ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

22: I Am How You See Me, Nothing More, Nothing Less

"Frank?"

Frank jumped, a wobbled yelp leaving him when he heard the voice coming from behind him. He spun around quickly, sniffing to hide the fact that he had been crying, trying to look at lot sharper than he actually was, to see who was talking to him. The voice that calmed him and scared the shit out of him all at the same time.

"Sir," Frank breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Gerard standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at him with confusion plastered across his face. It was late' close to eleven o'clock and, somehow, Gerard was still here. He wasn't where Frank had assumed that he would be; at home in bed with his wife. No, thank God, he was still in the office. Frank deleted his message to Ryan, pocketing his phone, "I-I was hoping you were still here but, I assumed that you'd... Gone home."

"I was about to," Gerard told him as he walked into the room, putting his hands in his pockets, "I've just been shutting down everything for the night- Frank, what are you doing here? It's late. Shouldn't you be with your friend in the hospital right now?"

That question hit Frank hard. The last time he had spoken to Gerard, he was running off to be with Jamia while she gave birth. Gerard had given him the opportunity to be there for her. And he had been there for her right to the very end. The question brought it all back, screaming through his head, the memory of her not responding while he was holding Jamia's daughter in his arms. He was an uncle, but in the process of becoming an uncle, he lost his best friend. As much as Frank was holding it together right now, he was also losing grip of it all again and unraveling in front of Gerard, his bottom lip quivering as his eyes started to sting.

"Are you okay?" Gerard asked, watching Frank nod as he bit down on his bottom lip and immediately looked down, whimpering. Gerard took an uneasy step closer, "Did something happen?"

Frank felt his shoulders starting to shake, his hands coming up to his face as he sobbed. He really didn't want to come across as weak in front of Gerard, who was so strong, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks silently when Gerard came to a stop in front of him, taking hold of his shoulders to examine him.

"Did Ryan do something?" Gerard asked but Frank shook his head, trying to wipe his eyes, trying not to cry in front of his boss. It was too late, and another sob left him before the waterworks really started, coming out of Frank faster than he could hold it together, "What did he do? Tell me."

"It w-wasn't R-Ryan," Frank told Gerard, looking at him for a second before he looked back down, looking at the black silk tie that Gerard was wearing because it was easier to focus on instead of focusing on the eyes that were trained on him, "I-"

Frank completely lost it as he opened his mouth to explain, his whole body shaking while he cried. Frank couldn't even hold it together for long enough to tell Gerard what had happened. The idea of actually vocalizing what had happened ripped Frank apart' if he said it then it meant that what had happened was real. Jamia was really gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

Frank felt arms wrap around him, pulling him and holding him close. He continued to cry, sobbing against material that he soon realized was Gerard's shirt. He was hugging him, holding him so close, like he was letting him just cry it out. He had no idea what had happened, but clearly it was something that had shaken Frank irrevocably. He may have been broken and felt like his life was falling apart around him right now, but at the moment where Gerard was holding him and stroking his back whilst letting him cry against his chest, Frank felt somewhat comforted. He was still crying, still letting heartbroken sobs muffle against Gerard's shirt, but he didn't feel so alone.

"Do you want to talk about what happened, boy?" Gerard asked when Frank seemed a little calmer, hoping to find out why he was in such a bad state. Frank sniffed, trying to breathe through his nose, even though it was stuffed up from all the crying. Frank felt like he was calm enough to talk, maybe not calm enough to say what had happened without another influx of emotions taking over him. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand before seeing the wet blotch where his face had soaked into the white cotton of his boss's button-up.