Karen stares at the man opposite to her, wishing she could get inside his mind. Frank felt like a stranger at times, keeping his head down and mouth shut unless needed. There are moments where she gets a glimpse of his old self, like when he plays guitar late at night, whispering the words to an old, familiar song. His face just settles. No grimacing, no pain behind his eyes, just a man trying his best to survive.
When he looks at her, it’s always with a guarded affection. Like he’s afraid to get too close. It would be hilarious if Frank’s enemies could see how scared he is to even kiss her.
Karen has doubts too. She isn’t stupid to who Frank really is. Not many people would like the idea of her loving a mass murderer, but she has her reasons for staying with him. Not out of loyalty, although he has saved her on multiple occasions. It was more out of admiration, and some curiosity. There’s a good man buried in there somewhere.
When Frank politely declines her food, she doesn’t push it, even if he looks thinner than normal. He would just get waves of nausea throughout the night.
She questions him, knowing she won’t get a straight answer. Frank isn’t one for honesty. But she knows something is bothering him.
Sometimes Karen wonders if he feels guilty about being with her. As if loving another woman besides Maria is a form of betrayal. Is moving on such a bad thing?
When she tells him she’s always there for him, his eyes fill with tears. He tries to hide it from her, but she grabs his hand, forcing him to look.
“Come here.” she says, arms outstretched.
He buries his head into her chest, listening to the beat of her heart. Karen lets him cry into her.
“I have you, you’re safe.” she whispers. More than anything, she wants him to feel safe with her.
His hands rest in her hair. “M’ okay. I’ll be okay.” he responds.
She knows he’s not really okay, but Frank never wants her to worry. It always makes her sad, the way he tries to tiptoe around her. Like he’s not good enough for her.
And he’d be the first to say that.
Karen lifts his head up, placing a hand on his cheek. He grabs her hand and interlaces it with his, kissing it gently.
She stands on her toes and kisses his forehead in return. Moments like this, where they can finally let their guard down, are more precious than anything.
“Thanks for uh- being here. You know.” he says.
She smiles. “Of course. You know I always will be.”
His eyes soften. Frank hesitates before leaning in to kiss her. His kisses are always delicate, for a guy who beat and shot people to death.
He pulls away. “Uh- love you.”
It’s a rushed “I love you”. Frank was never great about expressing love, but Karen knows he’s trying. It’s sweet to see.
“I love you.” she affirms.