The sun shone into the room. Franky blinked and rubbed her eyes. As she began to feel her senses waking, she noticed a strange whimpering coming from under the covers. It took her a minute to register who it was, even though it could only have been one person. She pulled the blankets over her head and found a crying Mini. Her face was in her hands, her hair completely messy, last night's eyeliner smudged around her eyes. Mini had no reason to wear eyeliner nowadays, with her being holed up in her bedroom all day. But last night she and Franky had dressed up and put on full makeup and just danced around her room. Last night it had been perfect. Today it was running down her face as she clutched at her growing baby bump, crying about how she wasn't ready; how she'd never be ready.
Franky thought she looked beautiful.
Franky wasn't sure when she started loving Mini. All she knew was the now, the feeling of unbearable pain whenever they were apart. It was if they were attached by some sort of cable that, when stretched, caused Franky the worst kind of pain imaginable.
She would never say any of this to Mini, of course. It would only hurt her. It would only make things worse, more complicated. They had the kind of friendship where they slept in the same bed, but it was nothing more than that. It couldn't be, for Mini's sake. She had to hide it. It's for Mini, Franky told herself, and that was enough.
So it goes on like this. Franky wakes up before Mini. She slides under the covers and they usually have a conversation. One day, Mini will be laughing, talking about some stupid time she and Liv did acid and passed out. The next, she might be crying about how she needs Gracey to have this baby. Franky tries not to take that personally. She knows that she herself feels like she needs Gracey sometimes too. But then there are Franky's favorite days. The days where they don't speak, where they just look at each other. Franky might hold Mini's hand sometimes, but that's all she dares to do. She wants so badly to hold her, to tell her that she loves her, to kiss the words into her hair, onto her skin, so she never forgets. But she holds herself back every time. She reminds herself that she cannot complicate things. But there is something about the way Mini looks at her, the way she holds Franky's hand. There is something that tells Franky Mini just might love her back.
The inevitable cannot be delayed forever. And so one day, it happens. It's the kind of day Franky likes, and she is under the covers, holding Mini's hand. And she wants it to happen. She feels like she is burning, like she needs Mini. And she knows that Mini will only intensify the burn, but she doesn't care. But just like every day, she stops. And then she feels it. A rustling in the sheets, and then Mini is there. She holds Franky, and plants a kiss on her cheek. Franky looks at her. Mini looks back. And then they are kissing. It's soft, slow, awkward even. But they both understand. They fit. Franky doesn't need Matty or Luke. She hasn't for a long time. She doesn't know about Mini and Alo, but she hopes things will work out. They break apart, and they don't say anything, just lie there like before, holding hands, the smallest of smiles on each of their lips, because they finally know. This is right. The two of them, right here, right now. It's not perfect, but they know it will work. They don't have to speak. They just have to lie there, and be.