(Mis)fortune (Frerard, Petekey)

Chapter 2

"Frankie, baby, love of my life!"

And Frank could have sworn that if this guy wasn't his best friend, he would have already murdered him. He regretted not doing so the first day they met. Frank still found the memory of that day quite amusing. Long story short, the guy called Frank a hobbit and then earned a punch in the face. Repeatedly.

And let's just say the couple of hours Frank spent with him at the hospital after the little outburst went much more smoothly and here they were, ten years later and best friends. The guy still pissed Frank off most of the time, though.

A sigh escaped Frank's lips as he approached his friend. The guy with the afro opened his arms for Frank who just shook his head and walked past him.

"Hey, Ray." Frank tried to shake him off. And then there were arms around Frank's waist, hugging the shit out of the short man and lifting him up. The little bitch twisted Frank around and giggled at his struggling to get free.

"Aww, Frankie, don't be so grumpy." Thankfully, Ray let go of Frank who flipped him off. Frank placed his messenger bag on the ground and walked over to his locker, revealing the white pants, shoes and t-shirt he was told to wear. His gaze fell on Ray again as the shorter man began taking off his clothes. Don't get any fucking ideas!

"The hell are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be fucking with someone's head or some shit?" Frank let a smirk take over his lips as he loosened his jeans and wiggled out of them. He turned back around, hearing Ray scoff behind him.

"Be nice. Without me, you wouldn't have gotten this job so shut your mouth." Frank pfff'd in response but shut up nonetheless, because in all honesty, Ray wasn't exactly wrong. Frank finished getting dressed and attached a tag with 'Frankie' on it to his shirt. Thanks a lot, Ray.

Frank checked the time on his phone before he put it in his bag and locked it in his locker. Ray made himself comfortable on one of the couches in the room and Frank went to make himself what seemed to be his third coffee that day.

"You should hurry up, your biggest fan is waiting for you." The smirk could be practically heard in Ray's damn voice. Frank shot him a look and Ray just grinned back at him . Suddenly the urge to punch the guy came again but fortunately (for both parties) the kettle made a clicking sound, letting Frank know the water was boiled. Coffee before fights, that's a golden rule. Actually, it should probably be coffee before anything else. Yeah, that sounded about right.

Frank poured the water into his mug and mixed it with the coffee powder. Inhaling the delicious smell, the caffeine addict saluted Ray and headed for the door.

"Laters." Frank called and walked out of the room. His legs began moving down the corridor and towards the patients' rooms. Soon, he was standing face-to-face with one of the white door. Or should it be face-to-wood? Was it even wood? Ah, who cares. He took a sip of his coffee, swallowing the liquid. He inhaled some fresh air and knocked.

It took a few seconds before a soft 'come in' sounded from inside the room and Frank's hand rested on the doorknob, twisting it and opening the door. He was met with a familiar sight, a boy curled under the sheets on a bed, his face hidden from Frank's eyes. Frank looked around the room, seeing the boy's clothes sprawled on the floor. He smiled to himself, remembering his own messy room. There was another bed at the opposite wall to the boy's one and Frank sat cross-legged on the ground in between them, leaning his back against the frame of the empty bed.

"Wakey, wakey, Mikey." That rhymed. Damn, I'm good, Frank thought. He could make a career out of this. He'll be the next Edgar Allan Poe, just you wait.

The sheets lifted a little, revealing a half of Mikey's face before he groaned and rolled over.

"Not you again." He mumbled and Frank mocked a gasp.