November 1st (Frerard)

3: Wednesday, October 3rd

Frank had known from his first glance out of the kitchen window that there was no chance he was braving what seemed to be little short of a full blown storm, a fucking torrential downpour, and just because his mother had told him to, of all reasons, because seriously Frank was getting behind on the gay, rebellious agenda that he was supposed to be committed to.

But his mother had narrowed her eyes in that unnervingly and oddly threatening manner and slid the dog lead across the table towards him, before making her way into the study; she was busy at work, that was all Frank knew, not that he particularly yearned to know every detail of his mother's work schedule, of course.

He let out a sigh as he made a grab for the lead, perhaps just contemplating the thought, glancing between the lead and the downpour outside, and finally, Daisy, as she made her way into the kitchen: tongue hanging out, as she too seemed to look between the lead and the weather outside, and then pleadingly at Frank.

And fuck it, because if there was one thing that Frank loved in this world, it was Daisy, and perhaps this would give him some air anyway: some space and time to think, to detach himself from the mess of the letter, and the person who'd written it, and the seven messages Ray had left on his phone - overly concerned about how 'odd' Frank had been acting yesterday.

It wasn't like Frank wasn't grateful for his friends, he just needed time, fucking endless time in the circumstances, even.

He'd copied the letter into a note on his cellphone now, just in case anything would happen to it, and of course, taken a photo too, just to be safe, and he was content in leaving the letter itself home and safe in his drawer, as he slid his cellphone into his hoodie pocket, and grabbed the lead, Daisy grinning at him as he made his way to the door.

Perhaps Frank had severely underestimated the circumstances outside, and perhaps Frank had also severely underestimated just how eager Daisy was: running down the pavement and playing in a puddle, as Frank was left begrudgingly at the other end of a lead, as he cursed to himself and pulled his hood further over his head.

Daisy eventually seemed to get over the initial excitement that the rain outside had brought, as she returned to a calmer pace, still ahead of Frank, but comfortably so, and perhaps even leading the boy through the paths and pavements of a town they both knew all too well, and barely at all at the same time.

Frank lit himself a cigarette as soon as they got far enough away from home for him to be comfortable in his belief that his mother wouldn't spot him 'rotting his lungs away'. Of course, getting a lighter to work amidst a rainstorm was more difficult than Frank had accounted for, and he found himself cursing, before he finally got the damn cigarette to light, and quite honestly, it really didn't seem worth the effort.

And quite honestly, neither did this, but Daisy was happy, and Frank did love her an awful lot, and perhaps hiss head did indeed some sort of change in scenery, but as he glanced out across the sea front, Daisy having strayed down through the houses and out to the coastline without him even noticing, he couldn't help but think of the letter written in blue ink, by the person intending to drown themselves.

The sea was stormy today: all shades of grey and grimy side of the road cracked beer bottle green, with froth and waves too powerful, thrashing against the shore, but nothing particularly spectacular of tsunami like: just high tide, and dreary weather, and a cloudy sky.

It was oddly beautiful, though, and Frank couldn't help but admit that to himself, as Daisy even came to a halt at the boulevard rail: the two looking out across at the beach, and the ocean below, and words written in the sand, easily washed away into nothing: another simple reminder that everything was temporary.