Every now and then, you can catch me hanging around the monkey bars at Castlewood Elementary. Except I'm only there on recess duty since I'm the adult in that situation.
Frankie’s hunger for adventure had always been a side-effect of his happy go lucky and outgoing nature. Being outgoing meant meeting people and meeting people meant bonding and bonding meant adventures-- it was a never-ending cycle for him, and he looked forward to every opportunity to broaden his horizons and get to know the world a little better. So when a window of opportunity opened when Felipe’s name popped up on his cell phone screen, Frankie jumped at the invitation to chow down at the new seafood restaurant in town. Always willing to try something once, nothing was off limits to him. Growing up less than half an hour from Oyster Bay back in Long Island, he definitely wasn’t a stranger to seafood, but he’d never graced his taste buds with the flavor of octopus before. The idea thrilled him and he hurriedly got ready to meet up with his buddy at the restaurant.
“What’s up, man?” he greeted Felipe when he spotted him near the entrance, clapping him gently on the shoulder. “Thanks for inviting me here, I’m super stoked about it! You down to grub?”
Aw! See, I knew there was a reason I kept you around for a friend. Even a woman as self-assured as me needs that reminder every now and then. Bless you, Frankie.
Very true, unfortunately. You and I just have to rise above them. Jerk aside, I’ve been great! The fair was a really fun little break from the daily grind.
Where else would you get these friendly reminders from? I’ve always got your back.
I’m glad you got to take some time off to enjoy the fair though. Did you stuff your face full of deep-fried fair foods? I know I did. Did my stomach hate me after? Sure, but it was worth it.
As a small plea to the public, I beg of you to please treat your nurses with the respect they deserve when you’re in the hospital. While we are there to help, assist, and make your stay as comfortable as possible, we are not your maids or servants and I, especially, don’t tolerate being treated as such.
Alright, rant over. I had a particularly rude man be nasty and just horrid to me today, so I had to get that off my chest. How is everyone?
Quick friendly reminder that you’re a superhero who saves lives every single day, and even though it’s sometimes a thankless job, you’re the reason why some people are still living and breathing today!
Sorry people are assholes though. I’m alright though, Lauryn. Aside from this jerk, how’ve you been?
Frankie’s reaction was everything Freddie could have hoped for and more. “Right?? Right?! It’s such a good idea,” Freddie agreed with a laugh before taking another sip of his white claw. “I don’t know, dude, but this totally needs to happen now. It’s way too cool of an idea to not,” he said. At Frankie’s comment about his about Leia, Freddie just continued to shake his head. “Just friends, dude. There’s never been anything between us, you know like we’ve never done anything. Just two really good buds,” he said with a shrug considering people had always questioned their relationship. “Nah, that’s what’s so awesome about it. We don’t get sick of each other,” he said with another smile because he couldn’t help it. “So, come on what about you and Honey?” he poked gently.
“I’ll look into getting a league set up. I’m sure there are tons of people who are gonna wanna join dodgeball and four square.” Frankie finished up the rest of his sandwich in a couple of bites, nodding as he listened to Freddie. Something about it still didn’t convince him that there was nothing between the two, but if there was anything he learned from working with the shy elementary school kids, it was not to push the envelope. “Alright, fair enough.” There was more he’d like to say, something along the lines of, ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,’ but he knew Freddie got it handled. “That’s gotta be a lot of fun. There’s really nothing like working with best friends. You gotta hold on to those kinds of relationships. They last forever.” Frankie smiled at the thought of the girl who made his heart flutter. “Honey, yeah, she’s great,” he beamed from ear to ear. “I don’t know, man. I don’t have much to say about it. I can’t form words sometimes.”
Oh yeah, like something that actually makes sense for the people getting them. Why do I not remember a rubik’s cube in that movie? Oh I remember that part with the alien chicks and the popsicle, but I’m not proud that it’s one of the things I remember. Yeah, I feel like it’d ruin what memories I have, like I’d watch it and then hate it and be like, why did I find this entertaining in my younger days? Oh that’s true, I tried doing that with the show One Day At A Time before Netflix still cancelled it. That’s one thing I am bitter about with them. Assholes anyway. Dude I would love my own cooking show! I don’t really have many secrets, most of what I do I learned either in school or from watching Gordon Ramsay on tv. Alright, well you work on getting the petition set up and I will be the hype girl and post it EVERYWHERE to get signatures.
Some tattoos make no sense, but I can still vibe with them. I saw a girl with a Croc tattoo once. Something about her screamed “CROC” though, so I didn’t question it further. Don’t be ashamed of remembering that scene. If I think hard enough, I could play the entire movie in my head, and I’m definitely not proud of that. Other movies, sure, but not Dude, Where’s My Car. One Day At A Time was such a good show! Schneider was hilarious! If you ever end up getting your own cooking show, I would like an autograph and I’ll cherish it forever. Gordon Ramsay makes me panic sometimes, especially when I watch him on Hell’s Kitchen, but I respect him. Summer, you and I are gonna get Supermarket Sweep back on the air!
I think we just solved the mystery. Or at least have gotten closer to solving it than anyone’s ever gotten before! Yeah, see, I have to make sure absolutely nobody can hear me when I do that. It’s bad. It’s definitely not sing-a-long quality, although thanks for at least trying? I’m not a singer and can barely carry a tune, but it’s fine. So long as I keep it to myself, I’m not assaulting anyone’s ears. He definitely didn’t seem that tall on the show, either that or I’m remembering the cartoon wrong. But I was shocked when I saw how tall he was compared to Tim. It definitely gave me the creeps and I wouldn’t be surprised if he starred in a nightmare or two the next time I watch a way-too-scary movie.
Someone alert the presses, we’ve made progress on an age old question! You can’t be serious though. Like everyone has a good sing-along voice. You know, the kind of voice that sounds good in the midst of a busy bar on karaoke night and someone gets up to sing Sweet Child O’ Mine and the crowd goes wild. I think you’re right though. If I remember correctly, Mr. Mime was only four feet tall, maybe just a tad taller than that, so they definitely stretched that guy’s legs out for the movie to make him more intimidating. Either that or they purposely made him creepy. If he shows up in my nightmares anytime soon, I’m gonna make a vow to never sleep again.
Honey Weston had grown accustomed to waking up alone. As most everyone did, really. Most couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t wake up alone, until the point where they made a commitment with someone, and started waking up to the same face. Or, depending on the person, a different one.
But Honey didn’t bring people home. She didn’t inhabit beds unless they held a promise that up until recently, she wasn’t really ready to make.
And then, she’d fallen into Frankie like a crashing wave, uncontrollably, and without a moment of caution.
Somehow, through that, Frankie had become a shore to return to, rather than a result of her accidental impact. Somehow, these days, waking up alone felt less like a possibility, and more like a self inflicted punishment. Everything was cold, creeping into her skin, and making the empty space she would never be able to take up feel much wider than it was.
Days like these are different, when waking came slowly, and saturated with a warmth that could rival the sun streaming through the blinds, spilling out of the breaks like, ironically, honey.
She’s awake for a few moments before she opens her eyes, mind adjusting to her surroundings, working slowly and almost languidly, as the rest of her senses catch up. They catch the sweet smell of Franklin’s cologne. The slight scratch against the curve of her neck where the even rise and fall of his breath brushes warmth across her skin. Moreso, the hand that is splayed across her back, with an almost saccharine pressure as she is held closely, and tenderly.
Honey had always thought waking up with a man would be scary.
It was a fear full of insecurity, and uncertainty, more than anything. That she may not seem the same in the morning, without make up, or the guard of consciousness. That he may be different, or, really, that he may be gone. It was another world, and she always felt like she didn’t have a chance of catching up to what he might be thinking. It was something she avoided when she could, and rushed when she couldn’t. All of the horror stories were branded in her mind young, all the tips in all those magazines about sneaking out of bed and putting on a full face, or blow drying your hair, or even taking a shower before he could wake up.
But with Frankie, it felt different. The first morning she’d woken up, she’d jumped when she’d seen eyes on her, letting her racing heartbeat still under the soft, assuring hand rubbing her back.
And it felt silly to be scared, of anything, when he looked at her like that. Like she was precious. Like nothing could make him happier than her just being there with him.
She’d always felt wanted, being the youngest, benefiting from all the mistakes her parents had made with Gio, and her other siblings, big, or small. They’d perfected school and disapline to a more crafted routine. But she’d always felt struck with the feeling of being utterly, not enough. It had always been there, regardless of what was done, and she had always thought there might be a part of herself that had fragmented early on, remaining broken even as she grew taller and older.
Just one man wasn’t going to wipe that all away in a few brightly shaded mornings, or with one or two smiles.
But what it did for her, to wake up to a look like that — she’d never really be able to put into words.
When her eyes open, she’s greeted only with the ceiling, lethargic fingers splaying out to find themselves curved in black curls, and absently across Franklin’s shoulder. And it’s nice. It’s so, incredibly nice.
It didn’t seem like the right word, so pedestrian and full of a boring connotation, but that’s just how it felt. Comforting, and sweet, and easy.
Easy as breathing, really.
She shifts minimally, carefully stroking against the black curls as she reaches for a phone she is sure is almost dead, or is close to being dead, where it must’ve fallen from her limp fingertips sometime around midnight. She has a few percents left, enough to check the time and see a few texts, but they don’t keep her attention long as she replaces it back on the bed and settles back, letting all evidence of her fingers get swallowed up by the black of Frankie’s hair.
“Teddy.” She whispers, after a few moments, knowing it was well past the time they’d vaguely planned on getting up. She still would not admit how much having a plan with someone made her whole days better. The quiet way Frankie was always there, inviting her more and more into his life, making her feel less like a page in his book and more like a part of his story.
“Baby, wake up.” There’s a smile on her lips that is totally involuntary as she presses a soft kiss to top of the man’s head, unable to stop the way her eyes fall shut in the comfort of the moment.
FRANKLIN:
He never fell into the typical Clarington stereotype. While charming and articulate as the rest of his family, Franklin wasn’t as egocentric and often failed to see the reason behind selfishness and greed. See, he was the outlier in a pattern of entitled perspectives, never quite seeing eye to eye with his family’s love of the quid pro quo concept. To him, life wasn’t meant to be transactional.
And perhaps that’s where he went wrong.
Not that he could’ve helped it though. It wasn’t his fault that his heart was made up of all the pieces that the rest of his family lacked. It was a family joke that Frankie was adopted because of the way he’d always been: caring to a fault, selfless, subservient. He was always quick to lend a helping hand without seeking any repayment, always more than willing to give his entire heart and soul to anyone who’d barely even asked. What made it all the more intriguing was that his altruism wasn’t triggered by anything in particular. Maybe he really didn’t have any Clarington blood in him. But it never mattered to him whether or not that was true because at the end of the day, they were family despite their inability to act like one, and that was the one and only family he had. Still, his weren’t the typical traits of the Clarington family, so when Frankie suddenly grew to become a considerate human being with compassion towards society, it was clear that he didn’t fit in their equation.
So he left, not bearing any malice in his heart, knowing that the love he had to give could be spread in places that actually wanted it, sought it, needed it.
His journey to Castlewood was nothing short of spectacular. He’d fallen in love with the foliage, the mom and pop shops along the edge of town, the feeling of a small town community full of kindness. It was a much needed change of pace. There wasn’t anyone there expecting him to selfishly take from others. No one was there to criticize his inability to only think about himself. He finally felt like he was among his people. He’d even gone as far as finding love.
A few times, actually, although that in itself wasn’t out of character for Frankie.
It wasn’t his fault, but over the years, he’d developed a hero complex, always wanting to fix things and make things better. And because of his wild desire to improve every little broken thing he saw, he had a tendency to fall for people who didn’t actually want saving no matter how hard he tried. Because he didn’t know better or when to raise a white flag, he was stuck in an endless loop of loving unconditionally despite not saving any for himself. And still, at the end of the day, Frankie was okay with that. He’d reconciled that he’d rather die giving up all he had than selfishly holding on to something someone else might’ve needed.
And because of this, he never saw when someone was taking advantage of him. He never realized that he was just a temporary fix for some and he always exhausted all of his efforts, grasping at straws to make something out of nothing -- this was normal for Frankie.
This was his concept of love.
Frankie just gave and gave and gave and gave, never expecting anything in return because, based on what he’d seen in his own family, love was just a one-way street. No one met his “I love you’s” halfway, so he’d inadvertently taught himself to say it loud enough for it to echo so that he could hear it in return. And maybe that was a flaw of his. Maybe this was meant to be his downfall. But even then, he still strove to let his love be the unwavering echo heard from the depths of the earth. Because if someone actually needed to hear it, then his job was done.
When Honey left him, the countless texts he sent to her were the echoes of his beating heart still continuing to thrum loudly just in case she needed to hear it. So when she came back, part of him believed that maybe this time, the echo worked.
Loving her was like cotton candy, soft and sweet, delicate to the touch. The feeling of loving her melted in his mouth, never lasting long enough for him to savor the taste as much as he wanted to, always needing more and more of her smile and her laugh, the sound of her voice and the warmth of her skin. She was the first sunlight that peeks through the window in the early hours of the day, the soft brightness gently stirring him awake. Honey was the bridge between dreaming and reality.
His hand draped across her waist and his face nuzzled next to hers, he slept soundly in the midst of her presence, not wanting to disrupt the peace that blanketed them. A soft hum escapes his lips as his eyebrows raise slightly, his eyes still shut as her lips press against his head.
“Five more minutes,” he murmurs softly, gently pulling her closer. Frankie didn’t want to let go of this moment. At least, not for a while. “Not yet, Honey Bee.”
“We would have been unstoppable. Maybe we like need get a four-square game together with a bunch of friends. OR dodge ball?? Dude! That could be so much fun,” Freddie said with a laugh, just getting excited thinking about it. “Yeah, for sure. I kind of like being an adult, like getting to make my own decision, and not having to live with my parents is cool,” he shrugged and took another sip of his drink. Seeing Frankie’s smirk quickly made Freddie make a disgusted face. “Oh no, no, definitely not like that. Not like that at all,” he answered, maybe a little too quickly. “She’s like my oldest friend. We grew up you together, you dummy. Just…no,” he said trying not to sound defensive.
Frankie froze right before his teeth could sink into another bite of his sandwich, pulling it away from his face before speaking up again. “Hold up, that’s actually a really good idea. We could head to the park and draw up a few four-square courts, gather some people, and have a tournament. And if we go the dodgeball route, then we could all just meet at the rec center and go to town! Why hasn’t this happened yet? We’re gonna make it happen.” He grinned at Freddie from ear to ear, finally taking another bite. “Alright alright,” he put up a hand and stood down, laughing quietly as he shook his head. “It was just the way you were smiling, the way that you mentioned her-- I thought there was something there. But hey, at least you’ve got your best friend around at work. Does work put a strain on your friendship?”
Okay, but that is actually one of the greatest mysteries in life. Because chickens come from eggs, but eggs come from chickens. And don’t they need a rooster for that? So which one really came first, chicken, egg, or rooster? Dude, right? I’ve always kind of wished that people would randomly burst into song and dance, but I’ve also always wondered how everyone would know the words and steps? See, my go-to is always Wicked. I love that soundtrack. And Popular is a fun song to sing, I just don’t recommend listening to me sing it. It’s worse than a dying cat. Dude, I have no idea how you could have forgotten that, because he totally made that movie. He’s just so freaking great, my favorite scene will always be the one with Mr. Mime. Even though Mr. Mime totally freaks me out. I never realized how tall he would be! He’s scary!
Wait a second, you’re right. Where’s the rooster in this equation? Maybe the egg did come first then? Because if the chicken came first, then where was the rooster this whole time? Honestly, I lowkey burst into song every now and then at home. And not just when I’m in the shower-- although I sound like Steve Perry in the shower-- but when I’m cooking? Walking through the door? Lounging on the couch? Boom, song. Wicked is such a classic. I’m sure you don’t sound like a dying cat when you sing Popular. Your voice might not Broadway quality, but it’s definitely gotta be sing-along quality. Clearly I had a lapse in memory, but now I won’t forget! Mr. Mime was the creepiest part of that movie, hands down. Why was he so tall? I thought he’d be maybe... up to my waist? But no, he was a full-grown man. I’d hate to see a Mr. Mime out in the wild.
Come on, it can’t be that bad. Cows are cute, right? Like they just moo and munch on grass and do their own thing. I don’t know too much about cows, but I read somewhere that they even have their own best friends. That’s kinda sweet, right?
