Chapter Text
I wake to the sun shining through Frankie’s apartment window, the light assaulting my eyes. Frankie lays beside me, breathing softly, unruly curls spread out atop the soft, linen pillowcase. I watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls. It's serene, to be in his presence, just the two of us and bustling of the city from outside the window. The soft morning light catches on his skin and the curls in his hair, making him glow. He looks so peaceful, just laying there, white sheets pulled up to under his armpits, shirt off, exposing his slightly muscled chest.
He began to stir, groggily wiping the sleep from his eyes, he sits up, “You like what you see?”
“Very much.” I respond, sure my face is flush from embarrassment.
He leans over me, his honey brown eyes meet my green ones. He tucks my hair behind my ear and leans closer, his mouth not more than a centimeter away from mine. I inhale sharply as he presses his lips against mine and slowly pulls away. The feeling of his lips lingers on mine as he says, “Good morning Alter.” He tries to be sly but his cheeks burn red, just like mine probably look right now.
He rolls over me, an attempt to get to his dresser, which he does successfully. But he manages to crush my legs in the process. I let out a soft groan, “ Ow! Frankie!”
“I'm sorry, love.” He sits back on the bed, just for a moment, to kiss my cheek in apology. This boy will be the death of me, I swear.
He rifles through his drawers, getting ready for the day, while I rub slow circles on my face in an attempt to fully wake up. Rising slowly off the bed, I approach Frankie, gingerly wrapping my arms around his now clothed torso. He is taller than me, a characteristic I rather like actually. I nuzzle my head against his neck, breathing in his herbal cologne and natural Frankie smell.
“We’ve got that thing today, a meeting with them, what's their name?”
“The Sheins,” I murmur, looking at his hands fumbling as he tries to put his tie on. “Here, let me help.”
“I can tie my tie perfectly fine by myself thank you.”
I drowsily sway as Frankie spins away from me to tie his tie and says softly, “C’mon boychik, we’ve got things to do and places to be, wake up.”
I blink hard in yet another attempt to wake up fully, “Ugh, Do you think we could go grab a coffee and maybe a few danishes at Lieb’s on Maxwell street before our meeting, since we’re heading in that direction anyway?”
“Of course, whatever else is a job for if not to make money to spend,” Frankie says with a grin.
I bend down to the bottom drawers of the dresser, where I keep my clothes at Frankie’s place. I'm over here so much, I'm surprised it doesn't raise suspicion, but none of the kids seem to notice. I guess they just see us as close friends who sleep in the same bed together a lot. I have a feeling my mother knows something is up, but she has, thankfully, never said anything about it.
I gather my clothes and almost run into Frankie as I turn to place them on his bed so I can get dressed. We shuffle awkwardly for a moment until he grabs my shoulders and moves me to his right, “There we go,” He says with a chuckle.
Now that we are situated, I begin to remove off my nightshirt, still slightly sweaty from sleep. I catch Frankie’s eyes glued to my torso, “You like what you see?” I asked, repeating his question from earlier.
“Very much,” he responds, cheeks burning red.
When I first met Frankie, I was sure he had kissed and even been with tons of girls. It’s moments like this, where he blushes just from being caught staring, proves that theory so dreadfully wrong.
I try to finish pulling on my clothes. My cotton undershirt, then my tzitzit, then brown slacks. My routine gets interrupted as Frankie notices me tucking in my tzitzit. We share a glance in understanding, it's hard to accept that you have to americanise yourself, but the risks are unforgiving if you don't. I continue my repetitive routine; white over-shirt, then suspenders, my wool sweater, then finally I shove my newsboy hat over my unruly curls and yarmulke.
“Let’s go, we wouldn't want to be late, especially with our stop at Lieb’s, now would we.” Frankie says with a smirk.
“No,” I respond also smiling, “We wouldn't.”
We walk out of Frankie’s bedroom, hands side by side but not daring enough to touch. I smile as we pass the door post, a brass mezuzah I bought for Frankie is nailed on the architrave.
I turn to look at him, and with no knowledge if there are still kids around, we share a chaste kiss. We separate, his eyes boring into mine. Honey brown meeting bottle glass green.