There were easier, faster ways to deal with this. He could have disappeared, cleanly, off the face of the earth for a good three weeks, that was probably long enough to ruin everything. He could have gotten so positively fucking drunk and high that she'd need to take only one good look at him to ruin any desire she ever had. He could have dug his heels in and made it worse, screamed more, louder. Things were all broken already, might as well take a baseball bat to it. They'd all at least shorten the immediate misery of having to sit through this. The problem there, as usually was the problem in most of the solution Frank came up to his problems, was not the effectiveness of it, but how much they'd hurt her. "i just wish..." He shrugged, lips pressed together in a thin line as he once again inhaled slowly, and exhaled even slower. "Never mind, It's, I'm just saying sad shit. I, it doesn't matter. It's not—" Frank shook his head. He wished he had a bottle to take some hefty sips from at least. "I don't know how much you wanna hear that right now or at all, but I am, I am sorry, that, I, er," he had to clear his throat at least twice, swallow around the lump that had formed in his throat. "I'm sorry that i hurt you. i wasn't trying to, I, It doesn't, I mean, I know it doesn't matter, but I wasn't. I don't know what I was trying to do, but I wasn't trying to hurt you, and I did and that's— 'm sorry, Jordan."
