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Chapter Fifteen – A Friendly Face

Frank’s POV



Gerard messed up again, didn’t he?

He must have done because if that phone call had been everything that I’d beseeched him it would be, Mikes would be here making up with his big brother and Gerard would currently be eating breakfast with me instead of taking an abnormally long shower.

Now, some might think that I’m making quite a huge assumption based on the fact that my boyfriend is having a shower, but I know it to be true; at around half three this morning I heard him swear rather violently down the phone before punching what I presume to be the bedroom wall, a tell-tale sign that he’s messed things up for that poor kid once again. I don’t know what he said, only that it resulted in him crying himself back into a restless sleep when I finally re-entered the bedroom, eyes ablaze with concern. His eyes, however, looked to be torn between being either absolutely livid and being completely heartbroken. So I know for a fact that he’s messed up.

A-fucking-gain.

I really do feel extremely sorry for Mikes, for my best friend and surrogate little brother; he really doesn’t need Gerard acting like some drama queen right now. What he needs is for his big brother to shut the hell up for once and just listen to what he actually wants; he needs a big brother whose temper doesn’t snap so often that it might as well be an elastic band; he needs a big brother who takes the time to figure out exactly what’s going on in his head before acting like he knows every last detail about the problems that he doesn’t even understand. I love my Gee, I couldn’t love him anymore if I tried, but sometimes he really does make me quite cross. The poor kid tried to kill himself a few months ago so I think that it’s really nice that he’s got himself a boyfriend, a loving relationship really can make the world of difference between having a bad outlook on life and having an extremely positive one, but all Gerard can think to do is try to end it between Mikey and Pete.

I completely understand why the idea of Mikes in a relationship could scare Gerard, it kind of scares me too if I’m going to be honest, but that gives him no right to act like he did; the things that he yelled at his little brother really do make me feel physically sick, the poor kid probably only wanted Gerard and Pete to get along, for his only family to approve of his first boyfriend.

But no. Gerard being Gerard decided that it was too good to be true, that someone else can’t possibly love his little brother as much as he does because, in his eyes, Mikes is this train wreck of a kid that only he can love; I don’t know why he sees things this way, but I think he has some sort of complex about being the most important person in Mikey’s life. He just needs to understand that Mikes isn’t a baby anymore, that he is going to grow up and fall in love and, more likely than not, get pinned to many more beds than just his own.

That poor kid though; holy shit, he looked way too broken for my liking the last time I saw him. He looked like all that we, the three of us together, had started to rebuild had come tumbling down and completely crushed his innocent little heart. Apart from worse, like he’d just seen someone tear the strings off of his beloved bass, like he’d just been told that the world is ending and that it’s all his fault. And Gerard had caused it entirely, had made his little brother look heartbroken almost beyond recognition. Why ‘almost’? Because seeing Mikes, poor innocent and sweet and friendly and introverted Mikes, looking heartbroken is, regrettably, a sight that I’ve become all too accustomed with seeing.

But the level of heartbreak in his lost, agonized eyes when Gerard piled all of those spiteful little lies onto his undeserving and already overstressed soul? That was like nothing I’ve ever seen before and nor do I ever want to see that look inhibit his naïve, good-natured orbs ever again; it was like all of his tears were stabbing black holes of pain into his cocoa-coloured irises, like his eyes were just bleeding inner agony. Not that I blame the poor kid, he looks up to Gerard like every word that comes out of his, admittedly stupid, mouth is gospel and he must follow it, so being told that his big brother still thinks of him as suicidal after all of the hard work the Mikes has put in to get better isn’t the nicest thing in the world for that poor kid to hear.

On his mom’s birthday, as well.

He only bought a boy home, only started kissing his boyfriend in the privacy of his own bedroom. Admittedly that in itself is more than enough to make me a little bit uncomfortable, the kid really is extremely fragile and in every possible way, but if it’s what makes Mikes happy, which neither me nor Gerard seem to be able to fully do, then I don’t see the problem with it. If Mikey’s in love and this Pete person loves him back then I, for one, am extraordinarily happy for him; he deserves someone who can hold him tight and kiss all of his wounds better. But I know Mikey and I know that until Gerard stops being a dick, for lack of a truer word, his first relationship is going to be a rather traumatic experience.

I just don’t get it, not at all, no matter how hard I try to understand my beautiful boyfriend I just can’t comprehend how he can think that yelling at a constantly frightened kid would solve anything. What the Way brothers need to do is just sit down and talk things through; talk about what Gerard used to do to him, the bullies at his old school, losing their parents, getting attacked in that goddamn alley, his attempted suicide and, most pressingly at this moment in time, Mikey having his first boyfriend. A boyfriend who I know for a fact that he ran to because aforementioned boyfriend’s name is what I heard when I asked Gerard who had picked up the phone.

I couldn’t help but feel a little glow of gladness at that; the fact that Mikey trusts this guy enough to run to him after being yelled at like he was, in such a way that made him feel the need to escape. I just hope that this Pete person looked after him well enough, dried up all of his tears and kissed his soul better. Because that’s the least Mikes deserves, just a bit of love and affection from someone wonderful enough to be willing to give it. But if he has taken good care of Mikey then why was Gerard yelling at him like a starved lion roars at his prey?

Wait, I know the answer to that; because Gerard really fucking hates Pete. This isn’t at all fair on Pete and especially not fair on Mikes, on the kid who thought that he’d never be loved but now is; and Gerard tried to convince him otherwise. I know that he only said half of those things because he’s terrified of what Mikes might do to himself if Pete dumps or mistreats him in any way, but he’s got to give the kid a chance to live the life that he wouldn’t be if he’d had his way a few months back. He’s got to give Mikes a chance to heal himself, make his own mistakes and just be normal; not try to live out the kid’s life for him.

But what if this Pete really is a user, is some horrible shit who’s taking advantage of Mikey’s innocent naivety and loneliness? It’ll kill the poor kid if his first proper romance is anything less than what he thinks it is. What if Mikes has run to Pete’s and Pete has taken full advantage of that?

No. I’m starting to sound as bad as Gerard; for Mikes to trust this guy enough to actually stick up for him and then run to him, he must be really special. Still though, I want to give the guy a proper quizzing. Not just because I want to know if he has any malevolent intentions, although that’s obviously a huge part of it, but also because big brothers are meant to be like that with their younger sibling’s first boyfriend, right? Just in a friendly way, obviously, but I want to grill this guy before I completely fall to the ground and worship him for making my surrogate little brother feel loved, feel confident enough in himself to believe that somebody really does love him after he’d deemed himself worthless.

I wonder what sort of things Pete likes; does he play any instruments? Is he a snuggler or a cuddler; is he a joker or someone who takes everything seriously; is he a chatterbox or is he quiet like Mikes; is he strong or weak; has he had loads of past relationships or is Mikes his first; will he protect Mikey or let more bad things happen to the poor kid? That last one is the most important question to me, for someone to be going out with my boyfriend’s little brother then he most definitely has to be able to protect the kid to the best of his ability or else he’ll never convince either me or Gerard that he’s worth Mikey’s time.

Apart from he has already proved that he is more than worth Mikey’s time, proved it because Mikey seems to think that he is and, at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this situation because, at the moment, Mikey is the most important thing in both mine and Gerard’s lives.

I really thought that when I spoke to Gee in the early hours of this morning that he was honestly going to try, that he was going to speak to Mikes and give Pete a real chance to show him that he isn’t as bad as Gerard believes him to be just because he was topless and on Mikey. Admittedly that did surprise me quite a bit, it shouldn’t because the kid’s sixteen after all, but it did. Because I always thought of Mikes as innocent, as childlike and, well, cute. Not the sort of person to have some tanned, toned and, from what I saw, extremely good-looking guy shirtless and on top of him; not that I don’t condone this. If anything I’m proud of the kid, the laddish part of me is anyway, proud that he found it in himself to attract such a decent looking boy. Fuck decent looking; Mikey’s got himself a damn hot boyfriend. Which is another reason for me to be cautious of him, another reason that Gerard has for the disgusting way that he behaved; someone who looks like Pete does usually end up being a heartbreaker just because he has the looks to enable himself to be one. Apart from it really isn’t fair to judge Mikey’s first boyfriend based on looks alone, based on what could well be and probably is a false stereotype; no, I’m going to take the time to get to know the guy before I pass any sort of judgement. And even if I don’t like him, unless I think that he could be endangering Mikey in any way, I won’t say so. Because I want the poor kid to finally be happy, be happy without having to worry about two disapproving brothers.

Brothers.

I really do feel like I’m Mikey’s big brother now. Like we’re best friends and about as close as Mikey can allow himself to be to anyone who apparently isn’t Pete. I was worried when I first moved in that he might be bitter about it; might feel like I’m stealing his real big brother away from him or that he might hate me for, if I’m going to be painfully honest, leading him on and then pushing him away. But then I realised that it was Mikes I was talking about, a kid too rundown to realise that bad things should be blamed on people other than himself. And so we got on like a house on fire, just like before the kiss, him not talking all that much but it not really mattering because I can tell all that I need to from his eyes; can interpret every little whimper, sniffle, hand gesture and facial expression to the point where we can practically have a conversation without him having to talk. Now though he does talk to me when nobody else is around and we actually have normal conversations about normal things that aren’t enough to be essential to talk about, if he’s having a good day he’ll even approach me and start the conversation instead of waiting for me to coax his cotton-soft voice from his wispy lips. But I never pressure him into talking, not unless I can tell that something is seriously wrong, I’ll always make it perfectly clear that I won’t be disappointed or cross if he doesn’t want to say anything in return. Nowadays though, more often than not, he will grace my ears with a semi-confident mewl of response. It’s just when Gerard is around that he is highly likely to stay silent, like he’s still afraid of his big brother.

Not that I can blame him, not after yesterday afternoon, not after all of the other times like it, not after Gerard used to beat him. I know that Gee has apologized for it, but it’s like he thinks that just because he’s said sorry it means that it never happened; that three years of making Mikey bleed can just vanish purely because he feels guilty about it. I know for a fact that it still haunts Mikes, still makes the poor kid jump whenever Gee gives him any unexpected contact. I had a quiet word with Gerard about that once. It did not go well.

”Gee, can I speak to you for a sec?” I ask softly, feeling more than a little apprehensive about what I’m about to say but knowing that I have no choice; I vowed to help the Way brothers from the day I met Mikey and this is something that I really can help them with.

You see, whenever Gerard so much as pats Mikes on the back or hugs him from behind the poor kid reacts like he’s a cat and someone’s just stamped on his tail. His eyes widen and flood with raw fear, his body shakes and he starts to practically hyperventilate whenever Gee so much as taps him on the shoulder without giving the poor kid fair warning. It isn’t the same when I do it, only when Gee does, and I know exactly why; every time Gee touches him without Mikes seeing it coming all he sees, all that flashes through his traumatised mind, is what Gerard used to do to him. I can’t see how Gee isn’t seeing this, isn’t seeing how he needs to be gentler with the poor kid or else he’ll never not make him jump.

“Sure, Babe. Whatcha wanna say?” He grins sleepily up at me from the couch, patting the area next to him and so I flop down unceremoniously, my hands running through my hair in anticipation about his reaction to what I know I have to say for the sake of my surrogate little brother. “Frankie, what’s up?” His voice is full of concern this time and he wraps an arm around my shoulders in confused worry.

God. He’s going to hate me for saying this, I know he will; but if I don’t then he’ll never get back to his old footing with Mikes. Which is exactly what the both of them need.

“Look, there’s no easy way to put this, but, Gee, I think you need to stop touching Mikey. It frightens him when you do without letting him know.”

“Frank, he’s my little brother; I’m allowed to give him a hug if I want to.” He laughs incredulously at my heartfelt plea, shattering any sort of blind optimism that I may have had about how this may play out. “Where’d you get that idea from?”

“Gerard, I’m not saying don’t hug him; I’m saying make sure that he knows you’re about to and that he’s comfortable with it first. You know how panicky he can get, Babe.” I smile gently at him, my eyes full of caution and a longing for him to stay controlled; Mikey’s only upstairs, he’ll definitely hear if Gerard starts yelling about him.

“And you’re saying that’s my fault?” I don’t know how to describe the way he sounds; it’s like he’s half bitingly furious and half hideously hurt at what I’m suggesting. “He’s my baby brother, Frank. I think I know how to handle him. He knows that I would never hurt him.”

“Gee, you know full well that he doesn’t know that at all! Look, at least just think about it, for me, yeah? That poor kid nearly runs a mile every time you touch him, you just need to make sure he’s aware when you’re about to, that’s all.” My tone is that of complete despair, I understand why Gee doesn’t want to hear this but he really fucking needs to; for Mikey. For that poor kid he scares half to death on a daily basis without full realising it because he just doesn’t want to see it. “Please.”

“Whatever, Frank.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I’m knocked from my miserable memories of catastrophic failure by someone knocking on the front door, knocking like they’re not sure if they should be here; just three quick taps too fast to be thought about and taken back, kind of like the knocker is scared that the door will consume their hand should it linger too long upon the door. With the same sort of speedy nervousness of a bunny poking it’s head in and out of it’s burrow in search of any sort of potential danger. So I push myself from the worn-out old couch, the one that my month-old conversation with Gee took place on, and traipse wearily across the living room to the passageway leading to the front door. The passageway runs straight from the front door to the stairs, with a doorway on either side leading to the living room and kitchen respectively, so when I pause in front of the door I can hear that the water is still running in the upstairs bathroom.

Poor Gee, he never manages to get things right first time and I can see how much it kills him, how much it’s starting to take a toll on him; he just wants to give Mikes all that he needs, but he’ll never be able to do that unless he actually takes the time to figure out what the poor kid really does need instead of assuming that he knows it all without question. He just needs to forget what he thinks he knows and learn it all again, correctly. Apart from I know that he never will; because he’s so set on being some sort of father-figure to the poor little orphan that he thinks he possesses all of the knowledge that a father does. He doesn’t. Really doesn’t. As this whole mess can prove.

There’s another set of knocks on the door, this time more insistent and a lot stronger; definitely not from the same knocker as before, this hand (or most likely, fist) is far more confident in it’s definite actions. So I run to the door and swing it open, not caring that I’m still in the clothes I slept in and that there is still coffee staining my breath from where I haven’t had a chance to brush my teeth yet.

I swing the door open to see my adoptive baby brother standing sheepishly on the front step, hands fiddling with each other and eyes cast anxiously to the ground. And there’s someone stood defensively behind him; arms like a seatbelt around Mikey, fastening just a little below the shaking kid’s stomach by the way of his own two hands clasping together like the catch of some priceless gold chain. The older boy, for from his dangerously narrowed eyes I can tell that he is the eighteen-year-old that I’m taking him for, has his chin resting over Mikey’s left shoulder, his floppy waves of jet black hair flecking the scar-studded skin of Mikey’s face. His positioning around Mikes screams fierce protection and from the way that Mikey is actually leaning into the contact I can tell that it’s working; that he really does trust this kid, who I’m guessing to be Pete, to protect him like he deserves to be protected.

I think that I’m going to get along incredibly well with Pete; just by the his stance and the way he looks like he’d take a bullet for Mikey is enough to make me instantly like him. And the fact that Mikes is pressing himself against the older boy’s chest makes me like him all the more because anyone who can make my little brother (in every way other than blood) feel comfortable enough to lean into them like he is then they already have my gratitude and respect.

Hang on. What are those red marks on Mikey’s, usually moon-like, face? They look like scratches, like properly fucking painful tears in his delicate skin, like someone’s taken the red-hot horn from a demon’s head and dragged it down his face. What if Pete did them? What if he hurt the poor kid? No, he seems about as likely to hurt Mikey as I am. But how the fuck did those searing scratches befall such an innocent face?

That’s when I realise that I’ve been staring at the pair of young lovers stood on my doorstep, Mikey with eye’s nervous and begging for acceptance, Pete’s eyes yelling something different entirely; say anything to upset the kid in my arms and I will kill you. The intensity of his glare is only done in a defensive way, though, only done in a way that’s meant to keep his little boyfriend safe and so I don’t find him at all threatening; in fact the ferocity of his protection makes me approve of him all the more. But I’m still staring, staring and gawping because I wasn’t at all sure when Mikes would be coming home.

I’m so fucking glad that he is. That he’s back where I can keep him safe.

Apart from by the looks of things, he’s got Pete to keep him safe now.

“Mikes! You’re alright!” I can’t help but sound like a hyperactive toddler seeing a ridiculously cute puppy, I’m just too happy to see the kid to really care about making a show of myself in front of his tough-looking boyfriend.

That’s when I realise that Mikey’s clothes look to be made for a giant on him, look to be swamping his body like a veil around a bride; Pete must have leant them to him. They suit him, look like they make him a part of someone else; of the someone that I think he was born to be a part of. I’ve never been a believer in the theory of true love, that there’s one person for everyone, but with these two I just might make an exception; Mikey looks to fit right into Pete and Pete looks to be everything that Mikes needs. Made for each other, a perfect match.

“C’mere, Kiddo.” I beam at him, my eyes letting him know that I’m nothing but pleased to see that he’s alright, bar the mysterious scratches. I hold my arms out to him and I see Pete immediately release him from his own hold, gently nudging his younger boyfriend into my open arms where I clutch him like an overprotective mother clutching her war-bound soldier son. “I’m so sorry, Mikes, really I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that in front of you and I’m sorry. So sorry, Kiddo.” I gently rub the back of his head with my hands, letting his hair flick through my fingers like sand, and I look up from him to see Pete looking extremely pleased with himself; like just seeing Mikes with his family is enough to make him smile.

I definitely like this guy; he’s got my approval already.

“Frankie, I’m so sor-“

“No, Kiddo. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay? Absolutely nothing.” My silken words of remorseful sincerity smother his blasphemous apology; all that poor kid did was bring his boyfriend home and get shouted at, neither of which are anything to apologize for. I look to Pete once more to see that he’s grinning in approval, so I give him a friendly smile in return. “Now, why don’t you introduce me to your boyfriend, Mikes?”

I finally release the kid from my arms and a kind of warm, fuzzy feeling bristles my insides when he steps back into Pete’s hold; they really do look perfect together; like Pete’s the impenetrable treasure chest and Mikey is the heaven-sent treasure, just like two people in love who really do deserve to be together.

“Frankie, this is Pete.” My heart flutters a little at the way Mikey’s eyes glitter at the sound of his boyfriend’s name, as though it’s some magical enchantment that he is truly blessed to be allowed to speak. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Wow, he actually looks happy; like just being in his boyfriend’s arms is all that he cares about and the fact that I’m not mad with him/haven’t punched Pete in the face yet are all he needs to be happy. And maybe it is. Because Mikes really is in love with this guy, just like the awed eyes of his beholder tell me that Pete is with him. So I step aside and gesture for them to follow me into the living room, offering them the two-seater couch in favour of the armchair. Something inside of me melts at how cute they look together, Pete sat with Mikey pulled protectively onto his lap like he can’t bear to take his hands off of the kid. And Mikey’s just the same, his hands constantly pawing adorably at Pete’s arms like he’s touching pure gold dust.

This is a completely different kid from the one who ran off last night; sure he’s still got that slightly melancholy look in the back of his eyes and the scar trailing down his face, but he seems so much more at ease with himself. I don’t know what Pete did to the kid, but I love the guy for it; love him like a brother for fixing mine.

If only Gerard could see it that way.

Looking at the two now, Pete’s gently nuzzling his nose into the hair on the back of Mikey’s head, I can easily see how Gee might have walked in on something extremely un-innocent looking. I mean, they’re not being at all explicit or anything but Pete’s holding Mikey so tightly that I can definitely imagine him taking kissing to a whole new level; the kind of level that even I will say could be too much for the meek little sixteen-year-old currently sat in his lap to handle.

“So, Pete, nice to meet you, Dude. I’m Frankie.” I greet him warmly, hoping to God that Gerard isn’t about to come down any time soon; Mikey looks so content that I can’t stand the thought of Gee snapping in front of him again in front of the poor kid. I flop into the armchair opposite the couch, intently eying the two to see if I can see any sign of something to reinforce Gerard’s obvious and vehement dislike of Pete.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Frankie.” He smirks, coming out from behind Mikes and gently nudging the kid to sit next to him so that we can have a proper conversation. Their hands immediately grip one another though. “Look, I know our first meeting wasn’t exactly great, but I really want to start again. You seem like a cool guy and you mean a lot to my Mikey; I’d really like to get to know you.”

He really couldn’t be any better for Mikes, could he? I think the only way I could approve of him any more right now is if he suddenly announced that he can resurrect the dead, or would learn to just for Mikey. He called him ‘my Mikey’, I guess some people would interpret that as him being overly possessive, but coming out of Pete’s mouth it sounds like the most affectionate few syllables to ever be uttered; not to mention the heart-warmingly sweet little blush that the name has painted onto Mikey’s cheeks. He really is the exact opposite of what Gee’s taking him for; I can’t imagine that this guy would ever hurt Mikes. However, I can easily imagine him turning pretty nasty pretty quickly where defending the cute little kid is concerned.

“Pete, it’s forgotten, Dude. You make Mikes happy and that’s all I care about.” I feel an overpowering sense of achievement when I see him and Mikey turn to one another, lips tugging upwards and eyes aglow with complete contentment. I can tell that Pete is fighting off the urge to kiss Mikes in front of me, like he thinks that I’ll react like Gee did. And maybe that’s for the best; I don’t want him being anything less than angelic with my little brother. Not whilst I’m around to see, anyway. “So, what did you two get up to last night?”

Okay, so that was in no way intended to sound as dirty as it did.

Nor was it meant to make Mikes wince and Pete pull the kid safely into his chest.

Shit. What happened?

“I… I didn’t go straight to Pete’s. I got kinda lost and I…” He looks to Pete with beseeching eyes, as if handing over a relay baton.

“I found him passed out, on the pavement outside the ninety-nine cents store.” I want to just go and scoop up the poor kid amidst my panic; the only reason I don’t is because he’s snuggled himself firmly into Pete’s chest, the older boy’s hands resting reassuringly on his trembling back. “Frank, do you know that Mikey doesn’t eat? Not at school, not at all. I only just got him to eat a slice of toast before we came over here.”

Oh, Mikes. I thought you were past that, past the whole not-eating thing.

Poor kid, nobody even noticed. Including me; I let the kid down, and I’ve honestly never felt any worse. I feel like my heart is beating so hard that it’s smashing into my gut, making me feel physically sick with guilt. Now that I think about it, really properly think, I haven’t seen him actually eat anything with my own eyes for a long time. In the mornings he’ll sit with us at the table, but I don’t think that I’ve ever registered him consume any of what he puts on his plate. At school, well, we send him with lunch and we never get any back; but how hard would it be for him to shove it in the bin? At night we let him eat in his room, understanding that school is stressful enough for a kid like him without being forced into conversation with us.

Why though? Why won’t he eat anything? It just doesn’t make any sort of deluded sense whatsoever. He’s dangerously underweight as it is, the hospital told us that much when they discharged him, so he can’t seriously think that he needs to slim down. It’s almost as though he doesn’t think that he deserves food, like he can’t bring himself to eat it for some deeply disturbing reason that only he knows.

And I didn’t fucking realise.

“Mikes… Oh Kiddo. What… Why… I don’t understand, Mikey.” I stammer hopelessly, not caring that Pete is looking at me with eyes that are telling me has more to say. “Thank you, Pete. For helping him out.”

“He’s my little angel, aren’t you, Sugar?” Although it’s a reply to my thanks, I know that it’s mean to console the shaking heap of Mikey that has somehow found it’s way back into Pete’s accepting lap. “Frank, he had a nightmare back at my place and well…”

“He-e knows.”

I see Pete’s eyes flash with shock at Mikey’s frightened little whisper and dread wells up within me; why can nothing ever turn out nicely for that poor kid?

“My Mikey had a nightmare about… certain aspects of the past.” Shit. I know exactly what that means, exactly how terrified the poor kid must have been. “It got really bad and he… he ended up scratching himself all over. I’ve bandaged up his arms, but his face is still pretty sore.”

Oh, Mikes. Nothing ever works out for you, does it? And even when it does, your horrible memories snatch it away. It really isn’t at all fair, is it; for someone as naturally shy and kind as Mikey Way to suffer like he is bound to at the hands of his past for the foreseeable future just isn’t right.

I catapult myself from the armchair and launch onto the couch next to Pete and his lapful of quaking, crying Mikey. For a second mine and Pete’s eyes look into one another’s in an almost business-like way.

“I’m so glad he has you, Frankie.” He offers me a small smile, the kind that is nothing but honest pleasure at having made an ally in his war to save this poor kid from himself.

“I was just about to say the same to you.”

But then I realise; I can no longer hear the water running from upstairs. No longer can I hear the whir of the boiler as it struggles to provide warm water for my boyfriend’s shower. What I can hear, however, are forceful, threatening breaths coming from the doorway.

I anxiously look up.

Shit.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”





A/N: Thank you very much for reading; I hope that it was alright and not too boring. Thanks for reading and please review! :)