Don't give up on the wanting.
Chapter 4
"It's in the water baby,
it's in the pills that pick you upIt's in the water baby,
it's in the special way we fuck."
School was ended. I sat on the bus, slouched forward, transfixed on my twiddling thumbs. I could hear Mikey and Frank sitting behind me, talking to each other about Mikey's crush. Another subject poor Mikey didn't impress Frank with. I didn't bother to listen much to find out who the crush actually was, little Mikes wasn't good at hiding his feelings towards a girl, let alone anyone. I continued to watch my thumbs as I like a puppet master, made them dance. They were The Joker and Harley Quinn, fierce against each other, every minute thinking of yet another way they could end the lustful lover they had - an 'accidental' cigarette fire, a simple bullet to the head, yet as they fell harder into each other - with even more angst, they still had that throbbing sensation of want. Want that they didn't want to give up on. It was a painful, passionate love. It was a passionate hate. I snapped from my trance, shutting away my soaring imagination. I turned to my brother and rent-a-friend.
"Hey, so - I was talking to Ray today," I directed to Mikey, who I knew was meaning to catch up with the curly-haired boy.
"What was he saying?" Mikey asked, seeming particularly interested and I'm sure I caught a hint of relief.
"Oh nothing really, I was just talking to him about Frank," I said, "He said he might turn out to be a pretty cool guy," my head rotated to Frank so I was looking straight at him when the smug laugh escaped my lips.
"Hey, Gerard, stop being so mean," Mikey complained, "Stop being such an ass, even. Cut him some slack, ey?" Mikey tried.
"Cut him slack?" I repeated, outraged, "This 'cool guy' stole my fags this morning," I informed, crossing my arms huffily and giving a harsh stare at the culprit. Mikey looked over at him, a look of shock, a look of shock that quickly turned into one of amusement.
"He did?" Mikey asked with a smile.
"Yeah," I huffed, failing to put Mikey off Frank but instead succeeding to make him grow fonder.
"I didn't steal them, Gerard," Frank spoke now, "I simply saw you forgot them so brought them for you, settle down, Gee," Oh god. No he didn't.
"Where did you hear that name?" I asked quickly, diverting from the fag argument.
"I didn't hear it," he looked genuinely confused, "I thought of it just there," he gave a coy smile. I looked at him for a moment, not arguing - I didn't want to. I just looked over at him - studying his features which now worked perfectly together to simulate an expression of confusion. I shook my head slowly.
"You couldn't of," I protested, looking over at Mikey who seemed to be finding this very awkward all of a sudden.
"Yeah, I did, why are you so worked up about the name anyway?" Frank asked before he quickly added on another, much more anticipated, question, "Oh! You got some little girlfriend who already calls you it, ey pretty boy?" Pretty boy. That was definitely a signal that he had spoken to Lindsey, a signal that his own pretty little face didn't seem to have a clue about. I saw his body shuffling forward slightly, his arm extending and I jumped away startled as his hand met against my own bare skin. That felt weird. Not like when Lindsey decided to burst my personal bubble that I had so many times tried to remind her of keeping a clear distance from - apparently keeping distance isn't an option when trying to seduce a mysterious young man such as myself. It felt tingly. I looked up at him, he seemed just as startled as I did.
"You wearing a buzzer?" I asked, staring down at my hand looking for some type of burn mark. Nothing. Frank looked even more ruffled now, I could hint agitation in his voice when he spoke;
"Gerard, you're acting weird, dude, if you're trying to mess with me - I couldn't care less, I tried to help."
A few days pass. Nothing particularly interesting has occurred except mum, dad and Frank's parents leaving. We all exchanged unenthusiastic hugs as they gushed over how they would miss us oh-so-dearly, then joked to themselves - as adults do, about how they wouldn't really and couldn't wait until they finally got to relax and enjoy the scenery of beautiful hills, rivers and eat delicious, perfected food instead of their daily tour of dirty clothes, shredded magazines and three courses that they had spent all day preparing just to enjoy at least five minutes of. Then they where off, Mikey, Frank and myself staring outside the window, watching their excited waves - our glum responses never seemed to dampen their mood
Frank and the invisible buzzer incident has been gnawing away at my head each and every day that has flown past. I started to think that it was maybe just that weird feeling you sometimes get when someone you like touches you or when someone unfamiliar accidentally brushes against your skin, I'll go for the latter, Frank with his rebellious, enigmatic ways made him very difficult to completely figure out yet he seemed so familiar that my choice seemed to sway back and forth. I couldn't like Frank. That's insane. He's pretty, alright but it's an irritating pretty - like a strawberry-filled dessert that is just too sweet. Additional to that, I'm not even into boys - sure, I can quite honestly admire the ass of a passer-by who's masculine features just beg me for an opinion.
Oh god.
It's Friday.
Bang. The sound of bottles hitting the top of the kitchen counters.
Clash. The sound of the growing quantity of alcohol's glass containers chiming against each other, forming a seducing ring.
Eek! The sound of Mikey when he waltzes in with Frank closely behind him and catches sight of myself heaving the bottles from various drawers and cupboards which I ignore once opened, so now almost three quarters of their contents gone - It appears as though they have been raided by some craving lunatic. A judgment made by someone who could be very right.
"What the hell are you doing, Gerard?" he squawks.
"What does It look like?" I ask, scanning the labels of all the alcohol I'd managed to pry from the abyss that is my kitchen cupboards.
"It looks like you're having a little fun there, Gee," Frank pipes up, his voice managing to startle me once again.
"Yup, keeping the noises away, letting loose, chillin', killin' - that type of stuff," I said, grabbing a bottle of Margaritas.
"Time to take the nice stuff while I can still remember the flavour," I joke, screwing the lid off the bottle, throwing it aside and taking five consecutive gulps of the pale liquid.
I slide it across the counter toward the two.
I give a laugh at Mikey's face and grab another bottle in my hands, this time one containing the bitter refreshment that is Vodka. Mikey looks at me with displeasing eyes, his common anxiety seeping through. Frank, however, is quite happily chugging down what remained of the Margaritas.
"You're right, that does taste good," he gives a devilish grin, placing the bottle aside and wiping his lips with the corner of his jumper sleeve. Mikey looks appalled now,
"Gerard, he's thirteen."
"You're fourteen."
"Yes?"
"Fourteen year olds shouldn't be so whiney,"
"Thirteen year olds shouldn't drink,"
I unscrew the cap.
"See what I said?"