If These Walls Could Talk [Frerard]

13: Scrapes, Scars, and Lies.

"So, how'd I do?"

I gave Frank "the look," his smile releasing a small chuckle as he uncrossed his arms, gesturing towards me as he turned slightly. His smile grew wider, and he continued his previous question, "I think I did alright job, if I do say so myself. But, it's all up to the client."

I shrugged, turning to the mirror once more and tugging on the hair, "I think it's pretty good. But, you aren't a professional," I teased. Frank snorted, gesturing for me to follow him. I laughed and gently nudged his shoulder, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "I think it's rad. You're pretty good at this, though. Dunno where you learned it."

"I have my connections," Frank responded in a way that made it seem like he wanted to be mysterious. I cackled, his brows furrowing.

"And by connections, you mean stealing from your hair salon."

"Yea, yea, you got me. It's worth it though, did you see the job I did on your greasy head of hair?" He squeaked enthusiastically, and I dramatically placed a hand over my heart, exaggerating my reaction. We both laughed then, and began to jog back to the front room. He opened the door quickly, stopping and bowing. I curtsied, my eyes blinking rapidly a few times.

"Sir," Frank said, his head still bowed.

"Oh, thank you, squire. So very kind, maybe you'll get some dinner tonight, if you continue to act like so," I played along, and Frank chuckled, standing up straight once more and saying in my ear.

"I'm not your squire, I'm not a squire. I'm the king."

"Whatever you say, squire."

"Let's just get you home," Frank said, cutting off further conversation of the topic at hand. He was not about to argue with me about whether he's a squire or a king. He tugged at my arm, pulling me down the street at a lightning speed. His feet moved surprisingly quickly compared to my longer legs, but I simply told myself in the few seconds I was enabled that it was because I wasn't expecting it. I wasn't even that much taller than Frank, but he always seemed at least a little bit smaller.

Before I knew it, the ground was flying towards my face and I couldn't do anything more than screech Frank's name, my knees hitting the pavement with a painful surge of pain as I slid against the cement for a moment. Frank dropped my hand then, and turned to look back at me, his hands covering his mouth as he began to laugh silently behind his hands. When he saw the pained look on my face, however, he gasped and leant down, immediately repeating his apologies and "I didn't mean to, Gee." I inspected my knees and gently brushed the ends of my fingers against the burning pain on the area around my lips. I discovered that I was bleeding from the corner of my lip, and the sight of a red finger certainly shocked me at first.

"Frank, am I bleeding?"

He coughed, his face scrunching slightly before he replied, "Yea, kinda."

I groaned, throwing my head back before lifting myself from the ground and extending a hand towards Frank, "Let's go."

"But-"

"If you want to patch me up, then we have to get to my house first."

He nodded quickly, grabbing my hand before I pulled him onto his feet, shoving my hands into my pockets. My hair flew slightly as I walked, Frank's head in a downwards position as he walked along silently, every so often bumping into me. Well, I would bump into him, trying to get him to look up and meet my eyes for me to be allowed to tell him that it was alright, but he seemed stuck, like a rusty machine. Soon enough, we made it back to my house, and Frank kicked at the small rocks and gravel that rested on my porch. I unlocked the door, heading inside and grabbing Frank's shoulder gently to motion him up the stairs.