Red Is The Warmest Colour

Time seemed to pass through that Sunday like it was nothing. I stayed in my room, drawing, listening to music, and going on my mobile.
I didn't usually get any notifications due to the fact I had about 6 friends, who always seemed to be busy; or just had better things to deal with than me.
One of my closest friends, Hayley, was one of the only friends who ever really liked me.
You probably know her, since you can usually spot her neon orange hair from a mile away.
My phone buzzed, and speak of the devil, it was Hayley.

Hey, sweet-cheeks.
I'm outside your apartment building now, so sneak out.
We're gonna have some fun tonight :)

I sighed.
I didn't want to, of course.
I looked at the time. 01:30. Wow.

How do you know I'm not in bed? I texted back.

Almost immediately, she replied.

I know you better than most people do, Frank.
You're not in bed.

I sighed again, shoving my phone and headphones into my pocket. I grabbed my denim jacket off of the back of my chair, slipping on my vans.
I didn't even bother to wonder what we were doing. I was fairly sure it involved alcohol.

I could spot her straight after walking out. She was leaning against a brick wall outside the apartment complex, hood up and leg brought up against the wall. I rolled my eyes.

"You look like a fucking break light with that hair, give up," I laughed, and she threw her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.

"Good to see you too, hun," She smiled, breaking away.

"So," I said, smiling back. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to a gay bar!" She jumped grinning.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Uh," I laughed nervously. "Why?"

"Because..." She swalllowed, still grinning. "I've never been to one before, and I want to."

***

What I didn't find surprising was the fact the bar was really more than a bar, but a nightclub.
A nightclub with an open roof and a lot of college students.
Hayley somehow met some other straight guy, and in about five minutes, had left me on my own. You would usually call that bad friendship, and it is, but she's been good to me, and I forgive her for these things.
I found myself leaning against a wall on my own, headphones plugged into ears, blasting aggressive and loud bands so I could drown out the terrible techno music blaring from the various speakers around the dim lit room.
People were dancing, having fun, drinking, all things I longed to do.
I felt someone poke me, and I jumped. Some guy was smiling at me.
I pulled my headphones out and stuffed them in my pockets, giving the guy a questioning look.

"Yes?" I asked awkwardly, my eyes wide.

"How old are you?" He shouted over the music.

"15," I replied, pursing my lips.

He looked me up and down, smiling to himself again.

"You want a good time, babe?"

I stepped away slightly, making a confused face. "No, thanks.."

He put a hand on my shoulder, leaning in far too close.
I squished my eyes closed, preparing for him to kiss me.
But to my surprise, he pulled back. I opened my eyes to see, wait..? What!? That red haired guy from that morning!?

"He's my cousin," He shouted in the guys ear. "Fuck off, perv."

The other guy nodded, walking away.
I must have looked incredibly shocked, seeing as though red-head laughed, crossing his arms.
I swallowed, avoiding eye contact. His eyes were a beautiful hazel. He looked me up and down. But not the way that other guy did. The type of way you take in a sight to behold. Or an astonishing piece of art.
I could feel my cheeks turn hot, and he smiled sympathetically.

"Gerard," He said, holding out a hand.

"Frank," I took his hand, shaking it.

"So," He said, leaning against the wall beside me. "We made serious eye contact while crossing that road."

"We did..." I didn't quite know what to say, seeing as though we were strangers.

"You're pretty cute, too," He said, taking a box of cigarettes out of his pocket.

My eyes widened, and my face went completely red.

"But-but that other boy-" I was cut off.

"Oh, from earlier? Nah, we're not really a thing. I doubt we ever will be, since his girlfriend is
pregnant." He smirked.

"Oh," I said quietly. I was almost disappointed.

I wanted more than anything at that moment for us to go our seperate ways.
I couldn't cheat on Emma. I couldn't. It wasn't fair.

"Listen, I.." I couldn't even finish my sentence.

But I didn't have a girlfriend. I didn't love her. I wasn't remotely attracted to her.
She was beautiful, but I wasn't.

"That girl with the orange hair you came in with just went into a disabled toilet with some guy," Gerard motioned, lighting his cigarette.

I wasn't surprised.

Notes