See The Rust Through Your Playground Eyes

Breakfast with my 'family' was as awkward as ever, I was happy to leave once I had finished my coffee. I went to the kitchen and took the tray with Frankie's breakfast with me up to his room.
I didn't sleep at all last night after the dream. It hurt, really. To think that he had so much influence on me and he didn't even know.

I got to Frankie's room and knocked on the door. Not two seconds later the door opened, revealing a very happy looking Frankie, dressed in tight black skinny jeans, a grey sweater with thin red stripes, grey converse and a cute little grey hat.

"H-hi!" he exclaimed, stepping away from the door and letting me in to his room.

"Good-morning, hun."

I thought he would have all of the toys strewn around the room, but no. He had everything as neat and tidy as ever. The teddy bear was sitting in the middle of the large bed, the other things where all in their places. I wouldn't have thought he was so organised.
I placed the tray on the coffee table and turned to see him sitting on the bed cross legged, fiddling with a pillow he had sat on his lap.

"Are you okay, Frankie?"

"Y-you're con-conf...c-confusing."

I froze there, just standing next to the table, "Why?" I asked a few seconds later.

"'Cause y-you s-said 'n-no m-more k-kissing and s-stuff' a-and t-then y-you k-kiss a-again a-and c-call m-me 'h-hun' again." He said in a rush, he wasn't looking at me, instead frowning at the pillow, but I could see he was blushing.

He was right. I was confusing, couldn't make up my mind. But that was only with Frankie. Every other aspect in my life has always been a simple decision. So what if it hurts someone else? As long as I'm good, the world can go to hell. But now you add Frankie and it changes everything in my once simple equation. Now I have to think about if it'll hurt him, if he'll want it, if he understands it. Not that I mind. Not at all, really. I'm just not a costumed to caring about someone else.

"I'm sorry" I said.

He looked up big doe eyes wide with confusion.

He slowly got up and walked towards me.

He didn't look like a little boy. Jeans tight, marking all the curves in his -surprisingly- long legs, hips swaying slightly as he walked and hazel eyes bathed in the unrecognizable emotion, nervously biting his lower lip. He didn't look like a little boy.
He looked like what he was: a beautiful teenage boy.

Under this new light I saw a different side of him, realized things I had let slip by. Like how he swayed his hips more when I was looking, how he made it a goal to wear tighter jeans.

He has a crush.

When he got to where I was he hugged me tightly, standing on his tip toes as always. He rested his head on my shoulder and his arm around my neck. I slid my arms around his slender waist and pulled him even closer.

He had a crush...on me. For some strange reason -which I don't want to think too much about- that made butterflies erupt in my stomach and my heart do acrobatics in my chest.
He turned, still hugging me, and started to walk to the bed. Pushing me down softly so I was sitting and climbing on to my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck and resting his head on my chest. I had a deja vu feeling, remembering the other day when Linda walked in on us in the same position. Only, this time I didn't feel as bad. I didn't think of it as something that bad or wrong. It felt natural and Frankie's body against mine made me feel at home, as if I belonged here; just the two of us in this room, locked away from the peering, judging eyes of the rest of the world. I felt happy.

This scared me. The fact that I was letting this happen and in fact enjoying and wanting it, was extremely concerning. But my mind couldn't concentrate on this right now.
I was occupying myself with the feel of Frankie's silky hair between my fingers, the way his slender body fit perfectly with mine.

It terrifies me to think that I could hurt him, to think that I could easily destroy his innocence and I turned and looked in to his eyes and it hurt. Deep in my chest, I felt it sink.
I want him. So, very much. I want him so much it hurts. And the only thing that can ease the pain is him, but he's so off limits, so untouchable.

And I run my hands down his side and it's scary how good it makes me feel, how easily it calms the aching heart in my chest.

This can't be happening, I can't let this happen. It's risky, dangerous -for both of us- and so wrong on so many different levels.

I lightly pushed him away from me, he moved and sat down next to me, hand on me knee, looking up at me with the most hurt expresion ever. I had to look away from him, I can't stand to look in to those pained, but still unbelieving beautiful, hazel eyes.

I stood up and straitened my thin blue tie, readjusting my white dress shirt and black trench coat.

"I have to go, Frankie." I murmured as I made my way to the door.

My heart screaming at me to not be an idiot and to go back and stay with him while the little sanity left in me yelled for me to get as far away as possible and to not ever look back.
I all but ran up the stairs to my room and threw off my coat, pulled off my tie and took off my shirt.

I walked to my dresser and pulled on a short sleeved dress shirt, black vest, striped black and white tie and black coat. I grabbed my black messenger bag and car keys and left the house. Trying to convince myself that what I heard coming from Frankie's room weren't quiet sobs.
I climbed in to my car and left the house property, going a lot faster than what I should and not caring that I almost ran in to the gates.

I raced down the road until I got to a place where I was sure no one could hear and turned on the stereo as loud as it would go. Screaming at nothing and everything and just wanting the world to turn the other way while I crumbled.

"This cannot be happening to me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I have enough problems as it is, I shouldn't have to worry about these type of things.
About a half hour later, I turned of the stereo and rested my head on the door, looking out the window. I started the car and drove down the lonely road to the city.

The drive there was a constant battle with myself. Not knowing weather to lean for 'go back home and hug him' or 'go anywhere but back, see anyone but him'.

In the end I found myself parcking my car in a large park and sitting on one of the benches. I leaned back and took a look at everyone here. There were many families, a few older couples and a 'rocker' girl sitting on the swing.

She looked absolutely miserable. I wonder if she has a problem like mine? I doubt there's someone else in the world with as bad luck as me, so probably not. I took out my sketchbook and started to draw her. A few minutes later a 'rocker' boy walked in to the park. He looked worried as he skimmed the park but once his eyes fell on the girl he smiled and visibly relaxed. He kind of reminded me of me in that moment. Holding my heart on a string and forgeting al worries and pain the moment I saw that little chocolate haired angel. That special someone that takes the pain away and melts the hate from your heart. That person that you know will help you peice yourself back together again. Like a drug, everyone needs their fix, I guess.
When the guy reached the swings he kneeled in front of the girl and hugged her tightly, she hugged him back. When they pulled away I saw she was crying, black eye liner smudging slightly.

"What's wrong, Trix?" the guy asked quietly, I could barely hear.

She dabbed at the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her hoodie.

"It hurts." the girl -Trix- whispers.

The guy visibly worries. His brow furrows and he holds her at arms length, eyes skimming over her, "Where, Trix?"

"Here," she whispers, placing her leather-gloved hand on her chest, where her heart would be, "I love you so much it hurts...I don't want you to leave, Alex." she says, you can hear the heartbreak and longing in her voice, see it in the way her eyes are splattered with pain, regret but even so, are filled with love.

Is this what Frankie's like? Does he hurt this much? Does he long to have me with him? Do his eyes show his feelings so clearly, and it's just me that can't see them? Or are Frankie and I nothing like Trix and Alex?

Is it all in my head? Do I want him so bad I started to make myself belive he wants me back?
A tear roals down Alex's cheek, he stands and pulls the girl with him, hugging her like both their lifes depended on it. And it probably does, moments like those, where your pain and pleasure comes from the same being, is when you need them the most, when their touch cures the heart-ache and stops the sentimental bleeding.

The person that breaks your heart is the only one that can fix it.
I need Frankie to fix it. Need him to see how much he means to me, how much I'm willing to give to and for him. But I can't let him. If he get's too close, if I let him get too close, I could hurt him so, so much.

I rather break and die in silence than risk hurting him like that.

Notes

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