it's the end of the world as we know it.

02. welcome to the shit show

The only time you could consider Frankie abnormal to the rest of his peers is that he hated the weekends. Frankie always preferred school, though he hated learning, it was time to see his friends and avoid his family. He really only could consider Jonathan and Luke his friend, Frankie was well liked by the rest of his peers at least, they laughed at his stupid jokes in class and would ask if he had weed to sell, but none of them really wanted to be his friend.

Honestly, Frankie wouldn't want to be his friend either.

It was Saturday morning, and the sun shone through his tapestry hung in his window. Groaning, Frankie curled into a ball and buried his face into his bed, not wanting to get up and face the world.

"Frankie!" The loud rapping of his sister's hand against his door startled him, and he grumbled.

"What?!"

"Mom says to get up because you have to take me to Morgan's in an hour!" Stella shouted. Morgan was one of her little friends, who lived on the other side of town.

"When did I become your personal chauffeur?" Frankie grumbled to himself, dragging himself out of bed and opening the door. Stella blinked up at him, usually it took them three tries to ever actually get him out of bed.

"You're not wearing that there, are you?" She made a face at his plaid pj pants and ratty Star Wars shirt.

"It's not like I'm getting out of the car." He scoffed in response, pushing past Stella in his doorway and heading into the kitchen. Carol Avery was there now, her blonde hair cast upward in rolling pins sat up on her head as she jumped between the stove tops, making the family a breakfast.

"Good morning, sweetheart." She smiled, turning to her eldest and placing a kiss on top of his head.

"Hi mom." Frankie smiled, reaching up into their cabinet to dig out a coffee mug. Carol was the only one deserving of a ederament nickname like Mom, Adam only got father to his face; otherwise he was called Adam to his friends, or shithead, or bastard or — actually, you get the picture.

He poured some of the brown liquid from the pot into his mug, and Adam sauntered into the kitchen. Frankie would never forgive him for the way the tension suddenly rose in the kitchen, the way he could see his mom's shoulders tense, or the way Stella' eyes anxiously flick between Adam and Frankie, knowing Frankie's habit of not being able to shut his mouth and snarking off at their father frequently.

"Get me some coffee, will you?" Adam spoke, sitting at the kitchen table and unfolding the newspaper in his hands.

Frankie grit his teeth and reached for another mug, before pouring the same amount into Adam's mug. He considered spitting in it if spitting didn't have a clear sound to it. Turning Frankie set the mug in front of Adam, plastering a fake smile on his face as he did so. Adam hummed, not even offering a thank you or looking above the paper, as he picked up the mug and took a sip.

Turning back to his own mug, Frankie rolled his eyes. Carol offered an appreciative smile and put a hand on her son's shoulder, and Frankie smiled softly at her. God, he loved that woman.

He sipped on the coffee as he leaned against the counter, and glanced at Stella. "When are you going to Morgan's?"

"She wanted us to be there by noon."

"Alright, well, we should probably head out soon. Do you have your things?" He asked, and Stella stood, heading off to her room to grab whatever she wanted, taking Frankie's hint that he wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible before he said something he'd regret later.

He dished his keys off the kitchen table as he waited for Stella, and his father eyed him as he did so. "Are you coming back after?"

"No, I'm probably gonna go out. Hang out with a friend or something." Frankie shrugged.