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Summary
“what a shitshow,” he mutters as they look down at the city life beneath them, the streetlights and honks from cars and trees in the park across the street. “what a complete shitshow my life is right now, mel.”
“come on,” she says, poking him in the shoulder even as he runs a hand over his face. “it can’t be all bad.”
he glances over, stares at her with eyes that are red-rimmed and tired but still so, so blue. she looks out at the city again, at the lit-up skyscrapers across the river. she’s somehow getting worse at keeping eye contact with him as the weeks tick by - again, he’s her own personal sun, in more ways than one.
“no,” he whispers. “it’s not all bad.”
(or, mel and frank, and the multitude of ways to say i love you.)
written as prompt fills for a tumblr ask game over the past month.