ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

22: I Am How You See Me, Nothing More, Nothing Less

He couldn't go home after leaving the hospital, he couldn't bear to set foot in that house. Not now, Frank had thought to himself as he drove, trying to wipe his eyes on his arm in order to actually see the road. He had just wanted to do one thing and one thing alone, and that involved finding a bar somewhere and drinking himself into a stupor. He hadn't stayed long at the bar. Frank had just wanted some peace and quiet while he drank alone, drinking to his friend who was no longer of this world. That thought alone had broken his heart into more pieces than breaking up with Ryan. He may have felt alone when he left Ryan, but now he felt completely alone because his friend who had taken him under her wing was now gone. Dead, the bitter truth still sinking in a bit slower when Frank was drinking his Jack and ginger.

He never got his peace thanks to some drunk guy who chose to sit next to him at the bar, wanting to strike up a slurred conversation with him. Frank insisted that he wasn't in the mood for talking, but the drunkard still pushed, nudging at him and trying to coax him into some conversation about ice hockey. Frank was not in the mood, fighting back tears while he sipped his drink. The guy just wouldn't leave him alone and as much as Frank just wanted to shout at him, he didn't have the energy to do it. In drunk annoyance, the older man gave up trying to talk to him, but what he muttered to Frank before he sauntered off, that's what felt like a sudden punch to the gut for him, "Jeez, asshole, who died?"

Frank left after that, leaving his unfinished drink on the bar as he stumbled from his seat, biting back a sob. The tears stung and blinded him while he fought with his car keys, trying to get the godforsaken door open so he could just drive somewhere. Anywhere. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts and maybe a bottle of something to numb his aching heart. The liquor store had definitely been the next port of call, but sitting in the car park of a closed book store, drinking a small bottle of Jack Daniels that really did taste disgusting by itself. That didn't have the same appeal as Frank first thought it would and drowning his sorrows suddenly didn't feel like the right thing to do. Passing out in his car after drinking too much was probably not the best thing to do, either. Being alone made him feel like all he could do was cry and he would have no one there to help him. No one to tell him that one day everything was going to be okay all over again.

Frank swiped his card against the door, hoping and praying that someone- Anyone- was still in the office. It was dark' it didn't look like there was a single light on/ The only way he would know straight away was if he went around the back and looked in through the windows, but that would have looked suspicious. Even with the alcohol that had his brain in a fuzz, he wasn't in the mood for sneaking around. He just wanted some company, even if it was some random colleague from his office. He knew exactly who he wanted to see, but with how his day had been going thus far, he didn't have his hopes very high.

The whole office was in darkness. He walked down the main hall, seeing a few computer monitors still on, but there was no sign of life in the whole place. No sound, no movement at all. Frank snuck his head round into his own office, seeing Gerard's door. Nothing. More darkness. He wasn't here and Frank's heart sunk in his chest; this had been it. It was either going to be Gerard or Ryan and Frank had gone to look for Gerard first because he really didn't want to have to choose his ex just because he needed someone to be there for him. But, what if Ryan didn't want to be there for him? What if he didn't want to be a shoulder for which Frank was meant to cry? Or what if he did? What if Ryan was willing to take him back in with open arms and forget everything that had happened? Frank knew he was vulnerable, and despite the scary idea of going to Ryan first, he didn't want to make a mistake that he was going to end up regretting.

Frank walked down into the main room with all the computers, looking over everything before he sniffed, trying to hold it together. Frank reached into his pants, going for his phone. He wondered if he should at least text Ryan first to let him know that he wasn't okay and that he needed someone to be there for him. Frank remembered that Ryan didn't care too much for Jamia and that she was far too close to him for Ryan's liking, but still, was he really going to keep hold of that stupid problem when she had just died? Frank hoped not as he fought back more tears, opening up his messages, beginning to type out Ryan's number because he no longer had it on his phone. Thank god he still remembered it as he started to type out his message to him.