Here’s chapter 19 of the new book, “Dangerous Roommate.” Enjoy reading. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comment section below.
An hour later, Frank revealed himself wearing the best of himself. The best makeup, the best clothes, the best frown. He was at a loss for words when he tightened his grip on the camera he had in hand. He held it close to his chest as if his life depended on it, although he had no idea why Stefan had asked him to bring it with him.
Despite feeling the impending doom, he looked colorful. He wore a pastel-colored Gothic Lolita-inspired outfit that matched his fluffed chocolate brown wavy, long hair reaching below his shoulders. He didn’t even need to wear a wig to match his clothes. Unlike most designs, he had it customized to reveal his flat abdomen. The skirt barely reached his knees. Though he was a man, his body was voluptuous enough to match the curves and the cuts of his clothes.
His eyes, now with makeup, looked tantalizing with lash extensions, and his cheeks blushed. His lips were glossed with pink lipstick and glitter. To accentuate the look, he had a fluffy cat-ear headband on. Below, he had the same high-cut underwear, same lingerie straps, and same sheer black stockings Stefan had in hand earlier, then paired with laced gloves and platform boots.
Feeling ready, he left his room and walked downstairs. He swiveled his head, looking downward, and caught Stefan staring at him. His face was tight. No reaction. Despite feeling the rising uneasiness inside his being, he went on until he reached the ground. He walked in his direction with his arms crossed, hugging the device in hand.
Bedazzled by his beauty, Stefan’s eyes wouldn’t stop wandering, tracing every line on his face. But when his gaze caught Frank’s, he felt his profound depth flying straight to its target—his soul. He felt his throat constricting. His body was unable to move an inch from where he stood.
At first glance, you would have never thought this was a man. If nobody knew he was Frank, then nobody would. He’d always thought he was a dull, average man. But he hated to tell himself he was proven wrong. Because underneath his facade, this man had a depth and beauty he’d never seen before.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in his baritone, taking his hand loosely while gazing at him. Though he had always seen Frank’s boring T-shirt and sweatpants and had gotten used to them, he looked like he was searching for any sign of him. However, the longer he kept his eyes glued to him, he only found himself gazing at this beautiful, stunning creature before him. It surprised him that he only took an hour to prepare for this.
“What’s your name?”
Frank’s eyes widened and narrowed in wonder. He gave him a gaze as if he was trying to understand what he had told him. And that same gaze caught Stefan off guard. Without a word, Frank shook his head as he gave him a slight shrug, so slight that he barely noticed it. But thanks to Stefan’s skillful, razor-sharp eyes, he noticed it.
Stefan’s snort was eloquent. “No, I mean your name.”
When Frank realized it, he stopped dead and blinked. “I don’t know. I’ve never given myself any name.”
“Right. I’ll name you,” Stefan said, leaving Frank surprised—his eyes widened, his nostrils flared, his pink lips twitched, and his shoulders reached his ears. Although he noticed Frank’s unease, he continued. “But promise me, you wouldn’t allow somebody else to call you like that except me.”
Frank nodded. “I promise.”
Satisfied, Stefan hummed, flexing his index finger on his chin while thinking of the possible names he could think of. Then, when his eyes caught his headband, he smiled. “From now on, I’ll call you Kitty.”
“Kitty?” Frank repeated in an octave higher than his talking voice.
“It means pure. And I like it.” Stefan paused and cleared his throat, eyeing him. “I mean, I want it.”
“Why?” Frank stuttered with his distinct achy voice. It sounded like he was curious to know but too shy, anticipating but in denial.
“I want the real Frank to live with me. So, Kitty suits you.” Stefan flashed a quick but faint smile, leaving the man at a loss for words. He took the camera from his hands and turned his back, lowering his body to install the cable to connect it to the hundred-inch screen.
“What are you doing?”
When the display was on and the camera installed on the tripod he had prepared earlier, feeling satisfied with the angle, he moved his attention to Frank. He paused to spare time to scan him, allowing his eyes to meander, tracing every inch of his body.
Little did he know Frank was feeling his eyes touching his skin, from his face, neck, and shoulders. As his body continued to convulse, he curled his fists, thinking it was enough to keep his emotional barometer in check and, perhaps, let his self-control on guard. Only when Stefan pulled away and went on with the equipment did he feel the air less closed. But it was cut short when he saw him pause again, shooting him an interested stare.
“Sit,” Stefan said, beckoning him.
Frank stood there, sighing heavily. “Is it filming?” he stuttered, watching him nod. Though defiance swelled his gut, his body wanted something else. His face was flushing red as he obeyed and sat on the couch.
Stefan dared to walk closer to him and slowly lowered his body to cup his face. “Can I touch your hair?”
His first thought was to back away. But then, why would he? It was too late for him to move. He was already there, sitting, and this man was above him, trapping him with both arms pressed on either side of his shoulders. On the flip side, he was tied to nobody. If this man wanted to touch him, why couldn’t he?
After all, Stefan was the only one who encouraged him to reveal the real Frank.
But who was the real Frank? He sure knew he had many faces.
One, he was a successful artist. One of the best sculptors known for selling expensive art. Two, despite coming from a middle-class family, years of blood, sweat, and tears had led him to reach the level where he was now—leading a department of one of the best art schools in the country. Three, deep down, he also knew he had this side of him that consumed him and destroyed his family and his life.
Even when he felt welcomed at this point with Stefan, he wasn’t frank enough to admit who he truly was. The fourth face.
And even if he knew, he had no idea how this side of him could consume him more, just as it always had been.
Damn. He didn’t know. Or maybe, he did. But what if he would let Stefan continue? Would that help him know himself a little bit better?
He looked away and dropped his head down, so some of his hair fell forward. He thought about holding a part of Stefan, too. But no. He would let him come closer.
And Stefan did.
His hand was big, his fingers calloused but gentle as they reached out. The intoxicating combination sparked a renewed tingling deep in his belly. His breath caught, but Stefan didn’t go for the chocolate hair hanging before him. Instead, his fingertips made contact with an earring hanging on his right ear. Though it was brief, Frank felt a blast of heat through his skin as if his touch was a lit match. In no time, the sensation traveled throughout his body as if he’d spiked a fever.
His fingers moved to his head, combing the strands while his lean forearm brushed against his shoulders. His palm was warm. His arm was solid and strong.
Frank lifted his eyes to him, gazing at him, wondering what kind of man Stefan was. He thought he was a rough-edged man prone to wild passion, and wild passion was what he was seeking through him—and the same thing he needed to be inspired.
Thank you so much for spending time reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote this part months ago. This chapter, in particular, reminded me of those times when I sat before my desk, seemingly prepared to type in words, but I struggled to keep it up.
It took an external motivation to get it through, and, at that time, the NaNoWriMo event was upcoming. At that time, I thought, “This could be a great opportunity to try and give this a shot one more time. You’d done an excellent job with ‘The Rival,’ so you could do it, Mecyll.”
You know, it’s easier said than done because writing a chapter with a clear intent to finish it requires more than just a skill. Since I started writing fiction, I realized how much this work demands my ability to be naked and the guarantees to answer whether I was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to face my fears, conscious or unconscious.
So, being able to write this down meant I managed despite the countless times dancing around with depression and enjoying the roller coaster rides my anxiety provided me.
This is why I don’t know how to thank you for your support, regardless of the scale or contribution size, from sharing my work with others or buying my books. It doesn’t matter because, for me, every small act you show is appreciated.
Again, thank you, and have a great day!
If you like to support my writing life, here’s what you can do:
- Get a copy of “The Rival” Uncensored Gay Romance Novel.
- Read “Dr. Clay” (Cult of Eros #1)
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