Chapter Text
Frank wouldn't exactly describe his life as going great. His long term girlfriend, AKA high school sweetheart, AKA the woman he thought he was going to marry and start a family with, left him abruptly last year, citing the need to 'find herself.' It wasn't about him, she said, she just needed to 'be on her own a little while,' but it didn't stop Frank's insecurities from telling him it was about his own personal failings.
He'd spent his entire life in bands, ever since he was barely a teenager, and despite growing older and gaining all kinds of responsibilities, he always put music first. That might have been fine and dandy if he ever made any money from it, but between paying for a practice space, guitars, equipment, venue fees and all that jazz, he usually ended up more in the red than anything else.
His last band didn't exactly go anywhere either. He really thought they had something there for a minute (he always does) with their hardcore punk sound and lyrics inspired by classic horror movies, but when the guys all decided overnight to walk the straight and narrow he was left on his own. Again.
And that's how he ended up alone in his matchbox of an apartment isolating for months and writing a mountain of songs he was sure would never see the light of day. He'd never written anything purely by himself before, always had friends, bandmates, or other collaborators to bounce ideas off of, so it took a while for him to find his groove, but once he did, the music ended up spilling out naturally. He was able to channel his emotions, his loneliness, and all of his feelings of abandonment and longing into the melodies of his guitar and the poetry he wrote to accompany it.
It was only after he amassed a handful of really solid (in his humble opinion) tracks that he even faintly considered the idea of performing them. He didn't have a band anymore, but he wouldn't be the first person to ever perform on stage alone. He'd just have to start small. Just him and his guitar, maybe a backing track for some of the more complex stuff. He'd contact some of his local venues and promoters, see if anyone needs an opener or if the bar wanted some free live music on weekends. He just needed to get out there. Start something. Do something. Not being on stage was killing him. He'd figure out the rest later. He always did.
It worked, for a while. The people in the crowd or the bar always politely swayed along to his songs, pumping their fist for encouragement despite not knowing the lyrics, but the handful of tips he got each night was not paying the bills. He was going further and further into debt, and he was struggling to amass any kind of following as a solo act. Did he just not have what it takes to stand on his own? Was he missing some kind of je ne sais quoi to capture people's attention for more than a night? It had really started to feel like that more and more after every performance, and although he never had much trouble finding someone to spend the night with, his love life was also stalling out in a similar fashion, struggling to find someone for whom he kept their interest beyond 24 hours.
Tonight was going to be the same, surely. Whoever this was with their tongue in his mouth that was pressing him up against the wall of the cold dark alley behind his favorite bar would ghost him the next morning just like all the others. Wait. Who was this anyway? He doesn't remember talking to anyone. He was drinking. Alone. The last thing he remembers is the bartender cutting him off and telling him to go home.
He's brought back to the moment as he feels what he assumes is a man's soft hands slide up under the front of his shirt and he slurs a whimper at the touch. He reaches his arms up and drapes them comfortably around their neck, noticing their slight height difference as he leans back against the wall. There's a familiar taste of cigarettes on his tongue and it mixes with the taste of alcohol in his mouth as he tilts his head to pulls them deeper into the kiss. It's sloppy, a combination of his inebriated state and the stranger's… style? Enthusiasm? But he doesn't mind. It feels good. It feels really good.
The stranger pulls away and he tries to make sense of their blurry form, but it's only seconds before they've leaned in, mouthing at his neck and licking across the surface of his skin. Their tongue lavishes over the scorpion he foolishly got tattooed there almost a decade ago and they start sucking hard at a spot just under his jaw. He closes his eyes and leans his head back as his hips tilt forward. "Yeah… yeah that'sssit…" He doesn't care what they look like or what their name is as long as they keep sucking like that.
Suddenly he hears a high-pitched moan slip out next to his ear. Needy. Desperate. Sexy. Not the type of thing he expected from the size or the stature of the person pinning him to the wall, but it turns him on all the more. "Whassthat baby? You wan' more?" He wraps his leg around the stranger's thigh and pulls them closer, trying to find friction against the pressure growing in his jeans.
The stranger's hands unexpectedly still against his torso and the lips against his neck disappear, leaving a cold patch against his skin as it's exposed to the cool night air. Frank whines at the loss and tries to pull them closer once more, but the stranger abruptly pushes him away and he stumbles, failing to find his balance before tumbling to the ground.
"What the fuck?" He squints down the dark alleyway to catch sight of the unusual figure he was playing tonsil-hockey with just moments before, but the shadows play tricks on his intoxicated mind, blurring everything together into one murky dark mass as he hears footsteps hurry away down the concrete passageway.
Whatever. He wasn't trying to get laid anyway. He's got a date with his couch and a party-size bag of chips at his place and he doesn't feel like sharing.
~
The dark bruise forming underneath his jaw is Frank's only reminder of the strange encounter as he spots it in the mirror the next morning. He tries to remember the face of the person who gave it to him, but his mind draws a blank. He remembers waking up alone in his own bed this morning though, so it obviously didn't go too far. Maybe he threw up on their shoes and they called the encounter off. Wouldn't be the first time that happened, but that doesn't mean he's proud of it.
He considers trying to cover it up, but decides against it. Not like his friends have never seen him with a hickey before. They'll get over it after five minutes of teasing.
~
Okay it took six minutes, but only because he was being cagey about how hot the person who gave it to him was. Apparently 'none of your business,' wasn't an acceptable answer.
Before packing up, Frank flips through his camera roll looking for the perfect photos to upload to Instagram. A casual selfie, a shot of him jamming with the guys, and a closeup of his lyrics notepad teasing one of his new songs.
Nothing more inspiring than good frendz getting together to play music. Much luv to the guys for letting me bounce ideas off ya. Hope to share some new solo trax with everyone soon 🖤 xofrnk
Marketing himself has always been a pain in the ass, but he's started to get the hang of it recently. Gotta be casual enough that people find you approachable, but serious enough that they don't write you off as an amateur. Plus a little eye candy never hurts.
After returning home and eating dinner (a classic PB&J for the fourth time this week), he lays back in his bed and scrolls through his notifications. The guys all left comments gassing him up, just like he does for them when they post. Supporting each other in the scene has always been an unspoken rule.
Below them is a comment from someone he doesn't know, but he's seen him in the comments before:
Damn you look good. Wish you'd play with me too 😘
He's about ready to respond with a playful comeback when the reply below it catches his eye. It's from a blank profile and posted less than one minute after the comment it's replying to:
Kill yourself.
"Well that's not very nice." He mumbles under his breath and deletes the comment. Probably some weird spam bot or something.