Destiny
For Christ's sake, it's a normal enough question for someone to ask. Especially if that someone just let you clumsily snog him against the door.
"No." Bill answers quickly, then immediately thinks better of it, "I mean, plenty t' get done around here. But, uh, ya know…" He dips his head, maintaining a thread of eye contact.
Frank’s smile widens a touch, drawing Bill's eyes back to his lips.
God. His lips.
Bill looks away, so overcome by his own desire, he's sick with it. He actually feels weak at the knees – probably because he'd knocked them against the fucking door while throwing caution to the wind. Catalyst's the same either way, though.
"I'm free around seven, if you need an extra set of hands –"
How about an extra set of lips?
"– or some company?”
Bill flicks his eyes back to Frank, who's now gazing dreamily at his lips.
"Okay."
It feels surreal, all of it. Frank cradles Bill's face, caressing his cheeks and jaw with soft, attentive fingers – fingers which tangle in his beard and tug sweetly at his heartstrings.
These touches alone are enough to melt him where he stands, were it not for the hand he still has braced against the door.
But what really has Bill enamored – what he can’t quite understand – is how Frank looks at him, as if he’s truly something to behold. He can’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve such a look, misty with tender warmth and affection.
What Bill does know – what he’s much too scared to admit – is that he’d do anything if it meant Frank would keep looking at him like that.
But Frank already knows it, doesn’t he?
Because Frank is kissing him again, chastely, yet somehow without restraint. It feels like a promise.
It feels like a trap…
For once, Bill's anxious thoughts can't gain any traction. They're drowned beneath waves of jittery sentiment; the same waves which threaten to drag him under constantly, were Frank not keeping him afloat.
So, if this is a trap, Bill doesn't fucking care.
If this is a trap, Bill resigns himself to it and does so willingly.
Better to suffocate softly in Frank's arms than to continue thrashing through a cold and endless ocean.
–
Frank steps out onto the porch and into the warm afternoon sun. Listening for the soft click of the door lock, he lowers himself to the porch steps and rests his elbows atop his legs.
Sitting here now, reflecting in the illuminating light of day, Frank wonders what the fuck he's doing.
He's being reckless, getting involved like this.
Frank is here to sell his mother's house.
That house had once been his home, but it isn't anymore. His home is in Baltimore now.
His job, his friends, his life is in Baltimore.
And yet…
It's not as if these affections came out of nowhere. Frank had not been lying when he told Bill he still thinks about him...
Bill had been Frank's first friend in Lincoln, and the very first person he'd ever really considered a best friend.
Bill is the closest thing Frank has to home in this godforsaken town. He's shelter in a cruel and endless storm – hardy and enduring and comfortable in all the right places.
The truth is, Frank has been submerged in misery for so long, he'd started to mistake it for normalcy. He's kept his wits about him, sure, his humor, his sunny outlook and, thank god, his health. But he's been miserable all the same.
Frank doesn't have it in him to just walk away. Not now – not when he knows Bill wants him too.
Not when it feels like Bill waited for him.
The thought is absurd – vain even – but Frank entertains it anyway.
He'd always known there was a possibility Bill still lived in town; that he may come to the funeral. However, until Bill had stood before him, meek and lovely as ever, Frank hadn't realized how much this consideration had become a deeply intimate hope. A hope which has now materialized, against all odds.
A few more tears escape his eyes, quickly morphing into gushing streams and broken sobs.
Frank isn't stupid – he knows he can't stay in this town. It makes him feel too restless.
He also knows he's not going to be able to convince Bill to leave with him, when the time comes. This town is Bill's home.
So Frank will pretend, if only for this moment, that Bill did wait for him – that this is destiny, thirty years in the making, and that makes them untouchable.
It's all Frank can do to keep his grief at bay, because he truly cannot take anymore.
And he should be furious at himself for it.
But, from an objective point of view, it is incredibly romantic.