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

seventeen: "told you so"

If Frank didn't love vodka so much, he'd swear it off for life.

He knew he had to open the shop the next day, but he didn't think he'd get that drunk. He figured he'd only drink like a quarter of the bottle and he'd be done. No, turns out he drank over half by himself and Jamia only had a quarter of it.  That can't be good for his liver, honestly.

But man he couldn't help it. It just tasted so damn good.

"I told you so, babe."

That's what he heard when he woke up the next day, except he didn't wake up peacefully in his bed with his girlfriend tucked into his side. He woke up and immediately headed straight for the bathroom to puke up everything he consumed yesterday. Meaning the funnel cakes, all that pizza, and even his lunch the afternoon before. Not the funnel cakes, dude, he actually enjoyed those in his stomach.

So yeah, Frank wasn't having a good day already.

"I know, please quit reminding me," Frank replied with his hands over his face, shielding it from sunlight as he sat down in the living room. The sun was his worst fucking enemy today, it just had to be shining that brightly when it knew Frank had the hangover of the century.

God, was everything just insensitive today?

Jamia couldn't help but giggle as she watched her boyfriend curl up onto the couch, his hands and hoodie shielding him from the dreaded sunlight. She knew last night it was going to be like this the next day, so she was already mentally prepared for how this day was gonna go.

She moved over towards his curled up figure, bringing a gentle hand down to rest on top of his that were on his face, rubbing her thumb against the back of one soothingly. As amusing as it is to see your predictions come to light, you also hate to see someone you love sick like that.

"You know I love you, baby."

"Tell that to my migraine," Frank replied sourly, but still enjoying the slight contact their hands are making. It hurt to keep his eyes closed but it also hurt to keep them open, so he just decided to cover up his face to block out the light.

Although, it would be a little difficult to do tattoos with his hands covering his face since you kind of need your hands to do that kind of thing. This was going to be one of the most miserable days of Frank's life and it hasn't even begun yet.

"Do you want me to drive you to work, babe?" He nodded slowly at his girlfriend's question, feeling her pat the top of his head before she moved away from him, probably to go and get him an ice pack. 

"I wish it was legal to install curtains into your car cause I'd do it in a heartbeat to avoid the sun."

"Frank, you have tinted windows."

"Not tinted enough, Jamia, not tinted enough."  

__________________________________________________________________________

"Dude how much did you drink last night?"

"Are you always this irritating or is it just today?" Frank replied to Gerard, sitting himself down at his station. He kept his sunglasses on to avoid the light in the shop, while an ice pack was pressed against his forehead. He knew he was a sight to look at right now but yet again, he didn't give a fuck. 

"You look rough," He heard Gerard retort, which made him let out another groan. He normally didn't mind his best friend's voice but holy shit, it was like a constant siren next to his ear. 

"Aren't you just a sweetheart?" Frank hissed while pressing the ice pack more against his forehead, breathing in and out deeply to keep his nausea down. He could feel Jamia's eyes on him as she sat the front desk, biting down on her bottom lip in concern. Which again, he was not a fan of pity. The pure thought of someone pitying him for something he did to himself made the migraine behind his eyes worsen.