Frank & Menno

2.
Six in the morning, and it was still raining. It was cooler now too. Frank had the best night since weeks. As he waited for the gate to open, he tried to see if Menno was waiting for him. He wasn't. Surprised and disappointed, he drove into the street.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Frank stepped on the brake when he heard the yell. Menno yanked the door open, and jumped inside. “I was waiting inside! I didn't want to make your chair wet again... Dammit, I almost missed you! I would have to run all the way to the station and I would've been late for work...”

“Easy, handsome, easy... It's too early to ramble. Jeesh! How much coffee did you have?” Frank drove off, glancing at Menno. The younger man gained his breath, frowning, apparently completely frozen up again. “It's cooler today,” began Frank to break the silence. “Did you sleep well?”

“No. I couldn't sleep at all.” Menno didn't look at Frank, and went quiet again.

“Were you worried about work?” tried Frank.

“Yes,” answered Menno too quickly. “Work, yes. Tim and all, you know? Say, I won't be driving with you this afternoon. I have to get some groceries.”

“We'll just stop at a supermarket on the way,” shrugged Frank. “I could do with some stuff myself.” It was Saturday tomorrow, and Frank always got everything he needed in the weekend, but he was out of milk.

“I don't want to be a burden...”

For someone who obviously didn't like to talk about himself, Menno showed a lot of emotions. Frank glanced at the other again, and shook his head. “You're a strange boy, Menno,” he mumbled. The rest of the ride went by in complete, uncomfortable silence. He was glad their paths parted.

The whole day, Frank's mind wandered while he worked. He thought about the blonde, like he had done the evening before; trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Perhaps Menno already figured him out? It would explain the hostility, and the unwillingness to become friendly with him. Most straight men were uncomfortable around gays, he had leaned. They always seemed scared to be seduced, or something. Frank didn't really understand how those men worked.

He expected to go home alone, that evening, but Menno had been waiting for him. Really, Frank didn't get him...

“It's dry,” said Menno as he stepped into the car. He even smiled, although his eyes didn't participate. “That's good, isn't it? I mean... with the game tonight and all?”

“Game...?” Frank blinked, and realized there would be a majorly important soccer game that evening. “Oh yes, the game. Are you going to watch it?”

“Of course.” Menno laughed. It sounded slightly nervously, in Frank's ears. “Soccer. Wow. Heh.”

“You hate it,” smirked Frank, looking at the other for a moment.

Menno sighed, glancing at him. “Yes,” he said under his breath. “Do you like it?”

“Hm...” For a while, Frank thought it over. “No,” he eventually confessed. “I don't like soccer. I rather watch a good movie, or read a book.”

“Oh, good.” Menno sighed again, relieved this time. “I was afraid you would lecture me or something.” He relaxed visibly. “What kind of movies do you like?”

As he stopped at a traffic light, Frank could give Menno a longer look. He wondered why the boy lied about liking soccer, but at the same time he understood perfectly well. The only time he ever told the men he didn't like sport, he learned that was a big mistake. Straight men liked sport, especially soccer. At least, in this city they did. “I like animations,” he finally answered, keeping a close eye on Menno's response. To his pleasure, the boy's eyes lit up.

“Oh! Like Ice Age and such?” Menno beamed at him, no longer closing himself off for him. “I love those movies! But I also like detectives, with suspense and so on, and good ghost movies. They give me the chills. I still have a few I didn't watch yet.”

Frank noticed Menno liked to talk, as long as he could be honest. He was a terrible liar, apparently. He quite liked that. “We have the same taste, I believe... Do you read fantasy novels? I do. The bigger the better. I'm looking forward to the winter.”

“You do?” Menno said passionately. “Me too... I love to sit on the sofa, with blankets and fluffy socks, reading and drinking tea all day, listening to wind outside... Summer isn't romantic at all.”

Romantic? Frank bit his tongue as he drove into the parking lot of the supermarket. Years of hiding himself had taught him to place remarks at proper moments. Now it seemed inappropriate, with Menno relaxing and showing more about himself.

They took one cart, and went inside. Frank walked straight to the milk. The blonde followed, gnawing his bottom lip. “I don't know what to eat, tonight,” he said with a slight whine.

“Well, what do you like?” helped Frank. “Do you cook at all?”

“Oh, yes. I love to cook... I mean, I don't mind cooking.” The blonde grinned a bit, averting his eyes. “You can eat only so many pizzas, I believe,” he mumbled.

Menno was keeping up appearances. Frank couldn't help but comparing it to how he acted all the time. The boy was just less experienced. “Do you like pancakes...?” he said, to see how the other would react.

“Oh, pancakes...” Menno sighed passionately, like he'd done before. “I love pancakes. With bacon and pineapple and syrup... Damn, now I have a graving for pancakes.”

Frank laughed. “Eggs, then. And flour.”

“Here's the bacon. I'll get a tin with pineapple slices, and we need syrup and cheese...” Menno darted through the store, getting everything he needed for pancakes.

Frank followed him with his eyes, wondering if he heard it correctly. Menno had said 'we'. When the blonde returned, arms full with groceries, he gave him a careful smile. “Alright, that's everything I believe. Only one question remains.”

“What's that?”

“Your place, or mine...?”

Menno looked up, slowly. His lips became a stripe, and Frank's heart skipped a beat. Mistake. He just made a big, big mistake. But Menno narrowed his eyes, observing him for a long time. “Yours,” he finally said. “I'll shower, change, and come to your place.”

Breathing out, Frank tried to look normal. “Bring one of your movies with you, hm?”

“Yes...” Eyes still glued on Frank's, Menno nodded slowly. “Pancakes and a movie. Okay. No problem.”

“No problem, indeed. Hum.”

“So... Let's get out of here and go home.”

“Yes. Let's get out of here.” And go home. With Menno. To have pancakes, and watch a movie. Frank nodded, pushing the car forward. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

As much as Menno had thawed before, as tense as he was now. Frank drove in silence, focusing on the other traffic, wondering if it was a good idea after all. As he stopped at the flat, Menno opened the door. “I'll only take a moment,” he said. “Don't start without me. I mean with the pancakes.” He quickly ran across the street, without looking back.

Frank parked the car. Poor Menno, he thought. If his suspicions were right, the boy was keeping the same secret as he. And he was terrible at lying, unlike Frank. But... Menno, gay? Was he really? Or just immature, and trying to look older?

Just in case it would become an awkward evening, Frank jacked off under the shower. And a second time. After all, Menno was gorgeous, and being alone with him would stir up his loins even if he didn't want it to. He dressed up in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and went to the kitchen to prepare for the pancakes. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.

“Hi. Welcome...” Frank stepped aside to let Menno in. The boy had also dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, and he carried a plastic bag. He walked into the apartment.

“Damn, you have a corner...”

“What?” Frank laughed surprised, following inside. “You mean a corner apartment? Yeah. It's one of the bigger flats, with two bedrooms.”

“Two bedrooms? And look at the size of the living room! And you have an open kitchen! All those windows! Hm.” Menno pouted, crossing his arms. “I'm jealous now.”

“I can see that,” chuckled Frank. “Sit down, you. Would you like a beer?”

“Depends on the brand. Oh wow, what a great sofa... Hello, cat.” Menno lifted the sleepy cat, put him aside, and sat down. Bart simply curled up again, to continue his nap.

“That's Bart,” said Frank. “Do you like this beer?” As Menno nodded, he opened two bottles, and brought it with him. He joined him on the sofa, pushing the other cat aside. “Cheers, lad.”

“I brought a few movies with me,” said Menno after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Maybe you should see if you like them.”

Obediently, Frank opened the bag. A few animations, a horror movie, a detective and a science fiction movie. He'd seen a few of them. “Nice,” he commented. “I haven't seen these. We could start with an animation and end with horror?”

“Sounds good...” Again, there was silence. Menno stared at the interior, looking at anything but Frank, apparently uneasy to start a conversation.

“So, Menno,” started Frank. They had to talk, right? Even when men didn't talk much. “Why are you single?” If that didn't stir up things, he didn't know what would do it.

“What?” Menno looked up at him, frowning. “Why?”

Frank shrugged. “You're young, handsome... You're attractive and all, so...”

“Attractive?” Smirking, Menno sipped his beer. “I guess I just didn't meet the ehm... the right one, yet.”

“What's the right one for you, then?” Oh, this was so wrong. Frank knew he was trotting on thin ice. He was tap dancing, even. But he still couldn't stop.

“The right one for me. Hm. I like...” Menno cleared his throat, shifting a bit. “I like tattoos and muscles, sweet and caring, but a tad dominant and a spark of aggressiveness. That's what I like.” Defensively, he looked at Frank.

Frank stared back at him. When he realized his jaw had dropped, he quickly closed his mouth. “You're not talking about women,” he said, with a croak.

“No, I'm not. Should I leave now...?” Menno pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, still with that defensive frown.

“No...” Shaking his head, Frank tried to get a grip. “Stay. Uhm... You er... you surprise me. I'd never thought... Shit, you're gay?” There was a god, after all!

“Yes. Been gay ever since I remember. Don't worry, I won't jump at you. I promise.” Playing with his now empty bottle, the blonde averted his eyes. “You are muscled, tattooed, and handsome. But you're straight, so no matter how sweet you seem, you're not my type.”

“You...” Frank wanted to yell he was gay, but years of hiding in the closet kept him from coming out so spontaneously. “Okay,” he mumbled. “More beer?”

“Yeah.” When Frank returned, Menno looked at him again. “So... why are you single? What are you looking for?”

“I eh... I like a bit softer, really. Sweet, homey, romantic... I guess that... yes, that just about sums it up.” Vague enough, he thought.

“Softer. As in hips and tits? I'm just trying to understand...” Menno added quickly.

“No, as in behavior. I like muscles, but I don't like to be dominated.” He saw how the gray eyes widened, and how Menno's jaw dropped in turn. “I dream of a soft, round, firm bum,” he murmured, blushing. It was the first time he ever said it, and it should feel good to come clear, but it felt awkward. “You can still leave, if you want to.”

“I don't think I want to,” breathed Menno. “Not before I know if you're telling the truth...”

“I am telling the truth. I've never been so truthful in my life.” Frank put down his bottle, and stood up. “I'm going to make the pancakes. Do you want to help?”

“Yes...” Menno quickly followed him, standing closer to Frank than he'd done before. “Say it, Frankie,” he said softly, running a hand along the man's arm. “I have to know for sure.”

With a sigh, Frank closed his eyes. He shook his head, slowly. “I haven't come out, Menno,” he said, just as softly. “But yeah, I'm gay. You can be yourself, around me. No worries, hm?”

Licking his lips, Menno searched for words. His hand was still rubbing gently along Frank's arm, apparently thoughtlessly. He stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing. “Yeah. No worries,” he said quietly.

It was tempting to turn and grab him, but Frank didn't do it. The fact they were the only gays in their man's world, didn't mean they were meant to be together. “Mix the batter,” he said. “I'll set the table.”

“Okay. Yes. Good.” Menno nodded, but he didn't move. “You're beautiful,” he suddenly blurted, blushing abruptly.

Frank smiled in front of him. “Menno,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder, “so are you.”