Cabin of Bad Dreams and Towel Scenes

.six.

He was staring at me intensely. I felt that if he were to stare harder, my mind would explode. I wondered if he did the same thing I did. Stare at something for a bit, thinking you can move it with your mind, and then go about your business. I would've assumed so, but he stared at me with some other emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on.

He broke his stare and stood up, making his way to the door, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Fort Iero." He shrugged, disappearing outside.

I ran over to the door and opened it, "Want me to come with?"

He didn't answer.

I dashed outside, tripping over myself, putting on my shoes as I followed him. I caught sight of him at one point, running to catch up. I stood by a tree and watched him enter the fort, open a window, and pull out a package of cigarettes.

To say I gave into my temptations was an understatement. I knocked on the door, grinning and he smirked, pushing a chair up against the door. I frowned.

"Come on, Gerard!" I said through the window.

He lit one and blew smoke at me, "Is this what you want?"

"Fuck, yes." I practically moaned.

He blushed, but remained, "Found these in the back of your closet. Probably a few years old at the least. Were you a teenage rebel?"

"Just give me my fucking smokes, Way. I will eviscerate you."

"I'd like to see you try, honey."

Where had all of this douche baggy confidence come from? I was going to put that fucker back in his place. I'm all nice and stuff but no one steals my cigs. No one.

It was then I remembered the door had a window on it that could open from the outside. I smirked and he asked where I was going. I opened the window and watched Gerard's eyes go wide. He knew what was coming. I pushed the chair away from the door and stepped inside, ready to kick some pale ass.

He looked like a cornered puppy with a cigarette between his long pale fingers. I smirked and held out my hand. He just gulped and glanced away for a second. I saw the lump of the box in his jacket pocket. I kept eye contact as I dug through his pocket to get my lighter and smokes. He turned a bright shade of red.

I got up close and personal, "No one steals my smokes, boy. Don't pull a stunt like that again, okay?"

He nodded, obviously scared. I laughed and he blinked. I sat on the dog bed and leaned back, lighting a cigarette between my lips and taking a long and deserved drag from it. He watched me in silence. Eventually he went back to the one between his fingers, crossing his legs and staring out the window.

"Fuck, I needed this." I sighed.

He was staring at me again, "I'm recording you."

"Yeah?"

"I like the way you smoke."

I blinked, blushing a little, "Oh?"

"The way you do it makes it seem like a sexual thing, when in reality it's the most normal thing in the world. I just can't put my finger on why, though." He sighed, "No matter how much I record you or try to figure you out, I just can't."

"I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?"

"Yes!" I started, taking a drag, "I mean, it feels like fate that of all people it was you that was taking shelter in my cabin. And just the way you act. Like you're so shy except when you're being an ass, but asshole you is nice, too. And how I feel around you is definitely a thing I can't figure out."

"Yeah?" He said leaning in closer.

"I feel like a 14 year old again with a very close friend. Like I didn't really ever 'play' with people before. And even though I'm not a kid anymore, it feels good. Like our pillow fights, ukulele, the fort, and sliding around on the hardwood floors..." my cheeks were pink by now, "I feel like I'm getting the childhood I've always wanted in my twenties."

He laughed at that but then went serious, "Does that mean you found yourself?"

"No." I exhaled, blowing smoke, "I just found you."

"You can use me," he paused, saw my expression, and then went on, "To find yourself, that is."

I thought for a moment, chuckling slightly, "And how would you do that?"

"I don't know, but if you ever get an idea, I'll let you use me." I looked at him and he hit my arm, "Not like that..."

I just looked down.

"Unless...?"

"Forget it, Gerard. It's nothing." I sighed, putting my cigarette out, throwing it out the window.

"It's something." He got up and sat next to me.

"When you find yourself, do you question things? Do you sing? Do you laugh? Do you feel young? Do you fall in love? Do you dream? Do you hold yourself? Or hold someone else? Do you cry?" These questions burned my eyes.

"Frank, what are you-" he stopped, "Oh. You want me to answer these?"

"Try."

"When I found myself, I was a wreck. I was maybe 19. I felt free and happy and just full of so much emotion. I couldn't wrap my fingers around reality. I held myself a lot and I cried. But they were mostly happy tears. The sad ones came with sad memories or moments. Falling in love...? Yeah. But I didn't. I fell in love with who I was. I held some people, but it was just someone that I picked up from a bad situation. I was a hero. I thought I was anyway..."

His shoulder was pressed against mine, "What would you do if I asked you to hold me?"

He smiled, turning red, "I'd do it."

"I found a way I can use you. Hold me." The words just kept coming.

He wrapped his arms around me and I melted, so tired. His arms felt like home and I took in a deep breath. He petted my head gently. He was a pro at this whole holding people thing and I loved every second of close contact.

I think I was in love with him.