Fuck, You're a Riot

So, I basically just have a random, hot stranger in my car. Honestly, I'm not complaining. He's got a strong, sexy jawline and full cherry lips. He fills his pants very nicely, but he's definitely not overweight. Not that I'd be complaining if he was.
"You know," he says, "you're not in this alone, kid."
"I'm not a kid, " I respond, "I'm 19."
"Well, I'm 20, Frank, and I want to know you."
I'm screaming like a drunk fangirl inside. I try to keep my cool as best I can.
He continues, "I just got off, Frank. You feel like doing something cool?"
Okay. He's a prostitute or something, obviously. Is he?
"Would you want to go to the movies or something, Frank? I want you to enjoy your Halloween."
I stutter. "Uh, y-yes.''
Why would he want to go to the movies with me, when we just met? I didn't understand.
"Well, let's go." He says.
I start the car, half reluctant and half exited.

As we ride down the street, he takes out a pack of Camels and offers me one. I needed it.
"Yeah, thanks," I say, taking the lit stick from him. I took a drag while I was at the wheel.
We pulled into the theater, and we walked in together. Gerard payed for some made-for-TV movie and we got a seat at the back. This was very much like a date, but most couples don't meet at the parking lot of a McDonald's whilst one is purging their fucking guts up. I could laugh right now. I really could.
He goes to the concession stand and gets a popcorn. I tell him I didn't feel like snacks, so he could eat it instead. He looks me straight in the eyes.
"You're going to eat this fucking popcorn, kid." He winks.
"I'm not a kid!" I exclaim. We go back to our seats in the back.
Okay, so maybe I do have a problem. I was diagnosed with EDNOS at age 14. That's when I started binging and purging. And starving, and restricting. My highest weight was 130lbs, and now I've flickered down to 100.
But what ruined me was Bert. My ex-boyfriend. We lived together, and every day he would tell me how fat I was. Call me a whore, and hurt me. How he hurt me, exactly, I'd rather not explain. But I haven't been open about relationships ever since. That was a year ago, and since then I've been focused on work, and making myself look better. And now that I have no job, it's kind of pointless.
We sit through the movie. Eventually, it ends.
I drive back to my house, because neither of us says anything to the other.
We pull into my shitty little 1-bedroom. And I turn off the car.
"Can I come in?" He asks me.
"Sure, yeah, let's go." I say, sliding out of the front seat.
I unlock the front door, and grimace at the inside of it.
I keep the place relatively clean, because when Bert was here, it was always a mess. And I'm trying to forget about him ever being here.
It smells of bleach and Lysol, because I only just cleaned it this morning.
I point out the couch to Gerard and we make our way over to it. He plops down and gives me a goofy smile. I ate it all up, because his cute face practically radiated warmth.
"So, you throwing up in the parking lot of McDonald's? Let's talk about it." He says from the corner of his mouth.
Oh shit.
"Uh, yeah. I just, uh, wasn't feeling too good." I lied.
"I don't know you too well, Frank, but if I know one thing is that you and your body look great the way you are. You don't need to lose weight by hurting yourself, and trust me, even if you were 40 lbs heavier you'd still be fine as fuck. Got it?"
"Got it." I mutter back.
After a while, he asks another question that I will never forget.
"What's the story, morning glory?"
I stutter.
"Did you just fucking quote Oasis?" I ask.
"Yes, but the point is, what's your story?"
I sigh.
"My full name's Frank Anthony Iero, and I'm from Colorado Springs, Colorado. My parents brought me up Catholic, but I think that's total bullshit. I love them to death, but sometimes their punishments were too harsh for me. They called me fat when I ate too much. When I was fourteen, I tried killing myself. Took a bunch of my mom's anti-spasmatics and cut myself, really deep. In fact, I still have the scars on my thighs. And it didn't work out, so I went to a hospital up in Denver. It was liberating, and then they decided that they didn't want me anymore, and sent me to live with my grandparents instead of dealing with me. Yeah, I had problems, but they chose themselves over me, and I don't think I can forgive them for that. So when I turned 18, I did everything to spite them, and look where that got me."
I sigh again.
"Frank, that's tough. The worst thing I've ever had to deal with from my parents is not getting the exact model Telecaster for Christmas."
"I know, I've been told that a million times. And, you play guitar?" I ask him.
"I'm absolute shit at it, but yes, I do. Do you play, too?" He smiles in my direction.
Oh my God, he's perfect, he's hot AND he plays guitar, too. This is my lucky day.
I smile at him, too.
"Yes, in fact, I do."
And we continue on, smiling at each other like total idiots. I don't know what's gonna happen next with me and this stranger, or not-so-stranger, but I know it won't be boring.
Looking back, from that moment on, since meeting Gerard, I was never lonely again, which might've been the epitome of my life. Before, I couldn't help but think I'll die alone, but it turns out that I wouldn't.

Notes