FicWad

“Then why are you asking me?”

He shrugged, “You seem really cool. It’d be nice to have a friend for once.”

That shut me up. Wait, which of us is he talking about? Him having a friend for once or me having a friend for once? Does he spy on me all the time and decide I need a friend?

“Oh, I see. Well, yeah, I’ll go with you.”

“Frank, I’m not in any way using you, at all. Please don’t think of me like that. I just want to be your friend. You seem… kinda… I don’t know, you look lonely…”

Thanks for pointing out the obvious, because I didn’t already know that I had no one, so thank you for putting that into perspective for me, and rubbing it in. Yes, we will be the best of friends, Gerard.

“So, can I have your phone number so we can discuss details and shit?”

My eyes went huge.

“Oh! Yeah, here.” I reached into my bag and grabbed a pen. With my own still trembling, I scribbled my number down on the back of his hand. I pressed down ever so gently, afraid to tear through his skin and dig into the veins below.

They crawled along his bones and ran to the tips of his fingers, bulging from beneath his thin flesh, carrying his blood along throughout his arteries then back to his heart.

I looked from his fingers all the way up to his forearm and I imagined his blood trickling like a creek within the walls of his skin, racing my eyes. I could feel his eyes on me as I did so, and when I looked up our eyes locked for a second, before I turned away, embarrassed.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?” I asked, still looking away.

“Look at me.”

I did, and I honestly think I was hyperventilating.

He scanned my face for a second, making me even redder than before, before asking, “Is something wrong with me?”

“No…”

“Then why were you staring at my arm all funny before?”

“I don’t know, I was thinking about something.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have this, um, biology test this afternoon and I uh, just wanted to see if I knew all the parts of the, um, hand.”

He gave me a skeptical look and shrugged, then stood up and announced that he needed a fucking smoke and that he would call me later. He walked away, leaving me sitting speechless and completely in shock. As he approached the exit, he turned around and gave me a small smile before leaving, but I didn’t see it because I definitely was not watching him the entire time.

I think I’m in love.

Fuck, here we go again.
Chapter 2
Needless to say, I got no sleep all week.

Monday was a good start to those five days at school, because I had met Gerard.

I was sitting on my bedroom floor just thinking about how fucking awesome it was when he'd come and spoken with me. I sat there before and after supper replaying what I remembered from our conversation, over and over in my head, and I just smiled and smiled like the biggest fucking moron on the face of the planet. But then I realized that every time he asked me a question or addressed me, I had blushed and stumbled over my words. So I recited everything to myself, but whenever he would say something, I would make myself reply with something witty and sound so smart and cool.

Despite his promise, by the time I went to bed that night, he hadn’t called.

By Tuesday, the phone still wasn’t ringing, but I was kinda high on thoughts of seeing the Pixies, so my spirit wasn’t completely drained. I’d been into them since forever, but I still hadn’t gone to see them play, so of course I was feeling pretty good about things.

However, as I tried to fall asleep, I kept wondering and wondering what was going on, and from then on I could tell that it was getting me down. I stayed up most of the night tossing and turning, but not finding a comfortable position to sleep in. Each time I thought I was about to fall asleep, I kept thinking about sleeping, so of course, I remained awake.

But the main thing eating at my mind was that boy.

Wednesday afternoon was the afternoon that I decided to just give up because he obviously was never going to call. He probably hadn’t even planned on it in the first place. Maybe that was why he sat alone. Maybe he thought he was too good for everyone.

Regardless, I lost all hope, but it was even worse because I was anticipating a call from someone. No one ever called me. I got so excited over one fucking phone call that when it never happened, it just hurt. A lot. I went to bed that night feeling defeated and desperatly wishing to die in my sleep. It wasn't very fun.

I hadn’t even seen him around school. It was strange because even though I hardly ever saw him in the halls before, I would always see him at lunch sitting underneath the clock. However, he hadn’t been there all week.

I know it’s terribly pitiful to become so obsessed with someone after speaking with them just once, but I couldn't be blamed. It was entirely new to me, to have someone initiate conversation or ask me to accompany him somewhere.

I left each of my classes every day for at least half an hour, and just wandered, hoping that I’d see him somewhere. During lunches I sat with my food and nothing else. Since Monday, I hadn’t brought my portable CD player to school.

By that point I was just starting to get fucking angry because I didn't understand how he could do that someone. He was already in my head. Every thought revolved around him. Where is he? When is he going to call? What is he up to right now? What should I wear tomorrow to impress him? Was it really that funny to make friends with the loner and then laugh as you don’t keep your promise? Fuck you man, fuck you.

Basically, my entire week consisted of rushing home everyday after school and stealing the phone from the kitchen, sitting it atop my bed and waiting anxiously for it to ring. Four days of nothing but waiting and I could have been doing something productive, such as staring at the ceiling or wishing I were dead.




It was Thursday night when I was drying dishes for my mom and I heard it. My mom answered and handed the phone over, saying the call was for me.

I froze.

This is it. He’s finally calling. He has been thinking about me all week and now he’s going to ask me out because he’s in love with me. “No, Mom, I’ll get it when I’m done the dishes; it’s okay.” But I can’t see him or talk to him ever again! I’m such a loser! Once he talks to me for real and finds out how uncool I am he’s going to drop me like… something that gets dropped... what the fuck...

“It’s alright, just don’t be too long. You never get phone calls.”

I don’t care about housework - I fucking hate it, actually - but this time I didn’t want to answer the phone because I knew exactly who it would be.

I took it from her reluctantly, clearing my throat. “Hello?”

“Hey, Frankie?”

“Uh, yeah, who’s this?”

Bullshit. Like I didn’t know.

“It’s Gerard.”

“Oh, hey – what’s up?” Fuck fuck fuck, please don’t ask me to hang out with you…

“Nothing much, just wondering if you’re doing anything later, because maybe we could hang out and talk about the concert.”

My eyes went wide and if I opened my mouth I knew I would throw up the entire meal I had just eaten. “Oh, okay, uhh, let me ask, hold on.” I covered up the mouthpiece and waited a while as I made him believe I was asking my mom about it, then said to him, “I’m sorry, I’m busy tonight. My mom won’t let me, so maybe…”

“Frank! Don’t be so rude!” My mother screeched, standing right beside me. “Of course you can go out.”

I scowled. “Um, I guess I can hang out later, yeah. When and where?”

“How about we meet at the park at seven?”

“Sure, see you then.”

I hung up the phone and tried to ignore my mother’s lecturing about lying to people and how rude and inconsiderate I was being.

“Okay, Mom, I’m sorry.”

“So, who’s that calling for you?”

“My friend, Gerard.” I cringed at that statement, my fingers tingling.

“Oh, how come I’ve never met him before?” She crossed her arms and looked down upon me, which was possible because even though she was shorter than me, she could be quite intimidating and was very good at making me feel small. “You should have him over sometime.”

“I only met him this week.”

“Ah. Well, be home before ten and stay out of trouble! It’s a school night!”

Yeah, okay, because I’m obviously the type to go get into trouble.

After managing to not break any dishes despite my spazzing hands, I jogged upstairs and collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan above my body. It’s okay, everything will be fine. Just go to the park, discuss the concert, and come back home. I breathed heavily out of my nose for a few minutes to calm my nerves and grabbed a warm sweater, then brushed my teeth so I would have minty fresh breath for him.

While walking, all moisture from my mouth was evaporating into the cool spring air, leaving me parched and unable to swallow. My tongue sat in my mouth like a cadaver, completely deadweight. I knew I wouldn’t be able to speak to him.

I couldn’t believe it, though. I was on my way to the park, to meet up with the kid from the clock… Weird as shit to think about myself going on a date. Well, at least I’d like to consider it a date. He called me and asked to hang out, which, in my mind, means date. That’s right. I’m wanted.

So, scared, I walked on, knowing full well that when I did see him, I’d want to run away again because I’d be so panicky and afraid and unsure of what to do. He’s just a person… he’s just a person… But I wasn’t so easily convinced. I knew that I’d mess things up.

I get all worked up because I never know what to talk about with people. I can never just go with the flow and be collected and poised; no, I’d be losing my cool and worrying myself because whenever I get what I want, I tend to push it away. I’m not sure what makes me do that, other than the fact that I get all self-conscious and I feel undeserving, almost guilty, if things go my way. I don’t know why. I just believe that I’m taking too much from someone and I hate doing that. And I tend to get bored easily, so once I catch what I was chasing, I turn away from it. I think that’s another factor to the presently lonely and empty life I am living.

But it wouldn’t be that way for long. Soon I’d be at the park, sitting with Gerard. I could only pray that I’d be able to have a good talk with him and not just sit there fidgeting the entire time, while he’d say things and I’d zone out, my mind buzzing with the realization that I was sitting beside him. I think things would be a lot easier for me if he wasn’t so goddamn gorgeous and strange.

I pondered possible topics of conversation. We could talk about music, life, or school. The usual boring shit. I imagined him sitting on the swing beside me as he dragged his feet along the ground, gently swinging back and forth, the wind pushing his hair into his eyes, then he would use a delicate finger to swipe it away and he would look over at me and flash his tiny teeth.

That was so weird about him. He had the tiniest, sharpest looking teeth I had ever seen; they looked almost like an evil little baby’s, but his rough, scary exterior more than made up for it.

My thoughts were interrupted by the outline of the playground coming into view; the only playground in these suburbs.

And there he was.
Part II
As soon as I saw him, the skin on my face felt like it was melting and falling off my skull. I cleared my throat quietly in hopes that I could have an understandable speaking voice. I didn’t want that lunch period to repeat itself.

He sat on top of the slide, wearing that same jacket as his hair hung in front of his face. Concentrated on the cigarette he was lighting, he cupped his hands so the wind wouldn’t put the flame out. He looked up when he heard my footsteps trudging along through the sand. He gave a smile, as big as possible with a smoke between his lips, and he looked a little worn out. He patted the slide beside him and, using two fingers, removed the cigarette and exhaled to the side.

The playground consisted of a broad, red slide attached to a wooden platform, with a wall of rubber tires. The generic swingset stood outside the sandbox and towered over the roughed up picnic table. I guess that was why teenagers have bad reputations; because most of us have nothing better to do with our time than destroy things and write “FUCK” all over the surfaces where kids go to play.

Of course, seeing as how I never think things through, I ran up the slide and turned around, sitting down and stretching my legs out in front of me all within the span of two seconds.

I slid right back down.

Gerard burst into a fit of wicked giggles; he had this crazy, high-pitched laugh sounding like a hyena. Actually, I had never heard a hyena laugh before. But I knew that from watching The Lion King they are fucking creepy little animals. I made up my mind that I was unquestionably scared of him. I sat at the end of the slide watching him for a second, before I started laughing, too. I tried to catch my breath as I climbed up and joined him once again, this time crossing my legs.

“How are you, Frankie?” he asked in a low, raspy voice, as I felt his arm snaking around my waist.

Jesus Christ. He’s putting the moves on me… what do I do... what do I do...

Then he fucking pushed me back down.

I let out a yelp and I landed on the ground, flat on my ass. He started cackling again and slid down to sit beside me; meanwhile, I thought I was going to cry.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” I glared at him, trying to ignore the dull pain in my tailbone.

He stopped laughing and looked at me for a minute before letting out a little giggle. He lay back against the cold plastic to stare up at the darkening sky. “You’re funny, Frankie. Be my friend.” He sighed dramatically, exerting a sound of giving up, of defeat.

“I’ll be your friend, but you really shouldn’t push me down slides,” I retorted.

He shot up, his bottom lip pouting as he hugged me. “I’m sorry. It was just... really fucking funny to watch.” He pulled back and smiled at me, and I smiled back. He let out another one of those high-pitched, evil giggles.

This guy is fucking nuts.

Suddenly he was silent and was watching me, similar to how he had done at school. It is slightly disturbing when someone is just sitting there fucking staring at you.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. So… how’s school going for you?”

“Shitty, you?”

“Same.” He nodded and looked ahead.

“I hate everyone there,” I mumbled. "I just don't... I don't feel like I fit in, or something. Something's not right."

“Yeah, me too. They’re all the same. And I hate those kids who travel in herds and cling to each other. They piss me right the fuck off. I especially hate guys who think they're tough shit, when they're nothing at all.”

“Yeah. They’re so annoying, right?”

“Yes. So, I have a car, so I can drive there,” he told me, completely changing the subject. “Do you want to eat before we leave for the show or get something on the way?”

“What? What are we talking about?”

“The Pixies, man!”

The concert. I had almost forgotten about why I came here to meet up with him in the first place. I felt a quick surge of butterflies in my stomach.

“I don’t know, get something on the way, I guess. Why are we planning it already? Can’t it wait a month or two?”

He looked at me, jaw dropped. “No! We have to plan this shit out now!”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Why is he so weird? Who the hell does this before a concert?

“Yeah, so, anyway, I’ll drive there. We need to be there before seven because that’s when the doors open.”

“Yeah, probably.” At least that part made sense to me. “Do you uh, like, want money for gas?” I asked, practically flailing my arms around as I grew nervous after being reminded of his friendly invite. Fuck, man, you cannot do that shit right now. Keep them pinned at your sides and be calm.

“Naw, it’s okay. Save your money for a shirt.” He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“What? What the fuck are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at you. That’s kinda funny that you do that all the time, Frankie. You always ask me what the fuck I’m looking at when you know damn well I’m looking at you.”

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. It was getting really uncomfortable. I imagined his taunting voice whispering, I’m looking at you… I’m looking at you…

He reached into his pocket to retrieve his smokes, pulling one out and sticking it in his mouth. He even offered me one, to which I scoffed, disgusted.

“You know you take seven minutes off your life with every cigarette you smoke?” I asked rhetorically, eyeing the white stick.

“You gotta choose your poisons,” he replied, the cigarette balanced between his lips.

“You just had one of those! Why are you having another one?”

“Because I need it, Frankie. You afraid I’m gonna die?” He grinned lazily at me, his eyes half-closed. He cupped his hands around his mouth as he tried to light up, angrily flicking the igniter.

“Fuck!” he mumbled. Click, click. “Piece of shit!”

“Here, can I try?” I asked, just as an excuse to make conversation.

“Yeah, doll. Hit me up."

I flicked it a few times, cupping my free hand around it the way I had seen him do it, but to no avail. I tried a few more times and all I got was a friction burn on my thumb. I tried again and finally it lit up, making me smile with glee. I held it up as I reached toward him, cautious, as I was afraid of burning him.

He turned and leaned into the lighter with his cigarette still in his mouth, and he looked up at me, blinking slowly, while the flame was caught.

“Thanks, doll,” he said, still watching me and retreating to his previous sitting position.

I blushed, handed him his lighter, and tried not to smile while my face heated up. We had definitely just shared a moment. Way too close. Wow. Awkward.

“Frankie, are you okay? Your face is really red.”

Goddamnit. He likes to point out the obvious, I see.

“No, I’m okay.”

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not. I was holding my breath so that I wouldn’t have to breathe in the cigarette smoke.”

Yeah. That was smooth. That was good.

“Bullshit.”

I glared at him, trying to look intimidating.

He simply smiled and asked, “Can I ask you something?”

No! “Umm, sure?” Oh God, oh God what. My heart began to intensify its beating.

He looked down at his shoes and murmured, “Are you gay, Frank?”

I looked at him, trying to appear repulsed. “Are you kidding me? That’s sick.” I knew my hurried answer was a dead giveaway to the truth, but I tried to maintain eye contact for credibility.

“Oh, really? That’s cool. Sorry, then.”

“Okay…” My heart was pounding so furiously that I felt it in my ears and behind my eyes. I really wanted to just bury my face in my arms, or something.

“But you know what I think?”

I swallowed noticeably, and suddenly my voice was caught in my throat, unable to push through and escape my lips. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and I could see him leaning towards me and examining my face.

“I think you’re lying to me,” he whispered, the breath barely reaching my ears, but I heard it all the same, as his intriguing eyes darted all around my facial features.

“Well... what makes you say that?” I faced ahead of me and tried to sound as cool and collected as possible, but it didn't work very well.

I could feel his warmth right next to me. We were pressed side to side, and I dared to turn and look directly at him. His green eyes were lit and burning, much like the smokes he insisted on consuming, one after the other. He stared right back. Suddenly his eyes dropped to my mouth, then back up into mine before closing. He leaned in closer.

“Let’s see.” His lips were barely parted, I could smell the cigarette on him, and my breathing hitched as he laid his lips upon mine.

The sensation caused all else to dissolve into nothingness, the softness of his mouth against mine was something I'd never experienced before. It scared the shit out of me. Why did he just do that? Sitting back, my eyes skittered around in fear. I watched as he opened his eyes and looked back at me, his mouth looking hungry for more.

I swallowed. My pulse quickened. A throbbing overwhelmed my brain until it hurt and my vision lost focus. I needed to leave. I needed to stay away from him. I felt guilty. I had to run. He knew the truth about me.

“Oh my God…” I whispered. I got up, wiping the dirt off my jeans and turned around to get the hell out of there.

“Frank, where are you going?”

I heard him stand up behind me, but I ignored him. My first kiss. That was my first kiss. Well, I certainly did not imagine it to be happening like that. I kept my head straight and focused on the sidewalk ahead of me. I was almost there…

Out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm and jerked me back, not letting go. “What are you doing?”

“I… I have to go… home…” I gasped.

His eyes, his glares, that kiss; while attached to me he must have sucked the air out of me, leaving me to crumble and wither away.

“Are you lying to me? I’m so sorry... please don’t run away. I just want to talk to you.”

“No, no… I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I felt very lightheaded and my heart was pounding, I couldn’t breathe properly and I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“Please, just talk to me. I won’t touch you, I promise. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” His eyes were almost pleading, begging for me to cave.

“I bet I regret it more, Gerard,” I whispered.

“What’s that?” he was whispering, too.

"You... just... I'm sorry. I can't -”

I knew I was going to regret it later, but in that moment, I needed nothing more than to run away and hide somewhere and feel safe. I felt way too vulnerable, and I wasn't poised as I should have been. I was ruining everything.

“Come on, let’s go sit back at the park.” He tugged on my arm and I realized he hadn’t let it go yet.

No, Gerard, you don’t understand.