You Can Run Away With Me Anytime You Want

Frank's house was one of those houses that could only be described as cosy. It was extremely small, on the outskirts of town. It took us forever to get there, but we talked the whole way to his house, moving slowly closer to each other.
"OK, when we get inside, you have to promise that you'll hide your laughter at all my moms shitty collect-able stuff. And how small it is. She thinks it makes the place look homely" Frank rolled his eyes. He was putting the key in the latch, turning around and smiling at me. His eyes were burning intensely.
"That's so cute!" I chirped.
"Promise?" Frank insisted.
"Yes! Come on, its freezing" I hurried, rubbing my forearms to generate some heat. New Jersey nights were harsh, and the wind was cold and fast.
Frank opened the door, and the fragrance of Fe-breeze and lasagna washed over me. I stepped inside the house, and the walls were painted a deep cream, with flowers scattered everywhere in bowls. The walls were scattered with little pieces of art, strange pictures that could only be found in a thrift store. They were beautiful and looked like they belonged on the wall. Frank walked into the kitchen, from where I heard the refrigerator door open, the close straight after. I closed the door behind me and took the opportunity to look at the cabinet with baby pictures of Frank strewn on the top.

There was one of Frank when he was just born, a blob of ebony hair atop his alabaster skin.

The next picture was of Frank when he was five, I'm guessing, smiling widely at the camera, his eyes screwed shut, wearing just his swimming trunks. The next picture looked like it was taken just a few years ago- Frank in black jeans, a black shirt, his hair long and black, with eyeliner framing his eyes. One of Frank's eyes was shut in a wink, his hands forming the rock sign.
I smiled to myself, taking in the fact that nothing had really changed.
"Don't look at them!" Frank shouted, scooting towards me. I held up my hands, surrendering. Frank's eyes flickered something, then returned to their normal, burning self.
"You were so cute as a baby!" I laughed.
"Were? I'm still cute now! Look at me!" Frank joked, waving his hand in front of his tiny frame.
"I am"
Frank looked at me, a little confused, then a smile spread across his pink lips.
"Good. I like when you look at me" He gazed at me, deeper and deeper into my eyes and I felt almost...naked, like he was seeing everything.
"I'm always looking at you" I told him. Frank giggled, and he shuffled closer. His hand slipped into mine, and he pulled me to the living room.
"There's seriously not a moment when I'm not staring at you"
"Really?" I asked, not quite believing him. There was no way he looked at me all the time, and even if he did-why? Did he like me?
My brain was fastly becoming a maze, and with Frank's pulse beating on my skin, as well as his warm burning through my veins, it wasn't becoming clearer.
"Of course I do, you're fucking gorgeous. How could I not look at you?" Frank said, sitting down on the orange sofa. The walls a deep green, the floor covered in a cream carpet, and everything seemed like it had a story behind it.
"Thanks. By the way, I think you're pretty hot yourself" I shrugged, smiling.
"Mmm" Frank sighed, smiling to himself. His finger trailed down the middle of my body, and it felt like fire dragging across my skin. I moaned, and Frank laughed. "Thanks. Lets watch some TV"
He got up and headed for the kitchen.
What the fuck?