There were two things Frankie noticed after being in Ezra's room for so long; he liked the colour black and he was very touchy.

If Ezra sticking antiseptic on his lip the third time they'd ever interacted didn't show him how touchy the boy was, the position they were in definitely did.

Ezra's head hung on Frankie's shoulder while his slow breaths nipped the side of his neck with their warmth. Frankie was as still as a rock.

"Ezra," Frankie called out.

He hummed.

"Don't you find this a bit..." Frankie continued. Ezra turned to him and waited for him to finish his sentence. "...weird?"

He readjusted himself, finding a more comfortable position on Frankie's shoulder.

"I do this with your brother all the time," He mumbled in a rough voice. One that sounded like he'd just woken up even though he hadn't slept nor naped since they got back from school. Ezra had layed on Frankie's shoulder since they got to his house, Frankie couldn't even remember how they got into this position.

Had Ezra asked or had he just gone ahead and put his head on Frankie's shoulder?

Frankie raised a brow at that but quickly dropped it.

I'm thinking too much, Frankie thought. There was nothing inherently gay about a guy putting his head on another guy, he needed to wash his head out. Ezra did things like this with Foster, he said it himself, the two of them weren't involved at all.

"So," Frankie started. "We're supposed to be planning this out,"

The project Mr Moore had given them. They were supposed to have the plan or at least something done for yesterday but they hadn't even spoken about it yet. Mr Moore said they could bring it in next week but any later than that and they were both getting detentions.

Ezra shifted his head a little, a lazy nod.

"Get up?" Frankie suggested.

He didn't mind Ezra's head on his shoulder, it was nice having someone rely on him. But he definitely minded the detention he'd get if he didn't get this project in on time.

Frankie nudged at him and he didn't move.

"What do we have in common?"

Ezra grumbled something. Frankie didn't hear it at all.

"What did you say?"

"...Foster," He said louder.

"No. Something else."

"...Cafe."

"You just started working there, how are we supposed to write a 25-page essay on that?"

Not only did the two not know each other well but Frankie was worried that there wasn't much to know about himself. He didn't have any hobbies outside of baking, cooking or taking naps if that counted. He used to draw but he hadn't drawn anything in ages.

"Hobbies?" Frankie asked.

"Football...I like the gym."

"...How do I relate to that?" Frankie asked.

Nothing came from Ezra, not even a stir.

Frankie said apprehensively, "...You're not trying at all."

Ezra nodded.

Frankie looked around Ezra's room. The floors were dark brown, the walls were white with intricate moulding on the top and on the bottom. A black fixture hung from the ceiling, he couldn't describe the shape but it looked expensive.

Ezra's sheets were black, the bed frame was black, his desk was the same, and the clothes in his closet looked even darker.

"You like black don't you?"

They could try doing a project on their favourite colours?

"No."

Ezra wasn't good at catching sarcasm so Frankie doubted he could be sarcastic but there was no way he was being serious.

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes."

Right.

"What do you do outside of school?" Frankie asked while looking at Ezra's desk, he had a PC and a bunch of work assignments stacked up. Nothing pointed to him having a hobby.

"Football."

"Really?"

Ezra nodded.

"Did you sleep last night?"

Ezra shook his head.

As time went on, Ezra's speech became few and far between, Frankie suspected he was about to fall asleep and turned his head towards him.

Ezra's hair was tossed around and fell away from his face. It was rare for Frankie to see him without hair covering his forehead, even rarer for him to see Ezra's face without having to look up. His head wandered for a bit- Ezra being his height would be nice.

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Two," he mumbled.

"Two hours? Nowhere near enough."

"You sound like Foster," Ezra mumbled.

"I don't," Frankie said.

"You do."

Frankie got up abruptly. Ezra slipped off his shoulder and was abruptly awoken. He looked at Frankie much in the way that a kicked puppy would look at their perpetrator.

"I'm gonna...toilet...yeah," Frankie said under his breath, before rushing to the en suite.

He shut the door behind him as lightly as he could.

Frankie caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror before pooling water in his hands, and splashing it on his face. His chest was tight and his breath was scarce.

He pressed his cheeks until they were rubbed red and then splashed cold water on his face because he was a blotchy red mess.

Like Foster.

How sensitive of him. He wouldn't have been that put off by someone telling him that before and farther before that he would've been happy to hear that. Was it because he was seeing so much more of Foster than he normally would?

I shouldn't have done that, Frankie thought.

He wondered how Ezra would look at him once he got out of the bathroom. Would he be confused? Annoyed even? When Pheobe would abruptly get up and leave he and Foster would be confused, then annoyed, then they learned to ignore her.

Frankie traced his features in the mirror. Hooded eyes with light bags under them, small nose, pale lips. He looked just like her and he wondered when he would stop looking like her— if he would stop looking like her.

Turning away from the mirror, he looked around the ensuite though there wasn't much to look at. A shower, a toilet, bathroom mats. It was cleaner than what he expected but then again Ezra probably had housekeepers or maids. There was nothing decorative or personal.

As soon as Frankie started to feel like he was snooping he decided to leave, wrapping his hand around the metal handle of the door and opening it slightly.

"Ezra, come on," someone said.

Frankie stopped.

It was muffled even though the door was slightly open. Frankie had to say, the soundproofing was good, if it was his house he would've heard this conversation through the wall.

"What? We can't talk anymore?" He said. "Why?"

Frankie opened the door slowly. It was between staying in the bathroom and listening to their conversation or just stopping the conversation. He chose the latter.

The first thing he saw was Ezra on the edge of the bed. His lips were pressed together into a displeased line while his brows were arched. The other person looked similar to Ezra, like an alternate version.

His hair was straight while Ezra's was curly, his eyes were brown while Ezra's were green, and he had a cruel twist to his features while Ezra's face was often blank.

They both turned to him when he opened the door.

Ezra's tense expression loosened while the person next to him turned confused.

Frankie gave a quick awkward smile.

The man pointed, "Who's that?"

Ezra didn't say anything.

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Name?" He asked.

"Frankie."

He looked at him as if he were stupid and asked again, "Full name."

"Frankie...Stahl," He said, stumbling over his words. The man was oddly intimidating, he wasn't as big as Ezra but seemed it— he had the height but not the muscle. Frankie figured that it was the way he carried himself, sure he wasn't small but he carried himself as if he were a much bigger man than he was.

Bluntly, he seemed arrogant.

"William Grant's eldest, Elijah Grant," He said, putting a hand out by habit and then withdrawing it, "Are you a friend?"

That was one way to say hello. Frankie expected 'nice to meet you' or 'pleasure to make your acquaintance' he seemed the sophisticated type. Are you a friend? With the undisguised disgust on his face caught Frankie off guard.

Frankie mulled it over for a bit, "Well..."

"Yes," Ezra said.

His words caught Frankie off guard while he was analysing their interactions, seeing if he would qualify as a friend, Ezra already had his answer.

The corner of Elijah's lips rose in vague amusement as Frankie watched every microexpression on his face. Sometimes it was fuzzy and obscure when he felt like someone disliked him and other times it was obvious. This was the latter.

Frankie swallowed.

"I completely forgot," Elijah said with a smile, "you make friends with all sorts of people."

He laughed in a way Frankie could only describe as 'rich'.

Ezra narrowed his eyes at the comment while Frankie pretended not to understand any implications or not-so-hidden jabs. With people like him, it was easier to pretend you were stupid.

Elijah gave his brother a look before putting his hands behind his back, "I'll see you at dinner then," — his eyes flickered to Frankie— "Is your friend eating here?"

Ezra turned to him.

"If you'll have me, sure," Frankie said as he gave Elijah a small smile which he returned with a tight smile.

"Lovely," he said before turning around, his leather shoes scuffing the floor.

It was silent after he left.

"Are you okay?" Frankie asked, mustering up the courage to.

Ezra nodded.

He didn't look too fine.

But who was Frankie to push? They were barely friends.

***

Ezra's house was the definition of rich.

It was on the rich people mountain so Frankie expected some kind of wealth, but this was just ridiculous. He was left speechless when Ezra drove him here just a couple of hours ago but he hadn't seen the best parts of the interior since Ezra had taken him through a side entrance that made the way to his bedroom much shorter.

Frankie saw the foyer, the 'reception' room, then the sitting room, and finally the dining room. Ezra told him that this wasn't even the start of it, that there were many more rooms to look at.

When they entered the dining room he saw a man sitting at the head of the table, a woman sat to his left and Elijah sat to his right. Ezra took the seat next to his mother but Frankie was left not knowing where to sit. The woman, presumably Ezra's mother, got up abruptly and approached Frankie.

"Gosh, I didn't know we had a guest tonight," She said, taking Frankie by the hands "I'm Blanche Grant, Mrs Grant" —She put a hand to her chest and then gestured to the others around to the table— "You know my second son, Ezra. I think you've met my first son, Elijah yes? And last but not least my husband, William Grant."

Mrs Grant was an inch or two shorter than Frankie. She had raven hair that was cut short, forest-green eyes, and pink lips.

She looked just like Ezra.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Frankie, Frankie Stahl," Frankie said.

"Pleasure," Mrs Grant said as she gestured to the seat next to Elijah. "You can sit next to Elijah."

"Thanks."

Frankie sat down right across from Ezra. He looked even less happy than he looked before.

Mrs Grant sat down, flattening her dress as she tucked in her seat.

Her eyes fell on Frankie almost immediately.

"So Frankie? I was wondering if you knew a Foster Stahl, you have the same last name so are you related in any way? Cousins?" Mrs Grant asked.

"Brothers."

"Brother? I didn't know Foster had a brother, he's joined us at dinner many times but never talks about you," she said intrigued.

Never talks about you.

"He must've joined their family recently then," Elijah said.

"Joined their family?" Frankie asked then he came to a realisation, "I'm not adopted."

"Oh," she said in genuine surprise before clearing her throat. "Your family varies in appearance."

That was one way to say it, Frankie thought as he laughed stiffly.

Elijah barely managed to bite back his laughter, the rest of the table looked at him.

"What is it?" Mr Grant asked with furrowed brows.

He looked between them and scoffed. "Come on, you can't honestly believe he's not adopted."

"Elijah." Mr Grant said, his voice warning him. Elijah rolled his eyes.

Mrs Grant looked ashamed while Ezra looked even more pissed off.

"Frankie..." She said as he put a hand on the table and looked at him apologetically.

Frankie gave her a small smile, "It's nothing, everyone assumes I'm adopted."

A small door opened and people, who Frankie assumed were some kind of servants, entered with food.

Mrs Grant gave a final smile before saying, "We don't speak while eating."

Frankie nodded, he wasn't going to speak anyway.

Everyone said thank you as the food was placed in front of them and Frankie followed suit.

Dinner was salmon with some salad, nothing inherently fancy but the plating made it look like it was from a restaurant. Frankie dug in happily, the salmon was light and had a slight buttery taste to it. He'd never tried salmon before and he'd never cooked it either but he thought he could try recreating this, it tasted quite nice.

He took a small glance around the room and noticed that everyone seemed to like it, except for Ezra.

Frankie looked across from his seat and all he could see was Ezra pushing his food around the plate, having eaten practically none of it. Everyone else was half finished with their food and Frankie being a slower eater was almost halfway through but Ezra's didn't look much different from when they first presented the dinner.

Only his glass of water was half empty.

He pushed the food around with disinterest.

Frankie watched as Mrs Grant nudged him, encouraging Ezra to eat at least a little bit.

Minutes passed and Ezra still hadn't eaten anything, even as they took away the food.

"But how do you know if you haven't tried it?" Mrs Grant asked him in a hushed tone.

Ezra ignored her.

Mrs Grant sighed.

Frankie heard a scoff from his left, Elijah. He tried to glance at him as covertly as he could but Elijah still caught him looking.

"What are you looking at?" he said with his arms folded and a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I've seen your father before, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, you don't look anything like him."

"Yes," Frankie said, more annoyed this time but it was still a whisper.

Elijah snickered, "You sure that's your real dad?"

Frankie stood up slowly.

Mrs Grant looked at him, confused. "You're not staying for dessert?"

"Sorry, no," Frankie told her. "I'm...going home."

Mrs Grant narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Did Elijah say something to you?"

Frankie paused on tucking his chair and said, "I-"

"Really? You're gonna assume the worst of me?"

"Yes, I am," Mrs Grant replied.

Frankie left the dining room quickly but not before he could hear Mr Grant tell Ezra to sit down, the subsequent loud crash, and someone screaming. He turned around to see Elijah on the ground, writhing in pain, and Ezra walking towards him.

"Ezra! Back here now," Mr Grant shouted.

Ezra took Frankie by the shoulders and took him away from the front entrance and towards the stairs.

"You left your bag."

They got to his room quickly and Frankie grabbed his bag from Ezra's bed. There wasn't much in it, he tended to keep all his things in his locker.

"Are you okay?" Ezra asked him.

He slowed down while putting his bag on, smiling. "I'm fine."

Ezra looked at him with suspicion.

"I am," he said. "I'm... just not feeling too well, a bit touchy I guess."

( The rest is in the description because it was too long.)