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Mibba

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Touched by Demons, though I fall into grace.

Stocker Boy

The last time I woke up to a kiss on the lips was 2007, I'm guessing. Wait--Scratch that. Right now was the last time I woke up to a kiss on the lips. Coincidentally, 'Right now' is 25 years before 2007.
Frank's hand delicately graces over my cheek, and he leans further into the kiss. I drape my arms around his neck, playfully nipping at his lip. He takes it as a challenge and pulls at my bottom lip, staring me dead in the eyes. I shiver, and he pulls away ever so slightly.
"I wanna give you a hickie so bad right now, but we have work in an hour," He mumbles, longingly gazing at my neck.
"Do it," I command, "I don't care about what other people think."
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
He reaches his hand behind my neck and gently kisses a patch of skin. I quietly moan, allowing my eyelids to shut for a brief period. That is, until, he begins sucking on a spot just to the left my Adam's apple, and my eyes flood open. A high-pitched groan escapes my throat.
He runs his hand down my thigh, reminding me of the baggy short-shorts I threw on as pajamas, (I wear boxer briefs). After two minutes of moans and licks, he pulls off with a dirty pop.
I take in a few breaths, before looking at him with excitement. "That... was... amazing!"
"It's my specialty," He jokes.
He sits up and moves off of my lap, and I mirror his actions. "Oh; it's pretty high. I don't think you'll be able to hide it with a jacket or anything." He observes, tilting his head a bit. I rub my neck, smiling at him.
"How bad can it be? It's not like everyone is homophobic in 1972." I smile, shaking my hair out of my face.
"Gee. In my life, I've met exactly 5 people who are okay with gay people. My last three boyfriends, Jordan, and you. Even if we were to... y'know, have sex, it wouldn't even be legal!"
"No way!"

"Yes, way. I've committed several misdemeanors. But is 2007 really that progressive?"

"Well, we aren't allowed to marry yet. But I lived in Canada for most of my life, and that's been legal since 2005."
"Ah, I see," He says, standing up. "Come on. Let's have some breakfast."
- - -

As a stocker, I spend most of the day in the back room, sorting records. So I can talk pretty freely when employees decide they need a break from customers. Sometimes it's not such a good thing.
"Hey, Gerard," Eric says as he walks in, sipping on a beer. "Before you say anything, I know that we aren't supposed to have any alcohol on the job, but please don't mention it to the boss man or Jordan. They scare the living shit out of me."
I laugh, swapping Elton John and The Eagles. "That's nothing compared to the other things I see back here. Micheal, Jack, and Marisa were smoking some 'oregano' in here earlier. I have dirt on everyone in here."
"Oh yeah? What about Mia?" He asks.
I glance around, making sure no one is listening. "She has a stash of cigarettes hidden everywhere in here."
"Interesting. What about Frank?"
I sigh. I don't want to make Frank angry, but I also want to make a good impression with Eric. He might actually be a pretty cool friend!
"Alright. This is top secret, but he had dreadlocks when he was 19. And they were blond!"
That's actually true: He told me the other night when we were watching The Rookies. He even pulled out an old black-and-white picture from 1966. You couldn't see the blond in the photo, but you didn't have to. You just knew!
"I got some dirt on you, Gerard." He says, leaning on the table.
"I find that impossible. I rarely talk or leave this room."
"That hickie on your neck says otherwise."
I gasp, reaching up to cover it. "Is it really that obvious?" I mumble, glancing down.
"Yeah. It even bobs up and down when you swallow."
"Oh, God..." I say.
"So. Who's the girl?"
"Uh... Her name is... er... Frankie." I improvise.
"Nice! Good luck with her, dude."
He pats me on the back, and I flinch. That was a bit of a close call. It's a good thing that I had a talk about homophobia with Frank this morning. He probably would'a punched me on the spot if he found out I'm bi. I bet most people in 1972 don't even know what that is!
- - -
Lunch. Work. More work. Skip to the interesting stuff.

"Tell me where we're going!"
"No."
"We've been driving for half an hour!" I mock-gasp, covering my mouth, "Are you taking me to a remote area to kill me? I should'a known!"
"Yeah. I'm gonna slit your throat open and eat your insides."
"Kinky."
"Oh, shut up."

We break out in a fit of giggles, Let It Be by the Beatles soundtracking our lives. Once we got home from work, he locked my car door, put a blindfold over my eyes and ran inside. A few minutes later he ran back outside, threw a basket in the trunk, and hopped back in the front seat. He didn't give me any explanation whatsoever and still refuses to. Putting up with his bullshit is a talent that I've been blessed with.
He dials the radio's volume down, turning onto an unpaved road. "I wanted to do something special for us. This was the only place I could think of that wouldn't have anyone nearby."

He actually thought this all out? I barely knew how to get to my job back in 2007: Lindsey would always drive us. But Frank knows how to get places, and who hangs out there? He must have been living here for years.
"And... We are here!"
He twists and pulls his keys out of the ignition, unlocking the doors. "This is a forest," I state, getting out of the car and looking around. The sun just barely shines through the summer leaves, and it creates a beautiful scene that I would photograph if I could.
"I know just what you're thinking." He says, linking his fingers with mine. "Here." I feel him press a camera into my hands, and I look at him with astonishment.
"How did you--?"
"I know you so well." He stands on his tip-toes to kiss my cheek, and I blush, fumbling with the camera.
"Back in the day," I say, holding the camera up, "We had these cameras that would let you print them right out. It would develop in a few minutes. Or you could just print it out with a computer."
"A computer? Print? Is that even English?"
"I forgot how technologically behind the 70s are. A computer is a thing--"
"--Technologically?"
"I'll explain."
I hand the camera back to him, and he discards it in his basket. He takes my hand again and leads me down a trail.
"A computer is like a box. Pretty much the World Book Encyclopedia, but you just write anything you want, and it will give you pages of information on it. You can't move the box, though; you have to keep it plugged into the wall. Printing is where you get an image on the computer and a different box will put it on a piece of paper.
"Technology is like a bunch of types of computers. Tiny ones--like record players--that play music. You can fit them in your pocket, and play any song that you want. Portable phones that you can make calls and send emails on. A lot of shit has happened."
"No way. You can't make a record player that small." He says, holding up his hand and drawing his fingers about 3 inches apart.
I laugh, squinting my eyes a bit. "It's called an iPod, and it just plays music. It's like a metal rectangle with buttons on it. You can play any song you want."
"That is insane. You should draw some of this stuff for me. I can't imagine what it's like to have music with you wherever you go."

"It's amazing."
He sits down, patting the space beside him. "Sit. The sun is setting."
And sure enough, it is. I sit down next to him, leaning my head onto his shoulder. He smooths my hair down, kissing my hairline. The sun gives his skin a beautiful golden tint, bringing out the hazel in his eyes. The clouds glow with a pink aura, blue and red bringing out the brightest parts. But instead of watching the amazing sunset, I turn my eyes to the gorgeous man that I've grown to admire.
"You're really pretty," I say, goofily smiling up at him.
"Oh, I haven't heard!" He jokes, resting his hand on the nape of my neck. He leans in for a kiss, to which I happily accept. It's not as much passionate as it is affectionate. I enjoy the bliss that we share for a moment before leaning back a bit, disconnecting the kiss.
"I got food." He smiles, opening the picnic basket and setting a few Tupperware containers down. I notice a potato salad and coleslaw. "Sorry that there's no "real" food. This is the only vegetarian food I could think of that would taste good cold." He takes off the lids, then hands me a fork.
"No, I love coleslaw." I smile, taking a bite and smiling. "And that reminds me. I've been thinking of going vegetarian. Seeing as we live together, I barely eat any meat anyways. Anything I should know? Strings attached?"
"Yes! I've been subliminally trying to get you to change. Last night, I whispered the word vegetarian into your ear at midnight. The fact that we sleep in separate rooms doesn't stop me." He eats a slice of potato.

"I actually think I remember that. I had a dream that I was throwing away a burger and getting a carrot? I don't know what it meant but I remember it vividly."
"Good." He says, "Open up."
I question him momentarily but obey, raising an eyebrow. He stabs a potato and sticks his fork in my mouth. I swallow, giggling more than I should. "You... Are so cliche."
"I'm glad that you noticed."
We spent the evening eating, kissing, and smiling, as you do. Emphasis on the kissing aspect of the night. But, as it must, the stars rose, and the purple clouds turned gray.
The best part of a field miles away from civilization is the stars. In New Jersey, Wisconsin, and Canada, I could never see the stars. But here, with no lights, no electronics, no pollution, I can perfectly see the stars (and maybe a few planets, too!).
Frank wraps his arm around me, kissing my cheek. We've been laying down on a blanket he packed for at least 20 minutes. Just looking. No talking, just smiling and gazing at the stars.
It's getting late; and when I get tired, I start acting drunk. I don't mean to, but it's some sort of primal instinct that was built into my nervous system. I found out the hard way when I was at a friends sleepover, in 7th grade. Long story short: I tried to make out with three of the guys there.
"So... Wwana sleep toge-etherrr toniyght?" I slur, trying to blink... sexily? Anyways, I probably ended up looking like an idiot.
"Gerard. We've known each other for three weeks. We've been dating for two. Aren't we going a little fast?"
"Mmm... Buzzzzz ki-kill." I say, tilting my head. "Ca-Can we at least... Liyke... Uhmmm! Sleep together but no ssex?"
"Of course. But why are you acting like this? If I didn't know any better I'd think that you'd had a bottle of Scotch."
"Nah, I stopped that stuff ages ago. Like '01! I'm just... Tirrrred."
"You sure are acting it. Come on. I'll help you up."
He stands up, towering over me and holding his hand out.
"Wo-ho! You're super tall!" I say, reaching up for his hand. He takes it, pulling me off of the ground. I stumble forward, falling onto him. "Oops..." I mumble, wrapping my arms around him.
"You're like 7 inches taller than me." He says, and I look down at him. Or, rather, at the top of his head.
"Woah. Why are yooou the dominant one in this relationship?" I giggle, glancing at his ass as he bends down to put the blanket in the basket, then slings it over his shoulder.
"Because you're a submissive little shit." He laughs and begins leading me back to the car (I'm guessing? I can't think straight). "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm tired. And full. Annnnnd! When the duo gets togetherr, I ac-a-ac-ACT! Like this." I stutter on the c's.
"Ah. So this has happened before?"
"Yep!"
"Well, here we are."

Frank opens the back car door, pushing me inside. Ah, so we are going to the car! Oh-wait. We're already here.

"We're gonna sleep in the back seat, and roll into work tomorrow with terrible hair and clothes. And we're gonna rock it." He says, climbing in beside me, and collapsing the seats. He pulls out the blanket and sets it aside, pulling me out of my seat and collapsing it.
"This is sweeeet." I smile as he throws the blanket over us.
"Just like you." He boops the end of my nose, giving me a sudden urge to make out with him. So, I do.
I reach over, resting my hand on his cheek and pulling him forward. I'm about to kiss him when he pushes himself away. "You're acting weird. I don't really feel comfortable kissing you when you're practically drunk."
"But Fraaank!" I whine, pulling myself closer to him. "I want this!"

"Maybe you do now. But, I promise you, you'll be glad that I did this in the morning."
"Ugh. Ffffine." I groan, turning away from him. He snuggles up close, wrapping an arm around me and resting his chin in the crook of my neck.
"G'night." He whispers, kissing my cheek.

I sigh, giving in to his touches, "G'night."

Notes

so yeah this is a chapter. thats literally all i have to say. but uhhh.... as the boys talked abt sex a bit in this chapter,,,, if they ever do the sexy stuff then should i include it in the book? maybe ill do it but make it a whole different chapter,,, uh comment and say cuz idk lol

i feel like in the notes/an im so much more myself. yknow. skskskksks uh in some of my writing its like a masterpiece about sound and then theres this. written in 30 seconds. ok bye now
SHIT THERES A CENTIPEDE IN MY ROOM IM FINNA DIEEEE

Comments

HELLO EMOS
its me, xoxocass. mcrfanfic isnt letting me log in using tumblr at the moment, so i will be using this acc which i made with a fake email. until mcrfanfic fixes this issue, i will continue updating on this account. please check it out! i didnt die!
-cass

xoxocass2 xoxocass2
7/4/19

Awwwww

cKayE cKayE
6/11/19

@xoxocass
That sounds interesting. xD

Frankie Boy. Frankie Boy.
5/15/19

@Frankie Boy.
yikes. i never get reoccuring dreams, i just get the same types. like one night i'll build an airplane in a field, the next i'll discover a broken airplane and try to fix it, the next i'll be flying on an airplane over the ocean, its kinda weird

xoxocass xoxocass
5/15/19

I have had a reoccurring dream since I was about seven where I'm somewhere and both of my brother's are locked in some ice boxes, still alive, I'm in a room in handcuffs and there's a man who says he's going to kill me then it flips to me being in the kitchen of my parents old house, I'm there with my mom asking for her help but she never answers me. I usually wake up at that point every time.

Frankie Boy. Frankie Boy.
5/14/19