#nightbug fic

his hard edges were abrasive at first touch at best, crumbling away with the slightest of pressure to reveal the molten river of his soul, undulating at best but consistently stagnant just beneath the faux strength. it stemmed from a good place, or so frankie had been told too many times to count, the sway of his being at the hands of those he gave his heart to. but he could never keep to the mould and shape of those hands, his composition too fluid. a thumb smudged into the perfected surface until it caved into a dimple, misshapen and reborn. the beauty of his softened surface never fared too well in new eyes, they always drooped with the slope of disappointment, sighs heavy with the retreating resolve that no hands would procure a solid structure, a holding structure. 

something he had long accepted. 

the dwindling sap within frankie had concluded that a lasting love was not something he could build his picket fences around, the holding space for it would need to be more economical, the realist within him would cram several more attainable items into that carved out corner and trudge forward. the love at home there already, tried, tested and unshaken would be enough, along with the growing kindling that was securely bordered with the strongest of him. 

those were the handprints that none on the clay surface of him could override or wipe away with wet cloth. no amount of buffing would erase them from him and frankie considered that the thorned pride of his heart. if the last of his rigidity would stand to protect those slivers of warmth and company, it was enough for him. 

five of them to be precise, those four as rough hewn and unkempt as his own calloused hands, blood soaked and begging for redemption. and then the smaller, delicate and growing trace of his daughter’s splayed fingers, undiluted devotion cupped in the heart of her palm as she branded him. there too, he gave in easily, folded over and inwards for her playful hands, his love enough for her sensory learning. 

the same palm hugged around the pinkie of his left hand, waddling down the graveled paths of the marketplace, evie’s higher pitched, soft voice almost being lost to the bustle of the space surrounding them. frankie made sure to bend down, leaning a stiff, tired body down to catch her words as he replied in earnest, eyes taking in the season’s harvest, colourful and abundant on the shaded tables bracketing them both. 

the saturday sun felt weaker, a chill in the air that kept the day crisp on his lips as he led his daughter through the vendor's stalls, looking but not searching for anything in particular. at the time of pulling evie away from her morning cartoons, chin milk stained, the farmer’s market had felt like a good enough outing for the two of them. frankie more eager just to have the little girl prattle his ear off as she explored another corner of the world within their city. he needed it as well, the welcome distraction of a noisy environment to evade the gnashing thoughts that his ex’s tired expression had brought about as she handed him his daughter’s bag on his doorstep. 

motherhood had added earthy shades to the images of her he had on reel in the back of his mind, always slipping back onto its projector when she appeared before him. cautious, suspect and tired words of bedtime routines (nothing later than 9pm) and food allergies (no citrus). it had been more vivid, colours so bright and blinding when it all began, unweathered yet by life’s droll. the fade happened faster than either of the two cared to admit, jaw tight and edging forth, but with the introduction of a rapid heartbeat in a doctor’s room, there was the trickle of gold—threaded and tightening amongst the greying colours. and where one thread snapped and frayed months later, tears streaming with milk stains on stretched out old tshirts and a screaming kettle in the background, the gold remained taut. that shimmering life line keeping him on two feet as those neons took their final breath to earthy, not entirely muted or erased but finding a depth that set roots of a different kind within him.

frankie could never find it within him to blame her, not with the choppy waters his storms had stirred her vessel upon. the brine of those very waves, erosive and nothing any shock of colour could weather. if anything there was an undying respect and admiration that he held for her, for sticking it out as long as she had, for maintaining level headed as she had, and not denying him the privilege of being part of evie’s life when she had so many grounds to do so. 

pride there too, in the stellar woman he had brought the little life into being with that now clung to his finger, swinging their arms with all the strength she had among her giggles as he kept his arm loose, languid for her amusement. but the pride was smudged, stained with pink washed water of his wrongdoings, the chips to her he had added whether the intention for it was missing or not.

it were these thoughts—all disjointed and fraying edges reaching for every open corner of his mind—that had haunted frankie and pushed him out onto his own doorstep, still zipping up his daughter’s hoodie as she fought him tooth and nail to keep on her sparkly sandals as opposed to the closed toe pair dangling from his fingertips. she won of course, but frankie had still tucked the second pair in beside her carseat. evie had sang the entire drive, unabashed and cheery and it was enough to shake off the weighted dust of old thoughts from frankie’s shoulders. love, moulding and bleached colours be damned. at least that had been the ideal he was desperately trying to maintain. 

frankie sighed, dropped his eyes to the glittery purple straps of his daughter’s sandals instead, the corner of his mouth edging up as her toes wiggled in her shoes as she stopped to ogle at an oversized pumpkin on display, pies and unlit candles scattered in autumnal invitation. a tug, then a more excitable shake to his arm as her head swivelled with gold twinged curls bouncing, to blink her big eyes at him, “daddy, are we going to carve into pumpkins again? can we get ones as big as this?” 

the man scrunched his nose, hand lifting to scratch at his eyebrow at memories of the pulpy mess and jagged looking pumpkins from the year prior, the smell of the innards clinging to evie’s hair as he tried his best to shampoo it out in the bath that night. frankie’s lips smacked as his head dipped and tilted sideways as he looked down at evie clinging to the edge of the table, poking softly at the produce. 

“i don’t know, baby. we aren’t all that skilled at it, are we?” 

small shoulders shrugged as she looked back at him again, no less deterred, “but it’s fun. i wanna make one with hair on its face like yours.” 

a huff fell from his lips, fighting a smile and stepping closer as his eyes fell on the pumpkin that had all but enraptured his kid’s attention. it had to be at least three times the size of her little head, and maybe that was part of the allure to her. no help that the table sat at the heart of diverging paths, perfect place for people to linger, to mull over a direction and then be caught by the seasonal call. 

“that’s precisely the kind of skill we’re lacking,” his voice lilted in teasing, hands engulfing her shoulders as he scanned the rest of the stall, offering a polite smile to the man, possibly 20 years his senior, operating it. 

evie wriggled beneath his hands, the stubborn streak he knew all too well clasping around the image she had conjured in her head of her father’s face in ridged orange, a brown stem for hair and nothing more. he could see it in the eyes that she narrowed at him, the lips that pillowed, pursed as she gathered her argument behind them. 

“we can learn. that’s what ms delaney says when we don’t know how to do something.” 

well, fuck him then. not that frankie had any notion to deny her the tradition, but now any argument, jokingly or not, against the wise words of her teacher, and evie would be sure to convey it back to ms delaney come monday morning. so he parted his lips, with absolute caution to appease evie when he caught something within his periphery. sun doused and crinkled into a smile, eyes curious but noninvasive as they took in him and his daughter in their ritualistic stance for challenge. frankie turned his head to look and then all but doubled back at the endearing expression on a face that hitched his breath between his tonsils. 

down at a stall just veering off of their current path, a stranger stood, being offered sample cheeses of all varieties, head now turning back to the enthusiastic vendor who offered you another toothpick ladled offering. you smiled again, but this time frankie couldn’t catch the light of the sun in it as he had just seconds prior, but somehow he felt the minor changes, less warm and more polite, acquiescent as you nodded along to the sales pitch presented to you. 

the equilibrium of frankie’s body tripped up, something like vertigo overcoming his head as his eyebrows drew tight across his forehead. the breath that left him was shaky and god, it bothered him. the dust of his thoughts had been slow to settle but the smile you had spared him and his daughter had broken through a window and turned it all amber. a complete stranger, tables away and yet something in frankie snagged and pulled. that sorry sap in him taking the first breath, awoken. 

a tug at his jeans broke him free, small fists balling the denim as his daughter called for his attention back to her with a pout having formed on her lips with his eyes steered away from her. evie, none the wiser to the slow blinking daze of her father, spoke once again, “we can watch videos on your phone and learn, like how you do with my hair.” 

frankie flushed for a multitude of reasons, the final trigger being set off by the man’s soft chuckle behind the table the two of them were still stationed at. it drew a slow exhale from his lungs, his centre finding its axis again as his brows furrowed. 

“no need to argue with me, tiny. i never said no, only pointed out how bad last year’s turned out.” 

evie’s pout deepened, “even mine?” 

shit. foot in mouth found him once again and he quickly shook his head, lowering himself to his haunches as he reached for her hands. his thumbs felt gargantuan against the back of her hands, rubbing soothing circles there, each pass a plea for forgiveness. 

“‘course not. yours was perfect. the perfect…” 

the huff he drew from her lips with the elliptical lilt of his voice was enough to deepen the heat in frankie’s face, now even more intensely aware of those bright eyes that had found their way back to him and his daughter. “you don’t even remember what it was.” 

but he did—could so clearly picture it in his head, the image digitised somewhere in his phone’s album from the abundant photos he had taken. the only problem was that he could not for the life of him make out precisely what evie’s artistic internalised eye had produced onto the pumpkin. a hole he was digging even deeper for himself. 

so frankie pleaded, hands playfully shaking up her arms as he did his best to coax a smile from her with his own, “c’mon baby, throw me a hint, hm? do you even remember mine?” 

evie’s nose scrunched, balling her cheeks in the way that frankie could never resist swiping his thumb over, and then she shook her head. “just remember it was scary.” 

something between a relieved exhale and a tired laugh left his lips, eyes narrowing at her as his fingers flitted beneath her arms until she squealed, squirming and laughing as she shook, doing her uttermost best to escape him. 

“scary? that’s the whole point of halloween, you heartless monster! you wanna say that again?” 

evie’s laughter rang loud as she squeezed her eyes shut, her body finally slumped against his chest, batting waywardly at his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. the smile on frankie’s face broadened, hand now clutching her against him as she tilted her head back to look up at him. eyes shiny and tinged with a spark of magic that he hoped he wouldn’t witness fade for a long time yet. 

“we can make a better one with this pumpkin. i like it a lot.” 

frankie sighed, head dipping, bearded chin grazing her nose as he closed his eyes. consequences finding him as he looked back at his five year old through his lashes, grumbling just slightly in reluctant defeat, “let me think about it. we’ll come back after some hot chocolate, okay?” 

after some careful deliberation, evie finally nodded, stepping out of his arms to go back to admiring her prize. frankie took that opportunity to raise back to his full height, chancing a cursory glance back in your direction, once again just missing your eyes. this time, frankie could just about fool himself into believing it was more intentional, you trying to avoid being caught. something he would not afford himself. 

instead, he stole the quick seconds he had given himself to drink you in, hair done with a sort of careless effort that spoke more of natural charm, clothes fitting in areas that had his eyes lingering before sweeping off into a flow that billowed just slightly in the brisk pockets of wind that would catch and chase down the paths of the stalls. 

frankie swallowed, a knot in his throat before he turned back to evie who had just about made him promise to spend just too much on a singular pumpkin. the little girl had accepted the raw, peeled carrot from the man behind the table they had lingered at for a touch too long, nibbling on the tapered end with a furrow between her brows. a crunch of her succeeding and the images of you dissipated to the backrooms of frankie’s mind. 

his daughter scrunched her nose for the second time as she chewed slowly, assessing before she took another bite and he chuckled, a heavy hand returning to her shoulder, “you say thank you, mija?” 

evie nodded but then mumbled another ‘thank you’ around her mouthful, of which frankie echoed with a smile at the man before he steered them both further down the marketplace, fighting the newly sprouted want to look back over his shoulder, wondering if your eyes would flick back to them again as well. he reasoned with himself that there was nothing wrong with being attracted to pretty things. gorgeous, charming things that swept across his brain with a whimsy that he had long since felt tickle between his ribs. if anything you had looked at them first, smiling at the exchange with his daughter and ever the protective dad, that gave him the right to look right back at you. assess the danger, make sure beauty wasn’t dulling his senses, so he did just that. 

frankie looked over his shoulder, eyes tracking through the litter of people loitering at different tables, searching for that rope that had snagged at something inside of him much too quickly. it took him just a second too long, catching on the same fabric that danced on the breeze and a retreating back, head dipped as your figure grew more distant and he had no choice but to face forward again. 

he couldn’t help it—chuckling at himself as he shook his head—that tender boned sap in him hard to quell and dull despite knowing deep within himself that the cotton fluff of those sort of feelings did not wear well on his wound-riddled flesh. 

even so, with his hand clasping evie’s again and leading her to a stall serving a number of beverages, frankie smiled to himself with the new memory of the featherlight flutters evoked from fleeting glances. the charm of a smile bathed golden, mystical enough for him to feel spellbound as he dug his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. 

small talk was something of autopilot as the vendor frothed the milk for evie’s hot chocolate, and yet his mind took another stolen moment to play those visions out again, catching on details he did not want to forget any time soon. the memory of it caught into the cup of his palms felt like it slowed the world around him as he held down the playback button, body seemingly wading through the muddiness of reality to find that gold dusted dream. as frankie sipped on his cappuccino, the foam catching in his mustache and drawing a titter from his daughter, he let the dream-filled images dissipate once more. instead he opted for sticking his tongue out playfully at the little girl that looked up at him with a gleeful sort of secrecy. 

“what’s so funny, tiny? huh?” playful glaring eyes stared her down, erupting more of those happy sounds from her. 

“you look old.” she stated it so casually that it drew a scoff from frankie, raising a singular brow at her. “your dad is still hip, and i will keep reminding you that even when you threaten to slam bedroom doors and roll your eyes at me.” 

oblivious to the foreboding of his words, evie sipped at her paper cup, licking at her lips with each sip. frankie watched for a while, basking in the quiet type of happiness. he brought the back of his hand up to wipe at his mustache as he softly poked at his daughter’s shoulder, smiling when she flicked her big browns back up at him. 

“wanna grab a seat for a bit until you finish your drink?” and with a small nod, frankie led them between two stalls to the grassy area scattered a ways off. arranged beneath a good number of sky-blotting trees were tables for families to sit at and enjoy the home hearty meals being served, made with the very produce being sold. 

finding a table on the fringe of the grass, frankie pulled the second chair closer to his before evie plopped down, little legs swinging as her full concentration remained on her beverage, barely lifting her head. 

with her in a sugar-dusted dream, frankie allowed himself the time to fully take in their surroundings. the corrugated green plastic roofing over each table for just in case the weather turned on its head, the dew that sparkled precariously on the blades of grass amidst his worn boots, some of the moisture having brushed onto the brown leather. it wasn’t unbearably busy, a constant flow of faces down the guided paths, chatter that all funneled into a singular song between jewel toned eggplants, vibrant poppies and earth ripped root vegetables. 

one thing he was glad for was the thin zip up hoodie he had wrestled evie into, the breeze prickling at his arms, not quite sharp enough to raise goosebumps in its path but maintaining the threat. 

it was a pleasant enough day, made more so by the mouth grinning up at him, darkened cocoa tucked into the corners as evie extended the empty cup to him. his own grin kicked up the apple of his cheeks as his thumb came to his mouth, exaggeratedly licking at the pad of his finger before he moved to wipe away the smudges on her face. evie squealed, shoving at his hand in abhorrent disgust. frankie chuckled as he cooed at her, “but i’m trying to help!” 

“not with your spit! daddy, stop it!” little brows furrowed in sheer irritation as she smacked at his hand one final time, blowing out a breath that had his body shaking from amusement. 

“alright. just so you know, you’re not rocking a very cute look with all that chocolate smeared over your face.” 

sharp eyes with an attitude challenged frankie into raising a singular brow as his daughter’s haughty chin angled upwards, “i’m always cute.” 

maybe frankie was raising a little brat, but she was an honest one. 

he swung up, hands pressing into his thighs to boost him from his seat, gathering their cups before holding out a hand to evie, “come on then, princess, your pumpkin awaits.” 

evie all but dragged him back to that very table where he forked out a number of bills that only just had him flinching before he scooped up the overgrown produce. frankie tucked it into the crook of his arm and held out his free hand for evie to clutch onto as they ambled deeper into the maze strategically laid out to lead back out to the parking area. 

it was needed, frankie decided, the lighthearted conversations he had with his little girl, talks of school and her friends and all the toys her mother hadn’t allowed her to pack in that she so badly wanted to bring over to her dad’s. it fulfilled something within the man, a slow pour that leveled out every crevice and crack within him, to have these moments with her, time he mourned over, borrowing grief in the very pit of his darkest hours, so sure he had eviscerated the relationship with his little girl before it even begun. 

so he breathed deeper, crisp air into his lungs and vapour from his lips, stopping at tables here and there. on a whim, frankie collected a number of ingredients for a recipe he felt would fit the end of their day, a pleased smile wearing at his cheeks as evie skipped around his legs. 

it was barely a pause, just a slight jerk of his body when he found himself at the table bearing stacks of wheeled cheeses, plates of cubed samples and the toothpicks with their mini flags of origins. frankie’s eyes roamed over the contents, some childlike part of him wondering which of the samples his dream damning stranger had tried. if you had liked any of them in particular but he quickly shook his head, lips pursed as he sucked air through his teeth and pulled back. evie, clearly the apple of any’s eye, was offered a larger sample for which she grinned at the woman handing it to her, a sweet ‘thank you!’ before she chewed down. 

“good?” he asked, amusement wrinkling his eyes. 

passionate nods answered him and it was reason enough for him, this time the tap of his card and then the small bag handed over the table. frankie convinced himself heavily it was all for his daughter’s benefit and not at all a part of him taking a tangible, albeit pathetic excuse, of a reminder of you home with him. 

the sun had finally found its nook, warmer on the crown of their heads when frankie called it a day, ushering his daughter back onto the winding path to the exit. with arms cradling all the day’s spoils, he had no hand free to hold onto his daughter’s. frankie’s shoulders grew slightly more tense as he led evie back to the parking area, reminding her near constantly to grab onto his jeans, to not run ahead, to say close. it was the throng of people that made him anxious, the encroaching area of vehicles they’d have to weave through, just how small his daughter was and the lack of her warm hand in his that made him more vigilant. 

only after they had broken away from the last two bracketing tables, did frankie loosen a measured breath, eyes so focused on evie’s little head and the people around them that there was a slight pinch between his shoulder blades. evie clearly felt none of those burdens as she skipped, two feet jumping, playing hopscotch on the last of the paved walkway. 

“mija, didn’t i ask you to hold onto me?” frankie sighed, taking a larger step to match her stride again, eyes oscillating between where his daughter was and the car park drawing closer. 

no answer found him, not verbally or in the request that left him at least four times in the last few feet they had walked down. no, instead his daughter inclined for the opposite, skipping ahead of him, singing something beneath her breath. evie was lost to a world of her own, now just out of reach from frankie and spiking at his anxiety. 

numerous scenarios played out in his head, all that had his breathing picking up, body bunching muscles as he juggled all the bags he was balancing and the large fucking pumpkin still tucked into his side, cramping up his forearm. frankie picked up his pace as more people weaved in from his periphery and he was still not beside his daughter. he felt the calm of the day find its plunge, cursing viciously within himself as he kept his focus square on the curly head of hair bouncing ahead of him, tightening that skeletal hand’s grip on his heart. 

“evie! c’mon baby, not so fast, and watch where you’re-” too late, his warning more of a prophecy as his daughter careened into the back of someone’s legs, stumbling back and landing square on her butt. frankie cussed beneath his breath, picking up his pace as he heaved the pumpkin higher to fight the growing urge to chuck the thing, watching as the stranger turned around, words of apology falling from his lips before he reached the pair.

“i’m so sorry, i’ve been telling her to stay close and she-” 

but there again, his sentence caught no conclusion. words drying on his tongue as you, the stowed away daydream he had been batting around in his skull, turned around. you helped evie back to her feet, gentle hands dusting off her knees as your eyes scanned for injuries and then lifted in search of him. 

god, frankie felt entirely entombed, captured by your eyes finally meeting his, with intention—no shy dips to your head or fleeting, barely there glances. you were looking at him, looking for him and the reason should have had him knocking some fucking sense into his head but the man felt stumped. his feet had faltered when your bright eyes locked onto him and the whirring of his mind turned to an incessant buzz until his eyes flicked down to his daughter who now stood, wringing her hands in shame. 

that surely set him back on course, the earlier anxiety, clutching fear finding a crescendo as he stepped close enough to look down at her. a sigh, deep and long, left his lips as he tried to crouch down to her level, gritting his teeth even harder at the things crowding his arms and stopping him from pulling her into his circle of protection. 

“you okay, tiny? hurt anywhere?” 

a quick shake of her head, eyes not willing to meet his as she shuffled closer, somehow able to sense frankie’s need to have her near now that she understood what it meant not to be. it was enough for him to lift his own eyes, looking at you and shuffling the bags in his hold awkwardly, before they flitted down back to evie, “you apologise, baby?”

“‘m’sorry.” a voice so small, mumbled as she finally lifted her head. those brown eyes were more shiny, big with the fright she had as she looked up at the gentle stranger who had dusted her knees and spoke soft, reassuring words that frankie was not privy to. 

“it’s okay, sweet thing. as long as you’re not hurt, all is forgiven, okay?” the smile on your face, the song of your voice, the slight caution to your stance could have flattened the man before you. a hard knock to his lungs as he blinked at you, more off kilter than he would ever care to admit. 

evie nodded, stepping back until she was flush with her father’s legs, finally seeing the necessity of curling those fists into the denim. and then she buried her head there too, mumbling apologies up to frankie as well, that skeletal hand crumbling with the force of the swelling of his heart. he murmured assurances back, wishing even more for the free hand to brush at her hair, allow the weight of his steadiness—however fronted within the current moment—to settle her. 

only then did the man finally clear his throat, head turned sideways to gather himself before he looked back at you again, words as clumsy and awkward as his innards felt, “i’m sorry about that, i didn’t plan on getting so much sh-things and i’ve been telling her to hold onto me but i guess we’ll have to clean out her ears when we get home.” 

christ, he was rambling. words catching onto the tailend of the last and fumbling out of his mouth, he could only just stop himself from flinching at the unkempt state of himself.  frankie could not decide between this little encounter being the absolute death of him or the genius workings of his daughter and her select hearing, either way it was doing a number on his confidence. 

but you, you smiled, shaking your head with the same tenderness that had helped his daughter up, and then finally, frankie could pinpoint it. amidst the soft brushed edges of you, there was a shyness, something that kept your frame more closed off, a step back as you took your time to find your own words. 

“no, honestly, it’s nothing to fret over. i’m just glad she didn’t get hurt.” and then, as if it took you some time to finally gather the means to, you offered your name, your tone just a touch more airy as you did so. 

frankie pinched his lips together to stop himself from murmuring it back, just as airy, maybe more awed and instead he shook himself out of his reverie. he shuffled just a step closer, off the trodden dust to make way for those trying to find their way to the car park, “i’m francisco, this is my daughter evie. i-i’d give you my hand but…”

your lips tilted up at that, laughing softly as you looked away for a second before meeting his eyes again with mirth dancing in yours, “an ongoing issue for you currently.” 

his head dipped, chuckling as his hand twitched to tug at the bill of his cap before he looked up at you, smiling, a growing grin as he nodded. 

“not a very put-together first impression i’m giving off, huh?” 

your head tilted sideways, a micro-expression that pinched at your nose so fast that frankie blinked and believed he must have imagined it because you shook your head, keeping it at that angle as you looked at him with unwavering amusement. 

“i wouldn’t worry too much, heard through the grapevine that chaos is in.” 

the corner of his mouth twitched with the breadth of his grin, “yeah i don’t know, might have to check your sources.” 

frankie tried to keep his eyes at an appropriate level on your face as you rolled your lips between your teeth, blinking at him with a bashful expression that did nothing to help the dishevelled state of himself, “you’re speaking to the sources.” 

the laugh that left him was enough to jolt evie’s head up to look at him, and he felt caught, like he was doing something in front of his daughter he shouldn’t. he felt the flush crawl up his neck as he cleared his throat, ears hot as he let out a rush of air and met your gaze. the lapse of silence seemed to dance between the two of you, something grazing, evanescent as he shifted his weight between his feet. 

“anyways, i don’t wanna hold you up anymore that our bout of chaos has already. again, i’m sorry about that.” 

you shook his words off with more conviction this time, something more wilful as you straightened, “stop apologising, francisco, really. everything’s fine. do you-do you need help with that maybe?” you gestured to the current bane of his existence, eyes softer with the offer than the prefix of it. 

frankie mimicked your earlier answer, shaking his head as he tried to forget the roll of your tongue and the lilt of your voice that curled around his name. he was floundering, hopeless and down right pitiful, with the lick of attention from someone attractive, and kind, and witty. jesus christ. 

“again, i don’t want my chaos to border on pain-in-the-ass territory, but i really appreciate the offer.” oh and he hoped you heard the sheer sincerity in his voice, not at all meaning to brush you off. but frankie knew all too well that any longer in your presence and he would surely make an unrecoverable fool of himself. 

thankfully, you acquiesced, the dip of your chin acknowledging as you smiled at him again, “well it was really nice meeting you, francisco. and you too, evie.” 

evie blinked up at you, little head now pulled away from his jeans as she smiled at you, just as shy as she had been when you held her hands, crouched before her, “you’re really pretty.” 

the flush in your cheeks and the slight widening of your eyes could have had the man nudging his daughter to say, what he wouldn’t dare to say, again. he could see it so clearly now, the slight rounding of your shoulders as you curled into yourself, the way your body angled away from the both of them as you forced off a laugh to brush away the compliment. 

“not as pretty as you, though,” you offered warmly, winking at his daughter who now giggled into the leg of his jeans, giddy from your words. 

“it was nice to meet you too, i hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, less chaotic incidents hopefully.” 

the shift was subtle, the innate movement of a limb if anything, the way your skirting edges caught the tide to push against him one final time, eyes holding his with intent and your smile more playful, something to chip away at his deprecation as you shifted your foot a step back, “hmm i don’t know, don’t have any complaints on this one.” 

you retreated then, still facing them but smiling at the unguarded surprise on his face as you slowly inched away and to the car park. 

“i’ll see you around, francisco.”

only then, after the third iteration of his name in that voice that teasingly brushed down the pearls of his spine, did frankie realise. the omission, the secondary statement, always tagged to his introduction, the frankie mostly. sometimes, it was the sole introduction offered if anything and yet, that niggling, unswayed part of him that he had done his best to shrivel and shrink away from reality had offered you his full name, no abbreviated moniker. more him and less the pliable putty with stretched and fading thumbprints in the dents and dimples of him. 

“yeah, you too,” he said, albeit too softly as you finally turned on your heels and left the two of them behind. 

as he called down to evie, soft words nudging her forward, to be more careful and not let go, frankie couldn’t shake the incantation of your voice in his head. note driven francisco’s that looped in his head as he did his best to safely navigate back to his truck, his arms' weight now dumped into the bed of his truck so he could get evie seated and strapped in. 

with the key turning in his ignition, frankie blinked slowly, unseeing out of his windshield, so undecided on whether it was better or worse to have a more lasting memory of you. beneath his breath, he whispered your name, shaking his head frustratedly at himself. 

worse, so much worse, he concluded as he finally shifted into gear, and inched his way from the parking area. that he knew your name, the sound of your voice saying his and the oceanic allure of your being playing out before him. the last thing he needed was his brain snagging there, on the illusive stranger that had awakened a kiddish type of wonder within him, now with a name, a smile and lilting that had creaked open the door with invitation. 

i’ll see you around, francisco. 

if he had to be honest, frankie was starting to get sick of himself. the grip his head had on the remnants of you were worn threadbare with the constant loop, tossing and turning when the overworked memory fuzzed details and sent those castles falling flat on his sheets. but two particular sounds sang clear amid the ringing, weaving together and hefting a sigh from his lips. 

your name, uttered so whisper soft and then the later lilt as you smiled at him, taking steps backwards, something akin to a dream growing distant and fuzzing out. that was the root of his frustration if he had to be achingly honest with himself. the implication, dare he even come to believe, a promise from you to him. one of which he saw no means of finding fruition. 

i’ll see you around, francisco. 

and a bittered part of himself—the lemon plucked and cut down its middle, left to draw oxygen and frumple into its once thick skin—wished that he didn’t have to see you again. that you’d haunt him just as you were now until those memories dulled and the sound of your voice was muffled and unrecognisable. it was a sickening type of wishful thinking, the kind that he couldn’t commit all of himself to, the tug of war enough for frankie to become irate at the turn of a blunt corner.

he tried to be as inconspicuous as he could be while battling with the schoolboy state you had left him in. he tried to mask the spacing out without raising any eyebrows, but frankie was so certain that the daze in his eyes had not left him since he pulled out of the parking lot of the farmer’s market. he saw it in the mirror when he was brushing his teeth, hair mussed with sleep and strands reaching for the stray traces of sunlight seeping into his home. the white little stars, the kind he saw when his vision swam and reality slipped from under his feet, concussed.  

it was more pleasant than those fraying hours of consciousness however, but frankie could not afford it. not for a stranger, not for himself. so he batted off will’s probing stares, never words but looks that reverberated between his ears loud enough to be the full force of the captain’s voice. he shook his head and swerved, threaded between those looks with mindless conversation, neither here nor there as he nursed his diet soft drink, sweltering can dripping on his fingers on those days that he met up with the millers. frankie hated the taste of it, the sweetness that clung to the inside of his cheeks worse than the actual thing and he griped as much, another segue. 

part of him was keenly aware that will only allowed it because there were no nervous ticks, no restless hands fidgeting, leg bouncing and eyes oscillating to find an opening to bolt through. frankie wanted to be hurt by it, but it was a solemn flavored acceptance, the acquiescence that made him dry swallow the lump in his throat. 

so he trudged through his days, blinked you away heavily and shook his head as he dipped it down to his shoes when his mind played tricks on him. flashes of the back of your head, frankie had caught over his shoulder, found across the street as he slipped out of his truck, or the shock of wide, tender dipped eyes that would accidentally find him when he dropped evie off at daycare, you searching for him as you gathered his daughter from her tumble. all disappointments, all visions slipping through the cracks of his thinning veil. 

the man was distraught. he could admit that much to himself, however well he tried to bury it, to live among the room you had come to take in his mind. frankie shuffled around you, body angled sideways to slip past you and find the tracks of his footprints before you. he could taste it, smell the petrichor scent of it and it all fell lackluster. god, he hated it, that confession. that he had been getting by before you, but steps were half trodden and dragging, the glittered effects only catching the light where his daughter was concerned. evie was the vividness of frankie’s brain, something so faceted and polished, breaking light and spilling rainbow within his skull. in comparison, everything else remained somewhat greyed. watered down. 

and now, in that room you had taken for yourself, roller brush in hand, you painted wall by wall. strokes so bold, angled in every direction without reason but he felt that off white’s departure with each stripe of it. it was cathartic, it was senseless and there was nothing frankie could do but to distract himself.

distract himself as he leaned up against the wall towards the far right where the youngest miller was at work on a heavy bag, somehow finding the breath to keep up a conversation with frankie. the industrial styled gym was airy, edging on too spacious with lined floor to ceiling windows intersecting the back wall. a second home for benny, where all the energy he could not find a place to store or diffuse otherwise went. it was benny’s lunch break, something more of a haphazard decision to meet at the gym. for frankie to watch in the free hours he had found himself having and for benny to burn away at the bag swinging before him instead of chewing off the heads of his clients. 

the topic of food was something mindless, possible ideas for a quick bite and then benny had taken a deeper breath. frankie had fooled himself into believing it was a consequence of his workout, the frustration that almost always pooled above benny’s brows in restlessness. but then his friend had taken a short pause in his routine, a raised fist hovering before his eyes flicked to frankie. 

his lips pursed and then, it all came unfurling, an onslaught in rapid fire. something about a barbeque, a small thing put together, a much needed break. benny had emphasised a number of times how it was meant to be chilled, nothing crazy. and how frankie should come, show face, socialise. maybe we could get pope on call for a bit after too, the fucker has been too quiet anyways. 

so he gave in to benny’s nagging, words that wrapped around the spaces between his gloves hitting the bag before him, vowels dragging to exaggerate his plea. sweat soaked, and chest heaving, benny grabbed the bag to steady it on its mount and then he turned, the padding of his gloves finding his hips to look at frankie. 

there was something edging the crystal blue of ben’s eyes. the thin veiling of something slipping, ice sheets tilting dangerously on the slope of a mountain, the threat of momentum and impact at the foot of it in a crushing heap. frankie didn’t want to watch it melt and muddy, so he threw his head back and let his lips part in a sigh that had his eyes closing. 

“when is this little shindig of yours?” there was no immediate answer but then there was the heavy weighted pat on his shoulder and a beaming blond before him, in need of a trim as much as frankie himself.

“there he is! i knew you’d come around. thursday afternoon at will’s. it’s nothing crazy, just a few of our fighters in the circuit taking a breather.” that phrase again, enough to make him huff. frankie nodded slowly, gathering himself from his lean against the wall, arms dropping to his sides. 

“do i need to bring anything?” 

benny bit at the strap of velcro and pulled, eyes looking up at his friend before he finally pulled his hand free from the glove and worked at the second. it distracted him enough to not immediately answer frankie so the man huffed in impatience. the roll of ben’s eyes did little to remedy the irk itching at his ribs, “only yourself, fish. think you can manage that?” 

the noncommittal hum seemed enough to get ben to look up at frankie with the same exasperation that fogged up his lungs. and it quivered at the corner of his mouth in satisfaction, shoulders slumping as weight pebbled off. maybe the younger miller was right, maybe the commotion of others would do him some good. he’d been keeping a tight loop; work, evie, home and then the very occasional drop in with the millers. frankie spoke to no more than three people at once, his head down and concentrated in the aisles of his frequented grocer. it wasn’t entirely concerning but the silence was beginning to buff out his ears. 

and that continuous stretch of silence was the problem for him. it made him scrabble, made his hands itch to fill it with something and he couldn’t risk that. even if the chiming of your voice never blanketed his head to dead silence, there were steep prices that no money in any mountain’s cleft could pay for. he knew that, and benny knew that if the persistence was any indication. 

frankie caught sight of the long hand on his wrist and straightened further. benny had ambled away and was now sitting on the ledge of the ring, ropes pressed into his back as he took long drags from his water bottle, eyes flitting back to his friend with the stance he took on and he nodded. 

his bottle hung from his hand between his legs as he smiled at frankie, “time to pick up evita?”  

frankie nodded once as he squinted at his watch again, the restlessness that always crawled between the beads of his spine when it came to his daughter, the clawing fingers that dug and rasped for him to do better, be better, be on time, be present. 

“yeah, just about. i’ll see you on thursday then.” benny nodded, pointing at him with narrowed eyes to let him know that he was holding the man to it. suddenly the haphazardly planned meetup didn’t appear all that haphazard, but frankie couldn’t find it in himself to voice his conclusion. 

“tell my princess that i miss her, we don’t see her enough,” ben added with a grin.

frankie chuckled, finally pivoting on his feet to find his way out of the gym and raising a hand in greeting, voice raising just enough to call over his retreating form, “she doesn’t need to be any more spoiled than she already is, exactly why i keep her from you!” 

“no, it’s because you know she likes me more, francisco!” 

partly true. benny had a particular soft spot for his daughter, being almost the only person to refer to her by her full name, constantly having just something he saw and reminded him of her being handed over to frankie. it was endearing, watching the younger miller crouch down, something smaller, softer of himself to interact with evie. of course, his daughter had him eating out of the palm of her hands, nothing shy of the title of princess he had bestowed upon her. something evie was painstakingly aware of, making benny the first she’d run to when the group gathered at frankie’s. 

frankie only rolled his eyes, middle finger directed behind him and eliciting a laugh before he pushed through the glass door, mumbling a greeting to the receptionist before stepping into the looming afternoon. the sun had him squinting, tugging the bill of his cap lower as he picked up his pace toward his truck. when he settled into his seat, key turning in the ignition, a sense of distant deja vu misted over frankie. something parallel but not entirely aligned. maybe it was another shift within him, the pliant disposition of him once again folding. 

he’d get out, find something more lively to bombard his headspace, din out the sappy thoughts that had overcome him and finally, force you out. a houseparty, childish hopes of booming music and public disturbance to evict you from his mind. it could work, it could drown you out. 

even with the desperation to drown you out, there was a reluctance, pausing hands reaching to turn up the volume. a second backwards glance. 

damned was the man that brought the music to a maddening volume but still had a small hope that you at least liked the song. 

frankie was early. not from eagerness, not entirely, more so because the need for a distraction was now clawing at his shoulders. he’d taken a quick shower after work, hair still slightly dripping when he pocketed his house keys and had his truck moving down will’s street, parking behind benny. 

the only saving grace being that he wouldn’t be questioned, they’d been around each other long enough that frankie showing up hours early would just have him spun in on the preparations rather than unwelcome. so after he checked his phone for any updates from evie’s mother, her being the one to pick up their daughter today, he slipped from his truck and brought his knuckles to the front door twice before pushing in. frankie could hear benny’s voice first and then the answering drawl of will’s from the kitchen so he made his way deeper into the house, rounding the corner from the hallway to see benny slouched against the island with a beer in his hand already. 

the prior smiled broadly, raising his can to the man and beckoning him further into the kitchen, “would you look at that? we didn’t have to drag you here kicking and screaming.”

frankie sighed, plopping himself down in the stool next to benny, keys and phone placed before him as he greeted will who had just slid him a can of soda across the counter, “showing up early means i can leave earlier.” 

ben scoffed, sipping from his own drink and sparing frankie an unimpressed look over the rim of the can. will closed the fridge after having seemingly rearranged its contents and met the two in their semi-circle, arms crossed over his chest. 

“i can’t blame you. i’m tempted to do the same and it’s my house.”

frankie chuckled, the pop and fizz of his opened drink settling him further into his seat as he let his gaze flit from one brother to the next, benny easily taking up the defence for the barbeque that he had spun together. he couldn’t hold it against him, benny always put in the effort to keep contact, to keep in the loop. it meant a lot to him, the bigger heart among them, and as much as they gave him shit for it, the remaining three of them did their best to keep it that big, that tender. 

in the lapse of his silence, the two brothers had segued into talk of what was needed for the barbeque, a quick list being ping ponged between them verbally before will nodded and turned to frankie, “we’ll take my truck then?” 

it being the most spacious of the three vehicles, frankie nodded and slid out from his seat, following behind benny. the walk to the driveway was filled with mindless conversation, talks of work half grunted out and slight chuckles aired as they clambered into will’s truck, radio low as they pulled away. 

“did you see the photo pope sent through this morning?” benny asked, head turned to look back at frankie quickly before he turned back to his phone in his hand. 

frankie shook his head, before answering verbally, brows knitted slightly, “no, completely spaced on my phone today.” a half truth, he’d never been too good at keeping up with the messages on the group chat, however sporadic it may be, but he’d been much worse as of late. 

before he could fish out his phone from his front pocket, benny was handing him his own, already opened on the image in question, “of course he had to make sure it was a shot of them on the beach,” he chuckled. 

and sure enough, posed with their arms around each other, santiago’s other hand supporting the leg of his fianceé kicked out in front of him, were the newly engaged couple. sun beating down on their backs, skin golden and glowing because of it as they smiled brightly at the camera capturing them. frankie huffed in amusement, smiling at himself as he handed the phone back to ben. 

“aren’t they just the cutest.” will laughed, shoulders shaking as he looked up into his rearview mirror to spy frankie, a similar glint in his blue eyes. 

benny looked down at the photo one more time, shaking his head as he locked the device and smiled at the two. “It actually pisses me off, y’know, that he’s proving us wrong with that rock on her finger.” 

frankie could taste the lie. if anything, it was relieving to see santiago finally find the life he always craved and had never allowed himself to deserve. they’d watched from a distance as the man punished himself, pieces falling between his fingers and others picking it off of his tender flesh, only to scramble back together and rinse and repeat. none of them truly spoke of those months following their flight back, the blackened edges, singed and still somehow alight as they crawled through it, scars much deeper and recovery always just brushing their fingertips. they’d banded together as best they could, sometimes on the phone at ungodly hours to accommodate pope, bleary eyed and tear stricken but never saying it aloud, speaking around the saline trails. 

when santiago had met giana, he’d been completely unearthed, spoke of her with the conviction of a man that wanted so achingly but would not allow himself to savor. it was years of push and pull, them glued together one winter and then magnets repelling the following summer and then giana had put her foot down. she’d packed up all her belongings in his condo, stood at the door and gave pope a choice. they’d been on the phone with him then for 5 hours before he hung up to get her back. 

with steady months of working at their foundation, a video call scheduled for the group to finally somewhat meet her, the two finally settled down. it had been just under a month ago when frankie’s phone had chimed mid-teaparty with evie, his cup halfway to his lips when he glanced down and saw the message sent to the group chat. before he could unlock his phone, a second message, this time an attachment. frankie had let out a laugh then, surprised, pleased. 

alright boys, get your passports and visas ready. 

a feminine hand clutched in pope’s, manicured and sporting an engagement ring that announced itself before it announced the oncoming wedding. far from understated, very much the likes of the man who bought it. 

exchanged congratulations and a brief call, evie chiming in despite having no clue what she was celebrating, followed. the chat was active for another hour after that with a good amount of jeering and pokes with the newly engaged man taking the brunt of it. but the shared joy was apparent and something of a sigh exhaled from each of them collectively. relief, the seedling of hope, the understanding that moving forward, living on could be done. 

“it’s pope,” frankie chimed, grin still present, “for all we know this wedding could be his elaborate way just to get us in australia.” 

will sighed, the back of his head rolling against the headrest as he turned into the parking lot of the supermarket that connected frankie’s suburb to will’s, “it’s that very line of thought that has me tempted to tell him i can’t afford the trip.” 

“you’re underestimating that man. he’s probably already paid for all our tickets.” benny chuckled, undoing his seatbelt as will pulled into a parking space. 

frankie hummed, drily retorting, “here’s to hoping that giana has very expensive taste then.” the three men chuckled, leaving the truck and piling between the automated doors where the rush of the air conditioning immediately greeted them. 

benny had immediately gathered a cart, pushing forth as they mumbled between themselves to divvy up the items. as they split, frankie making his way to the refrigerated produce towards the back of the store, his mind took the lull of solitude to walk him down paths he hadn’t ventured in years. 

even with the baby announcement, a sonogram slipped into his wallet, frankie had never found his way to a jeweler. it didn’t feel right to him, a bent knee and promise of forever borne only from the pressure of a family unit forming. it went against everything branded into him, societal expectations, something of family values but frankie did not want to make a promise he had not willingly felt ready to make. in hindsight, he could call it something of a gut feeling with the pieces that he had long since swept up and carefully discarded.

the cordiality he had now with nadine only confirmed that; a ring and accompanying divorce papers would have made it a lot worse. the fracture of that type of union would have wrecked them both too much to make the co-parenting work as it did. he’d admit it that his ex was a gracious woman, there were qualities of her that he looked forward to seeing evie take on, but that love had done more than just weather away. 

so frankie had no understanding of the sort of emotions that engulfed a man as he picked out a ring, finding the love he planned to nurture until he found himself six feet under in a diamond, its cut, the metal band that held it afloat. he’d been tempted weeks prior, to ask santiago how he’d done it. how he’d find the reflection of his wife in a ring before it was slipped onto her finger, how he’d navigated the possibility of her not seeing that same reflection, that title rejected and returned to his pocket. he’d opted not to, not in the heart of the joy of giana sharing that vision so he’d saved the thought, the questions for another time. 

the cooled air from the open refrigerator was enough to pull frankie away from his thoughts, hands on something like autopilot as it gathered the salad ingredients. will had insisted on having at least the illusion of green to put on their plates, a palate cleanser at the very least. so with the crook of his arm cradling the basics of a garden salad, frankie turned his way to the freezers to his far right to dump them into the cart, grabbing at a dressing as an afterthought. 

already stocked with a good amount of meat and beverages, stray hands grabbed carelessly at three packets of chips before will nudged his brother down to the checkout. 

“how many people are you expecting in any case?” frankie mumbled as he stood with his arms crossed beside will, lazily sweeping his eyes across the candy rack alongside them. falling victim to the very strategy for impulse purchase, frankie grabbed at the watermelon sour patch kids that his daughter loved. 

“like ten? not sure on partners or arm candy.” frankie nodded noncommittally, moving up along with the brothers before he ducked down, swiping the four six packs from the cart and slipping behind will despite their protests. 

“what are you doing?” will looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed, “there’s no need for that, fish.” 

he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his face, “buying this exempts me from having to toss the salad.” 

of course, it was the only excuse he could conjure, even as his hands swiped for more items out of the cart as he stepped up to a free cashier before either brother could stop him. it only felt fair, eased at the gnawing anxiety at his heels, turning up empty handed despite knowing his friends better than he knew himself. maybe that was another reason why, knowing them better than he knew himself and knowing that they filled in those holes of knowledge for him. much like they were currently doing and although the pack of ribs and two dozen beers were a far cry from a thank you, it was something of a token of it. 

so he ignored their nagging as they made their way to the exit, receipts in hand, clapping them both on the back as the automated doors parted for them. 

frankie immediately felt the difference after leaving the building, the air more frigid than that of the air conditioned store, the sun that just about kissed the height of the hardware store across the parking lot not doing much to chase away the chill. the colour of it more molten, a rich yoke seeping between the clouds but not touching his exposed skin. 

walking beside benny as he relayed a tale of one of the expected guests for the barbeque, frankie found himself somewhat distracted. at no fault of his friend’s but rather the repercussions of his mind’s new bone to pick at, gnashing teeth and laving tongue that knitted frankie’s brow together. 

it must have been obvious to benny, the free hand that came to clutch at frankie’s shoulder but no lapse in his chatter. so he nodded along in hopes of appeasing his friend as he kicked his feet within the confines of his skull, urging his legs to keep him afloat. 

it took frankie a delayed second to pick up the commotion with benny still talking his ear off, that strong hand still on his shoulder as if the younger man could physically hold his attention. maybe in some roundabout way it had worked, because frankie only noticed the situation as will was halfway across the parking lot, shopping cart just barely being caught by his younger brother, effectively cutting off benny’s words. 

there, a man caging someone in between their own car door and cockpit. the tension was unmistakable, a voice having risen a good number of decibels to draw attention to the fucker that had them trapped, unable to get into their car safely and drive away. frankie squinted as his steps slowed in consequence of processing what precisely was happening, watching as will’s hand clamped down on the perpetrator’s shoulder and hauled him back a good number of steps. 

the victim was shaken up, that much he could make out, almost frozen in place as wide eyes shifted between the two men, something like uncertainty on whether the new addition to the mess was a welcoming one or second cause for concern. it was only when your eyes scanned the rest of the parking lot, seeking out a safety that your hands could not tangibly clasp, that frankie recognised you, cussing beneath his breath.

his hand shoved the bag he had been carrying into benny’s chest as he cleaved a path towards you, the incredulous protests from the younger miller barely registering. his usual gait was lengthened, barely minding cars pulling out of their spots or making their way to the exit until he reached the back door of your sedan. your eyes locked onto him and there was the furrow of your brow for what seemed to be a split second before your shoulders inched down from your ears and he could see the relief at a familiar face. 

frankie spared a secondary glance at will and the shithead paces away from your car now, his close friend looked to be seconds away from shedding the controlled measures of his temper, but then he turned back to you, a soft call of your name to further cement to you that the danger is being handled. he stepped close enough to see more of your expression, but maintained enough distance to not steer your mind back into fight or flight. 

“it’s okay now. will has him handled, i can promise you that.” he said softly, eyes darting between yours. it had to be the fear, something unconscious, the way your hand reached forth to ball the fabric of his jacket’s sleeve into your fist. eyes distant, frankie called no attention to it, the tether you had found in his sleeve, a squeeze, bleeding in his chest that fright had not pushed you further into your car, but closer to him instead. 

frankie tried to gather himself, draw out of the adrenaline that had seen him across the parking lot in will’s wake. he mustered a level of calm, mindfully dropping his own shoulders and relaxing his features into something loose, something sure and open for you to lean onto. so he called your name again, this time with more strength to shake you from the frozen state of fear. a state he understood, jesus did he understand it. 

when your eyes met his, they were still wide, a gloss to them that tugged at the tender interior of frankie but he balanced his weight between his feet, “are you hurt, did he do anything-” 

he thankfully did not have to finish that line of questioning because you shook your head, swallowing harshly before skittish eyes went back to will and the root of the situation. it was enough to have frankie take a step around your frame, now stood before you and shielding you from the sight. he shook his head gently at you, arm still close to you, sleeve gripped in your shaking hand. 

“hey, don’t worry about them. will’s got it under control, alright? just focus on me for now.” you blinked slowly, owlish and pale. 

“is he your friend?” you croaked, eyes zipping between his shoulders, trying to find an anchor now that he had obstructed your view. 

frankie nodded, “yeah, he is. a very good friend of mine. we served together, delta force.” 

he hoped it would help, the voluntary information, to further assure you that you were now safe, that the piece of shit did not stand a chance. for the briefest second, frankie’s eyes searched out benny, the niggling in the back of his mind that here, within the parking lot, caught in an altercation, will could very well be triggered. a shitshow, he could only admit to himself with you visibly shaking before him and the voice of will losing that restraint behind him. 

it didn’t take long though, for benny to be making his way across, eyes hardened, mouth flattened into a line. he caught frankie’s eye for a second and with the slightest tilt of his head to behind him, benny made his way to his brother, the wheels of the cart ringing with the force of them being pushed across the tarred parking lot. 

with less to fracture his mind, frankie turned his full attention back to you, smiling softly. 

“still with me?” you nodded, however stiffly and he mirrored you, eyes narrowing to take in the tremble of your hands, the twitch to your mouth and the legs that looked unsteady. the goosebumps on your arms were harder to decipher, between the cold and the shock.“wanna sit down? it’ll at least be a little warmer in your car.” another nod and you moved to do just that when your eyes fell to your hand that still clung to him, grimacing as you flicked up sheepish eyes to his own. 

“sorry, i didn’t realise-” but frankie was shaking his head, his smile still intact. 

“nothing to be sorry for, c’mon.” he inclined his head back to the interior of your car, watching as you obliged, a breath blowing out and momentarily puffing up your cheeks. 

not wanting to tower above you, frankie made himself smaller, crouching down and ignoring the crack of his knees as he sat on his haunches before you, the edge of your car door clutched into his hand. he had questions burning at the base of his throat, whether the harassment had begun within the store, or if he had followed you out and used the isolation of your car as an opportunity. he couldn’t ask them though, not when he was unsure if it would worsen your state and tilt you into brimming panic attack he glanced in your eyes.  

so he scrambled, scurrying within his brain to bring up something casual, mindless, light. anything he could do to evade the dullness of your complexion and the stiff quality of your lips he remembered with crystal clarity being soft and plump in your smile from your last run in. distress, frankie could pompously conclude, had no place whatsoever across your features. 

so his eyes caught the thing dangling from your rearview mirror, spinning slowly and catching the smallest ray of light to glint with each rotation. circular, flat and ringed in a multitude of shades of blue and yet its edges were rough, jagged and dark. the string it hung from was beaded, iridescent but with similar shades to the sliced geode at its center. 

frankie motioned to it with his head, grinning cautiously, “that thing doesn’t hypnotise you when you’re on the road? or are the effects for the other drivers that catch sight of it?” 

it took you a second, blinking and then finally turning in the direction he had motioned to but then your hand lifted, finger catching the edge of the geode slice before you looked back at frankie. “it was a gift, not really to hypnotise but to soothe road rage. semantics i suppose.”  

his grin was less cautious then, hands hanging between his thighs as frankie envisioned you, mouth twisted and eyes angered as you yelled expletives through your windshield. god help him because even the visual of you spitting vitriol only endeared him further. “had it long enough to give a steady review?” 

you huffed, the right corner of your mouth twitching as you turned to look at the hanging charm again, “bullshit. but at least it’s pretty to look at.” 

frankie laughed, eyes soaking in the irk in your eyes thankfully redirected and less heavy on your body. not the perfect redirection, but it was better. much better. 

“and it doesn’t reflect the sun into your eyes?” it had begun to spin again, two twists in one direction before undoing itself and threatening to twist in the opposite direction. the glint continued, softened by the angle of your car and the sun cusping the roof of leroy’s home and hardware. 

this time the twitch to the corner of your mouth was accompanied with a curl, softening, a little flimsy as you met his eyes again. “the shades make me look more intimidating anyways.” 

part of frankie was tempted to lean forward, arch his neck to peer more into your car to try and spot them, something to help his imagination. were the frames more squared or rounded, were you someone who preferred the solid black kind or something thin and metallic? 

but he tamped down the urge, opting instead to nod his head sagely. “i’ll take your word for it.” 

the side glance you returned was enough for him to laugh softly, palms lifting in show of surrender with a smile that could barely be contained. especially now that your right shoulder was leaned against the back of your car seat, legs lengthened and lax before him. the tremble to the hands in your lap had yet to leave but he knew that would take a while. 

“so you served? special forces?” you asked, voice quiet and clinging to the present, eyes dropped to your shoes. 

frankie hummed, “yeah, though the special forces came later. i was a pilot. still am, only i fly around rich bastards and pretend to understand all their mindless chatter now.” 

you smiled then, glancing at him briefly as you kicked your foot at a loose stone beneath your shoe, “fancy. should i be calling you captain or something?” 

the man chuckled, shaking his head as his hand came up, cap in hand as he carded the other hand through his hair, “no, but you could technically call will that.” frankie repositioned the cap back on his head, wiggling the bill of it until it sat snug. 

your head tilted slightly at that, eyes a little more downcast and it caused something to trip up within frankie’s chest. “not sure that would add to the ongoing charm of our first introduction.” he could tell you were trying for it to be light, something tinged in humour and tanged with sarcasm, but it just about fell flat. 

“i wouldn’t worry about that,” frankie said warmly, “knowing him, he’ll apologise before you get the chance to. southern charm and all that, sorry about you having to see the worst of him first.” 

despite the playful twang to his words in portrayal of will, there was the slight pinch in between frankie’s ribs. something ugly and all too suddenly rearing its head. the fear, the demeaning and belittling voice that whispered with aching clarity, that will had come to your rescue. will, steady and strong, body to boot and that’s not to mention his usual charm. the quiet kindness, the self disciplined gentleness of his giant. frankie couldn’t deny that it would be quite the start of a story, with will as the picturesque love interest. that was if you didn’t already have someone, text messages unanswered on your phone, wondering when you’d be home. 

jesus, frankie really had to get a grip on himself. these thoughts had no place for the situation and as much as he tried to bat them away, the more incessant they became. 

you only nodded then, half convinced if at all, before you looked up into his face again, “well, i do want to apologise to you, for well, all of this.” you circled your hand insipidly to gesture at the situation before it fell limp in your lap again. 

“don’t,” frankie implored, rising slightly to fight the ache in his legs, “i don’t want you apologising for that fucking jackass, and by apologising for me–willingly by the way—coming to check on you, that’s what you end up doing.”  

he watched as you took a deep breath, stretching your body as you held it for a second before blowing out softly, eyes falling closed. when you opened them again, they were tired, an exhaustion that betrayed just how rattled you had been. 

“if anything, i’m sorry you even had to go through this. you should be able to go about your day without having to be cornered and scared of-” frankie shook his head, the anger choking in his voice as he looked away. there was shame there too, strayed but it greyed the smoldering of his anger. he sighed, something more of a puff of condensed breath before he turned to face you again. 

“i’m sorry for the undeserved fear he put in you by being something less than fucking human.” 

when you smiled, it was small, sad and it hooked into both of frankie’s lungs and heaved it up into his throat. “all that talk about me not apologising for the prick and then you go and do it, francisco?” 

despite the breath you had caught and trapped at the base of his throat, frankie shrugged, eyes refusing to leave yours, “better me than you.” 

a lapse of silence held eyes in an exchange of words that felt too heavy to convey before movement behind frankie had your brows twitching, face drawing tight as you craned your neck to peer over his shoulder. 

“hey, eyes on me. nothing to worry about back there.” frankie spoke, a little more strength in his voice from the lightness he had been maintaining. he used that as his excuse to finally stand to his full height, hiding the wince at the strain within his legs as his hand slid up to cup the corner of your car door. 

instead his eyes went to the keys in your ignition and then travelled back to your hands, not as violent in the trembling from earlier but still maintaining a tremor that had him frowning. 

“you have someone you can call to drive you home? someone waiting for you? i don’t think you should be getting behind the wheel right now.” he was hedging, the question ultimately coming from a place of concern despite the subsequent information he would learn from it. 

but you shook your head, gathering yourself as your gaze fell to your steering wheel, “uh no, and i don’t really wanna be any more of a bother to anyone. i’ll be okay.” 

frankie’s frown deepened, “calling a friend or family member in a time of need is far from being a bother.” 

you had just turned to him, lips parting to answer when frankie heard oncoming footsteps. he tensed, unsure and on edge as he had not kept track of what had been happening behind him. even cursing himself, he blocked you off and winced at the stance. he chanced an apologetic look at you, hoping that the position didn’t drag you back but you offered him a small smile of reassurance, inching just slightly closer in his direction. only then, did he look over his shoulder, relaxing when he watched the brothers make their way back to the pair of you. 

frankie offered you a murmured ‘it’s alright’ before he angled his body to the millers, stood more beside you as the two men came to a stop before you both. benny looked between the two of you, before he finally smiled at you. it was will who spoke first, nodding at frankie in confirmation that things were taken care of, “i’m so sorry that our introduction has to follow something this unsavory. my name’s will miller. i’ve reported the guy to the store, but just in case, my brother has his license plate written down.”  

as will offered his hand for you to shake, frankie glanced at you with a smile, watching as you clasped his friend’s hand with mirth twinged at the corner of your eyes. you introduced yourself then, offering a similar apology that will immediately denied, but then you shook your head at frankie as you sat back, secretive mischief tucked into the corners of your mouth as your eyes fell on benny. 

“ah shit right, i’m the brother, benny. i grabbed you water while i was waiting inside for will.” he stepped up, shaking your hand before he passed the bottle to you, covered in condensation. 

frankie watched as you blinked in surprise, gratitude widening your eyes as you took the bottle, immediately thanking the younger miller. it took you a second then, eyes falling to the bottle now clutched between both hands before looking up between all three men and more carefully guarded emotions swam there. 

“thank you, all three of you. honestly i don’t know what i would have done if you hadn’t stepped in-” but you could barely finish the sentence before frankie was quick to stop your mind from slugging you down those corridors. 

“don’t. you don’t have to think about it and we only did what we should have.” you looked up at him, expression more vulnerable than he had been prepared for but he still reserved a smile for you, coaxing you to mirror it. and you did, small and wavering, but you did. it was enough to prompt his next offer. 

“let me drive you home, will and benny can follow behind us, make sure you get home safe.” 

“francisco, no i can’t-” but he shook his head at you, features softening, even as he felt the look from benny at the use of his full name. “if you’re uncomfortable with the offer, i’ll completely understand that and back off, but if this is more of the being a bother talk, i won’t hear a word of it.” 

a sigh left your lips, eyes drooping but unmoving from his and frankie could see it, the fight you were yet to put up and he was proven right, a second time within fifteen minutes. “i’m keeping each of you from your families and your plans for the remainder of the day. i’m okay driving back.” 

frankie fought off a smile as he shook his head at you once again, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against your car. “evie’s mom has her for her mandated two weeks. the only family you’re keeping those two from is a sausage fest that isn’t due for another.. hour and some odd minutes. anything else?” 

he could only hope the slip of information was smooth enough to not catch the attention of the two pairs of eyes burning into his side profile, but part of him could barely care when you finally looked away from him with a frazzled sort of energy about you.  

“you always this stubborn, francisco?” the chorused yes that answered you was enough to make you laugh softly, face a smidge lighter and eyes finding a sliver of radiance. your gaze swept from him in thought back to the brothers, sheepish and apologetic once again. “are you guys sure? i’m purposely asking you and avoiding looking at him to be extra sure.” 

despite himself, the corner of frankie’s mouth slanted as he turned to his friends, finding similar amusement in their expression even as they smiled at you kindly. it was benny that answered you this time, “it hurts me to admit it, but the bastard is right to be stubborn on this. i think we’d all feel better if we knew you got home safely.” 

you rolled your lips at that, eyes falling to the ground before you shook your head and stood. as you let out a breath, frankie could see your mind being made up. 

“i’m not sure yet how, but i will make it up to all of you, i swear it.” you made sure to look each square in the face, jaw tensed with conviction as a dare for any of them to challenge you but all you got in return were scattered chuckles and then frankie spoke up. 

“you can start by getting into the passenger seat.” the lopsided smile on his face was a consequence of his words, or at least that was what he tried to convince himself as you narrowed your eyes at him, a threatening finger pointed at him as you rounded the front of your car. 

as you opened your door, frankie turned back to the brothers, nodding at them and purposely ignoring the curiosity that sparked in shades of blue as they turned back to will’s truck across the parking lot. with their backs turned, frankie slipped into the driver’s seat of your car, a grunt falling from his lips when his knees knocked into the steering wheel. 

he huffed a laugh, glancing to you beside him as his hand reached beneath the seat, patting haphazardly to find the little lever. frankie’s other hand clutched the seat between his legs as he guided it back until he could comfortably get his legs stretched out to reach the pedals. 

there was a look on your face, eyes blinking owlishly as he situated himself, that frankie couldn’t place but he thought better of inquiring about it. having fixed the mirrors and fastened his own seatbelt, he turned back to you with his hand on the keys in the ignition. “all good to go?” 

you nodded, shifting just slightly in your seat, a breathy voice that murmured back, “yeah. i’ll direct you once we leave the parking lot.” 

frankie nodded at that, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space, eyes in the rearview mirror to find will’s truck slowly inching up behind him. once you directed him straight across the intersection, frankie sat further back in the seat, eyes falling from the mirror down to your charm, a smile kicking up on his face. “good thing the sun isn’t too strong or i’d have to take a page out of your book with the shades.” 

you shook your head in his periphery, hands fiddling with the vents for a second, “are you mocking me, francisco?” 

he chanced a quick look at you, a smile skewed upon his lips as he shook his head, before he faced forward as you directed him left. “mock you? i’d never have the guts.” 

you hummed, something almost distractedly as your restless hands began to fidget with the radio, some slow 80s tune now filling the quiet car. it was hard not to be so achingly aware of you, in the tight confines of the car, frankie only had so much to focus on. so he felt your stare, the long look that warmed the length of his neck and the tips of his ears. 

so he cleared his throat, ring finger tapping the turn signal before he turned the corner, “everything okay?” god, his voice was breathless and he prayed you’d overlook it, the faraway place your mind had taken you stopping you from analysing the sudden pitch of nerves within him. 

“yeah. yes, sorry. just never been in the passenger seat of my own car.” he could almost fool himself into believing that your tone was just as airy as his had been, but instead he hummed in response. 

“feeling alien over there?” 

“something like that.” you picked up the water bottle benny had bought for you then, unscrewing the cap, taking slow sips. 

frankie smiled, both hands slipping lower on the wheel as he came to a stop sign, looking at you for further instruction. you blinked at him, a quick ‘two more streets down and then right’ and he nodded, peeping will’s face in the mirror. frankie was already dreading slipping into the backseat, pulling away from you. he also tried to convince himself that the dread had more to do with the line of questioning sure to follow the foot easing off of the brake than the view of your figure growing distant and smaller behind him. concern, it had to be concern for you, and that level of emotion was acceptable, appropriate. it was only humane. 

the quiet that followed was natural, a lull that didn’t have his hands itching on the wheel or his eyes darting to you, instead the pull to look at you was none too different from what he had come to accept in your presence. no, the quiet held a small jitter but no ants crawling and biting for jerks and squirms. frankie wondered if you felt it too, the silly type of fluttering that came with new people, particularly new alluring people, but he quickly squashed that thought. nailed it down to the floorboards of his mind until the head was snug and level with the planks of it, you’d had enough on your plate for the afternoon. it was not fair to you and it made him shrivel within the driver’s seat, shamed and disgusted with himself. 

so frankie swallowed and took the right at the third stop sign, nodded when you softly told him to pull into the driveway of the red tiled house. with the car in park and will pulled alongside the curb, waiting, frankie cut the engine. the retrieved keys were handed to you with a slanted smile, a little more shaky than he was hoping for but he pushed through it. 

“safe and sound.” you smiled back and frankie hated to see it just as shaky as his own, as if somewhere between the last three stop signs, uncertainty had crept in through the vents and licked at each of your minds. something wayward in him almost had him asking for the keys back, to loop around the block, windows down to return the uncertainty. he knew better though, frankie reeled the spooling thoughts back in, heaping and gathering behind him in an idling truck with questions and meat to be seasoned and thrown on a grill. 

“and i have you to thank for that.” you murmured, still unmoving and looking at him. it was undoing him, bit by bit, but he remained there, in your driveway beside you. 

frankie chuckled, head dipping, “will more than me, honestly. he spotted you first.” there was an apology laced somewhere between those words, that shame tucking into the corners of the words once again. 

your brows furrowed, eyes averting to the glove compartment before you as you opened your mouth and then closed it. he watched as it took you a moment to draw your words together, the game of scrabble you’d been playing in your head requiring concentration, but he was patient. endlessly patient if it meant your company for a second longer. 

frankie was starting to believe it was something like a midlife crisis, only so much worse. the crush he was developing on you was much too childlike for someone his age, it was swallowing him whole and gestating him ever so slowly and there was nothing he could do but unravel with it. how pathetic would you find it? to know that within the week and some odd days since your first meeting, frankie had spent nearly every hour thinking about you, riddled with your smile, your voice and that little line that trailed behind him everywhere he went. eyes peeled for the sights of you. the promise in your parting words.

something about it now made him feel like he was taking advantage of you, as if by staying beside you in that parking lot, by driving you home and now sat here beside you, he was a lowly opportunist. it was bitter on his tongue, despite knowing that his steps towards you were fevered with concern, the hands that held your wheel were steady for yours to ride out the shake they possessed. but the lingering, staying in the unmoving vehicle with you, that was selfish. frankie was pocketing this moment for himself and it was hard to swallow down with any grace. 

you broke the havoc of his thoughts then, turned back to him with shoulders pushed back, “i am thankful for will stepping in, very thankful and i want to tell him that again now, but it doesn’t make me any less thankful for you staying there with me. for keeping me from spiraling into a panic attack, offering me comfort i would not have been able to find otherwise.” 

frankie’s lips parted, a sucked in breath as he let your words find their landing within him. it took a bit, swimming in his blood and crashing hard into his beating heart. he licked his lips and stared unseeing at your garage door, “i’m just really thankful we were there. and i can go to bed tonight knowing we got you home safe.” 

when he angled his head back to you, you were smiling, nothing like the ones you had given him at the farmer’s market but it was better, better than wane of shock on your face prior. 

“i should probably return you to your friends,” you said softly, gazing back to the truck stood perpendicular from your car. frankie nodded, clearing his throat as he reached for the door’s handle. he wanted to offer you help bringing in the grocery bags on your backseat but it felt too much, like he was shoving at your corners. even as it nagged at him, frankie pushed open the car door and slipped out once yours was opened. 

the two of you met at the rear of your car again, him leading you to the truck and the window benny was winding down. the quiet burnt at the back of his neck until he stopped at the back passenger door of will’s vehicle, body turned to you as you stepped closer to the opened window. 

a smile, eyes sincere as you spoke to the brothers, “i really owe you all for this, seriously. i can’t thank you enough. thank you, will. thank you, benny.” 

at least frankie could revel in the manner in which both men fumbled to shake off your gratitude, speaking over each other and shaking their heads at you as they tried to offer you assurance. he was not hopeless yet, it would seem and he had to hide his smile in the collar of his jacket as benny reiterated his words from within your car. 

“you’re home safe. that’s all that matters, okay? and i forgot to hand this to you, i’m really hoping you won’t need it, but it’s best to just keep it on you.” a receipt, of which frankie assumed benny had written out the asshole’s license plate on the back of. you nodded, taking the paper gingerly with another thanks and he hated to see the way your shoulders folded forward as you pocketed the paper. 

so he spoke up again—something slipping too quickly from his lips, something to distract you, something to take for himself as his hand rested on the door handle before him. “i’ll see you around?” 

“less chaotic next time hopefully?” you joked and frankie had to dip his head, relieved to see that it had your shirking edges softening again. so frankie smiled as he lifted his head, softer in hopes to smooth it all out completely, “how about we scratch that phrase altogether? hasn’t been working too well for us so far.”

you hummed as if mulling it over but then you cocked your head sideways, resolve finding you as you stepped closer to him. you stretched out your hand to him, your smile something more shy as you looked him in the eyes and then down to the curb before you gathered yourself again to meet his gaze. “phone? i said i’d make it up to all of you and i meant it.”  

frankie prayed quietly within his head that benny couldn’t see him from his angle, the manner in which he fumbled for the device in his pocket, stuttering as he unlocked it and handed it to you. he watched almost breathless as your cheeks flushed, lip pulled between your teeth as you focused on the screen, tapping away at it. middle school dawned on his shoulders again, standing before his first crush, fumbling for something cool to say. 

thankfully, he remained quiet—transfixed–as you tapped something and he could hear some fleetwood mac song playing faintly, your face bashful as you pressed your thumb down on his phone and it stopped, finally handing the device back to him. 

“now i can be sure to keep my promise.” 

frankie could only smile at you as you stepped back, eyes flicking from his back to the front of the truck as you brushed your hands at your sides and took a breath, smiling at the brothers. “i hope you enjoy your plans for the evening. it was really nice meeting you both, you know, despite the... anyways.” 

“we’ll wait until you’re inside?” will offered, leaning over the console. but you immediately shook your head, hands coming up to reinforce your point. “god please no, it’s okay! i cannot take up any more of your time, besides i still have things to get out of the car so please, i swear i’m fine. thank you.” 

will must have felt the same as frankie did when he spied the bags in your backseat, the urge to help, to ease the load but also not wanting to overstep. to become overbearing so he nodded his head slowly as if trying to convince himself. “alright then. you have frankie’s number now, so if you need anything, just let him know.” 

it was that statement that had frankie finally sliding into the truck, winding his window down once he was sat. “what the captain said,” he slanted a smile at you, enjoying the laugh he got in response as you began to back up further on your lawn. 

you offered them all one final smile, hand raising, “got it. have a good night, guys.” 

the three of them chorused the sentiment back to you before will was pulling away from the curb. you stood on your lawn, waving once he turned around and made his way back down the street. frankie tried to refrain from looking over his shoulder, to take one last look at your figure and he lasted until they inched towards the stop sign. as will turned left, frankie looked back, watching as you stood at your car, door opened to retrieve your things and he sighed. this was going to kill him, and if not, it would eat away at him so slowly that he would pray that it did. 

the stranger, the daydream, the siren’s call in his head and now the number saved on his phone under your name. 

yeah, he was doomed, clay body worming on the potter’s wheel once again. 

when frankie turned forward again, benny was already there, looking at him intently, smile slippery with his barely contained curiosity. “so, francisco huh?” 

he closed his eyes, head pressed into the back of his seat, too unsteady for the questions and answers brimming beneath the low hum of the radio. there was no avoiding it, of course, but he could pretend just a little longer. 

he’d corrected that of course, however begrudgingly because he saw the bait for what it was, glaring at benny as he admitted to only having met you once before. he said nothing more even as pope stared him down from benny’s phone, brows arched and demanding more. frankie had only sat back in the lawn chair, sipping at his drink and looking beyond the phone screen, finding a new appreciation for the handiwork of will’s deck.

in the back of his mind, however, frankie constantly wondered if you were okay, if you had eventually spoken to someone close to you about the situation or if you had persisted in carrying the heaviness of the encounter on your own, stowing it away in order not to bother someone else with it. it irked him, greatly and yet he knew he had no authority to feel that frustration, but it left a bitter aftertaste at the back of his throat—disgustingly reminiscent to the beer his friends had been nursing—to think of you burying it away and having it corrode your innards. 

it wasn’t good, didn’t help in the least and frankie had come up close and personal with that particular truth one too many times—continuing to come toe to toe with it. something of a hybrid between hard learnt lessons and hypocrisy flooded him at the thought, growth not being linear and occurring at a snail’s pace resourcing him in the conclusion. 

so it burned within him for long hours, following him home and to sleep until he stood at his kitchen counter with his phone in one hand and his freshly brewed coffee in the other, meeting the sunrise. he knew that if he didn’t ask you, it would leave him disintegrated, burning away at his brain and hindering him. like a limb left at home, the man would be unmoored with the incompleteness if he didn’t check on you. so frankie typed out the message with the chase of creeping anxiety, barely reading it over before he sent it and allowed his phone to clatter to the counter before him with a heavy sigh. 

for once, frankie had no expectations, brain not having the needed capacity for the spiraling what if’s to sink its claws into him just yet, only deep rooted worry of leaving you at your doorstep, hands shaking and eyes still finding focus from fright. an exaggeration for sure, you’d fared better with the passing of time and the drive home, but frankie knew that not all shock found its target immediately. delaying the panic attack as he did, he couldn’t be sure that his haphazard efforts had completely thwarted its vicious blooming. 

no, he could only wonder aimlessly and hope that his text message didn’t push into the realm of too much, didn’t hike up your heart rate and have you thinking he couldn’t understand boundaries just like the fucker in the parking lot. instead, he had let his eyes fall down to the liquid in his cup, staring and yet unseeing as he let the quiet of the house envelop him. 

frankie had come to realise that morning that the wriggling at the core of him—somewhat unnerving and uncomfortable from the newness of it—could no longer be ignored. it was already beginning to present itself, fuck it had been doing so long before the previous afternoon’s events. will and benny had seen the distance from reality frankie had been toeing at since meeting you, slipping seamlessly, namesake to water, into that daydream where he kept you stowed away. never intentional, but frankie never really needed a fully developed excuse to seek out the places his head could take him. 

that had been the main reason he’d gone cold turkey on all substances; always a long day away or a disgruntled mood too close to grabbing at something that stole from him more than relieved him. the temporary status of it was the crux of it, that burning, acrid crash that left him flayed and so terribly incapable of grasping back control. 

no, those months, bordering years he spent dwelling between the pockets of time and space had taught him to be afraid of being in control. and frankie could not have that. being afraid of the same hands that would cradle his baby, open palm to her back to burp her, silicone-wrapped finger cleaning out her gums was not an option.

those hands had instead clawed him out of that unreality; bloodied, broken fingernails and chafed off fingerprints, but he had done it. for evie. for himself and with the help of his brothers who could no longer standby because of his dismissal. 

but the daydreams of you were different, dangerously so. they were not temporary, no fleeting breath leaving his lungs too fast as he met the hard ground with his back. that was another subsequent difference, with no coming down, there was no crash. your intangible hands—that dusted at his daughter’s knees within his mind’s eye—had never pushed him off the edge. in fact, your hands had never really touched him in those dreams at all, always just teasing to reach for him before the tide drew you back in and he was wading forward, reverent and in wanting. 

a want that deepened the hollow of its hunger with the reply to his message, descending lower as he smiled at his screen, the back of his hand coming up to his face to try to scrub it away but it was a fruitless effort. you were so impossibly charming, shy and polite and yet still willing to give back what he was dishing out. frankie was used to his wit being met with laughter, something almost placating or a good dig or two before moving along the conversation, but you were stubborn. god, it was fun, the way you challenged him, never content with his argument and geared to drive yours further. and then the juggle of a secondary conversation between that, never disjointed or confusing but just working. 

it had been enough to throw him off, eyes drifting to his phone too often, so completely swept up in your conversation that he had left his house fifteen minutes later than he usually did for sunset tours. cursing fiercely at himself as he clambered into his truck, frankie drove a little faster than usual to try and steal back a handful of minutes. he had just stopped at the private heliport when your message had chimed in his pocket. the man had faltered in his steps when he heard it, but ultimately shook his head at himself and picked up the pace. 

frankie saw through the confirmation with the flight consultant, a brief conversation before he trekked down the open field where the helicopter had already been rolled from the hangar. the man rolled his shoulders as he walked through the visual inspection with the mechanic, keen eyes narrowed and focused as he pushed you down, the message you sent burning a hole in his pocket. he convinced himself that he’d fish it out as he waited for his passengers to arrive and not a minute sooner. 

it took all of him to remain true to the unspoken promise, right hand scrubbing down the seam of his jeans, palm itchy and sweaty and chest loosening a measured breath. frankie had to steady himself, blink away the cotton-cloud quality of his brain you had left him with and find his focus. so he swallowed the knot in his throat and pushed through, swinging the helicopter door open to fall into his seat, eyes and hands continuing down the checklist. the low murmur, voice something of a whisper as his lips rounded out his words helped, frankie finding his second skin as his shoulder blades pressed back into his seat. 

once he was satisfied, eyes taking in the avionics one final time, he slipped out of the aircraft again with a sigh. the fluttering in his chest was more familiar to him, the bodily reaction to an oncoming flight both something conditioned into him and something like a phantom limb stretching out and shaking off the pins and needles. it had always felt like that for frankie, the beating rhythm of the rotor blades so congruent to the organ in his chest, calibrated together in a manner that left him part human, part aircraft. it hadn’t been as simplistic as following his passion, it had been creeping along the earth’s surface and fighting to shed off the broken and bruised skin to push against gravity, finding the altitude that stole his breath away and revitalised his lungs. 

his callsign had always been amusingly ironic to him; water had a weight to it that frankie wasn’t overly fond of, directionally unproportionate to where he felt most alive. he was beginning to see the appeal, however, with the oceanic principles of your being; the ebb and flow, something hypnotic and inviting. frankie was only too thankful that catfish were a broad enough species to inhabit all bodies of water. all too willing he was to discover if he indeed was the saltwater variant. he hoped so, despite knowing that his soul had always been something more of a lake than crashing waves at cliffside. 

with the slip of free time, his shoulders more settled now that he was on schedule and head screwed back on, frankie finally pulled out his phone. brown eyes surveyed the area as he did, that creeping feeling of doing something he shouldn’t as he unlocked the device and read your last message, the one that followed him telling you to drive safe after you had told him that your weekend had officially begun. his tongue peaked out, swiping across his bottom lip as his feet shuffled closer together beneath him, a nippy type of anticipation zinging in his bloodstream as his eyes flitted over the words. 

hey francisco? there is actually something i need. 

it was a frivolous thought, fingers almost responding in time with the apparition of the word, brain compelled to tell you anything, but he already had and so he drew back in thought. god, he should have waited to open your message until after his flight. it had shaken up the hornet’s nest; too many possibilities and not all of them too pleasant, because there, in the back of his mind was a voice that had not been drowned out. one that snickered at him, told him he stood no chance, the single father finally scraping his life together when you had met both will and ben. when you had promised to make it up to all of them. 

it was a noxious part of frankie that he struggled to neutralise, the comparison, the gaping and bleeding truth that he was still so lacking—a hazardous construction site of a man. the dread was laced into every second word, every click of his thumb, that you would come to realise there were too many moving parts to him, not yet fitted, not yet secure. 

the tone of your exchange had been friendly, something so comfortable and easy but he hadn’t dared to be overly flirtatious. you’d just bordered on suggestive, words so carefully chosen and arranged that it had pushed frankie’s brows higher up onto his forehead, brain jerking in its effort to keep up and not over analyse. frankie did his best to reply in a similar manner. not truly a game but two overly cautious individuals and had he not met you, not watched the daring inches forward before your careful retreat, he would have entirely overlooked your subtleties. thank god for that, because if there was any chance at all, he could not afford for him to be oblivious to it. 

so he responded, chewing down on the inside of his cheek as he glared down at his screen. he could only hope that you’d make it in time to tell him before he’d be hovering in the air but he resigned himself to having the anticipation crawling across his shoulders and chittering in the shell of his ear, encapsulated by the radio headphones. 

i wouldn’t need to be airborne for this particular something, would i? because if so, i’ll have to refer you to the flight consultant unfortunately :/

had it been anyone else, frankie would have been anxious of his reply being read negatively, but you’d more than proven that his dry humour was all too welcome. it was enough to kick up the corner of his mouth as he locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. he’d taken a glance at the time and he knew that his client and subsequent flavour of the week were due to arrive soon. an old song and dance for frankie, this particular client half his age and making good use of daddy’s money and private helicopter to woo his dates. he’d never been too privy to know if the worn in motions worked well on the dates, but frankie could only assume that it did what with the arranged sunset tours being as periodical as they were. 

at least he had become desensitised to the trust fund baby spitting his game, something that had frankie grimacing in his seat, hand tightening on the cyclic stick as a measured breath pushed out between his clenched teeth. tried and tested patience, enough to earn the roof over his and evie’s heads and the food on the table. the saving grace being that the flight was merely a 30 minute affair and anything he had to say was a drilled through script. 

a script he began to taste on the tip of his tongue with the two figures walking up in his direction; stale and papery in his mouth. frankie had to hide his huff of amusement as his phone chimed in his pocket just as his party came to a stop before him. divine timing, the delayed gratification of seeing your message as his secretive reward with the completion of his work. only this particular reward was up in the air, the smokey corners of his brain convincing him of the worst. he really had to test his control once he reached to switch his airplane mode on. 

despite the niggling at the base of his throat, an itch that hacked at his lungs, frankie straightened to his full height, and the words fell mindlessly from his lips, a monotonous droll as he surveyed the new date. frankie always tried his best to get a feel for his passengers, new ones in particular, where nerves might fester or excitement bubbled too close to the surface. it helped him to adjust accordingly, where safety procedures had to be reiterated with a deeper baritone or a more gentle reminder rang through the intercom post takeoff. 

the date that had her hand daintily placed on his regular’s arm appeared more composed, nodding along to his words where needed and murmuring a small thank you as he concluded, giving them a 5 minute grace period before takeoff. stepping back toward the bird, frankie finally pulled his phone from his pocket again, hesitating for but a second before he hastily, blindly opened his settings to turn on airplane mode. with a measured exhale, something of a victory at remaining disciplined, he pulled himself back into the cockpit and had his hands take over. 

time was a numbing thing, muscle memory and undiluted concentration had frankie back in the reins, more normalcy finding him than it had in a while. it was no surprise at all, that at 6700 feet, he felt more stable within his body, realigned to equilibrium. it had been a feeling, a state of being that he’d always struggled to find the correct words for, with all the practice, all the curious faces that always followed his profession with, what’s it like? saying it was easy would never be true; like with all forms of transport, there was risk, the lives of others tied to each decision you made in that seat. and then of course, the added factor of shoving against gravity with nothing but combustion and metal, no immediate friction to slow the impact of a crash. saying it felt like home wasn’t all that true either, home was evie’s laughter bouncing between the walls of the living room, the combined scent of the fabric softener he had grown attached to using and evie’s bubblegum scented shampoo. home was where frankie had strewn all of his skeletons, kicked them carelessly into the dark and hidden corners, the bristles of his broom keeping them out of the light, away from recognition. 

above life, not quite touching blue but blurring within it, it was weightless—like what frankie imagined a soul to feel like before it found a body. if that soul had scars from a previous body, lives segmented into its composition like the growth rings within the trunk of a tree or it was new, blank and unaccustomed to being weighed down to earth, frankie had yet to decide. there was existing within the suspended space outside of the machine, a part of him conscious and separate from the helicopter and then the remainder of his being that kept a tight grip on the stick, eyes vigilant and mind whirring synchronous with the rotor blades. 

the closest answer frankie could verbalise with accuracy was that it felt like existing twice more; the war between head and heart finding a ceasefire—boundless room given to exist and breathe separately. there was individuality in multitudes, an independence that went beyond the conformed notion of it on the ground. within the air, with the feeling of your heart relocating at takeoff, you had the freedom to indulge in its travels, no pressure to have the mind and heart in concord. 

there existed a space to float, to hover and a means to do so. 

it was this particular quality that made frankie feel the inhaled oxygen penetrate his body deeper as he brought an end to the tour, landing the bird and letting out a measured exhale, blinking as he sat back in his seat. autonomous still in his functioning, slipping free from the aircraft and seeing his passengers off before the post-flight inspection. there, on the ground again, his heart nestled back into his chest and the beating of it slowly filled his ears all over. 

walking out of the office space, the itch in his palm proceeded the settling of his singing blood, weightlessness meeting gravity and all the scattered thoughts he’d left in its care. one in particular that now burned his pocket, a name and a message. frankie forced himself to at least make it back to his truck, one hand on the door handle not yet tugging before he slipped his phone free. he turned off airplane mode and then lingered for just a breath before opening his messages. 

rerouting my requests, francisco? so that ‘anything’ did indeed have terms and conditions :( 

but no, i’d like to know if you, benny or will have any food allergies or restrictions? 

frankie chuckled to himself, the hand clutching onto his truck falling way to type out his first response. 

as much as i’d like to be your personal jesus and miracle worker, yes there would be a few terms and conditions to that ‘anything’.

that space between his eyebrows puckered then, eyes narrowed as he reread your second message. it didn’t offer much into your agenda with the information you required from him and he really had to consider for a good second if his friends had any such allergies. frankie recalled all the meals he’d shared with the two men, but nothing in particular came to mind, all he could remember was scarfing down on the plates before them amidst conversation. their shared history made them all too grateful for big meals. 

no allergies or restrictions that i can think of, but i’ll ask them to be sure if you want? 

your reply was almost immediate. 

yes please, my personal jesus. how was your flight? :)

the man could feel it then; the growing certainty that he stood no chance. whether it was at having you or surviving you, the jury was still out on that particular matter but he felt it in the rush of his breath and the spasming of his heart. you were affecting him. from that room in his mind that he had tried so hard to evict you from, your scent, your voice slipped from beneath the door and invaded all the other chambers of his mind. not with the intention of luring him in, no your presence had made its home and it was seeking out. frankie tried to convince himself that he was putting in effort to maintain a firm grip on himself, that he was keeping himself at a reasonable distance, but the lies could barely float from his parted lips before they fell to the ground, withered and nondescript. you were making it much too easy for the man to forget himself, meeting him toe to toe and then shyly slipping a step back. 

it felt all too precarious, balancing on his fingertips and testing his control, his focus. his resolve. frankie had the secondary thought that if he continued to let the sap in him lead forward, he’d have to ask will for some tips and tricks on self discipline. yanking back control within himself a lesson all over again, but there was no taste of bile at the back of his throat as a warning this time. if you were a poison to his system, it was already too late for frankie—the tastelessness of it, body so far from rejecting it. 

but still he tapped away at his phone, briefing you on the flight and that he was just about heading home as he finally slipped into his truck, a stray promise to ask the miller brothers in regards to your still secretive request. texting you somehow made him function better than he had in weeks, going about his routine at home efficiently despite the pauses in between to respond to you. it was so antithetical to his belief; the days he had spent in a haze from thoughts of you should have been easier—distant and fleeting, intangible ideas of you so far-fetched—that he should have been only slightly distracted. and yet, with you building a physical presence, your tidbits of information painting a more vivid and biographical portrait, frankie felt more grounded. footsteps ambling further instead of the dragging trudges they had been prior. 

he was certain that he was losing another semblance of his sanity. no other conclusion to be drawn for him becoming so fixated on you, to the point of an uncomfortable twist of his internal organs, something inside calling him a creep, something of a pervert for clinging to the images of you. 

frankie mulled over the possibility of loneliness turning him into something more desperate and starved; feelings he had buried so deep within himself while pouring his entire life’s purpose into being there for his daughter. he’d glanced over the truth of it a few times over the years, seeing couples around him, seconds stolen to behold love, but he’d always had the restrain to reel back. the dulling resignation to admit that he was too warped for such a thing. 

that was the terrifying depth of it for frankie, he decided—stirring the chili he had resorted to making for dinner—that looking at you, thinking about you was not a disjointed admiration. twisted into the veins of his thoughts was something like a longing to be at the root of your smile, to be that catalyst to widening eyes, flushed cheeks and the shy duck of your head. his thoughts clung to the image of you grabbing at the sleeve of his jacket for more reason than he was willing to admit, the most hidden being the craving to feel the warmth of that very hand in his. soft, admirably strong and still managing delicacy. he’d looked down at the pair of them trembling and then rubbing at your thighs enough to draw those educated guesses. 

frankie wanted to get to know you, but with a depth, an intimacy that he felt the need to run and hide from. wanting to back away from it to protect the both of you, and yet it seemed the loneliness was overarching in comparison to self preservation. that was his incontestable achilles heel. and the man could only hope and pray that his rationale would keep him from driving the both of you off of the inevitable cliff. that particular string of hope had frankie’s mind flashing with images; cusping golden sun, the shudder of the machine at his control and then the veering plunge, alarms screaming all around him as he tried to soften the blow, measured breaths as he fought the very machine he had plugged a part of himself into. 

with a deep, shaky exhale, frankie turned off the hob, saucepan in his hand as he pivoted on his heels and pulled out a bowl to dish himself a serving of the steaming dinner. with a spoon slipped into his dish, he shook his head. that was precisely the crash and burn he was determined to avoid, only this particular version promised more personal injury and destruction to all that he’d managed to patch together within himself. 

frankie would be careful, he promised himself as he sat down with his bowl in one hand and his phone in the other. he’d grown some, had to believe that he did and there was more strength in him than what felt currently available. the man had pulled himself cold turkey from all substances, the scare big enough to uproot him and have him locked in his bathroom, sobbing on the floor as he came to the cathartic decision. frankie could believe in himself enough to not trickle recklessly down to ruin again. 

maybe this infatuation with you would plateau as he got to know you, maybe he’d come to see that the two of you were built more for friendship than anything else, maybe you’d meet someone else and he’d only be a contact on your phone from some stray day, encounters something ephemeral and distant. 

the thoughts built a discomfort within his stomach before frankie could spoon the food into his mouth, but he forced the hot chili into his mouth, ingesting it along with those possibilities. he could do nothing about them, could only acknowledge them and continue forward, cautious and mindful. 

frankie picked up his phone on the second mouthful, finger swiping to open a different message thread, words tapped out quickly to ask benny as he had promised you he would. the response he got as he was washing his dishes made him huff out in amusement, drying his hands to reply again before he passed along the information, the salute emoji as his period. 

when frankie’s phone chimed again as he plopped down on his couch, tv controller in his hand and hovering to scroll through the channels, his eyes flitted to the lit up screen on the cushion beside him. a stammer; something like a force shoving at his internal organs as everything within him jolted at the portion of the message he had skimmed.

lips parting and tongue pulling free from the roof of his mouth, frankie dropped the remote into his lap as he reached for the other device, unlocking it and clicking on the message to read its entirety. 

what about evie? will she be with you this weekend? i’m thinking of baking something as my thank-you to you and the brothers. a lemon meringue pie to be precise. 

it was a flurry of emotions, enough to draw his brows together as frankie tried to unknot each and find priority amongst them. physically shaking his head as if to knock them all into place, frankie sat up in his seat as he tapped the screen to reply to you. god, what was he meant to tell you? evie was allergic to citrus and you’d been planning on making a lemon meringue pie and to even conceptualise you thinking about his daughter, all his carefully gathered thoughts and plans of action were being tested with immediate effect. frankie shook his head again, maybe he had jinxed it with his certainty that he stood no chance, only it was becoming more clear that it was his survival at risk. a gavel striking once and the resounding clunk of lacquered wood on wood punctuating the finality. 

yeah, her mom’s dropping her off in the morning. she’s allergic to citrus, but you don’t need to trouble yourself, honestly. 

frankie grimaced as he read the sent message back, seeing how the words could be read as a little dismissive. it hadn’t been entirely intentional, but he couldn’t deny that the protective part of him, the father in him, always stepping forth to shield his daughter, especially when he felt so unsteady himself. but as he debated typing up a second message if only to keep the tone light, you had sent your response. 

no, no i promised to repay the three of you. it’s really not much but it’s all i could think of doing. is she allergic to blackberries? maybe i should avoid fruit altogether? i don’t want her to feel left out from the sweet treats, if that’s okay with you. 

he leaned back into the cushion of his couch, a hand wiping at the bristle-like hair at his jaw, heart still pounding in his chest. these waters in particular were uncharted and frankie was currently floundering. he had never put thought into the dynamics of new people coming into his life and evie’s exposure to them. fuck, before meeting you, frankie hadn’t even considered meeting new people, relationship friendly or otherwise. and now, he was lost and feeling antsy as he usually did where his daughter was concerned. you had met her of course, though that particular meeting held no resonating weight to it. not then, at least, he was too struck by you to even fathom seeing you again. that was the superlative issue for him as he reread your message, whether allowing you into his life would hold a different weight than it did at that initial meeting. 

there was the high possibility that he was overthinking it, that he was getting ahead of himself, but that was the thing about being a parent. everything felt so far out of your depth, there was always the niggling feeling that you were in some way or another failing your child. and you were not asking to see his daughter again, had only considered her in the offering of gratitude you were planning for him and the miller brothers. god, you hadn’t even divulged any further on how exactly you were planning on dropping off the baked treat, who exactly would be receiving it initially. being your point of contact, frankie could only logically deduce that it would be him, but there was always the possibility of you throwing him for a loop. like you had just proven to do. 

so he typed out his next reply slowly, forcing himself to breathe, settle back down. he considered each word this time, not wanting to be a complete asshole but also having to be reasonable. heights, frankie was used to, but balancing on the tightrope that he currently found himself on, he was beginning to understand that fear he would try to ease out of some of his passengers. 

blackberries are fine. what will you be concocting with them precisely? considering your first idea, my expectations are high. 

setting the device down again, frankie blinked at his television, almost unseeing at the shootout scene playing in front of him. feeling set back in his resolve, he found that he could barely find a full breath. the expansion of his lungs post flight had done him no good, those very organs seizing and then crimping with each new breath. you had stolen it all over again, only this time, frankie’s head was not fluffed out with sugar spun daydreams. no, his head was whirring with a vigor that tempted him to press the back of his hand to his forehead to test for overheating, a genuine cooked up fever. 

there was a decision to be made, pressingly so and the man wasn’t sure he had the resources or strength to make an informed one. there would be no getting around it–this was his daughter, the very reason frankie had picked up the jagged, marred shards of himself to restructure, remodel. no longer just into a functioning man, but a functioning father, and all of that was still in construction. shifting things around now, adding in new factors to that unsteady site felt detrimental, unwise. the foundation had yet to settle and now the man was juggling the idea of adding an extra room, an extension up in the air where a blueprint had not called for it. 

no, no that was him getting ahead of himself. that was him letting the racing thoughts ring in first place, ribbon torn through with the sheer velocity of them sharpened to a point. a bullet firing from a chamber, a finger too quick. he couldn’t keep doing that, so the white knuckled grip loosened, shaky as his pointer eased off of the trigger. 

people would always come and go, not all of them would be significant, not all of them remembered by evie. but it was in caution of protecting her from those that would smudge across her hippocampus with enough force to leave a mark. as much as frankie wanted to convince himself that you wouldn’t ever intentionally do that, he still didn’t know you well enough, and still held that very twin kernel—fear to hope—that you would not leave that very smudge against his own brain. 

so cautious he would remain, keep your encounters with evie as minimal as possible, less surface area, less china set on the table should the runner be pulled out from under it. he’d navigate these untested grounds with the vigilance that had been forced into him, that had kept him alive thus far, and he’d start with leaving the ball in your court. frankie would have to observe precisely what you did with the ball before he could breathe fully again. with divine timing, his phone chimed once more. 

blackberry chocolate cake. put your expectations aside or at least don’t voice them to me, i’m anxious as it is. is there any possibility of me rounding you all up on sunday to deliver said cake? 

vague, careful, the steady momentum of the ball never leaving the ground as it rolled back to rest between his feet. 

frankie let out a dry, confounded huff as his head fell back, eyes closing for but a moment. there was a level of amusement to it, the pair of you stumbling about, bumbling reserved fools with a stubborn streak that still persisted, still wanted to proceed, tripping feet be damned. it was endearing, it softened the edges frankie had felt scrape against the wearing fabric of his couch, body giving as much as the cushion. 

reprieve at the very least, offering some semblance of finding sleep tonight. 

i’m sure something can be arranged with a blackberry chocolate cake as motivation. i’ll let you know in the morning at the latest? 

i thank you kindly. i’m going to prep the compote in the meantime. 

that sounds fucking fancy. 

my anxiety, francisco. let’s be mindful and humble. 

yes chef.

it was a prudent exhale, the smile starting only as a twitch at the corner of his mouth before he felt free to let it split along the seam of his lips, the curve swallowing the light illuminating his face. the tired ache within him wasn’t all that of physical exertion, but the kind of droop to the eyes that was subsequent to the jagged pulsing of all emotions, adrenaline depleted. frankie could be small minded and blame you; put you at the epicenter of all the loops and dips he’d seen his mind and heart through, but he knew better. the hand that you played in it was of his own reaching fingers. the part you played was from invitation alone. 

large, strong hands so foreign on the wheel before you, the perspective of your car’s interior so different to you, made even more so by the tall, impossibly kind and attractive stranger beside you, left you adrift. feeling alien was something of an understatement. 

you’d poured yourself a healthy glass of wine once you’d packed all your groceries away, checked the locks of your front door twice over before you threw yourself on the couch. sipping at the glass, your eyes had locked onto the pitch black of your television screen. and then the intermittent trembling to your body had begun, shock finding your body in the quiet of your living room. it took you too long to finally reach for your phone, in need of another distraction to keep from the feelings that crawled across your skin like insects. as the light of your lockscreen flooded your face, a stuttered breath broke from your parted lips. 

the top notification from over forty minutes earlier, the missed call you’d made to your own number from francisco’s phone had greeted you. distraction enough to carefully save the new contact. frankie, will had called him. it made sense even as part of you wondered if the nickname was something reserved for those closest to him; something more intimate for him. but even so, you saved his number under his full name. rolled it around on your tongue before swallowing it down along with another sip of merlot. 

that’s when you returned to the rest of your notifications, finger hovering over your keyboard as you debated debriefing the situation to your closest friend, her sporadic messages all reflecting her disjointed thoughts throughout her day. something in you had been afraid to dampen her mood with it all, but there was an excessive pounding in your head, the shaking in your hands returning. so you had sighed and sent a spark notes version of it to her. and within seconds of the message being read, your phone had rung. 

are you okay? want me to come over?  

so they reported the guy to the store? 

and then inevitably, wait, how’d you meet the one that drove you home again? 

part of you had wanted to huddle that particular detail within the shell of your chest, keep it separate from the story altogether. but you knew yourself better and with the line of questioning that always fired from your longest known friend, you’d be sure to slip up. so you divulged, voice as dismissive as you’d dare to try and yet it had not been enough. 

when she’d ask for his name and you had whispered it along the receiver, the silence that followed had told you enough.

francisco? huh, interesting. and you gave him your number? 

you’d scrambled to justify the boldness that grappled you one too many times in the presence of the man, excuses that fell short from your lips and confused you enough to lose the strength in your insistence. it was only meant to make sure that you could properly thank him and his friends, but you had stared at his saved contact on your screen for a minute too long before the phone call with your interrogator. 

thankfully, the cross questioning regarding that particular branch didn’t continue on for much longer, her voice dipping to something softer as she asked if you’d want company for the night, if you’d be alright on your own. you had declined her offer and when you ended the call, your breath wasn’t as heavy on your chest and the tightness there had eased just enough for it not to pinch with each inhale. 

it took you much longer to find your way to your bedroom, lighting a scented candle on your dresser after your shower. as you slipped beneath your comforter, your mind warred between the need for silence and something to drown it all out, diluting the images of the figure caging you into your car. you slipped out of your bed more times than you could count, haunting your empty house with soft feet padding down the hall from the living room to the kitchen and then back to bed. pillows fluffed on the couch before a glass of water at the counter. checking your laundry basket before blowing out the candle in your room and then seated at the foot of your bed to find deeper breaths. 

in the end, you had turned on a 2000s romcom as you crawled back into bed with your phone in your hand, opening your call list only to stare at the second listing. a name that danced on the tip of your tongue, tingling there for almost two weeks. a name that had choked within your dry throat when he had come bounding across the parking lot, brows furrowed with clear concern, frantic and still trying. trying to tether you to the ground, smiling warmly at you as you clutched at his sleeve. you couldn’t even recall reaching for it, only that you’d found the surface within your mind when he’d stepped into your line of sight. the way francisco had called your name, something coaxing, something rousing and steadying had breached light across the depths you had crawled into. 

among the self frustration and hatred at yourself for shirking inwards, freezing and struggling to find the power to be as abrasive as your blood had turned in your veins at the perpetrator’s harassment, there was the hollowing resignation. you unconsciously closing that door and shutting down. it was so dangerous, so stupid and yet in that moment, it had been instinctive, something happening within you before you could think better. and then, the hand breaking the cage, a breath deeper with the man being hauled away from you and the careful approach of a voice, dulcet and attentive. 

as you stared at the name on your screen—it dimming steadily with the wave of thoughts you’d been drifting in—you had let out a deeper breath, eyes closing just as your phone locked in your raised hand. the gratitude flooded you again, had you turning onto your side as you let the memory of his voice lull you once again. safe and sound. 

but as you clung to those words, eyes heavy within their sockets, the second sentiment felt less true with the metaphorical hands that clutched onto the images of francisco. the silhouette of him drowning out the hulking one that crowded you, his voice smoothing the edges that had brushed against your frazzled nerves. and then the bitterness of guilt that dried the tip of your tongue as you finally found sleep, exhausted to the marrow of your bones. 

when you awoke that friday morning, restless and heavy all at once, you did your best to shove away the thoughts of the previous afternoon. those including the drive home, the smiling faces of three men that held not a lick of superiority from their actions, but only the gentleness that saw you home, unscathed. you didn’t fare too well, the message to your friend to reassure her that you were okay, only coaxing you to open the phone app again. it was a ridiculous notion, something you boiled down to your fraying mind trying to find any avenue of dopamine as you threw the device face down on your bed to go about your morning routine. 

dressing yourself for the day had you glancing to your unmade bed, loopholes forming in the clouds of your mind to pick up your phone. you walked out of your room barefoot to get to your kitchen, guzzling down a glass of water as you drummed your fingers on the kitchen counter. you considered breakfast—anything to scramble together a semblance of normalcy for your morning—eyes darting to your fridge to mentally tally its contents. still, you pulled it open and scanned the items you knew to be there. mindless distractions, empty actions.

you closed it then, trudging back to your bedroom. you whipped your phone off of the bed, having it clank down on your dresser as if it had burned you as you got to making your bed. you kept your back to your dresser the entire time, shaking a touch too aggressively at your sheet and tucking the corners in tightly. it continued on like that until you grabbed your work bag, staring down hard at your dresser before you shoved the device into the bag and made your way out of your house. 

you had tried to convince yourself that it would be better, easier once you got into your car and made your way to work where the usual tasks would keep you too busy to dwell. but you realised the error in your thinking the second you came to a stop before the driver’s door. 

your hand on the handle had stilted your movements, swallowing harshly as you closed your eyes shut to do away with the sensations flooding you. the rush of your steps to your car, that looming presence calling behind you and ignoring your dismissals. so you yanked the door open, slamming it shut with a shaky exhale. 

and there, a second flood of sensations found you. 

you brushed your hands down the steering wheel, stretching your legs out curiously despite knowing you’d miss the pedals. within the space of opening the car door and shutting it, the prickling at the back of your neck had softened–the claws, gangly and jagged, that threatened to close in on you, faded away and large hands ghosted over its wake. warmer, engulfing in a way that didn’t threaten claustrophobia and undoing the creeping chill, allowing for you to seep into the open palms. 

that’s when you turned to look at your bag where it sat on the passenger seat, lips rolling between your teeth as you considered it. a simple message, a token of appreciation. you’d said it to him, to all of them a few times, but seated in your car, at his height, you felt it anew. so much so that part of you dreaded having to scoot your seat back to its original position, hand tilting the rearview mirror down and erasing the lingering presence of francisco. another ridiculous notion, one only urged away when your eyes caught sight of the time and spurred you into motion. 

your movements were jerky, reluctant but when you turned your key in the ignition, your eyes caught the suncatcher dangling from your rearview mirror. your feet sat comfortably on the pedals, hands resting on the wheel and there, glinting off of the bluegreen, iridescent beads bordering the blue lace agate slice was a trace of francisco. your sunglasses were stowed away in the console and the thought of it alone had a smile kicking up on your face. you would contact him, maybe some time around lunch, you decided as you pulled out of your driveway. it didn’t have to feel so daunting, didn’t have to kick up your heart rate when you’d already promised to find a way to show your gratitude.  

it was a constant chant in your head, a mantra you had drilled down to broken consonants and blunt vowels as you pulled into your designated parking space. your hand blindly searched for your phone as you put your car in park, weak promises to yourself that you’d only draft up options, things to say. you’d remembered some wayward advice from a past therapist that expelling the thoughts in some form or another gave no ground for them to haunt your headspace. 

that was the idea, the third ridiculous notion you’d concocted that friday morning. 

and as the age old phrase foretold, the third time was indeed the charm, because as you tapped on your screen, one particular notification had your eyes widening. your hands froze, torn desperately between chucking the device as far from you as possible for the second time within your morning and fumbling to have it unlocked and opening the message you’d received. 

shuffling in your seat and taking a second to undo your seatbelt, you took a steadying breath and unlocked your phone, eyes catching on francisco’s name among the notifications. a message sent 11 minutes ago. you’d barely given yourself a chance to read the preview of the message before you were opening it, eyes blinking and then taking in the words. 

hey, hope i’m not being too much but just wanted to check in on you this morning. and i also felt terrible for not offering to help you with your groceries. :/

a laugh bubbled from your lips, head ducking despite no one being there to physically shy away from. your mantra fell flat in your head, the words slanted, pieces breaking away because francisco had beat you to it. your fingers found the keyboard before you could overthink your words, drafts damned the moment your eyes had caught his name on your lockscreen. 

good morning, francisco. i really appreciate the check-in :) heavily doubt being something equivalent to an angel can be seen as being too much though. and forget about the groceries. if you had offered, i really would have felt like a burden. 

you locked your phone immediately after having sent the message, not having the courage to hope for an instantaneous response. so you gathered your things, car keys in one hand with your bag and phone in the other as you slipped out from your car. just as you locked the vehicle, your phone buzzed in your hand. 

that was when the flutters took reign of your stomach, no longer sporadic tingles from memories that had you physically shaking your head and sighing deeply at yourself, but incessant and alive. your back straightened as you shuffled the items in your hands to slide your keys into your bag, pushing it higher up onto your forearm as you brought your phone closer to your face. a smile, fighting to ball your cheeks tight beneath your eyes when you caught sight of his name. 

you began walking then, despite the excitement bubbling within you, balancing it out with the reality that you had a shift to complete paces from where you were standing beside your car. so you glanced around you for any oncoming vehicles before you shuffled forward, head bent down to read the text message you had opened. 

can i trust your sources on this or am i talking to the source again? so you’re doing okay? you didn’t exactly answer on that front. 

bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you lifted your head to swing the glass door before you open, pausing as it closed behind you to gather yourself. there was something about francisco remembering your first conversation with him so clearly that made you unnecessarily giddy. it was a singular conversation, a short exchange so it wasn’t all that crazy for him to remember it, but it was the manner in which he referred back to it, the intimacy of that shared context that untethered you. he’d done it the day before as well, stood at his friend’s truck as he repeated your words back to you, more of a question from his lips than it had been on yours. 

so you’d reciprocated, fighting a grin then too and it only proved more difficult when he’d turned his head away from you, a shyness blooming on his face that had lit that spark of courage in you once again. it seemed to be a growing dynamic between the two of you; where the tide drew one of you in, the other stepped into the waves to coax it back to the sands, steps retracted when the seafoam came rushing back, lapping at the ankles. 

so with a surveying sweep before you and a step away from the door, you indulged further with another reply before you had to set your workday into motion. but for another minute, you tucked yourself into a corner, overcome with a giddiness you could yet fully come to terms with, wayward knowledge that you would soon have to gather it into a box for inspection later. one corner of your mouth twitched as your thumbs flew across the bottom of your screen. 

are you saying you can’t trust me as a source, francisco? and i’m doing okay! i just got to work actually. thank you. 

when you locked your phone this time, you slipped it into the back pocket of your pants. you’d have to use the excuse of work to settle the butterflies in your stomach. to gather your wits about you and hope that when you picked up your phone again, you wouldn’t feel like you were 15 again, discovering the overwhelming despair of crushing on a boy and having your every waking thought revolve around him. 

that was your fourth ridiculous notion. francisco had been a thought always lingering in the periphery of your mind for a day short of two weeks. from the glances you had stolen of him with his daughter—smiling down at her and encouraging the giggles that floated to you at the table riddled with cheese and complementary jams—up to the bashful expression on his face as he apologised for his daughter bumping into you. when you’d turned your back on them that saturday, you’d been floating, blinking to try and dispel the flooding images of his dimpled smiles, the variations of them you had been able to witness. the playful grin as he stared down at evie, the coaxing, smaller smile as he knelt before her and then, the shy, warm slant of his mouth as he looked at you. 

you’d berated yourself heavily as you drove home that day. you were so entranced by him, the big brown eyes that had no right being so expressive and heart tugging, the pout of his lips that drew your eyes down too many times for you to shamelessly admit and the curls so similar to evie’s that snuck out from beneath the confines of the ballcap on his head. you had tried to convince yourself that it was solely the sweet interaction between the father and daughter that had captured your attention at first, but then you found yourself turning your head in their direction two more times. qualities of francisco appealing to your senses and demanding it, even from something like five tables away. you hadn’t even lingered on thoughts beyond the sight of him, head clouding with glitter specked images of him and his smile. 

something like shame had heated your cheeks as you had pulled into your driveway. head thrown back into the headrest as you sighed, cutting the engine. the man had been there with his daughter alone, but it did not eradicate a partner. when your mind had finally snagged onto that thought, it unspooled completely because of course someone that achingly sweet, with a laugh that feathered up the pearls of your spine and looks that enchanting would have someone. it only made sense and the mortification at having been even slightly too friendly with him, for not even considering someone special being in his life had eaten away at you. 

as his name continued to haunt each step you took for the days to follow, so did the guilt. guilt from daydreaming, guilt from coveting the candle-like warmth of the man that had turned shy under your gaze. and then, as your mind loved to do, it redirected that shyness that coloured his cheeks and the length of his neck into discomfort, an apprehension to your barely there advances. francisco seemed the type, from the glimpse of him you had seen then, to not know how to immediately dissuade advances, a heart too soft to be abrasive, gentle in its rejection. 

so your time spent riddled with thoughts of him were warring, an amalgamation of emotions that bittered the edges of you, pulled tight tension across your forehead and had you entirely too tired with yourself and the fragment of a man you were clinging to. then he’d let the information slip when he had insisted on driving you home; evie’s mother seemingly not being much a part of his life anymore. unknowingly, francisco had crashed servers within your mind. error windows popping up and overlapping as you stared at him and tried your very best to appear nonchalant with the added knowledge. 

with his name making its appearance on your phone as if all your thoughts of him had summoned him, it felt needed. it felt necessary to slip the device away once again, to square your shoulders and at least pretend that the slightest sound from it wouldn’t have you scrambling for it. you had to convince yourself, prove it yourself that you could spend at least a few hours as you did before the clumsy introduction that stray saturday at the farmer’s market. 

smacking your lips, you conjured your sixth and final ridiculous notion of the day, something past nine in the morning—spending your day as if the name francisco bore no meaning to you, a stranger once again. fleeting, frivolous, insignificant. 

finding your office chair, your resolve just slightly dwindled as your hand fished out your phone from your pocket. it took a second, staring at the black screen before you set it down and slid it as far from you as possible. 

out of sight, out of mind. 

that was your new mantra, seeing as francisco had quickly done away with the one you had kept steady on your way to work. something of an inkling at the very back of your mind whispered that he’d do the same with the replacement too. 

it took exactly two and a half hours—eyes averting in the direction of your phone with each chime and the last resort of music playing softly in your ears to dissuade from each notification—for you to finally crack. the anticipation had bubbled within your blood vessels and kept you on the edge of your cushioned desk chair, foot bouncing in, what you tried to play off as, rhythm of the music. 

you’d been shortsighted. again. overestimating the capabilities of your frazzled mind, so desperately hoping that spiting yourself would be motivation enough to concentrate on work. but schedules reviewed and edited, colour coded for that extra something to do had not been enough. when you turned to filing and reorganising contracts via the date of upcoming termination, you knew you were grasping at straws. as luck would have it, work was slow, dragging on and leaving you with pockets of time gaping and empty. 

it was only when your deskmate had looked at you, pointing out the pen you were chewing on, with levity that you finally decided that you had done enough. the attempt had to count for something. 

so you excused yourself to the bathroom, hand grabbing your phone and seeing yourself down the hall with a rush you could not explain. the clack of your shoes on the laminated flooring echoing loudly and booming along with your accelerated heart rate, that distant feeling returning all too quickly. you tried to swallow it down, count the multiple birthdays that had passed since you last entertained something so fatuous, but the closer you drew to the bathroom, the more fleeting your attempts appeared to be. locked in a stall with your shoulder blades pressed back into the door, you blew out a long winded breath and pulled up your phone. your cheeks took on a heat you tried to blow away pointlessly, eyes flitting over his name and the message he’d sent about thirty minutes after your last message. 

it was a last ditch effort, opening the message from your friend first as if to test the last stringent of self control left within you. a stray attempt at delayed gratification. she was letting you know that she would stop by yours after work and something in you prickled with awareness. however unavailing, keeping your composure over the phone was much easier than when she could see the truth of the matter much too clearly on your face. 

that was your pitfall with your loved ones; the moment you opened your heart to someone, all smokescreens wafted away, leaving nothing but glass. fragile, transparent and refracting all your emotions in something like a lightshow. it was all the emotions you were swallowing down that you knew she’d see the minute you swung your front door open and a self preserving shred of you considered for a moment dissuading her. your need for company, a soundboard steadier with objectivity outweighed that self preservation and you replied to her, affirming the time. 

no more distractions found you then, the contact just below hers displaying an unread message that beckoned you further down the rabbit hole that something worse than curiosity had led you to. you could have lied to yourself and pinned it all down as a culmination of reasons and feelings that caused your pulse to quicken, but you’d concluded that you had lied to yourself long enough and it was time to break that streak before the official two week benchmark. 

you were absorbed within francisco, rapt with attention where he was concerned and pleased to have him handing you more. unconsciously or not, the man was feeding something within you that hadn’t hungered in a long time. it should have been laughable, the crush that had begun to creep on you, catalysed by the warmth of his care, sitting you down and crouching before you, getting you home safe and then checking on you come morning. the kindness within francisco was your undoing, both in its nonchalance and the heavily intended variations of it. and as much as you wanted to feel some level of shame for basking in the snugness of it—it felt like an insult to him, the shame. 

trying to rationalise his kindness, the gentleness of those big hands and disarming eyes, felt criminal. it stripped something from him within your mind and you could not stomach disseminating francisco like that. there was the understanding that you had yet to come to know him, but there was no working around the core of him and that core was molten, golden and invaluable. it was announced in the very motion of his being and you were close to complete certainty that nothing could warp that perspection of him in your mind’s eye. francisco was simply the embodiment of that first crush that saw longevity; a broadened daydream that stretched into the future with a leveled reality. where the gravity of life didn’t feel too heavy, his steady hands warm and real and shaped to bear the weight of continuing life together. 

the brown eyed man was the tangible body of ideals that had always turned you soft boned and dreamy eyed, feather far thoughts of someone too good to be real. and now his name was alight on your phone screen, messaging you. 

i think we can both agree that you being a source raises questions of bias, no? i’m glad you’re okay. don’t hesitate if you need anything and i mean anything. 

thumb tucked between your teeth, the corner of your lips quivered, the lids of your eyes fluttering. he was real, too real and yet your head could not fully conceptualise that fact. in the back of your mind—amid the trickling qualities of a freshwater body, sparkling from the golden beams of sunlight across its surface, sweet chirps of birds and the soft batting of butterfly wings—you recognised the fear. the biting incisors of projecting onto the very limited image of francisco you had come to know. a real fear that you were fluffing out the painting of him, adding swipes of colours and shading that were purely for your indulgence. 

and in acknowledging that fear came the consequential dread of setting yourself up for disappointment. that was what gave your fingers pause, frozen a stroke from the screen of your phone. something about being disappointed in francisco because of your own assumptions opened a corrosive pit within your stomach, dropping your internal organs lower in threat of falling straight through it. another disservice to the man that you balanced on a precarious edge within your story book riddled state of your mind. 

as you straightened, full weight brought to your grounded legs, you swore to yourself that you would not objectify francisco, mold him into a portrayal of something that suited you. no, what you truly wanted was to get to know him, have him paint down the finishing strokes on his own canvas within your mind. the colours would be chosen by his hand and you would stand back and admire the process, every twist of the wrist holding the brush, every smudge of the bristles, you would bask in it. 

well see i’d need to really know you to be biased, so i think we’re safe for now. 

an invitation, you decided as your thumb rubbed down on the round keystroke at the bottom right corner of your phone. as much as you wanted to get to know him, you wanted for him to be open to showing you, words and actions. the small smile on your face as your hand fell to your side was one of pride, something more concrete, more confident. that courage that pushed you beyond your usual limited exchange, always finding you where francisco was concerned. 

it was exhilarating, finding someone who unknowingly made the space for you to take on a daring mantle you would not normally take up. nothing but his warmth, soft and moored presence allowing for you to feel safe in your inching steps forward. not as bold and daring as others would see fit to deem, but it was the personal parameters, your own amazement in your actions, your words that mattered. 

a stray part of you wondered if he had been able to see it, the vibrant stroke you would dare every now and again, and if so, you couldn’t help but to wonder what he thought of it. 

it shocked you, truly, to have your phone go off in your hand amidst your spacing out. throat suddenly dry, swallowing at nothing as that pumping organ in your chest lept, you glanced down at the device. all the mind games you had played with yourself, physically trying to separate from your phone when he replied in a matter of minutes. a quick check at the time told you that if he was at work, it was too early for him to be on his lunch break so it was even more difficult to fight the growing grin. 

ridiculous, really. hiding out in the bathroom during work hours to text a man, but your restraint had left you somewhere down the hallway, perhaps it was clinging to the teeth marks scratched into the pen you had been biting down on before. nevertheless, francisco was enabling you now with his quick responses. 

we can work on that, despite it being counterproductive for me in the end. 

you shook your head, swearing to yourself that you’d leave the bathroom following your reply. it needed to be done, with having accepted that there was no reason to take the man in increments any longer, you had to restructure. you’d find a sweetspot, something where the giddiness did not supersede your central nervous system and where you were not trying to shove it all down into a box, sealed tight and shoved aside to coax on a life of ignorance. 

you could be an adult with a crush. you could be an adult about your crush. god, acknowledging it was a start. a rocky start, one that left you uncertain on where to place your next step. it had been a while, that much was so starkly clear, but having to renavigate old roads in a matured body would take adjusting. 

the first of which would be not hiding in the nearest bathroom each time francisco messaged you. 

counterproductive because you just don’t want to trust me as a source or counterproductive because you don’t want me to realise that you are in fact not an equivalent of an angel? 

blowing out a breath, you pivoted on your feet and unlocked the stall door. you slipped your phone into your pocket as you made your way to wash your hands, blinking eyes staring blankly at your reflection as you reeled from the past fifteen minutes. something within your head having been flipped onto its top, shaken and coaxed into spilling out. 

the next message came as you dried your hands, eyes dipping to the pocket you had stowed your device into. you pulled it out just as you left the bathroom, a huff of amusement muffled between your cheeks as you read the short message from the preview on your lockscreen. 

yes. :) 

the remainder of your hours continued in a similar manner, striking a balance between working and picking up your phone to smile at the received message before replying; unending banter, almost mindless and so thoroughly entertaining that you couldn’t tire from it. and between the continued back and forth, neither of you backing down, were small questions littered in, trickling answers, two conversations happening simultaneously. 

how’s work? 

unbearably quiet. fly around any rich bastards on this fine friday? 

i have a scheduled tour later this afternoon. think of me and my sanity? 

i can’t make any promises. 

a lie, so blatant and laughable because he had taken up the majority of your thoughts with a new vigour with the ongoing exchange of messages. all the organisation of your thoughts and feelings had quickly been put on the backburner when you had left the bathroom hours prior. navigating your crush on the man seemed insignificant when he was offering you so much of his time, the predicament of appearing juvenile finding no grip among the flurry of thoughts swimming with each response you got from him. him checking to make sure he wasn’t being a disruption to your day, him enquiring about your work, him stubbornly keeping to the first tangent of texted conversation. and then, did you have lunch? 

that particular message had come just as you had pulled out your packed lunch, brows raised with a conspiratorial smile as you typed out a quick reply, shaking your head as you rolled your chair closer to the area of your desk you had cleared for your break. 

if anything, francisco had your head on a loop, something like a floating apparition of your usual self as the hours that had stagnated previously in your dismissal of his growing presence now melted away—soft serve ice cream melting down a chubby hand in the heart of summer. you had only realised it when you glanced to the bottom of your monitor towards the end of your shift, shocked to see you had less than 20 minutes left until the official start to your weekend. the second predominant thought being that it also meant that francisco would be preparing for the flight tour he had scheduled. 

something in your chest fluttered, a flickering at the subsequent actions of now keeping track of his schedule, that intimate silky drag across your ribcage with the knowledge, the privy to his day. just like the constant referral back to that pocket of conversation, finding more so throughout your interactions. the two of you were carving out an alcove, something so secretive and personal, your toes wriggled in your shoes. 

it dawned on you as you greeted your deskmate, belongings gathered as you smiled at her, that among the constant back and forth, you had forgotten your initial excuse for giving francisco your number. a promise you had made and were determined to see through, to whatever capacity. 

you had mulled it over in your head in the sleepless hours the night before, hands tucked beneath your pillow. showing your gratitude to the three men felt daunting, every option you thought upon felt too simplistic, too dismissive and yet another part of you did not want to linger on the entire situation too long. you refused to give it any more reign over your mind. so you ping ponged between fleeting tokens, nothing quite feeling right, made even more difficult by the fact that you didn’t know any of them and what they would like. 

but as you got into your car, you came to a decision, made more attainable now that you had an insider, one that had been keeping you company for a great majority of your work day. 

when you picked up your phone then, it was divergent from the hesitance several hours earlier. that conviction found you once again as you opened the message thread, fingers typing it out quickly before you plugged your phone in and selected just the perfect tune to set your smile solid on your face as you pulled out of the parking lot. your friend was sure to see straight through you once she pulled into your driveway, the drastic shift in your mood so polarising that it almost concerned you. you’d figure that out, even better with the second opinion heading your way, always honest and always with your best interest at heart. 

so you brushed it off for the 13 minute drive, instead indulging in that shift of mood, eyes flitting to your suncatcher and your smile spreading wider, a full blown grin. you could be an adult with a crush, and in the quiet, secluded space of your car, you could feel a little bit more like a teenager about your crush. your last message to him embodying the last of that confidence of the adult stored within you for the day.