Work Text:
The paper cup is warm, its contents fueling this chilly morning. You’re tucked into Frankie’s side, your favorite spot to reside on the weekends.
It’s the third Sunday of the month. Which means it’s not your slow serene kind of morning. But sometimes sacrifices equal greater rewards.
The house you share with Frankie is modest but homey.
When you moved in, while spacious, it was lacking a sense of style. No fault to Frankie, the man is simple in his ways and never put much thought into decorating his home.
That was years ago. Since then, with Frankie’s approval, you’d been able to meld both of your aesthetics to design your home— his warm earthy tones and your contemporary mid century modern.
But it was your shared appreciation for all things from decades before that gave character throughout the space. Items laced with history from those who had previously owned them.
Thrift stores and flea markets are where you both visited frequently.
That’s where you find yourselves this morning. Bundled in layers, ready to browse through a treasure trove of collectibles and piles of rare nicknacks strewn out for pickers to rummage through.
You didn’t necessarily need any one item in particular. Through thrifting together, you’d both found a love for collecting.
Frankie’s collection of vinyls was impressive. He had a real knack for finding some old gems. His most prized one being Prince’s Purple Rain album. More often than not, it was streaming through your home.
He was diligent in his purchases. Each album had to hold meaning or reference a time in his life.
You found joy in collecting old film cameras. You’d grown up before digital was the norm, and pictures took close to a week before you were able to see them. You love the accessibility of your phone for quick snaps but there’s just something about the click and winding of a vintage camera body.
Frankie appreciated the photos around your home even more so because they were taken by you. Your sweet little Canon AE-1 was always stowed in your bag when leaving the house. It accompanied you on many camping trips to the mountains. It was always with in arms reach during barbecues with the guys— you made each of them photo books through out the years of birthdays, weddings and group vacations.
Today your find yourselves digging through a pile of well worn tshirts, Frankie’s second love. It’s stacks and stacks of band tees, the images so faded they’re just barely visible. They’re aged to perfection, the fabrics so buttery soft from years of wear and tear.
You’d gifted Frankie a vintage Fleetwood Mac shirt when you’d first got together. It had quickly become his favorite. Dark blue, faded in some areas now littered with holes all over it. The offer to replace had been brought up several times, but he refused stating it was just starting to break in and fit right— it makes the man happy.
Sifting through a few piles, he’d found a few winners— new to him Styx and Rolling Stone tees.
Frankie and you have a love affair with books. Your home is filled with them, any and every subject. Early on in dating, Frankie had mentioned his aversion for reading when he joined the army. With all the studying he’d done over the years for flight school, he swore he’d never pick up a book again. But it was on his first deployment, the long days filled with trepidation and uncertainty, where he found books were the one thing that made his down time a little more tolerable. They kept his mind busy getting lost in the pages, the words leaving a lasting impression on him. Books were his escape.
You’d found him a first edition of East of Eden, the book that resolved his love for reading. He’d briefly mentioned it on your second date, a mere fact he’d given that you tucked away for a later time. When he’d unwrapped it 3 years later for Christmas, he was speechless. It was in perfect mint condition, every page crisp and pristine— but also he was so in awe that you’d remembered such a small thing he had mentioned years prior. It sits on his nightstand now, his watch and glasses placed on top neatly every night before climbing into bed, nestling himself against your sleeping frame.
It’s a small stack of books that you’ve both decided were worthy of a new shelf life in your home. Their pages grayed and worn with faintly legible marks littering the page margins, a glimpse into the thoughts of those who’d found wisdom among the lengthy chapters. Both of you looking forward to adding your own remarks in time.
Items tucked away in the trunk safely, as Frankie drives you home. The leather creaks as you shift forward to adjust the vents, the air ambient and warm. You relax back into the seat, sensation slowly coming back to your frozen fingers. Movement from the driver’s seat pulls you from thought. Frankie’s saying something, but the afternoon sun is filtering through the driver side window— you’re taken aback by his backlit presence.
The golden rays peeking through his over grown curls. That breathtaking dimple making an appearance as he reflects on the day, your life’s mission to make him smile just so you can witness it. He’s a force that makes life memorable and authentic.
You both haven’t moved since settling into your be couch when you arrived home, not before trading your warm layers for one of Frankie’s soft tees and leggings. Containers of pasta from your favorite Italian cafe are strewn out on the coffee table— stomachs satiated and nearly bursting. The low hum of the record player fills the room, Purple Rain. Frankie flips through one of the books from today, dog-earing pages as he reads.
The weekend nears its end with work life on the horizon. Your mind is already reeling with what’s in store for next weekend.