I love you're writing btw!! I'm trying to post some pics myself and you give me hella inspiration!
Allow me to be sad and pathetic, but Frank with an s/o who takes lots of photos or candid photos, but when looking back Frank realizes there are little to no photos of them. Their valways jumping at the opportunity to take photos of Frank but by the looks of itnobody bothers to take photos of her. He'd definitely invest in one of those small 35 mm camera to take photos of his girl because she deserves the same amount of love put into the photos she takes of him.
thank you so much for the kind words!! so glad that you are sharing your work âșïž
also, i love this idea very much.
he's in a hurry one morning when he catches sight of the photograph on her wooden bedside table. it's in a vintage frame by the looks of it - probably something she'd picked out at the antique market a couple of blocks away - and it's of him and their cat Gus. it isn't a flattering picture by any means - it's a close-up of his side profile and features the nose that's been broken too many times to count. his beard is patchy in some areas, but he's holding onto Gus for dear life, and he actually looks... content. he's not sure how she managed it, but she's captured something he rarely ever sees in himself, and for what feels like the billionth time that morning - he finds himself in unadulterated awe of her.
when he gets home from site that night - exhausted and entirely ready for bed - he takes a moment to note the amount of photographs in the apartment that feature him, or the cats, but never her, and he is immediately perturbed. she is the single most important person in his life, and what has he got to show for it? when he falls into bed beside her, he presses his lips to her temple and mumbles, "i'm gonna be better, sweetheart." and bless her - she's half asleep, so she just nods and murmurs something to the effect of - sounds good, frankie. 'm glad you're home.
it takes him about a month to find the perfect camera. the one he really wanted was on sale for pennies on eBay, but the thought of putting any personal information into an online database turned him off completely, so he started the search anew. he had been about to give up entirely in favour of a much easier alternative (best buy), but fate had smiled upon him the day he walked into the pawn shop on the corner of 41st and 47th. he had originally been on the hunt for a better newer police scanner when he spotted the 35mm pentax in the front window.
"how much for the camera in the display case?" he'd asked.
the old man shrugged in a way that made frank doubtful he'd get much of a deal out of the transaction. "i can give it to you for fifty."
frank scowled; it was twice what he would have paid online. "I gotta be your most frequent customer, al. 'sat really the best you can do?"
the old man threw up his arms in exasperation. "look frank - its not like they're lining up around the block." he chewed over the silence a moment and then sighed in defeat. "i'll let you take it for forty."
"how generous of you, al," he mumbled before sliding two twenties across the counter. "i'll see you soon."
"not soon enough!" the old man shouted after him.
and purchasing it is one thing - but then he has to learn how to use the damn thing, and after a couple of weeks, and some back and forth trips to the drug store to have the film developed, he's ready to test it out on his muse.
he takes his first picture of her on steel pier in atlantic city. she's leant over the wooden railing, and watching the sun sink low over the atlantic ocean, and it's one of those moments he knows he'll remember for the rest of his days. he adds it to the scant collection of other memories he keeps close to his heart.
"what's with the museum piece?"
her knowing smirk makes his cheeks warm, and he shrugs. "our place is filled with pictures of me and the boys, but there are none of you... or us," he takes her hand in his and presses his lips to the back of it. "that ends today, sweetheart."
and, true to his word, when he gets the film back, one of the only pictures that turned out the way he wanted, was of her on the pier.
he comes home from the site a little later than usual one evening, with a small 4x6 wooden frame he'd crafted himself, using materials he'd scrounged for and proudly displays the picture of her on his own bedside table. he definitely needs more practice finessing his photography skills, but he knows he's on the right track.
"look baby," he murmurs against the crown of her head when she joins him between the covers later on. "we match, now."
