𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓, p. parker

xvi. ugly truth

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ ── ᴜɢʟʏ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ

               FRANKIE HAD CHANGED. This was to be expected though but Peter never thought it would be to this extent. She no longer smiles, only giving half grins with empty eyes and when Peter does or say something stupid, the usual sarcastic teasing to follow is lost and was instead replaced by silence. She very rarely leaves her apartment, usually spending her days curled up on the couch, a blanket over her becoming dangerously thin frame, a book open and the TV on a random channel as background noise.

Most times, Peter has to remind her to eat or drink water and other times, all he wants to do is curl up and cry. He feels as though he's failed and abandoned her all at once. It feels as though Frankie should be furious at him. She should be screaming and cursing his name but instead he's met with what can only be indifference.

At night though, once they're bathed in darkness, Frankie holds on to him so tightly it feels as though she wants to climb under his skin. Very rarely, she cries, letting him hold him but most times, she kisses him. She kisses him hard and passionately till his lips are bruised and they can both barely breath. Maybe it's her way to release her emotions. Maybe it's her way to pull him closer, needing a part of them to connect or maybe she just wants to but whatever the case may be, Peter let her. She can use him however she wants. It doesn't matter. He's all hers.

"Don't leave me," she says one night when sirens were heard piercing through the silence of the room, voice thick and rough, hands clutching his shirt so tightly, her fists had turned white. She sounds small and broken, terrified that he'd disappear any moment between her fingers. Her heart picks up, her fingers start to tremor and she attempts to pull him closer to her.

How do you know the last time is the last? How do you know when to say goodbye before someone goes? Was she supposed to know that she was meant to say goodbye to Stephen that night? Were there signs telling her that it would be the last time she'd see her brother? Did she just miss it? Was she not paying enough attention? How was she supposed to know that it's time to say her final i love you, that he would be gone in a few hours and she'd never get the chance to again? She should have recorded his laugh, his voice, the way he teased her. She should have taken more pictures of his smile. She should have told him how much she loves him, how amazing he is. She should have done more, but she didn't.

Because the truth is you never know and now the possibility of it, the bitter truth that you can lose someone in a blink of an eye, that one thing can be perfect one second and come crashing down the next is a terrifying concept that Frankie now has to live with. Every time Peter leaves, she wonders if it's the last. Is it the last hug? Is it the last kiss? Will she get to hold him tomorrow? "Please."

Peter swallowed thickly. He knew he should probably go. He should take care of the city he's meant to protect but the problem was that Peter would watch the world burn if Frankie asked him to. And that in itself should be a problem but he can't quite find himself caring so instead his arms around her tightened, inhaling the soft scent of jasmines clinging to her skin. "I won't."

That seems to calm her down enough to relax her body against him again and between the beats of her heart, his soul crumbled.

_._._

               GWEN CALLS. She calls everyday, sometimes more than once and every time Frankie doesn't answer, guilt eats away at her and she has to remind herself that it's okay. It's okay that she doesn't want to talk to anyone aside from Peter. It's still socially acceptable for her to ignore everyone who cares about her. They'd say it's her grief, her way of mourning. And they would be right. Isolation is the greatest coping mechanism.