ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

16: Aunt Mabel's Sofa Wrapped Around His Legs

Yesterday's outfit, in Frank's memory, seemed like the better choice to wear at work. Frank would rather have worn the same outfit again if he could because today's outfit was so abhorrent that Frank hadn't even been able to walk into his office yet. Thank God, Gerard wasn't in yet. Frank knew that he hadn't got dressed in the dark, but he hadn't dressed for the second day in a row and Ryan had completely outdone himself with his choices. This was why Frank was in the bathroom, refusing to come out until he had no choice.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He almost refused to look at his own reflection in the large mirror that was sitting above the sinks, but he knew he had to. He knew he was going to have to come to terms with the fact that this was how he was dressed and he was just going to have to deal with it in some way. He just hoped that no one else would say anything to him. He barely knew any of the staff; some of the names he had already forgotten because there had been so many to remember. He didn't want them taking the piss out of him because his boyfriend had dressed him like an old woman's living room. Frank had already removed the burnt orange-red blazer; the intense color that looked amazing on Ryan, but on Frank, it looked like he had just dressed up like some sort of tomato. Frank tossed it over one of the sinks, trying not to look at it. He stood there in the hopes that he could try and downplay his outfit or make it less awful somehow.

Frank finally looked down with a grimace, he couldn't help but wonder if Ryan had done this on purpose. Not only had he been dressed in a heinously bright red blazer, but he had to wear an orange waistcoat over a beige shirt. It was the fact that his pants and his tie matched, it was the fact that not only did his tie and pants much but they were both in the same paisley brown. The same umber shade with red and green pattern all over his legs and the same fucking pattern. Who matched their pants and their tie like that? Ryan was the only one, that Frank had ever seen, wear brown paisley pants. Ryan looked amazing in these pants and they were tailored to his slender thighs and flared out only slightly over his shoes. Ryan could pull off the corporate 70's hippie aesthetic so well. Frank could not. He looked absolutely ridiculous. He wasn't even wearing his own shoes because Ryan had told him that black shoes would ruin the entire ensemble so he was currently wearing a pair of brown slide-ons that were way too big.

Frank took a step back from the sink he had been resting his hands on, staring at himself and his clothing, wondering if it was possible for clothes to just combust on command. It wasn't about to happen and that seemed more nightmarish than the idea of clothing exploding in the first place. Frank unbuttoned the waistcoat, shrugging out of it quickly, dumping it on top of the blazer he had already removed. Did that look better? Frank didn't know as he examined himself in the mirror again. Could he get away with the beige shirt and tie combination? Could he get away with the fact that the shirt really didn't go with the brown paisley pants and the brown shoes and the bright orange belt in the middle?

Even though the patterns were different, Frank felt as though someone had made him an outfit out of Mama June's wedding dress, orange accessories to boot. At least he wasn't wearing camouflage. Although right now, Frank wished that he were, maybe no one would see him then, not like this. Thank God that Frank had chosen to wear brown shoes today despite Ryan's best efforts; Ryan had offered him a pair this morning, saying that they went so well with the trousers. Frank however thought otherwise, especially seeing as Ryan had been handing him a pair of dark green shoes.

And the one thing that bothered Frank right now, it wasn't even the fact that he was wearing three different shades of brown on his bottom half, it was more of the fact that he was actually going to have to go through another workday looking like this. The fact that Ryan had dressed him, even though he had only done it to help him, it made Frank feel like he wasn't even an individual in his new workplace. Just an extension of his boyfriend. Frank felt like he was lacking who he was, his own personality castrated thanks to the dire clothes he was being made to wear. It sucked and he hated how this was making him feel but there was nothing he could do about it for the time being. Frank didn't have a choice but to continue to let Ryan dress him. At least until he got paid. Frank was practically counting down the minutes until he got his first paycheck. When he finally had money, he was going to be buying himself some decent clothes to wear in the office.