Categories > Original > Romance
Ad infinitum ( To infinity without End)
0 reviewsFrankie Deshane is a troubled young man with a history of violence; as an outcast in his own family he has always felt like ' the black sheep'. He is also in love with his best friend, Marissa Andr...
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From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Edgar Allen Poe, “Alone”
Marissa’s POV
If I could be certain of anything in my life, it was that my best friend has the ability to disarrange my mental capacity just by a certain gaze. In that gaze I saw many things, some things I loathed and others I wasn’t sure I could live without. Frankie was my childhood friend, a shadow of a boy turned into a troubled man, a recovering drug addict, an ex felon, always second best to his older brother. It took me a long time to realize that this very man, in all of his flaws, might have been the best man I ever knew… and one of the most important people in my life.
It was a chilled night towards the end of February; this was the very night that I felt two entirely different needs; the longing to be more than just friends… and the irking instinct to distance myself. I knew how his feelings towards me have shifted in the past few years, but I could not bring myself to admit the same. It wasn’t as if I was leading him on… more like I was afraid to admit how intensely attracted I was towards him, for if I did I would have no self control left. Loving him would only get myself into trouble that I didn’t need, or at least that is what the ‘little voice in my head’ always told me; I knew it was right. Still, I was so incredibly drawn to this man by a mixture of factors; he was my anchor, always there when I needed him, the sexual desire, the tension and arguing… I’m not sure which one of us is the weaker link. However, I do know that neither of us could survive without one another… it’s almost as if we are one half of a whole, not complete unless united.
I was supposed to be meeting Frankie at the abandoned art studio on the corner of Birch and Main Street in our sleepy hometown of Bristol Virginia. By the time I got there I found myself standing outside in the cold, pondering if I had made the right decision in coming here. I had my cousin’s wedding to attend in two weeks and I had two left feet when it came to graceful dancing. Frankie had offered to help me out, but I had no idea what he had in mind. The two of us had blown off a night of partying with our small group of close friends. To be honest I was nervous not knowing what was going to happen, nor did I like the idea of Frankie wandering around the streets by himself. Sure, Bristol wasn’t known for its crime but the potential crime wasn’t a problem; he has only been sober for about five months now. Even so, he did not become an addict by sitting at home, so my perspective of the town overall has been recently warped.
I waited for about fifteen minutes before I felt like I lost all of my body heat. Even bundled in a warm pea coat and gloves, my cheeks still felt numb upon entering. Not like the place itself had heat, but at least it stopped the icy chill of the wind. The place itself was rather dark, and the sudden vibrations of the cell phone in my pocket nearly made me jump. Five minutes into my wait, the lights began to flicker, until a dim but manageable light filled the room, making it a bit easier to see. I looked to see how the circuits seem to come alive, until a familiar face stepped inside; reasonably so I’m pretty psyched to no longer be left alone. I watched as Frankie appeared in worn jeans, a thermal shirt and a heavy faded leather jacket. He came with a stupid grin, but he always had a great smile, even in his youth.
“How did you do this?” I asked feebly.
“It isn’t hard when you know how to play with faulty wiring” he replied in his usual deep yet slightly sarcastic tone, “One of the many perks of jail time”.
When he came to greet me, he nearly towered over me; with my measly height of 5’3 it was safe to say he was about 6 feet tall. Frankie’s handsome looks became more evident as he aged his early teens; he had an edgy, rough look to him that I found different and interesting. His build was rather muscular due to his work in landscaping; his arms and chest adorned with a few tattoos. His dark brown eyes were accentuated by a thin face with a defined jaw line, with a thin patch of facial hair on his chin. His hair is dark brown, nearly black fine hair. He always kept it parted in the middle, shaped with longer bang-like pieces in the front stopping at his noise; the rest was cut shorter. What most girls found to be most attractive about him was that he never truly cared what others thought of him, especially his appearance.
“So what did you have in mind?” I asked him as I looked straight up into his face.
He let out a scoff of slight cockiness and embarrassment, hesitating before he opened his mouth to speak. A chuckle escaped his lips shortly after, exposing the slight dimpling of his cheeks.
“If you tell anyone I’ll kill you Red” he warned, in a lighthearted, playful tone. ‘Little Red’ had always been my nickname; years of its use had me stuck, due to my reddish colored curly hair.
“I swear I won’t Frankie” I promised.
He shuffled over my way after fiddling with some nearby light circuits to make the room a bit more laminated, and it worked for the most part.
“I know how to dance” he sheepishly muttered.
I stared in utter disbelief, “You’ve gotta be frigging kidding me!” I nearly shouted, unable to picture the most unlikely person ever to be caught dead dancing.
He sighed lightly, “My brother and I took classes when we were kids; Mom’s idea”.
“What kind of dancing?”
“That ballroom dancing bullshit; isn’t that the kind you do at weddings?” he asked legitimately dumfounded, as if this conversation was equivalent to the black plague.
“ I guess” I muttered while I pondered; I could him teach me… though I wasn’t exactly sure ballroom dancing was on the agenda, I suppose any type of dance instruction is better than none? I shuttered to think of my present dancing skills… degradingly mortifying and nonexistent.
“Well do you want my help or not?!” he asked, a hint of aggravation rising in his tone.
After a moment of hesitation, I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. “What the hell, I’m already screwed…” I joked while a sly smirk played its way across my face; something that Frankie noticed for the smile was contagious.
“Alright; let’s get to work. But you better pay attention cause’ I’m only going to show you this once, I want to preserve any shred of masculinity I have after this one” he told me, outstretching his hand to mine.
I knew I probably shouldn’t have taken his hand, for with each breath I was falling further and further into the abyss, making it harder to be able to claw myself out. Still, as I looked at him I almost welcomed the inhibitions and doubt with open arms, for I couldn’t resist the temptation…
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Edgar Allen Poe, “Alone”
Marissa’s POV
If I could be certain of anything in my life, it was that my best friend has the ability to disarrange my mental capacity just by a certain gaze. In that gaze I saw many things, some things I loathed and others I wasn’t sure I could live without. Frankie was my childhood friend, a shadow of a boy turned into a troubled man, a recovering drug addict, an ex felon, always second best to his older brother. It took me a long time to realize that this very man, in all of his flaws, might have been the best man I ever knew… and one of the most important people in my life.
It was a chilled night towards the end of February; this was the very night that I felt two entirely different needs; the longing to be more than just friends… and the irking instinct to distance myself. I knew how his feelings towards me have shifted in the past few years, but I could not bring myself to admit the same. It wasn’t as if I was leading him on… more like I was afraid to admit how intensely attracted I was towards him, for if I did I would have no self control left. Loving him would only get myself into trouble that I didn’t need, or at least that is what the ‘little voice in my head’ always told me; I knew it was right. Still, I was so incredibly drawn to this man by a mixture of factors; he was my anchor, always there when I needed him, the sexual desire, the tension and arguing… I’m not sure which one of us is the weaker link. However, I do know that neither of us could survive without one another… it’s almost as if we are one half of a whole, not complete unless united.
I was supposed to be meeting Frankie at the abandoned art studio on the corner of Birch and Main Street in our sleepy hometown of Bristol Virginia. By the time I got there I found myself standing outside in the cold, pondering if I had made the right decision in coming here. I had my cousin’s wedding to attend in two weeks and I had two left feet when it came to graceful dancing. Frankie had offered to help me out, but I had no idea what he had in mind. The two of us had blown off a night of partying with our small group of close friends. To be honest I was nervous not knowing what was going to happen, nor did I like the idea of Frankie wandering around the streets by himself. Sure, Bristol wasn’t known for its crime but the potential crime wasn’t a problem; he has only been sober for about five months now. Even so, he did not become an addict by sitting at home, so my perspective of the town overall has been recently warped.
I waited for about fifteen minutes before I felt like I lost all of my body heat. Even bundled in a warm pea coat and gloves, my cheeks still felt numb upon entering. Not like the place itself had heat, but at least it stopped the icy chill of the wind. The place itself was rather dark, and the sudden vibrations of the cell phone in my pocket nearly made me jump. Five minutes into my wait, the lights began to flicker, until a dim but manageable light filled the room, making it a bit easier to see. I looked to see how the circuits seem to come alive, until a familiar face stepped inside; reasonably so I’m pretty psyched to no longer be left alone. I watched as Frankie appeared in worn jeans, a thermal shirt and a heavy faded leather jacket. He came with a stupid grin, but he always had a great smile, even in his youth.
“How did you do this?” I asked feebly.
“It isn’t hard when you know how to play with faulty wiring” he replied in his usual deep yet slightly sarcastic tone, “One of the many perks of jail time”.
When he came to greet me, he nearly towered over me; with my measly height of 5’3 it was safe to say he was about 6 feet tall. Frankie’s handsome looks became more evident as he aged his early teens; he had an edgy, rough look to him that I found different and interesting. His build was rather muscular due to his work in landscaping; his arms and chest adorned with a few tattoos. His dark brown eyes were accentuated by a thin face with a defined jaw line, with a thin patch of facial hair on his chin. His hair is dark brown, nearly black fine hair. He always kept it parted in the middle, shaped with longer bang-like pieces in the front stopping at his noise; the rest was cut shorter. What most girls found to be most attractive about him was that he never truly cared what others thought of him, especially his appearance.
“So what did you have in mind?” I asked him as I looked straight up into his face.
He let out a scoff of slight cockiness and embarrassment, hesitating before he opened his mouth to speak. A chuckle escaped his lips shortly after, exposing the slight dimpling of his cheeks.
“If you tell anyone I’ll kill you Red” he warned, in a lighthearted, playful tone. ‘Little Red’ had always been my nickname; years of its use had me stuck, due to my reddish colored curly hair.
“I swear I won’t Frankie” I promised.
He shuffled over my way after fiddling with some nearby light circuits to make the room a bit more laminated, and it worked for the most part.
“I know how to dance” he sheepishly muttered.
I stared in utter disbelief, “You’ve gotta be frigging kidding me!” I nearly shouted, unable to picture the most unlikely person ever to be caught dead dancing.
He sighed lightly, “My brother and I took classes when we were kids; Mom’s idea”.
“What kind of dancing?”
“That ballroom dancing bullshit; isn’t that the kind you do at weddings?” he asked legitimately dumfounded, as if this conversation was equivalent to the black plague.
“ I guess” I muttered while I pondered; I could him teach me… though I wasn’t exactly sure ballroom dancing was on the agenda, I suppose any type of dance instruction is better than none? I shuttered to think of my present dancing skills… degradingly mortifying and nonexistent.
“Well do you want my help or not?!” he asked, a hint of aggravation rising in his tone.
After a moment of hesitation, I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. “What the hell, I’m already screwed…” I joked while a sly smirk played its way across my face; something that Frankie noticed for the smile was contagious.
“Alright; let’s get to work. But you better pay attention cause’ I’m only going to show you this once, I want to preserve any shred of masculinity I have after this one” he told me, outstretching his hand to mine.
I knew I probably shouldn’t have taken his hand, for with each breath I was falling further and further into the abyss, making it harder to be able to claw myself out. Still, as I looked at him I almost welcomed the inhibitions and doubt with open arms, for I couldn’t resist the temptation…
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