YOU CAN'T KILL THE SPEW!!!

Mel doesn’t know how to tell Frank that she doesn’t like his new sheets. So when he asks if she wants to stay over at his place a second time—after spending a sleepless night on the first—she makes up an excuse. And when he asks another time, she makes up another excuse.

Becca wants to come over; I’m too tired to go anywhere right now; I’m sorry I didn’t see that you had texted me.

They weren’t good excuses, but Mel didn’t know how to tell them that the way silk felt made her want to crawl out of her skin. She supposed she could be straightforward and honest about it, but she didn’t want to come off as demanding or make him change anything about his lifestyle or the things he liked. So, coming up with excuses seemed like the lesser of two evils at first. Maybe she could wait it out until he changed his sheets back to the cotton ones she actually liked.

Frank apparently had different plans.

Mel doesn’t get visitors often, so she nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears a knock at the door. She marks her place in her book—one of her preferred routines when winding down for bed—and makes her way to the door. She only opens it after looking through the peephole and seeing that it’s Frank.

“Frank, what’re—”

“Did I do something wrong?” There’s a look in his eye that Mel isn’t sure she’s seen before, at least not on him; not directed at her. He’s worried—panicked, even.

“No, why would you think that?” Mel asks, immediately feeling bad. She knows that she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about her real reasons for avoiding staying over at his house.

“Because you don’t want to stay the night? You aren’t answering my messages?”

Mel feels a rock in the pit of her stomach. She knows she needs to come clean.

Stepping aside, she lets him into the apartment, apologizing as she closes and locks the door behind him.

“It’s nothing you did,” she insists. “I mean, not intentionally.”

“Intentionally?” 

Mel wants to kick herself.

“No, no— I just mean… I haven’t been ignoring your texts on purpose or anything, and I like coming over to your house but…” She wrings her hands together, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I really, really hate your bedsheets. I can’t touch them. I don’t want to sleep on them, but I know you like them so I’d never ask you to change—”

Mel cuts herself off as Frank suddenly lets out a bark of laughter. She stares at him, utterly confused.

“Mel, baby, you could’ve just told me you don’t like the way silk feels,” he says, closing the distance between them, grasping gently at her elbows.

“But you like them—”

Frank shakes his head and snorts. “Fuck those sheets, sweetheart. I’ll sleep on whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

“Well, kid, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

Frank knows what she’s getting at but rolls his eyes and pretends that he doesn’t. He crosses his arms and says, obtusely, “The fuck does that even mean, Dana?”

“You know damn well what it means.” She shoves his shoulder lightly and Frank feels like a kid being scolded for stealing a cookie out of the cookie jar. “You can’t be married to Abby and keep stringin’ Mel along.”

“Mel and I are just friends.” Frank scoffs and can’t help himself as he looks across the nurse’s station, spotting Mel not too far off talking to Samira.

Mel has never liked the smell of campfires—or in this case, a bonfire. She hates how the smoke smell seeps into her hair, her clothes, makes her eyes burn and her nose itch… Still, she stays quiet. It’s not often that she gets invited out to do things and the last thing she wants is to sour anyone else’s mood.

So, she grins and bears it, eating a smore or two and takes little sips of the ginger ale she and Frank had brought with them since neither of them drank. But eventually, she gets a bit restless, and without even having to say a word, Frank notices. She feels him gently nudge her knee with his.

“You wanna go for a little walk?” he suggests, nodding his head towards the shoreline.

Mel nods and the two get up. Everyone around them is too busy with their own forms of entertainment to pay them much mind and Mel finds herself feeling grateful not to get held up.

They leave their sandals behind, and Mel decides she has a love-hate relationship with how the wet sand feels between her toes. She walks a little closer to the rolling waves and while it’s cold at first, she finds it soothing to her overwhelmed nerves.

Frank and Mel’s fingers lace together as they walk, talking about nothing and everything and enjoying the night breeze.

“We didn’t have to come, y’know,” Frank says after a moment of silence. “I know it can all be overwhelming, so we could’ve stayed home, or—”

“Oh, no,” Mel shakes her head, cutting him off. “I wanted to.”

This time last year they’d spent the Fourth of July in drastically different ways and if anyone had told Mel then that the following year she’d be enjoying the holiday with Frank as her boyfriend she would’ve thought they were crazy.

She stops after a moment to turn and look up at him, smiling. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze as she says, “I’m glad I came here with you.”

She stands on her tiptoes, leaning in for a kiss. As their lips touch, she can hear the first poppings of fireworks going off over the water and the mildly drunken cheers of their coworkers a few yards down.

“Can you help me?” Mel stands in the doorway to their bedroom, watching Frank expectantly as he pulls his shirt on, over his head and turns to look at her.

“Sure, baby, what’s up?” Mel simply holds up her hand in response.

Ah, right.

Two fingers are wrapped in a stint, a product of their unforgiving jobs as ER doctors—an accidental slipup in moving a patient. She could still use her hand—mostly—but trying to braid her hair was next to impossible. It wasn’t the first time Frank had to braid it for her, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Thankfully, he liked to think that he was getting rather good at it.

Entering the bathroom, Frank stands behind her in front of the mirror. He gently brushes out her long hair—comparable to gold, he thinks—before sectioning it and grabbing the hair tie Mel hands back to him.

Carefully, he braids it just how he knows she likes it—he’d been practicing—feeling Mel’s gaze on him through their reflection as his brow furrows in concentration.

He’d already known how to braid because of Penny. They’d watched enough princess movies for the girl to get it in her head that she wanted to look like Anna and Elsa and Rapunzel. His braiding had only improved since then—especially since Mel could be very particular in how she liked it to be done.

Not too loose but not too tight, not too messy or bunched up at the base of her neck, and certainly not lopsided.

Frank had it down to a science now.

When he finishes, he takes a step back and says, “Whaddya think?”

Mel takes special care to look it over, observing his handiwork with a critical eye before he sees a smile break out over her lips. Turning to look at him, she nods in approval and says, “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Frank smiles back, meeting her halfway as she steps forward and leans up to kiss him.

Mel isn’t sure how much of a surprise it really is, as she gets prepared for an ultrasound. The blood results had come back, confirming that she is, indeed, pregnant and she hasn’t really let it fully sink in yet.

They had been careful; they weren’t prepared for this; they were supposed to start trying in a year.

Despite both of their nerves being rattled at the revelation, and what Mel can only assume is elation on Frank’s part, Mel feels calmer than she thought she would. She’d thought that surely she’d be a mess.

Yet, as Frank’s hands caress either side of her face, she feels at peace. Along with the nerves, she allows herself to feel excited.

“It’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out,” Frank tells her, sweetly. And then, unable to quell his own excitement, he adds, “We’re having a baby…”

They are. They really are.

Mel clings to his wrists as the emotion finally starts to hit her. Softly, she parrots, “We’re having a baby…”

Frank wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d invited Mel and Becca to join him and his kids to go swimming. But as he pushed past the gate, scanning the area for the two—they said they’d meet him here—his eyes weren’t ready for what they landed on.

On the opposite side of the pool, laid out on the chairs, under a big umbrella, were the girls. More specifically, there was Mel, in a yellow polkadot two piece—a true feast for his eyes—and he couldn’t help but stare.

“There you guys are! We’ve been waiting!” Becca called, giggling as the kids rushed over to give her hugs.

“Uh, yeah,” Frank said, pulling himself out of his trance, raking a hand through his hair in an attempt to pull himself together. “Sorry, Penny couldn’t decide on which of her swimsuits to wear.”

“It was important!” Penny defended with a pout, making Becca and Mel giggle. “Can we go swim now?”

Frank could barely finish agreeing to let them go before they were taking off to play under one of the fountains.

He shook his head with a sigh and set their bags down. He’d been preemptive with applying sunscreen, so when he removed his shirt, hearing Becca’s gasp, he wondered if he’d missed a spot or didn’t rub it in well enough.

“Your chest is really hairy, Frank,” Becca said, leaving Frank wondering if he should feel self conscious or not.

“Oh, uh…” He gave himself a once over. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, you look good,” Mel blurted out, and Frank couldn’t be sure if she was blushing or if her cheeks were red from the summer heat.

Dating Frank was easy. They’d fallen into a bit of a routine and Mel felt content. Go to work; come home; eat dinner; spend time together; go to bed. And while their activities together sometimes varied, going from innocently watching a movie to getting their neighbors on the verge of a noise complaint, Mel felt content.

Then, Frank wanted to properly introduce his kids to her, and Mel’s world tilted on its axis slightly. She knew things were getting more serious and she’d expected them to, but it didn’t keep her from being nervous as hell to meet his children.

While Penny had taken to her without a hitch, Tanner was shy and quiet, barely wanting to engage with her when they first met. It had been a bit disheartening at first, but Mel couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know how she would’ve reacted if her parents divorced when she was a kid, but she can assume that it wouldn’t have been much different than Tanner.

Still, Mel tried her best to interact with the boy without being pushy and offering him space if he didn’t seem to want much to do with her. Her efforts seemed to pay off, eventually, when she managed to bond with him over making bracelets.

“I saw the one you made for your daddy,” Mel said. “You did a really good job. Do you think you could show me how you do it?”

“Okay.” A bashful look adorned Tanner’s face, but the tiny smile on his lips told Mel that he was flattered.

Mel spent the next hour or so nodding along to Tanner’s instructions and suggestions, every so often glancing up from where they’re sat on the livingroom floor to Frank. Penny was curled against his side on the couch, fast asleep with Frank’s arm around her. Mel and Frank shared a brief smile before Frank addressed Tanner.

“Alright kiddo, start wrapping up. It’s time for bed.”

“Aw, five more minutes?” Tanner whined, looking at Frank with the same big, pleading blue eyes they share.

“Tell you what,” Frank acquiesced, “I’ll go lay Penny down but when I come back, it’s your turn, deal?”

“Deal!”

As Frank carried Penny off to bed, Tanner did his best to hurry and finish the bracelet he’s making. By the time Frank had returned, Tanner was putting on the finishing touches.

“Alright, Tanner, bedtime,” Frank called patiently.

“One second!” Tanner didn’t look up from the bracelet, brow furrowed in concentration.

Before Frank could open his mouth to protest, Tanner was holding up his finished work, handing it to Mel, beaming.

The bracelet had a multitude of colorful beads, and in the middle, three white beads spelled her name.

“Here you go! A gift for you!”

Mel can’t sleep. She’s been feeling sick all day, barely able to get Frank to do anything more than fuss over her. She glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table, squinting slightly as the dull red numbers glare at her.

Just past midnight. 

Her stomach churns, and she curls her arms around her abdomen as another wave of nausea washes over her. It’s been like this all day; in and out of the bathroom. She’s fairly certain she and the toilet have become best friends while she deals with the stomach bug she’s caught, somehow. She chalks it up to the consequences of working in the hospital—it was only a matter of time before she got sick.

Still, she really could do without puking her guts out and not being able to keep anything down. The medicine she’s taken has hardly done anything to curb the feeling and she’s been avoiding telling Frank, not in the mood to be nagged to go to the hospital. She doesn’t want their coworkers in her business.

But, she can feel the nausea getting worse and knows that she has to get up—preferrably without waking Frank up—so she takes as much care as she can muster to move his arm from around her waist, before hurrying into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl for the umpteenth time and hears the bathroom door open beside her as she moves to start cleaning herself up.

Fuck. 

“Mel, baby, are you alright?” Frank asks, voice a mixture of groggy and worried. “The medicine isn’t working?”

Mel doesn’t look at him as she goes about brushing her teeth, eyes remaining on her reflection. “Not yet. I’ll take some more, don’t worry.”

Mel doesn’t even have to look at Frank to know what he’ll say next. “I seriously think we need to get you checked out.”

“It’ll pass,” she says, dismissively, around a mouthful of toothpaste. “Just give it a little more time.”

“Mel—”

“Frank, please.” Only now does Mel turn to look at him, indignant, but pleading. “Just one more day.”

“Fine.” Frank sighs, dragging a hand through his bedhead. “But if there’s no improvement by tomorrow we’re taking you to the ER.”

Mel could shudder at the thought. She resists the urge to fight him on it, not in the mood to start something this late. So, instead, she sighs back and reluctantly agrees. “Fine.”

A brief silence passes between them, but Frank seems satisfied with her response and says, “Okay… Are you ready to come back to bed?”

“In a minute.”

Frank really didn’t know what he was doing here. He hadn’t been to a bar in a little over a year— seemed kind of pointless since he wasn’t the type to drink anymore. Yet, here he was, having let his restlessness get the better of him. Besides, going out to enjoy what was left of the fourth seemed like a better alternative than sitting in an empty apartment, parsing through his streaming services for something to watch.

He’d only been there for a matter of minutes when—

“Next up on stage: Trinity Santos and Mel King!”

The crowd roared in encouragement and applause, and Frank was fairly certain he’d nearly injured his neck with the speed in which he turned to look.

Sure enough, there Mel stood, microphone in hand, singing along to the lyrics as Alanis Morrissette’s “You Oughta Know” began playing. Frank felt transfixed, feeling something stir in his chest as he watched her; the way she tried to find her footing, how she bounced around on the stage—

The way her hair framed her face upon being taken out of her signature braid.

Frank hadn’t ever seen Mel with her hair down, and suddenly had the overwhelming urge to touch it. He could already imagine how it would feel to run his fingers through it, to pull it as he—

He shook the thought from his mind, though he could hardly be blamed for thinking it when Mel was up on stage, scream-singing about being perverted and going down on someone in a theater. Goosebumps began forming at the thought and he wondered if the tingle in his face meant he was blushing.

He really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Mel. The last thing she needs is to have to deal with his baggage. Yet, he stays rooted to the spot, even as the song comes to an end and she and Santos take a bow while the crowd erupts into applause.

He didn’t mean to seek her out, but being the cause of her nearly bumping into him could be argued as intentional. 

Mel looks at him, wide-eyed in surprise. “Dr. Langdon?”

“Oh god,” Santos says from beside her, not bothering to hide her displeasure. “What’re you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to go out after work?” Frank asks, only a touch defensive.

Santos rolls her eyes, moving to push past him. “Whatever. I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Frank spares her a glance as she moves past before turning back to Mel.

“You were great up there,” Frank says, smiling. “I didn’t know you liked karaoke.”

Mel blushes, shyly tucking some of her hair behind her ear; Frank can’t help but let his gaze linger.

“Thank you, um— It was Trinity’s idea. I felt a little out of my element.”

“I couldn’t tell. You looked like a natural,” Frank says, and he thinks he sees her blush more. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Today, 7:21 AM Frank You’re not working today?

Mel Oh, no, sorry. I had to call out. Wasn’t feeling good when I woke up. Frank What’s wrong? Do you need anything? Mel I’m fine, just a cold I think. You don’t need to worry about me. 🙂

Frank You’re my friend, I’m always going to worry. I’ll bring you something after work.

Mel You really don’t have to do that. Frank??

Today, 9:32 AM Frank Sorry, trauma got called in. Still bringing you something after work. It’s not a problem.

Mel What happened? Sorry I wasn’t there to help. How much will I owe you?

Frank Degloving accident. Trust me, you’re lucky you didn’t have to see it. And don’t worry about that. You don’t owe me anything.

Mel Oh god. Just the thought makes me feel worse. Fine, but the next time you get sick I’ll do the same for you.

Frank Don’t worry, I’ll bring your favorite food and my brilliant sense of humor. Have you feeling better in no time. Not necessary

Mel Brilliant sense of humor?

Frank Are you trying to say that I’m not funny? Ouch.

Mel No, not at all! I mean, not that you’re not funny I meant no as in I don’t think you’re not funny!

Frank I know, I was just messing with you, Mel 😉

Mel Oh Ha-ha.

Frank I’m going to take that as a genuine, not at all sarcastic laugh. Laughter is the best medicine, after all.

Mel You always make me laugh. You’re funny 🙂

Frank You might actually be the only person besides my kids who thinks so

Mel That can’t be right. I would hope that the doctor who says the best treatment for my cold is laughter is actually funny, so

Frank You’ve got a point You’re also good at boosting my ego

Mel I guess I better be careful with that- wouldn’t want you getting a big head Bigger than it already is, I mean That was a joke

Frank Damn, shots fired, Dr. King Tell me how you really feel

Mel 🙂

Today, 8:26 PM Frank Sorry, got held up. I’ll be there in 30!

“I know we’ve talked about it a little, and you said before that we don’t always get things right the first time, remember?” Frank is down on one knee, holding Mel’s hands while she looks at him owlishly. “And well- they say that when you know, you know, so… I really wanna get things right with you, Mel.”

Is he—? Is he really…?

“Will you marry me?”

Frank’s speech simultaneously tears through her at lightning speed while taking a moment for Mel to fully process. Her eyes start to well far before she even realizes that she’s crying, moving one hand out of Frank’s grasp to cover her mouth.

Mel isn’t known much for her impulsivity, but she surprises even herself how quickly she reaches out for Frank, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him to his feet to none-too-gracefully crash her lips into his.

She feels Frank’s hand come up to cup the side of her face as he kisses her back and they only pull apart once their lungs are screaming for air. They stay close enough for their noses to brush as they regain their breath, and Mel can’t stop herself from pressing another fleeting peck to Frank’s lips.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” He asks, still breathless, and Mel can hear, rather than see, the smile in his voice.

Mel can’t help it as more tears escape her eyes. Her heart feels like it could burst and a part of her wants to ask if this is real or a dream.

Elation sweeps through her and a broad smile pulls across her lips. Giggles erupt past her lips before she nods enthusiastically and sniffles.

“Yes!”

Frank’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, catching the tears and wiping them away as he closes the distance between them to kiss her again.

@kingdonmicrofic | day 4: sparks | rating: T | word count: 497/342 | cw: n/a | ao3

“Thank you for driving me home,” Mel says, standing at her door with a boba tea in hand, smiling up at Frank.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

“Well, I love boba—” Mel had still been surprised when Frank asked her if she wanted to grab a bite to eat after work, “—I just didn’t know that you did.” When he’d told her they could go anywhere she wanted, she hadn’t expected him to agree to go to the little tea shop down the street from the hospital.

“I didn’t either,” Frank admits. “But it was pretty good. Y’know, at first I thought you might’ve only agreed to get a free meal out of me.”

“Wha— no, I wouldn’t— Oh. That was another joke.”

Mel can feel her cheeks burn as Frank grins playfully down at her. She was still getting used to that; the teasing, the jokes, the more playful banter.

She certainly wasn’t complaining, however.

“Really though,” she insists, “I had a good time.”

“Me too.”

A silence falls over them then, and Mel isn’t sure if she should break it to say goodnight, go into her apartment, and flop face down into her pillow to curse herself for not knowing how to properly end their ‘date’.

She can think of things she’d like to do, but she doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want to make Frank uncomfortable after just getting out of a crumbling marriage. He already has a lot on his plate and she tells herself that the last thing he needs is for her to throw herself at him. She doesn’t know what she’d do anyway with all the inexperience she has.

“Hey, uh…” Frank finally breaks the silence, making Mel’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Would it be okay if I… kissed you?”

“What?” Mel blurts, wanting to kick herself immediately. Her heartbeat is in her ears and she can feel the heat flooding her cheeks. She has half a mind to pinch herself, just to make sure she isn’t dreaming all this up.

“Shit—” Frank curses under his breath, taking a small step back. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. We don’t—”

“No—” Mel steps towards him, bringing them back together, staring up at him earnestly. “It’s not inappropriate, I just didn’t think—”

Mel stops, takes a steadying breath, and says, “Yes, you can kiss me.”

Truthfully, Mel hadn’t kissed anyone before; she simply never found the time. School had been her main priority, to the detriment of what some would call ‘important life milestones’. So yes, she was in her late twenties and still hadn’t had her first kiss, but that didn’t matter because Frank wanted to kiss her; he was going to kiss her.

She can feel his fingertips come up to brush along her jaw and her breath hitches, her eyes flutter shut as he moves in, and the moment their lips brush, she can feel sparks.

@kingdonmicrofic | day 3: gala | rating: T | word count: 500/467 | cw: n/a | ao3

“Would you lighten up?” Frank grimaces as Cassie elbows him in the ribs. “You act like someone pissed in your cornflakes.”

“What? Because I’m not going around blowing smoke up all these guys’ asses, there's something wrong with me?”

Admittedly, Frank has had better days; less exhausting ones for sure. Between working 12 hour shifts and dealing with the intricacies of divorce, on top of a very hyperactive Goldendoodle who always wants to play or go on walks or wreck havoc— Yeah, you could say that Frank hasn’t exactly been living the dream. 

He can practically hear the eye roll in Cassie’s voice as she says, “I’m not saying you have to do that, but it wouldn’t kill you to mingle a little, Frank.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have the biggest fans around here.” This time, he looks at Cassie and she’s already staring him down with a look he can only imagine Harrison has seen many times. Frank returns it with one of his own, exaggerated looks, and Cassie rolls her eyes again, sighing.

“That’s definitely not true,” she says, matter-of-factly. “So much time has passed since you left and returned that if someone still has a problem with it they need to do a little soul searching.”

Frank crosses his arms and snorts.

“It’s true!” Cassie defends, taking a look out over the throng of guests, talking amongst themselves, some dancing to whatever song is playing over the loudspeakers. When she looks back at Frank, he isn’t sure he likes the coy smile on her lips or the mischievous glint in her eye. “I know at least one person who seems to worship the ground you walk on.”

This time it’s Frank’s turn to roll his eyes and he scoffs out a warning. “Don’t say it.”

Naturally, Cassie discards said warning and says, simply, “Mel.”

“Can we not—”

“I’m just saying! Everyone’s seen it. You should be happy that you have at least one person, besides myself, who’s in your corner.”

As irksome as it is to be teased, Frank knows she’s right, and he is happy to have Mel around; for her to have his back like she does. He just wishes people would quit acting like there’s something more to it than there actually is.

“I am happy,” Frank defends. “I’m just tired of people like you trying to make it all… weird.” 

“People like me?” Cassie scoffs, incredulous. “Trust me, you two make it weird all on your own.”

Frank opens his mouth to retort, but Cassie cuts him off before he can say anything.

“Okay, whatever, look. She’s over there, by herself.” She points to the opposite side of the room and sure enough, there’s Mel, stunning in a sparkling maroon dress. “Go ask her to dance.”

Cassie brushes off Frank’s attempted excuses, giving him an encouraging nudge.

@kingdonmicrofic | day 2: champagne | rating: G | word count: 436/158 | cw: n/a | ao3

She can’t remember how she got here, doomscrolling Frank’s Instagram feed as she takes a moment to herself in the breakroom, but it’s hard to stop. At the start, there had been many, many photo dumps—random pictures he’d taken of his surroundings; flower bushes, the sky, buildings, and random selfies coupled with a few pictures of himself with his kids—but the further she scrolled, she noticed how infrequently he used the app.

There are some large gaps in timestamps, going from a post a week ago to one month all the way to six. Somehow, she ends up going from 2026 to 2023, long before they ever met. Mel is careful with her movements, lest she accidentally ‘like’ one of the posts and subject herself to the drastic measures of fleeing the country.

Instead, her thumb hovers, along with her intent gaze, on a photo of a woman she’s never seen. She’s quite beautiful, Mel notes, taking in her dark brunette hair that’s cropped just above her shoulders, warm chestnut colored eyes, perfect smile, and olive skin with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

In the photo, she’s wearing a champagne colored dress that perfectly suits her skin tone, making her seemingly glow and Mel does her best to temper the jealousy she feels creeping into her chest. She doesn’t even have to venture a guess over who this ‘mystery woman’ is before she reads the caption.

‘Happy Anniversary to my beautiful wife, @abby.langdon_! Here’s to many more years together! Love you! <3’

The jealousy Mel feels inside her chest is in full bloom now; a reminder that no matter how much she might like Frank, he is, indeed, married, and she doesn’t stand a chance. She knows it’s silly to be jealous over her coworker’s wife, anyway. Truthfully, she knows that she should just be happy that they are friends. That should be enough.

It should. 

She lets out a slightly frustrated sigh at herself, and against her better judgment, returns to her doomscrolling. Just as she comes upon another old photo, this one being a selfie of Frank and Abby smiling broadly at the camera, the breakroom door opens.

“Mel, Trauma 2; you in?” Frank calls, making Mel nearly chuck her phone across the room. Instead, she fumbles with it, nearly dropping it in her attempt to exit out of Instagram and shove it back into her pocket.

Thankfully, if Frank notices the awkward display, he doesn’t comment on it. Mel thanks her lucky stars and rises to her feet, forcing a smile as she moves to follow him.

Mel King has never felt more out of her element. Her eyes drift across the room til they land on the sliding glass door leading into the Langdons' backyard—the area where most everyone is. 

The area where she should be. 

When Frank had invited her to celebrate Tanner’s sixth birthday she hadn’t known what to expect. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a birthday party and in retrospect, she should’ve known that the chances of an elementary school aged child having a small, quiet get together would be slim to none.

Mel likes having fun and being around people; she has a soft spot for children and babies especially. At least children say what they mean and don’t sugarcoat anything, but it had been an oversight on Mel’s part to forget that they also have a tendency to be loud. 

Thus, she finds herself sitting on a loveseat in the corner of the Langdons’ living room, decompressing. She has half a mind to pull out her phone and bring up one of her meditation apps, only thinking better of it when she considers the thought of someone seeing her and getting a bad first impression.

She can hear it now: ‘Did you see that Frank’s new girlfriend spent all of her time inside on her phone?’ 

So instead, she self-soothes by rolling her shoulders and wringing her hands together, focusing on her breathing and—

“Hey, you okay?”

Mel feels herself start slightly, head snapping up to see Frank coming back in from the backyard. He has bits of confetti in his hair and rosy cheeks, telltale signs of playful roughhousing with his kids.

“Oh, um, I’m fine,” Mel says, straightening up, eyes following Frank as he approaches to sit next to her. “Just…”

“Overwhelmed?” Frank finishes for her and she nods lightly.

“Sorry—” She shakes her head, “—I won’t be long, I just needed a breather.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Frank reaches out to lightly graze his fingers over Mel’s hands and she can feel herself relaxing a bit under his touch. “You can take as long as you need. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know this is kind of a lot. Abby’s always liked going all out for birthdays.”

Mel looks up at him, eyes catching once more on the pieces of confetti still clinging for dear life in his hair. A smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she moves one of her hands to gently tug one of the tiny pieces free.