never is a promise. { frankie & kyle?! }

[asf!]

Frankie had made a mission for every day. She wanted to make at least one person happy. Today, that person was Mr. Fishmen. She hadn’t even begun to think of how she was going to cheer him up, or if she even could. It was the thought that counted. She had pondered the thought that if she couldn’t even make herself happy, how could she make somebody else happy? It was time to turn the charisma on. It was also time to find some comfort food that would make one happy. But Kyle was skinny. That really sucked. Frankie looked down at the tub of ice cream in her hand, hoping he didn’t mind chocolate. If he did, he was screwed up.

She had one of her best friend’s on her shoulder. Chiquita never seemed to jump off, even if Frankie was running at the speed of light. She glanced over at her little rat, grinning. On her other shoulder, hanging from a strap was the infamous guitar that had been named Kurt. Music always soothed the soul, no matter what the song was. Frankie had discovered that long ago whenever she was in one of her depressing moods. It took everything out of her to play some songs, where as other songs just made her feel like there was nothing wrong with her and she was the only one on the face of the earth.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the boy’s dorm hallway. It was just lingering with the mean boys who would tease her. She shuddered, seeing one of the older boys laughing at her, and hearing the word freak just set her off. Frankie dropped the ice cream next to her and gave a sarcastic smile to the boy before simply taking a few steps towards him. “Go jack off or something. No wonder you don’t get laid.” She smirked, picking the ice cream up and shuffling towards Kyle’s dorm.

Frankie adjusted Chiquita on her shoulder, petting the little animal that seemed to be scared to death. She held her close to her heart, petting her little head. “It’s okay Chiquita; those boys were just being mean to mommy.” She loved the rat with her whole heart. There were specific reasons for this. She could love Chiquita whole-heartedly and know that Chiquita would love her back. She was just a rat, and Frankie made sure she was comfortable all the time. Frankie was able to nurture the little creature until it was sick of the love. That was something Frankie wanted so bad.

She held Chiquita with one hand and knocked on the door with her other, hoping to God Kyle would hurry up so she could get out of the scary hallway.

[{Kyle-Dasha}]

Swing, swing, swing
From the tangles of
My heart

is crushed by a former love
Can you help me find a way
To carry on again?

He knew Frankie was coming, of course he did. He had realized from their MySpace conversation that she was hyper and completely insane, kind of reminded him of the old Dasha. He had also realized she would probably kill him if she saw him cut. Yet, he couldn’t help it. He had just let it start as a simple thing, just to let him be clear for a moment. Then he couldn’t stop. Every time the world got fuzzy he just had to make it clear again, it was the most amazing feeling.

He stared down at the red lines on his wrist. Before when he had looked at them, he felt guilty, but also angry. He felt upset that he had to do this to feel something, but now when he looked at them he felt disappointed in himself. Is this really what he had come to? He had stopped cutting. Yes for Sammie, but also for himself. He hated the fact that he had become another depressing teenage statistic. He sighed a bit and closed his eyes. When he opened them up again, the world didn’t seem quite that fuzzy. He pressed the blade to his wrist but then stopped. He swallowed and then sighed.

He heard a knock at the door. “Oh crap.” He muttered. “Hold on, putting on some pants.” He said. He instantly went to the bathroom and rinsed the box cutter and looked frantically around for somewhere to hid it. He then threw it under the sink. He quickly washed his arm but he knew it would keep bleeding. He dried it a bit and then wrapped it in toilet paper. He had thankfully been wearing long sleeves that day and rolled down his sleeve.

He walked over to the door and opened it. The first thing he noticed was the rat, then the guitar, then the ice cream. That was strange, more then strange. “And this is your receipt for happiness?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He let her in then looked at the boys. “Oh look, it’s the emo and the freak.” Kyle turned his back to Frankie, making sure she didn’t see. He rolled up his sleeve enough for the boys to see. They noted a bit of the blood and shut up as quick as they could.

Kyle then smirked a bit and closed the door. He sat against his bed and ruffled his hair a bit. “Nice rat.” He noted. He was suddenly self-conscious of his room. He had his drawing, tons of them, pinned up on the wall. He tilted his head and pointed to the ice cream. “It’s not like I broke up with—oh wait. I did.” He blinked a bit. He was about to mention he wasn’t some heart stricken girl who broke up with someone. But he was a heart stricken guy who broke up with someone.

[asf!]

Her eyes widened at his snide remark. Of course it was her recipe for happiness. Any girl that offered to come help somebody would bring them ice cream. Ice cream made everybody happy. Her eyes widened when she heard the comments from the boy. She turned on her heel, officially beyond pissed off. “Will you please just shut up?!” Her voice was cracking. Frankie was tired of the remarks and the painful things boys said. Maybe she was a freak, but Frankie surely wasn’t ready to put up with all of this. She swallowed, trying to keep her cool until she saw Kyle’s arm. First of all, who would advertise it? Second of all, who would do something like that?

Frankie walked into the room, giving a small smile. “Thanks, Chiquita’s pretty great.” She sat down on the carpet, still taking in the image of his scarred arms. She set Chiquita on her lap, opening the tub of ice cream. She set it down next to her, taking the plastic spoons out of her bag. Her eyes darted to his arm, following it as he moved. It was almost like she wanted to demand a reason why he was acting like this. Frankie barely knew him. She was just trying to be nice.

”I’m sorry… I don’t know what it’s like to be broken up with. No one’s ever really wanted to be with me.” She said softly, looking down at the rat in her lap. “I don’t know how she stands me.” Frankie muttered, shaking her head and picking the little rat up, holding her close to her heart again.

Slowly, Frankie brought up the subject of his habits. “So, why do you do that?” She asked, raising a brow and nodding to his arm. “The whole, cutting thing I mean.” She said quickly, tossing him a spoon. “Dig in. It’ll make you feel better.”

[{Kyle-Dasha}]

Swing, swing, swing
From the tangles of
My heart

is crushed by a former love
Can you help me find a way
To carry on again?

He nodded and looked at the rat. He always liked animals; he always found they were much more intelligent then people. They could think and function, but they weren’t cursed by thinking of things like if god existed or if someone truly loved them. It must make life easy to live like that. He had often mused.

“I’m not even sure at this point if Sammie wanted to be with me. Besides, I doubt that’s true. If I could get a girlfriend then I’m extremely sure that you can find a boyfriend. I’d bet on it.” He said confidently. Frankie was cute, kind and had a good heart. Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone puts up with me.” He sighed a bit.

Then he looked up, his eyebrow raised. He rolled up his sleeve. There was only one really red spot. “I could just claim I feel on something until you took of the toilet paper to find out the real story. Also, I would never show those guys my cuts, I haven’t done it in a while. I guess it’s because the medication is wearing off.” He sighed and covered his arm. “Simple enough answer is it keeps me sane. You probably didn’t see me at the dance. I had taken two medication doses but I was almost out of my mind. Grabbing down on my box cutter was the only thing that kept me from hurting someone else.” He held out his left hand, there was still a scar. He then, nonchalantly, reached out with a spoon and got a bit scoop of ice cream. He kept the spoon in his mouth like a chocolate ice cream lollipop, that really was the way he ate ice cream.

“Oh, and schizophrenia by the way.” He mentioned off handedly. He had mentioned medication’s and doses but he did realize that she probably had no idea what he was talking about. Far as he knew, Sammie and Dasha were the only two people on campus that knew he had schizophrenia. It wasn’t really something he would advertise, but at the same time, he wasn’t ashamed of it. It wasn’t his fault he had a chemical imbalance in his mind.

[{Kyle-Dasha}]

Dasha had found the diary. More importantly she had read the diary. It was stupid to have sighed his name after each entry but she would have known his small, neat handwriting anywhere. She had her hands on her hips as she walked purposely to Kyle's dorm. One boy gave a wolf whistle. She turned and looked at them. They instantly blinked a bit and backed up. Dasha's green eyes were cold as ice, but also burning with fire. She wore a long black sweater. Those were normally wore with tights, but she wore them with white skinny jeans that looked like they had been splatter with paint. Which they had. She looked at the boy. "If you mess with me today so help me I will do something so horrible that you will not only wish you had never been born you will wish the world would have never been created so this kind of horror would have never been existed." The boy just nodded stupidly. Dasha had the diary in the shoulder bag that kept banging against her hip.

She banged on the door. "Kyle I-Forgot-Your-Middle-Name Fishmen open this door RIGHT NOW or I will….I will…" She glared at the door. "You know I'll do something evil." Yes, Dasha was back and more angry and hyper then ever. Yet, she was also sad. Kyle had started cutting again, and she felt it was all her fault. If she had actually been paying attention to him, if she had gone to the dance, these things wouldn't have happened.

Kyle heard the knocking. He couldn't help but smile. "She's back." He said. He went and opened the door, smiling.

Dasha had the notebook and gently hit him on the head with it then threw it aside. "Nice diary, liked the first entry. You do that a lot. Fuck up I mean." She glared at him. "I'm not going to even check your wrist. Kyle I just can't believe you, after all that happened. You don't know the nights of sleep I lost because of you cutting and how happy I was you quit? You know I love Sammie to bits but you can quit WITHOUT her! You're just such a fucking idiot!"

Kyle suddenly hugged her and held her close. Some people could never understand why Kyle put up with her, why he just faced it. He could've just stood up to her but he never did. Why? Dasha loved him. He knew it. It wasn't even 'deep down' she loved him, she just did. They were as close as the closest siblings…and then some. Dasha had stood up for him when no one else would, and cared when no one else noticed. He could completely forgive her previous neglect…she had been there through too much.

Dasha just stood there. "Hugging me is not going to make me forget about the fact that I'm pissed with you." But she hugged him back. She then saw the chocolate. "CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM!" She yelled and grabbed a spoon and dug in. She then looked up and saw Frankie. She noticed the rat and guitar and wondered if it was some religious ritual she wasn't aware of. Then she noticed Frankie was a girl and wondered if it was some kind of orgy. Ruling that out…well…there were no other logical options left. She then actually noticed Frankie and gasped. "Ohmygod. You're that…that GIRL!" Her eyes widened and she started laughing. Well this was a strange turn of events.

[asf!]

Frankie shook her head. “Sammie did want to be with you. It just got to her after awhile and she needed some time to herself.” She suddenly felt like Kyle and she were on the same page. He didn’t know how people put up with him; she didn’t know how people put up with her. “People put up with you because you’re harmless. Well, you’re harmless to anybody but yourself anyway. You’ve never really hurt anybody but yourself. Which by the way, you should really stop doing.” Frankie added quickly. She pulled her legs up to her chest, raising a brow at his explanation.

“I guess it sort of makes sense. I have writing as my therapy. It’s less harmful, I suppose, though it does get your thoughts going in the wrong way. Whenever I’m upset or angry, I sit down with my guitar and my notebook and I write until my hand cramps. I write until I can no longer stand my own thoughts and I break down. It doesn’t happen often. The writing happens often, but I d-d-don’t break down often.” She felt herself stuttering towards the end of her statement; quickly realizing that she hadn’t broke down in quite awhile. Not since the rooftop. She hadn’t actually broken down then either. Frankie sighed, her eyes going into a blank stare.

She realized that Kyle was schizophrenic just as he had said it. Frankie nodded and stuck her hand out. “Hello Schizophrenia, I’m Bipolar!” Frankie faked excitement, chuckling softly. She took a spoon, taking a bite of the chocolate ice cream. The knock on the door sent her flying, considering it was more than just a knock. The beat down was a bit of a surprise. Whenever Dasha interrupted and started yelling at Kyle, she picked up the ice cream and put it in her lap. She placed Chiquita next to her on the floor, spooning the ice cream in her mouth while she watched the two yell, and then hug. Frankie raised a brow. Freaky much?

”Uhm, yeah.. Have some?” Frankie couldn’t help but scoff at Dasha as she just spooned out the ice cream. “It was for therapeutic uses, but whatever.” She took the ice cream out of her lap, setting it down next to her and picking up Chiquita. She smiled at Dasha’s excitement, still a bit perturbed that she would just come in and disturb everything.

”Ohmygod. You’re that… THAT GIRL!”

That girl? That girl that ruined mini-prom? That bipolar freak? That chick that should dye her hair back to brunette? Frankie was livid, boiling, and ready to pop. She gritted her teeth, and then bit her tongue. She would not lose it. “That girl who what?” She hissed, anger dripping from her voice.

[{Kyle-Dasha}]

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. How she's had a taste of what it's like to be single again, she's probably realized how much she doesn't care about me. I mean, it will be hard for me…but she'll be fine. I always thought I wasn't good for her." He sighed a bit. Then he shook his head. "Yeah, says you, my therapist, doctor, mom, dad, sister, aunt, and most of all cousin." He shrugged a bit. "Right now, it keeps me sane, that's all it is, I guess the medication isn't working anymore."

He sighed. "I draw, but it isn't therapy. It's visual, most of the time I don't want to see those things." On the bed was an old picture he had done and he looked at it. It was him, but younger with his natural hair color. You could tell that they boy's eyes were filled with tears, but he was smiling in a happy where. His wrist was smooth except for one cut, near the edge of his wrist and it looked like a mistake. He was pressing a blade against his wrist. Kyle shivered a bit. It had just come to him to draw one day, the first time he had intentionally cut. He hadn't realized he remembered it so vividly, but once his pencil hit the paper, he realized. Then he sighed again. "I've had my share of breakdowns." He smirked then shook her hand.

Dasha suddenly looked up. "Oh? It's not Kyle's?" She instantly pushed it away. "Sorry. Sometimes when I came over to his dorm he'd have ice cream for me, of course he didn't know I was coming so of course it's yours." She gave an apologetic smile.

"Dasha would need it too. She has mental problems, they just haven't named it yet." Kyle smirked. "So you gonna wrap me up?" He showed his wrist.

Dasha glared at him. "Hates you." She then shook her head. "Give the stinging anesthetic to the masochist? No way." She rolled her eyes.

Kyle shook his head. "You would rather I do it?"

Dasha sighed and went to the bathroom. She soon came back with some anesthetic, gaze and the box cutter in her pocket. She started to clean his cuts and bandage his arm. "Found the box cutter." She muttered as she aggressively started to bandage his arm.

He winced. "I may be a masochist but can you lighten up?" He said gently.

She shook her head. "No, I can't. Do you even know the sleep I've lost on you? The hell I've had to deal with?" She sighed. She then looked at Frankie, who seemed very anger. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just remember you dancing with Steven. Got upset and I left. Don't like him anymore." She honestly hadn't thought of him for a while and now that she did, she didn't feel anything for him. She obviously wasn't doing very well with a first impression.

[asf!]

Frankie shook her head, starting to feel a little bit of the way Sammie had. She shrugged. “Kyle, I think Sammie will be back. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I think she’ll be back sooner or later. Maybe it will be later, but if she’s that important than she’s worth the wait.” She cocked her head to the side. Medication not working was out of the question for her. If that even began to happen she stayed in her room for what seemed like days until she could get a doctor’s appointment and get a medication that actually worked. Frankie refused to close control in front of people again. “If the medication isn’t working then you need to start a new kind. Self harm isn’t a good thing. Therapists don’t do shit.”

Her hand darted to the picture on the bed Kyle had looked at. She looked at it, her eyes widening with disbelief. All of this seemed to be some kind of plead for attention. She bit down on her bottom lip, putting the picture back where she had found it. “You should find something that takes you out of your cutting zone. That might sound really strange, but what I mean is my writing keeps me from hurting myself and others. You should find something that does that for you.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, slowly shoving the ice cream in Dasha’s direction. “It’s okay, you can have some. I don’t really mind.” Frankie hadn’t meant to sound so cruel, so letting her have some of the ice cream would hopefully make up for it. “Mental problems? There should be a club for this kind of stuff, honestly.”

Frankie watched her bandage Kyle up, her eyes moving from his arm to the picture on the bed. She took a bite of the ice cream, trying to keep her mind off of the images in front of her. “Steven...” She trailed off, the memory coming back to her like it had only happened moments ago. He had told her she looked beautiful, then asked her to dance. All of a sudden she felt like she was in his arms again. Quickly, Frankie shook her head, driving the memory away.

”Can you never bring his name up again?” She asked.

[/blockquote]