Saturday morning cartoons were no longer Saturday morning cartoons, I realized. Cartoons just happen whenever. They aren't given a time or place. When I was little, that shit was sacred. I was up at the earliest humanly possible hours to watch fucking Rugrats. But now, none of that was even relavent, because you could record cartoons on dvr.
That sort of reminded me how much my life has changed since then. For one, I didn't have a prescription for Prozac. Second, I didn't have any friends. There's always bad in the good, and good in the bad. Yin and Yang I guess.
My phone buzzed, and light ran through the blinds. It's to early for sunshine, I thought. I groggily picked it up. A smile fell over my face as Frank's number illuminated the screen.
"City Morgue," I answered. "Got any bones that need collecting?"
"Ha. Funny," he said."Guess what day it is."
"Saturday."
"And?"
"The twenty fourth," I smirked.
"..."
"Of June," I added, amused by Frank's annoyance.
"It's your birthday, dipshit," he said. I chuckled lightly, getting up from my bed.
"Oh, right."
"Get ready Gerard," He scolded. "I'll be over at noon."
"Okay, see ya then," I smiled.
"Bye."
"Bye."
I got up and began making coffee. I could never stay awake without it, just like I could never sleep without pills. I poured a bit of vodka into it. Might as well. It may taste awful, but who needs creamer when you've got vanilla vodka. It ran down my troat, scalding it all the way through.
An hour later, Frank showed up. He held a decent sized box in his hand, wrapped with red paper and a black bow.
"Oh Frank," I sighed. "Did I forget to mention that no one is ever allowed to get me presents, ever?"
"Shut up," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. Damn. With each and every day he was getting more and more comfortable with me. He set the box on the counter, and milled through my tiny apartment.
"So," I said, "what are we doing today?"
"Getting drunk and streaking through Blueheart church."
"Sounds like a plan," I said, snatching the box off the counter. "What's in the box, jazzypants?"
"Why don't you open it?" he suggested, mockingly.
I tore off the paper, and popped the top off the box. Inside was an old record player, and a littered collection of records. Elvis Presley, Black Sabbath, The Beatles, Nirvana, Radiohead (I didn't even know they had vinyls), Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, classic Disney, and The Rolling Stones. I was shocked, dumbstruck into speechlessness.
"Frank..." I said, holding a record in my hand.
"D-do you like it? I um-"
"Frank," I interupted, "I love it. Thank you." I put the record down, and wrapped my arms around him. Never had someone put so much thought into something like this for me. It felt strange having someone care whether or not I would like a gift or their hair or their stupid, cute laugh. He squeezed me in as well, returning my hug.
"I'm glad," he murmured, burying his head into my shoulder.
When the hug was finally over, I looked at him and asked, "Disney?"
YOU ARE READING
When We Part (on hold)
Fanfiction'He was different, right off the bat. You could just tell there was something wrong with him. His eyes were too sunken in, and glassy. He was oddly pale for the burning summer. He was too jumpy, and anxious. He was so... Strange. Normally I didn't...
