Frank's birthday came and went- he refused to do anything special for it. In the end I finally convinced him to come to my house for the weekend and to let my mom make him a cake. He understood that I couldn't afford a present at the moment... And I understood that I would still buy him one, anyways.
"You haven't taken that thing off since I gave it to you," I observed, almost a month after his birthday. (It was late November already- we had stopped leaving the house without our jackets, and I had started drinking a peppermint mocha every day in replacement of one of my cupsof coffee in honor of the holidays. Frank was slightly more in the holiday mood than I was, though.)
He just grinned, tugging the end of the sleeve of the dark green cardigan so that it stuck out beneath his grey sweatshirt's sleeve. "I have! You know that. I washed it at your house last time I was over, remember?"
I laughed. "Frank, you complained about being cold the entire time, and then stole my favorite sweater until the cardigan was out of the dryer, and then you stole every blanket off of my bed and sat in a grumpy heap on the floor."
"And then I made you make me hot chocolate," he grinned.
I nodded. "And you also forced me to turn the heating up by like five degrees... So, yes, I do remember," I rolled my eyes, sticking my hands in my pockets as we walked.
"Speaking of which, did you want that sweater back? It's somewhere in my room but it might take a while to find it..."
I blinked at him. "Wait, you still have it? I've been looking for it all week!"
"Well, you should have just asked! Half of everything you own that goes missing is in my house, anyways."
I almost laughed, but he was right. Since we had become friends I'd lost track of what in my room belonged to him and what belonged to me, and he'd borrowed so many different pairs of clothes that half of my closet is probably missing.
I think he was wearing my jeans at this very moment, actually. I glanced down, trying to figure out if they were or not. I'd practiclly given him all of my old clothes- every pair of jeans that were too small for me that I'd been meaning to give away git him pretty well.
"Are those mine or yours?" I asked.
He shrugged, looking down, too. "I have no idea."
I laughed. "What would you do if one day you woke up and I had taken back all of the clothes that belonged to me?"
He shrugged, laughing, too. "I probably wouldn't have anything to wear. The only laundry I've done lately was washing stuff at your house when you force me to help you."
I just shook my head, not sure if it was at him or at myself. I've been seriously considering just sending a stack of clothes home with him, one day. He was constantly stealing mine- one minute he'd have his shirt on, and then I would leave the room and come back to find him wearing one of mine. He claimed that mine were softer. He also liked clothes that were too big for him, anyway, I had found. He didn't like wearing my old shirts as much as he liked the ones that fit me now.
"It's hard to believe that Thanksgiving is tomorrow," I sighed, pushing the thought away.
"Ugh, I know, right? Christmas is sneaking up too fast..."
"Christmas? I was thinking more like, 'fall is going away too fast.'"
Frank just shrugged, glancing around. "I don't know. I kind of prefer winter over fall."
"But your birthday is in fall!"
He rolled his eyes, bumping my shoulder with his. "You know I hate my birthday."
