I am not afraid

11.

I left the shower, I wimped out.

I hate myself for it now I've done it but I just got so anxious stood there watching him in the warm water, watching him soak through, the water running across his perfect skin...

For some reason, I found myself looking down again. I shouldn't have because that was what pushed me into leaving, shutting the bathroom door on the mid-shampooing Frank and sitting down on the edge of his bed with my head in my hands. I've dressed in the only clothing available to me right now, my underwear that I thankfully remembered to pick up on my way out of the bathroom and a baggy tee of Frank's that I found on the floor.

I grip my hair gently as I lean forwards, as if somehow by doing that it might prompt my brain into thinking something other than 'Frank will be upset with you'. It doesn't however, I can't get that thought out of my head no matter what I do. If I'm honest he's at the forefront of most thoughts these days, even if he's not the main subject he's always part of it. I'll see a poster for a movie that I'd like to see and subconsciously through the thought that processes how good the movie might be there's another part of my brain that's asking 'I wonder if Frank would like it'. It's small, stupid things like that, constantly infiltrating my mind.

He's in, he's so far in that I'll never get him out even if I want to and I don't know why.

It's like I've known him longer than I really have, for anyone else that would be amazing but for me it's just something else to worry about because then I'll be attached to him when inevitably something bad happens.

It's someone that can hurt me, someone that can screw me up again like Bert did. Bert...

That fucker. I know he was bad, I know he hurt me and used me and dumped me when I wasn't useful anymore. Somehow though, that's all I remember. There aren't details, all I know is he was bad. Bad enough that my brother and parents won't talk about him.

There's years of my life, or months I'm not totally sure, that are completely gone. Parts of my time existing that just aren't in my brain anymore, memories I don't have. I don't know why. I'm psychotic they say, I know I'm just not the same as everyone else but that, it doesn't account for the time I've lost. You don't lose pieces of your life by being different.

Suddenly I hear the bathroom door open and I look over, Frank walks out wearing nothing but a low riding towel around his waist and instantly I force my eyes away feeling the same warmth of a blush spread across my cheeks that I felt earlier.

Frank clears his throat "you ran away from me" he states sounding a little surprised "I've not had someone do that before, usually people can't wait to get close to me"

I can't say anything, my throat seems to tighten and my jaw locks itself in place refusing to budge.

"Am I that disappointing? Or do you not trust me?" He starts to ask "because if it's not those things then I have no idea what I've done wrong"

I shake my head and concentrate on forcing the words "it's not you" from my throat.

I hear him sigh.

"It's not you its me right? Somehow I'm inclined to believe you actually, I mean, we did meet in therapy"

No.

No we didn't. He's wrong.

"Frank, we met outside of my brothers school, I only ever saw you in the hospital, we never spoke there" I tell him quickly glancing over at him.