FicWad

I run home with Gerard the zebra, it takes about 1 minute 30 seconds. I fling the front door open, toss the zebra down onto a sofa and then go to see my mum, if I didn’t she’d have a heart attack with the thought that I didn’t return home.
“Hello?” I call.
“Frank!” Mum shouts back to me “How was the fair!?” She sounds way too excited.
“Okay, I guess.” I reply. Should I tell her about Gerard? I mean, she’ll have to know I met him sooner or later because I’m going to his house in less than an hour. “Um, I met a new lad, he’s joining out school on Monday.” I admit.
“Oh lovely, what’s his name?”
“Gerard.”
“Nice name.”
“Yeah, um, I arranged to see him in an hour, if that’s okay?” Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
“Depends, what’s gonna happen? What’re you going to do?” Heaven forbid I tell her what I was planning to do!
“He was going to come here for me, and then we’d chill at his house.” Most of that’s true...
“I guess that’s okay then! I’d go get ready if I were you then!”
“Okay, mum, I’ll be down soon.”
I run upstairs to my room, trying to find something nice and clean to wear; it’s summer, so I can wear something short sleeved. I decide on a black vest top and my light denim skinnies. I’ll wear my black leather converse too.
Another check in the mirror, to see if my face looks like it did back at Bob’s. It looks okay, so I guess I don’t need to change that again. I have 45 minutes until he comes for me... What could I do?
I run and pick up my guitar. I plug it in and play it to my heart’s content – whether they’re my favourite songs or my own songs, the one I wrote that I love to play the most is called Early Sunsets Over Monroeville; I could play it endlessly without getting tired or bored of it.
Time passes and I hardly realise as I strum note after note, song after song; getting lost in the music forgetting about everything that troubles me and all of my problems. I guess it has the same effect on me as being with Gerard does, it has this calming, soothing and memory wiping power so that you focus on that and that alone, giving it all of your attention, whether it’s a loving guitar or a beautiful human.
More melodies pass out of my instrument and into my ears, the beautiful harmonious chords being made by my fingers caressing the fretboard in a way that only I know how.
I glance at my clock for a second; half an hour left. Oh what to do now? I would love to continue with my guitar but mum would throw a fit at my ‘incessant noise making’. Maybe I’ll carry on with it later.
What could I do? Do I need to prepare anything to take? Maybe I should eat something? But what if we’re eating at his? Surely a drink couldn’t hurt... and I could brush my teeth again after to make sure my breath doesn’t smell horrific.
Running the 14 steps downstairs, I suddenly feel a wave of nervousness for some odd reason. It’s not like anything bad will happen, will it? I trusted him enough last night so why am I so anxious now? Is this an awful premonition of what’s to come?
I assure myself and then reassure myself over and over again that I’ll be fine, he’ll look after me just like last night and he’ll make me happy; nothing vicious or malicious, just some fun and a good time.
I get a glass and walk over to the fridge to see only one can of coke left in there, waiting for me. I open it carefully and pour it into my ice filled glass, forgetting about my worried as if he’s already here having that mind-numbing effect on me.
Now thinking about it, I actually might want something to eat before I pass out, only a little bit though, so it won’t fill me up just in case I’ll be eating with Gerard. I pop one slice of bread into the toaster, remove the butter and jam from the fridge and wait.
I feel like I’m being bombarded with ultimate questions today but my sub-conscious mind is asking it to my conscious self. This new one is whether Gerard and I are dating; we should be because I gave him my virginity; and that, to me, was the only thing I could’ve given him to say that I wanted us to be together, to love one another. On the other hand, he never asked and neither did I, and it never became ‘official’ so if it was never spoken, does it exist? Or was it one of these things that happen automatically without words?
My brain is so confused and I wish I wasn’t thinking like this just before the guy himself sees me again. A popping sound snaps me out of my thoughts. Toast is ready!
I spread the butter on first, watching it melt across the crispy toast and then applying a second coating, but this layer is jam, a pinky-purpley, sticky but sweet substance which makes it all the ore tasty and enjoyable.
I eat it within 30 second, realising how hungry I actually am. After not eating for 24 hours, suddenly eating this one slice of toast has given me a food craving.
Two slices of bread in the toaster. More waiting. I’m sick of waiting, it seems like my whole life I’ve been waiting for SOMETHING. Could HE be it?
Pop. The same routine as last time; butter then jam, slowly and evenly spreading it all over the golden toast. Eating my toast and drinking my coke is starting to fill the emptiness of my stomach just enough so I can carry on for a while longer, depending on what’s happening later with Gerard.
I wonder what Bob’s thinking of now; will it be Mikey? And he he’s not shown as much interest in him and his brother has in me?
I wonder what Ray’s thinking about; how irresponsible I am? And how this will somehow blow up in my face, leaving him to help me out throughout whatever tragedy happened?
I wonder what Mikey might be thinking; why is Gerard so hung up on this lad he just met? And what should he do about Bob?
Finally, I wonder what Gerard’s thinking; Is he thinking of me? Or something else? Is it good or bad, is it’s about me?
I’m so worried again, what if there’s an ulterior motive to these actions and possible thoughts of these people? What if someone doesn’t seem to be what they are? I mean, if I’m involved in something in any form of romantic way, something’s fucked up. Paranoia crashed over me like a 10 foot wave, making me anxious, putting me on edge.
A noise distracts me. Like a bubble popping. My phone. I pull it out. One text.