Chapter Ten
Frankie’s eyes narrowed when he saw Nikolas Cassadine’s green Jaguar parked two spaces away from the BMW in which Johnny drove him to school. He looked around, then sauntered over to the car. No one was in sight, and he kicked the passenger door hard and giggled delightedly. Unbeknownst to Frankie, Nikolas was on the other side of the driver’s side door, kneeling on the ground to retie his leather docksider shoes. Nikolas rose to his well-muscled six-foot height and glared at Frankie, who stood his ground with every one of his slender, five feet six inches.
"Get away from my car," said Nikolas as he scowled. "Why are you going around kicking people’s cars?"
Frankie’s face took on a false humility. "Someone kicked your car?" he asked innocently.
"Yeah, you!" retorted Nikolas, biceps bulging as he brushed the dirt off of his chino pants. He looked particularly handsome that day with his light aqua polo shirt that contrasted with the rich tan of his golden skin.
One of Frankie’s eyebrows rose, and he pointed to his left. "See that BMW over there?" he asked Nikolas. "That’s a German car, and it’s all mine, including the driver. This is nothing but an English pantywaist piece of junk," he sneered as he slapped at the window. Frankie saw the school bus unloading and spotted Sly climbing down the steps to the curb. He glared at Nikolas again and ran over to Sly. "Hi Sly," he said brightly, patting his friend on the back and walking toward the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Nikolas with a smirk on his face. Nikolas watched until Frankie entered the front door to the school and shook his head, muttering, "Psycho."
~*~*~*~
Gym class had generally been a breeze for Sly and Frankie after Frankie had established himself as "The Enforcer" after the incident in the locker room. No one hassled either one of them during games, and Frankie had his pick of teams and positions. All he had to do was snap his fingers, and the boys did his bidding. But today they had to take some ridiculous tests where they were timed on various runs. Frankie had begun to get winded after the 600-yard dash, but next was a one-mile run. There was no way he could get out of doing that – the gym instructor was watching them like a hawk and carried around a stopwatch and clipboard with their names on it. Frankie rolled his eyes. I should have skipped today, he thought regretfully. Frankie knew that he wasn’t supposed to exert himself like that – he only had half of his left lung intact. But there was no way he was going to bring that up with these idiots. He had a reputation to protect and maintain.
Frankie did okay for the first half mile. He paced himself and didn’t waste his energy on sprinting. But after the half mile, he started feeling nauseous and dizzy. His legs were like wet noodles that refused to straighten and carry him over the rough track, and his heavy feet repeatedly scraped and stumbled on the black cinders. Other runners whisked by him as they increased their pace, some brushing up against his struggling form. Frankie frowned and tried to run faster, but his breathing grew labored and sounded like croupy gasps for air. He was sweating profusely, and he grimaced as he wiped the wet drips out of his eyes. The gym instructor walked by with his stopwatch and shouted, "Keep up the pace, DeMarco!" Frankie’s face set, and he continued on with fierce determination.
Sly was worried about Frankie. He noticed that he wasn’t running very fast this time, but stumbling around awkwardly like he didn’t know where he was or how to run. He heard Frankie making desperate noises the last time he sailed by him and wondered if he should stop and ask if he were okay. Sly figured Frankie would stop if he had any real problems, but he kept an eye on him anyway.
Frankie’s head began pounding, and when he starting seeing spots in his vision, he stopped abruptly in the middle of the track and looked down at his gym shoes in a stunned trance-like gaze. His shoes seemed to rush toward him in his vision, and he felt the sharp scrape of the cinders on his fallen knees. His eyes closed gently as he fell over partly on his side and partly on his back. His mind drifted to a gray, insensible place, but his hearing was still intact, and he detected the harsh, desperate gasps for air and startled shouts of runners who jumped off the track to avoid running on top of him. He heard voices all around him, one of them sounded like Sly’s, and someone repeatedly slapped him on the cheek and called his name. He felt hands on him as he was lifted off of the track and onto the grass. He felt the smooth coolness of the grass blades caressing the side of his face and the backs of his arms and legs, but his eyes wouldn’t open, and his mouth wouldn’t speak.
Sly had been startled to see Frankie fall over dramatically in the middle of the track. He ran straight across the grassy interior and over to his friend. Fear hit Sly’s stomach when he looked down at Frankie, who was making terrible noises and looking like a corpse with his closed eyes and deadly pale, sweaty skin. He called out Frankie’s name to no avail and looked over at the gym instructor who bounded on over to the boy who appeared to be in trouble. The gym instructor called out his name and slapped his cheek to try to wake him up. When he was unsuccessful at rousing Frankie, he called to the boy standing next to him. "Go get the school nurse. And hurry up."
"He sounds a little better," observed Sly, who was promptly ignored by the gym instructor. Frankie was breathing rapidly, not taking in deep breaths, but was losing the desperate croupy sound that he had earlier. The gym instructor held his wrist, taking his pulse, but Frankie reacted violently, and struggled to remove his arm from the teacher’s grasp. "Get…the FUCK…OFF a me!" he shouted incoherently as he flailed to get away. Sly smiled inwardly. Sounds like the Frankie we all know, he thought. Frankie’s eyes opened, and he tried to scramble backwards at the sight of several people staring at him. "Hey!" he protested. He calmed down slightly when he saw Sly. "What’s goin’ on?" he asked his friend as he coughed repeatedly. "You kind of passed out or something," Sly said matter-of-factly. "You were running, and then boom – on the ground you went." Sly held out his hand and helped his friend up. Frankie swayed unsteadily, and the gym instructor said, "The school nurse is here, you’d better go with her." Frankie cringed when he saw the fiftyish white uniformed woman heading his way. "Aw, shit," he said to no one in particular.
"What’s going on?" asked the school nurse. "He passed out on the track," stated the gym instructor. "Come with me," instructed the school nurse. Frankie made a face. "No," he said firmly. The gym instructor nodded to Sly. "Go help your friend," he suggested. Sly took Frankie by one arm and led him away, following behind the nurse.
Sly waited with Frankie in the nurse’s office for Johnny to arrive. Frankie had successfully fended off the nurse, telling her, no, he didn’t have asthma or any other health problems. He had shrugged when the nurse told him he needed to see a doctor, and that he’d have to bring back a note from the doctor before he could return to school. Frankie had thought, What’s one more forgery? I’ve already made a hundred for this mission. The nurse had told him that his temperature was elevated slightly. Frankie ignored her. He wasn't going to listen to some bimbo with a thermometer. He laughed and talked to Sly about Emily and their practice session. "I forget to tell you ‘bout some of dem dames. You might get a giggler in the bunch, but dat’s okay. They’re extra special."
Frankie ran a hand through his damp hair. "I got a date with dat Maxie chick tonight," he stated happily. "Dinner and a movie. Thanks for those tips. It wasn’t too hard to talk to her. She’s cool. And that color thing – she liked dat a lot. Loves green, um, forest green." Frankie laughed and looked over at his friend. Frankie’s face softened, and he said, "Thanks for staying with me, Sly."
Sly looked back at Frankie. "No problem," he said. "Just be sure to call me tonight after the date. I want details and another make-out tip as a bonus for helping you get a date." Frankie chuckled, "Sure thing."
~*~*~*~
Johnny watched Frankie closely as he slid into the passenger seat. He didn’t like the way his boss looked. Johnny held his hand to Frankie’s forehead. "Get away!" Frankie crossly yelled, flinging Johnny’s hand away.
"Boss, you have a fever," stated Johnny. "Maybe I should find you a doctor."
"Forget it," growled Frankie. "I’m fine. I’m gonna go home and take a nap, then I have a date tonight. And you can take the night off, too. I don’t want no bodyguard to interrupt my action."
Johnny let the topic drop, and his thoughts drifted toward the lovely Ms. Spencer and her gourmet coffee.
~*~*~*~
"Frankie passed out in school today," Sly said conversationally as he handed Emily a diet Coke. Sly sat down at one of the tables in Kelly’s Diner. "I was going to go visit him in his room, but he told Aunt Ruby he was taking a nap and don’t let anyone go up and disturb him. He has a date with Maxie tonight," he added.
"Poor Frankie," stated Emily. "I wonder what’s going on with him. He’s so secretive and mysterious. It’s like he leads this double life that none of us know about."
Sly laughed and shook his head. "You watch too many of those soap operas, Emily," he teased. Sly slid his hand over the table and encircled Emily’s hand. He squeezed it and smiled as he looked deep into her eyes. "You have the prettiest eyes. I never noticed before," he said softly. "But I do now." Sly grew shy then and released her hand as he blushed and looked down at the table, nervously fiddling with the straw in his drink glass. Emily laughed nervously and took another sip of her diet Coke, sneaking a look at Sly under her eyelashes.
Ruby walked up to their table. "How are those drinks?" she asked cheerfully. "Need a refill yet?"
"Not yet, Aunt Ruby, thanks," said Sly.
"Okeydoke," replied Ruby as she threw a dishtowel over her shoulder and walked back to the counter. I shouldn’t do that, but I can’t help myself, she thought. Those two are the cutest kids I think I’ve ever seen. Ah, young love. It’s about time Sly experiences some happiness. He sure deserves it after all that he’s been through. Ruby’s eyes misted as she remembered a night about two years ago.
*** "Ruby, it’s Luke," said the tense voice over the phone. Ruby yawned and turned on the light next to her bed. She looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. "Luke, what’s wrong? It’s late."
"I’m sorry, Ruby, but I don’t know what to do," Luke pleaded in a voice that was close to tears. "It’s Sly. He’s in the other room sobbing his heart out. He’s been doing that every night this week, and then he looks terrible in the morning with no sleep. I’m really worried about him. I don’t know what to do."
Ruby smiled and said reassuringly, "Luke, his mother passed away several years ago, and now his father and his aunt have been murdered. He’s had everyone he ever cared about or trusted to take care of him brutally stripped out of his life. He’s grieving. You can understand that, can’t you? You’ve lost loved ones," she reminded gently.
"I guess so," replied Luke. "But I don’t know what to do. How do I fix it for him?"
"Luke, there’s no fixing a tragedy like that. All you can do is love him and be there for him. He’ll have to find his own way to heal in his own time. Go to his room, knock on his door and go in and hug him – tell him you’re there if he wants to talk or needs anything. He needs to know that there is someone, an adult that he can turn to and depend upon."
Luke sighed. "Okay, Ruby. I’m not comfortable, but if that’s what he needs, I’ll do it." ***
Ruby sighed and wiped off the counter. Luke’s come a long way with Sly over the last two years, she reflected. I’m real happy to see how they’ve bonded. They both need each other. Ruby looked up the stairs and thought, But I’m still wondering about that Frankie. Is it possible that he could be Luke’s?
Sly stood up and produced his wallet. "Let me pay for those," he said to Emily as he produced several bills. "My treat," he smiled. "Thanks, Sly," replied Emily. "Where to now?"
Sly shrugged. "I thought we might go to the park and take a walk. It’s a real pretty day, don’t you think?" Emily smiled and nodded. "Okay."
~*~*~*~
Sly and Emily sat under a large shady tree under Sly’s spring jacket that served
as a makeshift blanket. He had his arm around her shoulder, and the two talked about
everything and nothing. A jogger rounded the path and Sly called out, "Hey,
Nikolas!" Nikolas Cassadine stopped and glanced over at Sly.
Sly stood up and walked over to Nikolas, holding out his hand for a handshake. "I’m Sly Eckert. I wanted to thank you for letting me and my uncle join you on your trip next week."
Nikolas’ face brightened with a smile, and he shook Sly’s hand. "Hi Sly," he said. "My Aunt Alexis told me you’d be coming. It’s nice to meet you. I think we’ll have fun. There’s lot’s to do on the island. Have you ever been to Greece?" When Sly shook his head no, Nikolas laughed, "It’s my favorite place in the world, Maybe it will be yours, too! Well, I better start jogging again so I can finish in time for dinner. I’ll see you next week then?"
"Sure," said Sly. "Look forward to it."
Sly walked back over to Emily and sat down beside her again. "He’s pretty nice. I was worried he’d be stuck up, but he’s cool." Sly was in an especially good mood and reached out for Emily, pulling her close and capturing her lips into an eager kiss. Emily melted under the gentle, insistent pressure of his lips and ran her hands through his silky blond hair. The two French kissed until Emily thought she’d faint and Sly thought he’d explode. The two separated, and Sly stroked the side of Emily’s cheek as his eyes softened with the pleasure of looking at her. "Do you want to go on a real date?" he whispered expectantly. Emily smiled broadly and said, "I thought you’d never ask. Yes. I’d like that."
~*~*~*~
Frankie dressed up in his nicest non-suit outfit, a well-creased pair of black wool dress pants and a fashionable white Italian silk shirt that draped subtlely over his lean, muscled chest. He combed his carefully gelled hair back and slapped some aftershave over his freshly shaved face. He smiled into the mirror and raised his eyebrows. "Showtime!" he said out loud. Frankie grabbed the keys to his BMW and headed for the door. Let Johnny drive his old Cadillac, tonight was a night for impressing dames, and Frankie had the fake driver’s license to pull it off.
~*~*~*~
Frankie rang the doorbell and hummed lightly under his breath a favorite Frank Sinatra tune. Maxie opened the door and looked like a teen goddess with her matching cream sweater and cream pants. Her hair was shiny and carefully curled toward her face, and her blue eyes shone brightly. Frankie smiled broadly and said, "Hi Maxie. You look wonderful." Frankie stepped in the door and stopped when he saw Mac approaching him. His face set as the older man held out his hand. "Frankie DeMarco," stated Frankie as he shook Mac’s hand. "Hello, Frankie," said Mac as he looked at Frankie with piercing x-ray vision. "Why don’t you come in, and we can talk a bit." Maxie looked alarmed, and said quickly, "Oh, that’s not necessary. We need to be going soon, right Frankie?" Felicia entered the room and said brightly, "You must be Frankie! It’s so nice to meet you." Frankie smiled and nodded in Felicia’s direction. He wanted to bolt out of there, but thought they’d better stay for a minute so Mac wouldn’t be suspicious.
Mac directed him to a couch, and Frankie sat down stiffly on the edge of the furniture while Maxie joined him. "So Frankie, you’re not from Port Charles I take it?" Mac started. Frankie smiled. "Not originally, sir. I moved from Philadelphia." Mac looked closely at Frankie. "That’s funny," he remarked. "I could swear that you just stepped out of New Jersey." Frankie’s cheeks colored, and he cleared his throat. "I’m sorry, you’re mistaken," he replied coolly as he looked down at his fingers.
Mac leaned back in his chair. "So your uncle is here on business. What type of business is he in?" Frankie shrugged. "He’s an independent computer consultant." Mac looked interested. "Oh, which company is he working with?" Frankie’s face set. "I wouldn’t know," he replied breezily. "But even if I did, that would be private information. I’m sure my uncle is concerned about competitors, you know." Mac looked stunned. The kid sounds like a thirty year old MBA.
"Where are you going to dinner?" asked Felicia. "I thought we might try someplace near the mall," stated Frankie. "Whatever catches our fancy as we drive over there. What do you think, Maxie?" Maxie jumped to her feet. "Sounds good, Frankie, but we’d better go. We don’t want to be late for the movie!"
"It’s a school night," reminded Mac as he walked the couple to the door. "Be back by eleven."
"No problem," replied Frankie as he gritted his teeth.
~*~*~*~
"Father," stated Nikolas as he passed the plate of crown roast in his direction. "Some crazy kid kicked my car today at school."
"What happened, Nikolas?" asked Stefan.
"I don’t know," said Nikolas, frowning. "I was bent to the ground tying my shoe when I heard a loud thud. I stood up and there he was grinning at me. He claims he didn’t do anything, but he was the only person near the car. Then he pointed at some BMW and insulted my car, said it was an English pantywaist car, not a German car like his."
Stefan set down his fork and laughed delightedly.
Nikolas looked surprised and annoyed. "Why is that funny?" he asked petulantly. "He could have damaged my car!"
"I don’t know son," replied Stefan as he wiped away his tears of laughter. "It was not an appropriate action to take, but the child has a sense of humor."
Nikolas cut at his meat with an especially fierce motion. "I don’t know about that," he replied. "But I’m going to kick his scrawny butt if he comes within two feet of my car again."
"Nikolas," intoned Stefan. "It would be more proper to notify the school authorities if he damages your property."
Nikolas shrugged. "I’m still going to kick his butt," he sniffed.
~*~*~*~
"Order anything you want," stated Frankie proudly.
Maxie laughed. "Even lobster?" she asked.
Frankie turned the menu back and forth. "I don’t think they got dat here," he said worriedly.
Maxie reached her hand out and placed it on Frankie’s. "I’m only teasing," she said with twinkling eyes. "Actually the signature burger sounds heavenly – only no onions."
Frankie nodded in agreement. He looked at the passing waiter and snapped his fingers, pointing over at the table. "We’d like some service now," he said evenly.
Maxie watched Frankie, impressed with his easygoing command of the situation. He seemed so much older than fifteen, and she liked that.
~*~*~*~
Frankie walked Maxie back to the car and opened and closed the car door for her. Frank may be a pig, but he taught Frankie manners for conducting himself in business in the public eye. Maxie admired the BMW, and she ran an appreciative hand over its tan leather seats. "Did your uncle let you borrow his car?" she asked. "This is real nice." Frankie laughed. "Nah, it’s mine. My father bought if for my last birthday." Maxie’s eyes widened. "He must be rich," she blurted out. "He is," replied Frankie as he started up the car and pulled out of the restaurant.
Frankie bought the movie tickets and one super popcorn to share as well as two drinks. He let Maxie decide on the movie, and they were going to see some western slash romance movie that he suspected she picked to please both of them. Maxie sure is a nice girl, he thought. During the movie, the super popcorn kind of got in the way of physical communication via handholding or arm nestling, and Maxie wondered when they’d ever finish the huge bag. Frankie’s alarm on his watch beeped, and he leaned in and whispered, "I gotta call my father. Be back in a couple of minutes." When Frankie left his seat, Maxie grabbed the bag of popcorn and kicked it over about two seats away. Got rid of that, she thought with satisfaction.
Frankie walked out into the lobby of the movie theatre and secured a fairly private corner. "Frank," he said.
"Five minutes early today," commented Frank. "That’s good."
"I’m just callin’ in to talk to you and check out how it’s going," replied Frankie. "Oh, and I have the strategic plan completed for the mission. I’ll give it to you when I see you tomorrow."
"Very good," replied Frank. He cleared his throat. "You need to present a very strong appearance to the men when you arrive here. Don’t disappoint me. I’m counting on you to be the number two man."
"No worry," replied Frankie. "I’m ready. The meeting is on Saturday, right?"
"Correct," replied Frank. "And you’d better be packing when you come."
Frankie chuckled and adjusted his pants. "I’m always packing."
Frankie rejoined Maxie and looked for the popcorn, but it had disappeared. He sank into his seat and laughed merrily when the bad guy got his head blown off. Maxie’s eyes darted over to Frankie after she removed her protective hand from her eyes. Frankie continued to ignore her in favor of watching the movie, and Maxie started to get a little miffed. He’s not too romantic, she groused to herself. No flowers, and no handholding either. I wonder if he’ll even give me a good night kiss.
~*~*~*~
Johnny rang the doorbell, and held up the white bag in his hands. "I thought we’d go out for a bite to eat tonight," he laughed teasingly. "But your idea of take-out sounds delicious." Johnny entered the doorway and leaned in to capture Bobbie’s lips in a torrid embrace. While his eyes were still closed and his lips were busy, he lowered the bag onto the nearby end table and wrapped his arms around Bobbie’s waist. "And you are luscious," he murmured into her ear. "You’re a strawberry cheesecake with whipped cream on top." Bobbie laughed and patted Johnny on the shoulder. "Come here, handsome," she said as she pulled Johnny into another embrace and ran her hands fervently over his firm pecs and abs. As she began lifting up his shirt, he thought, Ah, hell, she has a microwave. Let the food get cold. He grabbed Bobbie’s roving hand and ran with her back to the master bedroom.
~*~*~*~
Frankie and Maxie walked back to the car in silence after the movie. She seems miffed about something, Frankie wondered. Why did he ask me on a date if he was going to ignore me? Maxie wondered.
Frankie’s thought went to his real plans for the evening, and he leaned in for a kiss when they were both in the front seats. Maxie was taken by surprise by his insistent lips and tongue, and at first she froze up stiffly, but then she relaxed and melted under his expert administration. Finally, Frankie broke from the kiss and smiled. "You’re so pretty, mi amor," he said in a low, sexy voice. "I can’t stop looking at you." He reached out a tender hand to run down her soft cheek where it lingered over her lips and rubbed them lightly as he looked on in worship of her features.
Maxie’s heart raced. He is romantic, she thought. He was just shy before. He’s so sweet! Her eyes looked at him tenderly as he captured her lips in another kiss, this time very soft and gentle as if he were nibbling and tasting her sweetness.
"Come on," whispered Frankie. "We have two hours until we have to get you home."
~*~*~*~
Maxie walked around Frankie’s room and looked at the furnishings. Frankie laughed as he shut the door. "I know. It’s kind of bare. Maybe you can help me decorate it or something. I don’t know what to do with it." Maxie walked over to the window. "Where’s your uncle stay?" she asked curiously.
"Aw, he’s got the room next door. I have my own room," Frankie explained.
Maxie felt a warning stab of anxiety, but brushed it away. Frankie squatted and reached into his refrigerator. "Want a beer?" he asked casually. "I know the ladies like wine, but I don’t have any." Maxie felt uneasy. She never drank. But Frankie seemed so worldly, and she didn’t want to seem like a little girl. "Okay," she said hesitantly. The two sat on his bed, the only furniture in the room, and drank their beers in silence. Maxie noticed that Frankie had just finished his, and she wasn’t even a fourth of the way done with hers. She looked puzzled when he reached for a second one. "You drink a lot," she observed. Frankie shrugged. "My father always lets me drink," he stated. "It’s no big deal," he said, popping the top of his second beer and taking a long, slow sip.
Maxie started feeling more relaxed when she was about two thirds of the way through her beer, so she didn’t think anything of it when Frankie gently removed the beer from her hand and laid it on the table next to the bed. Frankie adjusted the pillows on the bed and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and then patting the bed beside him as he smiled at Maxie. Maxie leaned back next to Frankie, and he pulled her in close to him. Maxie fancied she could feel his heart beat through his thin silk shirt. Maxie lay her head on Frankie’s chest and placed her hand over his heart. Frankie leaned in and kissed her on the hair. "I got scars," he warned her. "On my chest and back. I got kidnapped and they hurt me. It’s no big deal." Frankie recalled the reactions of numerous women when he’d pulled his shirt off. "I didn’t want you to be scared." Maxie looked worried. "That’s terrible," she replied. "It happened a long time ago," Frankie stated. "It’s okay." Maxie replied softly, "I have scars, too, from having heart surgery." Frankie smiled and ran his hand down her cheek. "You’re beautiful no matter what," he whispered. Frankie smoothly rolled over and lay on top of Maxie. She was about to protest, but he started kissing her so expertly, that all she could think about was how good she felt. She moaned when he started licking her neck and then gently sucking on all the right places, brushing his lips over her throat and collarbone. She didn’t even realize that he was removing her sweater until he sat up and took his shirt off. She said, "Frankie, I don’t know about this." Frankie leaned back down beside her and caressed her hair and shoulders. "What?" he asked softly, then leaned in to kiss her again. This time when they both came up for air, she was naked from the waist up, and Frankie was in the process of unzipping her pants. When she opened her mouth to protest again, he kissed her and rubbed himself against her leg. Her eyes widened when she felt his strong erection and roving hands at the same time. "No," she said, pushing him off of her and turning away, grabbing for her clothes and trying to dress. Frankie scooted behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "What’s the matter?" he whispered in her ear and then nibbled on it and began caressing her again. "I said, NO!" Maxie yelled and jumped up from the bed. "We’ve only gone out once. I don’t even know you that well, and you’re trying to…" She trailed off her words as she continued to dress. Frankie’s face fell, and he looked sad and confused at the same time. "I don’t understand," he said softly. "I thought you liked me."
Maxie turned around, now fully dressed. "I do," she protested. "It’s just that, I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right. It’s too soon, you know?" Frankie looked down at the bed and said nothing. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on.
"Come on," he said sadly. "I’ll drive you home. You’ll get home early."
~*~*~*~
11:30PM
Frankie grabbed the yellow pages and thumbed through until he found the page he wanted. He cradled the phone against his ear and shoulder as his finger kept the place in the book.
"Yeah," he said. "I need a lady for a date. I want a tall blond, stacked." Frankie listened. "I got a credit card!" he answered with annoyance. "Here’s my address. I want her here in an hour or less."
Frankie hung up the phone and paced around his room. What went wrong? He still didn’t understand. He leaned against his dresser with his head down on his arms. He started crying, softly at first, and then harder as he felt the loss of something special.