FicWad

“Have you ever wanted a cat?” Frank asks me, once we’re safely within the confines of our bedroom.

“A what?”

“A cat. Have you ever wanted one?” He asks as we both strip down to our boxers, throwing our clothes down the laundry chute.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Should I want a cat?”

“I dunno. Do you?”

“I don’t know what it is!” I exclaim.

“Oh. Sorry. It’s like, a pet.”

“Pet is a verb, not a noun.” I say.

“An animal, you know?!”

I blink. Silence. He sighs.

“Like, another form of life besides humans?” He tries.

“Like milk? Nan said that milk is alive.”

“Um...No. Like, small furry creatures.” He says, giving me a strange look.

“You’ll have to show me someday.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“You promise?” I ask. He looks surprised.

“You know what a promise is, but you don’t know what a cat, or as they say in French, chat is?”

“Nan just taught me the basics before she was deleted.”

“Oh. Well yeah, I promise.” He says. I grin.

“I want to go to where you’re from.” I say. He sighs.

“Yeah...”

“Are you NOT going to take me?” I ask, alarmed.

“God, no! I will! I just was thinking about my side of the in this case proverbial universe.” He say, eyes lost in memories.

"Oh. What was your life like?" I ask.

"Hm...you want my life story?" He asks. I nod.

"Yes, please." I say, I want to know more about him so, so badly. Like I've never wanted anything before.

He chuckles, like something is funny. "I'll give you a short version, for now. I'm tired." He says. "Well, I was born and raised in New Jersey, and-"

"Is it nice in New Jersey?" I ask, I want to ask where it is, but I'll just get more confused.

"Yeah, when people aren't trying to murder you." He says, frowning.

"Does that happen often?" I ask, appalled.

"Oh, not that much. So yeah, let's see... I dropped out of high school, to do this. Il' go back and finish later."

"High school?" I ask. He nods.

"Also known as the place they send teenagers to learn. It's a pretty violent and dramatic place." He explains to my dull mind. "I'm 17, by the way. You?"

"Um...I think 18." I say. I was 13 when Nan died, she counted the days and I've had five patterns during my work, one per year.

"They don't celebrate?" He asks. I shake my head.

"That's sad. But I suppose, good. On my 16th birthday I told my parents I was gay and they kicked me out. That's actually how I got into this. That, and my sister is a conspiracy theorist. On another note, I was living with my friend Ray-"

"Is being gay bad?" I ask, concerned.

"No, of course not. Some people think it is, but that's because of their belief in God, which is semi impractical if you ask me." He says, stopping with my questioning look.

"What's God?" I ask. He keeps mentioning this word.

"Are you serious? You don't know who 'the creator' is?" He asks.

I shake my head. "I should, shouldn't I?"

"Oh! Um, no, it's not your fault you don't. God is, if you will, a mythical creator of the world and humanity. It can't be proven He exists, but some people think He does despite logic and write laws against things they deem unfit to exist." He explains.

"People like us are unfit to exist?" I ask, a bit afraid. "What gives God the right to say that!" I almost yell.

"My point exactly." He says. Oh.

"So this God...is like the false creator of life?"I ask.

"Close enough." He shrugs.

"Anything else I should know about you?" I ask.

"Not really anything else important. I'm tired, we can continue this some other time." He says, yawning.

"Well, night then." I say, up climbing into bed/

"Yeah, night." He says, obviously drifting to sleep. Oh, the thing I could do now...I gasp, appalled at my thoughts. I need to go to asleep and stop thinking about how beautiful Frank is. After a long while of attempted sleep, I finally manage to fall into Frank-filled dreams.