I Didn't Mean to Fall in Love (But I Did)

Unfortunately for Frank, he has to work on Monday. Sunday had been a hellish combination of fever dreams and snot, and Monday is shaping up to be a miserable day of being yelled at by customers. Yes, the customer is always right, but if you think for one second that Frank is afraid of spitting in your coffee than you’ve got another thing coming to you.

He really shouldn’t be complaining. He does have really good hours. Somehow Frank lucked out and almost never has to work on weekends, which is fantastic. He does have to get up at five in the morning four days out of the week though, but at least he does have the weekend. Frank has an early shift, which ends right before the dinner rush, but when you work at a diner, it’s the breakfast rush that really kills you. Usually you get disgruntled people who do not work well without caffeine.

Frank just turns his back and wishes one particular messy looking guy an awful day. It’s no one’s fault but his own that he’s going to have whatever cold Frank caught. You don’t yell at the guy getting your coffee, if you don’t want to be treated like shit. Frank doesn’t have remorse, he’s not in a good mood.

Usually it’s the really rude people that Frank disregards, but he’s especially irritable today so he does have to take some of the blame. It’s not his fault that his sinuses are blocked and he burned himself on the coffee pot this morning. The second one actually is his fault, but he’s kind of dizzy. He misjudged the distance between his hand and the pot.

Frank gets off early because he is apparently a ‘hazard to everyone around him’ and also ‘looks like he slept on the underside of a truck.’ Frank doesn’t argue, he just clocks out and runs out of the building before his boss can reconsider. Really though, he’s a bad enough waiter as it is, he was likely to serve a shoe or something if his fatigue persisted.

Frank’s not really looking where he’s going as he gets away from the small diner. He just knows that he wants to be far away from it, and that’s good enough for his feet to take him there. The ground is slippery given the weather, but Frank is indifferent to it.

It’s a wonder Frank doesn’t cause more accidents with the way he behaves on the street. He just doesn’t look, so you’d think he’d have been involved in a few, but the fact is that he never has. He doesn’t expect to ever be in the way though, so he just doesn’t remember to even look both ways sometimes. He’ll look one way, and if the road is clear he goes. Frank’s a walking hazard to anyone with a large automobile. Or anyone without a large automobile. He’s a hazard to basically everyone with a pulse.

So it’s no surprise that Frank very nearly steps into oncoming traffic, especially considering the fact that his senses are already dulled from being sick. It’s really pretty amazing that he doesn’t step into oncoming traffic more often. Statistically he really should have been run over a few dozen times by now. Frank’s pretty lucky though, and he’s escaped death pretty well over the years.

Today is different. He almost steps in front of a car, and he nearly dies, because this time, Frank didn’t step in front of a car that slammed on the breaks. He’s a driver’s worst nightmare, he doesn’t have any respect for those in cars, and he thinks of himself as indestructible.

So it’s safe to say that Frank walks right onto the street without thinking about it. He doesn’t see the car only a few yards away from him, and really, he should die right here and now, because he’s a bit of an idiot. He doesn’t see it, and he really should just be run over.

Frank isn’t run over though. Of course he isn’t. He’s too lucky to be run over, though he probably wouldn’t describe it that way if you asked him.

The question now becomes how Frank survived being hit by a car if he didn’t look, and the driver of said car has no time to slam the breaks? The answer of course would be in a third party.

Frank is pulled back onto the sidewalk, like a jolt at his arm, and for a very long moment he’s too miffed to even realize what’s just happened. He sees the car, and feels the wind hit him as it passes only a foot in front of him. He sees the driver flip him the bird, and he can’t figure out why. Then he realizes that he was just right in front of that car. He should be a pancake right now, but he’s not.

Frank looks down at himself to confirm that he is still in one piece. He has no tire tracks on him, he has ten toes, and equally as many fingers. Frank’s brain is working in overtime after taking a long hiatus, and it’s coming up short. How on earth can he be alive?

He distinctly remembers someone’s hand on his elbow pulling him back, with quite a bit of force, and he’s trying to figure out if that was his imagination or not.

“You okay?” A voice asks, and Frank’s fairly sure that he didn’t ask himself that. He’s pretty close to wigging the fuck out at the near death experience, so it’s possible that he asked himself, until he decides that his voice doesn’t sound like that. The voice was male, but that’s about as far as the similarities go. For one thing, Frank is fairly sure that the voice had an accent. European, but not English. Also it was lighter, warmer, and kind of felt syrupy and smooth.

He turns around and finds the owner of said voice. To be honest, Frank kind of just thinks he’s in heaven and he actually got hit by the car. He got hit by the car, and now he’s seeing an angel or something, because he’s dead. It’s so demeaning this way. Hit by a car while he’s got a cold, when really he’d always pictured himself going out with a bang. Well there probably was a bang when his skull cracked on the pavement, but that’s not the kind of death he wanted. He’d imagined something more prestigious.

There’s only one person on the corner of the sidewalk where Frank now stands. There’s a few people on the other side of the street, but this side is pretty clear, and no one is immediately near him apart from the guy.

The man in front of him, isn’t tall, but Frank is short, so relative to Frank he’s a giant. He’s probably average height. He’s taller than Gerard, Frank is sure of that much at least. He knows precisely how tall Gerard is, and he’s embarrassingly good at imagining Gerard stand next to people, and he’ll get the height dead on. It’s kind of sad.

Other than his really unexciting height, the man has got a lot about him that’s fairly extraordinary. For one thing, his face is nice enough for Frank to believe that it belongs to an angel. He’s a mix between gorgeous and really fucking gorgeous. He has dark skin, short black hair, and green-blue eyes that could probably stop traffic by themselves. He’s smartly dressed, with shoes that are quite possibly more expensive than four months of Frank’s rent, and he can’t be much older than Frank.

“Did you just save my life?” Frank stumbles out.

The guy looks at Frank concerned, and Frank starts to realize he really should be dead, and that’s probably pretty mind-blowing. After he pinches his leg he’s fairly sure that he didn’t actually get hit by that car. He’d probably be kind of sore if he were, though he has no idea what death is like. He’s not dead which is hard to believe.

“I guess?” the guy replies, and Frank breathes in deeply. It’s kind of hard to rearrange your thoughts after almost dying. His head is spinning and his thoughts are drifting, so he has a hard time concentrating on the guy in front of him. Really though, he’s pretty good looking. A smoldering face, and Frank decides absently that he’s the kind of guy who looks good without a shirt.

“Dude,” Frank says, because he can’t breathe. He needs to lean on something, because he’s started wheezing. Being sick and almost dying do not combine well for his already shitty lungs.

“Are you okay?” the man asks again, and Frank decides he’s French. He sounds French. Frank had never realized how pretty that accent sounds, but it’s nice. It sounds very elegant, and now he’s trying to remember if he’s ever even met someone French. He really doesn’t think so. The French teacher they had at his high School was from Ohio. Frank didn’t even take French, and he’s trying to focus on the situation, because his mind is really drifting again.

Frank has trouble with the whole talking thing so he just repeats, “dude!”

“Seriously, you seem like you’re having some sort of mental break,” the guy says, staring at Frank worriedly.

Frank’s eyes widen and he tries to wave that away, “no, I’m like... freaking out though, man. Like, I almost died. That car would have, like, run me over!”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Thank you!” Frank says, feeling guilty that he forgot to say it already, “Oh man, thank you so much. I would’ve died if you hadn’t been there.”

“You’re welcome, I guess?” he replies, still looking worried about Frank’s mental health.

“God, I feel like an idiot. I just nearly got killed by a car! That’s just, wow. Did I say thanks?”

“Twice,” he says.

“Really?” Frank asks, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, trying not to smile at the flustered Frank in front of him. Frank’s eyes are wide, and he’s fairly fidgety like he’s trying to shake off the fact that he nearly died.

Frank nods, “it’s just a lot to take in. You don’t exactly expect to almost die, and get saved by a stranger. It’s kind of a heavy thing to wrap your head around. But thanks. Fuck, I said that already. Thanks anyway.”

“It’s okay, honestly. I couldn’t exactly watch you get hit by a car could I?” he says.

“Well, given my situation, I’m really glad you didn’t let me get hit by a car, but I see where you’re coming from,” Frank says, “oh god, you think I’m an idiot or something don’t you.”

“No, its fine,” he says, suppressing a laugh at Frank.

“I probably come across as mental or stupid though. I’m really not, ugh, like, I should shut up.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, I think you’re in shock,” he says.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Oh god, I’m wasting your time, aren’t I? You probably have somewhere to be,” Frank says. He hadn’t realized that he’d walked far from the curb, but now he’s standing on the other side of the sidewalk. The guy who just saved his life is more in the middle, only a few feet from Frank.

“It’s not a problem, I have a long lunch break. Don’t worry,” he says.

“Okay. Well, I’m sorry for interrupting your break anyway. I do appreciate the whole life saving thing though, like wow, that’s a pretty nice thing to do.”

He actually does laugh because Frank’s having trouble with words right now, and it’s kind of entertaining.

“Yeah, I’m kind of an idiot,” Frank states, “I’m Frank by the way.”

“Aaron,” the guy says, and now Frank has a name to put to the face of the guy who just saved his life. He’s very pretty. Frank’s getting lost in his own head just thinking about him.

“Wow, so you saved my life,” Frank says, “I honestly cannot thank you enough for that. For my life.”

“It’s fine. You’re okay, I don’t need a grand recognition, it’s okay,” he replies, and Frank tries to remember to attach the name Aaron to his face.

“No really, thank you,” Frank replies, and he’s actually annoying himself with how many times he’s said that. “Can I, like, buy you a coffee or something?”

“If you’ll stop gushing with the thank you’s, then I guess that would be okay,” he says, and Frank blushes.

“I’m sorry. I should shut up,” Frank says, “god, I’m awkward. I don’t mean to be. It’s kind of hard to sort my thoughts out though, like my life just flashed before my eyes, and holy fuck, is it sad that this is one of the most exciting things to happen to me?”

“Almost dying is exciting?”

“Exciting doesn’t have to be a good thing,” Frank shrugs, “anyway, coffee. I’ll buy you a coffee, and try to stop thanking you.”

“I’m not actually that bothered by it,” Aaron says, “it’s kind of sweet.”

“Well I try,” Frank says, and he tries to remember where the hell he was going to go. Coffee. His brain must hate him right now.

Frank shakes his head to try to make the shock go away, and makes an obligatory idiot out of himself when he forget where the fuck he is. He literally works a block away and it’s like he’s never seen the street before.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Frank nods, “yeah. I’m an idiot most of the time.”