inked blues. (f. iero) **COMPLETED**

thirteen: "told you, babe, you don't look 32"

You know those days where you don't want to get out of bed? Where the world just seemed against you in every way possible? You would feel like you'd break into a million pieces if you got up out of bed and moved around?

Today was one of those days for Frank, it was a bad mental health day.

He knew today was going to be a bad one, just by how he felt when he woke up. He didn't feel like he was in his own skin. He felt like the skin on him was crawling, burning even. It ached to be on the body of someone happier.

He hadn't moved from his spot in bed all day. He closed the shop down for a few days, just so he wouldn't have anything to worry about there. But he still had shit with the record label to do, like help produce this new band's album, he had to sign more paperwork for these bands. Frank want to do nothing more than lay in bed today, so that's what he was going to do.

Frank would've called Jamia and talked to her on the phone for a bit to see if it would bring him out of his funk, but he didn't have the energy to do so. He felt stuck in his position on his side, facing his window. The curtains weren't pulled back so he was just staring at nothing, darkness surrounding him.

He let his eyes close, a soft sigh coming from his mouth. Winnie was asleep behind him, her head resting beside his. He was jealous of how at peace she seemed all the time, he wanted that for himself. Sometimes he wish he could've been born a dog, then maybe his parents would've loved him for real.

Frank guesses he had his eyes closed for longer than he thought because he heard his bedroom door open and close, his heart rate picking up slightly before his tired brain picked up the smell of Jamia's perfume, and then calming down the slightest bit. He keeps forgetting he made her a key to his place. Seems fast for only dating 8 months, but he felt like it was the right thing considering she hung out there all the time.

He didn't say anything as he heard her lock the door behind her, like he always told her to do whenever she would come over. He still didn't say a word as he felt her shuffle into bed behind him, sitting up against the headboard. But he did shuffle around a little so that his head was laying in her lap, his arm lazily moving to rest over her knees. He felt Winnie move around to accommodate the pair, eventually with her laying by Jamia's legs and settling her head on her ankle.

Frank let out a bigger sigh when he felt Jamia's nimble fingers start running through his hair. It was getting long again, it really needed cutting. But he didn't have the heart to even think about making a hair appointment. Too much work for his exhausted brain, honestly. He pressed his face down into the material of her hoodie she was wearing, or well his hoodie. She basically owned his hoodies now, apparently.

"Didn't hear from you today, got worried." Jamia broke the comfortable silence, her fingernails scratching softly at the back of his head.

"Sorry." That was the only thing he could up with, sadly.

"You're okay, babe. Today's a bad day. Do you wanna talk about it?" She continued, her other hand moving to rub at his back underneath his shirt.

Jamia took his silence as her answer, which she understood.

"You don't have to talk about it right now, but eventually I think it would help you feel better if you tried to explain what's on your mind to me, sweetheart."  

He knew that, he knew that better than anyone else. He slightly nodded into her lap, moving his hand lazily back and forth against her knee, another sigh escaping his lips when she scratched the back of his neck.

"Good, babe. Thank you."

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