In Line of Fire

Three {Frenchie}

Of all the things 
I can do 
on this earth, 
I just want to build
a bride 
from my heart to yours.

-Alexandra Vasiliu 

KALES POINT OF VIEW (Glasses Boy)

"Him." Dax pointed to a guy in all black, smoking a fag and chatting with his friend. "That's a homosexual if I've ever seen one."

Sighing, I roll my eyes at him. He's been trying for weeks, ever since he found out I was into men, to find someone 'perfect' for me. "No. Too emo. And stop, please. I just want to be single," I say, pushing my glasses up. "less emotional attachment." 

I was lying. Duh. I mean unless you just got out of a bad breakup, who wanted to be single? No one, exactly. And I've never dated a guy before-- but I have dated girls though. Jenny, Ebony, and Lily. All of my last girlfriends. And the bad thing is, Lily and Ebony were sisters.

All horrid choices in girls, Ebony being my best friend, Jenny being a total thot and Lily, well... We're not going to talk about Lily. "Oh! What about him!" He pointed to a guy-- no that was definitely a girl, the sides of her head shaved off and she was clad in baggy pants and a sweatshirt. 

"That's a girl--" Feeling eyes on me I looked up, making eye contact with those wide hazel eyes, light waves of hair covering up a majority of his face. He was peaking through a window in the old art studio Dax was soon to call home. Before I knew it he dived downwards, and it took me a minute to realize I was holding my breath. "Him," Was all I could huff out.

Dax cocked an eyebrow at me, "What? You like him?" He spoke, still referring to the female. "Didn't know you were into Twinks. But at long as he's a guy I guess it doesn't matter--" 

I grab his arm, yanking him along behind me. He began talking but I stopped him, "I found him. And he's in your new house." 

I'm sure that left him even more confused, but I ignored it as I pushed the skate park's fence open and took a sharp turn around the buildings edge. "Kale! Where are we going?!" 

A minute later we took another sharp turn and I took a second to get my breath. "See?" I huffed, pointing to the skinny boy shimmying down the fire escapes ladder. Dax took a step forward, pulling on his serious face while I was left behind, still trying to gain my breath.

A smirk inched itself onto Dax's face when the boy plopped onto the ground, sighing in relief. "Nice shoes." Jealousy spiked, even though I didn't know the skinny boy. I wanted to be the first to talk to him, the first to acknowledge him of us two. 

He turns his head, looking Dax up and down first, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. My heart ached at the cutie, and I eagerly checked him out as he did me. Baggy Billie Eilish sweatshirt, matching ankle rising jeans and mustard yellow converse. His hair was messy, definitely bedhead. I wondered for a second if he slept up there, but doubted it at his clean appearance.

He began to speak, his voice coming out a little shakey at first, probably in fear. "Thanks. Well, I better get going now, it was nice to meet you two--" He began walking towards me and I could feel my heart beating painfully in my chest. It was only when I realized he was leaving that I grabbed the back of his hoodie, sure to be gentle when I pulled him back. 

"Hold up, shorty. We got something to talk about. About you breaking and entering into my new place," At Dax's words, he looked astounded. His cute lips seperated and his face went paper white.

The only thing he could manage was a loud, "S'cuse me?" He seemed to calm down after that, and my eyes began sinking to his exposed collar bone, scanning his pale neck in delight. It was only when I was greeted by a small, swollen mark peaking from the front of his sweatshirt that I completely blocked out what he was saying as my mind ravaged the idea of anyone else touching him.

I felt disgusted with myself, getting so angry about anyone touching a stranger. But then again, look at him. He was gorgeous in every sense and I just knew I wanted him to be mine. "--lock me up for standing in an alley way?"

Something sparked in me, a defensive side in me hating that he was trespassing, but also a majority of me just wanting to talk to him. To let him know I heard him. "Two witnesses, and I'm sure there's something in there signifying that you were there," I remarked, keeping a pokerface on. 

Almost instantly his face dropped, and I wondered what he could have left in there that made his whole act drop. He laughed sadly and I gulped, slightly regretting speaking to him like that. "I'm so sorry. I honestly thought no one owned it, since it was abandoned a while back. It's a nice place to calm down, y'know? To just relax."

Oh trust me, if anyone knew about the magic in that old, crumbly art studio, it was Dax and me. His mother owned it, and we'd spend every weekend there. We unfolded this old couch, his mother letting us paint all over it. His mother gave us art lessons, of course me always being the one left behind. Dax was an artist at heart, through and through.

"Why do you think it's mine now?" Dax spoke, the smile on his face contagious. I had to fight mine, trying to keep my poker face on. "But you still broke in, even though you could get in trouble for it, so, sorry." 

I knew the sirens getting closer would frighten him, even though they weren't heading towards us. Of course we didn't call the cops on him, there was no time. And I didn't have the thought process for it, just wanting to see him up close. 

"Please! I can't go to jail. I have no family near by that can bail me out and all my friends can't afford that!" He stopped, his face wrapped in sadness. "Please, just tell them I ran away. I can't get arrested." 

All I saw was Dax shaking his head before a look of determination crossed the strange boys face before he ran. He shoved past Dax and I acted on pure instict. I pulled of my glasses, shoving them in Dax's hands who stood there dumbfounded. 

The stranger, who for now I'm declaring Frenchie (Because his lips look so frenchable), turned a corner, and I found my legs pounding after him. He was surprisingly fast, his short legs moving speedily. 

He peaked around, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. Why was I chasing him? I just-- why was I chasing him!?

I didn't stop though, watching as he stared off toward the road. He was planning on crossing, and I had to get him before then. He was getting slower, and I could hear his breath getting heavier. Suddenly he skidded to a stop, catching himself before shoving past a hotdog stand and off the safety of the sidewalk. 

My heart lurched in my chest as he sprinted in front of an 18 wheeler, just barely missing the beeping truck. Once it passed I cursed to myself, upset that I almost let him get hit by a truck. He stopped across the busy street, catching his breath. When he finally inhaled, he stood up straight, smirked, then Frenchie raised his finger in the air. "Bye, bye, shitface!" 

And with that, my frenchie jogged away. 

Would I ever see those frenchable lips again?