You're My Favourite Sound

Pale. He was so pale. And don't even get me started on his body. His boney body. He had stubble on his lower face and was in a pair of very worn jeans with a faded Misfits shirt. I'd never seen him like this before and I didn't want to admit it, but he scared me.

I slowly stepped towards the table and sat down quietly opposite him, whispering, "Hi." I was afraid that if I spoke too loudly, he'd crumble beneath my words.

"Hi," Frank said groggily as he looked up at me. I could see the creases at the sides of his red-rimmed eyes whilst he gave me a tired smile. "Thanks for coming," he said further. He looked exhausted.

"What happened?" I asked softly, reaching for his cigarettes and lighter across the table.

Frank took a deep drag on his own and sighed heavily, before replying, "I've been acting like an asshole. I've made Jamia feel like she's ignored, I haven't been straight with her about things, I've just... I've pissed her off so bad, Octy."

"Why do you think you've been doing what you've been doing to make her feel this way?" He sighed again as smoke escaped my question.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I'm going through this weird patch that seems to just put me down all the time, you know?"

"Have you been taking the Prozac?"

Frank nodded, "But apparently it's doing jack shit. I hate being like this with Jamia, it's not fair on her. Our relationship is seriously getting fucked."

I watched him for a second, before asking, "Do you love her?"

He paused. He hesitated. "I-I think so." He paused again, and then shoved his face in his hands, mumbling, "My head is so messed up!"

"Hey," I called gently, leaning over the table and taking his hands away from his face, careful not to get ash on him. "You'll sort this out. You'll be fine, Frank, trust me."

He just stared at me, into my eyes, as I looked back into his. "You think so, huh?"

I sighed lightly, thinking of another way I could comfort him, before placing my half smoked cigarette on the edge of the ashtray in front of us and standing up to route through his cupboards. I noticed his confused look and could feel him watching me as I pulled out a packet of Pot Noodle, vegetable, and pushed the switch on the kettle to start it boiling.

"What are you doing?" Frank finally asked.

I turned to him and replied plainly, "Making you comfort food."

"I-I..." he stammered, "I've eaten." I scowled.

"Stop bullshitting me, Frank. You've given me that same excuse already and you sure as hell don't look asthough you've eaten tonight, or for a while even! When was the last time you ate something?" I could feel myself getting angrier with worry. He simply rubbed his forehead like there was an itch he couldn't get rid of, and once again sighed. "I thought you were over your disorder?" I inquired, and watched as he said nothing whilst stumping out his cigarette. "Frank?" I called, my brow creased, "You're scaring me."

The punk rocker gradually lifted his glazed eyes back up to me and barely whispered, "I'm sorry."

My expression softened and the switch on the kettle behind me went off, announcing the water inside was boiled. I turned around to the counter and poured it into the plastic Pot Noodle cup, before grabbing a fork and putting them both on the table, sliding it in front of Frank. "Eat something... please," I begged.

He stared at the steam coming off of the food in front of him. "It won't make me feel better," he mumbled.

"Mentally, probably not," I agreed, "Physically, yes." He just looked at me again, blankly. I exhaled, "What else do you want me to do?" His expression lit up just a twitch, but I immediately pointed a finger. "I'm not singing."

Frank's face fell again and he gradually started on the Pot Noodle. I watched him with a small smile, now feeling at ease.

"Don't go running to the bathroom after you've finished that, okay?" I joked after a while, and received that smirk of his. Finally. I was worried he'd lost it. "If you wanna sort this shit out, firstly, you've gotta be less secretive. Stop bottling your feelings up because it's not good for you, it's not good for anyone."

He swallowed a mouthful and started with a frown, "I just wish..." But then he stopped.

"You wish what?" I asked. He stayed frozen, like a statue, eyes glued to the table surface. "Frank?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he murmured and went back to eating.

"What did I just say?" I demanded, causing him to stop again. "Frank, please stop keeping things from me."

Frank finished the last of his food, placed the fork inside the empty plastic cup and almost slammed it back down on the table, before his eyes flicked to me. "You really wanna know what I wish?"

"Yes, I do," I nodded.

"You won't like it," he warned.

"I don't care," I told him.

So he said, "I just wish I'd taken you back to New Jersey with me..."

There. That was it. I shut up.

"Alright?" he continued, standing from the table, "Make you feel better, does it?"

I watched him turn his back and walk out of the room. This is what I was afraid of. I always knew since Frank had come back to LA that if he'd ever say something like that to me I'd want him to, which was bad. Very, very bad.

But it was what I wanted to hear.

It killed me to admit it, but this was the truth that was eating away at me.

I got up and followed after him, pacing down the hallway to the bedroom, where I found him lying with his back to me on top of the bed. I slowly made my way over and laid down behind him on the bed he shared with Jamia, where he turned over and faced me. Our eyes locked and we took in the sounds of each other's breathing. We stayed like that for what seemed hours, but was only a matter of minutes.

"What are you thinking?" Frank asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed and felt my eyes sting.

"I didn't know much of Snow Patrol three years ago..." I began, whispering in return because I couldn't seem to find my voice, "But the first time I heard that song, it made me think of you..." I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't. "I wished you would open your eyes and see what you had in front of you... See the love I could have given you."

A couple shorter strands of my hair slipped out of its ponytail, falling in my face, and Frank carefully tucked them behind my ear. I then felt myself being pulled against him as he wrapped his tattooed arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head as I snuggled my face into his chest. I let my sense of smell wander. He smelled of Frank, and Frank smelled like home.

"Sing it for me," he said gently. I exhaled and shook my head against him. "Please, baby?"

I continued to protest, but no matter how much I did, he wouldn't quit and kept pushing me. He really wanted to hear it and I finally gave in, knowing how cringeworthy this was going to be.

"All this feels strange and untrue, and I won't waste a minute without you..." I began softly into his Mifits shirt, my eyes shut tight. "My bones ache, my skin feels cold, and I'm getting so tired and so old..."

I could feel him twisting my ponytail between his fingers delicately, sending goosebumps down my spine.

"The anger swells in my guts, and I won't feel these slices and cuts..."

Frank stopped playing with my hair and used his finger to lift up my chin so I'd look at him. He was looking back at me, looking at me differently from the way he’d looked at me before, and it caused my heart to race and my breathing to quicken.

"I want so much to open your eyes 'cause I need you to look into mine..." My voice was shaking now, I was mesmerised as I stared straight into his eyes. "Tell me that you'll open your-"

I got cut off. By his lips. His lips on mine. They were warm and sweet, and that was the last thing I could remember before I melted against him, showing him my real feelings. How I'd felt since the moment I saw him, how I felt secretly in the bottom of my heart where no one would ever know. I showed him what I was absolutely terrified about feeling.

It brought me back to our other kiss, the only other kiss we'd ever had, when I was just seventeen. I remember it being better than any drug I had ever experienced in my life, and it still felt that way.

The force of my lightheadedness made me feel asthough this wasn't real at all, like I wasn't even here...

I shouldn't be here.

I shouldn't be doing this. I should be at home with my fiance and my parents discussing the wedding I was having this summer.

I mean, I'd still have to go through with it, right?

I broke away from Frank and pulled myself free from his embrace. I hurriedly jumped up from the bed and walked out of the room, out of the hall, and out of the apartment without saying a word.