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Frenchie has always been a weepy drunk. Calypso’s birthday party has devolved into drunken debauchery around him. His friends don’t seem to notice him having an utter breakdown and while that thought would be comforting to his sober self, he can’t handle it now.
He curls up against some barrels, holding his knees to his chest and shuddering out uneven sobs. Frenchie can’t remember why he started crying but all he’s certain of now is that he can’t stop.
His heart is thumping in his ribcage in a rhythm he’s never heard. He couldn’t play it if he tried. A nearby sound breaks him from his spiraling. Thump, step, thump, step, thump, step.
A gloved hand is laid gingerly on Frenchie’s shoulder and he snaps his head to look up at the man it belongs to. He sniffs.
“Oh hey, Iz.”
“What’s the matter, lad?”
“I um… I’m not actually sure. But something definitely is. Everyone’s having fun. I should be having fun. Are you having fun?”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever had fun, Frenchie. I’m not the right person to ask. How’d you like to come above deck with an old man for a while?”
Frenchie looks up at Izzy from under wet eyelashes and nods hastily. Izzy extends a hand and helps him get to his feet. They stumble for a few moments until they start walking arm in arm, Frenchie’s added height and Izzy’s uneven gait making them sway side to side.
The men manage to make it up the stairs albeit slowly. Izzy looks down to the ocean, holding onto the side rail and Frenchie collapses at his side, feet sticking straight out, head cocked back to look up at him.
“I miss my mum,” He blurts out before he can stop himself.
The tears start welling back up and he squeezes his eyes shut to hold them back.
There’s silence for a moment and Frenchie worries about what Izzy thinks, blubbering on him like this, his head beginning to lean into the smaller man’s side.
“Is she alive?” Izzy asks gently.
Frenchie shakes his head.
“Miss mine too. Never stops. I carry her with me,” Izzy says while fidgeting with the ring around his neck.
“You think our mums would be proud of us?”
“Fuck no.”
They both start laughing. Izzy’s hand turns from the railing and comes to rest in Frenchie’s hair.
“This alright?” He asks.
“Yeah,” Frenchie responds, melting into the touch. “Sing for me?” Frenchie asks, eyes fluttering shut.
Izzy’s hand glides over his hair to the nape of his neck, fingertips dipping below his collar.
“I mostly know shanties. You saw my soft side earlier.”
“I liked it.”
“Don’t want you getting used to it.”
“Why not?”
“Doesn’t end well for me. Being seen,” Izzy confesses, hand still idly petting and stroking Frenchie’s neck.
“I don’t think anybody’s ever seen me. The real me, mind.” Frenchie slumps further sideways into Izzy.
“You’re young, there’s time. Take it from an old fool like me.”
“You’re not a fool, Iz. Smartest bloke I know,” Frenchie says earnestly.
“Didn’t deny my being old, I see,” Izzy replies with a smirk.
“You’re not! Just older’n me. Still well fit though,” Frenchie blurts.
Izzy pulls his hand back from Frenchie’s head.
“You don’t need to flatter me, Frenchie,” Izzy sighs.
“M’not! I swear!” Frenchie tips back so quickly he whacks his head on a railing, eyes staring at Izzy, the anxiety is flooding back in.
“Alright, alright, calm down,” Izzy shushes, hand returning to its petting. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, you surprise me,” Izzy says.
“Good surprise or bad?” Frenchie asks.
“Always good with you.” Izzy smiles.
“That’s not usually the case for you, is it?” Frenchie reaches out, lacing his fingers with Izzy’s.
“To say the least.” Izzy’s fingers stroke across Frenchie’s knuckles. “Feeling alright now?”
Frenchie nods, nuzzling his cheek into their joined hands. “I wish I could tell you all the things in my head right now. They’re buzzing around in circles. Can’t seem to grab them.”
“Will you regret any of them come the morning?” Izzy asks sincerely.
“I’d regret not saying anything more. Been trying to work up the courage for ages.” Frenchie presses a kiss to the top of Izzy’s hand.
Izzy’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush.
Frenchie pulls himself to stand up after a bit of wobbling and takes both of Izzy’s hands in his.
“You deserve kindness, Izzy Hands. You deserve to be cared for. I’d like to be that person. I want to be sweet to you…Would you let me?”
“I think… I’d like to hold you tonight. Come first light, ask me that again” Izzy replies as he plants a kiss to each of Frenchie’s hands.
Frenchie grins, feeling suddenly much lighter, kissing Izzy’s forehead and stumbling with him back to the first mate’s cabin.