Frankie looked up, surprised. He gave Diana a confused look, she ignored him completely.
I hadn't said anything -or even moved- at all since I saw her. I was still trying to not have a panic attack. When I didn't answer her smile deflated a tiny bit, but she went to sit down next to me.

Oh, god, no.

"W-who're y-you?" Frankie asked harshly, he looked absolutely fuming, confusment still visible.

"Uh, I'm Diana." She said, then turned to me as if Frankie wasn't even there. "So, how've you been, Jake?" She asked in a horribly over acted, to-be sexy tone of voice.

Frankie looked like he was debating wether to scream or cry. And confused. Very, very confused. I can't imagine what's going through his head right now.

"I- uh...incase you haven't noticed; we are in the middle of lunch." I answered, not looking at her, I was keeping my eyes on Frankie. Trying to convey some kind of comfort. He must feel horrible, and it's all my fault.

"Oh, you want me to leave?" She asked bitterly, if a bit hurt.

"That would be splendid." I replied, half glancing at her. She looked shocked and dare I say, embarresed.

"You sure didn'r think that last time." She spat.

Frankie looked as confused and worried as could be, poor Frankie. With her last statment Frankie's eyes widened and he turned to me, brow furrowed and looking utterly lost.

"W-why're y-you h-here?" Frankie asked before I coul even think about what to say.

She turned to Frankie with an annoyed look on her face. "That's none of your bussiness." She replied harshly.

I turned to her, feeling my blood boil. I know men should never hit a woman, but maybe we could make an excepcion? "Don't talk to him like that."

"Who is he anyway? Your kid?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She probably thought that was it. That Frankie couldn't know what had happened between us because he would tell my 'wife'. If only she knew.

"He is none of your bussiness, could you leave?"

She got really close to me, I turned my face away, she started playing with my hair. "Why don't you tell me what you said last time?" She asked, reeking sluttiness.

I turned to look at Frankie, he looked as though he were slowly understanding. I could see it, the moment he realized exactly what was going on and who this girl was. His eyes sparkled with hurt feelings and widened in disbelief, his shoulders dropped and he hunched in on himself, looking young and vulnerable and betrayed.

"I w-wanna l-leave." He stated, he didn't look at me.

"Your dad's busy, kid." Diana said bitterly.

I opened my mouth, ready to tear her apart for speaking like that to my Frankie, but he beat me to it. "H-he's n-not my d-dad!" He exclaimed.

She looked confused, dropping her hand from my hair, but not moving away. I awkwardly shifted in my seat, trying to decide what to do.

"Then why are you with him?" She asked Frankie a few moments later.

Frankie looked at me for a second. I knew what he was going to say, and it was going to make all hell break loose. "H-he's m-my b-boyfriend." He stated simply.

It was completely quite for a second, just the backroud noise of the restaurant. I felt as though the whole world had heard and were now ready to chase me with pichforks and torches. What I did, what I was doing, was horrible. I was taking advantage of this sweet little boy. And even though I knew I would never hurt him, the rest of the world didn't, and wouldn't care about what I had to say. To them, I was hurting him in the worst way imaginable. And for that, I would never be forgiven.

She turned to me, I breifly looked at her. She was horrified, and discusted. "Are you fucking kidding?" She asked, sounding just about ready to call the priest and have me crusified.

"We have to go now." I pushed my chair back and walked to Frankie's side.

She was siting there as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard. She caught my arm before I could walk to Frankie. "You're sick!" She hissed. It was probably true. Normal 19 year old's don't have relationships with 16 year old boys that look like they could be 13 and act even younger. "I'm going to call the police."

"Who would believe you? You don't even know my real name. If I were you, I wouldn't mess with someone like me." I glared at her, even though I was terrified. Not because of going to jail. It was true, who would believe her? I was scared because it was true, the fact that I was a sick pedofile that enjoyed perverting little boys like Frankie. If I was capable of doing such things to Frankie, what else was I capable of doing?

She looked worried, probably thinking I had actually done something terrible to Frankie, like rape him or something equally as horrible. "How can you live with yourself?" She asked, looking utterly horrified. "How can you hurt the poor kid so much and not even care?"

"Our live is none of your bussiness." I stood up straight and and fixed my tie, then walked over to Frankie, who looked very confused, and helped him out. He went without objection, but he didn't seem happy, at all. I took out my wallet and left some money on the table, then held his delicate hand in mine and turned back to look at Diana. She was staring at us with horrified disbelief. "If I ever hear from you again, you'll regret it." I said to her. Then I put Frankie's sunglassess back over his eyes and his hat over his head and walked us out of the restaurant, not looking back.
We walked for a couple minutes, I had no idea where we were going, I just wanted a distraction from what had happened. Frankie was really quiet. He hadn't said anything at all and he looked very sad. We were back on the main street, it was just as busy as it had been an hour ago. I looked down at Frankie, feeling my heart ache when I saw how miserable he looked. I pulled us to a part of the sidewalk that wasn't so busy.

"Frankie, hun, I am so, so sorry." I apolagized, taking his glassess off so I could see his eyes, hurt and glassy with heartbreaking tears.

"T-that's the g-girl?" He asked, sounding very, very hurt.

"...yes." I answered, feeling absolutely horrible.

"Y-you l-like t-that m-more t-that me?" He asked, his voice craking a bit.

"No! I was just- I didn't think. I'm sorry, hun, I really am." I stutered.

He looked up at me with dibelief, his botom lip quivered and I braced myself for what was to come. He buried his face in his hands and started to cry, very, very quietly. His shoulder shook lightly and I could see the tears dripping down from between his fingers.

"Hun, please, I'm so sor-" He held up his hand to silence me, his other arm over his eyes so I couldn't see him.

"I w-wanna g-go h-home." He sighed, his beautiful voice laced with tears and betrail.
I tried to touch his shoulder but he pushed me away, snatching the glasses out of my hand and putting them on before I could even blink. He turned away and started walking, I followed him in silence.


The drive home was silent, Frankie didn't say anything the whole time, and he didn't let me touch him either. We were ten minutes from the mansion now, Frankie hadn't even looked at me since we spoke on the sidewalk. I can't imagine what he would say, I didn't think he would react like this. The silent treatment actually does hurt.

I stopped the var right there, in the middle of the lonely road. He turned to me, he was still wearing his glasses and hat, so I couldn't make out his expresion, but I could just feel him questioning me.

"I'm not moving this car until you say something." I stated, I didn't care if he called me every name under the sun, I just wanted to hear his voice. He didn't say anything, but he took off the glasses. His eyes were red and iritated, he glared at me. "Please talk to me." I wispered, almost inaudibly.

He turned away from me, looking out the window for a couple seconds, then he opened the passenger door and got out, begining to walk down the road. I stared, horrified, for all of two seconds. It's dangerous out here, he can't just walk home. I staggered out of the car and jogged up to him, stopping in front of him so he couldn't just ignore me.

"Okay, okay. I get it, okay? You're mad, and rightly so. And I understand that you don't want to talk to me right now. But you can't walk home. Just- just, get back in the car and I'll drive us back and you can ignore me there, but it's way too dangerous for you to be out here." I rambled.
He finaly looked at me, he looked angry and hurt. He didn't say anything and just walked back to the car, got in to his side and slamned the door shut. I stood in the middle of the road like a fool for a minute or two after.

It was okay if he didn't want to speak to me, it realy was, I understood. But he didn't have to act like this. He could refrain from the door slamning and glares.

Besides, I thought we had gotten over this. When it happened Frankie and I weren't together. And we had talked it throuhg anyway, I thought we were over it.

I jumped about ten feet in the air when I heard the car horn. I turned around to see Frankie glaring at me, again. I sighed and resisted the urge to pull my hair out.

It's okay if he's mad, I get it. I really, really do. But he doesn't have to do all this. All the drama and glares and horn honking is utterly unnecesary. I stood there for another minute, all the time I could just feel Frankie's angry eyes on me.

I sighed and started for the car. I can't believe he's acting like this. We had already talked about this, we had gotten over it. He's overreacting. He's making such a big fuss out of nothing. It's really no big deal, right? I mean, that was a long time ago, way before we even started dating. And he never mentioned it, I thought he was over it. I got in to the car, Frankie wouldn't look at me. Oh, so after all the glaring he suddenly can't look at me anymore?

"He's being so over dramatic." I did not just say that out loud.

I slowly turned to look at Frankie, he was staring at me as if he couldn't believe I just said that. Hell, I couldn't believe I just said that.

"I'm n-not o-over dr-dramatic!" He exclaimed in a hurt tone of voice.

"Of course not! I didn't mean that. I just..." There was really no way of ending that sentence.

"Y-you're so m-mean! A-and t-that g-girl w-was m-mean a-and I t-thought y-you c-cared a-about me, y-you d-don't! Y-you're m-mean t-to me l-like e-everyone e-else!" He exclaimed, tears brimming his beatiful, beautiful eyes.

His words hurt, a lot. I didn't want him to think that. I didn't want him to think of me likethat. What I did was wrong, very, very wrong. And it had hurt him so much. I didn't want him to think that I would do something like that again. Never, never again would I do something as terribly stupid as cheat on him.

"No! Frankie, hun, I didn't mean that, I was just- uh, a bit...frustrated?" It came out more of a question. "I really, really didn't mean it. And I'm so sorry about what happened. And I know I'm probably messing stuff up even more, but I really don't know what to say, other than sorry." I rambled.

He didn't say anything. He leaned his head back against the window, he closed his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek. I put my elbow on the door and rested my head on my hand.
This is brutal. He's hurting so much, and it was all my fault. And it hurts me, too. Just to see him like this, hurts. And then to think about what Diana said, that hurts even more. Maybe she's right? Maybe the whole world is right and I just let the love blind me. Maybe I was hurting him, he sure is hurting now. Maybe he doesn't realize what I'm doing. To any other person it would be punch in the face obvious that you can't do what I'm doing. When did I forget that? When did I stop caring if it was okay or not?

"A-are y-you m-mad at m-me?" Frankie asked alomst half an hour later, we were still sitting in the car in the middle of the road.

"Of course not." I answered, I turned to look at him, he was currled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking at me with big eyes. "Of course not." I repeated, almost a whisper.
He sat back on his knees and brushed hair away from my face, then kissed my cheek. I took his hand and pulled him closer, turning to kiss his lips.

"M-m'sorry." he mummbled, still half kissing.

"What? No. For what?" I stampered, pulling away to look at him.

"F-for b-being so m-mean." He looked down at our hands.

"You weren't. It was my fault, and just- uh...don't worry, okay?" I didn't really want to talk about it, if we could just forget it ever happened, that would be great.

I didn't want to have to think about what Diana had said, I wanted to be able to dismiss it as rubberish. But I couldn't, her words had hit me hard, knocking off the blindfold I had been using so I could see -clear as day- exactly what I was doing. And how wrong and sick and perverted it was. Ignorance truely is bliss, how could I have not realized all of this? Frankie's only sixteen, he's mentally ill and he's the sweetest most inoccent being I've ever met. How could I have thought, even for a second, that our relationship could be at least okay? I had taken this sweet little boy to bed with me and hadn't even cared that he was so, so young and pure and I had taken all that and not thought twice of it. I am a horrible person.

But Frankie seems so happy, his eyes seem brighter and his smile even more lovely than before. I ccouldn't have done something so terrible if he's so happy, right?

"L-let's go h-home." He said calmly, as if it were all over, the peace after the storm.

"Yes. Buckle up, hun. Let's go home." The calm after the storm. But the storm -at least the one in my head- was just begining.

Notes

*IS PISSED* there are like. 200 of you guys, why do you not comment?!

Hope you guys like this one, COMMENT, RATE AND SUBSCRIBE, 'KAY?
If there isn't over tTWENTY comments on this chapter I'm not gonna update for like a month if at all.