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"Wait, what?" Jan spluttered. "You want me to go kiss up to Franky and make him feel better cause I'm gay?"
Linke winced and David looked like he'd bit his tongue.
"Maybe," T:mo said, looking to his taller band mates for support.
None of them could meet his eye.
"I mean, we, uh, we don't, y'know, do that kind of thing," T:mo tried, crashing and burning spectacularly from the scathing look Jan was giving him.
"You don't do what kind of thing?" Jan snarled acidly.
"Y'know, hug other guys…touch them…snuggle-" T:mo said, wincing like a kicked puppy.
"Oh really? You don't, T:mo? Cause some people might say you and David are taking it up the ass from each other."
David growled.
"You don't have to be a bitch about it, Jan. If you want Franky to mope about and sulk for the next week, fine. We're simply asking for a favor."
"You guys suck," Jan grumbled but he got up anyway and stomped up the stairs to Franky's room.
ØØØ
"Franky!" Jan yelled as he pushed the singer's door open.
"Hey, Franky- shit," Jan said, faltering.
Franky sat on the floor next to his open closet, a stack of destroyed photos and pieces of lined paper strewn about him. His pretty blue eyes were bloodshot and dull, his hands resting on his upraised knees in defeat.
"Shit, man," Jan repeated as he picked his way through the haphazard clutter on the floor.
He settled down next to Franky and mirrored the singer's posture, turning his blonde head to look up at his friend.
"Was it really that bad?" Jan asked not unkindly.
Franky sniffed but didn't answer.
"I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it."
Franky shook his head, his lips pressed together tightly to hold back the tears.
Jan had seen him this way before. He had seen Franky worse, actually, after Leo said goodbye for the last time. Franky always took breakups hard, even though he kept most of his relationships secret from everyone but whichever girl he was dating and himself. When things fell through, Franky fell apart.
"C'mere," Jan said, pulling Franky towards him.
Franky half-smiled and laid his head on Jan's shoulder, letting the little blonde stroke his hair.
"It's okay, Franky," Jan whispered, wrapping his other arm around Franky's waist and shifting closer to the bereaved singer.
"Who was she?" he asked softly, continuing to pet Franky's hair.
"Juri's cousin," Franky mumbled.
Jan tried not to snicker.
"I hope she doesn't look like him."
"No, she doesn't. Not really. She kind of looks like you, truthfully; short and blonde," Franky said, "Nice rack, though."
"Huh," Jan said, scooting closer to Franky, "Tell me about her."
"We got together a couple months ago and we'd been calling and texting back and forth. She'd come up every other weekend and we'd see each other then. I thought it was going great."
"What went wrong?" Jan asked.
Franky bit his lip, his eyes trained on Jan's neck in thought.
"I have no idea. We were fine one day and then the next she calls me and says I'm not worth it and that I'm an arse and a faggot who doesn't know how to treat girls right and that I was using her and I never got her anything nice and I never took her to expensive enough restaurants and that we didn't see each other enough. And, the thing is, I was really nice to her and I sent her cards and candy, and texts all the time but I guess we weren't right and she needed more than what I could give her."
"She doesn't sound very nice."
"She's not," Juri said.
Franky and Jan looked up at the same time. Juri stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.
Jan glanced at Franky, trying to gauge his response. Franky shook his head.
"It's...yeah, you can come in."
Juri nodded and went to sit down on Franky's right so the singer was sandwiched between Jan and Juri.
"Sandra's a materialistic bitch," Juri began, looking at Franky directly, "I told you that when you met her, Franky, but you were too busy staring at her tits and her lip ring to pay attention."
Jan looked wide-eyed at Franky, hoping he took Juri's words well and that World War Three wouldn't start between his band mates in Franky's bedroom right then.
"I'm not gonna take sides if that's what you're worried about. I don't think it's your fault; I don't think it's hers. It's over, I get that."
Franky nodded, a deep frown commanding his brows. Jan frowned as well, confused.
"I'm not mad at you at all, Franky. I like Sandra as a person- she is my cousin- but she's a bitch when it comes to relationships. She doesn't treat guys right and she makes her exes either hate her or become so obsessed with her that they can't think of anyone else. I don't want you to think she's some amazing goddess. She's not. It's cool that it's over."
"You sure?" Franky asked shakily.
Juri smiled.
"Yeah."
"Wait-" Jan butted in, a hazy comprehension dawning on his sluggish brain, "All this was because you thought Juri was mad at you for breaking up with his cousin? Cause you thought Juri wouldn't like you anymore?"
Franky blushed.
"When you put it that way it sounds stupid but…yeah, kind of."
Juri looked amused.
"You can be really tactful, you know that, Jan?" he asked the DJ before turning back to Franky, "We cool?"
"We're cool," Franky said, smiling with obvious relief.
"What the fuck?" Jan groaned into his hand.
"What was that, Jan?" Juri asked.
"Nothing, Juri, nothing at all."