XOXO// Frank Iero

Fourteen

Kit

Wednesday

Frank's skin is wet, he's just out of the shower-in nothing but a pair of red boxers. His black hair is stringy and it droops over his face. He lifts his hand to take it out of his face.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He says, smirking at me.

I can't stop staring at him, no matter what. His shirtless body is glistening, his tattoos moving, contorting as he moves, preening, brushing his hair between his fingers and coming over to sit next to me on his bed.

"You're so beautiful, you know?" He smiles and turns to hover over me. I'm not going to even bother to try and speak, I just smile and wait for his lips to meet mine.

His green eyes are so bright, they don't even look real. I can't spot one flaw on his face, no matter how close he gets to me. His breath is fanning over my lips and I have to fight myself to stop giggling like a school girl.

He smiles at me, knowingly. He knows I'm swooning and he thinks it's funny. The sight of him in my bed is something I've thought about for weeks, and it makes my palms sweat and my cheeks turn red, and now, here he was, all mine.

"I love you, Kit."

*

I wake up, groggy and heavy, grumpy that my Frank dream was just that, a dream. My alarm clock reads 11:30 in big red writing. I had no plans before work, nowhere to be, so all I wanted to do was go back to sleep, and maybe if I did it soon enough, I could pick up where my dream left off, but with almost comical timing, my phone started to ring.

"Hey, Marlowe." I yawn. My voice sounds gritty and Marlowe could probably tell that I had just woken up.

Marlowe laughed on the other end at my sleepiness. "I'm gonna come over, is that cool?"

"Mhm. Get here soon, before I go back to sleep. I mumble, smacking my sleep-swollen lips.

She laughs and says she'll be over as soon as possible.

I groan. I can't get back to sleep now. My mind's too busy, too tangled up in Frank. I drag myself out of bed, the weight of the dream still clinging to me. Frank's face, his smile, his green eyes—they felt so real, like he was right here. But then, the moment slips away, and I'm left with nothing but the foggy remnants of a dream.

The coffee maker gurgles to life, pulling me from my thoughts. I pull on jeans and a loose shirt, my mind still spinning, but I try to shake it off. Marlowe will be here soon, and I need to distract myself.

The doorbell rings, and I practically jump out of my skin. I stumble to the door and open it to find Marlowe standing on the other side, her expression expectant.

"Hey," I say, stepping back to let her in. "Come in. I'm in a weird mood."

She raises an eyebrow, pushing past me into the apartment. "What's new? You're always in a weird mood. You look like you haven't slept."

"Yeah, well..." I trail off, looking for the right words. "I had this crazy dream. About... A boy."

Marlowe freezes. "Wait— A boy? Who?"

I blink at her. "Oh, right. You don't know him. I've never really talked about him." I chew on my lip for a second, unsure of how to explain without sounding like I'm losing my mind.

She collapses onto the couch, crossing her arms. "Well, now I'm curious. Who's this dream boy?"

I let out a breath and sit down next to her, the weight of what I'm about to say making my chest feel tight. "Okay, so Frank... he's someone I met a while back. And—honestly, I don't even know where to start. He's complicated."

Marlowe raises an eyebrow. "Complicated is an understatement. Try me."

I laugh nervously, running a hand through my hair. "Right. So, Frank is... well, he's a bit of a mess. He's got this whole bad-boy thing going on. Tattoos, always a little reckless, you know? He's the kind of guy you think you should stay away from, but for some reason, I can't. We've known each other for a while now."

Marlowe gives me a knowing look. "Uh-huh. And?"

"And—" I swallow hard, unsure of how much to reveal. "And I think I'm falling for him. Or maybe I already have. But it's not that simple, you know? He's... just... Frank. He doesn't do relationships. He's a wild card. And I have no idea if he feels the same way."

Marlowe's eyes widen a little. "Wait. So you've got a thing for him, but you don't even know if he feels the same?"

I nod, the frustration bubbling inside me. "Exactly. And the worst part? He acts like he does. He says things, makes me think maybe there's something there, but then he pulls away and... I don't know. I'm confused. He's so unpredictable."

Marlowe leans back, her eyes calculating. "Well, sounds like he's playing games. But I don't know—maybe you're making him feel something too. If you want to know, you're gonna have to confront him. Ask him. You're not gonna get anywhere sitting around wondering."

"I don't know if I can do that." The thought made my stomach drop. "What if he doesn't feel the same?"

Marlowe puts a hand on my shoulder, her voice soft but firm. "Then at least you'll know, right? You're never gonna get answers if you don't ask the questions. You deserve to know where you stand with him."

I nod slowly, chewing over her words. She's right. I can't keep this up forever, pretending like I don't care and waiting for Frank to make up his mind. If I want answers, I have to ask for them, no matter how terrifying that is.

"I'm going to talk to him," I say, a little more resolved than before. "I'm going to figure out if this is real, or if I've just been living in some fantasy."

Marlowe smiles, but it's a knowing kind of smile. "Good. And hey—if it doesn't work out, I'll be here to help you pick up the pieces." She winks. "But I have a feeling this is going to go in your favor."

And my good god, was she wrong. Well, kind of.