If They Don't Love You Back (COMPLETED✔️)

22

Francisco's POV

After dropping off Tiffany and Quade at his house, I take Elizabeth home.

"Can I come in?" I ask as I park in her driveway.

"Nope," she smiles before she leans in for a kiss. I lean back and shake my head. "What?" She pouts.

"If I can't come inside, you can't kiss me," I shrug.

"Okay," she scoffs before climbing out of my car and slamming the door shut.

I honk at her as she passes in front of my car and she flips me off with both hands then runs inside to her house. I pull out of her driveway and drive home.

When I get home, I see everything but the television and a few packed boxes are in the living room. My baby pictures are off the walls, the carpet is gone, the couches are gone, the television and all of my baseball equipment is inside a box by the stairs. I shut the door behind me and run upstairs to the bedrooms.

"Ma?" I call out as I open her bedroom door.

Everything in her room is gone but a small box in the center of the floor. I walk over to the light blue box and open it. There's a picture of my mother and a locket necklace shaped like a star. I open it and there's a small portrait of my mom on the left side and another one of me in my baseball gear from last year when I was in Jersey. I close it and throw it over my head and let it hang over my chest.

I take the box with me and go into my room. Everything in my room is here but there's also an additional person in here. He turns around to look at me and puts down my black glass skull.

"Hey kid," he says, taking a step closer to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I'm here to help you pack so you can move in with me," my father says as he lays his hand on my desktop.

"I thought I was only going there meanwhile my mother comes back," I say.

"She isn't coming back, Francisco," he shakes his head.

"She said she was," I feel my heart speed up, "she promised me last night after I came home from the fair."

"She's not," his eyes soften. He approaches me and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"I don't want to live with you. I want to stay here," I say, motioning around my room.

"You can't live alone," he says.

"I did before, before she came here," I remind him.

"I just can't have you living alone now," he sighs, "you have to live with me."

"I'm turning eighteen in less than a year," I shrug.

"In ten months," he clarifies.

"Either way, I want to stay here," I walk towards my bed and sit down, "you don't have to pay the bills. I'll get a job."

"You need to have a school permit to get a job because you're not eighteen yet," he says as he leans against the wall, "and I don't know if you remember but I'm the principal."

"Fuck this," I scoff, "why are you trying to make my life shitty?"

"I'm trying to help you," he says.

"Then let me get a job."

"No, you need to focus on school. Your grades aren't good, you know that right?"

"Yo!" There's a shout from downstairs. My dad stands up straight and he opens the door, to step out. "Yo, Franky!"

"Who is that?" My dad asks.

"I don't know," I shrug, not recognizing the voice.

"Franky?" The voice gets closer.

I step out of my room and see Pace, walking up the stairs in a grey hoodie and ripped jeans.

"Man, I'm yelling all over for you," he sighs, his voice a bit hoarse "what are you doing here. We're all waiting for you."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"My family," he says, "I told you to come over tonight because my mom made Tamales and Medianoche."

"Oh fuck, I totally forgot about that," I shake my head, "let me just get my jacket."

My dad steps out into the hallway and stares at Pace.

"Oh shit, Mister Griffin, what are you doing here?" Pace asks, as he stares at him.

"Pace," I call his name. He looks at me then back at my dad. His eyes widen before his jaw falls open.

"Oh!" He nearly shouts.

"Yeah," My dad and I say at the same time.

"That's freaky," Pace laughs.

"Your mother makes Medianoche?" My dad asks as I go into my room to get a jacket. I open my closet and grab the first black jacket I see. I slide it on and go back to the hallway.

"I used to have a friend that was Cuban and his mother always made them," my dad continues talking.

"I'll give Franky a plate to bring home to you," he says as he pats my back.

"Great," mister dad smiles. He turns to look at me and nods, "be home before midnight."

"I'm always home before midnight," I say.

"Great," he says again before walking past us and going down the stairs.

"I like your dad," Pace whispers.

"Yeah?" I look over at him, "I don't care."

"Bite a weenie," he pushes me.

"Add some extra mustard on that bad boy, eh?" I mock his Canadian ancestry.

"All you needed was your mother's last name," he says as we walk down the steps, "Cuando l'amico chiede, non v'è domani."

"Do you even know what that means?" I roll my eyes.

"No, what is it?" He laughs, "I heard it on television from an Italian show."

"When a friend asks, there is no tomorrow," I repeat in English.

"Do you speak fluent in Italian?" He asks.

"No," I shake my head.

"Ti odio, coglione," he smirks.

"Yeah, I hate you too, dickhead," I roll my eyes as we walk out the front door and to the car in the driveway.

***
Author's Note: yeah yeah, it's a short chapter, I'M SORRY.

- bobbiewrites x