Work Text:
Franklin Shepard sat in the back of a cab somewhere in Los Angeles. He didn't know where he was or where he was going, but he knew he had to be somewhere. Somewhere where there's nothing to remind him. Still, when he climbed into the backseat of the slightly sketchy vehicle, he told the driver that his destination was the airport. Any place away from this city, away from Gussie, away from snotty rich actors and producers that he felt like he was becoming one with.
He hadn't even touched a piano since he moved here.
His mind swept over the night and all events from the party that had just occurred. Mary throwing things and leaving him alone with people he secretly despised. Mary leaving him--most likely for good, which he should have expected. He had nobody except Gussie, considering he didn't count the other attendees as his friends. He felt that the cab driver was closer to him than those privileged snobs.
As they came to a stop at Los Angeles International Airport, Frank threw a one-hundred-dollar bill at the driver and scrambled out, making a silent agreement with himself that he would get on the first flight he could find.
He located the ticket counter and approached the agent. She smiled up at him in a manner that suggested how much she hated her job. He handed over his ID, and she skimmed it before handing it back to him.
"Franklin Shepard..." she began, "The name sounds familiar. Have you done work in Hollywood?"
"Oh, hah, no," he lied, "I'm flattered, however."
"Have I slept with you before?"
Frank felt his face get hot. "I don't believe so, no ma'am."
"Excuse me, then. Where would you like to fly?" she said, jumping back on topic with ease.
"What's the next available flight?"
"There's a flight to-"
"How long until it departs?" he cut her off.
"10 minutes, going to-"
"I'll take it," Frank finalized, not bothering to hear where it's headed. The agent handed him a printed ticket, and he immediately booked it towards the gate, breezing through security. He saw the gate number before he heard the words that made him freeze as he approached it.
"Flight to Laguardia Airport in New York City, New York final boarding call."
Frank froze, his feet suddenly refusing to move. He hadn't spoken to Charley Kringas in 4 years, since the TV incident. He remembered walking out of the building, mid interview, being bombarded by paparazzi and everyone else he didn't want to see. Throwing away his best friend of nearly 20 years wasn't a light topic for Frank, as it is for anyone. He elbowed his way through the sudden crowd, probably bruising a few shoulders and jaws on his journey. Jerome sat in his car outside, patiently waiting. Frank startled him considering how early he had gotten released from the interview, but the look in his eyes as he climbed into the backseat told Jerome to let it go.
Frank quickly moved to the lady behind the counter, handing her his ticket and sprinting onto the plane. It's not like he had to see Charley anyways, Frank doesn't even know where he lives. And the odds of them running into each other had never been lower.
Or so his mind had told him.
--<>--
The ride from the airport to "anywhere in Times Square" (as per requested by Frank to the taxi driver) was a form of relaxation. Like a vacation. Having nothing to worry about, especially being on the other side of the country from his problems was rather nice for a change.
The driver stopped him right around the center, or as close he could get. The first thing Frank noticed was a payphone, and he knew he should call Gussie--you know, so she didn't send a search crew his way--but something stopped him. Most likely his fear. He directed his focus towards the course of his old apartment with Charley. Charley obviously wasn't there anymore, so he made a bold move and took long steps towards that direction.
As he was walking, he noticed old buildings and bars that him, Mary, and Charley used to go to. One in particular he recalled, where every Friday night him and Charley would perform a few numbers from Take a Left for the customers. Almost like a preview. People would drop money in their tip jar as they went, and it was continuous until Frankly Frank began. Mary would always stay and watch, as late as she could.
Shit. Mary.
Frank located a payphone and reached into his pockets to locate and pull out a few quarters, which he did successfully. He dialed her number and picked up the phone, sliding the shiny coins in.
"Hello?" Frank heard from the other end. She sounded hungover and annoyed, which was exactly what Mary always sounded like when he called her.
"Mary?" Frank attempted to say, though it came out as more of a plea. Frank felt weak the moment the name left his lips, and he missed her. He wanted to be held by her, just a quick and comforting embrace. But even if he wanted it, he didn't love her back, and it would only lead her on more until she cracked again.
As long as she didn't hang up, that is. "It's 1:00 in the morning, Frank. What could you possible need?" she harshly questioned, making Frank suddenly remember the three-hour time difference.
"Mary, I'm in New York."
Silence followed, louder than any words she could have responded with.
He continued, "I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't face you or Gussie or any of those fuckers that attended the party. I just needed to get out. And I need to apologize; I'm just so lost in my life right now-"
"Have you seen Charley yet?" she said, cutting Frank off with a simple interrogation.
"No," he stated blankly, "I wasn't planning on it."
"If I had the money right now, I would wonder over to that damn payphone and bring Charley closer to you myself," she threatened. "You can fly through as many wives as you want, pretty boy, but any time I mention his name your eyes sparkle with wonder, and, frankly, longing. No matter how much you deny it, we both know one of us is in love with Charley Kringas, and it sure as hell ain't me."
The nickname she tried to sneak in there made Frank's eyebrows furrow in a sudden embarrassment. He wasn't gay. He knew that for a fact. I mean, he's had two wives--hell, he still has one. And he is in love with her. He just needed a breath of fresh air. He didn't call her because he doesn't want to worry her. That's all.
But before he could object to Mary's statement, the telephone operator buzzed in with a one-minute warning. He dug around in his pocket for another quarter, but all he found was a crumpled up twenty-dollar bill. "Look, Mary, I need to go now, I'm out of quarters."
"Visit Charley," she finished, before hanging up herself.
Frank sighed, continuing his walk towards the building. He thought about Charley. The way his eyes lit up whenever he was writing, and the smile he showed when Frank played him a new piece of music. The scruff on his chin, and what it would be like to push him against a wall and kiss him until his lips were swollen and they were both gasping for air--no. He wasn't gay, he was just experimenting with his thoughts. And his face didn't get flushed; it was just a hot morning in the city. By the time he was finished arguing with himself, he had reached the apartment building.
It hadn't changed a bit; the walls were slightly rusted, but the windows sat in the same positions. Most importantly of all, the rooftop looked exactly the same from down below. Frank immediately ran to the entrance, crashing through the doors and sprinting up the stairs. He prepared to practically tackle the door once he was there, but the door was already open, held by a few bricks.
The figure on that bench was undoubtedly recognizable.
--<>--
When Charley and Frank were younger, the night they met Mary was "the best night of their lives." They would all use that phrase during the years following, just to reiterate how special the friendship would invariably be. To Frank, it still was the best night of his life. It happened when he was still young, stupid, and not corrupted by the bitter breeze of reality. The people he worked with told him life was about money and success, but none of them ever mentioned happiness with an honest look on their face.
The day Frank moved to LA, which is a day he went against the world's calling, he found a note taped to his piano, along with a bottle of wine. He had simply gone over to say goodbye, considering Gussie had refused Frank's pleas to bring it.
"It's old and worn out. I have a much more expensive grand piano just waiting to be shipped! Isn't that so exciting?"
Frank simply nodded, forcing a smile and telling himself he was happy. But later, when he read the note silently to himself, he knew that it wasn't the end of his time in the city.
Dear Franklin Shepard Inc.,
I know how badly you don't want to talk, but please just read this. I miss you, more than I would like to admit. Mary is following you to LA, which leaves me with Evelyn and the kids. I'm happy but not like I was. You seemed to be my gravity, holding me in place. Sucking me back in, as if you were also the earth. The world. Because, truthfully, you were my world. I miss sharing an apartment with you, getting up and being excited to just sit and write with my best friend. But, since your leaving, I just wanted to say goodbye. One day, I believe we may reunite somewhere special, like the rooftop.
If you ever need me, I'll be there waiting.
Love,
Sincerely,
Charley Kringas
P.S. I'm sorry for calling you Franklin Shepard Inc. earlier in this note, I just realized that you won't take that too lightly. Take care, old friend.
Frank must have stared at that note for hours, taking in every detail. Charley's handwriting was already memorized by him, but he must have engraved it into the core of his brain. Frank stuffed it in his pocket and walked away once he realized he had a flight to catch, leaving the full bottle sitting on the piano.
--<>--
When Charley turned around to see who had come up the stairs, he froze as well. For what could have been one-minute or thirty, they simply stared at each other. But Charley had always been braver than Frank, so, of course, he broke the silence.
"Hey, old friend."
He said it in a warm yet confused and bitter tone, startling Frank, who responded speechless with a quick, "Charley?"
"Aren't you a big Hollywood producer now? What are you doing in a small town like New York City?" Charley said, with the same dry sense of humor he had held onto since he learned what sarcasm was. He had always been so quick-witted, knowing exactly what to say in situations--maybe not on television, but he always has the words in his mind, ready to go without a single stutter.
"I didn't think I'd see you hear," replied Frank, avoiding the question.
"What I'm hearing is you never read my note."
Frank took a few frantic steps towards the smaller man, "Oh, no, no, no, I did! I did; I just didn't know your words were..."
"True?" Charley finished for him, proving Frank's point.
"Yeah."
Charley sighed and patted the spot on the bench next to him. Frank stepped over with caution, scared that one wrong move would make Charley disappear from Frank's grasp. He hadn't realized until this moment how much better life always is with Charley. They sat in silence, just listening to the bustling city noise and watching the sun rise for what could have been forever. They sat as if the sun would explode if one turned to look at the other, carefully sitting still, until Charley, once again, broke the silence.
"You didn't answer my question."
"What question?"
"Frank, you live on the other side of the country, what are you doing here?" he wondered aloud.
"I'm sorry, I just needed to clear my head. It's all so much, and I hate everyone in LA--except for Mary. I just got on a random flight, which happened to be directed here."
"What about Gussie?"
"What about Gussie?" Frank countered cleverly.
"You said you hate everyone except for Mary. What about Gussie?"
Frank suddenly felt a need to say what he had been repressing, "I don't love Gussie."
The moment Frank said it, he covered his mouth. He had never felt something for her from what he could remember, but saying it out loud? Charley seemed equally as appalled but kept his mouth shut for once. He had seemingly learned from his experience on television.
"How are things with Evelyn?" Frank asked, trying to break the thick tension that was rising.
"Good, we got divorced."
Frank's mouth fell slightly open in shock. The shock came with a weird sense of relief, like this was what he had waited for his whole life. "May I ask why?"
"Well, we realized we weren't in love anymore. Actually, we're still friends. She got custody of the kids, and I'm allowed to visit whenever I please. I moved back into our old apartment. Simply, I have my eyes on someone else."
Frank's heart sank back down below his chest once he heard his final statement, and he wasn't sure why. But he was a supportive man no matter what, so he continued asking questions. "...Who? If you'd tell me, of course."
Charley sighed, his breaths getting deeper. "Frank, I don't understand you. You walk out on me without giving me a chance to explain myself, and four years later, after not talking since, you just come back like nothing happened. Sure, I may have fucked up, but you can't just move on. All you do is get what you want, and it's beginning to piss me the fuck off!" He rose to his feet before continuing. "I have spent about half of my time since that day mourning you like you're deceased. Evelyn left me because she was tired waiting for me to realize something she had known for longer than I'd like to admit. And as I'm finally coming to terms with it, you just have to come back into my life like you're someone different. Well, Frank, I'd like to believe you are. Truly, I would. But I spent so long waiting for you to change..."
Frank had begun to block out his old friend's words. He didn't know what came over him when he met Gussie, but all he wanted were things back to the way it was. "Why can't it be like it was? " He would say to Mary. But Charley was right, Frank always got what he wanted, and as Frank had slowly started to realize, he wanted Charley, in so many ways all at once.
"...The truth is, I love you, Frank Shepard."
Frank's thoughts stopped when he heard the words leave the man's lips. He had to have been dreaming. Silently, he pinched his arm just to be sure.
"I've loved you since the best night of our lives," Charley continued, touching on old subjects. "As I sat there with you, my heart fluttered and I felt... speechless. I had never felt that way before in my life. I tried to convince myself I was straight, but unfortunately, I am gay for you Frank. Shit, that sounded weirder than it should have, but the point is-"
"Charley!" Frank yelled, making his friend's confession come to an end. "Charley, you're gay?" Frank turned his full body towards him as he spoke.
"So, it seems," he joked, chuckling lightly and facing the taller individual.
Frank's eyes flicked from Charley's eyes to his lips a million times. He intertwined their hands, a bold action that made Charley shiver with anticipation.
"Are you gonna just stare at me or are you going to respond?" Charley suddenly asked.
"Sorry, I just... I'm not good with words..." Frank paused for a moment, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Do you still own a piano?"
The question was sheepish, but Charley nodded and stood up when Frank did. Charley slowly connected the dots as he followed Frank through the doorway and down the stairs. Frank moved in a haste, as if he needed to be somewhere. By the time they had made it to Charley's door, he had a slight idea of what Frank was about to do for him. He unlocked the door and let Frank in first, nervously walking behind him.
Frank sat down at the piano bench. His fingers rested on the keys with a gentle familiarity he hadn't seen in years. He played a few chords, simply making sure he remembered how it worked, before jumping into an old song: Good Thing Going.
Charley's eyes widened as he felt the music encapsulate his emotions. Frank then spoke, "I know it's nothing original, but... this is what I'm... feeling." Frank cringed at his own words, but still kept playing. Soon, Charley's voice filled the room, coming out rather meek.
"It started out like a song... It started quiet and slow with no surprise," Frank turned his head to Charley, who had pulled a chair up near the piano. They locked eyes, and neither of them broke the contact until the song came to an end.
The silence that followed was unimaginable. Frank looked down at the keys, as if hoping they had helped him win Charley back, while Charley stared at the ground. He rose to his feet soon after, sitting on the edge of the piano bench. Frank moved a few inches over, so Charley had more room, and they both simultaneously turned to examine the other. Frank memorized his face, his eyes occasionally darting to his lips. Charley just stared helplessly into his eyes, as if looking into a window that led to his heart to check if he still had room for Charley in there. Franks mouth opened just slightly, about to ask for consent to kiss the man sitting in front of him, but Charley was one step ahead of him and nodded impatiently. Without wasting another second, Frank gently connected their lips, ridding the gap between them.
The hunger in both of the men's mannerisms was a show of 4 years wasted. Frank seemed to hide a thousand apologies in his mouth, and Charley gladly accepted them. Frank, as always, wanted more. He bit the shorter man's bottom lip, which received a small gasp in response, and took that as an excuse to slip his tongue inside of his mouth. Charley let out a noise that would sit next to his handwriting in Frank's mind. Their tongues collided in an endless array of affection, something indescribable even coming from someone like Charley. Frank placed his hands on Charley's hips, devouring the lips he had run away from. The thought annoyed him, knowing he could have had this much sooner.
As Charley brought his own hands up to Frank's hair, the latter realized one thing: He was gay. He had never felt like this for a woman, and he now knew that he didn't know what that feeling was until Charley came along.
He tugged on Franks hair, earning a few small whines from the seemingly 'dominant' one. Finally, when they were both completely out of breath, they parted, breathing heavily. The look on franks face could only be described as desperate, and Charley felt a shade of pink creep onto his cheeks.
Frank said the only thing he was able to say, "I'm so gay."
Charley let out a light laugh at that before adding something, "God, we're stupid. This could've been how we lived through our twenties."
Frank looked Charley up and down a few times before kissing him one final time. It felt so right, like he had just figured out how to float in water. Charley hummed against Frank's mouth as he let himself be devoured by the person he'd fawned over for years. When they finally let go of each other's lips, Charley buried his head in the other's chest. Frank wrapped his arms around him and held back tears. He had wanted to be back near Charley for so long, but now he felt like he had just figured himself out.
"You can stay with me. That is, if you have nowhere else to stay," Charley offered, adding the second sentence a bit more frantically to make himself seem more controlled.
"I would hope so," Frank answered rather selfishly, "we just made out. I didn't think we'd stop it there." Charley turned a shade of red that scientists were yet to discover, which cause Frank to stand up quickly and try to retract his statement, "Oh, no! Not like that. I just... enjoyed this?"
"I understand, Frank," Charley assured him. "I can show you to my room."
Frank laughed, catching the joke. They had shared a room for years and years, and he knew everything about this place. Or so he did.
As Charley led him to the room, holding Frank's hand, Frank admired everything about the man in front of him. He was utterly perfect, just as he always was. But that's when he realized something else. He scoffed loudly.
"What? What's wrong?!" Charley asked, turning to him with a worried expression plastered onto his face.
"Mary was right!"