I was nervous all the way to my house. We had only moved in last week, the house was a tip, boxes littered everywhere, I dint even have most of my stuff sorted out yet, almost all my Cds were still unpacked and we didn’t even have much edible food in the fridge or cupboards. We hadn’t for a while, not since mum got obsessed over healthy eating and shit. And what if I did something wrong, what if I said something stupid, were they even really my friends at all? What if they thought I was weird?
And then there was Gerard. The person I had almost forgotten, my oldest friend who I had been inseparable from as a young child. What if he didn’t like me anymore?
“So, how much further, Frankie?” Gerard asks, smiling at me, the slight breeze whipping his crimson coloured locks around him, tangling it ever so slightly across his forehead.
“Not far, about five more minutes.” I tell them, answering his question, my stomach doing some odd back flip as his grin widens.
“Great, I am literally dying for a drink.”
“Don`t exaggerate Geetard.” Bob elbows him in the ribs, being carful not to hut him too badly. Gerard shoves the sandy haired, mischievous boy away; Ray just rolls his eyes, and keeps following in silence.
We were almost there; I could just about see the house form here. It was relatively new, only about five years old and small, two bedrooms, a living room, bathroom and a kitchen. It was nothing special, not the Ritz or anything like that, but it was clean and warm and we had a roof over our heads.
“You see that house there with the driveway and the purple net curtains in the window?” I ask, pointing at the rather boring looking, characterless house. The three of them nod.
“So that`s the living room,my mum usually just sits there watching really crappy TV shows so I usually avoid it.” I briefly show them the medium sized room. Boxes still filed the four corners, scuffing the newly painted, bare cream walls. The faux leather charcoal sofa stood against the back wall, facing the Television, a glass and wood coffee table with a few hardly noticeable rings took up most of the space.
“Anyone want food?” everyone shrugs, mumbling something that definitely sounded like a yes. So I tell them to head upstairs and go to search for some snacks.
I head up the white carpeted stairs, closely followed by Ray and Bob, who hasn’t stopped casting me smug,knowing smiles and glances ever since we left school. It unnerved me a little. Okay, more than a little. I was almost sure that he knew what I thought he knew, but there was no way in hell I was going to bring it up, especially with Frank on his way up the stairs, so neither did he.
When we reached the small, dark landing there were two doors in front of us, one either side. One of them, Frank`s, was badly painted a dark red, stickers of Band Logos and random cartoons covered it. A black KEEP OUT sign was nailed to the centre, looking rather shaky, when we opened the door I half expected it to crash to the ground.
The room itself was quite small, a little larger than a box room. The walls were a dark blue, band posters were hung haphazardly to them, some were rolled up and lay on the floor, waiting to be put up. Several large cardboard boxes took up a lot of space in the far left corner, what appeared to be a wooden shelf and instructions on assembling it sat in one of them, tools lay next to it. The room was quite dark, a window near the single, unmade bed that was no different to my own let in some light, but not much, due to the thick, partially drawn curtains hung across it.
“Hey guys, I`m back, and I have some snacks.”Frank enters the room, supporting a tray of crisps, chocolate and a can of coke for us all. I run over and take it off of him, and place it down on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.
“Cheers man.” Bob takes a drink and chucks a can at Ray, the silver can just narrowly missing landing on the floor.
“You got some cool shit in here, like this.” Ray points to a rolled up poster that was by the side of the bed.
“Thanks.” Frank bites on his bottom lip, looking incredibly cute as he did so. I frown; my brain was stupid and needed to get control of itself.
“Aww, cute dog, I`m more of a cat person though, is he yours?” Bob picks up a slightly blurred image of a mongrel dog, framed in a simple red frame.
“Erm, yeah, that`s my old dog. He died last year.”
“Oh, I`m real sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“Nah, it`s fine, don’t worry.” Bob forces out a sad smile, while Ray pats Frank lightly on the shoulder, comforting him. I narrow my eyes, something I hope goes unnoticed. I wanted to be the one comforting Frank, he was my friend first, remember? God, I sound like a jealous three year old.
Which you are, dumbass.
Don’t you just hate those irritating voice in your head, I know I did.
“Wanna listen to music?” Frank asks after a silence that was neither awkward or pleasant.
“Sure, what you got?” I ask, walking over to him, smiling shyly. He raises his hand and points lazily over to a stereo, complete with top of the range speakers that were resting on the ground. Next to the machine was a black, velvet Cd case that was almost completely full.
we pick out a Cd and he puts it in and clicks play, the familiar, raw song pounding into our ears, the posters on the wall began to shake, along with some of the items on the table by the door that held a few things like books and random bits of paper, I assumed were pieces of homework.
“You play?” Trust Ray to be the first to notice the guitar sitting right in the corner of the cramped room.
Frank`s cheeks redden and he ducks his head forward, fringe shielding his eyes slightly from us.
“I’m not any good.”
“Looks like he writes music too.” Bob picks up one of the sheets of scribbled on paper, and thrusts it into Frank hand.
“Yeah but I`m not any good, remember?”
“I bet you are!” I say with too much enthusiasm, earning myself a weird, confused look from Ray and a knowing, cocky one from Bob, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Frank is still just standing there embarrassed, shyly looking around, not meeting my eyes.
“Frankie?” I ask, smiling shyly at him. “Please play something?”