Blush.

Part 2.

“Frank, wake up,” I whispered, shaking him slightly. It was four in the morning when I woke up to the noise of the front door of the apartment slamming. Quinn didn’t stir at all, but I did. It woke me up straight away.

He was sprawled across the couch with one of the beanbags stretched across his stomach, leaving just his head and calves visible. I had to admit, I chuckled at the sight when I first walked in.

I removed the beanbag and a pungent smell surrounded me. The scent snaked up into my nostrils, filling my lungs and clouding my head. It took me a moment to figure out what it was and when I did I was horrified. Frank had been drinking.

It was still a month or two until his twenty-first birthday so I knew he must have gotten someone else to buy the alcohol for him. I sighed and began shaking Frank again.

One of his eyes slid open, lazily and he smiled drunkenly up at me.

“Heyyy, Guhrawrd. Youuu stilluh go-en owt wiff Mickey?” he slurred, some of his words almost unintelligible.

“Frank. Come on,” I soothed, ignoring him and helping him to stand. It wasn’t working so I ended up just picking him up bridal style. “How are you feeling?”

“Whhhhywould youuuuucar fucckah?” he replied, his attempt at being angry being betrayed by the sloppy grin on his face.

“No need for that now,” I grunted, trying to get down the hall without dropping him. We made it half way to my room before I realised how pale he suddenly was.

“Jesus,” I breathed, now turning back towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to be sick,” Frank gasped, his words suddenly coming clear. I was tempted to say ‘no shit, Sherlock’ but I didn’t.

Once in the bathroom, I put Frank down and then he finally lost the contents of his stomach. He almost got to the toilet but ended up getting half in and half out, with puke all over the toilet seat, bowl, floor and walls.

I started gagging.

Frank, sitting in puke, continued to empty his stomach into the toilet for ten minutes. Most of which I stood at the door, hand over my mouth, gagging. When he seemed to stop, I tentatively walked through the puke on the floor and helped him up. It took a lot of willpower to not turn around and run out of the room.

He reeked of vomit and that was enough to make me feel sick. But I continued to lead him down the hallway to my room.

“Frank, go and sit on my bed,” I murmured. He nodded and stumbled over to my bed, flopping down and groaning.

I fished through piles of clothes on the floor and searched for something for Frank to wear. I found an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers that I thought were clean. I threw them over to Frank and told him to get changed while I washed my feet off.

“What about the puke?” he asked softly, sounding a lot more sober than he was a half hour ago.

“I’ll clean it up in the morning,” I replied, in the same tone.

After I finished washing my feet, I walked into the kitchen and fetched some paracetamol and a drink bottle, filling it with water. Back in my room Frank was changed and sitting on the floor, leaning up against the side of my bed.

He watched me as I placed the drink bottle and tablets on my bedside table and began getting the bed ready for us to sleep in. It would be a tight fit again, but we’d manage.

“You gonna get in or what?” I asked quietly, gesturing towards the bed.

“I can and sleep my own bed,” he replied, missing a few words from his sentence.

“You and I both know Quinn’s a light sleeper.”

He didn’t reply. I waited for him to move and when he did I was a little shocked, but glad that he was listening. Burrowing under the covers, he watched me intently when I shook my ugg boots off. Lying down beside him, under the covers, I could feel his body heat radiating off him and warming my own skin. His arms slid around me and pulled me to him; the gesture caught me off guard and surprised me.

“What are you doing?” I whispered softly, although I was already snuggling into him.

“You said last time that you liked being hugged,” he replied after a moment, obviously fighting to stay awake. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks,” I murmured, into his chest. Frank was small but his body seemed to be able to embrace mine as I fit there.

*

Waking up in Frank’s arms was one of the best ways to wake up to. Until I remembered what happened between us last night and the faint trace of puke filled my nostrils. But it was still nice while it lasted. I didn’t move, savouring the feeling of Frank’s arms wound tightly around my waist.

The soft rise and fall of his chest was calming, rhythmic. It would’ve been near perfect if he didn’t smell like puke and alcohol. If last night I hadn’t told him about me going to see Mikeytomorrow tonight.

I almost wish that Frank and I had met differently, under different circumstances. But I knew that life didn’t work that way; it never did. Life was tough, not always turning out how you want it too. You have to make the best with what you have, and that’s what I was being forced to do.

Making the best of my broken relationship with Mikey. Making the best of the life I had here with Frank and Quinn, my only family. If somewhat dysfunctional. It’s different for others though, I suppose that if their perfection is just out of reach then they can go after it, no matter how impossible it seems.

My perfection is so out of reach that I doubt I could even see it, if that makes sense.

My perfection includes all of us happy. Me not having to convince myself and others that I don’t have feelings for the man whose arms are around me; even I can hear the lie in my voice. My family and I being on talking terms at least. Quinn happy and with his family. You know? That kind of stuff.

“You awake?”

My head shot up to see Frank looking down at me. “Yeah,” I replied, smiling, “How long have you been awake for?”

“A while. Thank you for the painkillers and water. And for last night too,” he said softly, smiling back at me. My smile disappeared.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about this now but why were you upset? And why did you go and drink?” I asked, trying to keep the accusatory coldness out of my voice.

He flinched, “I’m sorry. Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? Just know that I didn’t mean any of it.”

I sat up and his arms loosened and he pulled them back. “It does too matter, Frank. Now tell me.”

“Gerard, it doesn’t. I was just tired.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“You’re being evasive. Tell me or I’ll tell Quinn exactly what happened last night. You know how happy he’ll be if he finds out.”

“You’re an asshole,” he laughed, nervously. He paused for a moment and looked at me. “Wait, you’re serious aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Now tell me what I want to know,” I replied, completely exasperated.

“Fine. It’s just…I’m just worried, I guess. I’m just scared that if you spend too much time around Mikey that he’s going to turn you against me and then you’ll want to go back,” he finally explained, not meeting my eyes.

“Frank, Mikey is the only one out of my whole family who still speaks to me. I couldn’t go back even if I wanted too, which I don’t.”

He finally met my eyes and when I looked into them, there was no mistaking the sadness in them.

“I’m just waiting for the day when you realise that it’s my fault that they won’t see or speak to you.”

“Frank, that’s never going to happen,” I snapped, annoyed that he still thought it was his fault. “It was my choice. If I didn’t want to leave with you, I wouldn’t have.”

“It’s just…Quinn and I can’t lose you. But for some reason that’s exactly how I’m feeling; like we’re losing you,” he replied, that same sadness still there. I didn’t know what to say. I knew that they weren’t losing me but I didn’t know how to make Frank see or understand that.

I settled for the only way I knew how to comfort him. I threw my arms around him and held him close. His arms slid around my waist and he pulled me closer, so that I could hardly breathe. Not that I cared much. I was on his lap, our chests pressed against each other’s, my head buried in his neck.

“Can you make me a promise?” I whispered, feeling the shivers that went through his body when my breath hit his neck.

“Yeah?” he whispered back, still holding onto me tight as ever.

“Never let me go.”