Just Roommates

Party Hardy, Alone in a Corner

     The sky was bright, the city was bustling, and I looked like a homeless man who wondered his way into the building. It was the one day of the week were Frank and I both had the day off, so we became one with the couch, naturally. Cartoon Network ran in the background while Frank played on his phone and I drew him. I convinced myself drawing him without his knowledge wasn't creepy, because we were roommates and roommates are allowed to know what each other looked like. Capturing every detail of his face in pencil lead wasn't my intention; I was simply using him as a reference, or at least that's what I told myself. When I looked up again to get the correct proportions of his arched brows he was staring dumbly at me. I stared back, trying to get something out of his blank facial expression. It quickly came to my attention that he had zoned out in thought. I waved my hand, hoping the sight of movement would get him back down to earth. Success. He blinked a few times then blushed slightly and looked down.
    In a desperate attempt to break the ice, Frank spoke, "Whatcha drawing?"
    Oh, fuck. Panic rose inside of my and I blurted the first thing that came to my mind, "Detailed dicks."
    "Let me see," Frank demanded, to my dismay. He got off the couch and looked over my shoulder in one swift motion. "Are you calling me a dick?"
    "No," there really was no holding onto my lie at this point, "I just didn't want to seem creepy."
    "I don't mind. It's fucking amazing, anyways."
     "Thanks."
    He strolled over to the kitchenette talking and walking efficiently, "I was invited to this party," he stopped to scoop old mac and cheese into the trash, pausing, and sticking a joint in his mouth. He continued, talking out the side of his mouth, "And I barely know anyone who's coming. So, I was wondering if you'd be willing to come with me."
Oh, god. Parties. My mortal enemy. I can't remember the last time I actually enjoyed a party, unless you count the four person sleepover I threw when I was 15. But, I need to meet people. I can't count on being a hermit for the rest of my life. Plus, Frank will be there; what's the worse that can happen? "Sure."
"Nice. It's later tonight, if that's not a problem."
☆☆☆
     The party started at 6:00. Frank's cousin was turning 35, and everyone there was at last 10 years our senior. It wasn't crowded and there was plenty of food, so I felt like I wouldn't do terribly. It was an 80's themed party. I dressed up as Robert Smith and Frank was Billy Idol. The music was exactly what you'd expect from an 80's themed party, music from the 80's. A karaoke machine was placed in the middle of the living room so the majority of the time it was hit's from the era in the back, a singing goat in the front. In no way was it a grandiose event. But, in no way was it comparable to the pandemonium our peers would organize.
    People danced, people sung, people laughed, and Frank and I chatted in the corner about their odd choice of scented candles. I think Frank may have wanted to talk to other people, but I didn't and he wanted to make sure I was okay.
    At about 7:30 someone shouted at Frank from across the room, "Hey, Billy! White Wedding's on the machine, you wanna give us a show?"
    "Of course, man!" Frank threw up his arms and walked over to the karaoke machine. I decided to follow him to the couch, curious as how he would preform. Frank began, quite, "Hey, little sister..." He wasn't the best vocalist in the world. But, his timing and dynamics were correct. He pronounced things clearly and nothing was slurred. He was actually pretty good.
    Frank marched over to me, triumphantly. I opened my mouth for a chance to congratulate him. However, I was interrupted by someone unknown grabbing Frank's tight, little ass. "Hey-O, Frankie. Where have you been?"
     Frank wrapped his arm around him and got close to his chest, "I didn't expect to see you around here!" They looked close. Frank should have told me about his boyfriend. Why didn't he tell me about his boyfriend? We're close, right? I felt oddly sick to me stomach. There was no chance I couldn't have stuck around to see Frank and this man like this. I decided that going to have a smoke was the best course of action.
     Why the fuck was I so disgusted by that? I have had gay friends in high school and I never cared how gay they were acting, as long as they didn't make me a part of it. Hell, David and Ben would always invite me along so their parents would not gain suspicion, and then blow each other two seats away from me when we watched movies; but I was never as disgusted with that as I was when I saw Frank and that mystery man. I felt like I was going to fucking puke.
     I exhaled, smoke escaping my lips when I heard Frank call out for me. "Gerard!" Calm down, I thought. I could not let Frank see me this way, ever. "Why did you storm off?"
     I refused to turn around, my face still portrayed my anger. "Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?"
     "Are you talking about Bert?"
     "Is that his name?" My voice was quite, but my pronunciation was sharp. It pierced the air.
     "Nah man, he's just some pervy faggot."
     "Are you not gay, as well?" I faced him. All hopes of hiding my emotions were lost.
     "Yeah, but he gives me the creeps. No one would feel attraction to someone who keeps molesting them," Frank never lost his head. He stayed calm despite my anger.
     "Please, don't talk to him any more."
     "I didn't plan on it." Frank leaned against the wall, pulling out a joint. "I guess it's true what they say, straight boys are hella possessive.