Frankly

He tugged on the covers, the plaid pattern dimmed by the years of heavy washing and the tender yellow sheets filling him with soft warmth.

He needed sleep.

He needed to adjust to the feelings he just recently developed and to the pounding commotion in his chest.

It wasn’t the unnatural-ness of his feelings, just the sudden understanding and freakish surprise.

Fransisco felt helpless and slightly deceived by his brain, which must have hid the thoughts so cleverly till the realization bombed.

Ridiculous, it seemed. Awake at 2 am and grimacing at memories that had a moment ago held a different significance.

Angst marred his features, his long nose thinning and the shadow under his eyes deepening.

How had this suddenly happened?

How could it have been friendship one day and stolen breath the next?

What had he missed all this time?

What had he looked over all those millions of moments where the spark never lit?

He closed his eyes and flared his nostrils in an attempt to control his breathing.

Tomorrow may be different.

A clean slate, a new start.

But in truth, nothing would change for the sake of new.

Absolutely nothing.

Fall had severed the ties of the trees and leaves, balding them and carpeting the lawns and sidewalks; the blue sky hidden by the bright sun and lacking wind that produced new bundles of decaying greenery.

He sat on the swing on the porch of the house; the tips of his sneakers perked up and his heels swayed him back and forth, his hands hidden in the pockets of the overgrown corduroy jacket with leather cuffs and hood.

He hissed to watch every now and then the plume of smoky air that escaped his lips.

It was distracting at least.

He could hear the back door swinging open and closed, the footsteps crunching the dead leaves and the sound of movement dying along with it in the distance.

A few minutes ago his mom had entered his room to wake him, to greet him with a kiss and an anxious face.

But it hadn’t worked out that way.

She took one glance at the piled clothing on the top of his wooden trunk placed under the window, and woke him to instead stiffly complain how much of a sloth he was and at what extent he was willing to vegetate before growing up.

He had growled at her “Fine” and “Okay, I get it.” to get her to shut up and leave him alone, but it only heated the monologue even more.

In the end she left his room with a saddened expression of what a failure of a being he’d managed to make of himself.

He lay on the bed seconds afterward before tearing the sheets and comforter off and pulling on his woolen sweater and large coat.

It was fresh outside and the chilled pores on his face were relieved from the aching headache that ticked from the night before.

Everything seemed clear but still too confusing.

Any possible explanations unable to be formed by words, barely coherent thoughts.

“Yo, Frank? You alright, man?”

Frank blinked at the blurred vision of the porch floor and the boards solidified in shape. He didn’t need to look up, knowing exactly who the voice belonged to.

“Hey, Phil.”

Phil climbed up the steps, standing before Frank in muddy leather boots, camouflage pants and a black hoodie. “You look bad, man. Maybe you should go back inside.”

Frank bit back his tongue and his glare scoured the floor instead of Phil.

“I’m fine.”

Phil stood straight, his stance virile. “Uhuh, well I figured you’d be just as bored as me. Thought I’d come by to watch some TV together or something.”

Frank’s glare softened as did his voice. “Not today, Phil.”

“What? You plannin’ heading to the library? I don’t mind, I’ve been meaning to check out some more of those new batman comics they’ve got now. We can ask my mom to give us a ride, that way we only have to take the bus on our way back.”

Frank looked up at Phil with a placid face.

The silence was strange.

“Frank, you sure you ok?”

“No, no I’m not. I couldn’t sleep very well last night and my mom woke me up ranting.”

Phil grinned and chewed on his thumbnail. “Well, then come over my house. Sleep in my bed and that way your mom can’t say shit.”

Frank’s throat constricted. “Phil, I gotta talk to you about something. I’m….I’m really confused right now, and I feel like I need to let you know.”

“Your scaring me, man. Just spill already.” Phil snickered.

Frank sighed and rubbed his face aggressively. “No, trust me. It’s better if we talk about this somewhere else.”

Frank could see Phil’s boots coming closer. “That bad?”

“I dunno.” He said quietly, “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Frank, don’t tell me your saying what I think your saying?” Phil’s voice chilled with anxiety.

“Phil. Shut the fuck up and wait till I tell you what I need to before you start acting like a pussy.” Frank stood up, his jaw hardened. “Come on, let’s go to the orchard to talk.”

Phils face had meshed into suspicion and fear. His thick eyebrows drawn together and the curves at the end of his lips dipping. But without saying anything, he followed after Frank already making his way across the street.

The orchard was a ring of trees with a swing set and a sand box in the middle. It was equally a block away from both their houses, convenient and nice with the golden leaves crowning the pale bark.

Phil and Frank sat side by side on the wooden frame of the sand box, feet dug in as small heaps of sand.

Frank leaned his torso on his knees.

“So…You gonna tell me or what?” Phil growled loudly.

Frank glanced at him, pale and wind tangling his dark curly hair. “I realized something yesterday. I’m…this is difficult. I spent all night about it and it still doesn’t make sense.” He sighed weakly.

Phil breathed in raggedly, “Frank,please,PLEASE don’t tell me your gay. Please.”

Frank’s eyes flickered over him and then turned to search the sand. “No, I’m not.”

Phil sighed in relief and patted Frank’s back breaking out into dry laughter. “You had me freaking out there, buddy!”

“But, Phil,” Frank continued softly.

Phil’s hand stilled mid blade.

“I…Aww fuck, just promise you won’t hit me, alright?”

Phil’s hand dropped and he leaned closer.

Frank’s jaw twitched and he sniffed with resolution.

“I…like you.”

“What?” Phil whispered, tensing.

“I like you, Phil.” Frank buried his head in his crossed arms.

“But…” Phil’s lips trembled as his eyes widened. “But you said you weren’t gay!” he yelled with distress.

“And I’m not!” Frank yelled back angrily.

“Then what the hell do you mean you like me?” Phil stood, spraying sand everywhere.

Frank glared at him openly. “It’s not the same.”

“You’re a freaking fag, Frank! Your telling me you like me, that makes you gay!” Phil hissed while pointing at Frank angrily.

Frank stood up, brushing the grains of sand from his pants and stepped out, his face frozen with upset. “Fuck you, Phil. Forget I said anything.”

He began to walk back to the street.

Phil touched his forehead in confusion. “Frank, wait. Seriously, what do you mean?”

Frank turned around and looked at Phil hard.

“I’m not gay, I don’t like men.”

“Then what the fuck am I?” Phil screamed with exasperation.

Frank hesitated, looking at the toe of his shoes. “I like you. Not your sex.”

Phil was gaping and Frank’s eyebrows curved. “Look, Its not like I made it my wish to Santa, alright? I still think chicks are hot and playboy mags still turn me on…but this thing I feel for you...” He breathed, searching for words and rubbing his face. “Remember Anne? Like Anne. That’s what I feel for you, what I felt for Anne.”

Phil’s face had crest fallen and looked less anguished. “Anne, my brother’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Phil rubbed his nose in thought. “So dudes don’t turn you on?”

“No.” Frank replied with a stern expression.

“Then,” Phil sat down at a bus stop’s bench. “What exactly…Jesus, Frank, How am I supposed to react to this?” He covered his face with his hands.

“Dude, if I had these kind of feelings towards you, I’d think you’d want to know about it but honestly, I hadn’t thought on your reaction cuz I was too busy freaking out for mine!”

“What do you mean?” Phil mumbled against his fingers.

“Phil, believe it or not, I don’t really enjoy thinking like this, I just do. And you just happened to- how do you say, float my boat?” Frank retorted sardonically.

“Eww, dude, don’t say it like that.” Phil lamented weakly into hi hands.

“Sorry, but I really thought you needed to know.”

Silence followed with a gust of wind.

“I don’t think I can act like nothing’s happened, Frank.” Phil peered at him.

Frank shrugged and kicked at the grayed grass. “I don’t know what to tell you about that.”

Phil rolled his eyes and stood up wobbly, putting a hand again to his forehead. “Thanks. Does, um, anyone else know?”

Frank snorted. “Yeah fucking right, if you’re my best friend and you thought I was a faggot, imagine my parents or even the other guys?”

Phil sighed, nodding. “Your right, better they don’t anyways.”

Frank looked him over. “We gonna hang out?”

“To tell you the truth, I think I need to go home and get some rest. This news hasn’t settled all that well in me yet.”

Frank nodded, frowning. “But we’re still friends, right?”

Phil looked up at him startled. “Man, I don’t even know, look, I’ll come visit you tomorrow or call you or something. I gotta go.” Finishing his sentence, Phil zigzagged around him and out the park. Frank stood there looking down at the maple stump before him.

It didn’t make sense to him, why should it to Phil?