You Couldn't Hate Enough To Love

As Frank arrived in at his now- new apartment, he didn't take his time to look properly around. He had been there thousands of times before, when he had been slowly moving his stuff from his old apartment, to this one.

So he did the only natural thing that he could think about when it came too moving into a new place: He decided to pay his local bars a visit. Wanting to get familiar to the places he would use allot of his spare time.

His drive to New York had taken approximately two hours, he would normally cut of around twenty minutes, but because he had began his journey in the middle of rush hour, where people would come home from work. He had immediately gotten stuck in a long ass queue. So when he finally arrived, it was around seven, and even though it was pretty early to get drunk, the bars did get filled. And that was especially on Friday nights.

---

Frank had gotten allot of shit straighten out at his last couple of days in New York. He had gotten a job, thanks to his new boss, and old friend: Matty, who owed frank some stuff. Needless to say, he gladly offered Frank the job the moment he heard about him moving. The job itself was simply, it consumed off Frank, sitting behind a counter, and selling people the thing that he was most passionate about in the whole world: music.

Frank, being the self-conscious bastard that he was, didn't want to look like one of those persons who desperately needed to get wasted every fucking hour. So he would switch to new bars every night, his excuse was that he wanted to know the city more, and therefor switch around, allot.
He was currently located in the middle of the city. Where, he wasn't sure about, but it looked like one of the more fancier places. But it didn't mater as long as the quality of the alcohol didn't change.

But that wasn't the exact reason for why he switched around so much. Frank was weird, he thought that people might stalk him. Like, if they saw him sitting alone, they would approach him. Not wanting anything more then to drown Frank into a deeper slumber of alcohol, until they got him just where they wanted him, at their place, in a motel, in a forest, someone's van, or just fucking anywhere, they didn't care.

That had happened a couple of times in Jersey, it wasn't like Frank regretted it. But sometimes, he only wanted to get wasted. And that was what he intended to do. That were the reason for why he'd gone out alone, and he just wanted to be left the fuck alone. So if he wanted hock-ups, he had his contacts for being involved in that environment for way to fucking long. But now that he had moved, and his 'friends' was far away.
He wasn't to keen too get into his old habits yet.

And right now, Frank drank only to get drunk, he wanted to drink so he could forget about everything that had happened the last couple of months. He mostly wanted to forget everything, and not to wake up in a stranger's bed, fucked in more ways then the hungover would offer him.

That's why Frank always went to different bars, making sure people didn't pay any attention to him, so he never went back to the same bar until some time passed.

Frank was paranoid, and way to used about the fact that strangers wanted him before looking twice. He was blessed with this curse where Frank was just a person who screamed out "fuck me", and when he had no interest in exactly that, Frank hated this curse. Because he couldn't focus on the one thing he wanted, to get drunk, and wake up in his own puke.

Frank took his last sip of, whatever-the-fuck-he-was-drinking, and got up.

The alcohol hadn't gotten time to really enter Frank's system yet. He could in no way be qualified as lightweighted. But he always made sure that by the time he got home, he would be fully drunk. He didn't need to be drunk at the second, what mattered was that he eventually would get drunk.

Frank always drank like this, drinking just what he needed and then gradually go from tipsy, to drunk. He didn't enjoy strong drinks to much though, he also didn't like the drinks that burned at the back of his throat. He preferred the girly drinks, being the gay man that he was. So he only drank enough to making him tipsy, so the drive home would be allot easier, and when he finally got home, he would be fully drunk.

As Frank got to the parking lot, he noticed something was missing. It took some time before his half-drunken mind finally realized what it was:

His car was gone.

Someone, probably a drunk fucker: Had stolen his car.

The unbelievable had happen. And with that, Frank started to laugh, and that was, really laugh, a laugh that made his stomach hurt because of the lack of air. He hadn't laughed at ages, not since Mikey died, witch was, right now, fucking ages ago.

Frank's girlish giggles filled the air, and if anyone passed by, they would probably think that he was laughing at nothing, like most drunken dudes did. But this wasn't nothing, Frank found this generally amusing, not only had someone actually stolen that piece of shit. But he felt so much gratitude that his parents had actually managed to convince him to insure it.

"What are you so damn cheerful for?" The empty night that was consuming Frank's laughter was broken by another, unfamiliar voice.

Frank spun around to meet the eyes of the guy that had spoken, he was barely noticeably, standing in the shadows, only wearing black.

His pale skin was being reflected from the moonlight, making his hazel, tired, eyes shine. He was clearly tired, having huge bags around his eyes that clearly could be avoided if the guy would get rid of his hungover state, he obviously was trying to ignoring it, with even more alcohol. A good night sleep would probably do some good for this man, too. It looked like he was punishing himself though, like he didn't deserve to rest.

The guy was holding a half full bottle of vodka, the other hand was busying itself, trying, and failing to light a smoke with one hand. He had probably gone out for a smoke break, even though it was allowed to smoke inside the bar, well, not really, but no one actually gave a fuck about it.

Since the guy looked like he was in hell, and was an never ending prisoner in it. Frank felt bad for the guy. Frank might have a good reason to drink, but this guy looked like he would break down and cry if someone took his precious bottle away from him.

He was actually extremely handsome, if you looked away from his drunken state. His suite must been from a fancy brand, even though his blazer was buttoned up, and having his red tie loose around his neck. His jet black hair, that must have been brushed back earlier that day, was completely ruined by him messing it up countless times by running his fingers through it all day, but yet, it still stayed stylish and it surprisingly suited him. But even with his handsome looks, he really, honestly looked like he had been through allot of shit the last couple of days.

"My car is stolen" Frank answered with a grin on his face. He had been too caught up with this mesmerizing guy, that Frank had totally forgotten that he actually had asked him a question, so it took him sometime before he eventually answered. He still found the whole, stolen car thing, hilarious. Even though he had been interrupted.

The nameless guy raised an eyebrow at Frank's merry mood, but he didn't question it. He simply nodded, coming to the conclusion that it was something a drunk person would find entertaining, and then, the next day, panic.

And then the guy simply turned his back to Frank, and walked back into the bar. Leaving his untouched smoke on the ground.

All of Frank's cheerfulness fell when the guy left, making him kinda speechless. Never had anyone turned his back to Frank before. He was used to get what he wanted from strangers. Frank obviously needed a way to get his ass back home. And then this guy comes, a guy that was simply being an ass, he obviously didn't care about others when they were having a problem, but the guy actually looked like he never cared about anyone. Ever.

"Asshole" Frank mumbled as he looked at where his car had been parked just a couple of hours ago. And for the first time, he actually missed that thing.

His problem though, was that Frank didn't know enough people in New York yet. He also hadn't bothered to get around too buy himself a new phone. So he had in no way any possibilities to call a cab, or the few people who he'd actually gotten to know. There was his landlord, James, who actually were pretty cool, but he definitely did not fancy calling asking him for a favor just when he had moved in. And there was Matty. Calling Matty is something that he, absolutely, in no way what so ever, call up and ask for a favor. They've just gotten even, so Frank definitely did not want to switch tables. Even though the favor itself was a small one, and Matty wouldn't actually mind to help Frank out. But just to stay at the safe side, Frank didn't dare to call him up. Not just yet.

Both of these people were the only people in town that he knew, both of them were connected with business, so they had to stay in touch anyways. But then again, Frank couldn't contact them anyways. Making another mental note to buy himself a new phone as soon as he woke up the next morning.

Slowly, Frank felt the alcohol starting to affect him, making it harder for him too think clearly.

Frank was pissed, pissed at that guy, pissed at the people who took his car, pissed at his car for getting stolen, and pissed because he obviously needed a way home, in a town where he clearly did not know anyone, or anything.