Frank has never been lost in his life. He knows this city like the back of his hand and could trace the routes he uses everyday like one of his tattoos. Being a bike messenger in NYC is rough work, though, and when he takes a spill in front of the Guggenheim one night, he realizes that there is more hidden in plain sight than down any dark alley way. [ I did not write this story and do not claim to. All the right to this story goes to FranklyMrShankly on ao3. I am simply publishing it here because it does not appear to be on wattpad, enjoy!]