on thin ice [karen/frank - marvel]

one: an ugly beige couch

He drank coffee at the same time every morning. Eight fifteen am, whilst listening to the broadcast of different "ten reasons why" segments. Today's was about being punctual. He ate a buttered bagel whilst simultaneously being late for work. He had coffee stains on his kitchen table from days ago. He never bothered cleaning them because he always seemed to place his coffee mug in the same place every morning.

The block he lived in was small, his apartment even smaller and everyone seemed to know everyone around there. Even though he knew everyone he didn't shout about it. He never told anyone else someone's business, as did the others. Everyone was tight-lipped. He kept his distance but kept his ears open for the gossip that made its way throughout the building about other tenants.

The apartment opposite his had been empty for almost three months and the silence was comforting in some hours. In others, he wished he still had the blare of Mr. Lumley's television at 11:30 at night when he tuned in to watch a specific rerun of a show Frank had never heard of until he pieced characters together from listening to Mr. Lumley and searched up who they were. He lay in bed whilst the same episode crawled through the walls and into his head from Lumley's apartment.

"I think I need to believe it works - love, couplehood, partnerships. The idea that when people come together, they stay together."

Frank would recite the memorised lines like it was part of his routine. The pixelated voices already painted a strong picture of the scene and how Mr. Lumley was slumped in front of his TV. The same way Frank's dad used to sit in front of the TV, a beer in hand and his feet upon a stool. Frank remembered a time it wasn't a stool; instead a pile of magazines and books because his Dad despised reading that much.

"I have to take that with me to bed every night, even if I'm going to bed alone"

It had been three months since he had passed.

Obviously getting accustomed to the silence, Frank knew the apartment was occupied once again when a moving van appeared outside the front of the apartment. It was a Tuesday night and he sat on the fire escape, watching the goods be unloaded from the truck and onto his doorstep. People walked around them, the streets of New York still as busy as ever. It didn't matter someone was moving into their apartment - it wasn't a big deal anymore. It happened every day.

The one thing that caught Frank's eye was the hideous beige coloured couch sitting on the corner of the street, people frowning as they walked past it. He couldn't help but laugh as he took a drag from his cigarette. A car pulled up a few seconds later, retro-looking with a red rooftop but black on the bottom. Another odd sight.

Her heels clashed against the ground as she walked fiercely, and Frank could practically hear the devil below his feet screaming in terror. Oh shit, she's here. All the other renters down in hell throwing things about and screaming because their world is crumbling. Only a woman with a secret walks with that much power. She was instantly intriguing.

The sound transferred from ear to ear as she opened the door to the building and began climbing the stairs. She obviously had boxes in hand because her huffing was heard for miles. He listened out carefully as she slotted the key into the apartment door and headed inside. The drink in Frank's hand was drowning in condensation and slipping from his hand, ashes from his cigarette dropping onto the mesh below because he was so distracted.

Lumley's wooden floor echoed through the open window and toward Frank and he sat back in contentment, listening to what was about to unfold. He could still see the beige couch on the street below. One kid passing even sat on it as a mover stood by and watched; Frank could imagine the fit she would throw if she saw a dirty, energetic child on her pure and clean beige couch. The two didn't contrast well, even Frank could see that.

Frank pushed himself up from the fire escape after dropping the cigarette from the ground below. He downed the rest of his beer, placing the glass in the basin and wiped his damp hand on the bottom of his shirt. Grabbing a jacket, he threw it on and headed out the door. The way it slammed caused the whole building to shake and the sound echoed throughout the bare stairwells. A dog owned by one of the other renters screamed in response.

He headed down quickly, toward the couch on the side of the street. The door to his building was propped open with a box; he figured she didn't want to keep keying herself up. The movers kept loading boxes down onto the street next to it. One of them turned to him, frowning slightly as he approached the site rolling the sleeves of his jacket up. He figured he should have just left it in his apartment.

"It's okay," Frank said, trying to edge the couch off the sidewalk toward the door. Another guy in an orange jacket joined him, the two of them stood together looking at Frank. "I got this"

The mover laughed in response, nudging his friend before the two of them began helping Frank carry the couch to the top floor of his block. When Frank got to the top, he looked around whilst panting; his decision for a jacket being majorly regretted. She was nowhere in sight.

The movers soon disappeared and Frank stopped to take a look around the apartment. He'd always wondered what it looked like when Mr. Lumley lived there; he expected it to be dirty and messy with newspapers everywhere and dark velvet furniture and a throw covering the couch he sat on. But this apartment was spotless. Obviously, Mr. Lumley's daughters came and cleaned it out months ago so every single trace of his personality and what happened whilst he was living here, was gone.

Frank headed for the door after looking around and comparing it to his apartment and how similar it was. He thought about how clean it was compared to his place and if he had the chance to move somewhere new and start fresh in a place where there are no coffee stains on his table, whether he would. He was so lost in the interior he didn't hear her approach the apartment and when he walked out to go back to his place, Frank was hit clean over the head with a frying pan.

He yelled out in pain, stumbling toward the wall next to his front door which he fell against abruptly before he turned quickly and frowned at her. She held a box labelled "kitchen utensils" in her arms, which explained the frying pan and where it came from. "Who are you and why are you in my apartment?"

Frank felt the back of his head, blood appearing on his fingers before he sighed, a thick pounding forming in his head. Dizziness was starting to overcome him and she wobbled in his vision. "I'm your neighbour," he motioned toward the door opposite, 5B. "Not exactly the introduction I expected"

She looked over his shoulder at his apartment, the frying pan still high in the air before she lowered it slightly. Frank frowned wildly as a strand of hair fell from behind her ear as she looked down slightly. In the odd situation, Frank didn't know whether it was his dizziness betraying him or whether she actually did look familiar.

"I thought you could use help with your couch, is all" Frank replied.

Her face faltered slightly before she cleared her throat again and placed the frying pan back into the box. She tucked the strand back, her frown faltering slightly just before it hardened once again. "I don't need your help, 5B. I don't need anyone's help"

Frank didn't even learn her name before she slammed the door in his face.