Wishing You Were a Ghost

At the Bottom of Everything

Gerard makes himself scarce, which, according to Mikey, he had said that he would. Frank barely remembers anything, though, let alone any promise to steer clear of the apartment building. He remembers ebony skin beneath fishnets and glitter on someone's cheeks, and soft lips against his, and Gerard's face looking very sad, and soft words, and hands gently pushing his bangs out of his face.

Truthfully, Gerard could have said just about anything, and Frank wouldn't have had a fucking clue about it.

The only thing Frank knows concretely is that he doesn't see Gerard again for over half a month before Frank catches him smiling in the hallway, having just exited his boyfriend's apartment.

It's awkward, but there's somehow less tension now than there has been ever since they first encountered each other like this.

Frank is the one to lift his hand in greeting, though he's quickly reminded of the dog he has attached to him when Lois rushes forward to make herself acquainted with Gerard's shoes, dragging Frank forward a few steps as she does it. "You little fucker," Frank scolds her, but luckily, Gerard just smiles.

"She's fine," he says easily, reaching down to expose the back of his hand to her. She snuffles at it for a moment before promptly shoving her entire head under Gerard's hand, silently demanding affection. "Lois?"

"The one and only," Frank says fondly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jacket and letting out a quiet, "Shit!" before shoving it back away and digging his keys out of the opposite pocket. "Sorry, I gotta- Lois," he huffs, pulling at her leash in an attempt to tug her towards their apartment, but she stays sitting firmly planted next to Gerard.

Gerard frowns, but it's a quizzical expression. "Hot date?"

"With my boss," Frank laughs, "Had the day off, but he wants to have a meeting, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be scared shitless, or excited, but I can't do either if my good for nothing dog doesn't get with the program."

With a smile, Gerard gives Lois another good scratch behind the ears and then shoos her towards her owner. "Don't let me stop you," he says with a smile. "I'll see you later, Frank." With a wave, he walks past. "Good luck, by the way. With the meeting."

Frank gives him a smile and a wave back. "Thanks. I'll probably need it," he says, finally getting his door open and dragging Lois inside.

The meeting, as it turns out, is a promotion, and not one Frank had been expecting either. It's not just another fucking raise, it's a whole ass promotion. Frank isn't just selling guitars anymore. He's more than welcome to do that, yes, but he's now a brand representative with a shiny new login for the stores social media accounts, and a big even shinier fucking budget for new instruments to purchase and sell. On top of that, they have decided that, within the next three weeks, they'll 'figure out if Frank is a good fit for the position'.

Terrifying words, but the meaning? Christ, it's too good to be true.

If Frank doesn't quite fit into the representative box, no harm no foul. They will apparently not cut his pay back down, and he's more than welcome to continue working at the store. They want him to continue to work at the store, in face, and were worried that offering him the position, if he didn't want it, would lead to a 'severance'.

So Frank has multiple duties now. One is to consult with brands for marketing. Promote products on their social media, and have a meeting with their different correspondents once a week to talk about how sales are doing. The next is his own general selling of instruments. If he's on the floor and sees someone looking to purchase, he's free to see the deal through.