Every Burden Has a Version

I rested on the ground next to Frank’s bed at his mother’s house. It was nearly midnight and he was sleeping soundly in his bed. I couldn’t help but to think what if I am missing something? Am I truly that blind? Am I oblivious to what is going around me in circles? Frank could be my soul mate and I wouldn’t know. I would go on with my life thinking he was my best friend. Maybe we just need to add water to our relationship and something will spark. I don’t know. Why do I care? I don’t, but my sub conscious is eating away at me. What are the odds of us being more than “just friends”? There are none.

I abruptly sat up when I saw Frank’s clock switch to exactly midnight. I screeched, climbing on his bed, and shaking him.

“Wake up! Wake up, Frank,” I hastily hollered.

He grumbled something that I couldn’t make out.

“It’s October thirty-first, Franklin. Your birthday,” I finally whispered. “Please, please wake up. I can’t be screaming blaspheme for the both of us. I’ll wake your mom.”

“Woo,” he groaned. “Now go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t even fall asleep in the first place.” I jumped up on his bed and began to hop.

“It’s my birthday?” Frank’s eyes opened to see me skipping on his bed.

“I don’t know, Frank. Is the pope Catholic? Is the sky blue? I just don’t know. You ask me such hard-hitting questions.” I hooked on to his hands, trying to pull him from under his bed sheets. “We need to celebrate! What did I come all the way out here for from California when you won’t even let me have any excitement?”

Frank rose to his feet as I forced him to jump on his bed.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Frank suggested, a smile growing on his face.

“Where’d you want to go?” I asked.

“Anywhere,” he replied. He leaped off his bed.

“Catch me.” I grinned, getting goose bumps and I dove from his bed.

Frank caught me with my arms wrapped around his neck and my feet dangling in the air. I titled my head, letting go of him.

“Congratulations, you’re twenty-one,” I hoorayed him, walking out of his room. I grabbed my messenger bag that I bring everywhere I go.

We left his house in our pajamas and heavy coats. We didn’t know where we were precisely going and frankly we didn’t care.

“Is there a bus stop around here?” I questioned, breathing warm air in my hands.

“There’s one at the end of the block.” Frank put his left arm around me to create more heat. “Why do you ask?”

“I have to give you your first birthday gift.”

“My birthday present consists of riding the bus that smells like piss because hobos piss on it?”

“It has nothing to do with the bus. It’s just that bus stations have street lights and a bench.”

“Hobos piss on those benches too.” He grimaced as I shrugged his arm of my shoulder.

“There’s one,” I shouted, running towards the bus stop, sliding my ass on the bench. “Sit down, Frank.”

He glared at the bench, at me, and the bench again.

“It’s not like we haven’t pissed on this bench before. We have several times. Sit your fat ass down, mister,” I laughed. I took my messenger bag off my shoulder, reaching in for my electric tattoo apparatuses and a picture of the tattoo I was going to give Frank. I put my tattooing devices together for Frank’s tattoo.

“Wow, what’s that?” he sat down, touching a bag that contained disinfected needles.

“It’s your first birthday gift of many. Happy birthday, darling,” I joked. I smirked. “Give me your,” I paused and thought, “left arm.”

He willingly gave me his left limb after taking off his jacket and rolling up his long sleeve shirt. He eyed me circumspectly.

A buzzing sound rang through our ears and I tapped the needle on Frank’s skin. He flinched once then soothingly sighed at the touch.

“This won’t hurt a bit.” I winked.

“What’s it going to be?” Frank inquired.

“You’ll see.”

I went into an unsullied, new-fangled state of mind. I literally always did when I tattooed someone so it couldn’t have just been Frank. The ink permanently went onto Frank’s skin with the stick and poking I was performing. The tip of the needle was saturated with ink and pricked his skin numerous times in a second. The magnitude of the ink increased as I penetrated the needle in his skin. I was so accurate with controlling the profundity, force, and momentum of the tattoo gun.

Frank snoozed off when I was almost done adding color and clearing out the excess ink laying on the top of his arm.

I gazed at the heart with the knife through it and the words “I’m so sorry” above the tattoo. I was pleased with my work. I hope he just understands.

-Three Years Ago- “Can’t you just help me pick out an outfit, Frank?” I moaned, turning off the video game Frank was playing. “You can get back to Donkey Kong later, but right now I need something to wear.”

Frank threw his head on my pillow. “I don’t know. Why can’t you just wear what you’re wearing now?”

“It’s a party, Frank, not your everyday average school day. Get your ass off my bed and help me or leave my house.”

“It’s your birthday and you can piss over everyone and everything if you want to. If you want to,” Frank sang, clapping his hands to the rhythm.

“Shut up, asshole,” I sniggered, pushing him in my closet. “Find me something. Please.” I sat on my bed, turning back on the video game Frank was playing. “You totally suck at Donkey Kong, man! Jesus,” I huffed. “Donkey Kong actually reflects if you’re going to make it in the real world.”

“What about this?” Frank muffled.

“Come out of the closet. I can’t see what you’re talking about.”

Frank walked out my closet with an annoyed expression and held up a black double zipped pencil skirt.

“I can’t wear a skirt.” I focused on the video game.

“Why the fuck not? It’s a nice skirt.”

“I don’t wear skirts.”

“Then why do you own it?” Frank threw the clothing item on my floor.

“I don’t know. It was for my grandma’s funeral I think. I know it’s incredibly skimpy.”

“What if you wear tights or some shit underneath it so you’re not entirely out there?” Frank sat next to me, stealing away the video game controller.

“I suppose. I have fishnets with contrast lace. Oh, and I have this super awesome night rider jacket that’s plaid and red.” I gasped, running into my closet.

“You can wear those black and white pinstripe bondage sneakers, Violet.” Frank followed me into my walk-in closet.

“You’re so gay and I love you!” I embraced Frank.

“I’m so not gay.”

“So, you’re just plain gay? I get it.” I lowered my voice and winked. “I get you.”

“I’m not gay!”

Notes

Yay! An update. (: I hope you guys enjoyed it. The good part is coming up by the way.

-christy-

http://astr0zombies.tumblr.com/