.ŵēłçømē tø bēłłēvīłłē hīgh. // frerard [DISCONTINUED]

11

You're not my daddy,

And I'm not your dolly,

And your dictionary's destroyed.

TW // smoking

Tuesday 4th April 2007

"U-umm, Gee...?" I said, feeling myself blush.

He turned around suddenly and placed his hands on the edge of the counter behind him. "Frankie! I-I, umm..."

"It's ok," I cut him off, knowing that he was talking about his attire.

He looked me up and down, examining me in detail during our few minutes of silence and I felt myself blush even harder as I fiddled with my tattooed hands. I heard him chuckle, breaking the silence, "Frankie, you have food on your shirt!"

"Oh, uh, y-yeah I know." Why did I have to be so goddamn awkward?! I hated that! "I didn't bring any spare clothes with me because I didn't think I'd be staying the night..." I said quietly, rubbing my arm. "C-can I use one of your's please, Daddy--" My eyes widened as I cut myself off by smacking my hand over my mouth and looked up at him only to see him smirk in response.

"Does little Frankie have a Daddy kink?" I know he heard me. He was teasing me and I couldn't tell if I loved it or hated it.

"Can I just, umm, b-borrow a shirt please?"

"Of course, pumpkin," he replied, making me blush even more if that was even possible.

He walked out of the kitchen and took hold of my hand, leading me into the corridor and down the stairs to his basement room.

I sat down on the end of his bed and watched as he best over and searched for a good enough shirt for me to wear. "You like Thursday, right?"

"Yup!" I replied.

He tossed a grey shirt with Thursday's band logo on the front and this year's tour dates on the back. I took off my current shirt and I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn't realise that Gee had already turned back to face me and was blushing slightly, the pink tint in his cheeks made blatantly obvious due to the pasty white colour of his skin that I adored oh so much.

His eyes were scanning over me rather slowly and his mouth left agape. His gaze then met mine and he said sounding rather astounded, "y-your tattoos... you have so many... Frankie, you're body is literally a masterpiece..."

I suddenly felt very self-conscious at the fact that he was looking at me in such detail. I didn't like that he had called me a "masterpiece".

I did but I didn't.

I did because it was amazingly poetic and I loved him. However, I also didn't like it because, even though he didn't mean for it to be that way, I felt as if he had objectified me. Like I was there to be used for the inked artwork engraved into my skin. Nothing more, nothing less.

I slipped on the shirt in one quick motion then lifted my arms to shoulder height, looking down at my body and giggling slightly.

"Awh, sweetie, it's far too big for you. Want me to get you ano--"

"No! No no no, this one is just perfect." I could smell his scent on the shirt; cigarettes, coffee and his cheap cologne.

"Gee, what time is it?"

"7:55-ish."

"Gee, we gotta get to school!"

"Chill out! I don't leave until 8:30." He said, flopping down onto his back in the space beside me.