Page 12 of Give Me What You Will

“Coward!” Frankie yelled after him.

Sammy paused mid-stride, shoulders straightening as he turned, “Go away, Frankie. I’m serious.”

“That’s it? Not a proper fuck you? C’mon, man, if you wanna end this like you say you do, maybe you should make me believe it first.” Frankie strode determinedly forward. “I ain’t leavin’. I ain’t givin’ up on 15 years over some dumb mistake—”

The words died in his throat as Sammy, who was taller by a few inches and had a longer reach, grabbed him unexpectedly by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him backward into the alley behind the Hot Dog Palace. His back hit against the brick building, letting out a whoosh of air from his lungs.

He felt the solid weight of Sammy pressing him against the bricks.

The alleyway was dark, secluded, and soaked from the rain earlier, but he noticed none of it. His eyes were riveted on the darkness reflected in Sammy’s angry gaze.

“I don’t think you understand why this has to end, Frankie.” Sammy’s hot breath fanned his lips. “I can’t keep being your friend.”

Fear clutched at his chest.

No. No. No.

All the bravado, all the tough guy shit drained from him, and he reached for Sammy’s hand on his jacket, gripping it.

“Why not?” he heard his voice crack, and he couldn’t help it. He missed his best friend. It had been incredibly hard without him these last few months, and then when Nona died, he damned near forgot how to breathe whenever he thought about him.

The grief of losing them both was unbearable.

And he’d do anything to make this right between them.

Anything.

“Sammy, I’m sorry,” Frankie breathed. “I fuckin’ can’t go back without fixin’ this, man. I love you…”

Sammy averted his gaze and abruptly released him, shoulders tense. He recognized the look. He was about to leave—again. And he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t let him.

Frankie pushed off the wall, reaching for him, grabbing him by the back of the neck, forcing him to stay.

Just stay.

Don’t leave me again.

Please.

“What do you want, huh?” Frankie asked, hearing the desperation in his tone. Sammy resisted, attempting to pull back, but he refused to let him. “What do I have to do to, Sammy?”

Sammy shuddered, his resistance draining away as his hands returned to Frankie’s jacket, clutching him… shaking. He wasn’t sure if Sammy wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

“Tell me,” Frankie whispered urgently. “Tell me how to fix this.”

“You can’t.”

“Let me try. I need you, Sammy.”

“You don’t,” he whispered, his eyes shut as though refusing to look at him.

“Look me in the eyes then and tell me our friendship is over.”

A sound, so weak, so needy, crawled out of Sammy’s throat. Something about that noise and the strain in his features, the way the moonlight reflected over the side of his face…

Heart racing, he drew Sammy closer, needing to soothe whatever pain he had. Because he could see it. He captured the side of his face, wanting to see his eyes, wanting to…

He should’ve been prepared for what happened next.