Frank on a Leash

Mikey didn't realise just how pathetic and alone he really was until the weekend rolled by. He didn't step foot outside of his room except to eat and piss, and even that was rarely. He found he just didn't have an appetite when he was being forced to exist without Frank around him. It was a girly way to think, he knew, not to mention not very goth-like, but that's how he felt. Dependant. Frank made life okay for once. Mikey wished he lived in Newark so he could hang out with Frank more often than just at lunch and during math. But he knew Frank probably didn't want to see him every day. He had other friends who needed his attention.

Mikey got up from his bed and walked around his depressing room. He passed the vanity--he'd given up calling it a drawer-- and looked at himself. He didn't know why he constantly went through this exercise of self-hate. It only managed to make him feel so...like no one would ever want him. He didn't bother with makeup today, since his walls were basically the only thing that would be seeing him, and he looked like a mess. He attempted to smooth down his un-washed, unruly black hair, but soon gave up on that and directed his attention instead to the flower belt hanging limply on the wall by a piece of scotch tape. The flowers had died, the petals turning flaky and dark, but he couldn't bring himself to throw out something that Frank gave him. And somehow they added to the old-world gothic feel of his room. They had the 'everything beautiful eventually dies' feel about them, and Mikey was all about that. It was morbid and damn it if the only thing in the world that is beautiful is his only friend, but Mikey accepts that it will all...end one day, as much as it disturbed him to think that way.

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Frank was sitting in a booth at McDonald's beside *gasp* Bob and across from Ray. He was staring out the huge glass windows while Ray and Bob were having a heated debate on whether Metallica was better than Megadeth. (pft, Megadeth, totally) Frank was trying his hardest to attempt conversation when a question was thrown at him. He didn't want his friends to notice his deep depression about his separation from Mikey. He never thought he'd hate a weekend, but that's what was miraculously happening. Frank wasn't happy unless he was with Mikey, but that was only possible on the weekdays. So here he was, self-proclaimed punk that he is, missing school. Missing Mikey.

"What's wrong, Frankie?" Bob asked, noticing how quiet the boy had become since they first arrived at McDonald's. He hoped it didn't have anything to do with Mikey. The weekend was his time with Frankie, finally away from the goth kid who had captured Frank's attention, and continues to do that every time they see each other. Bob knew subconsciously that it was more than friendship, but he refused to let himself believe it. He needed to hold onto the hope that one day Frankie will like him back, and he can finally be happy.

Frank scooted closer and hugged Bob's arm. "Nothing." he answered. He nuzzled his face into Bob's beard, which he loved. The scruffiness of it was familiar to him, made him feel safe. Even if he hated it when people tried to protect him, he did like to feel safe when he was sad and vulnerable like this. And Bob's arms were his safe haven. They always have been, from the time they were in middle school and Frank would get picked on for being so small. That eventually passed, and everyone accepted him as a cute, short boy that girls adored, but the safe feeling he got from Bob never faded.

"Are you sure? It doesn't have anything to do with-"

"Bob, you said you wouldn't start!" Ray hissed. He wanted just one day where Bob didn't get all pissy, but things were heading that way quickly. He was starting to feel sorry for poor Frankie, since Bob had been blowing up at him for the smallest things. He hated the look Frank got when he was getting yelled at for...even mentioning Mikey, or just not talking as much as usual. Ray sympathized with Frank. He didn't enjoy the wrath of Bob either.

Frank sighed and scooted away from Bob, leaning instead against the wall since Bob had the outside seat in the booth. "Yes, I miss him. So what?" he snapped. He frowned and poked violently at the salad in front of him with his fork. "And I don't see why you don't like him. If you wold just spend a few minutes talking to him, you'd like him too. He's not all dark and depressing like you'd think. He's sweet."

"He's sweet." Bob mocked, rolling his eyes. Frank punched him in the arm, hard. He wasn't in the fucking mood for this right now.

"Shut up Bob." he growled. He wasn't all that menacing, really. He was still debating on whether he was feeling more rage, or more separation anxiety.

"Shut up, Bob."

"Oh my god, you are so fucking self centered! Just because you are mad at me for hanging out with Mikey, which I don't see how it's your business anyway, it doesn't give you the right to bitch about it. And...you know what else?" Frank's voice got softer.

"What, Frank?" Bob asked. He didn't want to hear anything else, because he had a sinking suspicion Frank was going to yell at him more. He hated Frank being mad at him, but couldn't stop himself. Once Bob was pissed, he couldn't shut his mouth. Frank gulped a little. He wasn't sure if he was ready to admit this piece of information outside of his head. It was big...for him at least. Foreign.

"I like him." Frank said softly, hoping Bob would get the meaning so he wouldn't have to elaborate. He was already nervous about having to admit that he likes boys, let alone the one boy that Bob hates, and who probably isn't gay in the first place.

Bob frowned, getting even more pissed off. How dare he like Mikey when Bob has liked Frank forever? What did the goth kid have that Bob didn't? Besides a shit load of make up and a morbid outlook on life, of course. Frank reached over tentatively to grab Bob's arm, to calm him down somehow, but Bob jerked away and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, is he your boyfriend, then?" He spat. Frank shook his head.

"No...he's not gay...." Frank said, sounding like it was the most horrid news in the world.