Frankie Fever

I wasn't gonna' do it.

Of course, I wasn't really going to do it.

Where?

When?

It wasn't like he could just come round and ask for a drink, which I could then slip them into when he wasn't looking. Sure, it'd work but then what? The sofa was a big no. Mikey's would be upstairs. And it just wasn't right. He might pass out completely; not the sexiest situation in the world. It all seemed too much like a scene from a bad film.

And let's not even touch on the moral law side of things. Kant would be ashamed.

I sighed to myself, spilling the pills onto the wooden table surface. They rolled around and scattered like ants over the table until I cupped my hands and scooped them all into a neat pile. I then stood back with my hands on my hips, wondering what to do with them.

Ding dong

Ding dong

It was Frank at the door. I did a double take when I first saw him. He was stood with that smirk on his face he always got when he was feeling smug or pleased with himself. One hand was closed around a bottle of red wine and another clasped a pizza box, resting on his slender waist.

"Pizza?"

"Mm, I'd have a slice of that anyday."

Okay, okay, enough of my twisted little fantasies.

But why had he brought wine and pizza with him?

"Well, I dunno' about you," He husked "But I'm gagging. . ."

I almost choked. What?! My eyes fought against me, desperate to pop.

His smirk seemed to blaze hotter, the temperature rising way past smoking hot, maybe even past incinerating hot. My cheeks started to feel warm.

"For a drink."

And that sent me plummeting back down way below freezing. Way to kill the mood, Frank.

He stepped past me with a kissing gesture, handing me the pizza and waltzing off into the living room. I closed the door behind me and trotted off to the kitchen, quickly covering the pills on the table with the pizza carton. Frank had busied himself with removing his shoes. Unlike any other person, he decided to bend over and untie the lace on one shoe, remove it and then do the same with the other. Surely the logical thing to do would be to sit down and remove your shoes? But hey, why was I complaining? I could pry on his ass.

There was a groan of disgust. Frank then swore under his breath and I found myself with a shoe in my face. A shoe, you ask. A shoe which just happened to have dog muck all along the sole. I reached out grimly to take it from him.

"Probably next door's poodles," I explained "Nasty little things! Always going on our lawn!" I continued, turning to stick his shoe in the sink.

"You should chuck it back!" Frankie said.

Then there was a rattle and an excited little cry.

"Jesus, Gerard," Frank laughed, eyeing up mount pill now revealed from where he'd picked up the pizza carton "And there's me thinking we were gonna' have a quiet night in."

I rolled my eyes as he winked playfully. I then went outside into the utility room, where Mom kept all the cleaning supplies so I could deal with Frank's shoe emergency. I don't know what our neighbours fed those things but that crap really stunk!

* * *

Walking back in with a clean shoe for Frank, I got the shock of my life. The pills on the table were gone. Like, gone. Not there anymore! They'd done a Harry Houdini on me.

I gasped in shock, dropping the shoe and rushing forwards as if they'd reappear if I was quick. I dropped to my knees and proceeded to crawl under the table in case they'd rolled off or something. Oh God oh God oh God. Where had they gone? Where on Earth could they be? Oh God!

And that's when I got yet another nasty shock.

Frank was stretched out on the couch, motionless. I gasped in shock and rushed over. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. Oh God, I'd killed Frankie! I'd never forgive myself. And, knowing Frank, his ghost would haunt me forever!

Okay, I'm cracking a few jokes but I was actually scared outta' my mind!

"Frankie?!" I questioned in shock.

Nothing.

"Frankie?!" I questioned leaning over him and placing one hand on his chest "Frankie? Breathe! Please breathe! Please be breathing!"

A soft exhale. A cloud of grey smoke wafted into my face, making me cough slightly. Frank opened his eyes and looked at me like I was completely mad. He lifted his cigarette and took another drag, exhaling again, his eyebrows crossed as he looked up at me like I was the maddest person on the planet.

"What are you doing?" He demanded "Are you on something?"

I shook my head and stuttered out the word no.

Frank took another thoughtful drag and let his eyes wander downwards. He exhaled and looked back up at me again, an expression of attitude on his face as he did so.

"Then why is your hand on my package?"

I blinked, glancing down at the hand not on his chest. Oh God. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

"I, um. . . I. . . I-I uh. . ."

Thankfully, Mikey saved my ass.

"Geraaard," He whined from the hall.

I straightened up and made a quick exit to go see what he wanted. Mikey did not look good. He was leaning heavily on the stair banisters, his eyes were heavy and he looked really pale. I crouched so I could see him better and reached out to touch his forehead.

"Mikey, what's the matter?" I questioned "Are you feeling okay?"

He shook his head slowly and almost groggily. I brushed his fringe back from his face and felt his forehead again. And then two things happened at once.

There was the click of the door lock, indicating Mom and Dad were home from their anniversary dinner and Mikey went limp, colliding with me before he hit the floor face-down. I dropped to one knee in shock and shook him. He was out. Like, out. I looked up in desperate search of help as Mom and Dad stopped dead where they were at the sight before them.

"Oh my God!" Mom cried out.

"Gerard?!" Dad asked at the same time.

"What's going on?" Frank questioned, coming out from the living room.

He froze and went rigid when he saw Mikey. Then he covered his mouth with one hand as if in pure shock. I blinked rapidly at them, slowly looking from one shocked expression to another horrified one to a terrified one. A tear broke free.

"I don't know," I croaked out as my voice cracked "He just suddenly. . . he-he. . . I'm sorry."

They all rushed forwards, automatically assigning themselves a different task. Mom rushed to Mikey's side, Dad rushed for the phone and Frankie rushed forwards to put his arm around me and help me upstairs to my room.

Once up there, we waited for the flashing lights and sirens to arrive. Frank sat with his arm around me while I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until we heard those wailing sirens of reassurance.