Something I Could Hold Onto

A nervous quiet hung thick in the air as the two men prayed with reversed polarities. The elder of the pair, until this point agonizingly unattainable and borderline-arrogant, now sat with discomfort stretched tight across his delicate face, his anxious ears awaiting an answer.

Frank, however, usually characterized by the beautiful self-doubt cataracts obscuring his perspective, maintained his silence purely out of disbelief – not refusal.

Another minute of apprehension crept by, urging Gerard to flame the spark of conversation.

"It doesn't have to be a date," he spat all-too quickly. "You don't even have to go if you don't want to. I jus that that maybe it might be fun, o-or whatever, but if you don't want-"

"No, no!" said the darker boy, instinctively crashing his hand across the other's knee. "I do!" A small smile etched itself over Frank's plump lips, contentment painting a thin watercolor wash over his face. Before the gesture could be recognized, however, his cheeks flushed scarlet as he realized where his rebellious extremity had placed itself. "Want to go with you, that is," came the definitive murmur.

Before embarrassment could fully devote Frank's gaze to the dirty car floor, warm fingers appeared beneath his chin.

"Really?" Gerard asked rhetorically, his grin expanding with the younger boy's responsive nod.

And in that simple moment, with dirty cars and dirtier people whizzing by, all awkwardness was exorcised from the cramped Honda. In a puff of smoke, the temporary discomfort was pushed out of the vehicle through the exhaust pipe, mingling with the huffs and spent words of the rest of New York. Timid fingers became entangled with each other while expectant lips paralleled hopeful thoughts.

A sigh of joint relief and excitement was extracted from the driver's side, a childish giggle meeting it halfway to the dashboard. The confidence that had previously escaped Gerard's eyes returned in full force; several slow seconds later, both men stared intently at one another, mirroring thoughts that would make most Catholics blush.

Before any qualms could be considered, Frankie found himself leaning forward hastily, locking his fingers around clumps of black hair and pulling himself closer to the elegant beauty before him. His lips furiously worked against those of Gerard, opening and closing and pressing and smacking at a pace not even the heaviest drum beat could match. Not one to be outdone, Gerard met his ravenous speed with an equal sensation of want and lust. His tongue darted from between his teeth, crashing against the younger boy's in an attempt to preserve the taste and preserve the memory.

Fog began to form on the windows, and Gerard pulled away laughing.

"Just to make sure all the syrup was gone."