Oh Baby Let Me In

December 27nd, 1999
Saturday;afternoon

I yawned, scratching the side of my head and ruffling my hair up just that much more then it already was, almost loosing my balance as I made my way up the basement stairs. I stopped for a split second; my arms wavering at my sides, my eyes barely open, before I felt steady enough the make it up the last couple stairs.

The bright light from the other side of the door caused me to groan, and close my eyes completely, before slamming the door shut behind me.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

I groaned once more at my Mom's sarcastic greeting, blindly making my way through the kitchen to the table, hands stuck out in front of me to feel where I was going.

"Well, technically Gerard, it's two in the afternoon," she snorted from across the room, the sink running and the occasional 'clink' a piece of silverware filling the room.

I grunted in response. I wasn't a morning person -- or afternoon person.

I enjoy my sleep.

A lot of it.

"Mikey tried to wake you up this morning," she spoke, the faucet turning off directly after.

"Neat," I mumbled, turning my head to rest on its side rather than my forehead. I heard my Mom sigh before the sound of clinking silverware filled the room once more.

Now that I thought more about it, I do remember Mikey trying to wake me up this morning. It was like one of those things, that you thought you dreamt about, but never actually did.

And I suppose that if he wouldn't have practically ripped the door off the top of the steps, stomped down them much louder than necessary, and didn't click my light on and off a hundred times, I may have kindly responded to his "Lazy ass, where the hell are your keys?"

But instead, all I remember is me lying face down in my bed, and the second he finished asking his question, I felt him hovering over me, so I let my arm that had been hanging off the side of my bed connect with his stomach.

Taught him a lesson I suppose. He knows that I would never let him take my car, no matter how shitty it already is. That kid can't drive to save his life.

I realized that I hadn't even looked to see if my keys, that I had left sitting down on my desk, were even there when I woke up. I quickly sat up in my chair, head beginning to pound at the quick movement. "He didn't take my car, did he?"

Mom was hidden by a cupboard door as she put away dishes, but moved so I was able to see her shake her head. I sighed and leaned back in the chair, my head lulling backwards. "Good."

I heard her sigh also, though hers was out of annoyance, before she spoke again. "He told me you hit him and then made me feel extra sorry for him."

I laughed lightly, lifting my head back up to watch her dry more dishes. "So you caved and let him take your car?"

She rolled her eyes, disappearing behind another high cupboard door to quickly put away a plate and shutting it again. She took the drying towel sitting on the counter and tossed it across the room, where it landed in my lap. "Start drying, smartass."

I groaned, not only from her request, but because the towel was cold and wet against my bare legs.

It was then that I noticed that I was still in my boxers. I felt my face turn hot as I raised my eyes to meet my Mom, slowly pulling the towel from my lap to cover my half naked body. I watched her roll her eyes as the cold towel didn't really help cover much up, and it was cold and making me shiver. "It's not like I've never seen you naked before."

I shook my head, throwing the towel up onto the kitchen table before letting my head fall to it also.

"Mom, can we not talk about Gerard naked please? That's just gross."

A "Fuck you Michael" fell from my lips as I heard my little brother enter the room.

"Language, Gerard. Especially with guests in the house," Mom tutted, making sure to slap the back of my head as she spoke.

I lifted my head to look behind me, my neck cracking in the process, to see what 'guests' were in my house watching me whine and complain in my underwear.

In the doorway between the living room and kitchen, Frank stood awkwardly, his head hung low as he watched his sock covered feet shuffle around beneath him. He clutched a pretty large plastic bag in one hand while his other hand was tucked away the pocket of his hoodie.

Or rather, my hoodie.

A smile made its way onto my face as I realized that Frank had probably worn that hoodie more times than I have.

"Hey, Frankie."

I watched his face turn bright red as he raised his head just a bit, showing that he heard me speak. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth; the metal ring in his lip knocking against his teeth.

I'm pretty sure this kid is adorable.

The funny thing was that this kid was all I thought about the last few days. Ever since his little episode in our living room the other day, his face won't leave my head.

"Gerard, go put some clothes on," Mikey mumbled, taking a seat at the table kiddy-corner to me. I noticed that he too had a bag with him, though it was significantly smaller than the one Frank had.

I ignored Mikey's request, mostly to annoy him, but also because Mom had continued to bicker about me drying the dishes, complaining that by the time I got around to it, it would be dinnertime.

I rose from my seat, grabbing the towel as I did so. "What's with the bags?" I questioned, making my way to the dish drainer. Mom excused herself, saying she needed to go and grab a few things from her room.

"None of your business," Mikey smiled, motioning for Frank to sit down in my previously spot, before turning back to me. "Why are you so nosey?"

I shrugged, ducking down to stash away a frying pan in a lower cabinet. "Why are you hiding something?"

Mikey chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not."

I raised an eyebrow as I turned to face the two at the table. Behind them in the doorway was what caught my eye though; Mom was shuffling into the living room with bright red bags decorated with bright green ribbon.

It was then that I remembered what today was. Frank been away with his family during Christmas, and apparently been busy with them for the last few days, and he and Mikey had decided to get together and do their own Christmas type thing together. Mom had overheard Mikey talking about it, and decided to make a whole big deal out of it, and though we never decorated the house with lights or even a tree, she had made sure to put it all up yesterday just for this occasion. I, for one, thought it was a bit over the top for her to do all of that, but she didn't seem to care one bit. She had me in the kitchen all day yesterday baking cookies with her as she rambled on about how she had bought Frank and Mikey matching winter hats, and how she thought they were going to look so adorable in them. I nodded along, ignoring the obnoxious, repetitive Christmas music coming from the radio she had set up in the corner of the room, silently wishing Mikey was doing this instead.

Last night I worked on a drawing for Frank; that being half the reason why I didn’t wake up until early afternoon. Actually, it was more of a drawing of him. Kinda like the one I had drawn for Mikey.

"Is that my present Michael?" I grinned, balling up the towel and tossing it onto the counter.

He grinned shyly, shrugging his shoulders, and he lightly pushed the bag he had carried into the house under his chair.

I glared. "You forgot to get me a present until after Christmas, is that it?"

His eyes darted around the room, purposefully avoiding me, and he shrugged again.

I shook my head disapprovingly. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you Michael."

"You can start by not calling me 'Michael' anymore," he grinned up at me, trying to use his 'sad, I'm adorable' eyes that only work on our Mom. I shook my head.

"No thanks, Michael."

He flipped me the bird as he pushed himself up from the table, his name being called from the other room. He grabbed the bags he and Frank had brought into the kitchen, and disappeared into the living room.

Frank up until this point, had gone pretty unnoticed by me, which was actually a really big deal, due to how much I had been thinking about the kid for the last few days.

And there is a difference between thinking about someone, and thinking about someone.

And I've really been thinking about the boy sitting in front of me, his head hung low, and that faint clicking of his lip ring on his teeth echoing through the room. I can't be blamed though; I'm an openly gay guy and I think I'm allowed to think about any guy I want. Correct? Frank's adorable,I suppose even attractive, and I can't help but think about him that way.

And now that I was alone with him, those thoughts I've been having about him are just making me feel awkward.

I didn’t want him to have another attack like the other day; it did happen last time because Mikey left the room.

It wasn't just because of that though. Frank's eyes had begun to flicker around the room as I continued to stare at him, occasionally landing on me. I suddenly because very self conscious, seeing as I was only in my underwear, and I was somewhat infatuated with the kid. And ever since the name calling back in high school, I've never really been happy with my body, even though I knew I wasn't big now like I was back then.

I crossed my arms across my chest. Frank's eyes switched from staring at my feet to my crossed arms, and back again, and I didn't know what to do, so I slowly began to shuffle towards the basement door.

"I'm gonna go -- uhh, change now," I stuttered, inwardly cursing myself for behing so stupid. "I'll be back. --yeah."

I quickly opened the basement door and slipping through, praying that I didn't tumble down the stairs.