Frank was finally home, he had finally decided that he had to be considering it was just after ten at night. He had finished with Gerard at least a half-hour ago and took the slowest drive home in existence. But he couldn't prolong the inevitable anymore, he couldn't be out, he didn't have anything else to do. He walked into the house and shut the door, locking it behind him before he put his keys and wallet in the bowl. Frank looked around, seeing the house empty, and he sighed as he hoped Ryan would be in bed and asleep. Frank knew he was going to sleep on the sofa anyway, but the softer part of him had to at least go upstairs and make sure Ryan was breathing. Frank walked up the stairs one by one, realizing with each one just how tired he actually had become. He made it, begrudgingly, to the top of the landing and walked into their bedroom to see Ryan sitting on the bed. He sat in the middle of the bed with his legs crossed, still dressed from that afternoon. Frank blinked in surprise, "You're awake."
Ryan's tone was curt and guarded, "You're home."
"I am." Frank nodded as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up in the wardrobe.
"Late,"
"A lot to do." Frank sighed as he loosened his tie.
"I bet." Ryan folded his arms and Frank raised an eyebrow, turning to look at his boyfriend, who was staring him down icily.
"What's pissing in your cereal?" Frank asked as he kicked off his shoes and bent down to pull his socks from his feet. He threw them in the hamper and spun around again to see Ryan still looking sour, "What is it?"
"Are you fucking your boss, or not?" Ryan asked simply and Frank did a double-take, faltering in surprise at Ryan's blatant and ridiculous question. And at the crude language- Language of which Ryan was not usually a fan.
"I- You're kidding?" Frank scoffed. Ryan shrugged his shoulders coldly as he folded his arms, "You're genuinely calling me out on an affair with a Congressman of New Jersey?"
"Well..." Ryan narrowed his eyes, "It would make sense."
"'Make sense'?" Frank asked, bewildered as he unfastened his belt, "You do know that we're in a relationship, right? You and me... Or, have you been dissociated for over half a decade?"
"'Now' isn't the time for your sarcasm." Ryan said flippantly, "You're not saying 'no'."
"Because you're being ridiculous!" Frank scoffed, "I'm not fucking my boss."
"Then, what about the stuff he's given you?"
"Stuff I needed." Frank replied almost instantly, suddenly feeling repugnant towards his boyfriend, "Stuff I didn't have."
"Then, where have you been all week?"
"At work, Ryan." Frank pulled his belt from the loops and lay it down in the wardrobe in a tight coil, "Working with my boss on overtime so I can make more money."
"Or suck him off." Ryan scoffed.
"I wouldn't do that." Frank stated simply, hearing Ryan scoff again, "Mainly because I'm in a relationship, but I also don't want to embarrass myself because I'm out of practice with sucking dick."
"That's..." Ryan trailed off, "An unnecessary jab at me and you know it."
"Do I, though?" Frank asked with an eye roll, "You're being so dramatic. Nothing is going on."
"I don't believe you."
"No." Frank straightened up, getting angry now, "You don't trust me."
"I do." Ryan countered and Frank raised both hands in defeat before he turned and walked out of the bedroom to go and make coffee, "Don't you walk away from me."
"And look at me doing it, though." Frank replied as he walked down the stairs and into the hallway, "Look. I'm still doing it."
"Frank, get back here."
"No!" Frank yelled, "I've had a long day as it was without you going all 'Sherlock Holmes, Private Eye' on my new boss! I know what you were doing!"
"Which is?" Ryan asked as he reappeared in the kitchen doorway much to Frank's obvious dismay. Frank merely scoffed at Ryan as he began making himself a coffee. Ryan scowled, "Don't ignore me."
"Don't you dare tell me what to do." Frank hissed, "I don't need to fucking obey you."
"Don't take that tone with me!" Ryan yelled, making Frank grip the counter tightly with white knuckles.
"Don't fucking yell at me!" Frank turned on Ryan, furious and angry bubbles boiling in his stomach, "I don't need to answer to you! You were there for more than just bringing me lunch, Ryan!"
"And you're doing more than filing and fetching coffee!" Ryan screamed back and Frank flinched, his hands curling into fists.
"No, the fuck I'm not!"
"Stop denying it, Frank!" Ryan walked into the kitchen and Frank stepped back, keeping his distance just in case he decided to throttle Ryan, "I know you're fucking him!"
"First off..." Frank seethed, "Even if I was fucking my boss, I would definitely not be topping and secondly... And, most importantly-"
"Wait-" Ryan interrupted Frank, stopping him immediately, making him sigh out deliberately and put his hands on his hips, "You wouldn't top?"
"Is that really what you're on about?"
"You're not a bottom." Ryan scoffed, "You've never... Are you?"
"That's not the point." Frank ran a hand through his hair, "You're forgetting one major thing, Ryan."
"Answer me."
"Ryan."
"Frank, answer me for fuck's sake."
"Ryan! Leave it alone! The man is married!" Frank yelled loudly, startling Ryan, "Do you fucking realize the man is married?! And, may I fucking add, to a woman!"
"W- I forgot...."
"And she works with us, Ryan!" Frank seethed, "She was there tonight, too. And if you had asked, and not just jumped to conclusions, then you would have known that, for fuck's sake!"
"That means nothing."
"Not everyone is a fucking cheater, Ryan! What the fuck is your problem?!"
"My fucking problem is you fucking your boss!" Ryan screamed back when Frank let out an aggravated scream before he grabbed the first thing he could and threw it, aiming his coffee mug in Ryan's general direction.
"Stop being so fucking stubborn!" Frank screamed as the coffee mug hit the side of one of the top cabinets and shattered in pieces on the floor, sending coffee powder and sugar everywhere, and making Ryan jump out of the way, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing!" Ryan screamed back as he grabbed his hair with tears in his eyes, "You're the one who's lying!"
"I'm not fucking lying, Ryan!" Frank didn't know what to do, feeling his every sinew strung up, his whole body thrumming with fury, "You're being so stupid!"
"No!" Ryan yelled back, "You fucking wish I was! So I wouldn't see it! I do, I fucking do!"
"You're deranged!" Frank clutched the counter, turning from Ryan, his head swimming in thick and bright red fury-laced molasses, "Just go away."
"No." Ryan said firmly, "Not until you admit it."
"I have nothing to admit." Frank forced back tears, "I've done nothing."
"Oh no, apparently not," Ryan said simply. Frank frowned and turned to look at his boyfriend, "You're not the 'doer' in that relationship, right?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Frank sighed softly, trying to control his shaking hands, "What would you like me to do, Ryan? Would you like me to phone him so you can ask him, huh?"
"No." Ryan folded his arms, "He wouldn't tell me. I could see it this morning. He's too smooth to be caught lying."
"You're being ridiculous." Frank scoffed, "How dare you?"
"You're resilient." Ryan narrowed his eyes, "I know you're fucking him."
"Would you like to give my asshole a feel? Would that make you feel better? Any lube, any less tight?" Frank asked as he took a step closer, "It'll be the first time you ever go anywhere near my asshole so how would you fucking know anyway?"
"That's uncalled for."
"So is this!" Frank ran his hands over his face, "This completely unnecessary intervention."
"I'd rather this were a fucking intervention." Ryan spat.
"If anyone's on drugs here, it's you. You're fucking insane and I'm so fucking hurt that you think that of me, Ryan."
"It's not you that I'm worried about. It's him. But it involves you." Ryan countered swiftly and Frank shook his head, "Don't shake your head at me."
"I fucking will. Don't. Tell. Me. What. To do." Frank spat, "You're not the boss of me."
"Bet that's not what you say to him, is it?" Ryan spat back and Frank felt something in him snap, he felt as though he couldn't take it. He couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't take what Ryan had become. He knew that it would only get worse and that Ryan was like a pitbull, once he locked his jaws in something he would never let it go.
"Y'know what?" Frank muttered softly, "Fuck this." He turned and walked away from Ryan towards the living room.
"Where are you going?"
"I said 'fuck this'."
Ryan walked into the living room, watching Frank sit down on the sofa. The air was still tense as Ryan came to a halt a few feet away from him, watching him for a second. Frank looked somewhat deflated, worn down and tired while he held his head in his hands, taking a moment to himself, not realizing that Ryan had followed him. Like a punch to the gut that had winded him; it silenced him and made him actually take a moment to assess the situation that had unraveled. Couples fought and he knew that, but there was someone that felt so unhealthy recently with their fights.
A moment to just collect his thoughts and figure out what he was actually going to do. What was happening between himself and Ryan, it wasn't healthy. Their whole relationship seemed somewhat messed up and not normal. But not now. It had all come to ahead. Like Frank was standing on the edge of a cliff. He could walk away and it would all remain the same, or he could jump and change everything. Break everything and start all over again now that he had opened his eyes and realize that this wasn't working. The truth was that it hadn't been working for so long, but he had just gotten so used to it. Right now while he sat on the sofa, trying to breathe evenly while he collected his thoughts in his head. Frank noticed that he wasn't alone after a moment of contemplation. He sighed, shaking his head, "You calmed down yet?"
"Are you going to tell me the truth?" Ryan asked, folding his arms across his chest. It was good that they weren't shouting; Frank was tired of shouting at Ryan. He scoffed, shaking his head again at Ryan before he sat back on the sofa.
"I did tell you the truth," Frank told him again, hoping that Ryan would listen to him and just drop this nonsense. Not that it mattered if he dropped it or not; Frank was at a point where he was so close to making up his mind on the situation. How could it work and stay strong on its foundations if Ryan wasn't going to believe him?
"I'm sorry," Ryan started, taking a few steps forward so he could be closer to Frank. Frank eyed Ryan with disgust as though the very idea of being in his general vicinity had him queasy, "But, I find that so hard to believe when you spend most of your nights with him."
Frank groaned. Not this again, he thought. Why couldn't Ryan believe him? He could understand if he had done something behind Ryan's back before, breaking the trust in the past. But he had never done anything to jeopardize their relationship. Everything he had done, it had been done with Ryan in his mind and in his heart. He looked away, seething as he rolled his tongue stud against his teeth, "I told you... I've been working overtime to make more money. Just because I've done that, for us, may I add, doesn't mean that I'm fucking him."
"I find that hard to believe," Ryan snorted, making Frank roll his eyes and curse under his breath, muttering, "What did you just say?"
"I said, 'I find you hard to believe a lot of the time'," Frank spoke up, sitting up before making eye contact with Ryan.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. The moment someone does anything nice to me, you think that there is something going on behind your back." Frank looked down at his feet when Ryan snorted an incredulous breath.
"You're being ridiculous-"
"I'm being ridiculous?" Frank exclaimed, not quite believing that Ryan was being like this. Shouting one thing at him minutes before and then coming back while completely contradicting himself. He knew that Ryan was being over-the-top with all of this. He clearly also wasn't letting it go and as much as Frank wanted this all to be dropped so they could move past it, he wasn't ready to move on from it.
"You're the one who is letting your boss of less than a week buy you expensive suits," Ryan said, making Frank groan, "You must be letting him do other things if he is willing to spend an inordinate amount of money on you."
"I didn't let him," Frank reminded Ryan, hoping to jog his memory so they weren't going to have to have this conversation all over again, "He saw what I was wearing and fixed it. For your information, I told him that he didn't have to do this for me."
"And he still bought you the suits?"
"He insisted," Frank told him, "He stopped me. He said something along the lines of 'when someone offers to do something for you and it means you keep your job, you take it'."
"Yeah, I bet you took it," Ryan shot back with venom laced into his voice. His comeback, especially after what Frank had said in the kitchen, was more pointed than ever, "I feel like I don't even know you anymore."
"So, I made one comment in the kitchen and now that is what you are focusing on?" Frank questioned, wondering what in the fuck was going on in Ryan's head. Frank knew that Ryan had stewed on all of this for the entire day, making it worse for himself. He scowled at the latter, "Can you blame me for saying it?"
"Well, the fact that you said it proves that something is going on," Ryan said quickly, making Frank feel the temperature rising in him again. The anger that he had got to calm down was bubbling up again. He knew that he had never lied to Ryan before, so how could he go from being a loving and trusting boyfriend to the crazy paranoid boyfriend that was standing near him, in three days?
"It doesn't prove anything."
"Of course it does," Ryan scoffed, "It proves everything."
"No, it proves that you're selfish." Frank fired back, making Ryan stop dead in his tracks and remain silent, "How can you be so frigid when all you've done in life is take it in the ass?"
"I'm not selfish." Ryan protested.
"Then, how come the only thing that's ever been in my ass is my own fingers?" Frank queried, making Ryan screw up his nose at his words.
"You're disgusting," Ryan spoke, "Trust you to turn this on to how you 'supposedly' get nothing out of this."
"Because I don't!" Frank snapped, finally feeling the need to let go of everything that he had ever held in from the moment Ryan had started with his need for routine and order in their relationship. The tight, held together coils inside of him finally snapped, letting go of everything that he had ever held back on, "For far too long, everything in this relationship has been done for you! Done by you. Your need for routine... It's insane! I have never known a person to be like you, so meticulous with everything in their life, even down to the way you have sex. Which, may I say, is a fucking rarity in itself."
"Here we go," Ryan threw his hands up in the air, "Frank has brought the topic of conversation onto the one thing he always thinks about. Sex. For God's sake... Is that really all you think about?"
"When I barely get any, yeah," Frank snorted, standing up to be face to face with Ryan. Frank hated standing to argue because Ryan was looking down at him like he was the problem in all of this. Frank knew he wasn't the problem but Ryan always turned his nose down on Frank as though he were a vial of smallpox, "You think I enjoy it when all we do is the same thing over and over again... And not even over and over again because it's not about me when it comes to sex. It's about you and what you want and when you want it. Only what you want and, wow, I get lucky one day a year when you decide that it's okay to do it differently. When it's okay to mix it up for once. Literally once."
"How dare you?" Ryan snapped, raising his voice again, something that Frank really didn't want happening. If he shouted then Frank shouted, and then it would all just get out of control again. He just wanted to sort this out once and for all but Ryan would never allow something like this to be settled calmly, "It is never always about me. If you want it to be different then talk to me. Actually tell me and we can talk about it."
"That's the thing, though, Ry," Frank shook his head., "I bring up ideas to mix it up and you just shoot me down. For God's sake, you're the only gay guy I know who doesn't even like sucking dick."
"Excuse me," Ryan jabbed a finger pointedly towards Frank, "I did last week, or have you forgotten about that?"
"Have I forgotten about the one time my boyfriend actually gave me oral?" Frank shot the question back, "No. I don't forget fucking miracles."
"Is this really what we are arguing about?" Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You and your lack of oral sex?"
"No!" Frank exclaimed, wondering if Ryan had taken a blow to the head since he had accused him, the moment he walked into the bedroom, not even half an hour ago, "We are arguing because you think I've been fucking my boss!"
"Which you still haven't denied." Ryan huffed out, giving Frank a knowing look that made him throw his hands up in the air.
"I told you that nothing is going on!" Frank repeated, finding it astounding that Ryan wasn't believing him. Over six years had really come to this. No trust? No belief in a word Frank was saying? There was a metaphorical towel and Frank knew he was close to throwing it, "What do I have to say that will make you believe me?"
"You don't have to say anything," Ryan told him, "I just don't know if I can trust you when this man is out there, throwing money at you when you have barely known him two weeks! Frank, he's grooming you! Clearly, he is doing this for a reason and I'm sure that reason involves you giving him something more than money for it!"
"Where the hell are you getting this from, Ryan?" Frank questioned, hoping to understand why Ryan was so set on the idea that this was happening behind his back. Had he lost a screw in his head and that was making him believe this bullshit that he had concocted? Frank took a step back, "I can't fucking work out why you're being like this? What the hell did I do to make you turn psycho all of a sudden."
"Don't call me that-"
"Then, don't act like it!" Frank shouted, making Ryan recoil a little because of the volume of his voice, "When I told you about the job, you went full-on about what we could do with the extra money. You were so happy about me taking the job."
"Yeah," Ryan snorted, "I was. Didn't know that your boss was going to be grooming you."
"God's sake, Ryan," Frank groaned, feeling like they were going round in circles. He couldn't do this; he was getting a headache from the small act of trying to be reasonable. Frank couldn't cope with it and he couldn't even bring himself to fix it anymore, "I can't fucking do this."
"What do you mean you 'can't fucking do this'?"
"I mean, I can't fucking do this anymore. You not believing me when I've been telling you the God's honest truth. You being so adamant that our relationship has to be done your way or no way. I just..."
Ryan faltered, "What?"
"I can't do this anymore." Frank sighed out, giving in to what felt right in his head. Finally admitting defeat after six years of trying so hard to make this work. It had worked, but those days were gone. He couldn't see it being worked out, especially when Ryan probably wouldn't trust him despite having not done a single thing wrong.
"What do you mean?" Ryan asked, frowning.
"I mean..." Frank started, trying to choose his words carefully because he knew that once he said what he wanted to say, there was going to be no going back from this at all. He scratched at the back of his neck, "I can't do us anymore, Ry."
"Wh-What do you mean 'us'?" Ryan stammered out, his cheeks flushing a mortified pink that Frank recognized. It was a shade of pink that didn't often feature on Ryan's face but when it did, it was instantly recognizable. Denial. The pink cheeks and furrowed brow that mixed in with his shifting eyes and fidgeting fingers. Denial's cocktail had been thrown back like a shot of whiskey and it was burning in Ryan's throat. He was refusing to accept the cards he had been dealt, unable to look at the numbers and realize he had lost his hand.
"I mean..." Frank sighed. He knew he had to be strong now that the words had been spoken. He had his exit; the door was wide open. He just had to walk through it alone, "Ryan, look at us. This is not healthy."
"I don't know what you mean." He said voice wavering. Frank recognized it immediately; the wobble in his voice was a sign that he was on the brink of crying. Ryan knew what he meant. Frank could tell. He hoped that Ryan wouldn't break down, even though he knew it was inevitable. Frank could never hold it together when Ryan started crying, it was always a chain reaction between the two of him. It didn't matter if Ryan was crying because of a movie or a bad day, if there were tears for one then there were tears for both..
"What, we have- Had, especially in high school. It worked. We worked then... But recently... It's just not the same anymore," Frank began because he knew this wasn't just going to be a simple talk before they both parted ways. He tried to avoid looking at Ryan. He could just picture the quiver on his bottom lip without looking at him"And now you accuse me- Tell me- That I'm sleeping with my new boss that I've been working with for less than a week. Dude, do you realize I've literally been working there for three days? Three days, Ryan. You What the hell happened, Ryan?"
"I don't know."
"I could cope with the routine, Ry, just," Frank spoke, glancing at him briefly for a moment before he looked back down at his hands, trying to find the right words in his head, "I did that for you because I know you like your routine. The same things day-in, day-out. Week after week. Month after month. Year- You can see where I'm going with this." Ryan sniffed, not saying a word. Frank closed his eyes after he heard Ryan, hoping and praying to God that he wasn't crying already, "I g-gave up so much to keep you happy... Trying not to p-pester for stuff that I knew you wouldn't want to do-"
"But you- you have been doing it recently," Ryan pointed out, "You made me uncomfortable... Bringing food into bed."
"I was trying to keep us going!" Frank told him, looking at Ryan who he knew was trying to come across as innocent. He had done nothing wrong even though he was the catalyst for all of this. He would never cheat on Ryan, never hurt him in that way. He saw the glistening tears and he looked away, "Do you know what it's like to be in a relationship where you don't know when your partner is actually going to want to be with you? Not knowing if it is a good thing, or a bad thing, if your boyfriend says 'no' to sex on a regular basis?"
"It's all you ever want!"
"Because I'm deprived of it! You took something away from me that we used to love. You took away my freedom with it, telling me how it was going to be, on your terms alone." Frank carried on, watching Ryan bow his head down, staring at his hands because he couldn't bring himself to look at the one person who was supposed to love him. Now tearing apart what he thought had been working for so long. Clearly not now.
"I thought you were happy," Ryan said weakly, a shuddering breath made his shoulders shake and sag as he looked at his shoes.
"I was, we were," Frank told him, taking in a breath, collecting himself before continuing, "But this can't go on like this. Ryan..." He looked down, "Ry, I'm sorry. I can't do this, I really want to say that it's not you, it's me... But, then, I would be lying and just..."
"It's over. Isn't it?" Ryan asked. The atmosphere in the room and the way Frank was talking, it was obvious. Frank couldn't even bring himself to say 'yes'. It was over. The nod Frank give him, avoiding eye contact while he did, it was enough for Ryan. Neither of them said anything for a minute. The room remained silent as the news sunk in.
Frank was preparing himself for what was possibly going to come. He knew that Ryan wasn't going to take the 'it's over' and walk away with just that. Frank knew that he would want reasons and answers. Ryan would still try to make out that Frank was partially, if not completely, to blame for this break up happening.
"So, you're leaving me for him?"
Frank couldn't believe what he had just heard. The fact that those words actually left Ryan's mouth in the first place. He was astounded that Ryan was being so stubborn and so adamant that he knew what was going on. Frank just stood there, looking at Ryan, watching him in sheer amazement. He stared at Ryan incredulously, "I can't believe you sometimes-"
"You're not denying it-"
"I'm not leaving you for my boss!" Frank shouted, making Ryan flinch and yelp, looking down, "I'm leaving you because I swear to God you're fucking crazy!"
"Don't call me that!"
"Don't fucking act like a crazy bitch, then!" Frank shouted again. He assumed that there would be tears from Ryan, but not more of this. Frank couldn't take it. How the fuck would they have been able to come back from this if Frank hadn't ended it all. Ryan saw red, needing to vent, needing to let Frank know exactly how he felt. He was so furious, so upset, so everything that was mixing in him and running on high. He grabbed a nearby vase, letting out a scream before he threw it in Frank's direction.
Frank luckily dodged the projectile, cursing when the vase hit the wall behind him, smashing into a thousand many pieces that he would not be cleaning up. Ryan was being so bombastic over something that wasn't even true. The very idea that Frank was leaving him for Gerard, Ryan had completely lost his fucking mind. He had to retaliate, fight fire with fire as he grabbed the nearest thing to him- The bowl on the coffee table. Frank flung it at Ryan, fighting back. The bowl flew through the air, missing Ryan and smashing on the kitchen floor. What Frank hadn't noticed, in his fit of anger, was that the bowl hadn't been empty. Trust him to go and throw the one thing that was full of Ryan's fucking stupid potpourri. The shit that was dotted everywhere around the house, it was now all over the floor.
"The fuck is wrong with you?!" Frank shouted at Ryan, taking in a breath, trying to calm himself down. That wasn't happening anytime soon. \ Frank was livid over the fact that Ryan had been the one to throw first.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Ryan snapped back, still shocked that Frank had actually thrown something at him.
"You!" Frank bellowed, anger firing out in his words. Frank felt exhausted from all of this; the fight and throwing; the shouting and the ending, He ran his hands through his hair, pacing the room while Ryan watched him, stewing away.
"That could have gone in my eye!"
"Yeah, well, maybe then you'll see sense!" Frank shot back before standing still in the middle of the living room. Silence fell again, the air in the room calmed. There was still tension, but at least they weren't shouting at each other. Frank was grateful for that because Ryan was starting to give him a headache.
"What happened to us?" Ryan asked, breaking the silence. He had taken a moment to calm down, looking at the pieces of potpourri scattered around him on the floor. Looking up to Frank, Ryan didn't know where they had gone wrong. He thought everything was okay before now.
"We grew up," Frank said, looking back at Ryan, "Maybe we worked when we were in high school. Maybe that was all it should have been."
"Well," Ryan snorted at him, "I can safely say that one of us grew up."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Frank frowned, not sure if Ryan was insulting him or not.
"I grew up," Ryan pointed a finger at his own chest, "We moved in together and I grew up. I took responsibility. I became an adult while you just stayed stuck in high school. You stayed exactly how you used to be back then."
"I grew up!" Frank exclaimed, shocked that Ryan was actually insulting him like this, "I grew up just as much as you did! I took responsibility. I got a job to support us. We moved in and started an adult relationship and I went with it. I grew up for you!"
"That's the thing," Ryan sighed, shaking his head, "You grew up for us... But did you actually really grow up for yourself?"
"I did!" Frank reassured him, "I just didn't become a middle-aged man before my time. At least, I still have my youth and a fucking sense of humor, unlike you, you fucking..." Frank couldn't think of an insult. So angry, he just said the first thing that popped into his head, "You bitch-tit."
Ryan recoiled at the insult, screwing up his face in confusion, "And, what the fuck pray-tell, is a bitch tit?"
Frank scowled at Ryan, annoyed at how he was being so fucking persnickety over the minor details, "It's a saggy, overused dog tit, you bitch-tit."
"See, this is proof that you haven't grown up," Ryan spoke, getting incensed at how immature Frank was being. Ryan was not having it, "You're still the emo kid that I remember from high school. I mean, what adult, in their right mind, goes around calling their other half a 'bitch tit'?"
"An ex-other half," Frank said pointedly, deflating Ryan a little bit, "Fine. Let's say you grew up more than I did. Do you not see what it did to me?"
"I don't understand..."
"You grew up wanting everything that life could give you," Frank started, hoping that Ryan would understand without having to actually spell it all out for him, "I grew up, but I take every day as it comes. I never planned out my future as meticulously as you did."
"And what's wrong with wanting to plan for my future?"
"What's wrong with it?" Frank almost snarled, "You got so wrapped up in what you wanted, you didn't take into consideration what I wanted."
"I always took your feelings into consideration!"
"Oh, please," Frank snorted, shaking his head, "Remember when I told you that I got offered the job? The first thing you went to was 'commitment'. You talked about us getting engaged. You talked about it like you already had it planned out in your head."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Ryan queried, "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I knew that. So is it such a bad thing that I suggested we get engaged? I thought you wanted that, too." Frank didn't say anything. He just looked at Ryan, giving him a sad, apologetic look that told him exactly how Frank felt about what he wanted. Ryan bit his lip, his eyes widening as a sheepish expression twisted his features, "You didn't want that... Did you?"
"I don't like being pressured into things like that," Frank explained, "The fact that I also found your work notebook where you practiced your signature with my surname..." Ryan blushed brightly at that. He had no idea that Frank knew about that, "...That terrified me because you were ready and I was nowhere near ready for that kind of commitment. You became so full-on that you pushed me away."
"I never meant to," Ryan told him, his voice small, getting smaller while he fought back on what was threatening to spill from his eyes.
"But you still did... And then the way you reacted over my boss buying me suits... Coming into his office and sitting with him, for fuck sake."
"That's weird and you know it," Ryan groused, standing his ground when he looked down at what Frank was still wearing; one of the black shirts and the black pants that Gerard had bought him.
"It's not weird," Frank insisted, "Stop thinking it is. He was just helping me out. And, please, stop thinking that I'm sleeping with him. I would never do that to you and you should've known it."
"But you're still leaving me."
"And, I'm not leaving you for him. I'm leaving you because..." Frank couldn't finish his sentence. He knew exactly why he was leaving Ryan. He had told him but summarising it into a few words, it just felt so bad. As much as Frank wanted out, he didn't want to hurt Ryan. Yes, Ryan had hurt him, but Frank didn't need to see the waterworks on Ryan or he, too, would end up crying. Six years just went down the drain; he was leaving Ryan, but this was still hurting him, too.
"Because?"
"I told you, Ry," Frank sighed, "You know why."
"But I wanted a life with you," Ryan whispered, his voice edged on a plea, showing that even after the way he had been, there were still feelings there. Ryan still wanted a future with Frank, "You were my white picket fence, Frankie. I wanted to be your husband."
"Ryan," Frank groaned, "I don't want that. The idea of committing for life, to that life... That scares the shit out of me. I never promised that I would spend forever with you. I loved you, but I never wanted that kind of commitment. I never wanted to be tied down like that. I don't want a husband and a nice house in the suburbs. I don't want a minivan and kids. I don't want the picket fence and the PTA meetings. That's you, not me."
"But, I love you..." Ryan said, voice small and broken like he was close to breaking down, hoping that his admittance would save them from the inevitable.
"I loved you," Frank returned, the three words barely making it passed his lips, "But after what you accused me of, and how we have ended up, I just... Ry, can't you see how stale we got?"
"I thought we were fine."
"We were, back when we first started dating, but recently we've just got so stagnant. Our routine and everything..." Frank spoke, remembering what Gerard had told him in the office. The quote that rang so true right now, "I got told once that adventure is dangerous but routine is lethal. Your routine has killed the relationship. Your need for-"
"That's Paulo Coelho," Ryan cut Frank off, recognizing the quote immediately. He narrowed his eyes at him. Frank didn't seem like the kind of person to know anything about Coelho, let alone any of his quotes, "How do you know about him? When have you ever given a shit about Brazilian literature?"
"I just do," Frank answered quickly, knowing that if he told Ryan about what Gerard had offered, it would not go down well at all. A sure-fire way to make Ryan blow up like a volcano.
"He told you, didn't he?" Ryan assumed. Frank didn't want to answer. He didn't need to answer. Ryan still blew up, throwing his hands in the air because Frank had been unbelievable, "You've talked to your boss about us?" Ryan screamed at Frank, disgusted over the idea of their private lives being common knowledge for Gerard now.
"I haven't told him shit," Frank lied, "He asked me about overtime on Tuesday night. I told him why I couldn't on Tuesday night and then he came out with that quote."
"Oh, so, what we do in our relationship is up for public discussion?" Ryan continued his tirade, livid at Frank, "You just talk to your boss of what, three days, about us? Did you talk to him about breaking up with me?"
"What the fuck, Ry, no!"
"I don't believe you!"
"Well, there's a fucking surprise," Frank feigned shock, "'Ryan doesn't believe me. Ryan doesn't believe that I've come to this conclusion all by myself because you have been a fucking nightmare to date.'"
"Do you think it's been easy dating you, too?" Ryan shot back, annoyed, "What with you and your insatiable sex drive. I swear you have a problem."
"Are you suggesting that I have a sex addiction?" Frank shot back, flabbergasted that Ryan could even suggest something like that. He knew he was normal. Maybe his drive was a little higher, but that was probably only because Ryan barely had a sex drive at all, "This coming from the person who thinks sex once a week, if that, is completely normal."
"That is normal."
"No, it's not!" Frank exclaimed, "You have no interest in sex. It makes me wonder if you're asexual."
"I like sex," Ryan insisted, "I just don't like it when I'm pressured into it."
"I have never pressured you-"
"Bullshit," Ryan snorted derisively, "Shall I list the times you've practically begged me to have sex with you?" Frank blushed, feeling ashamed of the fact that he was in a relationship with a person and still he had to beg for intimacy. It should never have been like that. Not that he had any other experience, but it just seemed logical. Be in a happy relationship, have a happy sex life, "You're still the immature, horny teenager that I remember from high school."
"Having a sex drive is not a problem!" Frank snapped, "You're the problem! You're the reason that I'm breaking up with you."
"Oh, so, if I didn't grow up and if I still straightened my hair and wore eyeliner then we'd still be together?" Ryan snorted out mockingly. Frank just stood there, completely bewildered that Ryan even went there with that. It was the stupidest thing he had said all evening. How did he think that saying something like that would make this situation any better? Frank just stood there, mouth hanging open in shock while he watched Ryan. This was why he was leaving him- Along with everything else, these were the rusted nails in the coffin.
"Not the point."
"I grew up and changed," Ryan continued, folding his arms across his chest, "I wasn't your little emo boyfriend anymore. You don't want me as much because I'm not the same person that you had back then." Fucking astounded, Frank could not believe that Ryan was saying this. After everything, it was like he was turning this onto Frank. Making this break up his fault when it really wasn't.
"Well, I can assure you that eyeliner is not going to fix this," Frank told him, pacing the living room again.
"So, this is it?" Ryan asked, watching Frank, "We're just going to take a break and cool down?" He was holding onto hope. Ryan clung on, hoping that Frank would see some sort of sense and they could work through this.
"No, Ryan," Frank spoke, stopping in the middle of the sitting room, "This isn't us taking a break. This is us breaking up. We're done."
Ryan nodded at that, sniffing, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall now. It couldn't be over, Frank couldn't be leaving him. He was, but Ryan hoped that Frank would realize that he had made a mistake. Ryan had made a mistake and all would be forgiven. They would still be together because even after everything, Ryan still loved Frank. That wouldn't change.
"Ry," Frank sighed when Ryan couldn't hold it back anymore. He bit his bottom lip, trying to fight his emotions, but he just couldn't when they all came spilling out, tears streaming down his cheeks. Ryan was heartbroken, "Please don't cry. Y-You know what happens when you cry." If Ryan started then he would start; the way Ryan cried, all sobbing and whimpering, it got to Frank; to the point that Frank could feel his eyes stinging already.
"Don't."
"R-Ryan, please, I'm s-sorry." Frank apologies, voice wobbling already as he lost control of his emotions. Ryan was full-blown crying already, nose running and eyes streaming as Frank took a step towards him, "I'm so sorry it had to h-happen like this."
"You c-can't just eh-end us like this," Ryan whimpered, hiding his face behind his ring-littered hands, "We- We've been together for s-so long. Frank, we c-can sort this out."
"There is nothing to sort out," He told him, trying to steady himself, "I said my part and I don't want to do this anymore."
"Frank, I am not g-giving up on us j-just because you made your mind up," Ryan sniffed, "We- We can get through this together. Frank, please. Sweetheart, please, I-"
"Ryan, stop."
Ryan put his hands in his hair, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, that unique shade of denial-rider pink returning to his cheeks, "I won't stop until we're okay."
"I said stop it!" Frank snapped, unable to deal with Ryans pleading and begging. Frank knew that it was over, Ryan just had to realize that nothing he said, no amount of begging or pleading or reassuring that 'everything would be different', would change what had happened.
"I'm sorry, Ry," Frank apologized again, wiping his eyes dry even though he was still crying. Ryan was full-blown sobbing now, "I j-just can't do this anymore and..." Frank reached out a hand to Ryan, "Even if we did stay together, it still wouldn't w-work out because we both want different things. You know that, Ry."
Ryan flinched away when Frank tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Scowling at Frank, he didn't want his sympathy. Both of them were crying now. The break up had turned out just how Frank hadn't wanted it to end. It was supposed to be easy, but Frank guessed that breaking up with someone who still claims to love you is never easy. Even after the accusations, this was never going to be easy. Ryan took a step away, walking away from Frank who was wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He sniffed, scowling ruefully as he shrugged on his coat.
"What are you doing?" Frank asked, fighting through tears to see Ryan going for his car keys, "Ryan?" He didn't answer, he didn't even look back at Frank while he checked that he had his phone and wallet. Within seconds he was stuffing them into his jacket pockets, still ignoring Frank's questions. He headed to the door, opening it, all the while he still ignored Frank and his tears.
A few seconds later the door was slammed shut and Ryan was gone, leaving Frank alone in the aftermath of what he had done. Frank stood in the living room, not moving a muscle. He heard the sound of Ryan's car being started, followed by the sound of tires moving on gravel. He was going God knows where. Frank took in a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down so the tears would stop. He knew that he shouldn't have been crying. He had come to the decision to break up with Ryan all by himself. But crying was inevitable and Frank knew that. Ryan cried, so, of course, he would also cry.
That wave of sobs was calming down when he had heard Ryan drive off, and now he was alone in their silent house. It was no longer a home because of what Frank had done to them. He took a moment to breathe; the tears were drying up now and Frank felt calmer. This had been a long time coming, he knew that. Ryan had just pushed him towards his decision a lot quicker. Frank sighed, finally moving from where he had been standing. He took a moment to assess what had happened, looking at everything that no longer mattered. Everything that the two of them had bought. It no longer was a home. That sheen had been wiped away now. All dulled down and old, no longer important. And the vase. Frank stopped, looking down at the broken shards of the item that Ryan had thrown at him. For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to take his eyes away from it; fixated on the small pieces. It was like it had set something off in his head, a fuse had been lit and the moment took over, he couldn't shake it from his head. All of a sudden Frank felt weak, his own emotions spiraling faster than he could reel them in.
He crumbled when his actions finally set in. Throwing away six years because of everything he couldn't deal with anymore. He was relieved that he was out of it, but he still had loved Ryan. He still felt sad that it was over and that was why he collapsed to the floor, crying all over again, properly crying. Not just because Ryan had cried and set him off. Actually letting go of what he had done. knowing that he was alone now to ugly cry. He wiped snot away from his nose as he sat amongst the bits of potpourri that he threw, staring at the one thing that had set him off, bringing clarity and heartache all at the same time. The stupid vase.
Frank sat there for God knows how long. Ryan never returned and all he could do was continue to cry. Continue to realize that this was it for him and it was over. Relief and pain. Despair and hope. It could only get better from now on, Frank just had to get through this, even though all he could do right now was cry amongst the remains of what they once had.
"Just hand in your notes and your press badge, and collect your week's pay, Frank. We're letting you go. And Ryan wants you to know he's not sorry for spending the past two nights here." Danielle replied with a sigh before hanging up. Frank looked at his phone as the dial tone beeped into his ear. He sighed, locking the device and chucking it beside him on the sofa when he brought his legs up against his chest, his toes curling slightly over the end of the cushion.
That was where it all started. That was the moment Frank had now pinpointed where everything had gone downhill. Frank didn't want to cry, he wasn't going to, something inside him hadn't snapped yet, hadn't broken him enough to cry, yet again. He merely sat there, staring into space at the beige-colored wall ahead of him. It was as though it hasn't sunken in yet. Even after the fight, the argument, the ways in which Frank tried to explain how he felt to Ryan. He could still remember Ryan's face, the image burned into the back of his mind as they fought about something as juvenile as a job. Frank hadn't even considered it properly before Ryan had told. Or the way Ryan had acted about Frank's new employer. Frank felt as though he was well within his rights to be livid- Disappointed? But this was so much worse, things had spiraled way more than it ever had between them.
He could still see shards of porcelain from the vase that had almost hit him, a small crack in the wall where it had impacted beside his head. The entire house that had once been so happy and bright now seemed to hold its own dark and melancholy cloud above its roof. Frank got up, looking around at everything. At every piece of his life that he and Ryan had started together. It wasn't like he and Ryan had lived separately before moving in together from their own apartments. They both moved in together from their parents' houses and bought everything together.
The sofa was bought together, the TV set, their bed, every photo frame, every candle, and every pillow. Even the cups and plates. Frank wanted none of it, he couldn't bear the thought of having to look at any of it, or at the house. He had to get away, he had to find someone to help him, someone who would understand, someone he could count on in times like this. And he knew exactly who he wanted. He reached over the back of the sofa and grabbed his phone, opening his contacts before scrolling right to where he wanted to be. He dialed Jamia's number, pressing the phone to his ear as he prayed for her to answer, silently begging.
"Hey, you," She answered cheerily, making Frank flinch to himself and his bottom lip quiver.
"Nez- I..." Frank began, the tears suddenly caught in his eyes, surprising him, "I need somewhere to crash."
"How come? Trouble in paradise?" She asked and Frank let out a whimper, nodding despite being alone in the house.
"Y-Yeah..." Frank sniffed, "Ry and I... We.."
"What is it, Poptart?" Jamia asked and Frank let out a small sob, sliding down the wall in the living room as the tears spilled over and down his cheeks.
"I ended it wi-with Ryan. Or- Or he ended it with me. I-I don't even know what happened. I said all the things but, he left..." Frank managed over barely a whisper, being met with silence.
"Why, Poptart?" She eventually asked and Frank shook his head.
"I just... Please can I stay with you? I don't w-wanna stay here. I have n-no one else."
"Of course." Jamia said with a smile, "You come around whenever you want, Poptart. You know I'm home now on maternity leave."
"Oh, yeah." Frank sniffed, remembering that his best friend was about to pop, "I'll pack a bag and see you later."
Frank sighed, instantly feeling guilty. He had completely forgotten that Jamia was pregnant for the moment. He could still remember when she had told him. A week before he had found out about the bun in her oven. It was just after his birthday when Jamia had phoned him in complete hysterics, making him freak out at work and drop three huge files he had meant to be working on all over the floor before he had spent God knows how long picking up and refiling. He had shown up at her house, having begged for a half-day, to find the front door wide open and to see her sitting at the kitchen table. She was sitting there, her face red and swollen and her eyes still puffy.
She hadn't spoken for ages as Frank sat watching her stare off into the distance before she finally spoke, telling Frank that her boyfriend had left. Jimmy had been her boyfriend for a little over a year now and they had even talked about moving in together. But that had come to an end when Jamia had come home early from work to find her black fauxhawk-haired boyfriend in bed with her blonde-haired BFF Chantal. She had told Frank how they had argued, how Jimmy had admitted he had been seeing Chantal for almost four months at the time.
Frank was furious, he was so angry that he was shaky, ready to lunge on the older guy when Jamia managed to calm Frank down, making sure to explain to him that if Frank went to jail for beating up Jimmy, that she would have no one to be there for her. It worked. For a week.
A week later was when Frank found out. He was busy rifling through her trash, looking for the bracelet that had slipped off of his wrist when he had thrown away the massive pizza box. He continued rifling, coming across the two positive tests. He pushed it aside as he found the bracelet he was looking for, a gift from Ryan for his birthday made out of leather with a steel engraved pumpkin on the front. He went over to Jamia, who was stirring her hot chocolate and held out his hand, the test in his palm. She looked down at it and up at him, her bottom lip quivering as tears welled up in her brown eyes. She jumped him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug as she sobbed, knocking the test out of his hand, sending it skittering across the floor. Frank stood there, hugging and holding her, consoling her as she cried- not quite registering.
Frank had yet again felt fury rising up in his chest at the thought that Jimmy had left her in this state, but he had found out that Jimmy didn't even know. Jamia had gone to tell him when she had found him in bed with Chantal and she had decided not to rain on his parade even more. And that made Frank even more upset, that Jamia wouldn't want to tell Jimmy, wouldn't want to make his living child a burden in his frivolity.
Frank wanted to kill him, he had never felt so much hatred for one person before. And he had persuaded Jamia to tell Jimmy. She did. It did nothing, Jimmy wasn't interested in the slightest, breaking Jamia into smaller and smaller pieces that Frank had spent the past seven months fixing back into place as best he could.
And now the tables had turned. It was Frank who was having the relationship crisis, Frank who was close to breaking, Frank who needed a hand and a shoulder. And a bed. Frank pocketed his phone as he looked around, realizing that the sun was already coming up, it was Thursday morning and he hadn't slept a wink, there was no way he would be able to sleep now. Or work.
Frank let out a groan at the thought of work and bit his lip, looking at the clock on the wall that was currently reading six-thirty. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again and began typing out a text for his new boss, biting on his lip. He froze in his tracks, reading over his text before he cleared it all, sighing as he pressed 'dial' and set his phone up to his ear, bringing his knees up to his chest.
"Frank, good morning," Gerard answered almost immediately, sounding effectively awake.
"Hi, sir." Frank tried to speak, his voice cracking embarrassingly, making him cringe hard as he withheld the urge to sigh, "Hope I didn't interrupt."
"Not at all, I just got home from a jog. How can I help you this fine morning?" Gerard asked with a heavy breath and Frank felt his body clench at the thought of telling Gerard what had happened.
"I-I don't think I can make it into the office today," Frank began, hearing his voice waver slightly and threaten to crack as he paused himself, tears blurring his vision, "I'm sorry- I know it's bad to take off in the first month of working, but I-"
"Are you alright, boy?" Gerard asked, sounding the taddest concerned, the sounded inflection in his voice had Frank wanting to cry even more.
"I-" He didn't know how to answer considering the fact that he definitely wasn't alright, but this was also his boss on the phone and Frank couldn't decide between lying and honesty, "Y-Yeah."
"Are you lying to me?" Gerard asked simply and Frank shuddered quietly as he fiddled with a loose strand at the bottom of his shirt.
"I'm having personal problems that I need to sort out today. I-I would come in if I could, but..." He trailed off, unsure of how to tell Gerard that he most likely had to move out of his home of six years because his boyfriend had run out and he, Frank, had finally ended their relationship.
"Don't worry. You aren't productive at the office if you can't concentrate on anything. Take today off and get yourself sorted. I'll have Josh fill in for you- That's what he's there for, in any case."
"Th-Thank you, sir..." Frank's voice wobbled at how considerate Gerard was being with him, "I really appreciate it."
"Thank you for letting me know." Gerard said simply and Frank nodded to himself, "I have to go. Take care of yourself, boy."
"I will, sir," Frank muttered as Gerard hung up, leaving him in silence again. Frank stared up at the ceiling before he carefully made his way up the stairs and into their bedroom. Frank looked around the room, surveying, realizing that he would never sleep in it again, never be in it again. Everything seeming so final now.
He reached into the top of the wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase, packing in literally anything he could. He folded up his pants and his shirts and whatever else he could into his one and only suitcase. He went for his underwear in a drawer and froze, staring at a small box that was sitting there hidden in his socks. He had never seen it before and it certainly intrigued him as he slid a finger over the black velvet before opening it. He stared down at the simple platinum band in the box and felt every sinew in his body tense as tears welled up.
It must have been Ryan's, it must have been for their anniversary that was coming up, whether it was the real deal or just a token of affection, Frank didn't know. Although, he did know now that he was feeling sick. He closed the box, setting it down on the top of the chest of drawers before he piled his socks and underwear into his suitcase. He stopped as the tears dissipated for the thousandth time and looked back behind him over his shoulder at the ring, frowning.
If it were a surprise for him from Ryan, what was it doing in his underwear drawer? Unless... Frank straightened up and looked at it, his mind running with possibilities. Ryan could have put it in the wrong drawer, Ryan could have gotten it for Frank to give to him as a hint. Or, Ryan could have put it there before their argument as a guilt trip, a jab at Frank to add to the mush-fest that had awaited him at his office that Wednesday. Either thought made Frank angrier than he was before, and he threw the box across the room, sending it flying into the bathroom, hitting the side of the cabinet and skittering out of sight. He stuffed his shoes into the suitcase on top of his clothing with more violence than necessary.
He looked at what was left of his clothing that wouldn't fit into his overstuffed suitcase and wandered back to the wardrobe, grabbing the old duffel bag he had used in high school for his gym kit. He set it on the bed and shoved whatever else he could into the bag, filling every single crevice before zipping it shut with some difficulty. He lay his new suit and the other empty garment bag on top of his bag- Having not even had the energy to change from his work clothes yet- Scowling in annoyance at them before he lay a hand on one of them, feeling an instant shade of guilt over his stomach.
He looked around as he took off his bracelet from Ryan and chucked it on the bed, sliding on his watch that had sat on his bedside table. Frank grabbed his laptop bag and checked everything in it before setting it with his stuff, putting his phone charger in the front pocket. He stared at the photo of him and Ryan in high school, looking at the giddy faces of the two younger boys.
He looked at Ryan with his straightened brown hair and thick black eyeliner, and he looked at himself with his hideous orange mohawk. He looked away, grabbing the photo in his hands before he threw it with every last bit of his energy. He sunk to the floor in a flurry of sobs as the picture frame hit the wall and splintered. He gripped his hair as he cried, sliding off of the bed that he completely missed, landing on his ass with his legs splayed and bent awkwardly. The tears ran in floods down his cheeks, burning his already tear-stained cheeks and soaking into his black shirt. He whimpered brokenly as his head lolled back on his shoulders, resting on the bed as he cried, his heart aching and seemingly in a thousand pieces in his chest, mimicking the shrapnel and debris that lay around him.