ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

16: Aunt Mabel's Sofa Wrapped Around His Legs

Frank was coming to realize as he looked at his watch, seeing that he had already been hiding in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes, that having to leave soon was inevitable. He knew they were going to say something. Most of his coworkers came dressed in black and muted tones and even those that wore bright colors kept it simple and their clothes actually matched. Not Frank, no. He knew someone was going to say something. It had already happened once. Fucking Bob, his words ringing in Frank's head all over again; the fact that Bob had said that he dressed like a spaz. It was the first impression this guy had of him and he knew that it was going to stick. Even once he finally dressed for himself, Bob would remember and Bob would probably keep bringing it up.

Frank was about to figure out if there was any way he could make what he was wearing look any better, but he was interrupted when the bathroom door was opened. He jumped, feeling his cheeks heating up already. It was too late, someone had come into the bathroom and that someone just had to be Derek. At least he had already seen how Frank was dressed today.

"He's here," Was all Derek said to Frank, his lips pursed, "He wants you."

Those five words that made Frank suddenly nervous; Derek really didn't need to explain any further. Those five words let Frank know exactly what had happened while he had been hiding away. Gerard had come into the office and he had probably seen that Frank wasn't at his desk. Frank wanted to die, not just because he was more than likely about to get in trouble. Especially after what Gerard had said to him only yesterday about arriving on time and whatnot, but Frank also wanted to die right now because he had to go and see his boss dressed like an autumn-inspired clown from the '70s. Frank nodded at Derek, saying 'okay' because he knew that there was no way he could avoid the impending judgment. Gerard was probably already waiting for him, expecting him any minute now. Derek left the bathroom moments later, letting the door shut behind him while he went back to do his work.

Frank grabbed his waistcoat and blazer, deciding not to put them back on and hoped that he looked better without them. Gerard had already commented about his clothing several times now, there was no way in hell he was going to give Gerard another opportunity to make some remark about what he was wearing. He stepped out of the bathroom with the awful items of clothing draped over his arm and made a beeline straight for his desk, quickly shoving the jacket and waistcoat out of sight underneath it. He noticed how Derek was watching him with a near-smirk on his face and chose to ignore it. No matter how badly this was going to go, Frank knew that he had to be in that next-door office, and Derek and his annoying fucking smirk could just get fucked. Frank knocked on the door meekly, feeling his stomach somersaulting against his colon and diaphragm. A second passed until he heard Gerard from inside, telling him that he could enter. Frank swallowed, taking a deep breath before he stepped inside the office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Frank tried to speak as confidently as possible, not wanting to show that he was nervous or worried that he had done something wrong. No, of course, he wasn't walking into the office like a bad dog with its tail between its legs.

"I did," Gerard replied in a monotone, setting down a manilla folder. He looked at Frank and in an instant, Frank broke eye contact with him, looking down at his feet because that stare did something to his already uneasy insides. Frank stood near the open door, wondering if he should step forward, but he hadn't been told what to do.

"Don't stand so far away. Come closer, please." Gerard spoke from behind his desk, waving his hand at Frank, signaling for him to step forward. Frank really didn't want to, but his feet moved before his brain even registered that he was making his way towards the desk. He avoided eye contact, even though he swore he could feel Gerard's eyes on him, watching him intently.

"I called you in for a reason, Frank," Gerard began, leaning forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk while he examined and scrutinized his assistant, "But firstly, why did you come to work dressed so inappropriately? It was rather cold this morning," Gerard continued, "I do hope you wore more than that today."