Work Text:
It’s dark, the only light source being the candles spaced out accordingly in your living room. Winter’s making its rounds, there’s enough food in your fridge and pantry to feed you for a week since you feel the snow’s gonna shut you in any day now.
Snow.
You zone back in and look back down at your book, eyes glueing to the page in your usual attempt to distract yourself from what’s trying to bubble up. Five years have passed and there are still nights like these, where it feels like the snap was just yesterday.
Outside in the snow.
During this season is when you’ve found yourself missing him the most. Since you’d always be able to talk him into a cup of hot chocolate and a dumb Christmas movie, both of you guys snuggled against this very couch and soaking up each other’s warmth.
Outside in the snow and laughing.
Maybe this was his favorite season too. But you’ll never get to find out, apparently, with him gone without a sound past his confused heavy breaths. You could tell he was somewhat afraid, him of all people, and it destroyed you.
You huff in annoyance, snapping your book shut and lifting yourself up off the furniture with the plan to move to your bed and try to get some sleep. It’s a skill to constantly push your lover out the forefront of your mind, but you make it happen. It’s not happening tonight, you’re too tired to deal with it.
But something happens.
From the depths of your bedroom, you hear this faint and indescribable ringing sound before a thud. Your heart stops, but you’re quick to wave it off when you don’t hear anything else within the next few seconds. Something must’ve dropped.
So you start your walk to the bedroom to check out what fell down, passing through the doorframe and tilting your head to face the light switch before flicking it up. Warm and artificial illumination coats the room, and you turn around with tired eyes.
You falter completely at what you see, breath stilling in disbelief for a moment before you take in a fast inhale through your open mouth.
Frank.
Brown hair, white tee, grey sweats. The same thing he wore the night you lost him.
All the more reason to think this is a dream.
“No.” is all you can muster, wide eyed shaking your head fervently like the movement alone is going to make him disappear. “No, you’re not… no.”
His brows furrow, he looks confused. “What’s goin’ on, what happened?”
You ignore him for a moment as your breaths become labored, whispering to yourself and pulling up a sleeve to pinch your arm. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real, he’s not here-“
“Honey, what the hell are y’talking about?”
“Five years. Five years, Y/N, five years,” you try and convince yourself, petrified when you look up and still see your boyfriend standing there and staring at you like you have two heads.
Maybe this is real.
“Hey, weren’t y’wearing somethin’ else-“
“Not dreaming, not dreaming, am I on drugs? No, I’m not on drugs, I’m not doing any drugs. What the fuck, how is this happening…”
“Listen, if you don’t stop talkin’ over me-“
“Frank.” you test, skepticism starting to fade when you see him meet your eyes again and hear him respond to his name. “Y/N, what’re you doin’?”
“You’re alive.” The first time you say these words, they’re thick with mistrust. And he’s completely oblivious; if you weren’t in shock, you’d laugh at the bewildered delivery of his one word response. “What?”
Tears cloud your eyes, and you repeat yourself with something more hopeful. “You’re alive.”
“Of course I am, kid, what are you-“
“Oh, god,” you breathe, a hand lifting to rub disbelievingly at your temple before dropping back down to your side as you take no more than three strides across the room to close up most of the gap. Your hands are shaking when they come up to cup his face, your eyes startled and relieved when you feel skin under your touch. Real skin.
He can hardly process the fact that you’re even crying before you pull him in and hug him. Frank’s stunned at the feel of your arms around him, your grip so much tighter than he’s ever felt it. And his heart drops when he hears you sob into his shoulder, looking down at you with a concerned gaze as you continue to sputter. “You’re alive, you’re alive-“
“Sweetheart, what- why’re you crying?”
He can hardly hear you through the tears. “I’ve missed you so bad…it’s been so long…”
“What are you talking a- it’s been five seconds!”
“Try five years, asshole,” Frank hears you mutter into his shoulder, and that retort is what really shakes him up. It’s only now that he realizes your voice is a bit deeper, just like the faint smile lines he saw etched into your face. The bedroom looks different, rearranged.
You definitely couldn’t have done all that in five seconds.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck…” he mumbles to himself, large hands finally coming up to hug you back as that last wave of surprise is over with. He feels you cry more when he does, body just barely shaking and pressing harder into his.
“Frank, it’s been- don’t you remember when you started falling apart?”
“Yeah, but it… I feel like that happened just now.”
“That happened five years ago.”
The statement hits him like the strongest train. Like a million bricks to his chest.
Five years.
While your words loop in his head, he holds you close as you cry like you never have before. Such an entangled mix of happiness and sadness sewn into your mind, but the latter begins to fade with every second back in his arms.
”You’re okay,” he murmurs reassuringly into your hair, “You’re okay, honey, you’re okay…”
Things will be okay. Things are gonna get figured out.
He’s here with you, it’s all you could ever need after so much time without him.