Battling the Loss You Live For.

Sazzy’s Point of View
I woke up with a banging headache.
Frank was right.
I really didn’t want to admit it, but that was all that rang out through my aching mind when I awoke. I turned my head, seeing Frank sleeping soundlessly next to me, one arm cradling his head, the other draped loosely around my waist. I rolled onto my side, facing him.
He’s worth what you’ve done. He’s worth the bond you broke.
I nodded to myself, agreeing with my thoughts. He was worth it, and I was right, in a way – I couldn’t pretend anymore. I love him, and if my Mother wants me to be happy, why isn’t she accepting our relationship? She always saw him as a son, always treated him nicely. So why is she being two-faced? I just didn’t understand it.
“Sazzy!”
I blinked, seeing Frank with a worried yet amused expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes softly with his hand. I blinked again, shaking my head.
“Nothing… why?”
“You were just looking at me, but you were out of it. Your eyes were glazed over and everything,” he said, a small smile etching its way onto his lips, fighting a grin.
His features changed quickly, his lips pulling into a frown as his eyebrows furrowed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like… shit,” I admitted, sighing a little. He pulled me into him, his arms twisting around me into a hug, and I buried my head into his collarbone, blinking back the tears and fighting the small lump in my throat.
“I can’t believe how two-faced she is,” I mumbled, as I felt his chest move as he breathed, in and out.
“How do you mean?” he asked softly, rubbing my back slowly.
“How she treated you all nice before and all, then she suddenly thinks you’re the devils’ son when I tell her about us,” I clarified, not moving away from the comfort of his chest.

I stayed in my room all day.
I had washed up in the morning, but just dressed in some sweats because I really could not be fucked with anything at all. I just felt like shit on a stick.
“Sazzy?”
I looked up from the window, my eyes darting to the door across the room. I was sat on the windowsill, my knees tucked under my chin, smoking a cigarette with the window open wide. Hearing Frank’s voice from the other side of the door wasn’t exactly rare – he’d knock every half hour, the same worry and demise etched into his tone.
“Sazzy, please, just eat something at least… can I come in?”
It was the first time he’d ask to come in, so I was a little shocked. I didn’t answer, but after a few seconds, he pushed the door open, making it creak. He sat opposite me, watching as I flicked the butt of my Marlboro Red out the window.
“Please talk to me, sugar,” he whispered, placing his hand on mine, which was resting on my lower leg.
“What do you want me to say?” I croaked, not making eye contact. I didn’t want to see his eyes, anxious and shattered.
“That you’re okay?”
“Well… I’m okay.”
“…And mean it?”
I sighed, looking up at him. Like I thought, his eyes did show anxiousness, and were broken. It made my heart plummet.
“Frankie…” I whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. His eyes closed at the touch, a sigh emitting from his lips. I moved away, shuffling back into my corner of the windowsill. He eyed me, worried.
“Please just come down? Everyone is worried about you, babe. And you haven’t eaten all day.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Please.”
My eyes widened, flying to him as I gasped, my watery eyes locked onto his, tears threatening to fall from our eyes. I let him twist his fingers around mine, pulling me up gently along with him, his arms winding around me, pulling me against his chest.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“That voice kills me inside,” I mumbled against him, my hands resting on the back of his neck. He didn’t reply, but instead pulled away from our embrace, linking our hands together again, leading me out of the room and down the stairs.
The next thing I know, I was sat at the table in the kitchen, a plate of hot, tomato pasta in front of me, Frank sitting next to me, his hand still entwined with mine. I looked over at Frank, who gave me a pleading look, and I sighed, picking up the fork and started on my pasta. Frank leant over, kissing my cheek as he stood up, walking over to the counter and grabbing a carton of cigarettes.