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bromple · 3 hours ago

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Kingdon Macrofic: Jellyfish

WC: 2605

@kingdonmacrofic

Mel reminded herself on the school bus that she was not to talk about jellyfish. Her mother told her that jellyfish talk was strictly prohibited. Only if the conversation called for it, she could share one fact. It was not good to monopolize conversation, especially on topics that didn't interest people.

But how was Mel supposed to make friends at a new school? What if someone asked her what she was into? Mom told her to pick “safe topics” like movies, books, music. Mel did like those things so it wasn't so bad.

Her mom had clearly been dying to say something about her outfit but mercifully refrained. The T-shirt was too big and it looked like a graphic from an encyclopedia, of course, about the types of jellyfish. Mel didn't want to wear the new jeans her mom bought because denim was rough on her skin. Her high-waisted, bottle-green corduroys were worn in and comfortable.

“Bye, Mom.” Mel managed to croak. When Mel boarded the bus to Pitt Middle School, the kids just stared. They pushed backpacks to the edge of the seats to keep her from sitting with them. Mel had no choice but to go all the way to the back. Someone giggled that the new girl was gonna get squished by Fatty Frank.

The bus pulled up to a rather rundown, old house. The creepiest looking old lady sat on a rocking chair, staring straight at the bus with the biggest scowl on her face. Mel shuddered, thinking this Baba Yaga-looking lady could see into her soul.

A large boy stood by the mailbox, shuffling to the bus. Mel observed they matched somewhat. He wore a black, oversized T shirt with a hair metal band on it. His bottle green shorts went above the knee slightly and had a hole in the middle of the thigh. The shorts appeared a bit tight on him. His black sneakers had holes in them too and his backpack was threadbare on the straps.

As soon as he got on the bus, Mel's heart clenched. She knew that look from anywhere. It was the same look on her face when she looked at herself in the mirror. It was a face too young to be marred with disappointment and hopelessness. Kids began snickering as he walked past. One boy took out a straw and began pelting the boy with spitballs, his laughter sounding like a braying donkey. The lumbering boy didn't look back. A few others snorted like pigs as he passed them.

Mel didn't know how he didn't burst into tears or run off the bus. This boy, quiet and sad, was the bravest person she had ever seen. He bore the indignities and humiliation so much better than Mel ever would.

His sad expression changed when he saw her. The boy’s brows furrowed but said nothing. He sat beside her and Mel hugged her backpack to herself.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

“Why?”

“I'm in your seat.”

“ ‘S’ok. It's a free country. Sit where you want but you're gonna get laughed at if you talk to me.”

“At my old school, you'd get laughed at for talking to me.”

He turned and looked at her. Mel was stunned to see his eyes were like the ocean. The ocean was her favorite place in the whole world. She wondered if he had ever been.

“Sorry. For the kids laughing at you at your old school. It sucks.”

“Are you Fatty Frank?”

Oh no, Mel thought with mounting horror. What was she thinking to say that out loud? The boy did nothing to her and now she insulted him? No wonder Mel had no friends. She didn't mean to say it. Mel just liked when words shared letters like when Mamaw Kaye called her Marvelous Mel. It sounded musical in her head.

But the boy didn't get mad. He just sighed and said, “Yeah…that's me. I promise, I won't eat you, even if that's what people told you.”

“I don't think it's true. Cannibalism is illegal and you'd be in jail if you ever did that.”

The boy actually smiled then. “Yeah. Yeah, that's right.” Smiling looked good on him. It made Mel want to smile too. “But they're not smart so they didn't think it through.”

Mel lowered her voice in a conspiratorial way, “They're like bony-eared assfishes. They have small brains on the scale to their bodies. The fish weigh 40 grams and their brains are 30 mg.”

He actually laughed. “Is that a real fish?! You're just playing!”

“I'm not! It's in my Species of the Deep book! Look!”

Mel unzipped her backpack and pulled out the heavy book. Her face warmed when she heard him whisper, “Woah…”

He stared at the pictures with awe, hesitantly turning the pages as if afraid he'd tear them. “This is so cool.”

When Frank turned to the section on jellyfishes, the page looked…well, a little worse for wear. There were chocolate fingerprints and the pages crinkled from dried liquids.

“Jellyfishes are your favorite, huh?”

“Yeah. How'd you know?”

“This looks like the most loved section of the book. The more wrinkled and stained, the more loved. That's what my Nana used to say.”

Mel bit her lip. “Was…was she the old lady on your porch?”

“Nope. That's Koschei the Deathless. I'm kidding. It's the neighbor across the street. She watches me and makes sure I get to school because my ma has to work early.”

It delighted Mel that he was familiar with Slavic mythology. When she told him that she thought Baba Yaga at first, he seemed equally pleased. However, Koschei the Deathless made the most sense since Frank told her that his neighbor used to babysit his mother and was old back then too.

Maybe Mel’s mother was right in a way. Things were going to be different here because Frank was the first nice person that she met. When the bus pulled into the school, he offered to show her where the office was so she could get her class assignments. The secretary smiled warmly at Frank, calling him her favorite helper. However, he blushed a little when she said that. The secretary handed him an envelope. “Forgot to give you this on Friday. Sorry it’s late.”

He hastily tucked it into his backpack, avoiding Mel’s curious expression.

“I’ll write you a pass, hon. Can you show our new addition to her classes, please?”

Frank had four shared classes with her and they had the same lunch block. Mel’s shoulders sagged with relief when Frank pointed that out. As he showed her where her classes were, Mel couldn’t handle the burning curiosity anymore.

“What was that envelope the secretary gave you?”

Frank looked at his shoes and fiddled with his fraying backpack strap. Mel wanted to kick herself. Her need to know things always got her into trouble. She should have left him alone because now the only nice person was going to hate her.

“Well, I guess I might as well tell you before you hear rumors. My mom worked out a deal with the school. I help out in the office and library because she’s gotta work three jobs. I use the money to put on my school card for breakfast and lunch.”

Then Frank lowered his voice, “You can’t tell anyone this but I don’t always put the full amount on the card. I use it so I can buy food for my little brother and sister.”

Mel bit her lip. “Then…then what do you do if you run out of money before you get paid? Will the school give you more?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t eat.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Frank looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please. Please, you can’t tell anyone. I could–”

“I promise. I promise I’ll never tell.” Mel said firmly. The relief was palpable and he smiled again. Mel didn’t know why she liked it so much when he did.

As he walked her to the gymnasium (her third period class), Frank gestured with his head to her shirt. “Which one is your favorite?”

“What?”

“Which jellyfish is your favorite?”

Now it was Mel’s turn to go quiet. She mumbled, kicking away a pebble, “I’m not supposed to talk about jellyfishes unless it’s very important and I can only share one fact. If I don’t, then I am monopolizing the conversation on subjects that are not interesting to anyone.”

Frank looked at her as if she became a jellyfish. “Uh…”

“My mom said that. She said that I needed to try to do things differently here because I can’t keep switching schools.”

“Why’d you leave your old school?”

“I didn’t fit in. My teachers said I cry too much. I am not good at transitions. I don’t know when to leave people alone. I talk too much about jellyfish and other things that nobody else likes.”

Frank was silent. He scratched the back of his neck. “Tell you what, you can talk to me about jelly fish if you don’t tell anybody about what I do with the money.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah! We don’t have very many books at home and our TV is always busted. It’s a good way for me to learn too, you know.”

“OK!” Mel beamed. Frank pointed to the jellyfish on her left side. “That one’s pretty cool. Which one is he?”

“That’s a Cassieopeid. Most people call them upside-down jellyfish. Did you know that they create their own water currents to propel and when they want to turn, the bell-shaped part makes a whirlpool and it breaks through from the pressure of the oral arms? That means they are in constant flow with water above them.”

Oh dear. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she went too far. This was a boring fact and she did the thing that girls like Annie Walker, Ella Butler, or Jasmine Davies used to laugh at her for. She talked way too fast, spittle flew from her mouth, and she stood way too close to Frank. Her hands were two seconds away from hitting him in the face.

“Is it named for the sea nymph, Cassiopeia?” Frank wanted to know.

Wait…why was he not getting weirded out by her? Why was he not making excuses to get away?

“Uh…I don’t know. Who is Cassiopeia?”

Frank ducked his head. “I really like mythology. The librarian doesn’t care if I come in during lunch and read there.”

As he walked her around the school, Frank shared a great number of mythological connections to the various ocean animals that Mel talked about. Had there ever been anyone in Mel’s life that showed interest in her like this? Mel didn’t think so but it appeared that Frank didn’t have that either. He was equally eager to share and talk to her.

That night, when Mel lay in bed, she wondered what Frank was going to be in her life. For the first time in years, Mel felt hopeful. This was going to be something special, she could feel it.

Years later, Mel thought it was funny how the big moments in their lives went back to their nerdy interests. After that first day of school, Frank, without fail, asked her for a daily jellyfish fact. He always told her a mythological legend. The first gift Frank got her for Christmas was a hand carved jellyfish he made in shop class. She got him a book with several authors reinterpreting the character of Medusa. Frank gave her a special nickname of “Melly-fish” and she called him “Prometheus” after they read “Frankenstein; Or a Modern Prometheus” in school.

When Frank began running and competing on the Track and Field Team, he would draw a small jellyfish on his bib and hip number tag. His nickname on the team became “Stinger” because of how bad it hurt when he breezed past his competition. When he did his first interview for the local news, he immediately said he wanted people to think jelly-fish. Why, people asked, but Frank smiled and said, “My best friend is obsessed. It’s a little nod to her.”

As for Mel, running was not necessarily her strong suit but swimming was. Mel would spend hours in the local YMCA pool. While Mel swam, Frank was running on the upstairs indoor track. He told her he could see her swimming from above. Mel joined the swim team and found she was pretty damn good at it. On Mel’s swimming cap, she had the letter S on the back of it. It apparently stood for Sleipnir, one of the fastest creatures in Nordic mythology. When asked to explain, Mel shrugged and said, “My best friend is one of the fastest people I know. He’s a big mythology guy.”

It was in front of the jellyfish tank at the local zoo when Frank confessed to being in love with her. Instead of going to their Senior Prom, Frank told her there was something special he wanted to show her. Mel was entranced by the sight of the hundreds of jellyfish floating around each other. She had been here a hundred times with Frank. He never told her to hurry up or told her no when she wanted to come back again. He stood quietly, watching her look at the tank.

“They’ll always be beautiful to me. Have you ever seen anything as breathtaking as this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” Frank whispered. When she turned to ask him what, he told her it had always been Mel. “Since the day I met you, I’ve loved you. I saw you on the bus and I couldn’t believe…” He cleared his throat, picking up her hand. “I couldn’t believe you were real.”

He kissed her forehead, “You’re the soul of my world. However you want me, I’m yours. Your happiness has always come first for me. If you just want to be friends, I’ll do it.”

On the night they first made love, Frank gave her a garnet jellyfish necklace. He nearly broke it when he hooked his finger in the chain as she moved fast, hard, and desperate above him.

Then came the Summer Olympics. On the day of her first event, Frank had made a poster that read “The Stinging Melly-Fish” on it. The Internet lost its mind over the hot Olympic runner supporting his swimmer girlfriend and the clever signage. Frank lost his voice, screaming and crying that his girl was an Olympic Gold Medalist. Reuters took a photo of Frank grabbing Mel into a wild hug, lips forming the words “Melly-Fish”. It quickly became the most Googled image that year.

Frank, obviously, was no less successful at the Track and Field events. When Frank ran the 200 meters in 19.78 seconds, officially becoming the fastest American male in the 200 dash, the reaction of Mel crying with joy became a meme. Mel had never loved him more when he smiled at her in the crowd, waggling his fingers like jellyfish tentacles, the way he had done on the first day they met and when they said goodbye to one another when the bus brought them home.

Their wedding was on a beach, small and intimate. Frank wore a jellyfish pin on his lapel and Mel had a golden olive branch crown in his hair.

Always jelly fish and mythology, she mused with a smile as she brushed their newborn daughter's hair out of her face. Cassiopeia was an unusual name but it was a nice tie-in for both parents.

#childhood friends to lovers u will always be famous #the pitt #kingdon

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bromple · 4 hours ago

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could you write a thing of “it’s you, it’s always been you.” Best friend type thing? (jumping on the bandwagon (again) and asking multiple bloggers to get different perspectives! Since it could be taken so many ways ✨)

2.7k of emotional hurt/comfort (Also on Ao3: x)

---

Tears are still dripping down Mel’s cheeks when the valet awkwardly offers her his phone.

“Do you have someone you can call?” He asks, gesturing where Howie’s car had been with a wince. “Other than him, I mean.”

A small crowd of passersby linger between the sidewalk and the restaurant doors watching her like she might continue the show, give them something else to talk about. Mel can see a few heads still turned inside out of the corner of her eye, tracking her through the window.

Mel wipes her cheeks roughly, avoiding the valet’s eyes as she takes his phone like she has any idea what she’s supposed to do now.

She should call Howie.

Tell him to turn around. Tell him they can talk about it, calmly this time. Keep the night from ending on such a bad note. It’s their two month anniversary, this shouldn’t be how the night ends.

But the list of people that she wants to see is one name long, and it’s not Howie she’s been thinking of all night. She knows she shouldn’t call Frank. Not after this. Not when they haven’t talked in days for the same thing she wants to call him for. But her hands keep shaking and her stomach has been in knots since their fight and she doesn’t have anyone else-

Mel dials his number.

It only rings twice before- “Frank Langdon speaking. Please tell me this is an emergency and not a butt-dial.” The sound of what Mel knows is a Penguins game keeps murmuring away in the background.

Mel freezes for a minute at the sound of his voice, lower lip wobbling as she wipes at her wet cheeks again.

“Hello?” He asks, voice pulling away from the speaker to check the call is still active. “Who is this?”

“Please don’t hang up.” Mel begs quietly, shoulders hiking as people passing by look curiously.

“Mel?” The game noise disappears immediately and Frank’s voice shifts, low and focused. “What is it, are you okay?”

“Howie and I got in a fight. A bad one.” Mel says, a sob catching in her throat. Bad doesn’t cover the look on his face when he started yelling or how he’d leaned over her. Bad doesn’t cover how she’d flinched every time he gestured at her - and that he kept doing it anyway.

“Are you crying?” Frank asks like he can’t believe it, like it’s completely out of the realm of possibility. “Did he make you fucking cry?”

“I don’t think he meant to.” Mel hiccups, trying to take a slow breath. If she was being honest with herself, this had been coming one way or another.

Howie had been the crack in the dam, explosive and unpredictable, but the quiet latch of Frank’s apartment door closing behind her three days ago had been worse, bouncing around her mind endlessly.

“Where are you?” Frank asks almost desperately. “Sweetheart, tell me where you are, I’ll come to get you.”

“You will?” Mel’s lip wobbles.

“Of course I will.” Frank promises immediately, like he doesn’t even have to think about it. “Tell me where you are.”

Mel slides the phone away from her ear long enough to send him the restaurant, some French pop-up Howie had been raving about getting a reservation at. Never mind that she didn’t like French food. Or that he’d forgotten about her Dijon allergy until he’d already ordered the appetizer. It’d taken Frank two hours to ask about Becca on their second shift together. By name.

“I’ll be there in twenty. Fifteen if the cop in Hazelwood decides to go do his job tonight.” Frank tells her.

“Don’t break the law.” Mel says instinctively, a well-worn comment, knowing full well that his apartment is farther than that to begin with.

Frank hums ambiguously, both of them knowing that he’ll be there in twenty minutes or less.

They linger in quiet limbo for a moment. There’s too much between them - about tonight, about their own fight - to say anything else, but Mel knows Frank won’t hang up first. He never hangs up first. Mel is always the one to decide when they stop, where the line is. She was the one to set the line three days ago.

She glances at the hovering valet and swallows hard. “I should give this phone back.”

“Twenty minutes, Mel.” Frank says tightly, “Just- be there when I get there, okay? I’m on my way.”

Mel’s not sure if she’s imagining the eyes still running over her, but she wraps her arms around herself and breathes carefully. She leans against the wall, as far from the valet stand and windows as she can be.

She thinks she should be wondering about Howie. That feels like the right answer. Planning the next step where they figure out what they are now. Or aren’t.

But every time she tries to think about him, her mind drifts back to Frank. It always comes back to Frank. No matter who she’s with, who she’s supposed to be thinking of - it’s always him.

They hadn’t talked since their fight, not really. A handful of passing moments in the ER, handing off cases or sharing a trauma call. Always with other people in the room as a neutral party.

Frank didn’t push for anything more. She drew a line and he stays firmly on his side of it, like he always does. Mel is the one who has been falling apart every time she catches his eye from across the ER or moves to pull him into one of her cases before remembering.

Remembering how quiet Frank was as he laid it all out, telling her why she would come over to his apartment almost like clockwork. Why she reached out to him when Leo said something that upset her or when Benny started pressuring her to take things further than she wanted to. When Howie left her on the other side of town with no ride and no phone.

Every time someone she’s dating falls short, she runs to Frank.

Tears drip down her cheeks, hot and sticky, at the memory of Frank almost begging her to tell him what she wants, who she wants him to be. It had been the only time Frank tried to move the line, tried to change them.

And Mel hadn’t been able to say it.

Hadn’t been able to risk what they have reaching for something more. She tries to tell herself that she did it to protect their friendship, even as the pit in her stomach tells her that she might have lost that anyway.

It’s worse knowing the words are sitting right behind her teeth and she doesn’t know how to tell him now that she picked wrong.

But he’d promised to come. She doesn’t know what this means for them but she called, for the same reason they’d fought, and he promised to come without hesitating.

Like it wasn’t even a question.

The dinging of a car door left open pulls Mel back to herself half a beat before Frank’s warm hands cradle her cheeks, lifting her head to look at him. His eyes are piercing, looking over her carefully as he thumbs away a few escaped tears.

It’s the first time she’s seen him outside of the ER since that night. Mel swallows a wave of homesickness at the familiarity of Frank’s hands on her skin, effortlessly breaking through the wall that had formed between them. Mel lets herself lean into his hands to feel how steady they are as he takes her weight.

Neither of them try to talk and Mel knows that it’s because what they have to say is for their ears only. Frank pulls his eyes away from her after a long moment to look around, searching for something he doesn’t find. He guides her back to his car, his hand splayed across her lower back. Mel follows quietly, fighting the fluttery nerves in her stomach.

Frank gets her settled in the car before climbing into his own seat. He pulls away from the curb as soon as his seat belt clicks, finally leaving the watchful eyes of the restaurant.

Mel is half-tempted to look for her own ghost in the rear-view, see if she can find what Howie saw when he pulled off, but she doesn’t give into the temptation.

Who knows if he even looked back.

Frank’s eyes are trained on the road, hands completely still on the wheel. Mel knows this isn’t how he drives, usually a hurricane of movement, and the proof that he’s anticipating the conversation looming over them as much as she is doesn’t make it any easier. The silence builds like a physical pressure, the quiet tickling of the turn signal compounding it.

Mel wants to plan what she’s going to say, how she’s possibly going to put it all into words, but every time she tries, her throat closes up at the selfishness of it all. She starts to recognize the streets, only a few lights away from where Frank would need to choose which of their apartments he’s going to. Somehow that’s what finally unsticks the lump in her throat.

“It wasn’t Howie’s fault. I started it." Mel says, watching Frank’s reaction carefully. She can own up to being wrong, and then segue into talking about them, about if there’s any chance-

“I doubt it.” Frank snorts humorlessly, glaring at the car in front of them.

“I did.” Mel insists, twisting her fingers together tightly. “I was in a bad mood and he was just trying to have a nice night-

“Mel, you called me in tears.” Frank’s knuckles bleach white around the wheel. “He left you on the street.”

“It wasn’t-” Mel winces. “He needed to cool down, and- and I was being dramatic calling like that-”

“No, you weren’t!” Frank erupts, dropping his measured tone in a burst.

Mel flinches back at the noise, shoulder smarting as it hits the door.

They both freeze for a second before Frank turns sharply into a parking spot along the street and turns off the car.

Frank visibly reigns himself in, the vein in his throat flexing from the tight clench of his jaw as he forces himself to breathe. His voice is unnaturally steady when he speaks again, staring out the windshield. “It doesn’t matter what happened. He can’t just act out whenever he’s upset.”

“Frank…”

“He can’t just leave you.” Frank says barely louder than a whisper, finally twisting to look at her. “If he’s the one that gets you, he can’t fucking waste it.”

Mel’s eyes burn, heart thick in her throat. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who said it again, who went back out on a limb to put words to this thing between them. She doesn’t deserve a second chance after missing the right answer the first time, but she’ll take anything Frank gives her, no matter how selfish she knows it makes her.

Frank’s head drops as soon as the words leave him and he scrubs at his face hard. “Shit. That’s not why I- ignore that.”

“I want to talk about it.” Mel whispers, biting her bottom lip as it threatens to start wobbling again.

“I don’t, I can’t-” Frank pleads. “I’ll give you anything else Mel, please.”

“It’s my fault. You have to let me tell you-” Mel says, trying to force the words out.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart.” Frank interrupts in a strained voice. “You don't have to say anything else, I’m not mad.”

“I do!” Mel hiccups. “I-I picked wrong.”

The evening splits into before and after as soon as the words cross her lips. A point of no return. Mel can feel it all still building in her chest like the brakes have come off, finally dragging everything else out with it. “You’re my best friend and- I was scared to take a chance on more if it meant losing that, losing that part of you. And now we don’t even talk so I lost you anyway-”

Frank stares at her, mouth hanging open.

“You’re the one I should have picked, you’re the one I want. And I’m terrified I waited too long and you’re going to tell me I’m too late.”

“Mel.” Frank breathes, shaking his head slowly like he doesn’t know what to respond to first.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’m sorry.” Mel sobs, digging her fingers into her thighs to keep them still. Her chest feels like it’s caving in after being held up by the weight of regret she’d been holding in. The world blurs out of focus as the tears rush down her cheeks.

Frank fumbles at her seat belt release for a moment before it unlocks and he pulls her over the console into his lap. Mel can’t hear what he’s saying over the sound of her sobs, but it’s low and soothing as she tucks herself into his neck.

Mel’s not sure if she’s crying more from the confession or the release of it all, but it comes out in a rush. Frank’s hands are all over, petting over her back and tangling into her hair. He knows her better than anyone else and she can tell he’s playing dirty as he scratches her scalp. He’s used the same move on her before, knowing how it calms her down after a bad shift or day or- anything.

Mel forces herself to take a breath, hiccuping through it, and then another, and another. Until she’s matching Frank’s slow deep breathing, feeling their chests rise and fall together. Her eyes are sore and her head feels stuffed with cotton, tired in a bone-deep way.

Mel catches a whiff of Frank’s softener and presses her nose a little deeper into his shirt, chasing the familiar comfort.

“You’re okay.” Frank’s hand is still tucked into her hair and his voice is warm and soft, brighter. “I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

It can’t be that simple, he can’t just take her back- “Howie-”

“Do you love him?” Frank cuts her off.

Mel pulls back slightly to look at Frank directly. She knows how selfish she’s being. She hasn’t even broken up with Howie yet, technically. But ‘before’ is gone and there’s only one real answer. “Not when you’re not there.”

“Fuck.” Frank breathes emphatically. He presses a kiss into her hair. “That’s all I need, sweetheart.”

“I hurt you. And- and I’m late. Are you sure?” Mel doesn’t fill in the blanks.

Are you sure about us, about me, about someone who couldn’t give you a straight answer even when it hurt both of us?

Frank’s eyes flicker softly. “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

Mel feels drunk, like reality slipped to the side for a moment and let this happen. “Frank.” Mel says, unable to articulate the rush in her chest. The fact that this is real.

“Mel.” He says, grinning back at her.

They lean into each other at the same time, Frank using his hand on Mel’s head to tilt her just right as they kiss. Frank’s hand slides over her hip, holding her close. Mel can’t help smiling into Frank’s mouth, feeling his lips curve with hers.

She’s had Almost-This for so long, she hadn’t realized how much she was missing in those last few inches. She doesn’t plan to miss it again. Mel pulls back, staring at Frank with new eyes, giddy as she buries her fingers in his shirt.

“You and me, sweetheart.” Frank tells her, eyes bright as he laces their fingers together and tugs her hand up to his lips. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your time.”

Mel just shakes her head, burying herself in his chest again. Right over his heart.

“There’s nothing to prove. I’m yours. I’ve been yours.”

(Howie shows up at her apartment with flowers two days later, knocking loudly and telling her through the door that he found her phone in his glove-box and wants to talk. Frank presses a kiss to a hickey he’d been working on quite thoroughly and walks out of her bedroom with a grin.

Mel doesn’t bother with the specifics when Frank comes back in eight minutes later, phone in hand and no sign of Howie. She got what she wanted. The rest isn’t worth much.)

#drew barrymore rain.gif THANK YOU FOR MY LIIFFEEEEE #melfrank serving romcom excellence is my current fav brand of melfrank 😌#the pitt #kingdon

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