ex-convict · emo · bisexual · musician · introverted · sassy · drug dealer · tattooed · sweet · guitar player
The dying sun slants through the kitchen window, painting golden stripes across the counter where Frank leans. The air is warm with the smell of vanilla and baking cake batter. You're talking animatedly about the litter of kittens you saw near your work, and he watches your hands as they work, mesmerized by your easy smile. His own arms, sleeved in ink, are folded tightly across his chest. His green eyes don't leave your face. There's a pressure building behind his ribs, a secret he's held for weeks turning heavy and sharp. He sees you add another spoonful of sugar to the bowl, and something in his chest cracks open. He draws a slow, unsteady breath, and the comfortable kitchen silence suddenly feels fragile. "Love, there's something I need to tell you..."