The 3am air is thick – it makes me feel like if pulled under water, maybe the lack of sleep or another trivial reason gets everything so artificial or, perhaps, exact the opposite.
The few minutes I spend in the bathroom feel like forever, but I find out it has just barely been eight minutes since the last text I sent Frank and a groan escapes my lips when I move to sit down on the bed, waiting for the message to let me know he is here.
My thoughts avert to everything that has been going on with Frank and, to be honest, I am not so sure about what I have said, regarding how I'm all excited about what's going on and getting to know him more. I mean, does he want the same thing? Frank's shyness is not just shyness, it is also defensiveness, a shield he puts on whenever he is around me, a mask preventing me from knowing his true self because I know that Frank isn't the real Frank, not completely. This can be frustrating.
I am not saying it is not Frank when he looks at me from under his lashes and offers a sheepish smile whenever I flirt with him or he asks me if I'm sure about all of this. No, damn, it's almost the opposite. I'm asking for more moments like when he tells me about how he likes going out with me or how pure it all becomes when he just melts in my arms when we hug after minutes of kissing or tells me a dumb story involving the other guys. I just hate when he hesitates to tell me something – at times, really stupid and trivial things – and acts like if I would shatter under the minimal pressure of the wrong words.
Gerard, as an example, hasn't been hiding himself away like that. Bert and the others – you can clearly see when they have something to hide, how their moods change and they don't like doing it themselves. They all let me know them.
To be honest, I don't even know why I'm relating all of these together, damn.
Fucking hell. I am overthinking again. I hate this. Both the fact I'm overthinking and all these intensified and messy feelings. It's not the time. Never trust goddamn 3am thoughts, never, even more when you're drunk with sleep, stressed with life and a thousand other things that can make your thoughts lead to shitty impulsive actions.
Where in the hell is even Frank?
Frank:
I'm here
As I walk out of the house, the cold air embraces me, an opposite to the warm feeling that fills my chest in the moment I see Frank there. I smile. "Hey."
"Hi..." Frank breathes and cracks a grin after some moment. "I, um, see? I told you." He brings his hands up to show a knife. Then a cupcake. I glare, what makes him chuckle as approaching. "But it's for a good thing, I promise," he mutters as he grabs the knife and cuts the cupcake in two before handing it to me with a proud smile.
"Hell, Frankie, you're so stupid!" I breathe a chuckle as taking the other half in hand. "How do I know you're not poisoning me?"
"You don't. That's the game," he teases back with the same casualty as cleaning the knife and retracting it so he can tuck it in his jacket's pocket. His smile widens the more I glare at him, so I decide to just eat my half anyways. "Mikey prepared this, actually, he can cook well when he wants to."
A hum of approval comes from me as I observe the cupcake for a moment.
We are unable to talk, due to eating, in a way only few nods are enough to decide we should start to walk by now. Silence hovers around us even after we're done eating and the red paper of the cupcake is rolled up in the bottom of a random trashcan. Still, Frank's tension is noticeable. His shoulders, his eyebrows, the extra blinking – it all gives away he's got something and the reason we're here is influenced by more than just boredom.
No word is shared, however, in our way to the skate lane. Once there, we just sit on the concrete, legs hanging from the edge of the bowl. It's well illuminated by the pale lights on top of the posts holding the grid fence up together, but one of them makes a buzzing continuous sound that signs its life is coming to an end.
I look down at our hands. Inches away. With mine approaching, Frank's hand slowly wraps itself around it before a defeated exhale escapes his lips.
"What happened?" I break the silence, glancing at Frank by the corner of my eyes.
"You do remember that I told you there was a lot going on, right?" Frank is hesitant, voice tight and heavy in his chest as he speaks. He tries to speak up again a few times, but they're attempts that go in vain and I don't pressure him, just giving his hand a squeeze. "I can't... I..." He presses his eyes shut for a moment and groans, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Don't worry, forget about this for now, okay?"
"For now," I repeat, sighing.
"I promise I'm telling you about it later." And his eyes wander around before his gaze finally locks with mine, with that look in his eyes telling me how complex the situation is.
"Alright." I smile, reassuringly.
Despite the lack of need to be so quiet, our voices are not more than whispers cutting through the emptiness of the night, words that are not many, but seem to hold more feelings than any other one shared between us did. He knows that, too.
Frank's eyebrows twitch a bit as he continues looking at me, his grip around my hand slowly getting tighter and it's all a quiet plead for me. He never faces it, for some reason, eyes drifting to the ground once I start leaning in until our lips are firmly pressed together – after that, his hand comes up to the back of my neck so he is able to pull me closer, humming pleased when I comply with what he wordlessly asks for.
There's something in the way Frank touches me – hesitant, but also wanting more, his intensity always followed by a tension he tries to erase and bury under more affection. It makes me wonder if it is all due to whatever is happening with him, but I limit myself to patiently wait until Frank is ready.
Spending time with Frank is always comforting, somehow, for no specific reason or maybe no apparent reason. It feels like the few weeks we've known each other for are actually much more, considering how the way my heart flutters whenever he smiles isn't unknown to me, or how his hand feels in mine. I've cogitated telling him about it at some point and gave up after a couple of attempts and thought better about it – coming up with something like that out of sudden would be weird and maybe give Frank a wrong impression, what I absolutely don't want, afraid of scaring him away.
I'm only aware of how long has passed when the sky starts getting lighter, gaining a dull greyish blue tone like it does before the sunrise.
Frank sighs and squeezes my hand, reality reaching both of us again when he does so, having been replaced by a comfortable silence minutes ago when we reached the end of a conversation and put ourselves to observe the sky.
"So..." Frank speaks up first, tongue running along his bottom lip as he looks at the nothing, thoughtful. "I'm sorry, but... I'm afraid this is the last time we meet like this."
His words make my heart sink. Well, he can't be serious, right? Unfortunately, he can.
Once his gaze meets mine, Frank widens his eyes, alarmed for a moment. "It's not because I don't like you! I like you a lot, damn, that's even why I wanted this to be special. We... Ugh, this is difficult. Really difficult. I-"
"You don't need to justify yourself," I cut Frank off, noticing the growing nervousness and wanting to stop it. "It's not something serious. If you want it to stop, we will stop."
"The thing is that I do not want it to stop, but it needs to," he groans, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "Everything is much more complex, it is not the life it seems, fuck... I wish I could explain it all to you. I am sorry. We are not meant to be, you shouldn't even have fucking met me." He stands up without warning, hugging himself, and I move to stand up too, but he steps back. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. Stay away," he calls as starting to walk away and I decide to just let go. I just stand there, watching him go.
.
"Did you even sleep?" Ryan asks me with clear concern after we spend a couple of minutes talking during one of the breaks. Dallon furrows his eyebrows as taking a better look at me and he doesn't need to say a word to make it clear he had already noticed, but avoided mentioning it.
The lack of sleep obviously contributes for my bitter mood today, thought not exclusively, helped by the events from earlier – I need a moment to answer Ryan's question, wanting to avoid sounding rude unfairly.
"Not really. I had a few problems..." I breathe, shaking my head to myself.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Dallon places a hand on my shoulder and I make my best to show the two a reassuring smile as shrugging.
"No, it's just..." I trail off. The lack of sleep and all these feelings make everything more difficult. "I'm just disappointed. Like, I was seeing someone and he just said we needed to stop with all of this without explaining me properly. He has all the right to, but I..." Trailing off again, I press my lips together in an awkward smile and hope the two understand it all without asking me more questions. "That's the main issue, actually, not all of it."
"Damn, I can imagine how it feels, I'm sorry," Dallon says comfortingly as pulling me for a quick hug. "But remember you can always come to Ryan and me to talk about anything if you need to!" He offers me a smile that doesn't fail in cheering me up, even if the slightest bit.
"Yeah! And we'll also punch whoever we might need to," Ryan adds with a wink, elbowing my side playfully; his actions snatch a chuckle from Dallon and me.
"Thank you, guys!" I smile lazily, really thankful for having these two.
Later, during my break, when Jepha and I are on our way to the store, I'm surprised by a message.
Frank:
I don't care if you're angry at me, I'm sorry. This involves much more than you think and that I would like you to know. There's also outside pressure. Even so, I am one 100% sure you're better off without me. Please, just stay away.
There's something about it all that the more Frank tries to explain everything, the angrier I get. I can understand nothing of what he says, with all these half-assed explanations. How does this involve outside pressure? Who did he tell about all of this? And how can he be so sure about this? Why tell me to stay away? Fuck, there wasn't even something serious going on between us. I mean, of course I started catching feelings because of how shaken I am now, but nothing was stated.
Everything is so confusing.
I groan angrily as shoving my phone in my pocket once we walk into the store, sighing as I march my way over to behind the counter – not jumping over it today – and throwing my bag on the ground before I collapse on one of the beanbags.
"Whoa," Bert exclaims, both him and Jepha observing me with wide eyes. "What happened?"
"Man, I'm- I'm just so fucking done!" I throw my head back, groaning.
"Continue," Jepha says, plopping down on the beanbag next to me and Bert quickly does the same.
"Like, I know this guy," I tell them, defeated, "and we were seeing each other, hanging out, a few dates and kisses, but nothing serious. We didn't want to tell anyone else about it, so it was all just for the fun and shit. Then, we were hanging out earlier today, like, three in the morning – yes, that's why I look like shit – and he suddenly just left after some hours, saying it was the last time we would hang out like that and telling me to stay away! What doesn't make sense is how his justification is just so... lame. He said there was some kind of outside pressure over us and that I'm better off without him. Man, this isn't even a serious relationship!" I groan as burying my face in my hands. I can not express how frustrated, how annoyed, how indignant I feel with this whole situation.
"Sounds like you're a bit too shaken up for something that wasn't serious," Jepha comments, raising an eyebrow at me.
"You don't understand," I whine, dragging my hands down my face before putting myself to just stare at the ceiling while the silence takes over the room. Still, I can feel their gazes on me.
"Wait," Bert speaks up, "you mean the red-haired guy that's not red haired?"
"No!" I roll my eyes, turning to look at the two. "That's Gerard, I am talking about Frank."
And there we go again. The two widen their eyes, shaking a look as they tense up and fall silent for another long moment. It continues like this until Bert stands up and moves to behind the counter, sighing. "You know what, (y/n)," he mutters, rummaging through the items in an old looking box, "I have something for you."
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