Oh Baby Let Me In

December 12th, 1999
Friday;night

So my Mom's done a lot of embarrassing stuff to me and Mikey, but what she did to that poor kid in the kitchen was beyond horrible.

I attempted to hold back a laugh, even though I was now completely alone in my room, but I felt bad I guess. I did laugh at the guy right to his face upstairs, and I wish I hadn't.

His face turned redder then a fucking tomato.

For real.

Composing myself, I took a good long look at my room. Nothings changed of course; nobody's ever down here except me. A lot of my drawings that I've done over the years clung to the four walls of the room, covering up most of the ugly wood paneling that had once been the only thing adorning this room.

I yawned suddenly, my hand covering my mouth while the other rested on my hip. It was a bit passed ten thirty, which wasn't that late, but I had an excuse. I was up early for class, give me a break.

I threw myself down onto my bed, groaning as soon as I hit the mattress. My sheets were upstairs in the wash at the moment because I didn't take them off before I left for school.

Ick.

They were horrible when I left, so having them sit there for three months wasn't going to magically make them smell--good.

I sighed, turning my head to look at the clock on my bedside table once again before deciding that I needed a cigarette before I crashed. Pushing myself up from my oh so comfortable king sized bed--yeah, i could actually fit on this one--and reached for my bag at my feet.

I ripped it open, suddenly feeling extremely antsy, and began pulling all of the junk that was inside, throwing my art supplies across the room. Most of the stuff landed at its destination, my desk, but some completely missed. I cursed when a small thing of bright orange paint busted open, slamming against the leg of the desk and spilling out onto the light brown carpet. I spun around in a circle where I was standing, searching for anything to clean it up with. I dropped to my knees when I couldn't see anything that I didn't want to get stained, and finally settled on using a sock I found underneath the bed.

Unfortunately, it didn't help one bit getting the paint off of the carpet. I think it actually made the stain worse.

I sighed once more, throwing the sock to the other side of the room, letting my butt rest on my feet. I rolled my eyes at the bright orange spot like it could understand that it hurt my feelings or something, and pushed myself back to my feet.

I grabbed my last pack of cigarettes out of the bottom of my suitcase and made my way up the basement stairs. I hit the pack against the palm of my hand as I walked up the stairs, trying my hardest not to trip up them as I did so. Don't even know if I could count how many times I'd tripped up these damn steps over the years.

The door at the top of the stairs squeaked, just like every other door in this house did, so I was sure to open it slowly so I wouldn't wake my Mom, whose room was just down the hall. I still heard the noise of the dryer in the laundry room further down the hall, so I decided that I'd be able to smoke before fixing up my bed. I slipped though the door before blindly making my way through the dark kitchen and into the living room.

I heard a quite giggle as I entered along with Mikey's high pitched laugh. I stepped into the living room, almost kicking the coffee table that had been moved, and took a look at Mikey and his friend Frank sprawled out on top of sleeping bags on the floor in front of the TV. Mikey sat up against the couch, still laughing like a total idiot, though he kept it quiet for Mom's sake, but still. Frank on the other hand was laying down, his pillow rested on Mikey's outstretched legs, his body curled up under him.

I looked up at the TV, noticing that there was currently a commercial playing on the screen, and suddenly wondered why they were both laughing.

"What are you watching?"

Mikey's laughter ceased, his head whipping in my direction, as did Frank's. His hand went to his chest; his heavy breathing was suddenly heard. "Jesus Christ Gerard! You scared the living shit outta me. Fuck--"

I snorted, smiling slightly at Mikey's overdramatic--ness. "You live in fucking Jersey Mikey. You need to get used to people sneaking up on you."

I could literally hear Mikey roll his eyes as I watched Frank sit up from his laying position. "Whatever, asshole. Were are trying to watch The Breakfast Club, but it's on TV so they have commercials, and they cut out all the good parts."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the pack of cigarettes in my hand, pulling the small clear tab off of the top and shoving it in my pocket, pulling out my lighter instead. "I have the movie downstairs if you want to watch the whole thing. It's somewhere down there."

Mikey's eyes almost lit up. He loved The Breakfast Club almost as much as I loved those vampire and gory flicks. He turned to Frank, asking him if he wanted him to go get the movie. I waited for Frank to say something, but I didn't hear a word nor see him shake his head or anything. He was now sitting just like Mikey, so his body was blocked from my view. By how Mikey shot up from his seat on the ground and almost ran me over, I concluded that Frank's answer had been a yes.

I stood there almost awkwardly, twirling my lighter in-between my fingers. Frank sat there cross legged playing with the zipper of the sleeping bag that now covered his lap. I listened to the zip zip zip of the small zipper while I watched Frank's head move back and forth ever so slightly as his eyes moved along with his hands.

I had no idea how to start up a conversation with this guy, and I figured by how much I've heard him talk in the last seven hours--which would be a total of never--that he wouldn't be talking it up anytime soon.

"So I'm gonna go outside now, or something. Yeah," I said, using both of my hands to gesture to the hall, which lead to the front door.

He jumped, just like he did when I talked the first time, eyes growing wide as he stopped playing with the zipper. I stood there a few seconds, waiting for him to possibly say something, and when he didn't even move, I just backed out of the room.

Way to make a fool of yourself.

I rushed down the hall, completely ignoring putting on shoes or a jacket, unlocked the door and stepped out.

Bad idea.

The snow that was on the front steps immediately soaked into my socks, freezing the bottom of my feet. The strong wind whipped my hair about, and I cursed, hopping around a bit before finding a spot on the top of the landing that didn't have snow.

So I stood there on my tip toes, one arm wrapped around my body while the other was shaking as I quickly puffed away on a cigarette.

I feel like a total idiot. Thank God nobody's out at this time of night.

I threw my cigarette down the steps and into a bank of snow, blowing out the last bit of smoke before rushing back into the house. The warm air heated my freezing skin, and I sighed happily, resting my back against the now closed and locked door.

I slipped off my wet socks, leaving them in a pile by the door before making my way back into the living room. The lamps were now on, the whole room now lit up. Mikey sat on his knees in front of the TV, fiddling around with the VHS tape. Frank was nowhere to be seen.

"You found it I take it?" I asked, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table, cupping my hands around my mouth, blowing hot air onto them in hopes of warming them up.

Mikey took a look back at me before smiling and nodding, grabbing the remote off of the console and returning to his spot in front of the couch.

I took a look behind me, hoping Frank wouldn't appear anytime soon. I had to ask Mikey a few things. I lowered my voice a bit before speaking. "Hey Mikes?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, clicking buttons on the remote, not taking his eyes away from it.

"Does your friend talk? He hasn't said anything the whole night," I questioned, itching the back of my head as I did so.

Mikey broke away from the beginning of his movie, pausing it as he did so, and turned to me. "What?"

I still kept quiet, but spoke a bit louder. "Does Frank ever talk? Or am I just imagining things?"

Mikey shook his head, reaching up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Not a lot, no."

"Why?" God I'm nosey.

Mikey shrugged, though when he spoke he didn't look at me. When Mikey Way doesn't look at you when he speaks, he's lying. "Dunno."

"Mikey, don't lie to me."

"Quit being so damn nosey then," he shot back.

I sighed. "Sorry. I'm just wondering."

It was his turn to sigh. "No, I'm sorry." He lifted his head up, looking past me, which prompted me to do the same. "He's in the bathroom. Well, he talks to me at least, but that's about it."

My face scrunched up in confusion. "Why? He your boyfriend?" I teased.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "No, you assface. He's my best friend. He talks to me because," he paused as he heard the toilet flush and the door being unlocked from down the hall. He rushed through the rest of his sentence. "Because he can't talk to anyone else."

My face stayed the way it was, my head spinning as I tried to filter Mikey's words. I heard feet shuffling behind me, and soon Frank appeared from the doorway. He made his way back to his spot next to Mikey. I saw Mikey smile at him before hitting play on the remote.

I found this the perfect time to slip from the room, the rattling of the dryer still filling the air, but at this point, I could care less if my sheets were still wet. This was just too much information for one night.