Frankie recognised the roads - it was hard not to in such a small town. The second he arrived he had made it his mission to know every twist and turn that the town held. It reminded him a little of where they had gone to school. A small community, although it was a tad less elitist. Artists and agriculturists lined the streets. A beautiful mesh of worldly beauty and imagination. In a way it made sense that Amos ended up there. He was a worldly beauty with an imagination.
He knew Amos was destined for a life of scandal. That was what had driven them apart in the first place, but Frankie didn’t mind. Perhaps being part of some gossip would keep him relevant. “And I have a history with good choices. No one can hold this against me,” he said with a coy smile.
When the car stopped he looked out the window, up at the apartments in surprise. He should have expected that Amos lived so close to the water. “I learned to swim,” he said. He knew only Amos would understand the weight of that announcement.
When he climbed out of the car he looked out at the water for a moment before turning to face his new companion. The streetlights illuminated his handsome face, making him look like a ghost. “I could never be too busy for you.”
He didn’t pick the town, not before he was driving though it one day and decided to stop at the motel for the night, and the night turned to a week. Then the motel turned into an apartment, and that week into two. It reminded him of home. Not in the sense that it was a place he could see himself settling down in, rather a small town filled with art, and beauty, and sea spray, that was reminiscent of the one he’d left long ago.Â
“Don’t worry, I know how to change that.” He can’t help but stare back at Frankie, under the streetlights with the sounds of the ocean so close by. The drumming fills his ears, wind off the water bats them as they stand still by the roadside. The only thing stopping him from closing the distance between them is the thought that perhaps they’re being watched out here, he doesn’t think it likely he’d been followed all the way out to the nowhere town, but Amos is so accustomed to being in the public’s eye he doesn’t want to risk the chances. Not for Francis.
“It’s that what’s changed in you? You’re no longer afraid?” The words are gentle leaving his lips, eyes tracing over Francis as if trying to find the answer himself. To be unafraid, how he was envious of that. The searching would only last so long though, before Amos turns his gaze away, and leads them into the apartment complex, and up to the penthouse.
Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the beach is the only thing in sight to catch any attention. The space is empty, besides for the basic furniture- but it lacks any real personalisation. Besides for the used glasses on the bench, and the unmistakable sense of incense that leaves smoke trellis in the room, it would easily be mistaken for a display apartment. He doesn’t linger on explanations, after all he’d only been here a week and still considered the possibility of returning home yet. Instead Amos heads to the kitchen, grabbing two glassed from the cupboards, and pouring out a few fingers of whiskey in both of them.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” the words are hesitant almost, unsure if he’s saying the right thing. “Or again really.”
