𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙚.

                               even if frank’s never been to a concert he can easily categorize himself as the type who bobs with a bottle in his hand as a crutch, maybe jumps a little bit during the chorus. embarrassing — being in the audience shouldn’t be anxiety-inducing, but he immediately finds himself in the throes of overthinking. ‘   okay, yeah. judgement-free zone. you wanna take a shot ?    ’

                           they’d both rather take pictures of one another, but it seems sort of evil to so much as shirk at the request from her mom. plus he’ll take any chance to prolong the memory of tonight, not just because the sight of her in black was enough for heat to immediately prick the back of his neck, he thinks his jaw might have actually, physically dropped when he saw her. ‘   i heard there’s a photo booth around here somewhere. also an aylin.   ’

                          ‘   what’s concert etiquette, i’ve never been to one. should i stand in the back, or is it a sort of free for all thing ?   ’

                            he nods absently and tries to ignore the sting that comes from the exhaustion in carmichael’s tone. frank has to remind himself that this isn’t about him, that his job was a job, which means, that in some part their friendship was part of it. he tries to reconcile with this, thinking that making friends is part of any job and it doesn’t lessen the sincerity of it, finding ways to feel as though he hasn’t been lied to. because this isn’t about him. it isn’t, but his eyes are stinging, and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s burying his head in a wrenched up collar, shirt untucked from the force. he turns around, waves his hand like he’s trying to swat away a fly, there’s nothing to worry about, he doesn’t want carmichael to be concerned, it just happens sometimes. the crying, an unfortunate side effect from his birth. if things weren’t so tense he’d explain how when he was a baby he cried non stop for two days straight. so really, this is basically medical. ‘   no, it’s fine. it’s all good. we’re good. seriously.   ’ spoken with his back still towards him, takes a sharp inhale to somewhat stabilize himself before his shirt collar falls back down. as far as he knows these could be their last words in the foreseeable future, and it’s his duty, as a friend to make sure they count. frank turns back around but it’s part of a motion that will end with him leaving. ‘   um, i’m pretty shit at this. as you can see. and i don’t ... understand it. but you’re gonna get through this. which obviously. because that’s the only option. but i hope, that it’s, like maybe that’s a reprieve to you.   ’ and frank will be there, on the other end of through it, always.

                            ‘   yeah, agreed.   ’ cat’s been good, no accidents since. he doesn’t actually feel that uncomfortable, but his body indicates otherwise, the way he fidgets with his hands like he’s moulding a ball of clay between, the awkward, off-balance amble towards parker. ‘   i’m good, thanks.   ’ he scratches the back of his neck, bitten down nails don’t leave a mark but there’ll probably be a red streak. ‘   i was wondering if i could ask you a favour. it’s sort of a biggie.   ’ biggie ? he clears his throat. ‘   a big one.   ’

                            ‘   the question’s why they’re so loud to begin with. it just, doesn’t seem like something that should make that much noise.   ’ he doesn’t drink enough smoothies for him to be this invested in it, and successfully curbs the slew of questions he’s just come up with about blenders because he doesn’t want an excessive interest in blenders to become a personality trait. ‘   let me know if you do. and if you do, i can definitely help with the taste testing part of it. unless you’re just reading the labels then ... well i could help with that too it just wouldn’t be as tasty.    ’ he still has three years left here, and having a steadfast breakfast option would help immensely. ‘   where is he working ?    ’ which seems stands out as weirdly adulty to him, maybe because he’s never been around anyone with a conventional job or even had one himself. ‘   wait, you’re allowed to say right ?   ’ only further proving his naiveté when it comes to, all this. 

                            ‘   lots of it.   ’ sometimes it still doesn’t feel like enough, but that’s greediness at play, making a futile effort to compensate for lost time, even though he knows, deep down that even with forever granted, it won’t bring back those five years. it’s useless to dwell, insane even when she’s right in front of him, but he thinks they probably could’ve really used each other in those years apart. then again, maybe they wouldn’t have each other now if they had each other then, he could run in circles like a cat after it’s own tail, doting on what if’s. it’s a privileged problem to have, getting to regret over lost time and not lost people. it brings him back to her, here. alive. in love. ‘   yeah me neither. for me, i mean.   ’ which is perhaps more obvious. luna’s perhaps one of the most adaptable people he knows and she could easily make a career out of this is she had to. frank’s not so pragmatic, privileged enough to let want lead his decisions, a byproduct of enough money and parents who cared so little he mistook it for freedom. ‘   just a hunch, but i think you’d really like college. i think you’d do really well.   ’ and he wants her to be at ease with wanting, he thinks that if nothing else that’s what he can give her. he’s seen her write in the spare time she has here, it would be doable, but the diploma it’s — - gallagher’s always felt vaguely like an in between, a half-haven and half-limbo, and he doesn’t quite know where she’s been in the time he’s spent without her, but he knows she has her mother now, fully, and the world beyond gallagher would be lucky to have her in it. ‘   oh, a porch swing sounds great.    ’ he agrees emphatically, nearly piercing the hush of the library with his excitement. ‘   oh man, there’s so many places. it can be a travelling porch swing. is your mom still living in connecticut ?   ’

                              ‘   good for her.   ’ there’s a nod of approval, hoping it provided her with some sort of catharsis, even if it was only temporary. concern pulls at his features, understandably, carmichael has somewhat of a target on his back, because it’s not like a no bullying will be tolerated e-mail is going to stop it, especially at gallagher — he just hopes no one has any more sinister plans for him. ‘   this is the part where you say but you should see the other guy, so i don’t worry that you’re gonna get jumped and beaten senseless.    ’ he says, though in a perfect world no one would be hitting anyone. violence makes him squeamish. ‘   i won’t, my head is already proportionally too big for my body.   ’ states this matter-of-factly. there’s something different in his demeanour, and frank likes it. he likes it a lot. it saddens him to think that there wasn’t really a time before this that carmichael could be himself, but he knows the tells of regretting wasted time — has felt it in the nights wishing he was with luna when she was away, so he knows what to focus on so it doesn’t linger. he focuses on the now, and the rest of his life and the joy it will be to re-meet carmichael. ‘   millions. we’ll split. seventy forty. to me. because i gave you the idea. it’s only fair.   ’

insta posts :) idt he captions them so .. post gallagher methinks @lunaseongs 

                             ‘   rough. must’ve gotten a bit better the older you got though right ?   ’ or he hopes, he wouldn’t know, his parents are very white and emotionally absent, there might be a correlation somewhere in there. frank does believe her, because she was pretty upfront about having a fake relationship and he’s oblivious to the contradiction in that statement. ‘   so you’re super pretty and super smart which leaves ... whatever the equivalent is of a dad wanting his son to be a football star so that he can follow in his footsteps ?   ’ his gaze flashes back to her, trying to read something — momentarily worried that allister’s fallen for someone who doesn’t feel the same, while also knowing that he’s not in the position to garner any sympathy. ‘   well i guess i’d figure out if i was fully pretending or not.   ’

                             he should know by now to drop the small talk and cut right to the chase with parker, emphasis on the should. he ambles up to parker, giving one of those awkward half-waves of acknowledgement with a polite smile to match. ‘    don’t worry, no cat poop this time.    ’ it’s a joke that, with his execution, would grant him smattered applause at best. ‘   how’s it going ?   ’

                          he's taken aback, parted lips about to say a million things but none of them come to fruition. the silence that settles instead is thick, and he doesn’t know how to get through it. the only thing frank can do to keep this from hurting more than it already does is take his frustration and make it into a challenge. he’s going to force himself to understand. ‘   okay. so you had to do it.    ’ it’s spoken in a measured breath, right down to the last syllable, anymore and his words would have wavered, and truthfully, part of him is trying to save face because he feels as though he might cry, which might be okay if carmichael was the only one in the cell, but he isn’t. ‘   but why ? i’m trying my best here and i’m not, i didn’t come here to interrogate you but — you’ve gotta give me, i just need something. to help me understand.   ’ so he can be a better friend, because right now he feels entirely helpless.

                                his hand finds hers in a matter of seconds, the comfort of being held however minute, enough for him to think straight. to listen to her instead of being wrapped up in playing a mental, meticulous game of what he’s going to say, editing every future sentence in his head like it’s a first draft, scared that if he gets it wrong he might lose her, even though rationally, he knows she’s not going to leave. he forgets all of that, in favour of her, in favour of being wrapped up in her, thinking it near sacrilege to miss anything she has to say in favour of his own neurotic, self-concerned thoughts. and it’s simple, and true — like most things are at their core. ‘   and we will talk about everything. promise.   ’ he doesn’t want to let go of her hand but his pinky circles gently around her knuckle, a makeshift pinky swear. by now it’s clear that neither of them are new to hardship, but they’re out of practice with sharing it with one another. but he thinks half of love is loving in spite of and loving through. or he thinks so, it’s clear now t hat he’s never been in love until now, going through a constant realization of oh, this is what being in love is like, this is what love is. even now, especially now, he feels grateful, to be able to get to look at her look at him, even if it’s flecked with concern. he nods, believes her, and it’s something of a spell, her ability to cut through an otherwise deep-seated worry, and get him to laugh too. ‘   it’s practically a rite of passage to not know what the fuck you’re doing in your twenties i think.   ’ another laugh brackets the sentiment, it is funny to think, that even without the spies and staged ( one the verb, the other an adjective ) deaths, everyone deals with twenty-one, they’re just dealing with twenty-one and then some. ‘   feel like before we know it we’ll be all wrinkly, sitting in rocking chairs on a porch somewhere.   ’ secretly he can’t wait to get old, with cat in his lap because he’s going to live forever, falling asleep in the sun with luna by his side. 

                             '   hey, thanks. yeah, guess i, kinda grew into myself. which you probably can’t relate to. like, you just seem like you’ve been pretty all your life. i’m right, right ?   ’ frank was an ugly child and an uglier baby, which is why he thinks his parents have very few pictures of him when he was younger. or  they just didn’t care, but that’s more depressing. ‘   probably a good choice.   ’ he wraps it back up and pockets it, even though he should just throw it out. ‘   allister and not thinking. seems more and more like a match made in heaven. i’ve gotta say, you guys were really good at pretending.   ’

                                 ‘   you mean those bruises aren’t from the mission ? wait, are they from gigi ? your ex fake girlfriend ?   ’ he puts a pointed emphasis on the fake to show that he knows, but it all seems so minor in the grand scheme of things that he can’t find it in himself to be properly mad. and frank’s sporting such a cheery, sincere grin one would almost expect that he’d forgotten carmichael ever lied in the first place. ‘   you know she called me cute the other day. is that why you cut your hair to look just like mine ? trying to get her back ?   ’ which may have been true at the start of the semester, but without harlowe to cut it for him, he hasn’t bothered with it at all, and he’s struck with an intense relief that he didn’t lose carmichael, in the mission or otherwise. that if things hadn’t gone so awry with harlowe, he may have made the same mistakes with carmichael, said one too many things that couldn’t be taken back. his hand reaches to swipe up the back of carmie’s head, freshly shaved hair deserving to be on an oddly satisfying compilation and if he can’t get it with his own hair then his will have to do. ‘   very nice.    ’ he approves before looking down at the destruction. ‘   it looks a bit like modern art.   ’ 

                                    frank knows that the truth doesn’t always keep people safe, but this isn’t one of those times. if he has his fact straights, and it embarrasses him that he might very well not, like he’s always ten steps behind whatever’s going on — but if he does, then gallagher’s safer for having him, all of them, behind bars. because his lie hadn’t been to protect anyone here but himself. but he loves allister, carmichael, so there’s a thwarted sense of relief, that although his methods of self-preservation are wrong, that’s just what they are - a way of keeping himself out of danger. it’s better than seeing him hurt. or worse. ‘   were you, are you being forced ? to do all this ?   ’ it’s the only reasonable explanation, carmichael would never choose to deliberately hurt anyone. 

                                ‘   i’m surprised a silent blender hasn’t been invented yet.    ’ he’s doesn’t mind the noise but could go without everyone knowing he’s blending something — self-conscious that he’s annoying who hears it. ‘   yeah, the like ... can’t describe it either but i know what you mean.   ’ he scrunches his nose at the thought. ‘   do you think that’s the taste of actual protein ?   ’ thinks the mark of a good protein bar is how well that flavour can be masked. of course he knew what she’s telling him, in theory, or in a mentioned by luna sort of way, but his brows still rise as if he’s hearing it for the first time. ‘   right. yeah. that’s — that’s heavy stuff. glad there’s been none of that this year.   ’ because it’s laughable how dead he’d be if he were the target.