450 Days

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"How are you doing tonight, Frank?"

I smiled at him, watching his hips sway slightly as he walked.

"I'm doing fine myself," I chuckled, taking his hand in mine. We were walking through downtown, just as all the street lights were coming on and the sun was burning out. It was nice because there were these people in this really shitty house that was stuck off to the side. Anyway, they always left their christmas lights up. Sometimes we would just stand in front of the house, looking at the lights and talking about movies or how the helicopters that flew by sometimes sort of reminded us of shooting stars. Each night with him felt new and different; the knots in my stomach only grew tighter.

"And yourself?" I asked him.

He said, "I think I'm alright."

"Oh really?"

"Well," he started, grabbing my torso and pulling me into him. "If by alright you mean 'craving every bit of you' then yes. I'm alright." He pecked kisses all over my face, leaving it ticklish and tingly.

"Gerard," I giggled, "come on Gerard."

He gave me one last peck on the lips and we continued down the sidewalk. We ended up at Gerard's favorite restaurant. It was just some old pub that housed a variety of local drunkards and cheapskates. But to Gerard it was peace away from our generation. I kind of liked it there. It was comforting, small and quiet. It felt like the way a home should feel. It felt like him.

"Just a scotch for me, Tom," Gerard said to the old man behind the counter almost as soon as we came in.

"And for your friend?" He asked in a gruff voice.

I felt my face grow red.

"Um..." I looked to Gerard for reassurance.

"He'll just get a beer," Gerard said, flashing me a wink. A smile sneakily crept over my face.

"I don't need to show an I.D.?" I whispered.

"No, no," he brushed me off. "Good old Tom here may be conservative, but he's liberal with the good stuff. Even for minors. Whatever pays the bills, my dear Frankie."

I nodded, and we sat at the bar. Tom handed me the beer, and poured Gerard's scotch. He floated it to him without another word.

"Thank you good sir," Gerard said, taking a swig. "Well, anyways Frank, I think when we get back home we should just play records and fall asleep on the couch together. I like it that way."

I smiled big, the red flashing over my cheeks again.

"I'd like that too," I said quickly, sipping the beer. Bitter, in the way I hated and loved.

"But you should see your mom first," he sighed. "Shouldn't leave her alone too long, especially at night."

"Okay," I said. "You should come with me. I think she'd like you."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well," I said, "She likes anyone I get close to. Whether it be friends it romantic conquests. She's always just happy when I am."

"My mom used to be just like that," he told me. "But then I got busted at a party once by the cops. I think I was too tipsy to run away. But they caught me and took me in. I called my mom and told her what had happened. She told me to not even bother coming back. So I just... Didn't."

"Oh Gerard," I murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he smiled, drinking again. "I don't really think much of my family anymore."

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