One moment he was at a party, and the next he was at his doorstep.

Frankie watched Ezra’s car drive off until it disappeared completely, and then he finally tore his eyes away.

He couldn’t make sense of anything in his mind. One thought would tell him that he’d been right to decline, another would tell him no- that he should’ve said yes. Then there were other thoughts of why Ezra had even propositioned him of all people.

When Ezra asked him that, the first thing out of his mouth was a ‘No’.

Frankie didn’t like him in that way at all. They didn’t know each other, how could he?

It wasn’t that Ezra wasn’t tempting, with his sultry eyes and pinkish lips, he was. He was every bit Frankie’s ‘type’, but sense prevailed in the end.

The thought of someone wanting to kiss him was nice, but they were going to be sat together for the rest of the year and they even had to see each other outside of school for an English project. How was he supposed to face someone he’d kissed on the lips? How could he possibly act ‘normal’ around them?

Frankie knew himself to an extent, he was the type to get attached and he was already feeling that attachment by just sitting next to Ezra. He could only imagine how the ‘pull’ from having kissed Ezra would feel.

Unable to control his attachment he’d act way too familiar with the unfamiliar boy an scare him off. That was how it always went with Frankie and relationships, which is why the people closest to him were the people who weren’t.

Besides, he was probably drunk.

Ezra had acted strange. Constantly switched between topics, seeming to say whatever was on his mind, and not to mention Frankie caught him sleeping inside of a closet of all things.

If Ezra was drunk enough to sleep in a closet, who’s to say he wasn’t drunk enough to kiss the first person he came across? Frankie didn’t believe drunk thoughts were sober actions, just lapses of judgment. In Ezra’s case, it was an unbelievably large lapse of judgement.

Ezra hadn’t spoken to Frankie the entire ride home. Whether it was due to propositioning his best friend's ugly younger brother or doing something pretty gay while being straight, he must’ve been embarrassed in some way

…But did Ezra ever talk, regardless of what happened? Frankie pondered on second thought.

He scrapped that thought, his head was scrambled and any thoughts were coming out misshapen.

Frankie turned around to open the front door, and he noticed that the lights were on.

It was weird since it was three am in the morning, but he couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up at 8, went downstairs and found that the lights were still on from the night before.

Foster probably forgot to turn them off again. It was annoying but Frankie hadn’t reminded him about that yet, and he didn’t want to. Why couldn’t Foster turn them off without having to be told?

Frankie held his breath when he saw someone the person sitting at the stairs next to the stairs.

A very displeased Cedric Stahl, his Dad.

The both of them just stopped and stared at each other.

Cedric broke the silence by talking to the person on his phone, “He’s here, let’s talk later,” He shoved his phone in his pocket and got up, looking at Frankie with a tensity between his brows.

Cedric looked like he was about to say something but almost a minute passed by and his mouth was still closed shut. Frankie closed the door behind him when a breeze rushed in and bit at the skin on the back of his neck. He shivered before turning around, and then, Cedric spoke.

“Where have you been?” He asked. The mild smile that was always on the man’s face normally stiffened when it came to Frankie, but this time it was completely gone- only a grim expression left behind

Frankie looked everywhere but the man's eyes, “I went out,”—“With my friends,” He said.

“Your friends?” Cedric asked, in what looked like disbelief.

It wasn’t the truth but why did Cedric immediately think it was lie? “Yes. My friends,”

“It’s almost four in the morning,”

“It is,” Frankie said as he fiddled with his nails.

“Where did you go?” Cedric asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, “You didn’t ask me to go out,”

“I forgot to,”

“Did you now? You forgot?”

“Yes,”

“You forgot to answer my messages as well?”

“...Yes?”

Frankie hadn’t seen any messages. He didn’t know why, maybe his phone was broken, but some people’s texts hadn’t been reaching him for a while.

“Drop the tone,”

“I don’t have one,”

Cedric scoffed, “I got to the nursing home, and they told me they didn’t need me tonight. I wanted to spend time with my boys- watch a bit, maybe order something- but you were gone. Didn’t say you were going anywhere, and didn’t answer any calls. Foster was asking around to see if anyone knew where you were. You had us worried sick.

“I was about to call the police, then someone texted Foster back saying that you were ‘on your way home’ so explain yourself,”

Cedric huffed, frustrated, as he ran a hand through his blonde hair and tugged at it.

“Foster goes out all the time,” Frankie said. Foster went out with his friends all the time, he didn’t come back at 3 am like Frankie had but it was late enough.

Cedric's eyes narrowed. “Because he asks me to, he tells me exactly where he’s going, and he answers all of his calls,”

“Well…Why do I have a curfew and Foster doesn’t?” Frankie said

“You still have a curfew because I can’t trust you, Foster doesn’t because I can trust him,” Cedric explained, “The last time you went out, you did exactly what you did now. How am I meant to trust you when you do things like this? And does this have anything to do with you not answering calls or telling me where you're going?”

“I go out one time, and it’s the end of the world,” Frankie said, scowling, “I’m just living, calm down,”

Cedric furrowed his brows, “That wasn’t my question,”

Frankie rolled his eyes and rushed to the stairs but Cedric blocked him.

“Stop,” He said, sighing, as he took hold of Frankie’s shoulders.

It was a light touch, Frankie barely felt it on his left shoulder, but it stung like hell on the other one.

“Let go,” Frankie said, writhing in pain. He pushed past Cedric and went for the stairs.

“Frankie…What happened?” Cedric asked, following after him.

“You,” Frankie spat, “I’m so tired of you, leave me alone,”

Frankie turned to speak to him, there was an arch to his father’s eyes and brows. The man looked deeply sad, like he was in pain.

Foster was standing at the doorway to his bedroom, next to Frankie’s, when Frankie got to the top of the stairs.

“Where the hell have you been?” Foster started,” Why were you talking to Dad like that?”

Frankie slammed his bedroom door, and locked it quickly.

He tried his best to ignore what Foster said while his frantic knocks sounded at his door.  But even as they died down and he lay on his bedroom floor, Frankie still couldn’t rip Foster’s words out of his head.

Why were you talking to Dad like that?

Frankie peered at his closet, it was mostly empty as his clothes were strewn all over the carpet instead. He thought back to Ezra, the boy looked comfortable in the closet.

When the closet doors closed, a sigh escaped him.

His actions towards his father were mean, rude, and every bit of the ill-behaved child he never thought he’d be. But at its core, it was just a way of getting back at the man who’d hurt him first.

Frankie would’ve forgiven him, for each and every mistreatment, if only he could pry an apology from the man’s lips.

But that was the end of Freshman Year.

Too much time had passed now, and the resentment had festered- weeping as an untended wound does- he didn’t know what would make him forgive Cedric at this point, but, a simple apology would not be enough.