FicWad

Frank’s POV

My new room was actually pretty cool. It was a little smaller than my old one but I like this one better. It was an extension at the back of the house. One of the walls is solid and the other three are part wall, part window. Kinda like a conservatory. But it has these sort of bamboo like blinds that I can roll down, so it’s private enough for me. It looked out into the back yard and into the back yards of the houses either side of us.

At the moment, my room was packed with boxes. The movers had already brought most of the heavy stuff in. Like my bed and desk. There was already a tall bookcase there when we moved in along with a built in closet.

I was looking for a box with my stereo and Cds in it. And if I found my bed clothes that would be a bonus. I will plug in my stereo so I have music to work to and bedclothes so I can just collapse onto my bed when I’m done.

Yes, I intend to unpack it all today. Even down to the posters on my wall.

I was standing right in the middle of my room. My bed is right in front of me. It was on the wall opposite the door. My closet is on the same wall as the door. I sniffed and knelt down among the boxes, my knees clicking as the joints bent. Most of the boxes had my large, messy chicken scratch in thick sharpie scrawled on the side. I knew I was looking for the one that said ’[i]Frank’s music stuff![/i]

“FRANK!”

I stilled my movement when I heard [b]his[/b] voice. I hadn’t even heard him coming.

“Uuh… Yeah?” My voice shook a little. Aww shit, c’mon stop being a pussy.

“What did I tell you boy?!” My father hollered at me.

“Uu-uh… I-I.” I honestly couldn’t remember. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“I told you to stay away from the neighbours!”

“I-I didn’t go anywhere near the neighbours. I have been in my room.”

“I saw you earlier on the front step. Leering at that runt of a boy next door. The one in trouble with the police!”

Oh. [i]Him[/i]

“I didn’t talk to him or anything. Honestly I- Oofft.” He cut me off with a quick blow to the side of the head.

“SHUT IT!” I squinted my eyes trying to get my eyesight back into focus.

“I told you to stay out of sight!” My father bellowed, his face flushing and flailing his bulky arms.

“I’m sorry.” I murmured.

“Oh you will be boy. You really will be.”

That was his final word before he pushed me to the side by my shoulders and left my room, slamming the door. I was expecting more, so I was surprised that he just left. He’s obviously too tired.

I moved backwards step by step towards the wall, when my back hit it, I let myself collapse to the floor. I was still so confused about all of this.

Now, let’s get something straight here.


I’m not.


Straight, I mean. I think I’m gay. I say think because I do find some girls attractive. But I find myself looking at guys too. I have for the past year. So maybe I’m bi? I don’t really know. What I do know is that it is wrong.

There is something wrong with me.

I am wrong.

I’m disgusting. My dad says so. I believe him. I know that what my father says is right. And a couple of kids at my old school told me that. So they must be right too.

Dad moved us into the suburbs of New Jersey from just outside NY city. My dad is a company executive. I don’t really know what that means but it sounds important.

Anyway. Dad moved us out here after some of our old neighbours, my dad’s friends, found out about me. They found out from their kids at school. (They caught me staring at some of the other guys in gym class and never left me alone after that.) They just randomly asked my mom if it was true, if I was gay and she had no clue what to do or say. Then my mom told my dad. And he just flipped. I still have some scars from that night. It was only a couple of months ago. I’ve never seen him so angry. And it was all because of me. He hasn’t really let up since then either. If he has a bad day at the office. I need to make myself scarce.

My dad said people wouldn’t like us anymore because of me. So we moved. He’s trying to make sure no one here finds out about me. I’m sick, he is trying to make me better. He is trying to ’straighten me up’, his words, not mine.

So you see. There is something wrong with me. If there isn’t then why does my dad say so? Why did those kids say so? Why did dad move us here because of me? Why does my dad do what he does?

Some people have told me that it is a beautiful and natural thing and no one can change that. I’ve read about Gay Pride and all that. And I know that they aren’t wrong or disgusting.

It’s just me.

I know that in this house, what my father says goes. I’m too scared of what will happen if I tried to talk back to him again. I’ve tried it before. I got a punch in the gut. I stayed quiet, I got a slap in the face.

A slap in the face is better than a punch to the gut in my opinion.

My mom is like a robot. Seriously. She is a neat freak too.

I know she doesn’t like me a whole lot. Not the way a mother is meant to love or at least like her son. I was an accident. That’s why my mom and dad got married. Because I was on the way. I don’t think she’s happy. And I wouldn’t really be surprised if she is getting some on the side. But my dad makes enough money to support the whole family, so she doesn’t have to work. And I don’t hear her complaining. Y’know?

I stood up from where I was on the floor. I looked around at all of my boxes. Just scanning over my writing that adorned the fronts of them. I had to tilt my head to the side a little to read properly. Then my eyes stopped on the one I was looking for. My stereo! I unpacked it, plugged it in and set to work on unpacking the rest.


A few hours later. Once I had hung the remainder of my clothes up in the closet and stuck my last poster up, I stopped and took a look around. I now had my lampshade on the main light, my bedclothes were on, my posters were up, my comics were stacked on the bookcase, my Cds were all piled up near my stereo which was on the floor, My guitar was safely secured on it’s stand and a small light on my desk, which also served as a bed side table.


There was still something not looking quite right though. I looked around the room, then I looked out the windows out into the back yard and the lights from the swimming pool were on, reflecting the water on my ceiling. It was relaxing. Then I realised what was wrong. All the blinds were up. I walked over to the first set of windows and found the string mechanism that pulled them down. I drew them closed, they were Venetian blinds, so I could tilt the little panels so that they could let a little light in or block out the light completely. I chose to keep it shut tight and then repeated the process on the others. Leaving one tilted just a smidge so that I could still see the reflection from the pool dancing above my pillows.


I stripped down to my boxers and t-shirt and peeled back my covers and slipped into bed, not sure of the time. I knew it was late though. I was tired. After switching off the lights, I rested my head on my arms behind my head and stared up at the dancing shadow, feeling slightly relaxed.


My mind wandered to the boy next door, wandering what he had done to have the police chase him down. Maybe he was dangerous. But he had a kind face. And he had a nice smile, well it was actually a smirk.

I found myself smirking too for a moment.

**


Pretty please review?




puppy dog eyes