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"No. No, you don't get to do that!" You ran in front of Frank, closing the front door and bracing yourself against it. "You don't get to walk away from me like that. Like I don't matter."
Frank stood in front of you, clenching and unclenching his jaw, silent. You hated when he was like this; you knew he was stubborn, but he would even listen to your point of view.
You'd met Frank a long time ago, and quickly got along with him. He'd stumbled into your apartment on accident, beaten and bloody, and you'd patched him up. Your place was one of his safe houses; something you knew he was grateful for, given his night job. The two of you grew closer and closer, seemingly content. But as soon as whatever the two of you had began to turn into something more than friends—as soon as you and him both began to open up, to feel happier—he'd told you that it was too dangerous. That it was best if he left and never came back. That the two of you would be better off without each other.
It was total bullshit, and both of you knew it. You never put up with Frank's bullshit, this was no exception.
His eyes narrowed. "Let me out," he said gruffly.
"No."
He looked away. You knew he could move you if he wanted to. His mouth opened and closed a few times, wanting to say something. Finally, he said quietly, "This isn't safe, alright? Every night I go out there—I'm making enemies. Enemies that would hurt you."
"You think I don't know that?" You grabbed his arm, causing him to look at you. "If I cared one bit, do you think I would be here?" Your voice raised, desperately trying to get him to see through his stubbornness.
He turned away from you. "Why can't you see you aren't safe? It's too damn risky to be with me!" He yelled.
"You don't get to decide that for me!" You shouted right back. There were tears welling in your eyes. "I can live with the risks." He looked away, running a hand through his short hair. "Why don't you see that I want to be with you?"
"You're too..." He trailed off, his voice breaking. "You're too good for me, kid. I can't expose you to the kinda shit I deal with. You don't need that."
You threw your hands up in frustration. "What the hell makes you think I'm too good for you? That you don't deserve this?"
Frank was quiet for a long while. When he finally turned around, he was looking away. "I failed the last time," he said softly. "I couldn't protect them. I'm not doing that again." His eyes moved back to yours, and you realized he was crying. "I can't, you hear me? I..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
Your voice was softer. "You know that wasn't your fault." Your anger, however muted, was still there. "But I'm not letting you walk away like this, damnit! I understand the danger of staying, you know that!"
He wheeled around. "You can't understand it!" He clenched his fists. "You're just too damn stubborn to even think about it!"
You stomped over to him, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "You say this every single time! You give this whole speech about how dangerous you are, how I don't know anything, and you always come back! I'm tired of playing this game, Frank! I'm not something you can push away and come back to when you're bored! I'm saying this for the last god damn time—I don't care about the risks! I can live with it!"
"I can't!" He shouted. "I can't go out, knowing that I'm putting you in danger! Of course you don't care—but you're too selfish to even think that maybe I do! I can't go through that shit again!"
"I'm selfish?" You scoffed. "I stayed up all night waiting for you to come back, and I cleaned you up every single time. I would go days without knowing anything—not knowing if you were alive—only to have you show up, stay half the night, and leave without a word. We were finally getting somewhere, Frank! We were both happy! But no, you just couldn't leave it at that." The tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now. You loved Frank, you couldn't stand the thought of him leaving again.
Frank turned away from you, slinging a bag over his shoulder.
"Don't you dare," you said, your voice cracking. "Don't you leave again. You can't."
"The hell I can't." Without even looking at you, he walked back towards the door.
You covered your mouth, holding in a sob. "If you leave, you don't get to come back." Your voice was barely over a whisper, and you regretted those words as soon as you said them. But you couldn't do it anymore, you couldn't wait for him forever.
Frank froze, hanging his head for a moment. "I told you," he said with a cold resolve. "It's better like that."
When he left the apartment, you allowed yourself to cry. Frank meant so much to you. You didn't know why, but you were always drawn to him. You knew he had feelings for you, too, though he hated himself for it. That's what pained you the most—finding out that Frank thought he didn't deserve to feel things like that again. He loved you, but he wouldn't allow himself to get too close. And now, watching him walk away like all of it was nothing, hurt you more than anything. Sobs wracked your body, and you sat there crying for what seemed like hours. You cried until you couldn't anymore, until the pain became a dull ache, and you just felt numb. After a while, you dragged yourself to your bed, curling up and falling into a fitful sleep.
Frank never could stay away. You wanted to say you were surprised when he showed up in your room that night, his eyes red and puffy with tear streaks down his cheeks. But the fight hadn't driven him away from you. If anything, it pulled him closer.
He crawled into bed and settled behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he muttered things like I'm so sorry and I was wrong and I'll stay.
You shushed him, turning to face him and burying your face in his chest. "I know," you whispered back.
He held you closer to him. "For good this time, I promise. It'll be different."
You were silent for a long while, and Frank thought you were asleep. Finally, you murmured, "For good this time. You swear?"
His arms tightened around you and he buried his face in your hair. "Yeah, kid. I swear."
You drifted off with those words echoing around in your head, a lazy smile on your face. You finally felt that things could go back to the way they were; that Frank would finally allow himself to feel loved. Faintly, you remembered telling him, "I love you, whether you think you deserve it or not." You supposed he finally took it to heart.
You woke slowly, your eyes fluttering open against the morning sun. You were surprised at first, that you were being held. Last night's events slowly came back to you, and you looked up to see Frank still asleep. He looked so peaceful; such a contrast from the man you knew. In his sleep, he reached out to you, instinctively pulling you closer. You smiled to yourself. He stayed the night. You thought that, finally, things could be right again.
You cuddled back up to Frank, relishing in the feeling of his arms around you. You felt that you could stay like this forever, the feeling of him holding you close making your heart thunder in your chest. Maybe he didn't think he deserved this. And maybe it wasn't safe to stay. But right now, as the warmth of the early sun washed over the two of you, you felt like there was no place more safe and right than in Frank's arms.