Taking Back the Life You Stole

Chapter 2

Two and a half hours didn't seem like nearly enough when his alarm started blaring at him. He didn't fight it, though, because if he admitted how bad he felt, Ray wouldn't let him go to work. So he bit his lip, hissed in a breath, and got out of bed. For some reason, looking in the mirror just made him feel worse, his skin looked pale, and the bags under his eyes seemed worse than usual. He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged his hands over his face, hoping it would bring some color into his face. He knew Ray was going to ask if he was okay the second he stepped out of his room, so he tried to waste as much time as possible. Eventually, he trudged out of his room and shuffled to the kitchen. He hadn't eaten all day and the nausea was starting to rise from his stomach.

The cabinets in the kitchen were filled with boxes of various non-perishables, but most of that belonged to Ray as well. Frank pulled out a box of cereal he bought last week and poured himself a bowl. It wasn't much of a meal, but at least it was his food. Frank sat at one of the three odd chairs at the folding table they called a dining table. He kept his back facing the living room so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with Ray while he was eating.

Ray wasn't a bad guy, in fact, he was a great guy, one of the best people Frank had ever met. Frank thought that at times he was almost too nice, because he knew he could never repay him for everything he had done. There was something playing on the TV in the other room, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. There was a laugh track. He finished his dinner, even if he didn't really think he could call it that. He still had half an hour before work, and he couldn't lie and say he was leaving early because he was worried about traffic, on account of it being next door... and him not having a car. The legs of the chair scraped roughly against the floor as he got up. He rinsed his bowl and just left it in the sink to deal with later. Dishes weren't really in it right now. The sound on the TV stopped and the sound of footsteps started making their way to the kitchen. A chair squeaked against the floor and he allowed himself one more deep breath before turning around to face Ray, sitting backward on a chair, a worried look pressed on his lips.

"What's up, man?" Frank said casually, leaning his weight back until the counter.

Ray seemed to be staring into Frank's soul like he could see how terrible he felt. "Are you sure you're okay to go to work tonight?"

Frank looked down at his hands. The black nail polish was chipped, but that never bothered him too much. It always looked worse when he still played guitar. Ray was still looking pointedly at him, so he eventually had to look back up and say something. "I'm fine, see?" A lie, "I'm standing. The nap really helped." Another lie.

Ray nodded, slowly, "Okay, but I'll be waiting up for you, so don't do anything dumb." For a second Frank thought Ray could tell he was lying, but he stood up anyway and walked back to the living room. A moment passed and the sound came back on the TV with an explosion of canned laughter.

He liked being around someone, they didn't have to be talking, just the company was nice. He sat on the far side of the couch, nodding at Ray when he looked up to greet him. They'd been friends for so long, most of their interaction looked like that. Frank couldn't imagine a better living situation. He watched as Ray flipped through the channels, never settling on anything for more than a few minutes. It was a good pastime, even if they weren't actually watching anything. Sometimes he just needed a break from everything, even thinking. He didn't always understand Ray, and why he did the things he did, but he was always a calming presence and a constant, something Frank hated to admit he needed.

Frank stole a glance towards the clock on the wall, reading 5:54, he gave a grunt and moved to stand up. Ray gave him a nervous look, but Frank just waved him off. Before heading to the door he grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the table and shoved them in his pocket. His shoes were waiting by the door, just under the hook with his hoodie thrown upon it. He shoved his vans on roughly, wincing at the pain, but just grabbed his hoodie and rested his hand on the door. "I'll see you tonight, Ray."