Come, Angels of Unknown

"Come in!" I shouted from the couch, literally too tired to even get up and open the door. Luckily, Frank found his way in, his slim figure appearing at the door frame. He was wearing skinny jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt again, which made me cringe.

"How can you wear that when it's, like, two billion degrees outside?" I smirked confusedly, to which he just rolled his eyes.

"I'm used to it. I guess I just really hate being exposed, that's all," he sighed and sat beside me on the couch, a bit closer then I'd expected. Surprisingly enough, I didn't feel uncomfortable like that, and that was probably the thing that made my cheeks burn. He looked like he noticed that, but he didn't say anything, just a small smile playing in the corner of his lips.

"So," I started, "coffee?"

He grinned, his lip ring catching a ray of sunshine. "Do you even have to ask?"

I couldn't resist the urge to smirk contently, swiftly getting up on my feet and making my way into the kitchen. By the time I was finished, I'd heard some meowing from the living room, so I walked inside with two mugs and a confused look on my face. The meowing had probably transitioned into purring at some point, but I couldn't tell since I was in the kitchen. There they were, Frank snuggling Milo against his chest and gently scratching him behind the ears.
I handed Frank his mug, smiling at the sight. "You should consider yourself lucky," I said while taking a sip.

"How come?" He raised his eyebrows playfully, turning his attention back to the cat.

"He doesn't like anyone besides me, not even Mikey, my brother, and he lives here," I admitted.

His face looked amused, mixed with a trickle of confusion, a slight blush crawling up his cheekbones. "Wow," he finally managed to say.

"That sure tells a lot about you," I said.

"How do you mean?" Now confusion completely flooded his face, and I couldn't help but to admire at how young he looked like that.

"I'm not sure," I started, sighing. I decided just to say what was on my mind, even though that was something I'd usually never do. "Maybe you're just the same amount of fucked up as I am? I don't know."

"I could go with that," he frowned. "Have you heard about the theory that cats are fond of the same people as their owners?"

I smirked to that. "Are you saying that I'm fond of you?"

"I like to think you are," he said with a small smile.
I had to smile back, awkwardly this time, and look down into my lap. I felt my face heat up, every inch of my skin covered with tingles, but why? I had no idea. Maybe it was the heat, maybe I was developing allergies, and maybe it was just him.

"I'm not saying anything," I finally spoke, making him giggle.

"And why's that?"

"Admitting, denying and refusing are not on my skills list."

"Then you wouldn't refuse if I invited you out on a date?" He looked at me hopefully, probably drawing another blush from my side. I couldn't tell, I was deeply flattered, amused and confused at the same time.

"Maybe, you can always try. I don't guarantee anything," I quirked an eyebrow at him, making him chuckle unresponsively.

Finally when his sudden rush of giggles had calmed down, he was able to speak again. "You're unbelievable."

"Am I really?" I smirked.

"Yes," he smiled. "There's something really good about that."

"Oh?" I smiled.

"Yeah." Now it was his turn to blush, adding just a bit of a rosy tint to his cheeks. I smiled, simply at the sight, completely ignoring my chance to shove some snarky comment in. I didn't have the need, not anymore, not with him.

Suddenly, his face fell a bit. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I looked at him questioningly, a bit taken aback by his mood change. He suddenly seemed very serious, and I was curious about the reason behind it.

"Have you ever wanted to run away? You know, from home?"
I frowned, weighing the question inside my mind. I had wished to run away from home, yes. But I hadn't stopped at wanting.

"Yeah," I said, Why would you want to run away from home?" I sniffed, a wave of my own memories flooding my head as I was saying those words.

"It's..." he'd trailed off before an unamused smile spread across his face. "It's not my home. It's their home, and I'm welcome no more."

"I thought I was the only person left quoting The Smiths," I said with a sincere smile, trying to cease the unknown tension which filled the room when we'd started talking about home. I grinned. "It's fine. Wanting to run away. It's fine."

He made eye contact, a soft expression on his face. "How?"

"It's not your fault if the people you share living space with make you uncomfortable," I said, thinking through my own words as they were leaving my mouth. "Why don't you, y'know, get a job, or go to college and get your own place?"

"I can't leave her." He looked down. I felt a little pain run through my chest as he was saying those words.

"Who?" I dared to ask, even though I was fearing the answer.

"My little sister," he'd said before he looked into my eyes. Relief was probably evident on my face now, because it flooded me entirely. His eyes were so pure, so childlike, yet so sad I wanted to wander inside and find out why. It wasn't fair, logical or sane, but I just wanted to know him.

"Oh," I managed to speak, my words sounding croaky and shaken. I just wanted to hug him and tell him he could run away and never come back. Unfortunately though, him running away would mean he would have to leave me. And I wasn't prepared for that, I was too selfish to let him do that.

"I'm sorry for ranting, oh god. I should probably quit pestering you now, eh?" He bit his lip. I couldn't help the grin form on my face, or the words that came out of my mouth.

"It's not that I don't like hearing you talk," I admitted, staring inside my empty mug, "It's just that I don't like seeing you get sad over it."

"Why do you look like you care so much?" He said in a small voice. "We already established you're one of those people who contain the 'fuck you' attitude towards everything."

He was right. And so were the words which escaped my mouth afterwards. "People meet people who change their attitude towards things, Frank."

"Why would you want someone to change you?" He said. I smiled softly.

"Because sometimes the people are much bigger parts of your life than the changes could ever be," I noticed, still smiling, "and in order to induce the people into your life - you must change, for example, your attitude towards inducing people into your life."

He chuckled, barely but visibly, probably realizing I was talking about him. I didn't care, the way his face lit up as I was saying those things told me that I shouldn't have cared, either.

"I like your mind," he said finally, after a few minutes of mutual gaze. "I like the way you put things into words."

"Thank you," I said, probably blushing again. "I don't."

He sighed, as if he knew there was no discussion he could win if we were to start one about that. He simply let go of the subject, and it was the first time I felt like somebody understood me.

"Tell me more about your sister," I requested, bringing the topic back to him.

"Oh," he smiled. "She's not my real sister, but still."

"That doesn't matter," I said, hoping that I'd sound somewhat encouraging.

"Janet had her when I was five," he started, his face expression changing.

"Janet?"

"My foster mom. Janet and Tim adopted me when I was two, they thought they couldn't have kids. Amber happened three years later," he said with a weird sting of pain in his voice. Especially at the mention of his foster dad's name. "She's going to be fourteen soon, in December."

"What is she like?" I said without feigning interest. It was hypnotizing to watch him talk about something - or someone in this case - he loved. I could've listened to him forever.

"She's extremely smart. You can tell who she got her music taste from," he grinned. "She's bold, doesn't take shit from anyone. Fearless, yeah. She's one of those people with the personality of a lion."

I smiled. To see him talk... it was something beautiful. I somehow had the urge to expose him to the world, just so everyone could see and admire it. But no, one part of me wanted to keep him away from everyone, just so I could be the only one to have the benefit of listening to him. At the back of my mind, I couldn't bring myself to kill the memory of the expression he gave the wall when he mentioned his foster parents.
I knew I would appear nosy if I asked, but I couldn't help it, I was too curious. "Are Tim and Janet the reason you want to run away?"

He looked at me, slight dread crawling up from the corners of his irises and slowly flooding the entirety of his eyeballs. "Y-yes," he stuttered.

"Why?" I was wondering if I was being too nosy, but I couldn't bring myself to stop - it would be very unlike me, I believed. I saw him fidget uncomfortably but I didn't make much out if it simply because it didn't take him long to answer.

"Let's just say Tim hasn't always been the nicest to me," he gulped loudly, and I realized it really was enough. His hands seemed shaky when he brought his mug to his lips.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," I said sincerely.

"It's fine. You seem like someone I might tell the whole thing to, one day," a weak smile spread across his face. I returned it, now eager to fix the damage I'd done to his mood when I brought his foster family up into the conversation again.

"I'd be happy to listen," I said truthfully. He smiled, wider this time, insuring me that whatever it was, he would tell me, sometime.

"I should probably get going," he said, placing his mug on the coffee table.

"I'll walk you out." I stood up, watching him copy the action and follow me towards the front door. He opened it, and was about to walk away, when I remembered something.

"Hey, Frank?" I said after him. He turned around, just before he almost reached the stairs.

"Yeah?" He smiled with his eyebrows up.

"Yes," I bit my lip before he looked at me questioningly. "I'll go out on a date with you."

"Oh," he grinned. "I'm glad to hear that."

I smiled, almost happily this time before I closed the door.

Then I, as every other teenage girl in a romcom would've done, leaned against the door and slid downwards to the floor, grinning like a five year old who just got his hands on that toy he'd been begging his parents for.

Notes

Please don't murder my ass I swear to fuck I'm going to do it before you do. Let's just say I update every three weeks or so, shall we? Yeah.

Rogue is awesome, btw. Like, really awesome. You should check her out. She's the best. Here's her profile. You're welcome.