Our Foundations from Decay

Frank POV 50

Kristy POV
It was somewhat of a miracle that mom hadn't reported them yet, and even more of a miracle that I hadn't been dragged back home. Today had marked the 3-week anniversary of Gerard and Frank's daring escape, and I sort of wanted them to never come back.

"What?!" My boyfriend gasped when I told him my thoughts, mouth hanging open like a goldfish. "What do you mean? Don't you miss them?"

My sigh was over-exaggerated but very telling. it wasn't like I was lying, just... undermining it. The two of them were probably off somewhere having the time of their lives, singing, dancing, doing whatever lovesick people do. I didn't miss them.

I swear, I didn't miss them.

"No, I'm glad. With them gone I get you all to myself." Mikey writhed from underneath me as I tickled his waist, thrashing around in the basement's bed. The sheets suddenly shifted and we both yelped, tumbling off the mattress and onto the creaky floorboards, a groan escaping me as I landed on my boyfriend's bony-ass body.

Mikey grumbled something indecipherable, glaring up at me with such pathetic malice I couldn't help but giggle, laugher overtaking me like a possession.
His scrunched eyebrows softened for a moment and I took the chance to place a kiss on his forehead, smiling into his skin.
"Don't laugh, you fell over too." The boy muttered, wrapping an arm around my back.

I didn't respond, instead choosing to rest my head on his chest, comforted by the smell of cologne and sweat and something very Mikey. It felt like home.

My melancholy must have been obvious, because the boy below me hugged me tighter, eyebrows drawn together.
"You're lonely, aren't you?"

Mikey's sudden question took me by surprise, and I found myself not knowing how to respond. Life had always been a bit lonely; years of independence and lack of sanctum, a war that only Frank and I were fighting. It felt like us against the world.

Yet, in a planet this small, my brother was my world.

"Yeah, you're right." Crap, maybe I wouldn't have been so honest if my boyfriend wasn't looking at me with the most soul-enveloping eyes in existence. "I'm really goddamn lonely, Mikey."

I felt him nod onto my head, letting out a muffled sneeze when my hair tickled his face. God, he was such a dork.
"It's okay. They'll be back soon." The dorky boy spoke, patting me on the back like I was some kind of dog. Or a child. Maybe a dog-child?

"What are baby dogs called again?"
"Puppies, Kristy. They're called puppies."
Ah, right.
"We should get one."

There was silence for a moment, only broken by the sudden sound of Mikey scoffing.
"Gerard would absolutly murder me," He moved backwards to look at me directly, voice softening into something more subtle. More genuine . "But I'd like that."

I didn't have time to celebrate before a sharp crash was heard from upstairs, followed by an oddly feminine yelp that could only have been Ray calling out in distress.

"I swear to god if he broke one of the new plates, I'll murder him." Mikey grumbled before begrudgingly standing up, hurrying out of the basement. I listened the sound of his bare feet padding on the stairs, ears perked as the two muffled voices met each other, Ray's tone slipping into maturity like it was the simplest thing in the world.

It was easy to forget that someone like Ray was only a teenager, too. Although he was somewhat clumsy, the boy was responsible beyond his years; proven by the absolute care and devotion he'd shown the two random children that had crawled onto his doorstep a month ago.
Ray Toro was popular. He could have been out partying, socialising, or maybe even getting a girlfriend for the first time in his life. Instead, he was stuck taking up extra shifts at his crappy job in his crappy town all for the comfort of the kids in his basement.
It sounded weird when I said it like that, though.