FicWad

It's visiting hours, and Mikey sits alone in his cell. His roommate is one of those aforementioned child molesters, so he's glad he has some time alone; it's incredibly awkward between the two. However, he can't understand why someone who does horrible things to children would be receiving visitors. He lays back on the lumpy mattress, cradling the back of his head with his hands. He remembers the first time he met Frank. A painful memory to recall; but one that insists on playing in his mind. He closes his eyes.

--

It's a cold day. A brisk wind infiltrates my body, making goosebumps break out on my skin. I pull my long trench coat tighter to my body, and duck into the nearest Starbucks. A welcoming gush of air immediately washes over me as soon as I step in, reminding me of one of the reasons I love this big corporation so much. It's just so damn welcoming.
I see her waiting for me, head bobbed to her lap where I see a small, crinkled book. Since I had my laser eyes surgery, my eyes have been so sharp. I indentify it as 'Dracula' and smile to myself; I mentioned how much I loved it to her last week, and it seems she's decided to pick it up. Clutching my steaming latte, I head over to her.
"Good choice of reading material." I smile. She starts, obviously shocked by my sudden presence. "Hi Mikey." she says in a breathy whisper. She pushes her mouse, curtain like hair back from her face, and smiles sweetly. Her grey eyes are so familiar and warm, I automatically lean in, and press my lips to hers. "Hey Kaitlin." I grin as I pull away.
I seat myself opposite her, and take a sip of my latte.
"Always loved the coffee, haven't you Mikey?" Her question is rhetorical, but I smile and nod anyway. I can always relax and be myself in Kaitlin's presence: she's so innocent and kind. She closes the book, and places it carefully on the table. "I got a new job." She announces, and joy surges through my body for her. Kaitlin's been searching for a new job since I met her; working in a pet shop was never her dream. "Oh yeah? What is it?" I ask, watching her taking a delicate sip of her green tea. Kaitlin doesn't drink, and eats organically. I had to beg her to join me in Starbuck's when I first started dating her. She clears her throat. "It's, uh, actually in..." She pauses, and her big eyes meet mine. "Iowa."
"What?!" I burst out, choking slightly on my coffee. "Iowa? That's far... you can't make that journey everyday." I know she's going to announce that she will be moving, but I'm trying to skirt around that subject. Unfortuantely, she decides to tell me straight out. "I'm moving Mikey. It's a teaching job; I've wanted that forever. I can't miss this oppurtunity. I'm not asking you to move with me, I can't make you give up your life here."
An awkward silence falls. In the two years I've been dating Kaitlin, there had never been a time when we had nothing to say, or when silence wasn't comfortable and relaxed. Now I feel like I'm with a stranger.
"I understand," I say curtly, "You follow your dreams. I have to go now." I abruptly push my chair back, a horrible screech ensues, pick up my latte, and walk out. I look back only once as I get outside, and see her soulful eyes boring into mine. I turn around; only to crash into a man who was walking along the pavement. My latte sloshes down my coat.
"Oh! Shit! I'm sorry!" He cries. "Here, lemme get that." He grabs a tissue from his oversized hoodie pocket, and begans to furiously dab at the expanding stain. "Shit! I'm such a klutz." His nose and lip are pierced; he looks cute. "It's okay, seriously." I say, smiling. "Everyone makes mistakes."
Obviously glad I'm not going to chew his head off, he smiles, eyes flashing. "Well, let me buy you a drink to make up for it." He says, and motions to the Starbucks.
"Uhm, no thanks." I hurriedly say, not wanting to go back into the building where Kaitlin is.
"Oh god, you are annoyed. I'm sorry, seriously."
"No! Look you've got it wrong. I'm fine with you buying me a drink. Just not in Starbucks. Maybe we can go somewhere else and I tell you why."
His smile is back, and now he looks somewhat intrigued. "Okay then. We can pop to that bar on 16th street, if you want?"
"I don't know it, but sure."
The walk is about ten minutes. On the way, I learn that the man's name is Frank Iero, that he's originally from New Jersey, same as me, he came to New York for a visit and ended up staying much longer than anticipated. "I love it here," he says happily, "It's like, everything seems so haphazard from afar, but when you're here, everyone has their own job and makes it work in the greater scheme of things."
"And what's your job?" I ask, leaning into him slightly, yet not deliberately.
"I front a couple of bands. Mainly metal, vicious, shouty, music, but with good intent." He laughs, and it's truly infectious.
We reach the bar and I feel slightly saddenned: I was enjoying our talk. Or really, his talk and me laughing and eagerly listening. But when we get in, it's not crowded like I expected; it's a dimly lit large room with intimate booths. Frank obviously senses my unease, because he smiles nervously at me. "Sorry, I just love this place. I'm not here to, like, woo you or shit."
Once again, he makes me laugh. We situate ourselves in a booth in the centre of the bar, and Frank excuses himself. He comes back with two glasses, full to the brim with a orangey drink.
"It's a cocktail called 'Screwdriver'. Vodka and orange. Don't worry, it's manly." He laughs, and takes a swig. I tentatively sip mine, and my throat burns at the heat of the vodka. Frank sees my reaction, and laughs kindly.
"I've never been great with alcohol." I tell him. Even though I had such a feeble amount, I still feel my tongue running loose. I'm a lightweight, I realise.
"Actually." I begin to correct myself, "I used to be able to drink anyone under the table. Seriously, I could handle so much. But, uh, my girlfriend - well I guess ex girlfriend now - doesn't drink. She sorta wore off on me. I think this is the first drink I've had in two years."
"Ex grilfriend?" He asks, and takes a sip of his drink.
"Yeah. Well, that's why I didn't want to go back into Starbucks. I guess we didn't officially break up, but it's good as over. She's got a teaching job. In Iowa. And she's decided to leave me; follow her dreams." I realise how bitter I sound, and then try and lighten the mood. "Well at least i'm back on the market!" But I really hate the idea of not having Kaitlin around. I deign to tell Frank I'd planned on asking her to move in with me today.
"It's tough." Frank agrees, "I had to leave my girlfriend since highschool in New Jersey. Jamia. I miss her, but I don't think I would have left her if I still loved her. I fell out of love, I suppose."
We both sit in brief silence, contemplating our, now non-existent, love lives.
"Wow, how melancholy are we?" Frank suddenly asks, and jumps up. He walks to the bar, holding his empty glass, and comes back with four shot glasses filled with vodka. Setting two down in front of me, and two in front of him, he carelessly brushes my half full Screwdriver aside.
"Okay. Simple game. Take turns, and you have to take a shot and tell me something interesting about yourself. Sexual conquests expected." He winks, and then says, "You start."
I knock the vodka back, and my throat feels like it has been engulfed in flame.
"Right. Mikey, tell me. Favourite sex position?"
I inadvertently blush. "Missionary, I guess."
"Missionary? Shit Mikey,no offence, but that's like the first one you ever do. And you do it only once, because sex is so much better in other positions."
I feel defensive; my hackles rise. "I guess I just find it more romantic. Like, eye contact and shit."
He shrugs, and then takes one of his shots. "Ask away, Mikey boy."
Lack of imagination when drunk means I ask him the same question he asked me.
"I like...probably the bridge position."
"Erm, what?" I ask, never having heard of it before.
"Like, i'll kneel down, and the girl will sort of bend back, like so she's in a bridge position, and then you enter her. It's sweet. Seriously." He smiled, like he was relieving a fond memory. I liked how he didn't sound crude; he made sex sound somewhat scientific.
"Okay, Mikey, your go."
Taking a shot, it doesn't seem as strong. My head feels light and I feel totally relaxed.
"Worst sex ever?" He asks, his eyes shining.
I have to think back. Kaitlin and I haven't had sex for about a month. There were some girls before, none of them particularily bad, but not good enough for me to remember too call them up if i'm ever in Jersey. With a startling realisation, I realise that Kaitlin was probably the worst sex. "Kaitlin." I reveal before properly thinking it over. "It was just ...boring. Like, yeah, we'd both orgasm, but it felt...tedious."
"Maybe it's good you won't be fucking her anymore." Frank gently says.
"Mmm."
"Okay, me now."
"Same question again, I guess." I say.
"Hmmm. Well, there was this girl, and we were having anal, and, eugh god, I pulled out, and there was like shit on my dick. I've never been so glad to be wearing a condom."
I cringe, but laugh along with him. It feels nice to be with Frank. I can relax. But then he looks at his watch. "Shit! I gotta go - band practice!"
"Ah, okay. Well, it's been nice meeting you. Thanks for the drinks."
"No problem. But, hey, can I get your number? You're a cool guy, I'd like to hang out with you again."
"Sure." I beam, glad i've found a proper friend in this bustling metropolis. I hastily scrawl my cell number down onto a napkin, and hand it to him. He's about to go when he turns to me, gives me a lopsided grin, and then leans forward, oh so lightly, and kisses me on the lips. His lips are soft and gentle, and I kiss him back, parting his lips to open his mouth. It's not usually my behaviour, but I don't know when i'll next see Frank. I want to give him a reason to remember to call me.
We pull away together, and his taste remains in my mouth. Alcohol and cigarettes, mixed with something oh-so sweet.
"I guess i'll be seeing you later Mikey." He whispers, and then, with a final wave, turns and walks out of the door.
I can't suppress the avid grin on my face.

His roommate has returned. Even though Mikey doesn't want his company, he knows it's going to stop him reflecting on the past. He's a weedy man, with wire frame glasses and a nervous twitch. Doesn't look like your average child molester, more like the local computer nerd. He smiles at Mikey, but Mikey looks away, not wanting a reason to engage in conversation.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, and Mikey ignores him. He carries on. "You're crying, has no one come to visit you?"
"No." Mikey says coldly. "Just leave me alone please."
"You're Michael Way, right?"
Mikey nods.
"Someone was there for you. Gerard Way."