And I Can Be Cruel, Just Like You

June 30

Mikey's POV

I walked to Frank's house and knocked twice. He answered quickly and invited me in.

I've only known Frank for a year and a half but over that time he's managed to steal my heart and become the best friend I've ever had. We get along so well because we're just on the same level in everything, our intellect is matched. He's so easy to talk to and I've had more fun with him than anyone, ever.

"Hi! So, the guy. I wanna know everything." He said.

"Uh, where do I start?"

"Hair color, eye color, height." He replied. Typical Frank. He, like many other people was a creature of sight. That isn't to say he wouldn't like someone less attractive, he just makes his initial judgements based on looks.

"Brown, brown, and tall-ish, maybe 6 foot." I said.

"Is he cute?! How does he dress? How is his smile?"

"He's very cute. He dresses like everyone else does, y'know, with clothes, and his smile is phenomenal." I replied. He then proceeded to take my phone, without asking, of course, and search my camera roll to find a picture. Luckily for him, I looked him up and found his Twitter and saved every picture I could find of him.

"He kinda looks cute. But he also kinda looks like he just smelled his own fart." He said, after finding a picture. He then laughed at his own joke. I laughed too, internally.

"Hey! Don't fucking hate on my boyfriend! Fucking judgmental bitch." I responded without thinking.

"Woah, man, I'm joking, he's cute." He said, putting his arms up defensively.

"I know."

"But, anyway, how are you?" I asked.

"Not good. I'm actually really scared. I did something stupid and, and..." He stopped, suddenly. He started sniffling and I watched the bubbly, humorous facade fade away.

"Frank, are you crying?" I asked, walking over to him. His head was in his hands and I could hear his quiet sobs. Frank never cries. What the hell. My heart sank when I thought of the things he could be about to tell me.

"What's wrong? Frank?" My heart was pounding and I could've sworn it stopped when I heard what he said next.

"I think I might have HIV." He said. I couldn't help it when I started thinking about the future. I saw myself sitting by his bedside. He was sick, again. Another blood infection. His heartbeat was slow and his breaths weren't his own, he was on a breathing machine. It forced air in and out of his lungs, forcing artificial life in and out of him. This wasn't what his life was meant to be. Depending on a machine to survive. No, he was meant to be free, and loud, and happy. I missed the rowdy, reckless, and fun-loving Frank that died years ago. My mind was drawn back to reality when Frank spoke again.

"Jackson called me and told me that he had slept with someone else, that he cheated, that he'd found out the guy had it." Jackson was Frank's sleezy, unreliable, dirtbag boyfriend. I've always hated that piece of shit and now my best friend might have to face the consequences of his disgraceful actions.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie." I said, unable to process any other words.

"No, I knew he was cheating on me and I still had unprotected sex with him because I'm weak and I can't say no. I hate myself. I made a mistake but it wasn't my fault, was it?" He asked.

"No. Of course it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Jackson did."

"Okay." He replied. He was somewhere else, though, deep in his thoughts.

"When are you getting tested?" I questioned. It wouldn't be beneficial for him to put off getting it done, emotionally or health-wise.

Notes