When Loving You Comes So Naturally, What Else Can Be Expected?

"So wait, what's his name again?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Frank...Frankie Iero."

"Right. Right." I sighed. "Remind me why he's shacking up with us?"

He drew in a sharp breath. "Gerard, I know that you may have no friends, but Frankie happens to be my best friend." I raised my eyes, shooting a glance to Mikey. He had a new best friend at least once a month. He pretended to miss my look. "And he's got some shit going on in his life that neither one of us can really understand. Look," He turned on the couch to face me. "I want you to be nice to him, alright? Not only because he's my friend, but because he's just...a really sweet guy. He doesn't cause problems."

I feigned shock. "And I do?"

It was Mikey's turn to shoot me a look.

"Alright, alright. Fine, Mikey. I'll make friends with your little buddy, or whatever. I don't see what's so special about him, though."

"He's just a good guy, Gerard. It's not so difficult to understand, is it?"

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the movie, deciding to enjoy the last night I had without random strangers living in our house.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Gerard, fix your hair. You look ridiculous like that. I don't know if that's a style, or if it's what's in or whatever--"

"Mom, would you chill out? Honestly, we're having some kid come live with us, not having a camera crew interview us for America's Best Family."

She rolled her eyes and pushed a hand through my hair, smoothing it this way and that before she decided it looked alright.

"There. Am I now suitable for the thirteen year old charity case?" I said just as Mikey walked in the room. He immediately rolled his eyes.

"He's fifteen years old, Gerard. Not too far off from you, you know. Only four years. And I swear, if you call him a charity case once I will rip your throat right out of your neck and shove it up your--"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My mother rolled her eyes at us, leaving the room to answer the door, my father looked like he was trying to restrain a smile. I laughed quietly.

After a minute or so, I heard my mothers shrill laughter from just outside the room. She emerged with a bright smile, guiding a small boy into the room with her.

"Oh, well don't worry, Frankie dear, I'm certain she was just trying to be friendly. She's quite the joker, Maybelle."

I supressed a smile. Frankie had obviously had a very warm welcome into the neighborhood by our clearly insane neighbor, Maybelle Roserra. She was nearing eighty years old, and only left the house once a week to buy some strange form of milk. She also would swear every man that walked by her house was her long-lost son Timothy. Seeing how small this kid was, she must have really hounded him.

I leaned over on the couch to Mikey. "Hey Mikes," I whispered. "you sure he's not thirteen? He sure as hell looks it."

Mikey glared at me. "Shut up." He hissed.

My mother, being the hostess she was at heart, remained with a smile on her face throughout this entire awkward meeting. "Well, Frankie, i'll show you to your room, which will be Mikey's, of course. But first I want you to meet my husband, Don, and my oldest son, Gerard. Gerard, honey, say hi to Frankie."

"How's it going there, Frankie?" I forced out, still wanting to laugh at the thought of him trying to politely tell Maybelle that he wasn't her son.

"Good." He said casually, as if meeting a group of strangers he was going to live with for months at a time was an everyday occurance for him.

It sounded like his voice fit his age a lot more than his looks. It was deep and masculine, like he was almost a full grown man.

I took a moment to really look at him. He was, at least, a head shorter than my mother, who was 5'6'' in heels. He had short black hair and a plain white shirt on with loose fitting blue jeans and black converse.

I watched him exchange greetings and pleasantries with my father, and smile at Mikey for a hello. My mother then looked straight at me, still smiling sweetly.

"Gerard, since you don't know Frankie too well, why don't you be the one to show him where Mikey's room is?" I huffed quietly and stood up, making my way to down the hall and ushering Frank to follow. I heard him shuffling behind me. "Oh," My mom said quickly. "and be sure to show him where the bathroom and everything else is, too dear." She added.

Quickly, I walked to the middle of the hallway, in the center of all the doors.

"Guest bathroom." I said, pointing to a door straight ahead.

"Mikey and I's bathroom." To a door to the left of us.

"My parents' room." The right of us.

"Mikey's room." Down a little further.

"My room." Directly adjacent to us.

I nodded at him and turned around, opening the door to my room.

"Wait!" He called. I turned around. "Where's the kitchen?"

I pointed a finger behind him. "Down the hall and to the right. Is that all?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'll...see you later."

"Yeah, see you later, man."

I shut my door. I didn't like this guy already. Something about him was weird. I wondered how Mikey and my parents always seemed so taken with him whenever they spoke of him, like he was some kind of Godly figure. I didn't see what was so special with him.

Guess I'd have to find out.