Waking up was one of those things that everybody does but not everybody likes. Some people, like Freddy, mostly dislike waking up because it means that they are not dead yet. Some people enjoy waking up when they have things to live for. And sometimes, there are times when you can find yourself somewhere in-between.

In-betweens were usually worse. They meant that you couldn't fit into a normal, that you were stuck between two worlds. For example, some people wake up with somebody in their own bedroom. Some people with up with somebody in the other person's bedroom.

Some people wake up alone in another person's bedroom. In-between.

Freddy was fortunate. At least his sleeping partner had been kind enough to leave him a note to explain his raging headache and groggy senses and, most importantly, why he was on top of Zack's bed.

fred-d:

u were drunk & hi so u crashed here. dont worry. nutin happned w/ us. i kno ur str8. i'm eatin w/ the parents. ill bring u sum. they dun kno ur here.

-zak attak

Freddy had to smile at the familiar handwriting, the familiar childhood nicknames they had given each other a few years before but what seemed like a lifetime ago, and the familiar smell of… everything. It made being in-between seem easier.

Of course, sometimes in-between wasn't so bad. Like when you are in-between a person and a wall. Or a bed. Or the floor. Or a pool table.

Freddy guessed he knew the answer to "is sex all you think about?"

He had done a lot of thinking lately, which was new for him. But he guessed he had a lot to think about, obviously. But he didn't just think about that. He thought about The Band.

The Band had given him a lot of things, if he really stopped to think about it. It had given him a purpose and a drive in life, some kind of a goal. It had given him ambition. Hell, it had given him throngs of girls chasing after him. (When you went to private schools, it wasn't as though you found a whole lot of blonde punk-rock drummers.)

Most of all, though, it had given him friends. Friends. At where he had been in life, friends were something you had if you were geeky enough to latch on to somebody. It wasn't as though he didn't want friends. It was just much safer to hang out with the people who could help him than the people he wanted to be with.

Being in the band had given him people to depend on, people to trust, people to really love. Even Lawrence ended up being funny when he broke out of his shell, and had given himself and Zack a "Project." Freddy smiled as he thought about the "Sessions" they had had with the keyboardist, trying to show him the true beauty of rock. He knew that, in the end, Lawrence would always be a bitch to the classics, but he wasn't really such a geek sometimes.

Summer was such a bitch. Freddy couldn't think about any other way to put it. She was a downright bitch. Of course, through the band's first late-night drinking party in the seventh grade they had learned a lot of things about Summer, particularly that she could really loosen up if given the right ingredients. Since then she had become easier to get along with, of course. Plus, it was nice to have somebody do all the dirty work of setting up band practices and shit like that. Freddy sure as hell wouldn't have been able to do it.

Katie had turned into a total hottie. There was no way around it. With the long legs and dark hair and full lips, she was the epitome of sex on a stick. He would do her. Of course, she was also completely annoying and too commanding for his tastes. And that pursed look she did – ugh! He couldn't stand it sometimes, and he had no qualms against telling her so. He had suffered many playful bruises at her hands. They were friends, and that was it, and that was all there would ever be. They were extremely comfortable with each other and could flirt and fight and do whatever the hell they wanted. She had once fallen asleep against him on one of those late, late drives back to their houses after a concert. And he was perfectly fine with that.

Of course, The Band especially meant Zack. He had never known how cool that boy could be once he started talking. He was hilarious. He was smart. He was very adventurous; nobody else would have dared to escape downstairs for a midnight snack after his parents had turned on the alarm system but Zack. And when he got back and Freddy told him what an idiot he was, Zack had just plainly said that he had done it for Freddy. He was just like that.

Freddy smiled, thinking about all of the late-night conversations they had ever had, all of the sleep-overs. They rarely slept and usually stayed up all night laughing and talking like a pair of girls. They would watch movies and comment on how hot so-and-so was when they got older, but then they found as they got older that it became less and less comfortable sleeping over at the other's house. After all, they didn't want people to think they were a bunch of fags.

That was around when Dewey decided that he had to leave The Band for the good of The Band. He was getting older, wiser, and needed to leave. Besides, they were at the point where they could take care of themselves. Freddy guessed it was true, but he was sure that that marked the point in his life where things started going downhill. When The Band seemed to be falling apart, he went right along with it, getting into the habit of boozing and fucking late into the night and living out his old "rock star dream." There were less and less phone conversations with Zack and more and more parties with girls with no faces.

The whole of The Band started getting more and more estranged from him. He started making fun of the whole thing more than he did like it. Sometimes he regretted the decision himself and Zack had made in the seventh grade that, come High School, they were going to a public school. Freddy would never, ever know how they had finally convinced their parents that it was a good idea. Probably about "life experiences" or some shit they had come up with. It was a good idea at the time. They could hang out together, meet new friends, have a fun time, etc. Naïve ideas, all of them. Freddy knew the reality of it all now, and he wanted to shove Zack back into a private school. At public high school everyone laughed at Zack for his very fitted, black t-shirts, messy hair, and his loner status. They all said he dressed like a fag so he must be a fag.

Freddy thought he looked cool.

Last night was the first time in almost two years that he had spent the night with Zack. He wasn't even sure why he was there, but he knew that, even though he would have to hide if Zack's parents showed up, he felt so completely safe there. There there was no booze, no drugs, no people to push him to do things he knew were wrong but felt so good.

Of course, it wasn't like his secret plan of jumping on Zack and making out with him for hours and hours was such a "right" thing to do. It felt right. It felt great. But that didn't mean he could shake off a lifetime's teachings of the horrors of being gay. It meant you acted like a girl. It meant you couldn't hang out with guys. It means you would get AIDS. It means nobody would ever talk to you again.

But then, it meant Zack.

Freddy was confused. Confused and tired and his head hurt and his whole body ached and his mind was so fuzzy it was hard to think anymore. All he wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep and dream of messy-haired, skinny boys with long fingers.

It was enough that when said boy walked into the room, Freddy was certain it was a dream. Which is probably why he got up off of the bed, walked over to the boy who was mumbling about something or another and taking the bootleg waffle from his jeans pocket, grabbed his face and kissed him, hard.

The waffle dropped to the ground in surprise, and shaky hands moved to encircle Freddy's waist. Freddy grinned and playfully licked at Zack's bottom lip. The other boy groaned and opened his mouth and the two busily set to exploring, knowing they had some time. Freddy's hands fisted in dark hair as he felt another pair of hands begin their search up Freddy's shirt. He groaned and pushed closer to the other body at the hot contact of fingernails lightly scraping at his back. The long fingers fisted around the bottoms of Freddy's red t-shirt and began lifting it.

"Up," Zack breathed, pulling away for the few seconds it took him to discard the shirt. He kissed Freddy once again, quickly, before pulling back to look at the newly uncovered plane of skin. His eyes looked wild, feral, pleased, and Freddy felt himself flush with pride rather than embarrassment. Freddy suddenly felt himself pulled backwards by his belt-loops and all at once they had flopped together on Zack's bed, their mouths on each other once again as their hands explored.

Every moment with Zack was a new experience, Freddy decided. After all, if anybody had told him even a week ago that he would be making out with any guy, much less Zack, by the weekend, he would have punched their lights out and laughed at him.

He definitely wasn't laughing now, not with a hot, wet mouth working its way down his neck and onto his collarbone, kissing and licking and sucking, hard, and oh, God, teeth and so good.

"I've wanted you for ever," Zack gasped, and the hands in his hair tightened. "I never thought you could feel the same way."

Freddy only grunted in response, pushing his hips upward.

Zack laughed and crawled back up, kissing Freddy once more. "I thought you weren't gay," he teased when he pulled back, his hands working lazy symbols into Freddy's chest.

"I'm not," Freddy remarked as he went in for another kiss. All of a sudden, it was over, and instead of wild, feral, darkdark eyes there were angry, hurt looking eyes.

"Well if you're not gay then what the hell are we doing."

"Making out."

"But you aren't gay."

"Nope." Freddy has propped himself up on one elbow, quickly becoming annoyed with these questions.

"I'm not going to be your 'experiment.'"

"You're not."

"Then what am I?"

"Really, really hot?"

Zack scoffed and left the bed. He bent down and retrieved the red pile of fabric from where it was tossed over his lamp and threw it at Freddy. "There."

"What'd I do?"

Zack twirled around and gave Freddy The Death Glare of Doom Freddy was all-too familiar with.

"I'm not going to be with a boy who's lying to himself."

"I'm not lying! I'm not gay!" Freddy squeaked, throwing his hands up in the air. He was hungry and tired and his head hurt and he didn't understand what the fucking problem was.

"Well then what the fuck are you?"

Hungry. Tired. Tired of lying to my parents. Tired of drinking. Tired of being stupid. Tired of you always giving me the look like you miss me but you're so mad you can not talk. Bored with this conversation. Somebody who likes you, a lot, enough to make out with you on your bed which is kind of a big thing since I'm not gay and all. Only a little bit gay, but just for you. Somebody with a headache. Tired.

"I don't know," however, was what came out of his mouth. Zack scoffed and looked away. When he turned back, Freddy was shocked to discover that those darkdark, hurt eyes were a lot more shiny than they should ever be.

"Out."

Freddy bit his lip and drummed his fingers against his knee for a few moments, just looking at the other boy.

"Za-"

"Out."

Freddy look up and glared, anger rising in his chest. "Zack, that's not fai-"

"Fair? You want to talk fair? Is it fair that I'm gay? I didn't ask for it! Is it fair that my dad hates me? Is it fair that the whole fucking school hates me? Is it fair that the band, which is the only thing holding me together, is falling apart? Is it fair that the one guy I have liked for years and years isn't gay? And that he teases me and kisses me and is so fucking perfect but he is not gay?" Freddy stared, his eyes wide. Zack's eyes were crackling and his hands were fisted, hot tears streaming down his face. He paused, pushing the hair out of his face, and looked down. By the time he found his voice, it was just a whisper. "Don't talk to me about fair. Just. Get. Out."

Freddy looked down, climbed off of the bed, grabbed the rope that was still assembled from what he could only have guessed was his late-night break into the house and left without another word.

You really fucked up this time, Freddy, you idiot.