Before The Sun Goes Down

Frank's POV.
I wake up, with a headache the size of Africa. It's the worst headache I've had in a while, and my stomach is twisting and churning so much that I know that I'm going to throw up. So, I bolt to the bathroom, but I have to stop because I have no clue where it is or where I am.
Disorientated and dizzy, I end up throwing up in the kitchen sink. Not that I have much to bring up, it's mostly clear fluid. It worsens my headache, though.
“Frank?” I finish throwing up, and I wipe my mouth and turn around. Craig is stood there with a look of disgust on his face. “Ah, man. That's gross, Frank.” I make a weird noise, my shoulders hunching.
“Sorry, I didn't know where the bathroom was, so it was either there or on the floor.”
“Eh, it's okay,” He shrugs, walking past me to the fridge. “I've done worse, I suppose.” I grin at his back, relaxing.
I sit down, massaging my temples. “Headache?” I nod, and something slides across the table to me. “Take two of these, they're fucking great.” I look at the silver thing that's holding the pills or whatever.
“What are they?” My voice is horse and it makes me cringe and clear my throat.
“Don't know. I got given them by a friend,” He must see the sceptical look on my face because he grins and nods. “I swear to God, they're good. They're just pain pills, okay?” My head thuds, as if proving his point.
“Fine, pass me some water or something.” A second later, a carton of orange juice is hovering in front of my face, so I grab it and swallow the pills down.
“Better?” I wince, my head still pounding.
“Not really...” I look at him, finding him grinning at me.
“Give it fifteen minutes... Well, maybe twenty, considering how much you drank last night.” I roll my eyes at him, the action making my head pound even harder.
Exactly eighteen minutes and forty three seconds later, my headache starts to abate. I was counting. I decided that it was finally time for me to go home, perhaps have something to eat.
“Craig?” I call him, making him jog into the kitchen.
“Yeah?” He stands in the doorway, his hair wet.
“I should be going home, I bet Donna's worried sick.” He nods, his face falling a bit.
“Sure, man.” I stand up, stretching.
“I'll see you soon, okay? I might come round later, if I've not been buried in the garden or something.” I smile at him, and he chuckles. He nods again, moving out of my way. I'm fully dressed, my shoes still on, even, so I can just leave.
“Bye, Craig!” I call to him from the front door, hearing a faint goodbye back, and I leave the house, starting the long walk back home.
By the time I get back, my stomach's growling, for the first time in what seems like forever. There are black bin bags on the porch, all messily thrown out. I glance at them as I walk past, not really caring.
The door's unlocked, so I go straight in. “Hello?” I kick my shoes off, walking into the lounge.
Donna's sat on the couch, her cheeks tear stained. She leaps up and crushes me into a hug, holding on even when I push her slightly and tense up.
“Frank! You're okay!” She kisses both of my cheeks, grinning. I have a frown on my face and my eyebrows are furrowed.
“Why were you crying?” The happiness disappears from her face, her eyes becoming shiny and wide.
“Oh, Gerard is so angry, Frank. I've been so worried, I haven't slept, and then he stormed out after you hung up on him, and he isn't back yet, and I'm worried about him... I tried to stop him, Frank.” My eyebrows furrow even more, and I grab her hand.
“Stop him from doing what?”
“He's pissed off at you, Frank. Seriously pissed. Your stuff is on the porch. Gerard says that I have to kick you out, or he'll do it, and it won't be pretty.”
“What? Why...? Wh...” I'm speechless, my confusion taking away my words.
“I can't understand you, Frank.” I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts.
“Why?” My hands are clenched, both of them by my sides instead of holding Donna's.
“Think about last night, Frank. The phone call?” I'm silent for a minute, thinking hard.
Memories start to filter through from yesterday, especially the phone call.
“Ah, shit.” I wince, remembering my last words to Gerard.
“Shit is correct.” I look at her, my eyes wide.
“I don't hate him. Far from it, Donna, I love him, okay? I had to break up with him, I had to. Oh, fuck, what have I done?” I slap my forehead, softly, and groan. “Shit, I'm an idiot. Why did I even answer the call?” I look at Donna again, looking at her familiar face. Her eyes are crinkled with concern and sympathy.
“I know you don't hate him, Frank. But... Shit like that hurts, especially when you're told them by someone you love the most. You were drunk and angry, Gerard was just angry. He should have known better than to get you angry, but it happened and all you two can do is apologize, but I think you should apologize first, okay?” I nod, sighing at myself.
“Where is he?”
“I don't have a clue, Frank. There aren't many places he can be, and he's been gone for hours. I'm so worried about him.” A tear falls down her cheek, and I pull her into a hug, ignoring my discomfort.
“He's okay, Donna. He's stronger, a lot stronger than just about everything he'll come into contact with. He's also smart, okay? He'll walk through that door any minute now, angry, but safe,” She nods, and I pull away, sighing. “All we can do now is wait. How about I make us something to eat and some coffee?” She tries to smile, but fails.
“That sounds good, Frank.” I smile back at her, leading the way into the kitchen where I start to fry up some bacon.
We've finished eating, well, kind of. I couldn't manage even half of mine, and Donna only ate a few bites. We're drinking coffee like nobody's business, though. Mikey walks in, yawning.
“Morning.” I nod at him, having a mouthful of coffee, so I can't really speak.
Donna stands up and pulls him into a hug, sighing sadly.
“Good morning, Mikey, I love you, you know that, right?” He pulls her back a bit, looking at her with wide eyes.
“What's wrong, ma?” She shakes her head, closing her eyes.
“Nothing, it's nothing. Sit down and eat some of this food, Mikey, please.” He nods at her, sitting down. He stares at her as he eats, warily and scared.
“Has something happened to Gerard?” Her eyes close again when Gerard's name is mentioned, but she shakes her head.
“No, he's just out.” Mikey pushes the plate away from him, leaning forward.
“Where?” She looks at him for a minute, a look of slight terror in her eyes.
“I don't know, and he isn't answering his phone, and I'm worried. I feel sick, Mikey. He's just my little boy, and he's blocking me out, he's just a boy.” Donna's freaking out, her hands shaking at she waves them around.
“Mom, mom. Calm down, okay? Speak slowly and breathe.” She takes a deep breath, and exhales, starting again.
“He went out early this morning, at around... two? I don't know, but he isn't answering his phone and he's been out for hours. He was livid when he left, that's why I'm so worried. He wasn't thinking straight, I've never seen him like it.” She finishes with a sigh, looking down at her hands.
“Why was he so angry?” She looks at me, making Mikey look at me. I glance away, gulping.
“You've upset him, again? Why, Frank?” I look at him, swallowing again.
“He told Donna about Miles.” Mikey raises his eyebrows, shaking his head.
“So, then what?”
“I got mad and shouted at him, but I was drunk and I can't really remember what I said. I told him that I...” I trail off, clearing my throat.
“That you what?”
“That I hate him. I don't hate him, and I didn't mean it.” I subconsciously place a hand over my heart.
“No wonder he was so angry, Frank. You know he loves you, he loves you to death,” He pauses, looking at me. “That was shitty, Frank. Really shitty.” I look away, my cheeks burning, with shame, probably.
“I know, Mikey!” My voice raises on the last word, but I end it with a sigh.
We lapse into an uncomfortable silence, which lasts until the door bangs open and we hear tipsy giggling. We all look at each other, Donna's eyes shining with hope.
She jumps up and rushes to the door, Mikey and I following. I wish I hadn't come home after seeing him.
Gerard and some guy are standing, the guy pressed against the wall, kissing. Donna gasps and covers her eyes, but I'm unable to look away. They spring apart a few second after they hear Donna, a stupid, drunk smirk on the guy's face.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Surprising us all, Donna is the one that says something first, and she shouts.
“Um, I'm Mark.” His words are slurred, and Gerard giggles. Like a fucking little girl, might I add.
“What are you doing with my son?” Mark look at Gerard, smirking.
“You don't want to know, lady.” Donna's eyes flare with anger, and she marches forward and grabs him by the collar.
“You see him?” She points at me, and I stare back, hoping I look neutral. He nods, staring at me. “If you don't get out of my house in thirty seconds, he'll kick your little fucking ass.” Yeah, sure I will. I almost laugh, but I look down, hiding my smile at her words.
“Mom, he's not leaving. The only person that should be leaving is him.” I know instantly that he's talking about me. The disgust in his voice hurts me, but the anger is stronger.
“I'm not going anywhere, honey.” I flash him a smile, sickly sweet. He scowls at me, crossing his arms.
Donna lets go of Mark, making him stumble. Gerard steadies him, giggling again.
“Get out of my fucking house!” She slaps him round the face, making us all stare at her in surprise, even Gerard.
“Don't you fucking slap me, bitch!” Mark squares up to Donna, and I'm pushing him away from her within a second.
“Leave her the fuck alone, Mark,” I shout it in his face, slamming him against the wall with my arm. “Have some fucking respect, fuck-face.” I push my arm a little deeper into his throat, making him choke.
“Frank, be a little more gentle.” I can hear the amusement in her voice, so I push harder, making him turn red.
“Now, if you want to start a fight, start it with someone that can actually fight, not a little lady.” I back away a little, letting the air flow back through his throat.
“What, like you? A fucking midget?” I smirk, nodding.
“Sure, if that's what you want.” He nods, pulling up his sleeves.
I go to open the door, but I'm stopped by someone grabbing my shoulders and yanking me back.
“Frank, fucking stop it.” I get turned around, so I'm facing a pissed off Gerard. Sure, he's angry, but I'm fucking passed being angry.
“No, you fucking stop it! This fucking guy just fucking almost beat up your mother, Gerard!” I throw my hands up, turning around.
“Shall we?” I nod at Mark, my chest heaving.
I open the door, storming outside.
We face each other, are fists clenched. He's pretty wiry, a lanky man with not much muscle. And, I don't think he has much experience in fights, and I have. I decide to let him make the first move, which he does; a punch to my face.
I throw one back, a lot harder than his. He stumbles back a little, the easiness disappearing from his face. He lunges again, missing my stomach by an inch. I laugh, punching his nose. He growls, holding his bloody nose.
Considering I barely eat, I'm still pretty strong. I don't know how that's possible, but I'm not complaining.
I throw two more punches, one landing in his stomach and the other on his cheek, making him fall over.
“You little bastard.” He looks up at me, and I kick him in the face, making him lie down again. He's back up in a few seconds, a cut on his eyebrow and cheek. He's holding something in his hand, but I can't tell what it is, so I go to punch him again, only to feel a sharp pain in my shoulder.
“Fuck...” I look down, seeing a small knife sticking out of my shoulder. Blood is soaking through my shirt, but I can't really feel the pain after the initial sting. I look at Mark, then back at the knife, then back at Mark again, my anger growing every time I look at his face.
“You little pussy bitch!” I pull out the knife, quickly glancing at the wound, which doesn't look deep, and throw the knife; more out of anger than anything. It lands in his thigh, the hilt pressing against the skin. He goes down, howling.
I walk over to him, smiling at his body. Spitting in his face, I kick his side. I kick him again, and I feel his nose crack under my foot, so I stop. He's howling and tears are mingling with cuts on his face.
I look around, seeing Gerard stood nearby, and Donna and Mikey in the doorway. They're all looking at me with pale face and wide, scared eyes. I smile at them, not knowing what else to do. Feeling the blood from my shoulder run down my back, I look down. Okay, perhaps I was wrong and the wound is pretty bad.
The blood is everywhere, the black of my shirt becoming darker from being wet. I sigh, thinking of how I'm probably going to have to throw it away.
“You're lucky that you just fucking did that in the back garden, Frank.” I look up, involuntarily taking a step back when I see how close Gerard is.
“He deserved it.” I shrug, the movement making me wince.
“Did he?” Gerard looks at Mark, who's passed out.
“Yeah, he did. If I hadn't of stopped him, Donna would probably have a black eye now, at the very least. Your own mother, Gerard.” I stare at him, looking him right in the eyes. He looks down, shame in his eyes.
“I wouldn't have let him. If you'd have just left us alone, we wouldn't have bothered any of you.”
“I'm sure the noises of you two fucking would have bothered us, Gerard.” I shake my head at him, his frown transforming into a smirk.
“No, we were too tired from last night to do anything else but kiss, I think...” My blood boils, my eyes narrowing before I could stop them.
“Shut up.” Jealousy runs through my blood, the horrible feeling practically singing. Hurt is also there, but I can push that down until later, when I'm with Craig or something.
“Why? Is it bothering you?” I look at him, nodding my head.
“Yes, it is, actually.” He smirks.
“What part? The fact that we had sex several times? Or the part that he can touch me without freaking out, and you can't?” I grab his throat, pulling him down. Surprisingly, he actually moves. I slap his face with my other hand, making him wince slightly.
“Shut the fuck up, Gerard! You're a fucking prick and I actually really do fucking hate you! How could I love someone as vile as you?” Hurt flashes through his eyes, and he doesn't bother covering it up. I push him away, storming away and slamming the door behind me.
“Frank, what's wro-?” I push off the hand that's on my shoulder, growling.
“Fuck off and leave me alone.” I run to my bedroom, slamming the door and punching the wall with my already scabbed-over knuckles, which makes them bleed again. I go over to the window, which looks over the back garden.
Much to my disgust, I see Gerard crouching over Mark, but I'm not sure what he's doing. It looks like he's feeding off him, but surely he isn't? My question is answered when Gerard stands up and looks around with blood around his mouth.
Whatever is in my stomach lurches, and I have to look away and crouch over to keep the stuff in my stomach. I retch, my whole body shaking as tears finally run down my face.
“Fuck.” I mutter into my hand, my voice ragged. “Fuck. I can't stay here.” I breathe in, not sure if I just spoke out loud or if I was talking in my head.
Something sweet enters my nose, it smells slightly like pork. It makes my stomach lurch again, and I begin to have a funny feeling that it might be Mark down there, burning.
I look out the window again, and sure enough, I see a fire, right where Mark was lying, but no Mark.
I breathe in again. It finally sinks in that what I'm smelling is a human being, burning. An actual person, and Gerard has just murdered him.
I am sick this time, and I'm hovering over the toilet for a long time, long enough for my stomach to cramp and my headache to start up again. My shoulder is starting to really hurt, the pain a steady throb.
I have a shower, but I have to put on the same clothes again, because all of my stuff is out in black bags on the porch. I feel dirty, and I hate it. There's blood on my clothes, too, and the metallic smell is making me feel sick, and the drying material is sticking to my skin.
I'm opening the door with my jacket on when Donna stops me.
“Frank, where are you going?” I look at Donna, who still looks pale.
“I can't stay here. Not with that monster around me, Donna. He makes me sick.” I offer her a small smile, then turn away, locking the door behind me.
I grab all of my stuff, somehow managing to unlock my car as well.
“Bye, Frank.” I jump, dropping all of my shit. Glancing behind me, I see Gerard sat on the porch, leaning against the wooden railing.
“Don't fucking talk to me, you monster.” I say it through gritted teeth, whilst picking up my things.
He says nothing back, so I look at him. He isn't looking at me, he's looking through me, with a really fucking depressed look on his face. It bothers me slightly, but I walk away and put everything in my car. I drive off without a second glance at Gerard, sniffing and holding back tears as I do.
Craig welcomes me with open arms and a few shots of something. I drink the shots, feeling calmer and slightly less tearful as I do. I end up telling him everything, even the part about how Gerard's a vampire, and he listens, and he doesn't judge me. He takes the whole Gerard's-alive-and-he's-a-vampire thing really well, but he's probably just trying to not freak out because of me.
My shoulder has stopped hurting, the alcohol numbing the pain, but alcohol makes your blood thinner, so if it starts bleeding again, I'll bleed everywhere.
Clumsily, I hug him, his warmth and softness making a change from the coldness and familiarity of Gerard. I drink nothing else, apart from a beer, but I smoke a ton of pot.
“Frank, you're fucking awesome.” Craig is drunk, and I'm high, which isn't a very good combination. After we finished another conversation on Carla the Couch- which was basically us trying to remember her name- we lapse into a silence.
“No, you are.” I say back to him, a good ten minutes after he originally said it. He grins at me, shaking his head.
“Nah, I'm a mess.” I nod, jokingly, and we both laugh. Somewhere in me knows that he wasn't joking, but the high, giggly part of me can't even think about holding a deep conversation.
Thanks for letting me stay here, Craig.” He shakes his head, waving me off. I notice again that his hands are shaking, but the thought escapes my mind before I can chase it up.
“No problem, I missed you, anyway.” I pinch his cheek, making him slap my hand and for me to giggle.
“You're a little cutie, aren't you?” I smile at him, laughing at the blush spreading across his cheeks.
“Shut up, you're the small one, so that instantly makes you cute, right?” He nudges me, winking.
“I'm not cute! I have tattoos and shit. And scars- they aren't fucking cute.” He laughs at me, nodding.
“Okay, I guess you aren't that cute. You swear like a fucking sailor, that isn't cute. It's pretty hot, though.” He says the last part quietly, his cheeks going redder.
“You think I'm hot?” He looks at me, hesitatingly nodding after a second. “Really? Well, ditto...”
Actually, his missing teeth freak me out, but the rest of him is okay, I guess. If he keeps his mouth closed, he's a definite eight. Maybe even a nine...
He grins at me, shaking his head and laughing.
“Frank, I'm gay.” He lets out a deep sigh, his eyes wary.
“I kind of guessed, Craig. Normally, straight guys don't call other guys hot, y'know?” I smile at him, making his eyes lighten.
“You're the first person I've ever told.” My eyes widen in surprise, and I suck in some air.
“Thank you for telling me, Craig. That's a big thing.” I pat his shoulder, a soft smile on my face.
“Thank you for accepting me, Frankie.” I shake my head, winking at him.
“I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't, wouldn't I?” He shrugs, smiling at me.
We look at each other, our faces getting closer together before I look away and garb his drink, breaking the moment. He sighs quietly, leaning back.
“I've got your drink...” I wave it at him, and he forces a smile on his face.
“Give it back!” I down the liquid, smiling as I do.
“Whoops...” I smile at him, handing him the empty glass.
My head feel fuzzier, and I laugh at nothing.
“Dick...” He pours himself another drink, gulping half down and putting it on the other side of the table, where I can't reach it.
“Don't worry, I don't really want any more. I really don't want to wake up with another hangover this week...” I sigh, leaning back and putting my legs over Craig.
He slaps them, but he doesn't push them off. I start to fall asleep, but Craig lies down, too, his head landing on my chest. He's breathing deeply and evenly within seconds, and soon I'm asleep.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains wakes me up, and I wake up with everywhere hurting, especially my shoulder, probably from the little fight I had yesterday.
“Fuck...” I mutter, moving slightly. I'm stopped by a heavy, warm weight on me, and I freeze, slowly looking down. I relax as soon as I see that it's only Craig.
By flicking his ear, I manage wake him up. He wakes up with a wince, his hands going to his eyes.
“Headache?” He groans, nodding. “You shouldn't have drank so much, then...” I smirk, flicking his head again.
“Fuck off and let me sleep, bitch.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“If you want to sleep, then get off me and let me get a drink or something.” He groans again, looking up at me. I think he finally realizes what position we're in, with him draped over me, and he turns red and sits up.
“Ah, fuck my head.” He leans over, making his forehead touch his knees. I laugh at him again, standing up and stretching.
“Poor little Craig...” I walk into the kitchen, a smile on my face. The smile disappears when I notice the amount of dirt on everything again.
“Craig, do you mind if I clean this shit-hole up today?” I hear a noise back that vaguely resembles a 'yes', so I a carton of orange juice and drink some. I also decide that I should probably wrap my shoulder up before cleaning, so I look in all of his cupboards, finally coming across a dusty first aid kit. I open it, inspecting the bandages and things, looking for dirt. I find none, so I pull my shirt off of my shoulder, where's it's dried and stuck, wincing. I wipe a disinfectant wipe over it, cleaning it and getting the blood off, and then put a bandage over it, a frown on my face all the time. When I'm done, I look around and sigh.
“Okay, what to do first,” I frown, biting my lip. “Hmm... the floor.” I nod at myself.
Ten minutes later, half of the kitchen floor is sparkling. I've had to get on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with a rag that I found. I have to stop after around ten minutes to take some pain reliever, and I check on my shoulder, which hasn't started bleeding again.
By the time Craig shows his face, the kitchen is done, and all of the pots and things are sparkling, too. He looks around the room in amazement, his lips curling up.
“It's even cleaner than when I first moved in! Thank you..” I shrug, but he pulls me into a hug, squeezing me. I freeze, tensing, and he lets me go, apologizing with his eyes.
“It's okay.” I smile at him, patting his head.
“Um, Frank, I'm not a dog.” I smile at him.
“I know.” He shakes his head at me, smiling and looking around the kitchen.
“Wow...” He mutters, making me laugh.
“If you'll excuse me, I'm going to do the rest of the place, okay?” He nods, not looking at me but at the floor.
Everything is clean by dinner time, and I'm exhausted.
I walk into the kitchen, yawning and collapse into a chair.
“God, Frank you look fucking tired.” I nod, closing my eyes for a second and the opening them again.
“You got any cigarettes?” I look at him, my voice lazy and thick with tiredness. He nods, pulling a packet from his pocket and lighting one for me. “Thanks.” I smoke the cigarette, stubbing it out when I'm finished.
“Better?” I look at him, nodding and smiling.
“I'd be even better if I had a coffee...” I smile at him, a sweet one, and he smiles back, rolling his eyes.
“Give me five seconds.” I nod, closing my eyes again. “Here..” My eyes snap open.
“What?”
“Your coffee?” I look at the mug, smiling.
“Yeah, thanks. I must have dropped off...” He nods, smiling. I sip the drink, and by the end of it, I feel more awake.
“The place looks fantastic, Frank.”
“Thanks, Craig. I couldn't stand another second looking at the dirt...” I laugh, making him roll his eyes, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you mind if I have a shower? I feel fucking gross. My blood is all over everything, and I think my shirt is actually stuck to me...” He shakes his head, sipping his own coffee.
“You know where the bathroom is, right?” I nod, I cleaned it earlier. “Off you go, then.” I stand up, walking into the living room where I dumped my things and I start to rifle through the bags. I find some clothes that look like I could sleep in them, so I head to the bathroom and have a shower.
I scrub at myself for at least ten minutes, making my skin turn a deep pink. I force myself to get out before I start bleeding, and the room is freezing when I do.
Shivering, I dry myself and brush my teeth quickly. I put my clothes in the now-empty hamper, deciding to wash the clothes tomorrow, too tired to do it today. And, I put on a fresh bandage and some random cream stuff I found in the first aid kit.
Craig's on Carla the Couch, watching television. It's some shitty show that I have no clue what it's about. I jump on him, making him groan and almost fall off. I roll off him, laughing. I keep my legs on him, and we end up in the same position as last night, apart from Craig isn't lay on me.
My eyes start to close, but every time they do, I get images of Mark's burning body, or Gerard sucking his blood. I even start to smell that sweet, sickly smell of burning human-flesh. It gets so bad that I end up falling off the couch and banging my head on the coffee table.
“Shit, Frank, are you okay?” I nod, standing up. I notice my hands shaking and start twisting them together. “No you aren't.” I look at him and sigh, my eyes becoming wet.
“I'm sorry, it's just...” I trail off, taking a deep breath. “It's just what Gerard did to that guy, it's fucking sick...” He nods, pulling me next to him and patting my hand.
“I know, when you told me I thought I would throw up...” He fakes a gag, making me shakily laugh. He looks pleased that he makes me laugh, which makes me smile. I start to smell the smell again, and the smile drops off my face and I shudder. He sighs, patting my hand again.
“You'll be okay, Frank.” I look up at him, desperate.
“When?” My voice breaks, making my cheeks flame.
“I don't know,” His answer makes me smile, it's probably the most honest thing I've heard in a while. We stare at each other, his eyes searching mine. “Frank, I really want to kiss you.” My eyes widen slightly, but I don't look away.
“Do it, then.” He stops breathing for a minute, his lips parting.
“Really?” I hesitate, then nod once, closing my eyes.
His lips are warm and soft, nothing like Gerard's, but it's the unfamiliarity that I welcome and crave. I lean into the kiss, it being slow and gentle. I forget about his missing tooth and shaky hands, and focus on how nice and welcoming he's been to me.
Kissing him isn't anything like kissing Gerard, the spark isn't there, but it's nice. It's... homey; comfortable.
I curl my arms around his neck, pressing my lips harder onto his, making him moan lightly. He breaks the kiss, both of us breathless and he smiles at me shyly.
“You're the first guy I've properly kissed, Frank.” I look down, not wanting him to see the guilt that I'm sure is in my eyes. I took his first kiss, and I have absolutely no feelings for him, except friendship.
“Wow, really?” I force a smile on my face, and I grab his hand. “I couldn't tell...” I glance up at him, seeing him smile to himself. I can't help myself, I kiss him again, more desperate this time. I'm slowly freaking out, but I push it all away, focusing on kissing him. I tug on his shirt, and he pauses and looks at me dubiously.
“Are you, um, sure?” I nod, making a whiny noise. He relaxes, pulling his own shirt off. I kiss him again, pushing him backwards so he's leaning against the back of the couch. I pull my shirt off, catching my breath as I do.
I trail kisses down to his neck and back again, making him groan. I suck on his skin, leaving a light hickey. I create several more before he pulls my lips back to his, and he kisses me with more vigour. “Can I?” He tugs on the waistband of my pants, and I swallow hard, then nod.
“Only if you take yours off.” I smile cheekily at him, and he winks and nods.
“My pleasure, Frankie.” Soon, our pants are off, and we're kissing again. He breaks the kiss, looking at me.
“Are you sure?” I hesitate.
“Yeah. I need someone to replace what he did, you know? I think that it'll help,” He looks at me with worry and doubt in his eyes. “Please, Craig.” I kiss him again, pulling on his hair. I think he forgets his doubts, because we're soon naked and still kissing.
We don't sleep until the sun starts to come up. We get too busy with ourselves to sleep, lost in meaningless drunk kisses and sweat.

Notes

Guess what I bought today!
Three Cheers, and Nirvana Unplugged vinyls! And I got some awesome long socks..
Anyway, plot twist!
Hope you're enjoying this so far...