Sweet Home... Minnesota?

After three weeks of knowing Frank, it’s getting a little ridiculous. I should not be attracted to this guy. For one thing, I’m trying to focus on being melancholic at the moment, but Frank keeps getting in the way of that. He’s always trying to make me happy, or laugh, and the worst part is that he’s actually fucking good at it. I’m always kind of enjoying myself when he’s there.

I hate that he makes the fog of emptiness go away, but at the same time it’s refreshing to feel alive again. I’ve been so used to being alone, emotionally and physically that Frank being there is so foreign. It’s not unwelcome. The thing a lot of people don’t get is that when you’re sad, you like being sad. It’s a bit of an oxymoron, but I’m content in being depressed.

Mikey forgave me about five days after the incident, which meant five days at Frank’s house, but I haven’t really known what to do with myself since. I like not having people looking over my shoulder all the time, but I also like living my own life, but I can’t seem to have either because either Mikey is there or Frank is there. I can live my own life with their supervision, or I can live my own life without their supervision and get it anyway.

Everyone seems to think I’ve got some sort of eating disorder which is sort of pissing me off, because I don’t. I get that the signs may be there, but I’ve just been sick so much lately, that I don’t like to eat. I’m not an idiot, I know that eating disorders are unhealthy and dangerous, and I understand that they’re a problem other people deal with, but I’m positive I don’t have one. They all think that I’m too close to the situation to know myself, but I’m a big boy, I can figure thing out for myself.

Nevertheless everyone is always watching to make sure if I’m eating, to a point where I just suck it up and do.

It’s only been a week since I’ve gone back to a regular dietary schedule and the strange thing is that I’m not as sick as I used to be. For some reason, I’m actually feeling a bit better with people like Frank and Mikey around me. Even Pete doesn’t annoy me as much as he used to. It’s not that I don’t like him, or people in generally, I just can’t stand their welcome opinion of small towns. It bothers me so much so that it effects the way I view their personality.

Frank though... I don’t understand him. He’s kind of an asshole a lot of the time, but I like it. It’s endearing. I’m an asshole most of the time, so it’s pretty impressive that he puts up with me. He’s always at Mikey’s house so I see him practically every day. It’s odd to say, but sometimes it feels like he comes over to see me. I know that’s not true, and he’s known my brother longer, but still.

I also find myself wishing he’s here to see me. It’s so weird. He’s my brothers friend, and he’s a guy, and I’m a guy, and he’s gay, but I’m not. Why the fuck does he make my heart jitter when I see him though?

After yet another one of my staple sleepless nights, thoughts of Frank keep invading my dreamless ramblings. I can’t get a moment of peace without thinking about Frank. Mostly it’s thinking about Frank with me. With me in a romantic sense, which is unbelievable.

“I’m not gay,” I whisper to myself under the covers. I’m not. I am not a gay guy. I don’t have anything against it, but it’s never called to me. I’m not into dudes. I like girls. What the hell is going on with me?

~*~*~*~

“You’ve been giving me funny looks all day. Spill it, Way. What’s up?

“Uh, nothing,” I reply to Frank. He’s starting to suspect something. I don’t know what he’s suspecting, because we both know I’m straight. Am I even fucking straight? Frank’s existence seems to contradict that.

“Yeah, nothing,” he mocks, “you don’t like me do you?”

“What?” I ask, considerably surprised. “That’s definitely not it. Definitely, trust me. I mean, you’re kind of a dickhead, but you seem like a niceish person. A little rude, but who isn’t?”

“Niceish? You Way’s are really good with compliments,” Frank says.

“Yeah we give compliment sandwiches. Insult, followed by a compliment, and then another insult. It helps compose the unfriendly façade that people cast upon us,” I say.

“No that’s not it. Mikey I like, it’s you I’m not too sure about,” he jokes.

“Where is Mikey anyway?” I ask. It’s weird that I’m in his house, but I haven’t even seen him all day.

“You probably don’t want to hear the answer seeing as he is your brother,” Frank says.

“He’s still in bed, isn’t he?” I ask, feeling a little grossed out.

“Yep,” Frank says. “They have a schedule for things like that. They don’t know they do, but you pick up on it after a while.”

“Yeah, please spare me the details. I know that much though. During the six months that he lived with me, I almost couldn’t believe how habitual he was. Mikey doesn’t even know how predictable he is.”

“Wait, Mikey lived in New York with you?” Frank asks completely incredulous.

“Yeah for a little while. Just for a few months.”

“Why? He loves it here, what about Pete?”

“Pete stayed here. Mikey was trying to... ugh,” I stop, and try to veer away from the subject. “Frank there are a lot of things I’ve done in my life that I’m not so proud of, and I don’t know what you’d think of me if you knew about some of them.”

“I already don’t like you much, so there’s nothing to really lose. I’m kidding of course, I get it, but how was Mikey involved?”

I shrug and tell him, “He was trying to help me.”

Frank doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and then sighs and looks at me seriously. Uh oh, not a good look to get. Frank’s a smart guy, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already figured it out.

“Can I ask you a question that you have every right not to answer?”

“Um, sure?” I say, but part of me knows what he’s about to say.

“Well, I can’t help but pick up on some things, okay? When Mikey told me his brother was coming into town a month ago, he said to tip toe around you. Then I come over here and he tells me that he’s not buying any beer for a while. Everyone’s always asking if you were drunk and shit. Did you, or do you... uh-“

“Yeah,” I say, getting his point. “It was a long time ago. I’m okay now, mostly, but Mikey is a little over precautious.”

He really is a smart guy. Maybe he’s just really observant, but he keeps on knowing things about me. He knows the kind of things that people wouldn’t tell him, but a person can decipher on their own, if they know where to look. Frank always seems to know where to look to understand me, and it’s odd. I didn’t know I was that readable, but Frank is a contradiction to everything I thought I knew.

“So you were, like, an alcoholic?” He clarifies.

“Mhm. People are always trying to dance around that word. I mean it’s not like it scares me, it is a word, and I was one. Still am I guess, it never really goes away.”

“Wow, okay. Sorry if I’m-“

“No it’s fine. I thought we’d established that I don’t like people trying to be sensitive, it’s just demeaning. I am what I am. Brevity is for the weak,” I say.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” Frank says with a tilt of the head and then he goes back to casually talking about music. He does that a lot. Changes the subject in the middle of a conversation. It’s cute. He’s cute. And I’m supposed to be straight.

I’ve known him for three weeks, I should not like him this much after that little a period. I also shouldn’t like him the way I do. I don’t want to sound like a teenage girl, but I like like him. This is so insane.

It’s not that I like any other guys, it’s just Frank. Why Frank? He’s been nothing but harshly brutal to me in nothing but his words. Typically you’re supposed to hate people who are so imposing, but Frank isn’t mean about it.

He also does his best to maintain boundaries. He leaves things alone that need to be left alone, like what that doctor said. I can tell whenever he’s hinting about it, but as soon as I make it clear that the topic is not up for discussion, he backs off. I can tell he’s worried about me though, because everyone is these days. I’ve become used to detecting that. It’s not so much a question of who is wary of me, it’s a question of how wary they are.

“I don’t understand you, Frank.”

“In what way?” He asks looking amused.

“I’m not sure yet,” I say.

“Well tell me when you are sure.”