A Song in Your Head

“Frank are you still here?” Pete shouts from his room, but Frank doesn’t hear, because he’s in the middle of falling asleep while also accidentally listening to music so, he’s completely unaware of the fact that he’s actually listening to the Circle of Life.

“Frank?” Pete hollers again, louder this time. He opens the door to find Frank with his head lolling off his shoulder with one ear bud falling out and the other fallen down into his shirt. Pete rolls his eyes, and says sarcastically, “Wow, now that is attractive.”

He walks over to Frank, and grabs the iPod carefully from where it sits on the couch. He scrolls through the songs, looking for the loudest possible one he can find. He settles on the first song that he can find by Metallica and turns the volume as loud as it will go.

“Ow, fuck, what?” Frank says, jumping awake like he was just electrocuted. He rips the ear bud away from him and looks around to find Pete smirking strongly.

“Morning sunshine,” Pete says.

“Was that really necessary?” Frank asks.

“Yes, it was completely necessary,” Pete nods. “You doin’ anything?”

“What? No, why?”

“Then you’re coming with me,” Pete says, grabbing Frank’s forearm, and very unsuccessfully trying to pick him up.

“What?” Frank asks, cringing at the way Pete’s nails accidentally dig into his arm as he tries to flail out of his grasp. He looks over at the clock on the stove to see that it’s one in the afternoon, and he has effectively done nothing at all whatsoever with his day so far.

“Get up!” Pete groans when Frank does his best to anchor them both down, which makes Pete almost fall over the couch.

“I don’t wanna do anything, can I just stay here?”

“Nope,” Pete shakes his head.

“Why? Where are we going?” Frank asks, finally giving in when Pete starts poking him in the back of the neck. He stands up, straightens himself out a little bit, because his shirt is crooked on one side and his pants are falling down a little.

“We’re going out the door,” Pete says.

“Very helpful, thank you,” Frank replies.

“Ugh, fine,” Pete groans, “gotta stop by ‘Trick’s and I need moral support.”

“Right, you need moral support to approach the guy you never actually dated and has no idea you’re in love with him, and you can’t find someone else to do it?”

“Who lives here rent free?’

“Who makes me pay for all the food?” Frank asks.

“Who’s going to become a few inches shorter than he is now if he doesn’t march along behind me?” Pete replies.

“That makes no sense? How on earth are you going to make me shorter? Are you just going to cut my feet off or something, because that’s really unoriginal, and you can do better?”

“Shut up, shorty,” Pete says, walking over to the door.

“I... we’re the same fucking height,” Frank groans back.

“I’m, like, at least half an inch taller.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Frank says, shaking his head and groaning as he’s dragged out of the apartment. The hallway outside is vaguely creepy. Honestly it looks like the kind of hotel you’d expect to see in a horror movie. Their neighbor to the left is Jack Torrance and the guy on the right is Norman Bates. Why do so many horror movies take place in hotels anyway? Well, where there’s smoke there’s fire.

“What do you need anyway?” Frank asks, “Like why is it that you have to see him?”

“I left something over there?”

“And what would that be? Aside from your dignity?” Frank asks.

“Well excuse you, I’ll kick you out of the apartment. I swear I will.”

“No you won’t.”

“Why do you doubt me so?” Pete questions.

“Because you’re too good a person, and that’s your ultimate weakness. You’re too nice.”

“Fuck,” Pete groans. “Am I really? Damn, you’re probably right. See, this is why I hate you.”

“Yeah, tell that to the guy who you need to help you out.”

“Alright sorry. I love you ever so much Frank, you’re the light of my life and I would very much like it if you were to help me out here, because you’re my favorite person ever and my life would be nothing without you. There. Better?”

“The sarcasm levels coming off of you right now could literally put a toddler in a coma,” Frank says.

“Well then it’s a good thing that there are no kids around,” Pete says. He rushes down the steps ahead of Frank, who is still astounded that Pete manages to walk faster than him even though they are literally the same height. Their legs are the same length, how on earth is it possible for Pete to always walk quicker than him everywhere? He doesn’t even seem to try, and Frank doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by this, he just feels as though science has suspended reality whenever it comes to Pete.

Like he has an out of this world ability to slip on everything. Literally, the man could trip if his feet were glued to the ground. He’s fallen down so many flights of stairs while Frank’s known him that he stopped tallying it up after the seventh time. This is probably a good explanation for why he is the way he is though, because everything he says is nonsensical at best. He was probably dropped on his head as a child, down an elevator shaft, and across two lanes of traffic.

“You never said what it was that you left there.”

“I, uh,” Pete says sounding uncertain. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re what?”

“Well... like, I don’t remember?”

Frank shakes his head, “you didn’t leave anything over there at all did you? You just can’t get over the fact that you’re bad at flirting.”

“I’m not bad at flirting, Patrick is just extremely bad at understanding when someone is trying to flirt with him. He’s bad at picking that up. Bad reception or something. Like Verizon.”

“Mhm, sure,” Frank says, rolling his eyes. Pete opens the door out of the building, and he doesn’t hold it open like he usually does, and this is mainly because he wants to hit Frank in the face with a door. Frank stops it before his front tooth is broken, but he grumbles a suggestive couple of words in Pete’s direction. He doesn’t seem to hear, and if he does, he doesn’t care. Pete’s too busy in his thoughts thinking about the guy who Frank has decided he’s in love with.

It’s not that he is in love with Patrick or anything, he just likes every little thing about him, and every thought through his head is a constant chorus of “what would Patrick think about that?” It’s pretty ridiculous because he literally has known the guy for less than a month, but Pete tends to fall hard and very quickly, and then go through a period of complete and utter misery as he realizes what he’s gotten himself caught up in.

Pete has never rightly given himself a label. He’s ambiguous at best, and that’s okay, because that’s just who he is. He is a rebel first and foremost in his spare time, and the last thing he wants is to ever have someone pinning him down with a word that he’s going to have to bear like an anchor. He doesn’t need that. He just goes with the flow and tries not to drown in the way he drools over half the people he meets.

Concerning Patrick though, Pete has been crazy about him since he first stepped into the record shop beneath the guy’s apartment. Pete has a knack for falling in love with strangers though. He’s almost constantly experiencing love at first sight, but Patrick is one of the first person he’s ever pursued past that first initial glance or two. Frank thinks he’s crazy. Pete says he’s fanatic. Patrick is clueless as fuck.

The fact of the matter is that, for the last three weeks, Pete’s been cozying it up with the guy, and Frank has been dragged along the whole time because Pete always needs ‘moral support.’ Really, he’s like a kid going to the doctor’s office. He’s just completely terrified. What’s worse is that Pete tries to act cool so he can’t hang out with Patrick too much or he seems clingy, so he has to come up with these ridiculous excuses which Frank is always dragged into like a dog on a leash.

Honestly, Frank’s kind of jealous that Pete is capable of actually trying to find someone, because Frank is way shyer than he ever hoped to be. When he was really little, he was afraid of just about everyone except, for some reason, his elderly neighbor. Then he got a little older and there was a grace period when he was a preteen where he got over that anxiety the slightest bit, but by the time he’d started high school he was once again afraid of everyone that breathed a little too close to him. He has been ever since. The only people he doesn’t get bothered by are people he’s spent a really insane amount of time with. Such as Pete, or his mother, and that’s about it. Frank doesn’t even talk much with his coworkers.

“Would you stop fucking humming?” Pete shouts at him as he walks down the street. It’s more of a curse than a blessing that the record shop is close to their apartment because it means Frank is always being dragged to go see Patrick. It’s a recent thing, really, because they’d never seen Patrick there. It’s not like he works there, he just lives in the apartment above it.

Patrick must be as clueless as Pete is about romance though, because they keep ‘conveniently’ bumping into each other, or Pete will always find an excuse, such as this, to see him. It’s pretty obvious what he’s trying to do, but Patrick hasn’t picked up on anything, or if he has, he’s the best actor the world has ever seen. Then again, he really may be a fantastic actor, because he has just as many Oscars as Leonardo Dicaprio.

“I’m sorry. How can you even hear me?”

“Well you’re not exactly quiet are you?” Pete says, shaking his head, “what song is that anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Frank shrugs, “probably the last song I was listening to when you woke me up.”

“Circle of Life, huh?”

“What? No! I don’t have that on my phone,” Frank replies defensively.

“Dude, we both know you have the Lion King soundtrack. Don’t try to deny it. I also know you were singing songs from Hairspray last week in the shower. You can’t hide from me.”

“I... well, let’s hear you explain the Cranberries CD.”

“Christmas present from my aunt,” Pete shrugs, “but it’s lovely to know that your masculinity clings on the thread of your music library. So I shan’t even bring up the Bee Gees.”

“You’re such a bitch. I can’t believe you’re trying to get me to help you by trying to insult me,” Frank shakes his head.

“Yeah,” Pete says, obviously not listening to Frank as he looks off like he’s trying to think of something. “Okay, so what sounds like a better thing to say I forgot, my chap stick or my phone?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Frank shakes his head, “Obviously not your phone, it’s been three days since you last saw him, so you’d have realized that your phone was gone way sooner, and gone to retrieve it. Chap stick is fucking stupid, how did you graduate college you complete dumbass? Do you have sunglasses with you?”

“Uh,” Pete checks the pockets in his sweatshirt, since it’s too cold out to go without, “Yeah. So sunglasses then?”

“Yes, and when you go in there, say you left them somewhere in his place, and then miraculously find them when he turns his back,” Frank says.

Pete nods, and looks at him for a moment before looking back at the sidewalk in front of him. Due to the fact that it’s a weekday, not many people are on the street at this time, so it’s pretty much deserted aside from a few passing cars and the occasional pedestrian.

“I think it’s the Misfits.”

“What?”

“That song you keep humming,” Pete replies. “It’s the Misfits.”

“Oh,” Frank says, before nodding, because Pete’s probably right. Frank’s the kind of person who’s almost incapable of remembering song names. He’s not sure what it is. He’s got a perfectly good memory when it comes to obscure Pokémon, but put him on the spot to name a song and he’s clueless. Frank once forgot the name of the National Anthem. He called it ‘America’s Theme Song.’

He sees the record shop come into his plane of sight, and he’s eagerly awaiting the time when he will be able to ditch Pete so that he can do his flirting in private. Frank does not want to pay witness to that. He just wants to go home and play Mario Kart with weird strangers.

“Okay. God, I’m nervous.”

“Just ask him out. Tell him you enjoy looking at his face. Or tell him that you picture his face when you-”

“Okay, that’s enough. We need to get thicker walls,” Pete says.

“Yes, but unfortunately, we rent.”

“I rent,” Pete corrects, “you sleep on my couch.”

“I pay for your food.”

“We went over this like ten minutes ago.”

“You’re an asshole,” Frank says.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Aha, so you don’t deny it!”

“You’re as immature as you were in high school. You’re literally the same person as you were in high school. It’s been almost three years, evolve a little. Learn a new language, find a new hobby, and buy a different pair of shoes for god’s sake. You’re literally just an eighteen year old Frank with slightly larger bags under your eyes and now you know the difference between Vitamins A and D.”

“Dude, I don’t even think doctors know the difference.”

“You’ve had this job for seven months,” Pete says, as if it’s an insult.

“You’ve had that face for twenty five years and still have not mastered the art of not looking like you’ve got shit under your nose.”

“Bastard,” Pete groans.

“I never denied that,” Frank replies, and when Pete stops to stand in front of the building, Frank just looks at him and rolls his eyes. The record shop is to their left with the entrance to the apartments above it right in front of where they now stand. It’s an unassuming little building with a hair salon on the record shops right, and a small boutique on the other side. Frank thinks it’s nice, except for the alley around the corner which always smells like rotten fish for no good reason. “Well... you going to actually ring the bell?”

“I don’t know...” Pete says.

“We came all the way here,” Frank points out.

“We could go back.”

“Nope,” Frank says and he presses the buzzer for Pete, and then proceeds to run the fuck away.

“Why did you-” Pete starts but then notices Frank running and he shouts after him, “You fucking dick.”

“I love you too Pete, see you later!” Frank shouts back, anxious to get home so that he can make it in time to watch the beginning of Let’s Make a Deal. Who says adult life isn’t any fun? Probably someone very wise.