Chapter Text
Gee couldn't wait for Frankie to come back from her gig. She was currently buried under a heavy blanket, and the tea had gone cold. The TV was illuminating her face with a particularly sad scene from Interview with the Vampire, which she had been binge-watching since the afternoon, and she'd get up to make herself another tea if she didn't feel so close to fainting. She hated being sick; that was more of a Frankie thing, she could get the flu twenty times per year.
But today, Frankie wasn't there to make her laugh and fix her chicken soup when she needed it the most.
She heard footsteps on the stairs and keys in the doorknob; she smiled and curled up deeper.
Frankie walked in, her guitar hanging from her shoulder in its case, her amplifier in one hand, and a huge smile on her face.
"Gee, you're not going to believe it."
Gee rolled her eyes and, after a fit of coughing, shook her head.
"No, not again, for God's sake, Frankie." She buried her face in her hands.
"Yes, yes, again, because this one's the real deal, Gee. I just know it. I know you don't believe me, but I don't need you to believe me," Frankie practically crooned.
"You are not going to find the love of your life in a filthy basement while screaming and jumping up and down, Frankie."
"I met you in a basement." Frankie pointed at her and shrugged. "Besides, I look really good while I'm on stage, you can't deny that."
"That basement was my bedroom, and you and Mikey only came down to snoop through my stuff, that doesn't count. Besides, I'm not your soulmate."
"Nope, but you are my favorite person’’ she said with finality before heading to the kitchen.
While Frankie put a thermometer in her mouth, she also brought her tea, antibiotics, and a witch's brew with an almost manic efficiency, she chattered about her night and how she had met the future mother of her children. Just like 8 months ago, last year, and the year before that. Frankie was always convinced her soulmate was at the very next gig.
"Wonderful, Frankie. I'll start working on my maid-of-honor speech," she said in the most bored tone possible. Frankie took the thermometer out, looked at it, and clicked her tongue.
"Who said you're going to be my maid of honor, huh? Drink that, you're burning up." Frankie sat on the floor next to the coffee table and pushed the brew closer, it tasted like shit and smelled like shit, but Gee was finally able to breathe,
"Ouch, I thought that would be my pay for putting up with you talking about the new loves of your life every three to five business days."
"Ha-ha, and that's why! You won't be! My maid of honor!"
Gee pretended to wipe away a tear.
"What's this one's name anyway?" she asked.
"Joy."
Gee looked at her. Frankie looked at her. Gee let out a giggle.
"Like the bitch from Inside Out?"
"Hey! Don't call her that!"
"I'm calling the one in the movie that!"
"Well, don’t!’’
Gee suppressed another laugh, mostly because it triggered a coughing fit.
"Okay. Joy."
"Yup, we're going out to see the new Evil Dead."
"We were going to see the new Evil Dead, Frankie, what the fuck?"
"I can see it again with you! I'm sorry, but she asked me first!"
"I asked you first!"
"You know what I mean."
Gee sighed, annoyed but too tired to keep going.
"Okay, whatever."
"Don't be mad, Gee. You're always going to be my number one." she playfully tapped her nose.
"Fuck off," she told her, and sneezed again.
Frankie laughed and scurried off to the bathroom to take a shower. Then Gee heard her tidying up her room. That woman was a hurricane after every gig, inexhaustible energy.
Gee found the whole thing about Frankie having found "the one" kind of annoying because it wasn't true. Frankie just fell in love too fast and too easily, ended up completely wrecked, and Gee picked up the pieces every damn time. Besides, she didn't understand why Frankie had this obsession with getting married and having babies. Gee was twenty-eight, four years older than Frankie, and had never felt that urgency. She had never been in a serious relationship either. She figured that sort of thing just wasn't for everyone, and that was it. No need to make such a big fuss about it.
But Frankie was passionate about three things: guitars, her band, and women. Well, guitars, her band, and love, more specifically, because she wasn't like a womanizer or something. That was more of a Gee thing: casual, fast, no attachments. And only on rare occasions.
Sometimes Frankie worried because Gee was "too much of a hermit."
Aside from their differences in personality and romantic lives, Frankie was the best roommate Gee had ever had. She was neat, paid everything on time, and never caused problems, except when the breakups happened at the apartment.
Gee knew there were worse roommates than a lovesick lesbian who wanted to find her soulmate, -something that didn't even exist- but Gee wasn't going to be the one to break it to her. No sir. Gee might be cold and somewhat aloof, but she wasn't that heartless of a bitch.
Frankie said goodnight and told her that if she needed anything else, she could wake her up.
Best roommate ever. Insufferable, but the best.
The fluorescent lights of the Belleville Mall flickered with a low buzz that Gee could feel deep behind her eyes. It was 11:00 AM, which meant the customers consisted entirely of three wandering senior citizens walking past the shuttered jewelers and a teenager aggressively ignoring his mother near the food court.
Across the concourse, the pull-down metal gate of Spin me Around Records was halfway up, and a muffled copy of a Misfits record was already vibrating through the floorboards.
Gee leaned against the counter of Panel & Pages, nursing a lukewarm black coffee that tasted faintly of cardboard. She was halfway through making the first sketches for the zines that she always passed around at gigs, when a shadow fell over her.
"Morning, baby" Frankie said. She was wearing her second-hand denim vest adorned with too many pinback buttons. Most of them were Gee’s, but she wasn’t in the mood to point it out.
"Good morning’’ Gee muttered without looking up from her pen. ‘’Still expecting your date or you have finally come to your senses?"
Frankie scoffed, walking straight behind the counter, violating an unwritten employee boundary that Gee had stopped enforcing roughly six months ago and stole a potato chip from the bag resting by the cash register.
"For your information, she told me she can’t wait to see me until the weekend, so we are going tonight" Frankie said, popping the chip into her mouth. "Total green flags, Gee. Absolute jackpot."
Gee finally paused her pen, looking over with skepticism.
"Right. Weren't you saying the exact same thing about the girl who worked at the bakery three weeks ago?’’
"That was a huge misunderstanding’’ Frankie waved a hand dismissively "And besides, this is different. Joy plays guitar. In a cover band, mostly weddings and proms"
"God help us all," Gee sighed, rubbing her temples. "If you two move in together, I'm subletting your room to a stranger. I'm not dealing with a revolving door of musicians crying in our hallway."
"You won’t! You love me," Frankie said easily, bumping her shoulder against Gee's with a familiar, easy warmth that always hit Gee's ribs just a little too sharply. "Admit it. Without me, you'd turn into a literal hermit crab and never leave this store."
"I survived just fine before you moved in, thank you very much"
"Yeah, by eating dry cereal and drawing monsters in total silence, that's hibernation." Frankie checked her watch, her restless energy already pulling her back toward the door. "Anyway, don't die of boredom over here. I'll bring you a slice of whatever horrible chemical pizza they're serving at the food court later."
Half an hour later, Gee was in one of her duties for every time Frankie developed a crush which of course was: stalking. It wasn’t hard at all to find this one, joy_full97.
Public profile. Of course it is. she thought to herself.
Gee let out a sharp, cynical scoff, Sure, the girl was objectively pretty in that pastel, sun-drenched, California-influencer way, all perfectly highlighted blonde waves, effortless smiles, and coordinated outfits. But it was entirely too…Barbie? It made Gee’s head ache. What the fuck a girl like that was doing in a basement show at Belleville? She should be at the club dancing to Bad Bunny or something. It’s not like she loved to put stereotypes on people but c’mon! Then she recalled how Frankie’s type changed faster than a New Jersey weather forecast; last year it was a brooding art major who wore all black, (something that Mikey had laughed about for the entirety of the four months relationship) and now it was miss fucking sunshine and daisies.
Gee dropped the phone onto the counter next to a stack of unpriced paperbacks and turned to the small, scratched mirror she kept propped up beside the register.
She frowned at her reflection. Her teal-blue roots were desperate for a bleach retouch, and her heavy smudged red eyeshadow was entirely too lopsided, dragged a little too low toward her temple.
And yet.
Even looking like a slightly disgruntled sleep-deprived vampire, the boys still tried. Two separate local college guys had already loitered at the counter before 2:00 PM, stumbling over their words while buying old Batman trades just to linger in her orbit. Normally, Gee didn’t even have to lift a finger to scare them off; a single, dead-eyed stare usually sent them running back to the food court. But if they lingered too long, Frankie usually materialized out of nowhere to loudly insert herself into the conversation with a barrage of territorial nonsense, pretending to be Gee's overprotective bodyguard just to mess with them.
Not today, it seemed.
Gee glanced up, shifting her gaze past the glass storefront straight at Frankie’s.
There she was, leaning against her own counter, completely lost in her phone, with a ridiculously dopey smile plastered across her face. She was probably texting Joy-whatever-the-fuck right now, completely oblivious to the world.
Gee felt a sharp pinch right behind her ribs, fast, and intensely annoying. She didn't like it. She didn't want to analyze it. It was just the lingering irritation of being sick, combined with the fact that her coffee was dead cold.
She picked up her pen, determined to go back to writing a poem for the zine, she needed to chill.
A few hours later, while she walked out from the CVS with cough syrup and aspirins, her eyes snagged on a glossy movie poster plastered against a glass, ''EVIL DEAD: BURN'' GET YOUR TICKETS FOR THE PREMIER TONIGHT! dripping in orange and brown font.
Gee stopped dead in her tracks.
That was supposed to be the tradition. Every blood-soaked sequel, every midnight premiere where they’d sneak in gas-station snacks, they went together. It was law.
And yet, Joy had successfully hijacked opening night.
Gee stared at the poster, her jaw tightening. Her lingering flu-induced exhaustion evaporated, replaced by a desire to start a fight.
The bell above the record shop door jingled violently as Gee shoved it open.
Frankie was behind the counter, leaning over a crate of 7-inches with a pair of headphones around her neck, looking entirely too peaceful. She looked up just as Gee slammed both palms down onto the wooden counter with a loud, authoritative thwack.
"We need to talk about your calendar management, Iero’’ Gee snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Frankie blinked, startled.
"You're getting sued for breach of franchise contract," Gee shot back, leaning in close, her eyes narrowed with righteous fury. "Evil Dead Burn. It premiers tonight."
Frankie let out a long, slow sigh, leaning back against the record bins and crossing her arms. "Oh, God. Not this again."
"Yes, this again!" Gee pointed an accusing finger across the counter. "You cannot just trade away sacred horror-franchise traditions for a girl you met not even a week ago!’’
"She likes horror, Gee! It’s a bonding opportunity!" Frankie protested, throwing her hands up in defense. "And you have been sick since Saturday, I didn't think you'd even be up for a theater trip by tomorrow!"
"I am fine," Gee lied through a sudden, suppressed sniffle that entirely undermined her tough girl stance. "I would have crawled out of a crypt for this movie, and you know it. You traded me out for a Barbie doll that likes some bloody stuff"
"Don't call her a Barbie doll, she's actually really cool, I know you already stalked her!" Frankie argued. "And besides, you act like I abandoned you forever. I said I'd see it again with you."
"It's not the same!" Gee hissed, crossing her arms and glaring daggers. "The premiere is the premiere, Frankie. It's about history, about principle!"
Frankie stared at her for a beat, a mix of sheer exhaustion and amusement dancing in her dark eyes. She let out a breath, shaking her head.
"You are unbelievable, you know that?" Frankie muttered, though a crooked smile fought its way onto her lips. "Coming all the way over here just to yell at me over that’’
"I am sick, bitter, and spoiling for a fight," Gee said flatly. "Cancel your date."
Frankie shook her head, a wide, disbelieving grin breaking across her face as she leaned over the counter.
"I am not telling my future children that their aunt almost ruined my first date with their mother!" Frankie shot back, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation.
Gee froze for a second, her brain unhelpfully clinging on the phrase their mother before she forcefully shoved it down into a very deep locked box. She let out a sharp, genuine laugh, partly because the sheer absurdity of Frankie planning a family with a girl she barely knew was completely unhinged, and partly because she refused to let Frankie win the banter.
"Oh, please," Gee scoffed, recovering instantly as she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "If anything, I'm saving those hypothetical kids from a lifetime of matching pastel outfits and acoustic cover band trauma. You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you? You came all the way over here to throw a tantrum like a rabid toddler!" Frankie laughed, pointing an accusing finger at her. "And for the record, Joy has a very nice singing voice."
"Yeah, I'm sure she sounds like a Disney princess backed by a ukulele," Gee muttered, "Whatever. Go on your stupid date. But if she makes you listen to country music in the car on the way back, don't come crying to me when your eardrums bleed."
"Hey, Gee" Frankie called out just as she reached the shop door.
Gee looked back over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
Frankie's grin softened just a fraction, the teasing energy dipping into something warmer. "We're still going to see the movie. Both of us. Non-negotiable."
Gee stared at her for a beat, letting out a soft, defeated sigh.
"Fine," Gee muttered, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Only if you pay for the extra cheese on my nachos"
The apartment was entirely too quiet when Gee got back.
Without Frankie rattling around the kitchen or blasting music through the shared walls or bickering with Gee about keeping the common area clean and tidy and without too much cigarrete smoke, the living room felt hollow. She kicked off her boots, curled back up on the thrift-store couch under her pile of dark blankets, and stared blankly at the TV screen.
A broken tradition. That’s what it really came down to.
It was the principle of the thing, sure, but mostly it was the crushing realization that Frankie was sliding into another blindingly fast obsession, leaving Gee behind in the dust like she always did.
Gee reached blindly for her phone on the coffee table, unlocking it with a scowl. She didn't want to sit here stewing in her own pathetic misery.
Without really thinking about it, her thumb tapped into her messages and hovered over a contact she hadn't texted in months.
gee: are you free tonight? frankie is out, and i'm feeling petty and annoyed.
It took less than two minutes for a reply to ping back.
sam: let me guess. u are sitting alone in the dark, binge-watching something morbid, and u are mad that she chose another girl over u. again.
Gee stared at the screen, her jaw tightening.
gee: i am not mad??? i am annoyed. there is a difference.
sam: sure babe. want to get a drink or do u just want me to point out that u are just texting me because frankie isn't paying enough attention to u?
Gee let out a sharp, frustrated breath through her nose, locking the phone screen with a hard click and tossing it face-down onto the cushions.
Even a girl she used to sleep with whom she’d ended things with in a blur a year ago, could see right through her.
Because Frankie isn't paying enough attention to you.
She pulled the blankets higher up over her shoulders, glaring at the empty doorway. She wasn't going to give Sam the satisfaction of replying, and she sure as hell wasn't going to admit that Sam was right.
The lock clicked, and the heavy front door swung open with a familiar creak.
Frankie tumbled into the hallway, trying desperately to silence her jangly keychain while balancing a half-eaten bag of theater popcorn in the crook of her elbow. She kicked the door shut behind her with her sneaker, looking like a total disaster in the best way, her hair slightly wild, her eyeliner smudged, and a dopey, wide-awake grin spread entirely across her face.
It was 2:00 AM on the dot.
Gee was still curled up on the couch under her blankets, the TV glowing with the muted credits of a movie she hadn't actually been watching. She had been pretending she was asleep, but the moment she heard Frankie’s boots hit the floorboards, her eyes snapped open.
"Well, look who decided to grace the Belleville slums with her presence," Gee muttered from the darkness of the living room, her voice raspy and flat as she pulled the blanket down just enough to glare over the top edge.
Frankie nearly dropped her popcorn bag, letting out a startled laugh as she stumbled into the living room and flicked on the dim floor lamp.
"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me," Frankie breathed, clutching a hand to her chest before dropping the bag onto the coffee table. She didn't look tired at all; she was practically vibrating with that post-date adrenaline. "What are you even doing awake at two in the morning?"
"Waiting to see if you needed me to call a rescue helicopter if things went south" Gee retorted, shifting onto her side and propping her head up on her hand. She narrowed her eyes, scanning Frankie's flushed face. "Well? Don't leave me in suspense’’
"It was amazing, actually," Frankie beamed, dropping unceremoniously onto the opposite end of the couch and kicking off her boots. She pulled her knees up to her chest, looking over at Gee with bright, sparkling eyes. "We talked for an hour in the parking lot after’’
Frankie yapped about how they had very similar tastes despite looking so different. And how funny and smart and well-read she was.
Gee felt that familiar, petty twitch in her chest, but looking at Frankie, glowing and back home where she belonged, the sharp edge of her earlier sadness melted into something softer and entirely more annoying to deal with.
"Well, good for you Romeo" Gee mumbled and sank back down into her pillows. "Now turn off the damn lamp, some of us actually have to go to work tomorrow and listen to teenagers buy comic books."
Frankie did, plunging them back into the comforting blue glow of the television.
"Night Gee, love you" Frankie whispered and went to her room.
Gee didn't answer, pulling her blanket back up over her shoulders, but she didn't have to. Frankie was home. The tradition was technically broken, but the universe, for tonight at least, was back in order.
The next morning, Gee was already sitting at the small kitchen island, nursing a cup of black coffee that finally tasted like actual coffee instead of cardboard, when Frankie shuffled out of her bedroom.
She was particularly fond of how Frankie looked like in the morning, sweatpants hanging low on her hips, an oversized band tee, and her hair sticking up in three different directions. She dragged her feet toward the coffee maker like a zombie scenting fresh meat, letting out a low groan.
"If you speak above a whisper, I am legally allowed to murder you," Frankie rasped, leaning her forehead directly against the kitchen cabinet for support.
Gee didn't even look up from her mug, taking a slow, deliberate sip before setting it down with a sharp clack.
"Too bad, wake up," Gee said, her voice dry and unapologetic. She pushed her phone across the counter toward Frankie. "8 PM tonight’’
Frankie cracked one sleepy eye open, squinting suspiciously at the screen before looking back up at Gee. "What?"
"You heard me," Gee said, leaning back against the kitchen counter with an expression of unbothered arrogance. She crossed her arms. "8 PM. The Evil Dead Burn screening. You're taking me."
"Are you insane?" Frankie dropped her mug onto the counter with a loud clatter, throwing her hands up in utter disbelief. "I literally just went to that not even fifteen hours ago!"
"Yes, and you ruined our sacred franchise tradition," Gee pointed out "Which means cosmic balance must be restored, besides, you told me yourself: you can always see it again. Those were your exact words, Frankie, so’’
‘’Are you asking me out on a date, Gee?" Frankie smirked, too annoying for seven am.
Gee’s stomach did a sudden, traitorous flip, but her poker face remained an absolute fortress. She rolled her eyes so hard it physically hurt.
"In your wildest, most delusional dreams" Gee deadpanned, standing up from her stool and grabbing her mug.
Frankie stared at her and let out a long, dramatic groan, letting her head drop back to stare helplessly at the ceiling.
"You are the most exhausting, manipulative girl on the face of the planet," Frankie muttere but a fond smile was already pulling at the corner of her lips.
"I take that as a massive compliment," Gee said, blowing a kiss at her.
The ticket line at the movie teather was predictably sticky, smelling faintly of stale popcorn butter and industrial floor cleaner.
Frankie shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her L7 hoodie, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she glared at the marquee.
"I still maintain that making me watch a horror movie twice in less than forty eight hours is a symptom of your ego maniac issues" Frankie muttered, though she was the one who had bought the extra-large bag of peanut M&Ms at the concession stand.
Gee stood right beside her, arms crossed tightly over her FINAL GIRLS GET THE JOB DONE t-shirt.
"It's called honoring a binding legal contract, Frankie," Gee shrugged, stepping forward as the line moved. "This is just community service, baby"
"Community service," Frankie repeated. "Right. And I suppose you're the judge, jury, and executioner?"
"Naturally." Gee flashed a quick side eyed, the corners of her mouth twitching despite her best efforts to maintain her scowl.
They handed their tickets to the apathetic teenager at the door and ducked into the dark, cool cave of the theater just as the pre-show trailers started rolling. Frankie immediately tried to claim the aisle seat but Gee caught her by the sleeve of her jacket and shoved her firmly toward the middle.
"Oh, no you don't. You don't get aisle privileges after abandoning your post," Gee whispered sharply, sliding in right beside her and pulling her knees up.
"You are a tyrant!" Frankie hissed back, though she didn't move away. In fact, as the lights finally blinked out and the screen flared to life with the opening studio logos, Frankie settled right into the worn velvet chair, her shoulder pressing flush against Gee's in the tight armrest space.
Ten minutes in, Frankie instinctively threw an arm out, grabbing hard onto Gee’s forearm and resting her head on her shoulder.
Gee didn't flinch. She just glanced down at Frankie’s fingers gripping her sleeve, a happy warmth blooming right under her skin that had nothing to do with the movie.
Gee didn't pull her arm away. She just leaned in a fraction closer, letting the screen wash them both in red.
Later, their bathroom was warm, smelling faintly of chemicals from the drugstore hair dye Gee had shoved into the bottom cabinet.
Gee sat in a plastic stool in front of the mirror, a plastic grocery bag tied around her shoulders like a makeshift cape. Frankie stood behind her, a pair of tinting gloves stretched tight over her hands, carefully slathering the blue mixture onto Gee’s roots with quick, practiced strokes.
‘’I just think that the third act completely drops the pacing!" Gee argued, as she stared down at the chipped white tiles. ‘’It's lazy writing."
"It's not lazy, it's classic," Frankie countered, her movements were rhythmic and gentle as she massaged the dye into Gee's scalp. "You just hate anything that doesn't end with everyone dying in a basement."
"Everyone dying in a basement is superior and you know it."
Right on cue a Bzz-bzz cut through another ritual of theirs, the one where Gee just pouted ‘’Frankie help me dye my hair please! Please, please?’’ even if she was capable of doing it alone.
Frankie paused, her gloved hand hovering an inch above Gee's head. She shifted her weight, sliding one hand into the pocket of her pajama hoodie to fish out her phone with two fingers. She glanced down at the illuminated screen, a quick, automatic smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, before she swiftly tapped out a reply with her thumb.
Gee went completely still under the plastic cape.
Bzz-bzz.
That made five times in the last twenty minutes.
It was like it had always been the two of them crammed into the cramped, peeling-wallpaper bathroom late at night, arguing about horror tropes and trash talking local bands just like they had since basically forever.
Frankie slipped the phone back away, clearing her throat lightly as she went back to smoothing blue paste over Gee's crown. "Anyway. As I was saying about the pacing…"
"You can answer it, you know," Gee interrupted, her voice entirely flat, devoid of the playful bite she usually reserved for Frankie's dating life.
Frankie stopped again, blinking down at the back of Gee's head through the mirror. "What?"
"Your phone. It's been buzzing every five minutes since we walked through the front door," Gee said, keeping her gaze locked on her own reflection in the foggy glass. She swallowed the tight, uncomfortable knot forming in her throat and forced her shoulders to drop. "Go ahead. Wouldn't want you to leave Joy-from-Inside-Out hanging on her second-day review of the cinematic arts."
Frankie let out a soft, awkward laugh, dropping her hands to her sides. "Gee, come on. It's just... we were talking about what we are going to do on the weekend’’
"At two in the morning?" Gee raised an eyebrow, finally turning her head just enough to meet Frankie's eyes in the mirror. "Right. Sure you are."
Frankie bit her lower lip, a faint flush creeping up her neck past the collar of her shirt. She didn't deny it, which somehow made the strange ache in Gee's chest press down even harder.
"You are almost done anyway," Gee muttered, looking back down at her lap and breaking the eye contact. "I just wash it off and go to sleep’’
Frankie laugh it off, tossing her phone onto the bathroom counter with a soft clack.
"You don't sleep," Frankie joked, her voice easing back into that light, familiar teasing tone as she picked up the tint brush again and went back to work on the sides of Gee's head. "I'm convinced you're actually some kind of nocturnal cryptid powered entirely by caffeine and spite."
And honestly, it was kind of true.
Gee didn't argue the point. Between spending her days managing the comic shop, her nights hunched over a light-table sketching commission pages, and her late-night habit of binge-watching moody vampire dramas until the sun started creeping through the blinds, a full eight hours of rest was practically a myth to her. She lived in a perpetual, comfortable haze of exhaustion, anchored only by the steady cadence of Frankie's midnight kitchen raids and morning coffee runs.
Frankie let out a soft snort, gently tapping the back of the brush against Gee's shoulder.
"Relax, cranky pants. It's on silent now," Frankie promised, though her eyes flicked toward the counter one more time before she focused back on the dye. "See? Crisis averted. You have my undivided attention."
Gee stared at her own reflection, watching the way Frankie's brow furrowed in careful concentration as she smoothed the last streaks of blue onto her hair. The irritation in her chest didn't completely vanish, but it softened, settling into a quiet, stubborn warmth she couldn't quite shake.
"Good," Gee murmured, closing her eyes as the cool chemical scent of the dye washed over her ‘’Thanks’’
Frankie tossed the tint brush into the empty plastic bowl with a light clatter and ripped the latex gloves off her hands, balling them up in her fist. She leaned her hips back against the edge of the sink, crossing her arms as she looked down at the top of Gee's freshly dyed head.
For a second, the apartment was completely quiet, save for the hum of the bathroom fan.
"So," Frankie started, her tone shifting from casual teasing to something just a little too deliberate. She tossed her head back slightly with a casual shrug. "Speaking of things keeping people up at night... are you seeing anyone?"
Gee froze, her hands gripping the edge of the sink.
She hadn't expected that. Frankie usually spent all her energy orbiting around her own revolving door of crushes, rarely pausing long enough to look sideways at Gee's completely barren romantic history.
Gee slowly lifted her head, meeting Frankie's gaze in the mirror. Her expression instantly hardened into a mask of bored skepticism.
"Please," Gee scoffed, letting out a dry, humorless laugh as she turned around on the edge of the tub to face her. "You know my social circle consists entirely of greasy teenagers buying Batman trades and Sam texting me insults at two in the morning. Who exactly am I supposed to be seeing between the comic shop and my light-table?"
Frankie didn't immediately look away. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, studying Gee's face with a strange intensity that made her stomach do an uncomfortable flip.
"I don't know," Frankie said slowly "Maybe one of the guys who loiters by your register trying to impress you with their comic knowledge. Or an ex, you and Sam still talk sometimes, right?"
"Sam isn’t even an ex’’ Gee snapped, her voice more sharp than she intended. She stood up abruptly, pulling the plastic grocery bag off her shoulders and tossing it into the trash can. "And local guys are pathetic. I'd rather staple my own eyelids to my forehead."
Frankie watched her step past her toward the doorway, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Alright, alright, touchy," Frankie murmured "I was just asking. God forbid I show a little interest in my favorite person’s non-existent love life."
"Yup" Gee said back over her shoulder, heading down the hallway toward the living room "Go text her or whatever before she thinks you've abandoned her for more than ten minutes."
The next morning, Gee was trying to salvage a piece of toast that was borderline charcoal, when Frankie shuffled in from the hallway.
Frankie was scrolling through her phone, a thoughtful frown tugging at her mouth, before she looked up and leaned against the opposite side of the table.
"Hey," Frankie started, her tone a little more cautious than usual. "So... Joy and I were talking."
Gee didn't look up from her burnt toast, though her grip on the butter knife tightened just a fraction. "Let me guess, she wants to take you on a romantic weekend getaway to a botanical garden where you'll play with her hair and listen to acoustic covers of Taylor Swift."
"No," Frankie chuckled, though it was a little hesitant. "Well, kind of, but that's not what I'm bringing up. She wants to meet you."
Gee froze.
The kitchen went dead quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator. Gee slowly set the butter knife down, turned her head, and stared at Frankie like she had just suggested they rob a bank with water guns.
"Meet me," Gee repeated, her voice dropping flat.
"Yeah!" Frankie said, perking up, completely misreading the absolute panic spiking through Gee's veins. "She knows you're my best friend, she thinks it's sweet how close we are, and she wants to grab dinner or coffee or something this weekend. Isn't that great?"
No, Gee's brain screamed. It is a catastrophe.
Gee turned around completely, crossing her arms defensively over her chest as she glared at Frankie.
"Are you out of your absolute mind?" Gee hissed, panic wrapping cold fingers around her throat. "Every single girlfriend you have ever had, without exception, has despised me with a capital D. They look at me like I'm a demonic entity living in your closet. Remember Jess? Remember Chloe? Chloe literally tried to sage my bedroom door while I was sleeping!"
"That was an extreme case…"
"Chloe told you I had a negative aura because I wouldn't let her rearrange our living room furniture!" Gee cut her off, her voice pitching up in righteous indignation. "And now you want to introduce Joy to me? So soon?’’
Frankie let out a soft, amused sigh, walking around the counter and closing the distance between them. She stopped just a foot away, looking down at Gee with an infuriatingly fond expression.
"Gee, relax. She's sweet. She's not going to sage your bedroom. And even if she did" Frankie grinned, nudging Gee's shoulder with her own "you'd probably just curse her out in ancient Latin and scare her away."
"I am not going to curse her out," Gee muttered, though her shoulders tensed even further as Frankie stepped into her space. "I am going to sit there, drink coffee, and stare at her until she cries. It's a lose-lose situation for everyone involved, Frankie."
"Please?" Frankie coaxed, her dark eyes locking onto Gee's with the puppy eyes persistence that Gee had never, since she met her, been able to successfully say no to. "Just one dinner.’’
Gee stared back at her, internally screaming as the familiar trap closed around her. She wanted to say no. She wanted to lock herself in her room and hide under her blankets. But looking at Frankie, genuinely wanting her two favorite worlds to collide, completely blind to why the thought of it made Gee's stomach twist into painful knots, she let out a defeated exhale.
"If she starts talking about her zodiac sign," Gee warned, pointing a sharp finger right at Frankie's chest, "I am walking out of the restaurant and leaving you to pay the bill."
Frankie laughed, a bright, triumphant sound, and reached out to give Gee's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
"Deal," Frankie beamed. "Saturday night."
Saturday night arrived with the crushing inevitability of a dental appointment.
Gee stood in front of her bedroom mirror, glaring at her reflection with hostility. She was wearing her battered leather jacket over a burgundy knee length dress and her worn out combat boots, the red eye shadow smudged to perfection. She looked like she belonged in a dimly lit basement listening to people singing about hating their lives, which meant she was going to look entirely out of place sitting across from Joy in a trendy bistro downtown.
From the hallway, she heard Frankie rushing around, dropping keys, muttering curses under her breath.
"Gee! Are you ready? We have to leave in ten minutes" Frankie called out, throwing Gee's bedroom door open without knocking, as usual.
Frankie was looking entirely too radiant and painfully enthusiastic about this double-booked evening. But her eyes swept over Gee, and for a split second the frantic date-night energy vanished from her face.
"What?" Gee snapped defensively.
Frankie blinked.
"You look... incredible. As always."
Gee felt a traitorous heat prickle at the back of her neck. She looked away, scoffing to mask the way her pulse suddenly spiked.
"Save the charm for your lady" Gee muttered, brushing past Frankie toward the living room. "Let's just get this over with before I change my mind and lock myself in the bathroom."
Fifteen or twenty minutes later, they were outside a dangerously aesthetic little bistro with Edison bulbs strung across the patio. Joy was already waiting at a corner table near the window, looking like she had stepped straight off a Pinterest board in a cream-colored cardigan and a sunshine-bright smile.
As they walked through the front doors, Gee felt every muscle in her body lock, she sat down, slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head, and fixed Joy with a stare that could curdle milk.
"Hi! You must be Gee," Joy said brightly, extending a manicured hand across the table with an expression of pure, unblemished warmth. "Frankie talks about you all the time."
Gee looked down at the extended hand, then slowly up at Joy's relentlessly cheerful face.
Capital D, Gee reminded herself. Prepare for combat.
Joy blinked, her hand hovering in the air for a fraction of a second too long before she smoothly retracted it, offering an unbothered smile that made Gee’s stomach twist with a spike of guilt.
"Well," Joy continued, unfazed, picking up her water glass. "It's really so nice to finally put a face to the name. Frankie told me you guys have been roommates for ages."
"Too long," Gee said, leaning back against the wooden chair "She still leaves her guitar picks everywhere and her used up band-aids in the pasta’’
"Okay, first of all, that happened once, totally by accident!" Frankie protested, a defensive flush creeping up her neck as she glared at Gee. "And second of all, you eat cereal out of my mixing bowls, so let's not throw stones in glass houses."
"Mixing bowls were made for cereal consumption, and you know it," Gee shot back, narrowing her eyes. They kept going at it about domestic stuff for about five minutes.
Joy let out a bright, musical laugh, leaning forward resting her chin on her hands as she watched the two of them bicker with an amusement that was entirely too genuine.
"You guys really act like an old married couple, you know that?" Joy said, her tone light and teasing.
Gee forced a stiff, humorless smile.
"Trust me," Gee said "If we were married, one of us would currently be serving a life sentence for justifiable homicide."
"Honestly, Frankie warned me you'd be a little prickly. I respect it. My older sister is exactly the same way." Joy said with delight? Was that delight?
Gee stared at Joy, completely disarmed. She had expected defensiveness, or at the very least a passive-aggressive remarks. Instead, Joy just... took it in stride, ordering a round of appetizers with the easy, unflappable grace of someone who couldn't be rattled by a direct hit from a tactical missile. And she was actually gorgeous, like movie star gorgeous.
It was deeply, profoundly annoying.
As the waiter dropped off the menus and the conversation drifted into local gig stories and opinions on the worst movies of the year, Gee found herself trapped in a strange kind of purgatory. Joy was smart, she actually knew her horror trivia, and worst of all, she looked at Frankie with a soft, genuine adoration that made Gee want to swallow a handful of glass.
Throughout dinner, every time Frankie laughed at something Joy said, that bright, crinkly-eyed laugh that Gee usually had a front-row seat to, she felt a heavy, cold anchor drop lower and lower into her stomach.
She kept her answers short, nursed her cup of wine like it was poison, and spent the rest of the meal counting the ceiling tiles, praying for the check to arrive so she could crawl back under her blankets and pretend none of this was happening.
‘’I’m going to the bathroom’’ she got up without waiting for an answer.
The heavy wooden door of the bistro's restroom clicked shut, cutting off the low murmur of conversation and the faint clinking of silverware from the dining room. The air smelled faintly of expensive hand soap and jasmine, clean and bright under the harsh vanity lights.
Gee walked straight up to the sink, braced her hands hard against the marble countertop, and stared down at her own reflection.
Her chest was heaving with a restless, trapped panic that she couldn't shake. She hated this. She hated feeling like a cornered animal just because Frankie looked happy with someone else. She hated the pathetic, sinking weight in her stomach every time Frankie laughed at one of Joy’s jokes.
She leaned closer to the glass, narrowing her eyes at herself, and gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white.
"Get your shit together!" Gee hissed under her breath, her voice tight and vicious in the small space. "Behave! You are a grown up! Just be... Frankie's best friend! That's it! What's wrong with you?"
A gasp echoed from the corner of the room.
Gee’s head snapped up. In the mirror, she caught sight of a girl standing frozen by the paper towel dispenser, clutching a tube of lip gloss like it was a weapon, eyes wide with sheer terror as she stared at Gee through the gap in the stall doors.
Gee didn't flinch. She just stared back at the terrified stranger for three agonizing seconds, her expression deadpan and murderous.
"What?" Gee barked, her voice flat. "Never seen someone give themselves a pep talk before?"
The poor girl squeaked out a terrified, breathy "No," dropped her lip gloss into her bag, and practically threw herself out the bathroom door, letting it swing wildly behind her.
The room fell dead silent again.
Gee closed her eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath through her nose.
She took a deep, steadying breath, forced her shoulders down, and checked her reflection one last time.
The panic was still humming under her skin, sharp and electric, but she shoved it down deep where it belonged. She couldn't afford to look unhinged. She was Frankie's best friend, the cool, calm and collected.
She pushed open the bathroom door and walked back out into the dining room.
As she approached the table, she saw Frankie and Joy leaning close together over their shared dessert menu, murmuring something and laughing softly. For a split second, that cold, heavy knot twisted in Gee's chest again, but she clamped down on it hard, squaring her shoulders as she slid back into her chair.
"Did you guys decide on a wedding venue yet, or are we still pretending this is a casual dinner?" Gee asked, her voice dry, steady, and entirely back to normal as she picked up her water glass.
"We were actually just debating whether to order the chocolate torte or the key lime pie," Frankie said smoothly, resting her chin on her hand.
"Order whatever you want, as long as it comes with the check," Gee glared at them, though her voice had finally softened into something manageable.
Joy laughed, genuinely, sliding the menu across the table toward Gee.
"Well, put your professional glaring skills to good use and help us decide," Joy offered, entirely warm and completely unbothered. "Frankie says you have very strong opinions about local bakeries."
Gee stared at her for a beat, a microscopic twitch of amusement hitting the corner of her own mouth. She picked up the menu, flipping it open.
The front door clicked shut, before Frankie or Joy could even kick off their shoes in the entryway, Gee bolted. She muttered something vague and clipped about an impending migraine, ducked past them down the narrow hallway, and slammed her bedroom door shut behind her with a definitive, muffled click.
She didn't bother turning on the lamp. Instead, she dropped straight onto the edge of her mattress, her leather jacket still on, dragging her knees up to her chest as she stared sightlessly into the dark shadows of her room.
From the living room, the low murmur of voices drifted through the walls, followed by the soft rustle of the couch. Then, the ambient noise shifted. Footsteps padded softly across the hardwood floor, stopping just outside Frankie's bedroom door down the hall.
And then came the sound.
A quiet, breathless laugh. A low, murmured phrase from Frankie that sounded entirely too sweet, too soft, and entirely reserved for someone who knew how to handle social interactions without wanting to throw herself in front of a moving train.
Followed by the unmistakable sound of them kissing.
A sharp, violent wave of nausea hit Gee right in the pit of her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands hard against her temples. Maybe it's the flu again, a desperate, pathetic part of her brain whispered, trying to bargain with the physical ache tearing through her chest. Maybe the summer bug came back.
She swallowed hard, her throat burning, forcing herself to open her eyes and glare into the dark. No. You're just being an asshole.
She didn't do jealous. Jealousy was for insecure teenagers, for people who didn't know how to keep their emotions locked down. She was just being a miserable, possessive jerk, and she hated herself for it.
Down the hall, the bedroom door clicked shut, muffling the voices, but not quite enough.
A few quiet moments passed, the tension thick enough to suffocate on, and then the muffled sound of moaning drifted through the shared walls.
Gee felt the blood drain entirely from her face. A suffocating spike of pure agony lanced straight through her chest, so sharp and consuming that she genuinely wanted to drop dead right then and there.
Not even being dramatic.
Gee shoved her face deeper into a pillow, pulling a heavy, dark throw blanket up over her head as if suffocating herself could block out the noise vibrating through the thin drywall.
It was pathetic. It was humiliating. Every single rule she had set for herself, be a good best friend, act like a grown-up, keep your distance, was currently burning into ash while she sat alone in the dark like a kicked dog.
She stared blindly into the fabric of the pillow, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached. She wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She wanted to smash something, or vanish into thin air, or crawl back to her light-table and draw until her hands went numb.
Instead, she just lay there, waiting for the house to finally go quiet again.
The most infuriating part of it all was that all of that wasn't a virgin experience. Frankie had brought people home before. Gee had heard muffled laughs and shuffling feet through these exact same walls a dozen times over the last four years. She usually just put her headphones on, cranked some metal until her ears rang, and went back to sketching like a functioning human being.
So why the hell did it feel like someone was taking a wire brush to her internal organs right now?
Gee rolled onto her back, staring blindly up at the dark, popcorn-textured ceiling as a bitter, frustrated breath hitched in her throat. She didn't know. She genuinely, desperately did not know why this particular girl, this particular night, felt like a slow-motion car crash she couldn't look away from.
She scrubbed a hand down her face, pressing the heels of her palms hard against her closed eyes until little bursts of static danced behind her eyelids.
Get a grip, she told herself for the hundredth time, it’s just Frankie. She dates people, she moves on, she brings them home. It’s what she’s always done.
Nothing had actually changed. The apartment was the same, the creaky floors were the same, and Frankie was still the same.
But her chest feel like it was caving in and every second she lay there listening to the low, muffled murmurs down the hall feeling like a physical punishment she couldn't escape.
Maybe, no, not a maybe, she was definitely due for her biannual psychiatric appointment. And everything will be just fine and cool and delightful again.
She reached for her headphones and played one of the many shared playlists she had with Frankie. It’s Only Sex by Car Seat Headrest plays on shuffle. If there’s a God, she’s very sadistic.