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

Frank hasn’t really been around someone new in a long while. He doesn’t really like going out and meeting new people. He’s content where he is, with a few close friends, and a crush on his roommate.

Maybe he just has a certain soft spot for the guy who quite literally saved his life, or maybe it’s because Aaron is quite possibly the sweetest person he’s met in years, but he almost forgets about his dislike for meeting new people.

“So do you make it a habit of walking into traffic?” he asks.

“Well not usually. Or well, I may not be the most cautious guy in the world, but I’m pretty fuzzy in the head today. I caught some virus or something, so I’m just sleepy and not entirely here today,” Frank replies.

“You seem okay to me,” Aaron says.

“Well I’m trying right now, I wasn’t really when I stepped in front of that car. I got sent home because my boss told me I was a danger to others and myself. Turns out he was right.”

“You’d have been better if you hadn’t been sent home,” Aaron says, and Frank follows behind him, because he seems to know where he’s going. He’s headed near the place where Frank works, but there’s a coffee shop a block past that so he just assumes that’s their destination. He doesn’t really care, he’s kind of lost in Aaron’s voice and face. Frank decides that Aaron looks like Derek from criminal minds, though he’s got brighter and more piercing eyes.

“Probably not actually,” Frank says, “because than I wouldn’t have met you so I’d have been run over by some other car. I’m not really a klutz, but irony is a bitch.”

Frank’s nervous about the first part of that sentence, because he just admitted to being glad he met Aaron, and he’s awkward. Now he’s blushing and hoping that he looks like he’s cold, because he doesn’t want a virtual stranger to think he’s embarrassed.

“You have a lot of faith in yourself,” Aaron says sarcastically.

“I may be a cynic, but I have seen enough of the world to know that everything is played out through the mind of one who’s much more cynical than myself.”

“And quite the optimist,” he says.

“I’ll have you know, when you have a life where everything always comes up short, it’s quite difficult to be an optimist,” Frank says.

They turn a corner and he sees his diner and points to it, “See, I work there. Like, the worst job, because I always thought that when I was an adult I’d have a cool job. I thought I’d be a superhero or in a band, or doing something, but no, instead, I’m a minimum wage slave to capitalism.”

“Then how about I buy the coffee?” Aaron says, and Frank shakes his head.

“No, because it’s supposed to be my ‘shut up and stop saying thanks to the kind stranger’ gift to you, but if you buy it than it’s ‘hey look the kind stranger just so happens to be a saint, and I really need to reconsider my life decisions,’” Frank says.

“Well, but you made such a point to say that you’re unlucky in your occupation,” he says.

“I may be that, but I can afford a coffee,” Frank says, “as long as it’s not one of those fancy-shmancy ones with twelve different add-ins.”

“You just spoiled all the fun!” Aaron laughs.

“Did I? You are very picky, sir,” Frank replies, and he nearly makes a wrong turn. Honestly you’d think he’s never been here before, but he has taken this exact route for years.

“I’m not picky, you’re easy to tease,” he says.

“Damn, and I try so hard to be threatening, though I am tiny, so it really doesn’t come across. I just look like one of those TV character tropes where the little guy’s nickname is something that makes him seem like a giant wrestler. I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Though, really, if I were in a comedy or movie, they’d probably introduce me as Dr. Manhattan, and then I’d come onto the screen and I’d be a fucking Smurf. I really should learn to stop talking, sorry.”

Aaron laughs and looks at Frank. He’s really not that much taller than him in Frank’s eyes, because he’s fairly used to looking up at people. It gets repetitive, and it’s kind of annoying to stand next to women in heels who dwarf him.

“So what do you do, Mr. expensive shoes?” Frank asks, and then realizes it’s probably not polite to make fun of the footwear of a guy he’s only just met. It’s too late now though.

“That’s a rather specific nickname,” Aaron says.

“Oh, don’t mind me, just call me Clumsy Smurf,” Frank replies.

“I prefer Frank,” he says, and Frank likes the way his own name sounds with that accent. “But anyway, I’m just, like, a person who works at a big company.”

“Yeah, probably the owner of a big company,” Frank says and he wants to hit himself because he’s being ruder than he really wanted to be, “fucking hell, I’m really bitchy today, but I don’t mean to be. It’s just that, you’re whole outfit is probably more than a week’s salary for me.”

Aaron looks down as if he hadn’t realized what he was wearing was fancy, and he shrugs, “this is just what I wear. Sorry.”

“Nah, I’m not judging you,” Frank says, “The accent really completes the look though. You look like a rich CEO, and it’s a good look.”

Frank is really tempted to just go step in front of another car, because he doesn’t have a filter today. He essentially just flirted with a guy who’s probably worth millions. He doesn’t like to judge people in that way, but the guy could easily be loaded, and it wouldn’t surprise Frank. He’s just got this aura to him where he comes across as a button-down executive of a huge company, and either Frank’s really judging him, or he’s dead on.

“You’re pretty close,” he says, “though I hate to think of myself that way.”

“Hey, I’m not stereotyping, well I am, but I’m not saying you’re a bad dude. Any guy who saves my life is alright in my books, especially the well-dressed French guy.”

“Canadian guy.”

“Oh so he’s Canadian!” Frank says, and he almost doesn’t process that they step into the Starbucks. He’s only clued in when he smells coffee beans, and it’s quite nice. That smell might get tiring after a while, but Frank enjoys it.

“Why? Is that surprising?” Aaron asks.

“I guess not. Canada is just like a more polite version of France, right? I’m not good with Geography. I thought that Denmark was the capital of North Dakota for like twenty years.”

“Are you serious?” He asks through a laugh.

“Well I may have embellished the stupidity a little bit, but I didn’t do too well in Social Studies when I was younger. Nor math. English wasn’t my strong point either. I was really good at lunch, and a boss at getting detention.”

“You’re actually quite amusing, Frank,” He says.

“Really? You glad you saved me?” Frank asks, grinning widely. He was pretty sure he was coming off as a dick, and he’s glad that he didn’t do that bad.

Frank’s mind muddles together again, as he tries to figure out how money works, but luckily he doesn’t do too badly. It takes him a minute longer than it probably should, but he buys himself and Aaron a coffee. He doesn’t really feel like he’s paid the guy back yet, because Aaron did save his life.

“God, I feel like this is such a tiny thing, because you gave me my fucking life, and all I give you is some liquefied seeds,” Frank says.

“Well at least you know where coffee comes from, so you can’t have done that horribly in school,” he says.

“You should see my ninth grade report card,” Frank jokes, “one of my teachers wrote that I was going to end up a stripper. I guess I’ve got the hips for it, but I didn’t know a teacher could even say that!”

Frank honestly doesn’t want to have to say goodbye to Aaron, because, he’s literally the sweetest human in all of humanity other than Gerard. He checks his watch though and apologizes to Frank that he really has to be heading out. Frank frowns, and tries to hold himself back from saying thank you a few dozen more times, but it’s hard and he says it again.

Maybe Frank’s just caught up on the fact that Aaron saved his life, but he really likes the guy. He doesn’t understand why, but he does, and he’s tempted to ask him for his number, but he decides that it would be weird. What are the chances that the sexy, dapper, polite, wealthy businessman is into dudes? Fate isn’t that kind.

Frank walks back to the apartment, much more carefully than he would have otherwise, and he can’t stop smiling. It’s actually kind of ridiculous, because it looks like someone sewed his mouth open, and he’s trying not to look like a complete idiot.

He enters his apartment and finds Gerard and Patrick watching an infomercial.

“Why the fuck are you two learning about the wonders of anti-aging cream?” Frank asks. He checks the time on his phone and sees that it’s nearly three.

“Gerard lost the remote,” Patrick says without turning.

“There’s buttons on the TV, you know,” Frank says.

“Are you suggesting that we stand up, walk across the room, and then manually press the buttons?” Gerard asks exasperatedly, “What year do you think this is? 1782?”

“Yeah, because TV’s existed during the revolutionary war.”

Gerard turns to give Frank a look, but then sees him smiling, and his eyebrows furrow together.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, and Patrick turns to look at him too.

“What? Oh, nothing. I almost got hit by a car today,” Frank says, pulling his jacket off.

Patrick and Gerard look at each other like they’re worried about Frank’s mental stability, and Patrick says, “yeah, because I’d be happy about that too.”

“Right!” Frank says, walking over to his room, and closing the door.

Gerard makes a face and yells to him through the door, “Are you going to explain to us what’s so good about nearly dying?”

Frank pops his head out of the door, and he’s still smiling, “I met a guy!”

He closes the door again, and the two men on the couch exchange another look, then Patrick says, “Are you going to explain to us how that has anything to do with your close call with being road kill?”

Frank’s head pops out again and he says, “Because this guy saved me from stepping out into the road, and he was really great.”

Patrick blinks in disbelief, because he’s fairly sure that he’s sitting right next to the guy that Frank’s in love with, but he’s gushing about someone else.

“Are you serious?” Gerard asks. Frank doesn’t respond immediately, and almost a minute passes. Frank leaves his room after a while with a different cleaner shirt, and then goes to sit on the armrest of the couch.

“Yes I am. And he was Fre- well he was Canadian, but he was French, and he was gorgeous.”

Patrick gives Frank this look, and inconspicuously mouths to him the word, ‘Gerard?’ Frank rolls his eyes, and shakes his head.

“Well anyway, I bought him coffee, and he’s really great.”

“Did you get his number?” Gerard asks, looking excited for Frank.

Frank’s face falls and he sighs, “No. I didn’t know if I should ask for it, but by the time he left, it was too late.”

Gerard groans, “Frank! How can you have met a guy and not even gotten his fucking number!”

“I’m sorry,” he replies defensively, “I can’t change it now, can I? Besides, he was way too good-looking to be gay anyway. He was just this nice guy on the street, that’s all.”

“But look at you, all smiley and happy about him!” Gerard says. “What’s his name?”

“Aaron.”

“Last name?”

“No idea,” Frank says.

“Fucking hell, Frank,” Gerard says.

“I’m sorry. Look, it was just a nice, pleasant, random experience, which I’m going to dwell on. I mean, it’s not that big a deal. It’s not like he was my soul mate or anything like that.”

“How do you know he wasn’t?” Gerard asks.

“Frank!” Patrick says, “Seriously?”

“It’s fine, I’m not as torn up as you two are,” Frank says.

“Yeah, but you should be,” Patrick says, “God, it’s like you’re not even trying.”

“Oh god, it’s not that big of a deal!”

“Okay Frank, this is you after one meeting. You can’t stop smiling, and you have spent how much time with the guy? Like, thirty minutes or so? This is your reaction to half an hour. What if you spend more time with him?” Gerard says, “You’d probably create enough solar energy from the white of your teeth to power all of Africa!”

“He’s right,” Patrick says, and then silently he adds with his eyes, ‘plus you could get over Gerard.’ Frank shakes his head at the look in Patrick’s eyes, and he stands up.

“I don’t care about wrinkles, we should watch something else,” Frank says, as he walks over to the TV.

“You can change the subject all you want, Frank. You know you could have done more, and that’s fact,” Gerard says with a tisk.