A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Love to read your comments, and I'm happy to see I'm not alone in my love for Winston :)
[6. MONDAY]
...
"Where's Frankie?" asks Hunter as he walks back in from his afternoon classes.
"She's just gone for a shower. You pretty much just missed her," says Miles, sitting up on the bed where he's been slouching for the past few minutes. "All good?"
"Yeah, not bad. The usual. How about you guys?"
"Same, quiet. We went out for a bit. Frankie managed to text mum back, and she also got in touch with her school."
"Okay, good. And… has he tried calling again?"
Miles shakes his head, and Hunter visibly relaxes.
"You know, I have been thinking," says Miles, "It might have been a good thing in the end, when you picked up the other day. At least he knows not to show up at mum's looking for her, or something."
Hunter looks pensive for a moment, doesn't answer straight away.
"Do you think he'll actually come here?" he finally asks, his voice lowered even though it's just the two of them in the room.
Miles sighs, his shoulder slumping down. "I don't know," he says. Frankie was so freaked out when it first happened that none of them really stopped to think of it, but since then things have calmed down. "Honestly, she doesn't seem all that worried about it. And, I mean, does he even know where you live? Seems like a stretch to me."
He doesn't want to dismiss the possibility, but at the same time… Frankie's been here almost a week, now. Max's known her whereabouts for two full days. If anything was to happen, wouldn't it have happened already?
Hunter shrugs, shaking his head lightly. "I hope you're right."
"Okay, tell you what," Miles stands up and stretches his back, "I'll head downstairs for a smoke, if you don't mind, and then maybe we can think dinner?"
Yes, Miles smokes — no worries, though, just cigarettes. It's his one remaining vice, these days. It helps with stress, and to be fair it also helps him avoid other substances, so he sticks to his nicotine even though he knows he should try quitting, for the good of his own abused lungs. He doesn't normally flaunt it around, when he's home, but these past few days have been a whole new level of stressful, and anyway Hunter doesn't seem to mind.
"Yeah, no problem," his brother says, unfazed. "Actually, you know what? You don't need to go all the way down, I'll show you the terrace."
"The terrace?"
Hunter grins. "It's not, really. It's just this thing on top of the emergency stairwell. We're not exactly supposed to go there, but everyone does. You just need to be careful not to lock yourself out, I'll show you…"
He opens the door to his room, leaning outside to point at a fire door at the opposite end of the hall, when suddenly his face shifts. Miles follows his gaze, puzzled, until he sees what caught Hunter's eye: the door is propped open — by something that looks an awful lot like a shower caddy. Miles can almost hear the cogwheels click in his brother's head, and before he knows it Hunter's running down the corridor, Miles shortly behind. They climb the stairs two at a time, and when they finally get to the terrace they find Frankie standing there, leaning against the concrete bannister. She's on the phone, and by her deer-in-headlights expression there's no doubt left who she's talking to. And Miles can feel his own stomach knotting inside him, almost making him throw up.
Everything seems to stand still for a moment, until Hunter runs up to her, grabs the phone from her hands, and angrily smashes it on the floor. Frankie instantly freezes, wide eyes staring back at him in shock.
"What's wrong with you?" she cries after a beat.
"With me?! What the hell's wrong with you! Calling him? Seriously?"
She seems speechless for a second, not quite prepared for the angry tone in his voice, but she's quick to regain her ground, and when she gets back at him it feels like she's going in for his throat.
"Are you for real?" she yells in his face, "It's my relationship, Hunter. My mess. Stay the hell out of it!"
"Stay out?" Hunter growls back, his face red and his lips so thin they're about to disappear, "You're the one who drove across the country and showed at my door with a fucking bruise on your face-"
"Well, I'll be sure never to make that mistake again!" Frankie cries at the top of her lungs, angry tears rolling over the rims of her eyes, and Hunter looks like she's slapped him.
"Franks, come on, that's not-" Miles tries to chip in and quiet the angry tones, but Hunter quickly regains his composure.
"What the hell happened since the other day, uh?" he attacks her again, changing his tactic. "You pretty much had a panic attack at the thought he might come here and find you, and now you're freaking talking to him?"
"Hunter, seriously-" Miles tries again, but this time it's Frankie who cuts him off.
"What do you even know about loving someone, Hunter, uh?" she yells at him, her voice such a high pitch Miles's eardrums ache at the sound, "He loves me, you know that? He loves me, and I love him!"
She's bawling her eyes out, by now, and Miles's insides contract painfully at the hysterical scene — her tears, and sobs, and the broken excuses coming from her. Hunter is just about ready to get back at her, but Miles finally moves to close the distance separating him from his siblings and places a hand on his brother's shoulder. It's enough to get his attention, and Hunter seems to instantly deflate the moment he catches sight of his eyes. Miles quietly pulls Hunter back from their sister with a meaningful look, one that says, now is not the time. He then turns towards Frankie — red face and blotchy eyes, a hot mess. He doesn't say anything, for there's nothing to say; he just reaches out and offers her his open arms.
Frankie glances at him suspiciously for a second, still defensive, maybe unsure whose side Miles would be on. But there's only one side, here, and they're all on it. Always. She finally quits her fight and lets him get near. She's freezing to the touch, having stood outside in the winter air for a while without her coat on. He keeps her in his arms for long minutes, holding her tight as she breaks down and cries, and sobs, and holds on to him.
"I'm sorry," she mutters, face hiding in his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"
"It's okay," he whispers, a solid lump blocking his throat. "It's okay."
He rests his chin over Frankie's head and holds her tighter, her body shuddering from the cold and the aftermath of whatever it is that just went down. He understands that she needs this — the tears, the catharsis of it all. He glances over toward Hunter and they briefly lock eyes with each other. Miles shakes his head ever so slightly, helplessness seeping through him. In all honesty, Hunter seems on the verge of tears, his face all scrunched up and hardened. He shuffles on his feet, bends down and collects what remains of Frankie's phone. He moves back to the edge of the terrace and lays the shattered pieces on the top of the bannister, slowly. He then leans his back against it, eyes planted on the ground, arms wrapped around himself for comfort.
The sound of Frankie's sobs is fading out into the evening as they quiet down. Miles inhales deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs before releasing it slowly. He closes his eyes and bends down to kiss her on the head.
More A/N
Not sure what you'll make of this chapter. I think I'm taking this story in a different direction from what you might be thinking. Since most of you seem interested in Max, I wanted to let you know that I wrote a prequel from Frankie's pov that you might enjoy. I'll try and finish it along with this story and post it afterwards. Let me know if you'd be up for it!
