What Happened in Vegas?!

Okay, so maybe I was wrong when I said that seven months would go by in no time. It was only three days ago that I'd said that, but already it felt like years ago. Me and Frank were slowly beginning to destroy each other from the inside out. I hated his messiness, and he hated my tidiness. See how we clashed?

“Fuck off!” He whined as I tried to pull the covers from his body.

“No Frank, you really need to get up,”

“No, I don’t!” He grumbled into the pillow, before reaching his hand out to the coffee table and throwing the first thing he could grab at me. It just so happened to be a mug.

“Oh. Nice on Frank,” I said as it hit the floor by my feet and smashed. I saw the covers move slightly as he shrugged, and rolled my eyes.

“Frank. Get out of bed,”

“Sorry. This isn’t a bed, we can't afford one,”

“You’re being childish!” I whimpered, pulling at my hair. “The councilor could be here any time soon,”

“So what! She knows we don’t want to be together,”

“That’s not the point,”

“Yes it is,” I sighed, knowing that really, he was right, but I was currently trying anything I could to get him up. Not like that. Perverts.

“Plus. It’s 9am. Surely she has more of a life than that,”

This was another of our contrasts. I get up really early, yes, even on weekends, whereas Frank can sleep until about 3pm if he wanted to. It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m sure it will at some point.

There was a knock at the door, and I saw Frank lift his head from the pillow and glance at the door, one of his eyes still closed and his hair flicking up in all directions. I opened the door and came face to face with a smart looking woman with blond hair tied into a bun.

“Hello, I’m Carrie Wells, and I’m your marriage councilor, you must be Mr Way?” She smiled.

“Uh, yeah I am, come in. Sorry about the mess,” I flustered slightly. I, myself, felt ill enough having to endure this pigsty but having a guess invited into it, was borderline humiliating.

“No worries,” she smiled once more, stepping into the small apartment, and glancing at the lump on the sofa, hidden mostly by bed covers.

“Is this..”

“This is Frank,” I sighed, glancing at Franks once again sleeping form. It didn’t take him long. “I tried to get him up but he’s a bit of an asshole,”

“Most couples normally have trouble in the beginning, I’m sure you’ll work it through,”

“I’m sure we won’t,” I sighed, not sure what to do about the lifeless lump on the sofa. In the end I went with picking up one of Franks misplaced shoes and throwing it at him.

“Fuck off Gerard!”

“Frank, we have a guest,”

Frank looked up, and nodded slightly in the general direction of Carrie before putting his head back into the pillow.

“What the hell is wrong with you! You’re so rude,” I stated, grabbing Franks arm and pulling him off of the sofa, ending in him landing with a thud on the floor.

“I’m rude?!” Frank questioned, his voice muffled by the duvet that was tangled around him. “I don’t pull people on to the floor,”

“Uhm, mind if I interrupt?” Carrie asked asked, reminding us that she was actually still in the room. “I’m only here for an hour, so you can go back to sleep then Frank, okay?”

He grumbled slightly, and sat on the sofa, as Carrie sat next to him and I sat on the floor by Franks feet, where he swung them out at me, trying to kick me. It backfired however when I grabbed his foot, and bent it in the opposite angle to the way it’s used to going, causing Franks to squeak like a girl and rip his foot from my grasp.

“So, how have you been finding it, living together like this?” Carrie asked politely.

“You really want one of us to answer that?” Frank grumbled, rubbing his eye.

“It’s not been good then?”

“No. I hate it here. I want to go home!”

“What is it that you don’t like?”

“He’s such a fucking neat freak. Every five seconds I’m getting some lecture on something to do with neat-ness, and it’s like..you know what, asshole, I’m living here too. Therefore I can also do what I want,”

“How’d you figure that?!” I interrupted. “I own this place. I paid for it. I’m paying rent,”

“Yeah, and I have to get a job to ‘help you’. So when I get a job, this place will be half mine, and I can do what I want,”

“It doesn’t work like that,”

“I’ll think you’ll find that it does,”

I looked up at Carrie who was furiously scribbling things down in her note book and instantly felt a wave of humiliation. It was all pretty pathetic really. I’m 23 years old, and I’m arguing with a 19 year old about the neatness of my apartment, in front of some woman who we didn’t know, who’d probably already judged us for the simple reason that we’re both gay and both managed to get ‘accidentally’ married.

I glared up at Frank. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t convinced me to go out with him that night which was actually only around a week ago believe it or not, none of this would have ever happened. Or could it be Mikey's fault, for insisting we go to Vegas?

Then again, it could have been Mr Roberts fault for insisting that I take time off. Which really, all stems down to it being my fault for working too hard.

Shit. It really is un-fair how true reality can be. Oh well. I was still going to sit here and glare at Frank.

“So, do you think that you have absolutely nothing in common with one another?” Carrie asked, looking curiously at the two of us.

“No. We have absolutely nothing in common!” I snapped. Franks leg kicked out at me again, and this time I grabbed it and pulled him off of the sofa. He brought a cushion down with him, and ended up hitting me with it as he landed on the floor. I’m sure this really did look hilarious to an outsider.

“I think you do,” Carrie said, looking in some ways confused. “I think you’re both very, very good at acting like children,”

“I am a child,” Frank stated, a cheesy grin lining his features.

“That may be so Mr Way, but I everyone needs to grow up some time,” and with that, she stood, and left the apartment, leaving the door wide open as she went.

“Well, that went well,” I sighed, glancing at the door, realizing I was still sitting on the floor with Franks legs over mine.

“Sh-She called me ‘Mr Way’,” Frank gasped, shock clear in his voice.