Wishing You Were a Ghost

The 'Feel Good' Revolution

Thank fuck for mentally stable people.

Well, okay, Aspen has their fair share of problems too, like the PTSD that crops up when the couple are walking down the street and witness a truck slam into the side of a sedan at the intersection in front of them.

Frank holds them through their panic attack, the same way they held him through the spiral of tears that night after they left Mikey's apartment.

Their relationship is a pleasant give and take, and it never feels like anyone is giving more than they're taking. The hardest part about the entire thing is simply finding time together.

Frank works- well, it's not a corporate office existence, but it could be considered a nine to five at this point, because of the hours he clocks in, and the days he works. Aspen works at an all night roller rink downtown. Their schedules clash, and when school starts back up for the fall semester, it leaves Frank swamped with new students.

They make it work. It's just a lot more of those days where they only check in via text, but they do find time.

Like the very last weekend of August, when they both make a point to take off work on the same days and spend every second - from the time Frank gets home early on Friday afternoon straight through to Sunday morning - in bed re-learning all the corners of each other's bodies that they never forgot in the first place.

The only reason they end up leaving bed at all is at least not out of necessity, but because they both agree that the bar-b-que Mikey is planning at his apartment complex's communal pool sounds like a good idea.

Some fun in the sun before another long work week, and even less time together, because Aspen's sister is in town next weekend, so they won't be available again.

Knowing that doesn't make it any easier to let them out of Frank's bed, though. Especially not when the only thing they're wearing when they go to make coffee is one of Frank's fucking t-shirts. On anyone else, it would be risque as it is. But Aspen is like eight million feet tall, and Frank's shirt rides up just beneath their navel.

This is not a tiny petite college girlfriend in her frat boyfriend's oversized t-shirt. It's not peeking asscheeks from beneath the hem. This is a fucking full grown deity exhibiting full frontal (and back!) nudity strutting their way into Frank's kitchen. He groans, long, and loud, and over-exaggerated. Just to make sure it's getting his point across.

It does. Aspen just doesn't care. Or rather, they care, but, "We've got plans today, mon amour," they tell Frank in a sing-song voice from across the apartment. The reminder that Mikey awaits, and that Frank hates being a flake are the first initial reasons for finally dragging himself out of bed. The reason he stays out of bed is the promise of what comes after they get home and have to shower off all the chlorine.

But to get home and shower, they have to leave first, so they don their summer best, and gather up what they need so they can make the haul across town.

It's a gorgeous day for it, too. Warm, and bright in a way that has Frank squinting when they get out of their rideshare and into the sunlight. Aspen teases him, taking their sunglasses out of their little perch in the carefully piled bubblegum pink and navy blue box braids on top of their head. They place them on Frank's face and lean in to kiss his nose. "I told you we should've brought yours," they tell him teasingly.

Frank shrugs a shoulder, adjusting the frames as they wander around the side of Mikey's building. "These look better on me anyway," he says with a grin.

They roll their eyes, but kiss his temple anyway as they walk.

Things that should not come as a surprise upon entering the pool: