I was awoken by a scratching noise, coming from downstairs. At first, I tried to ignore it but it became more insistent and loud. I quietly crept out of bed and glanced at Frank. He was curled up in a ball and meowing softly in his sleep. God, he’s cute. No Gerard, he’s your best friend. You can’t think of him like that. Besides, he doesn’t know you’re gay, and he’s straight!
I pushed the thoughts of my sweet Frankie aside and continued on my expedition downstairs. I felt a pang of fear when I reached the bottom of the stairs, because I had no idea what the scratching noise could be. In the movies, this is the part where they grab a baseball bat, right? And there’s always a murderer. No, FRANKIE! I don’t want him to get hurt. I have to protect him.
Crazy thoughts were going around in my head, but all I wanted was to protect Frank, so innocent and sweet, sound asleep upstairs.
I knew that I didn’t have a baseball bat in my house, I wasn’t really into sports. So I decided on a frypan as my choice of weapon. I was shaking terribly, and walking slowly towards the sound. It was coming from the other side of the front door. I stood close to the timber, with my sweaty hand clasped around the door handle; preparing myself for whoever, or whatever, it was. I took in a deep breath, and swung open the door, shouting incoherent abuse as loud as my lungs would allow. I swung the frypan around like a maniac, desperate to protect my best friend. After a few minutes, I calmed down and realised there wasn’t anybody standing in front of me. I looked across the road and the only person in sight was the middle aged man who lived across the street. Great, creepy Phil saw me lose all sanity. I sighed. That’s when I heard it: a small, cute sound. Meowing. I looked down, and saw a dirty ball of fluff at my feet. I crouched down and examined the creature. It was a tiny kitten, all covered in mud. It’s fur was matted and it smelt like wet dog. Wet cat?
It was shivering in the winter air, so I took off my shirt and wrapped it around the poor kitten, and brought it inside.
“Gerard?” A sleepy voice mumbled. Damn it, Gerard. You woke up Frank.
“Hey, Frankie. What are you doing up?” I replied innocently.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, Gee. It’s 4:30, man.” He rubbed his eyes, still talking sleepily. “I heard you shouting out my name… hey what’s that?” He gestured to the bundle in my arms.
I felt my cheeks turning red. I recalled shouting something about protecting my Frankie. Oh my god.
I tried to hide my embarrassment and shake off the comment. “It’s a kitten. I found him outside. See?”
I moved a bit of my shirt away, and revealed the sleeping kitten that I had found. Frank smiled, “He’s so cute. Needs a wash though.” He scrunched his nose when he said the last part. It was adorable, it gave me butterflies.
Fuck Gerard, best friends! Nothing more, ever. And even if you did like this, which you do NOT, he would never like you back so stop being so stupid.
“Gerard..?” Frank poked me, and laughed when it startled me.
“Oh, I was just thinking…” I whispered. I looked into Frank’s beautiful eyes. It made me smile. He looked confused, and tilted his head to the side a bit.
“What were you thinking about?”
Shit. I couldn’t tell him I was thinking about him, and especially not the way that I was thinking of him. Nobody must ever find out. I won’t have these thoughts again, ever.
“I was thinking… that we have to wash this cat!” I laughed, but on the inside I was freaking out. Would he believe it? He did.