Oh Baby Let Me In

January 4th, 2000
Sunday;night

I was thankful the driveway was still empty when I pulled my own car into the space, turning the engine off. The headlights dimmed and I stumbled out of the drivers door, food in hand, and now blind due to the lack of lighting that lead up to the front door of the house.

Cursing as my knee slammed into the doorjamb, I clicked on the hallway light before pushing the door shut behind me.

“Mikey?”

I didn't hear a response as I moved down the hall and into the dark kitchen; the only light guiding me was through the crack in the door that lead down to my room.

I moved towards my bedroom door, carefully setting the bag of food I went out to get on the table in the kitchen, eyes trained on the beam of light coming from the basement. I quietly slipped my jacket off my shoulders, tucking it under my arm as I heard Mikey ask how Frank was feeling. I froze when I was a few steps from the door, eyes wide and ears straining to hear just what Frank's voice would sound like.

I had thought about it so many times before. I wondered if his voice would sound like his laugh; higher pitched and giggly, or if it would be deep and completely not what I had first thought.

But as my luck would have it, when I moved forward to get closer to the door; because maybe I just couldn't hear him from the top of the stairs; maybe his voice was quiet rather then deep and giggly, my foot slammed into the door causing that to slam shut also.

My jacket dropped from under my arm as I cussed out loud, leaning down to inspect my throbbing foot. The doorknob found my forehead, and a “What the fuck- ouch” fell from my lips as I hobbled around, all while cradling my head and foot.

“Gerard? That you?”

I tested my weight on my injured foot, and reached for the doorknob with my free hand. “Yeah, just a slight run-in, that's all.”

I glared down the stairs when I heard Mikey snort from somewhere in the basement before snatching the abandoned bag of food and jacket and heading down with them.

“I just got you guys tacos,” I mumbled as I reached the bottom of the stairs with only a slight limp; Mikey meeting me to dig straight into the bag. "Nachos too."

"Awesome," Mikey smiled, before turning to head back over to my bed. "Thanks Gee."

I tossed my jacket onto my desk all while watching the two sprawled out on my bed. Mikey sat with his back against my headboard, legs stretched out with nacho cheese dripping down his chin. He was laughing at something with his mouth wide open, and I scrunched my nose up at the chewed food he was showing off.

"Ick, Mikey. Close your mouth."

He just opened it further.

I rolled my eyes as I made my way over and sat at the end, careful not to sit on Frank's feet.

Frank was laying on the left side, just like he was when I left earlier. The thick blanket that spread across my bed was pulled up to his middle, so only the thin sheet was covering his body up to his neck. He had the edge balled up in his fist, pulled up to his face as he let out a small laugh, but halfway through the small sound, another one followed, though it sounded more painful then happy.

I frowned as I watched his eyes close briefly, before opening again as I reached out and patted his leg. He shot me a small smile before letting out a shaky breath, and nodded when Mikey asked if he wanted more ice for his side.

Mikey crumpled up his taco wrapper and set that and the bag of food on the ground next to the bed. He helped Frank pull the sheet down before taking the melted plastic bag of ice and wash cloth and heading upstairs.

I waited until I heard him reach the top of the stairs before moving up my bed and rested my head on the pillows next to Frank. His eyes were closed once again; the sheet he had in his hand had been pulled down, and he now had nothing to hold onto.

I shifted slightly; just enough to move the bed a bit, and to get Frank to look at me. I smiled when his eyes slid open, and he returned it slightly as he let out a shaky breath. His hand continued to grip at air, and I sighed when he let his eyes shut again.

"Frankie," I murmured, reaching out and taking his fidgeting hand in my own; my fingers finding their way in between his own. His fingers were ice cold around mine, and I squeezed his hand when he smiled at me; a real smile. "You alright?"

He nodded quickly, eyes dropping to our hands resting against the red and black checkered sheets underneath us. I couldn't help but full out grin when I watched his face turn bright red when I ran my thumb along his own. "You sure?"

He smiled again, but when he lifted his eyes again he let his mouth fall slightly. My forehead creased as I looked down at his with questioning eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he always does when he really wants to say something, and just can't.

"What's wrong? Is it your side?" I asked, as I propped myself up on my elbow, while my other hand stayed connected to Frank's. "It's the bruising probably, which was all my fault. Completely my fault Frankie, I tried to stop myself but my foot might have hit you way harder then it should have and--"

Frank slowly slid his fingers out of mine, cutting off my rambling, and moved them up to my face. He let the tips on his fingers trace my cheek, his breathing becoming a bit frantic as his eyes staying fixed on me. I knew it was hard for him to be close to anyone he wasn't comfortable talking to, and I've already seen him get so worked up that he's had a panic attack. I defiantly didn't want that to happen again.

I reached up and took his hand back in my own, cradling it against my chest. "Frank, I--" I paused before thinking of how I wanted to say it. Frank's eyes nervously flicked between my face and our hands. I lifted my free hand from resting on the bed to his face, resting it against his cheek and pulling his attention away from our hands. "I don't want you to get out of your comfort zone too much, okay?"

His eyes moved down to our hands again and he detached his to move it back up to my own face, mimicking my hand resting against his cheek. I couldn't hold back the grin that spread across my face as he let his thumb sweep across my cheekbone, occasionally brushing my eyelashes.

Frank's mouth raised in a smile of his own, before he moved his hand up to my forehead to brush away the hair that hung down to my eyes, smile faltering and hand quickly retracting when I winced at the pressure.

I laughed, lifting my hand to push the rest of the hair Frank didn't push away. "Is there a bruise?"

Frank shook his head as he cautiously lifted his hand once more to run his fingers carefully across my injury. He stopped when I shifted slightly, and I was afraid that I might have made him more uncomfortable by resting my hand on his hip just below the bruise on his side, but when his fingers started moving again, he smiled.

And I fucking grinned.

"It’s just a little accident I had with the door earlier," I rolled my eyes, and he let out a small laugh; his breath still smelling of mouthwash falling across my face. He nodded, as his hand slipped back down to rest on my cheek before he stopped, tugging his lip ring into his mouth and clicking it against his teeth.

I went to open my mouth to ask him, for the thousandth time today, if he was okay, but he cut me off by moving his hand down further to rest it against the side of my neck. He released his lip before running his tongue across it, before letting out a shaky breath and moving to lean forward.

His lips gently pressed against my forehead, lingering for a few seconds, before pulling back.

I forgot to breathe for a total of twelve seconds before realizing I really needed air to live, and after silently heaving as to not startle Frank, I moved the hand that lay on his hip to rest on his hand that was pressed against my neck.

He moved his eyes up from staring at my shirt, to see the grin that I’ve had on my face since he gave me that kiss. My thumb moved along the grooves of Frank's knuckles as I shifted forward, just enough that it was barely noticeable, though my chest was now pressed up against his.

I was still propped up on my elbow, so I had to lean down to press my lips to his hair, whispering a "Thank you" before I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, followed by voices that sounded a lot like Mikey and our Mom.

"It's nothing Mom! Gee just spilt paint!" Mikey yelled as he descended down a few stairs; the upper half of his body still leaned in toward the kitchen.

"Oh no! He will not use my brand new wash cloths!"

I heard her high heels clicking across the floor in the kitchen, and soon heard her push open the door at the top of the stairs. From where she stood, she was able to see down into my room and onto my bed; just where Frank was lying.

Before she was able to see him sprawled out under my covers, I tugged his hand that was now frozen on my neck to lie around my middle, and I mumbled a "Sorry" before pulling the abandoned blankets up and over his head. I heard him let out a squeak as I pushed myself completely against him, making it look like I was the only one laying there.

I saw her descend a few stairs, glaring over Mikey's shoulder and pointing an accusing finger. "If you stain my new towels, I will not be happy."

I shot her a grin as I leaned toward the edge of the bed; closer to Frank's now trembling body. His hand was still gripping the back of my shirt, and I could feel his nails in my back from how hard he was holding on.

I moved my arm to rest across his middle, and when he let out a groan and clutched my back even tighter, I noticed the pressure I was putting on his side.

I was thankful that Mikey had finally ushered our mother back up the stairs, but first making sure to toss the ice down the stairs that was securely wrapped up in a plastic baggy and cloth for Frank. I snatched it up quickly, before reaching over to push the blankets off of his head.

Frank’s face was pressed against the front of my shirt, hidden from view. His quick breaths were flowing right through the fabric, heating my skin. His stomach was flush against my own, and his arm was wrapped around my middle so hard, that I was beginning to hurt a bit. He was shaking, and not from being cold; he was practically radiating heat.

“Oh, Frankie,” I murmured, before propping myself up on my elbow once again. My other arm reached out over his body to curl my fingers around the back of his neck, and pulled my head forward to let it rest against the side of his own so that I could whisper in his ear.

“I'm sorry I hurt you again.”

++

“She said it was fine. I called when you were gone.”

I smirked from my place against Mikey's bedroom doorway, arms crossed against my chest. "Did Frank's Mom actually believe you? I know how bad of a liar you are."

Mikey looked amused over his textbook, but did nothing but laugh and nod. "I didn't lie. I told the truth. All I said was that Frank was staying over, and that's all she needed to know." Mikey looked smug as he tilted his head to the side. "Nice pants by the way."

I dropped my gaze to the piece of clothing in my hand that I had grabbed from my drawer before heading upstairs, and rolled my eyes. "Your sarcasm isn't necessary."

Mikey chuckled before hiding himself behind his book once more. "You should know by now how much I hate that stupid show."

I shook my head at him, disappointed. "I still don't get you, man. And I don't think I ever will. It's a crime not to love Spongebob."

Mikey shook his head, but smiled at me nonetheless.

"You love me," I grinned, letting myself actually enter his room and perching myself down on the edge of his bed. I dropped my Spongebob pajama pants as I did so, before scooting up his small bed and let my head drop on the edge of his pillow that he wasn't propped up against.

I squinted down at his book--geometry, I think--before reaching across him to click on his bedside lamp. The only light that was coming into his room was the lamp post across the street and through his window, and I really didn't understand how he could even make out what the text said. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the new light before realizing that it was his Italian workbook.

"How the hell do you even do work without that on?" I mumbled as I scooted closer to him. I was nearly slipping off the side of his twin sized bed; thankfully, I have a bigger one downstairs.

"I have perfect vision, that's how," Mikey stated. I glanced up at him quick, watching him push his glasses further up on his nose while bringing his book just that much closer to his face. He squinted quickly before nodding to himself, and scribbling down his answer in the blank. I pinched his leg and he yelped, elbowing my chest and almost making me tumble off the side of the bed.

"Yeah, perfect vision my ass."

Mikey rolled his eyes before turning his complete attention back to his work. I glanced down at the page his was scribbling on before frowning as he flipped it shut, page half complete, and tossing it to the end of his bed.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I watched him get up from the bed to shove his abandoned workbook in his backpack.

He raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"How are you passing that class if you don't even finish the work?"

Mikey grinned as he dropped his backpack next to his dresser before pulling out a pair of his own pajama pants, unfortunately missing out on my favorite yellow guy, and tossing them on the bed next to me. "Frank knows a bit of Italian, so I ask him when I get stuck."

I gawked at my little brother, barely even comprehending what he had just said to me. I haven't even heard Frank speak english, and Mikey's already heard him speak in a whole different language? It was hardly fair that my little brother got to hear him speak at all.

I blinked a few times, before realizing Mikey was looking at me, obviously confused.

"Or lazy," I finally point out, and he goes to open his mouth to protest, but quickly closes it and shrugs.

"Like you weren't lazy in both high school and college," Mikey laughed, as he tugged out a shirt from the depths of the same dresser drawer and letting it join his pants on the bed.

"Whatever," I scoffed, as I sat up against the pillows and stretched out my legs; laughing to myself when they hung over the end of the bed. "I'm doing very well in college right now, thank you very much."

"You go back after winter break, right?" Mikey asked, as he slipped his glasses off and set them on his bedside table, before rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes.

"Not back on campus, no. My art director found out about this place here in the city where I can do my work, and still get credits," I replied with a shrug.

Mikey nods along, ruffling his hair as he yawns. "Work meaning what?"

I shrug again as I yawn as well; his yawn was apparently contagious. "I've talked to the guy who runs the place a few times before the semester ended. He said they do a lot of comics, plus a whole bunch of life-like portraits for magazines and stuff. My art director sent in some of my drawings, and the guy who runs everything told him that he's going to have me doing a little bit of everything. I was told that I have to be 'willing and able to do anything'."

“Sounds more like fun than work, Gee,” Mikey mused. “Especially for you.”

I grinned up at him, as my head tilted to the side. "I get paid too! How exciting is that?"

Mikey's mouth falls open and he huffs, as his arms flailed out in front of him in an attempt to portray how upset he was about the situation.

I snorted, and his arms stilled and fell to his sides.

“Oh, that's really attractive.”

“I love you too, baby brother.”

++

Frank giggled. Giggled at me when I finally found my way back down to my room.

"What?" I frowned, as I reached up to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, because those powdered donuts I found sitting on the counter looked way too good to pass up. When my hand showed no evidence of anything on my face, I raised my eyebrows in question.

Frank was now laying on his back, the arm on his good side was tucked under his head, while his right arm lay across his stomach. His fingers were wrapped around the black sharpie I had sitting on my bedside table alongside my sketchbook, which still lay closed on top of the table. The sheets were pulled up to his hips and his shirt was riding up, and I soon found myself shamelessly staring at the strip of skin that was showing.

That was until I noticed the beginning of the dark purple patch that now adorned his side.

I picked up the abandoned bag of ice and wash cloth that Mikey had tossed downstairs earlier, before standing alongside Frank on the bed. I had an old coffee cup sitting next to my alarm clock on my bedside table, and I used that to empty the melted ice into it before sealing up the zip lock bag once again.

“What was so funny?”

Frank smiled up at me shyly, before reaching out and tugging at my pants.

I chuckled, and couldn't help but smile myself. "Mikey made fun of them when I went upstairs. Can you believe that?"

Frank rolled his eyes at my comment, before a stuttered breath fell from his mouth when I pressed what ice was left in the baggy to his side. I apologized, as I tucked the wash cloth under the bag to catch any drips that would soak my sheets.

Frank shivered, and I couldn't blame him; my fingers were cold just holding the bag.

I tugged the sheet over the rest of Frank's body, before pulling the thicker blanket up also; but making sure not to shift the ice pack from his side. He used his free hand to tuck the blanket under both of his arms before resting them on his covered stomach, and twirling the sharpie between his fingers.

"You want to draw something?" I nodded toward the sketchbook that was still laying on the bedside table.

Frank opened his mouth and looked up at me quickly, before his face turned a nice shade of pink and he shrugged and he shook his head back and forth.

I let out a small laugh; sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Frank's stretched out legs. "It's totally okay if you don't want to," I said, and glanced over at the alarm clock sitting next to the sketchbook. "'Cause damn. It's kind of late anyways, and you have to go to school tomorrow."

Frank stifled a laugh behind his hand, before it quickly turned into a yawn.

I grinned. "I may sound like your mother or something, telling you to go to bed already, but see. Even your body's telling you to sleep. So there."

Frank rolled his eyes playfully at me, before sticking his tongue out in my direction before trying to hide another yawn behind the blanket he now had pulled over his face.

"Nice try," I patted his outstretched leg and pushed myself off the bed to head across the room to my closet. I swung the door open, using the dim light from my room to find the extra blanket I kept on the top shelf. I tucked it under my arm before shutting the door behind me to make my way back over to the alarm clock next to my bed.

"I'll just set the alarm for, what? Seven?" I shrugged down at Frank, fingers clicking the buttons on the top of the clock. "Will that give you enough time to get ready in the morning?"

Frank looked up at me and then the blanket that was tucked under my arm with confusion written across his face, before nodding slowly.

I nodded, and set the time and flicked the new alarm time on. I turned to face him and reached over his body to grab a pillow from the other side of my bed. "I'll just be up on the couch. You'll probably be the first up, since Mikey and I can never seem to wake up," I laughed, before reaching down to Frank's side to feel through the covers to feel that his ice pack was still pressed up against his side.

Frank's eyes were a bit wide when my own met his; his head shaking rapidly back and forth.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, as my eyes scanned over him. Was he uncomfortable? Was his side still really bothering him?

His head continued to move back and forth, and I could see his chest beginning to rise and fall faster than it had been before.

My own eyes went wide at the sight in front of me; it all sort of felt like déjà vu to the beginning stages of the panic attack that Frank had in my living room just a few days ago.

"Frank," my voice sounded more panicked then I wanted it too, and I hoped it didn't scare Frank as much as it scared me. I reached down to grab his free hand while the other still gripped the sharpie tightly; his knuckles turning white with the pressure. His hand was clammy and shaking inside of mine.

His eyes began darting all around my face, never staying in one place for more than a couple of seconds.

"I need you to tell me what's wrong," I knelt down next to the bed, face pleading as the hand that wasn't holding Frank's brushed away the hair that began to fall into his eyes. I didn't want to scare him by telling him that if he didn't calm down that he was going to fall back into another panic attack; but I refrained. Mikey told me the day after the incident in our living room that Frank's never had an attack before that day. It had to be scary as hell for Frank to go through the first time; I didn't want to have him live through another one again so soon.

The hair I once pushed away from his forehead slipped back down to soak up the sweat that had appeared almost out of nowhere. Frank's cheeks were now bright pink and I let my hand slip down to cradle his cheek. In just the last few minutes, he went from shivering cold to burning up.

"Frankie," I whispered, before removing my hand from his and tugging the blankets down his body, and moving the icepack from his side to rest it against his forehead in an attempt to cool him off a bit.

At the sound of his nickname, he let his eyes lock with mine. I looked down at him pleadingly, and now I really didn't care how desperate I sounded. "I need you to tell me what's wrong. Did I do something? I'll fix it, I swear Frankie," I paused, removing the icepack from his forehead, now holding both sides of Frank's face to pull him forward just enough to press my lips against his damp forehead. "Please…"

Frank whimpered from beneath me, which caused me to pull back, just in time to notice and brush away the single tear that found its way down his face.

Frank’s shaking hand reached up and took hold of my own, pulling it away from his face. He held it out in front of him, and I couldn't help but entwine my fingers with his as they shook. I watched his other hand; fingers still wrapped tightly around the black sharpie. He raised it in between us, thumb pushing and slipping off the cap, causing him to whimper once again.

Before I could reach out and help him pull the cap off, because apparently watching him struggle was a better idea, he stuck the marker cap in his mouth and pulled it off with his teeth.

Frank turned our entwined hands so my inner arm was facing him, and he raised the marker to my skin with trembling fingers; the cap falling from his mouth and tumbling to the floor next to me.

His hand blocked what he was writing; the marker digging into my skin a bit harder then I would like, but I kept my mouth shut, and after seconds of struggling to keep his hand still enough to spell out what was going on inside of his pretty little head, he let his hand fall to the bed.

stay

I stared at the bold black letters now adorning my arm, and it was only when Frank's hand reappeared into my view, blocking the single word from view, that I finally blinked and looked back down at him.

His lips were parted and his chin was quivering, and at that second I would have given anything to make it stop.

The sharpie was digging into my arm again, and when the marker fall from Frank's grip onto the bed, his hand quickly followed, and the three words he scribbled underneath the first; these a bit smaller, and much more rushed, I couldn't help but melt just a little bit inside.

i need you

"God," I rushed, standing up from my kneeling position to push myself against Frank, my face pressing into his neck. It was drenched in sweat, but I didn't care. "I'll stay. Of course I'll stay. Jesus, Frankie--"

Frank whimpered as his arms moved to wrap around my neck and pull me closer toward him. I attempted to remove myself from Frank, just to run across the room to click the lights off, but his arms just tightened around my neck.

Half bent over; knees resting on the side of the bed almost awkwardly, I moved my mouth to his ear as my hands found their place on his hips. "I'm not leaving, Frankie. I promise. I'm just going to turn the lights off, okay?"

His arms tightened even more, as his lips pressed lightly against my neck.

I kissed the side of his head; once, twice, before speaking again. "It will take just a second, and I'll be right back. I promise, Frankie."

He whimpered again, though his arms loosened significantly. I pulled away slowly, just enough to be face to face with him. I pressed a kiss to his cheek before moving back more, as his arms gradually began slipping from my neck.

I pushed myself away from the bed as Frank's hand reached and gripped the front of my shirt; much less shaky than it was earlier, before I could fully stand. I looked down, and went to pull his hand from my shirt when I noticed the black smudge now marking my shirt. Frank's other hand held the sharpie that had been pressed between us, uncapped, and he looked frightened; eyes flicking between the stain and the marker in his hand.

I took the sharpie from his hand, gently, before throwing it in the general direction of my desk. "It's alright, Frankie," I smiled, and his hand loosened up on my shirt. "I don't really even like this shirt to begin with."

His lips twitched into an itty bitty smile, before he retracted his hand, and let me stand all the way up so I could run across the room to the light switch. I clicked it off quickly, before blindly making my way back to the bed; accidentally digging my knee into Frank's leg when I went to crawl to the other side of the bed.

For being a king sized bed, we really weren't using up that much of it.

Frank quickly latched himself onto me the best that he could in the dark; his elbow knocking into my nose and his knee coming very close to a bad place, before we finally got comfortable. I pulled only the sheet up around us and held him closely; as Frank slowly became less panicked and more at ease as the time passed.

We ended up lying just like we had been earlier, facing each other on our sides, though Frank's arm was now around my waist, and his legs were tangled with mine. His face was pressed to my chest, and his nose bumped my chin when he moved his head up as I said his name.

"Are you alright now?"

I felt him shift so that he could rest his head on the same pillow my own head was lying on, and with the small amount of light from outside shining in through the small window above my bed, I was able to see a sliver of his face which nodded yes.

"Do you want the ice back on your side?"

I secretly hoped that he didn't, because I had no idea where I had thrown it in the commotion earlier, and plus I would have to move from Frank to search for it.

He seemed to realize the same thing, and shook his head no.

I knew that it was late, and that we needed to get up early in the morning, but I didn't want this to end anytime soon. I didn't want to fall asleep and wake up the next day, and watch Frank go off with Mikey. To go talk to Mikey. I wanted him to stay here, and want to be with me. Maybe this whole cuddling scene that was happening at this moment was just a reaction Frank had when he was scared about being left alone. Maybe he would have done this with anyone who was around and tried to leave him alone in a place he wasn't familiar with. Maybe I wasn't as special as I felt at this moment, after all.

I felt Frank shift again, and the hand that he had around my middle retracted from behind my back to move up to my face, tentatively moving to cup my cheek. I first felt the press of his forehead against mine, before I felt the press of his lips at the corner of my mouth.

It took all of my willpower to not turn my head the extra inch to fully press our lips together, but he moved back before I would have even been able to do so.

He let his arm move back down to its former place, pressing our chests together, and let his breathing even out.

Maybe, just maybe, I was special to Frank after all.