Slow Chemical
Chapter 5 — Consequences
{Previous Chapter}/{Next Chapter}
Frank Castle x fem!reader
tw: angst, yearning, slowburn
word count: ~ 2,100
Morning had came and gone quietly. Most mornings followed the same rhythm whether he paid attention or not. Pipes groaned through the walls. Someone upstairs dragged furniture they never seemed to finish moving. Next door, the television clicked on too loud for the news again.
Frank had gone through his morning as he usually did. Black coffee. Gathering the places he would go to and the names he would visit for the day. He pushed the thoughts of the night prior away.
That is, until the afternoon when 2:30 hit.
The door across from him.
The door usually opened.
Footsteps. Keys. The faint shuffle of someone starting another ordinary day.
Today, the hallway stayed still.
Frank sat at the small table in his apartment, cleaning solvent beside a disassembled pistol. He worked methodically, hands steady, eyes focused on metal and oil. He glanced at the clock.
2:40.
Nothing.
He told himself he wasn’t waiting. People took days off. Slept in. Changed routines. None of it meant anything. He reassembled the mechanism with a clean, precise motion.
Still no door.
Smart, he decided. If she had any sense, she’d stay away from him. Pretend they’d never spoken. Find another route home. Avoid eye contact forever. That was how this usually ended.
How it should end.
Frank packed his gear without thinking about it further.
~~~~~~~~~~
The city didn’t feel different.
He did.
The first man went down before he finished begging.
Frank barely heard what he was saying. The words blurred together. Excuses. Promises. Fear. Usually Frank listened. Usually he made them talk. Made them understand why this was happening. Tonight there was no such thing.
A gun clattered across wet pavement. Another body hit the ground moments later. Quick. Efficient. Final. One of them wheezed and sputtered through broken breaths, his coat caught by Frank’s hand.
“You ain’t even gonna ask why I’m here?”
Frank stared down at him. Normally he would have. Names. Routes. Suppliers. Information. Tonight he felt nothing but a dull pressure behind his ribs. He finished it and walked away before the echo faded.
He moved through familiar streets afterward, boots carrying him along routes he knew too well. Without realizing it, he turned down the block where the alley sat.
The same alley. His steps slowed.
The memory rose uninvited. He remembered the weight of you against him. Your hands gripping the front of his coat like you already knew you were safe there.
You hadn’t pulled away.
Hadn’t screamed.
Just looked up at him, breath uneven, trusting him even though you understood what he was.
Frank forced his gaze forward and kept walking.
~~~~~~~~~
By the time he returned home, night had settled deep over the apartment building. Apartment 447 felt smaller than usual once again. He set his gear down and began cleaning. Routine kept his hands busy even when his thoughts refused to cooperate.
Nothing would’ve come of it anyway.
Neighbors talked. Shared coffee. Borrowed tools sometimes. That was all it could have ever been.
He’d known better.
He always knew better.
Metal clicked softly as he wiped down another weapon.
Across the hall.
Silence.
Her door hadn’t opened at all. Hadn’t closed. No footsteps. No keys. Maybe she’d left early. Maybe she’d moved out. Maybe she was avoiding him exactly like she should.
Frank forced his attention back to the workbench. Not his business. The cloth dragged across steel.
Then.
A sound.
A lock turning.
His head lifted before he could stop himself.
Her door opened.
Relief came sharp and immediate, gone just as fast when he realized he’d felt it at all. Footsteps lingered in the hallway.
Not leaving.
Waiting.
Then.
A soft knock.
The rag stopped moving in his hand.
Frank didn’t move.
The sound settled into the room, heavier than gunfire. He stared at the door. She shouldn’t be here. He knew that. His hand rested against the table as seconds stretched longer than they should have.
Another knock. Gentle. Uncertain.
Frank stood.
He opened the door only partway, keeping his body angled against the frame, one shoulder braced there as if ready to close it again at any moment.
You stood in the hallway. Not in your work uniform. Just regular clothes. Hair slightly messy, like you hadn’t planned on leaving your apartment today. Your eyes met his immediately.
You didn’t look away.
“I know who you are,” you said.
Frank’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Do you.”
Not a question. A warning.
You shifted your weight, nerves visible but not retreating, “I wasn’t sure if I should stop by.”
He said nothing. The hallway hummed quietly around you both. You swallowed, “I just… wanted to say thank you.”
Frank studied your face, searching automatically for fear. For revulsion. For the moment realization caught up and sent you backing away.
It didn’t come.
“You shouldn’t thank me.” He said.
“I should.” A small breath left you, “I was scared last night…”
His expression hardened.
There it was.
He waited for the rest.
“But not of you.”
The words landed harder than anything he’d heard all day. Frank didn’t know what to do with them.
You continued, quieter now, “You could’ve walked away. Pretended you didn’t see me. You didn’t.”
He looked past you down the hallway instead, gaze settling anywhere but your eyes, “That life…” he said slowly. “…people don’t usually stick around once they see it.”
You nodded once, like you understood, “Yeah. I figured.”
Silence stretched between you.
“I didn’t come here because of that,” you said after a moment. “I came because you helped me.” Your fingers tightened slightly around each other, “And it felt weird… acting like you were just my neighbor again.”
Frank shifted slightly against the doorframe, arms folding loosely across his chest. A barrier more than a posture.
He expected awkwardness.
Distance.
Instead, you stood there like this was just another conversation between neighbors. Like nothing essential had changed.
“…You okay?” he asked finally, the words leaving before he decided to say them.
You nodded, “Took the day off. I think my brain needed a minute.”
He gave a faint nod, understanding more than he let show. Silence settled again. Not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. Neither of you moved to end it.
“You don’t have to avoid me,” you added softly. “If that’s what you were planning.”
Frank almost let out a humorless breath.
He had been.
Still was.
“We’ll see.” He said.
It wasn’t rejection. It wasn’t acceptance either. But you smiled a little anyway, like it was enough.
“Okay.” You stepped back toward your door.
“Goodnight, Frank.”
He hesitated a fraction of a second before answering.
“Night.”
Your door closed gently across the hall. Frank remained in his doorway long after, listening to the lock click into place.
Safe.
He finally shut his own door, leaning against it briefly. The apartment felt different now. More breathing room.
Across the hall, she hadn’t run. And for the first time since the alley, Frank realized he hadn’t pushed her away fast enough.
He wasn’t sure if that was a mistake.
He wasn’t sure he wanted it to be.
{Previous Chapter}/{Next Chapter}
Taglist: @lonelyghosts-stuff