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It’s still kind of weird having the same birthday as Dad, even though Frankie guesses that he should probably be used to it by now.
It’s not that he really even minds it, is the thing: when he was a lot younger, he used to think it was the coolest thing in the world. None of his friends had the same birthday as any of their family members, and when Frankie had told his first ever ASL teacher about it, she smiled and told him how rare that was, how it was only a one-in-three hundred and sixty-five chance that that would’ve happened.
Last year’s birthday was weird. Mom and Dad had just split up, Richie was only a name that Dad said whenever he thought Frankie wasn’t paying attention (and Frankie is always paying attention, especially since the divorce) and it hadn’t been exactly fun. He and Dad argued for a good three hours over how they wanted to do it this year, and - like every other year before, ever since Frankie could remember - Dad had insisted on doing whatever Frankie wanted to do, which irritated Frankie even more.
That’s the worst part about sharing a birthday with Dad, Frankie thinks: the fact that every year, Frankie has to watch Dad make the whole day about Frankie, even though it’s Dad’s birthday, too. It’s always kid birthday parties, whatever flavor of cake Frankie wants, doing whatever interest Frankie has that year, whether it’s dinosaurs or laser tag. Frankie didn’t even realize until his sixth or seventh birthday that Dad never even really got presents; he would get one from Mom, sure, but other than that, outside of a double-digit number candle sitting side-by-side with Frankie’s on whatever flavor cake Frankie chose that year, no one would even really know it was Dad’s birthday, too.
A one-in-three hundred and sixty-five chance, Frankie thinks every year when he and Dad’s birthday rolls around, watching again and again and again as Dad refuses to do anything for himself, choosing once again to sit in the background and let Frankie have all the fun.
Frankie knows that this year will be different, though: Dad is going to be turning forty-one to Frankie’s twelve, and Frankie wants, more than anything, for his father to just do something for himself for once. Their birthday falls on one of Mom’s weeks, for one, and Richie is going to be there this year - that alone will probably push Dad to make plans, to do something probably boring and weird but what he actually wants to do.
Dad’s stubborn, of course. Whenever Frankie tries to ask him what he’s got planned this year, Dad always shrugs and says, “It’s different when you’re older, Frank.”
But Frankie got his own stubbornness from the man himself; sometimes, Frankie thinks that Dad forgets that.
A week before the day, after Richie picks him up from school and offers to take him to grab something quick to eat, Frankie looks at his dad’s fiance (god, that’s still so weird: the fact that Dad and Richie are going to get married, probably soon, and that Richie’s actually going to be his stepdad) and says, very seriously:
“You need to do something for Dad’s birthday.”
Richie coughs on his burger, beating his fist on his chest and spluttering, “Dude, dude.”
Frankie furrows his brow. “You know it’s our birthday next week, right?”
“Dude, what kind of future stepparent do you think I am?” Richie jokes, but Frankie can see the pink tinting Richie’s cheeks, the way he glances away from him, and Frankie knows that it’s still probably weird for Richie, too, the fact that he’s going to actually marry Frankie’s dad and be his stepdad.
(Richie gets a little dodgy sometimes when Frankie asks him questions about his past - he’ll talk about growing up in Derry with Dad and the Losers, sure, but whenever Frankie wants to know about what he did after, about how he spent his college years, how he became a comedian, Richie tries to change the subject, or just shrugs and says, eh, it’s boring, and Frankie knows that that’s Richie-speak for: it was lonely, and it’s clear to Frankie then that Richie is really new to all of this.
But then again, so is Frankie. But if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that having a stepparent doesn’t freak him out or piss him off that much if it’s Richie.)
Frankie looks at Richie imploringly and says, “Okay, so you have plans for Dad, right?”
Richie narrows his eyes teasingly. “What, are you his spy or somethin’?”
Not at all - there’s a lot that Dad doesn’t know, that Frankie doesn’t tell him, won’t (can’t) say.
In Frankie’s silence, Richie takes another bite of his burger and chews it for a while before swallowing and nodding his head. “Frank, you don’t gotta worry, man. I’ve got your old man covered, I promise.”
Frankie breathes a sigh of relief; Richie watches him curiously.
“What about you?” Richie asks, and Frankie glances away, eats a fry.
Honestly, he doesn’t really know about this year. He’s going to be over Mom’s, for one, and Mom’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t really want to go back and forth over anything to do with Dad. And the fact that it’s going to be the first year that he’s spending most - maybe all - of he and Dad’s birthday with Mom is already a little weird, but, more than that, Frankie doesn’t really think that he’s going to do anything big this year. School’s been weird over the past few months.
Maybe weirds not the best word to use. Annoying and shitty is more like it.
Frankie’s never really been super popular or anything: being Deaf in a hearing school isn’t exactly easy. His Catholic school is kindergarten through eighth grade, and a lot of his classmates still seem to view him as the quiet six year-old who couldn’t really communicate with anyone, even though he’s gone through years of speech therapy and learned how to read lips. He has a good circle of friends and after awhile, after pulling a few pranks and getting in trouble in class for messing around with some of his friends, he started to gain a small level of popularity - but ever since someone told someone else that his parents got divorced and his dad started dating another man, it’s been…weird.
There’s a lot of people who think the fact that his dad is dating Richie Tozier is cool, but there’s a few kids who don’t think it’s so awesome.
Frankie takes a sip of his milkshake, remembering a few weeks ago, when one of the guys in his class tried tripping him down the aisle when he was walking out of class. Last Thursday, when someone grabbed the back of his backpack when he was walking and tried unbalancing him. A few of the people he’s known since kindergarten telling him that they weren’t allowed to talk to him anymore.
He hasn’t told Dad or Mom or Richie about any of it, and he doesn’t plan to. It’s not- it could be worse, a lot worse. He’s heard of kids who get the crap beaten out of them every day, about kids who have to transfer out of schools because they got bullied so badly. Frankie knows he can handle it.
It just sucks that he knows that only two of his friends would probably want to actually hang out with him this year for his birthday.
“I’ll probably just hang out with Oliver and Alex,” he tells Richie, which isn’t a lie, exactly: they both have said that they’d like to hang out with Frankie for his birthday, even though they seemed a little bummed that it’d be over Mom’s apartment instead of Dad’s, which Frankie gets.
“No party?” Richie asks, and since Frankie was already expecting the question - he’s had to deal with Mom asking that very same question over and over again, after all - he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a face.
“Probably not,” Frankie says, and then shrugs, taking a fry off of Richie’s tray. “I’m too old for parties.”
Richie shakes his head. “Man, that’s so not true.”
But Frankie doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore, so he refocuses the subject back to Dad and says, “You are gonna do something fun with Dad, though, right?”
“Don’t sweat it, Frank ‘n Beans,” Richie tells him, and Frankie relaxes a little: he knows Richie does, that Richie has Dad’s back. “I’ve got this.”
—
Despite his mother’s dozens of questions about why he doesn’t want to do anything bigger for his birthday this year, Frankie settles on inviting his two closest friends over to Mom’s for the night and getting some pizza and cake. Mom’s oddly agreeable to pretty much everything he’s been asking for, which is pretty rare for the two of them - he and Mom fight a lot more than he and Dad do, and she usually pushes back on everything.
Frankie thinks that this year, she’s just happy that he’s going to be with her for a special occasion and not with Dad, even though it’s Dad’s birthday, too. And as much as they fight, seeing Mom look happy to ask for what color frosting he wants on his ice cream cake (and it’s the first time in years that he’s gotten one, since Dad hates ice cream cake and if there’s one thing that Frankie wanted Dad to have, at least, it’s to have the flavor of cake that they could both agree on) and to actually let him and his friends get pizza instead of reminding him how unhealthy it is makes him feel a sad sense of pity for her.
He doesn’t really know what Richie’s planning since he’s been at his mom’s for the week, but every now and then, Richie will text him and ask him questions.
Richie
You and your dad like lemon raspberry cake, right?
Dad does; Frankie doesn’t, actually. But it’s been the cake that they’ve gotten together for the past three years, ever since Dad had admitted off-handedly one time that it’s his favorite flavor, and Frankie had decided from then on that that’d be the one they got for their birthday.
(He can still remember the look on Dad’s face when they’d first gotten it for Frankie’s eighth birthday; seeing his father’s shy smile when he saw that they’d gotten it had made that entire birthday one of Frankie’s favorites, even though he knows that Dad still thinks that his favorite was his sixth, the dinosaur themed one.)
Yeah
Thnx little man
—
Mom lets Frankie stay home from school for this birthday; it’s a first for him, but he’d asked her a few times over the week if he could, but he’s surprised that she not only let him, but took the day off from work to spend it with him.
“I thought we could spend the day together,” Mom says after wishing him an enthusiastic happy birthday, and then, in a serious tone, “It’s not like you can stay at home by yourself yet or anything.”
Frankie sighs through his nose, narrowing his eyes at her. “I’m twelve, Mom.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
Frankie crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not a baby.”
“You’re always going to be my baby,” Mom says automatically, and there’s a little gleam in her eye that makes Frankie nervous that she’s going to start crying, until she hardens her stare again. “You're still only twelve, anyways. You don't realize how young that really is until you're my age.”
Frankie’s about to say that even Dad lets him stay home alone, that Dad’s chilled out, but before he can, like she can read his mind, or something, Mom cuts in, “I don’t really care what your father lets you do, Frankie, although he knows I don’t like you being by yourself for too long yet. You’re at my house; you live by my rules.”
Frankie shrugs, letting the subject drop. He doesn’t really want to fight with Mom on his birthday, especially when he knows - despite the fact that she gets on his nerves sometimes - that she’s trying. In her own weird way, yeah, but she is trying.
A little while later as they start getting ready to go out and have breakfast, Frankie decides to test the waters and ask, bluntly, “Did you say happy birthday to Dad?”
His mother’s shoulders stiffen; Frankie knows that it wasn’t the right thing to say, but he’s curious.
“I almost forgot,” Mom says, and Frankie raises his brows, surprised, until she continues, “You got some birthday cards from your aunts and uncles and grandma - and you need to actually read them, Frank, not throw them away right after you tear them open. We need to keep track so we can write thank you cards.”
Frankie holds back his sigh - right.
Mom disappears for a moment and comes back with a few envelopes; she frowns when Frankie starts to rip into them too quickly, so he makes a big show out of tearing the paper very, very slowly, opening the cards at a snail’s pace and trying not to stare too hard at the money that’s been left in each of the cards.
None of the cards from Mom’s side of the family ever say anything personal, anyways; he doesn’t really think that he’s that close with any of them, except his grandmother, maybe. It’s just the usual Happy birthday, Frankie, have a good year! along with money - which he’ll gladly take, obviously.
He doesn’t really understand why the impersonal way his mother’s side of the family treats him feels so weird this year in particular until they’re at breakfast and he feels his phone buzzing; his mom is pretty strict on limiting his screen time, but she said that today he can look at it while they’re eating.
Frankie smiles big when he sees text messages from not just Dad and Richie, but from the members of the Losers Club:
Mike
Happy birthday, Frankie! I can’t wait to see you in person again - hopefully sooner than later! I hope you have an amazing birthday!! I have some souvenirs from around the states to give you (don’t tell your dad I spoiled that for you, though ;) ) I miss you, have an amazing 11th birthday!
Bev
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I know it’s only been a few months since we actually got to meet, but I keep waiting until your old man finally takes some more vacation time off so we can hang out again! I hope school has been going well, and I can’t wait to see you again!! Also let your dad know that I texted YOU happy birthday first instead of him, lol. Lmk his reaction!! Have an awesome day, kiddo!
Ben
Happy birthday, Frank!! I really hope your day is going well so far, and I can’t wait until we can hang out again! I hope your 11th birthday is going to be great, you deserve it!!
Bill
Happy birthday kiddo!!!! Miss you a lot, and the next time you see me, I’ll be able to do the entire alphabet in ASL! Have a great day, Frankie, I’ll see you soon!
Stan
Happy birthday! Thank you so much for being such a wonderful friend to Wren and Ava as well - they’ve been begging Patty and I to bring them to New York to see you. You have a good head on your shoulders and are such an amazing kid, I’m very thankful to know you. Have a great birthday, Frankie.
They barely know him, especially in comparison to his mother’s side of the family, who he’s known literally since the day he was born, but Dad and Richie’s friends actually make the effort to talk to him and, most importantly, seem to actually like hanging out with him. He responds to each of them, glancing up when he feels his mother’s eyes on him.
“Who’s that from?” she asks, the hand that’s holding her fork stilling as it hovers over her plate.
“Dad’s friends,” Frankie says, watching as she frowns, fingers gripping tighter around her fork. “They just wanted to say happy birthday.”
His mother blinks once, twice. “Well,” she finally says, looking back down at his plate.
From the angle she’s at, he can’t see her mouth, and it’s not easy to pick up what she’s mumbling with his cochlear’s, so Frankie has to ask, “What?”
She looks back up at him.
“I couldn’t see what you said.”
Mom purses her lips. “I said that’s nice.”
I bet you didn’t, Frankie wants to bite back, but he lets it go for once. Part of him wants to ask her again if she’s wished Dad a happy birthday yet or if she’s going to at all, but he knows that that’s the mean part of him that’s annoyed that she hates Dad and Richie so much in the first place, that gets so aggravated that his parents refuse to get along or even speak to each other anymore.
Mom lets him have a second milkshake for breakfast and he wonders if that’s her way of trying to avoid a fight between them, too.
—
His mom wants to pick up some supplies for when his friends come over later that afternoon, and it’s when they’re at the store that Frankie stops in the middle of the aisle and sees something that he almost instinctively knows that Dad would like, but would never get for himself.
It’s a little childish, and pretty expensive - but despite the amount of times that he tries to tell himself that Dad probably wouldn’t like it, that he might think that Frankie’s just getting it for himself and not for Dad, that it might just collect dust - he knows deep down that Dad would probably appreciate the thought behind it.
He’s never really had money before to buy Dad anything, anyways, but his grandmother gave him a pretty good amount of money this year, and when Frankie tugs the item off the shelf and carries it over to Mom’s shopping cart, she stares at it, brow furrowed.
“I didn’t know you wanted this,” she says, in a tone that suggests to Frankie that she knows what he’s going to say before he actually says it:
“It’s not for me,” Frankie clarifies. “It’s for Dad.”
His mother stares, and before she can say anything else, he continues, “I’m buying it myself, Mom. I want it to be from me.”
Mom’s cheeks start to turn reddish. “The money you got from Grandma and your aunt is for you, Frankie, not your father.”
“I can spend my money on whatever I wanna spend it on,” Frankie bites back, his signs more rapid and mean in line with his tone of voice. “It’s Dad’s birthday, too.”
“Trust me, I know,” Mom hisses, and then looks away.
“Mom, you have to look at me when you’re talking.” Dad knows that. Richie and all of their friends do.
“I said fine, Frankie,” Mom says, shaking her head and starting to push the cart. “Let’s just get what we need and then get out of here.”
Frankie knows he’s pushing his luck, but he decides to shoot off a text to Richie:
are u going to be at dad’s apartment in 1 hour?
Richie
Yeah
Why? Are you okay??
i’m okay
i got dad a present and want to drop it off
i don’t want him to see it yet
Richie
Text me when you’re here and I’ll help you sneak it in
Like Mission Impossible
That’s a movie from the grand ole year of 1996 if you didn’t get the reference, my man
Frankie rolls his eyes, but he’s thankful that Richie is going to help him out - even though Mom’s pissed when Frankie asks her if they can stop by his dad’s apartment on the way back to hers, watching as Frankie tries his hardest to wrap the present in the trunk while they’re parked in the parking lot of the store with her arms crossed over her chest, before huffing, coming over and gently taking the wrapping paper from him and doing it herself.
He smiles at her but she won’t look at him; he feels bad in that moment, knowing he keeps pushing his luck with her, and then he remembers something that his friend Oliver had said the other day when Frankie started talking about his parents: you’re not the adult, they are.
It made Frankie a little mad when Oliver had said that, because for one, Frankie’s a few months older than him, and because two, Frankie’s always thought that he’s been handling everything pretty well. But it’s in moments like these that he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be acting like an adult, or if he needs to be an actual twelve year-old.
Mom stays in the car when they reach Dad’s building; Frankie didn’t really expect her to come, obviously, but he carries the present over to the elevator and hopes that Richie’s either kicked Dad out of their apartment, or that maybe he’ll meet Frankie in the hallway and they’ll do some sort of team effort into sneaking it into the apartment behind Dad’s back.
When Frankie knocks on the door, his eyes widen when it opens and Mike’s standing on the other side, a big grin on his face.
“Hey!” Mike says, and Frankie nearly drops the present in shock.
He can see movement from behind Mike, and Frankie sees Bev, Bill, and Ben - Richie pops in a moment later, laughing at Frankie’s expression.
“Surprise?” Richie says.
“I think it’s like this,” Mike says from Richie’s side, signing it near-perfectly; Richie groans.
“Man, stop upstaging me.”
“You guys are all here?” Frankie asks, following everyone into the apartment as Richie shuts the door behind him.
“Stan and Patty couldn’t make it since it’s a school week,” Richie tells him, gesturing to the others. “But all the cool people are here - well, minus Bill, but.”
“Man, whatever,” Bill laughs.
Frankie’s a little bummed about that, since he’d love to see Stan and Patty and their daughters again - but he sets Dad’s present down and accepts Bev’s hug.
“I missed you so much!” Bev tells him earnestly, and he can see by her expression that she really means it.
“I missed you guys too,” Frankie tells her genuinely, ducking when Ben tries to ruffle his hair and moving to give him a side hug. “Where’s Dad?”
“We kicked him out,” Bev tells him, glancing down at the present. “What’s that?”
“A surprise,” Frankie tells her, cocking his head to the side. “What do you mean, kicked him out?”
“I sort of, you know,” Richie shrugs, giving Frankie a wink. “Hid the paper towels from him and told him we needed more.”
Frankie nods. “You hid them in the closet in the hall, right?”
“You know it, dude.”
Frankie grins, and then he glances around, realization dawning on him. “Wait, you’re throwing Dad a party?”
“A little something,” Richie says, but Frankie feels a sense of relief: it’s really all he’s wanted for Dad, to have friends get together for him, to have an actual party for himself for the first time in twelve years.
“I even bought those popping confetti things,” Mike laughs.
But before Frankie can say anything else, Bill goes oh, wait and disappears for a moment, reappearing with a gift bag for him. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
Frankie stares down at it, not really sure what to say, until Mike, Ben, and Bev all go and grab their own presents for him.
“You guys, um,” Frankie says, blinking a few times and setting the presents down so he can free his hands, “You guys got me stuff?”
“It’s your birthday, too,” Ben tells him kindly.
“I hope you like it - but I’m not going to be offended or anything if you don’t, so just yell at your dad for me if I got the wrong thing,” Bev says with a smile, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder lightly as she tugs him into a gentle side hug.
“I’m pretty sure you’ll like what I got you,” Bill adds, to which both Bev and Richie boo him.
Richie’s much shyer than everyone else when he gives Frankie his present; Frankie tries rattling it around and putting it by his ear as a joke to make Richie laugh, but he can see how bashful Richie looks and settles for giving Richie a quick but firm hug instead.
“Thank you,” Frankie says, unable to meet their eyes. It’s not that he’s going to like - cry, or anything, but it’s a lot for him. He doesn’t want them to worry about him, so he smiles big and grabs the present he got for Dad, handing it over to Richie. “Tell Dad he can open it tonight, okay? He doesn’t have to wait for me or anything.”
“You sure?” Richie asks, furrowing his brow.
“Yeah,” Frankie tells him, shrugging. “It’s okay.” He glances back at everyone else, sighing, “I have to go, though. My mom’s waiting downstairs for me.”
“It’s really good to see you again, even if it was just for a few minutes,” Ben tells him earnestly, laughing as Frankie hugs him again. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
“Can you guys, um,” Frankie shuffles his feet a little, swallowing. “Can you take a video of when you sing happy birthday to Dad?”
Richie’s eyes soften. “Of course. I’ll make sure we get it for you.”
“Thanks,” Frankie says, bending down to grab his presents. “I’m really glad you guys came.”
“I think everyone is going to be in town on Sunday when you get back here,” Bev says, smiling down at Frankie. “I don’t know how it is when you come over here for the week, but if there’s time, do you wanna do something? If that’s okay, of course.”
Frankie nods quickly. “Yeah, we should.” He feels his phone buzz in his pocket, and he knows he has maybe two minutes before his mom calls the cops to come and drag him out of here. “I’ll see you guys later. Thanks for the presents.”
He makes sure to say goodbye to everyone and ducks out before they can see the emotion on his face; he doesn’t really like getting emotional around people, and Frankie’s glad that he has time in the elevator to wipe his tears away before Mom can see and get the wrong idea.
She zeroes in on the presents right away, brow furrowed. “You got presents,” she says after a while, watching as Frankie places them on the passenger seat floor carefully.
“Yeah,” Frankie says, holding the one Richie got for him on his lap. “A few of Dad’s friends were able to come over for a party.”
“Good for him,” Mom says in a firm voice.
—
Frankie’s party isn’t that bad at all - it’s actually pretty fun, despite the fact that it’s the smallest party he’s had. But Oliver and Alex are having a good time, and even Mom seems like she’s having fun - she laughs at a few of the stuff they all tell her about school, asks his friends how their families are and thanks them for coming, even offers to let them spend the night and take them all to school the next day.
“Your mom is pretty cool tonight,” Alex comments when Mom goes into her bedroom for a moment.
Frankie nods, titling his head to the side. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of weird.”
Mom comes back with her gift for him, setting it to the side. “Let’s do the cake first, presents after.”
Frankie’s pretty excited to have an ice cream cake again - even Oliver grins at him, saying, “Dude, I thought we were going to have lemon raspberry all over again,” and Frankie’s thankful that his mom doesn’t understand enough ASL when he tells Oliver, “My dad likes that flavor, not me.”
It’s a really good birthday, even if it’s just two of his friends this year. Mom seems like she’s having a good time, smiling as she watches Frankie open up his gifts from his friends (even though she seems a little annoyed that Alex got him another video game), looking happy as Frankie opens up her gift for him - some clothes, as per usual, but also a new case for his Nintendo and a few comic books that he’s been looking at for a few months.
“Thanks, Mom,” Frankie tells her, letting her squeeze him for a hug; he can see her eyes are a little damp when she pulls back, and he flips off Oliver and Alex when her back is turned when they lightly tease him.
“Did you open up your other presents?” Alex asks.
“Um,” Frankie glances at Mom, watches as her shoulders stiffen a little. “We can do it in my room, if that’s okay, Mom.”
Mom turns and nods; Frankie’s a little startled to see that she actually looks relieved, but figures that it’s probably for the best.
The three of them go to his room to open up the gifts from Richie and the Losers, and Frankie’s throat tightens with emotion as he starts to open them.
He can see that a few of them got him gift cards and money - probably because almost all of them are rich, Alex jokes - but all of the gifts that the Losers got him are thoughtful, some things he’s either asked for months ago or maybe mentioned in passing that he wanted, but a few of them are things he didn’t ask for at all, but are incredibly personal.
Bill got him a few games for the Nintendo 64 that Richie gave him a few months back, along with a couple of older Mario character plushes - things that Frankie is vaguely aware are much older, retro, as Richie says, and therefore a little more difficult to find and pricey, implying that Bill went out of his way to carefully choose each item for him.
Ben’s gift almost makes him cry: he seemingly made Frankie a box for his cochlear charger, small enough that Frankie can put it in his backpack and not worry about it getting scuffed or damaged. He has a combined gift with Beverly - it looks like they both either designed or got someone else to make personalized covers for his transmitters: it’s a black cover with little green skulls on it, and Frankie has to blink back the wetness in his eyes.
Bev got him some clothes, but unlike the normal, usual stuff his mom buys him - which are all essentially just her taste, really - Bev seemed to notice that he likes darker and baggier clothes. He doesn’t know a lot about the brands, but Oliver says that Affliction is a pretty cool brand, and when Frankie looks at the graphics on the shirt, he has to agree.
Mike got him souvenirs from his travels around the States; Dad’s told him a lot about how Mike had never left Derry until they all reunited last year, and Frankie smiles when he sees the postcards and trinkets from States that Frankie’s never been to before, but hopes that one day he will.
(Maybe one day we can all go together, Mike writes on the inside of his card, and Frankie’s heart warms at the gesture.)
Frankie saves Richie’s gift for last; he swallows thickly when he sees the video games and comics that Richie got him, along with a few smaller Lego sets that he can remember joking with Richie about wanting weeks ago.
Richie’s card makes Frankie’s eyes water; he has to scrub his sleeve over his face a few times, hoping that his friends are too caught up in oogling over his other presents to see:
Happy birthday, Frank ‘n Beans!
I’m really happy that I can be here this year to celebrate your birthday with you and to actually get you something. You only turn 11 once, little man!
I hope you have an amazing birthday, kiddo. I’m really happy that I got to see your Dad again after all those years for a lot of reasons, but one of the biggest ones has to be because you and I got to meet, too. I’m really excited that I’m going to be your stepfather. I can’t wait to celebrate more birthdays with you in the future.
Rock on, lil man!
At the bottom of the bag is a platypus plush; Frankie’s taken back to the trip that he and Richie took to the Museum of Natural History a few weeks back, where Frankie told him that platypuses are his favorite animal, and he scrubs his face with the back of his shirt sleeve again.
“Dude,” Oliver says, looking over at all the presents. “Your dad’s side of the family is so cool.”
Your dad’s side of the family. That’s what the Losers are now, right? He knows that Stan’s daughters call everyone their aunt and uncles, and over the past few weeks Frankie’s wondered if maybe he could start doing the same - even though Dad assured him that he doesn't have to if he doesn’t want to, that no one would be offended if he just used their first names, but maybe that’s what all of them are now.
After a little while of playing games and eating pizza, Frankie’s phone buzzes, and he smiles when he sees it’s a video from Richie.
Frankie can’t really hear much of the video - it’s not always easy to pick up everything with his cochlear’s - but he doesn’t really need to, he thinks: seeing Dad wearing a birthday hat as his friends and Richie stand around him, laughing as he wipes at his eyes and looking down at what seems like forty-one candles shoved on the top of his cake - that’s enough for Frankie.
Towards the end of the video, Dad smiles up at the camera and tilts his head to the side, smiling and then signing, “Happy birthday, Frankie. I love you.”
Love you too, Frankie thinks automatically, smiling.
—
On Sunday when Mom drops him off, Dad lets him know that everyone’s still in town and wants to have a late lunch together; Frankie’s more than eager, since he wants to be able to thank all of them for his gifts in person. Dad smiles big when he sees that Frankie’s wearing one of the shirts that Bev got him, and already has the new customizations stuck onto his transmitter.
“Oh, before we go,” Dad says, leading Frankie into the kitchen.
Frankie furrows his brow when he sees that his present to Dad is sitting on the counter, unopened; he looks up at his dad, blinking.
“I told Richie that you could open that on our birthday,” Frankie reminds Dad, and Dad frowns.
“I wanted to open our gifts together,” Dad says, and Frankie - a little stubbornly - gets frustrated, thinking that this is what he was trying to avoid: Dad thinking that he had to sacrifice his day for Frankie once again.
But Dad looks excited to give Frankie his gift, and he still seems a little taken aback that Frankie even got him something in the first place, so Frankie lets it slide, nodding.
“I, um,” Frankie says as Dad starts to open his gift, suddenly shy. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I’m not going to be mad.”
“Hush,” Dad says sharply, ripping open his present. When he gets the wrapping paper off, he furrows his brow, blinking a few times and looking up at Frankie, expression unreadable.
“I just,” Frankie shrugs, looking away from his dad briefly before continuing, “I dunno. You’ve always really liked cars, and…I know it’s for kids, but I thought…” He sighs, “I dunno. Maybe we could do it together, or something. Or I’d just build it for you, and you could put it-”
Dad reaches over and wraps him in a tight hug; Frankie oofs, shocked.
When Dad pulls back, he’s got a big smile on his face, and his eyes are watery. “Frankie, I love legos,” he says, and Frankie actually didn’t really know that - at least not for sure. He just saw the car set and thought that since Dad’s always liked cars, that maybe he’d at least think it was cool looking. “And we could build it together, definitely. Thank you so much, I-” He blinks a few times and wipes at his eyes. “Oh, wow. This is one of the best presents I’ve gotten.”
Frankie doesn’t know if that’s true - he figures that Richie or one of the Losers probably got Dad something nice and expensive, especially since they probably know Dad’s tastes a lot better than he does. But Dad looks serious; he grabs the box and is turning it over, and when Frankie watches him, he feels like he’s getting a glimpse of what Dad looked like at Frankie’s age.
—
They go out to a late lunch with everyone else; Stan and Patty Facetime during it, telling Frankie that their gift to him should be delivered in a couple of days, which leads to a debate between everyone about tracking numbers that Frankie almost falls asleep during.
Wren and Ava even make appearances; Frankie gets a little choked up when they do happy birthday for him entirely in ASL - even more so when Frankie sees that their signs are actually pretty good, indicating that they’ve taken the time to not only practice, but to make sure that they’re doing it correctly.
Towards the end of the dinner, Frankie stares in confusion when he sees a few servers appear with a slice of cake; he looks up at Dad, confused, until Dad says, “We didn’t get to do it together this year.”
Frankie is about to get frustrated, until he sees the emotion in Dad’s eyes again, and it dawns on him that maybe Dad likes sharing a birthday with Frankie, more than he ever thought he did.
Frankie swallows when he touches the slice with a fork and sees that it’s an ice cream cake.
“You hate ice cream cake,” Frankie says.
“What kind of monster hates ice cream cake?” Richie asks, reaching around to squeeze Dad’s shoulder.
“Well, it’s your favorite,” Dad says, pointedly ignoring Richie. After a second, he adds, “And you haven’t been able to get it for the past few years.”
Frankie smiles up at his father, nodding; he gestures to the candle, laughing a little as Dad winces when he notices that the slice is melting.
“Can we blow it out together?” Frankie asks, and Dad nods instantly.
In unison, they lean over and blow out their candle.