The Waiter.

Frank sat in the wooden chair, unamused by the shake caused by the uneven legs, with a glass bottle of coke in one hand and his phone in the other.

Tonight, he was dragged out of the house to go for dinner, celebrating the engagement of his mother and her now fiancé. Needless to say, Frank didn't like him. Frank's father lived a few towns over, and Frank wished he did too. He missed the days when his father would walk him through the park. The days when his parents were together and everything was better. Frank would even go as far to say it was when he was happy.

Frank couldn't think of very many reasons to be happy these days. Sure, he was excited about seeing his favourite bands at a festival in a few months, and getting his new guitar. Those were all material things, and as thankful Frank was for them, they didn't change the truth.

Frank was a misunderstood boy, who just wanted someone to see him for him and not how he looked, and wanted to make an impact on the world. His appearance wasn't something that appealed to all, but it made him feel more comfortable. His newly styled hair made him feel confident and he loved his piercings.

At the moment, his mother and that man he refused to accept as his almost step father, were in the kids play section of the restaurant, entertaining that man's child. Their empty plates were neatly awaiting to be taken by a waiter, and Frank was making the most of the peace he had before he had to endure being in the car ride home.

All through their meal, Frank was perplexed by one of the waiters. he was taller than Frank, which wasn't something very hard to be, and was wearing black dress pants with a matching button up shirt, accompanied by a simple, crimson tie. His hair was down to his shoulders and was dyed black. Frank found him perfect. He would even go to say, pretty.

Frank had been watching the man and his movements. How he gave every customer a smile as he presented them with their meals or collected plates. He was hypnotised by how happy this man looked with his job, and how he seemed to genuinely enjoy it. In Frank's eyes, he was adorable. Frank went back to scrolling through Instagram when he suddenly noticed the presence of another person beside him.

"Sir, are you finished with your meal?" It was him, the enthusiastic waiter with his dorky smile and hopeless hair.

"Y-Yeah, thank you" Frank managed to speak. He met the strangers eyes, trying his best to get a good look at him without being rude or suspicious. He read his name badge. Gerard. A name much suited to the face.

Gerard's eyes were something extraordinary. Frank couldn't help but notice how beautiful they were, much like this stranger now that he got a better look. Frank watched his fluent movements of carefully stacking the plates on his arms. Frank could never be a waiter. On Gerard's way back to the kitchen, Frank couldn't help but notice the sway in his hips. 'Damn', Frank though to himself. Images of Gerard flashed through his mind, and he had to stop himself for thinking incase he created a problem for himself. He did not need that right now.

The bottle of coke Frank had been sipping on for the last hour went straight to his bladder, so he quietly got up from his chair, told his mother he would be back, and located the bathroom.