Jack's footsteps padded the pavement dully as he approached the address in hand, buzzing his lips in exhaustion. So this is where she wanted to meet. A parking garage. As if that wasn't already sketchy enough, he'd have to go up on the rooftop.

A marvelous idea which told him to back out flickered on in his brain. Tempting, yes, but what would be the use in that after all this walking?

"Damn it, Frankie." He muttered under his breath and started the walk inside. The air was slightly moist and humid, and he swore that the sound of some critters tapped his ears as he climbed many staircases. Elevators weren't too appealing, especially in this freaky setting.

I swear to God, if you aren't already there when I get to the top, Jack thought to himself as if it could be a warning. He was on the last set of stairs that led to the roof. These were closed in by concrete walls, and he could see the heavy metal door at the top. Grabbing the cold door handle, he pushed it open and the hinges emitted a loud squeal.

Frankie, who was actually sitting at the edge already, straightened up and looked back in alarm. Jack can see her breathe out a sigh of relief when she realized it was only him entering.

"You actually came," she exclaimed in surprise. Jack bobbed his brows.

"Is that such a surprise, Taylor?"

She raised a brow and smiled. "So we're still on last name terms, I see." Her eyes followed him until he ended up at her side, still standing.

"Okay then... Frankie." He corrected, looking down at her. They stayed in gritty silence for a moment until she tapped the space beside her.

"Are you just gonna stand there looking pretty, or actually sit down?"

He checked his surroundings, searching for nothing in particular, and quickly relents.

"And for the record," she continued as he situated himself. "Yes, it is quite the surprise you showed up, not that I'm complaining."

"Why?" He queried tauntingly, like he dared her to feel otherwise. Frankie sat up to claim her confidence.

"Because I know you hate me," she answered simply. "But I don't really care." Frankie held a neutral face despite his smirk and gentle shake of the head.

"I don't hate you," Jack debunked dryly. The girl arched a cryptic brow in mock surprise, prompting him to continue.

"I probably would've said that I hated you a year ago, but I've now learned what true hatred for a person feels like. So for the time being, I just strongly dislike you."

"The feeling is mutual." Frankie shrugged in acceptance and Jack shrugged off his backpack. She tilted her head at it.

"Did you bring any of your writings?" Frankie attempted to show she wasn't that interested by occupying herself with opening her own bag. At that, she pulls out a bag of sourdough pretzels and two glass bottles of cola.

Jack rubs his temples and nods like it pained him. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

She only hummed in response and retrieved a bottle opener from her bookbag's side pocket. Jack arched a questioning brow.

"Why?" He asked in reference to the snack she brought for them both.

"Why not?" She bit the words, and popped open one bottle of cola before handing it to him. He stared at it in hand, but takes no move to have a sip.

"Like my outfit?" she chirped out of the blue. Frankie had a cropped green top and white jeans.

"Yeah, yeah. Brings out your eyes or whatever." He says with disinterest. Frankie opened the bag of pretzels and took a sip of coke.

Jack finally looked at her closer, studying her tidy appearance. Her eyes were earthy. Not "earthy" in the dark sense of Veronica's dark brown eyes, but they were heartily green through and through, like the green Earth. Her hair was drastically lighter than Veronica's, but not extremely fair like his own. It's the same shade as the sand from the island.

"Can I read some of your stuff?" She points to his bag. Jack laughs under his breath.

"Cutting straight to the point, are you?"

She retreated back in partial embarrassment, and cleared her throat. Jack set the bottle down and shifted to grab his bag. He decided not to warn her about the massive chunks of writing missing from about every paper.

"Have at it," he handed the pile of papers over. Frankie was hesitant, but took the stack from his hands. As expected, she was immediately put off by the amount of dry glued paper that stuck on his words. The girl knit her brows, sorting through the stack. Her confusion deepened with every next paper she checked out.

"Is-is this supposed to line up as a message?" She pointed to the only visible two sections of words on a paper. Separating them was a square of paper. Jack shook his head without letting on the context.

She put it down and looked at the next. "They're... all like this?" She breathed, mainly talking to herself. Jack observed her reaction. A certain bit of wording caught her eye by a hook. She gravitated towards a sequence of familiar words.

Our love is God.

Her finger snapped up to the endearing statement.

"This! This is what you wrote in class!" She jumped frantically. He clenched his jaw as his patience wore thinner.

"Congratulations. You can read. I'm surprised you're not foaming at the mouth already."

She disregarded his flat remark. "What does it mean??"

Jack shrugged. "A way of saying 'I love you' without committing." He chuckled at his dumb joke, not that he found it super amusing. Frankie sighed out in realization as she stared at it. After all that pondering over some dumb sentence...

She went to another page, and read what was written. "Your writing is pretty good, Jack..." she said distantly, not meaning to let pride swell for the annoyingly charming boy.

"It's... very good, actually." The girl almost sounded surprised with herself for saying that. Jack rolled his eyes and diverted focus to the street and town. It looked different being up so high. Frankie ran a finger over a layer of dried glue and hardened paper.

"How come so much of these letters are covered up?" She asked curiously. Jack wavered slightly to gather the words. "Let's just say there's some people I didn't want getting their hands on it."

As the words left his mouth, Frankie flipped to the two papers that were glued together completely. She gave a questioning glance without giving too much attention, and moved on to another.

"From what I can tell... this is all very heartfelt," she inquired softly. More or less, Jack thought.

"You write about this girl a lot. You must like her." Frankie assumes, pointing to a few random holes that were jabbed aggressively into the paper.

"Her name was once here, wasn't it?" Her green eyes met his blue ones. He paused and confirmed.

"Most of these were letters," Jack spoke up. "Well, all of them are, but only about two of those were things I wrote about her, rather than to her."

Frankie bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes ate the crumbs of words provided. The night was dim with street lamps cutting through the darkness. The stars sparked joy in the abyss of black sky. Then there's the moon. A white marble cut in half.

"What's her name?" Frankie piped up, making Jack look back down.

"That's none of your business."

She raised a hand in surrender. "Okay, jeez."

Jack berated himself for being so foolishly defensive. "It's not like you'd know her," he justified, though it was very much likely that she would know this girl.

Frankie shot him a look of contempt. "No, I probably wouldn't," she grumbled and rolled her eyes. "I just wanted to know her name."

He stayed silent, and she didn't ask again.

"Do you have a picture of her?" She asked, not expecting the affirmative. Jack visibly tensed up, and Frankie noticed his widened eyes.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "You do!"

"- I don't," he denied. Frankie shoved the papers aside and shook his arm.

"Can I see her? Pleaseeeeeee?"

"No."

"Oh, come on!" She laughed. "I know plenty about you already, why do you need to hide this?"

He stared at her blankly. Frankie shifted in discomfort by the intense staring, like his blue ass eyes could look into her soul.

"I know you aren't dating your aunt or some weird shit like that, I just wanna see your girlfriend!"

Jack swallowed to smooth down the tightening in his throat at the last word she uttered. He mentally debated it for a second. She wouldn't shut up about it till she saw. Maybe when she was finally quenched of her nosey neediness, she would maybe then understand why his resistance was built up so high.

Jack clenched his jaw and shoved a hand into his pocket.

"You know, for a poetry person, you sure are demanding."

She smiled in joking pride and raised her hands in knowingness. Jack looked at the picture, and held it up, keeping it close to his frame so she wouldn't lean too far forward for a better look. Maybe she'll recognize Veronica immediately.

Frankie took one look and dropped her jaw melodramatically.

"You mean to tell me that you, boring blondie, managed to pull her??" She doubled over laughing and clapped her hands together once. Jack's face was unbelievably neutral.

"She's way out of your league." She continued on. Clearing his throat, Jack held it out further so she'd take it in her hands. He stared at her long and hard in hopes that Frankie would see his blank look.

She raised her brows in surprise but graciously took the photo for a closer look. Jack hadn't ever seen someone's face drop faster.

"Holy shit..." she mumbled, breathing slowly. Her eyes widened while the rest of her features sagged in shock. "That's..."

Frankie looked up at him for a moment in disbelief. "That's the girl..." she stated clearly. "She's the one that got stranded with you guys."

Jack stared, daring that she'd say some more slick shit. Gulping hard, Frankie is quick to back track the error.

"She was pretty." She says softly, and hands the photo back." Jack nods in agreement, and looks at it for himself.

"The prettiest."

Embarrassment ripped and clawed at Frankie's chest. She didn't know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't her. The face that was all over the news.

"Her name was Veronica Sawyer." Jack spoke up, making the girl clamp her mouth shut to hide the astonishment. "... You've probably heard of her."

He said that not as a joke, but to lighten the mood, to make Frankie drop the stupefied look that gripped her cheeks and forehead.

"Uhm-" she stammered before shouting out, "Yeah?! How could I not? She's everywhere!"

Jack laugh under his breath at that. She was definitely everywhere... at least for him. He never watched the news, and rarely read the paper. He would see her plenty of times, lingering behind him in the mirror, watching him from a corner before vanishing. Whether she was a ghost or a sick illusion, it freaked him out to no end.

Frankie clicked her tongue, trying to figure out how she could come back from speaking so insensitivly.

"Wait so- you and her...?" Her thought process was for once failing to make the puzzle pieces click. Jack didn't have to be a genius to know what she meant. He nodded earnestly.

"But wait... weren't you the one to-"

"- Kill her?" He cut her off innocently, cocking his head to the side. Frankie blinked a few times at his new demeanor.

"The media is saying that everywhere, huh?" He chuckled. Frankie can't even muster up the movement to nod anymore.

"The full story isn't even out," he continues. "I can tell you right now it was an accident."

Frankie shook her head, coming down from the spiral. "Jack, what the fuck... How on Earth-"

"- There was a rustle in some bushes..." Jack grumbled, scowling at the memory. "I went for the stab and, you know."

Frankie narrowed her gaze at him, unsure if she should be sympathetic, shocked, frightened, or all of the above.

"Were you..." she trailed off. "In love?"

Jack sniffed and and adjusted his position. "You could say so." That's all he said about romance with a clipped tone.

"And that's the only photo I have of her."

Frankie tilted her head. "How come?"

"I didn't know her beforehand." He digressed. "I took it from her funeral." Jack looked at Frankie again. "I didn't want to forget her face."

"You don't forget someone's face when you're in love," Frankie shook her head. "They exist in your memory always."

Jack chuckled at the mushy sappiness and waved her off. "You sound like every psychiatrist saying that I didn't love her."

Frankie fiddled with her fingers anxiously.

"And no need to get all poetic on me." He dropped his head. Frankie lifted her chin in her usual princessy ways.

"Everything about life is poetic."

He rolled his eyes and looked away, nodding off on her words. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

Frankie thinks for a moment. "Couldn't you just write to her parents?" She questioned logically. "And ask for another photo?"

Jack squinted at her incredulously. "Do you really think they'd react well to me asking that?" He scoffed at the stupid question.

"Sorry for suggesting then," she sassed back. Jack glared at the sarcasm.

"Media is saying you killed her in a rage, or something," she mumbled, trying to see if he knew about that information. Jack's heart jerked up into his throat.

"If I'd known it was her..." he began shakily. "I would have turned away and stopped everything in a heartbeat."

Frankie made a somber face and glanced down at her tangled hands. They both remained silent for a few passing minutes that would be awkwardly broken everytime Frankie would take a sip of her coke.

"So," she promptly looked at him. "There's like-- lots of rumors about what happened."

Jack exhaled slowly, already presuming what she would say.

"But you were there. So that means you know the truth and the whole truth."

Jack smirked at how naïve she sounded. "Like the back of my hand."

Frankie backtracks. "But how would I be sure that you aren't twisting something?"

Jack shrugs with even suspicion. "How do I know you won't go spilling about who I am?"

She dropped her chin and drooped her eyelids as if to say, seriously?

"About everyone knows of you at this point, Merridew." She pointed out. "Plus, I haven't said a word yet, so why would I do so now?"

Jack let his eyes drift back up to the sky as he took those words in. "Fair enough... I guess."

"I don't believe half the stuff being said about you guys," Frankie crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands. The blonde boy looked at her sidelong.

"I hardly know what's being said," he admits. "I avoid it."

She nods in understanding. Okay, that's valid. She mentally balanced her options of which question to ask.

"Jack?"

"Hm?"

She furrowed her brows and debated on how to go about wording this.

"Wasn't there a kid who killed his own brother?"

The question hung in the air like wet paint, dripping in anxious anticipation. Her lips pursed before clarifying her wondering thoughts more thoroughly.

"I mean, I also heard that someone else killed them... there's just so many things being said."

Jack sighs in realization of what she means.

"Oh, you mean the twins."

She looks at him in confusion. He went on, gulping hard.

"Sam and Eric. They didn't kill each other."

Then who did? She thought. Frankie even began to dread that he might just straight out confess it to be him who did it. But that couldn't be so, right?

"The same boy who killed Toby Arnolds killed Eric." he paused. "Roger McAllister."

His old best friend, though she wasn't aware of that point. Frankie takes on a look of alarm.

"Oh- my gosh... uhm, is the living one, uh, okay?" She cringed sheepishly. The question wasn't so simple in hindsight. "How is he?"

Jack shrugs honestly.

"Dunno. I haven't heard anything of the Burrow family in a long time other than they wanna sue Roger." He explains. She raised her brows.

"How would they..." she wasn't exactly sure of what she was planning on asking him.

"No one was convicted, right? How would that even go through? What's-- What's the point of even trying?"

Jack shook his head helplessly. For once, the sympathetic strings were choked out of his throat.

"That was their kid, man..." his blue eyes squint at the memory. "Of course they're gonna be desperate. They want something to come out of this shit since Roger nor I will get any punishment."

He paused again before continuing, shame evident in his tone. "They were failed by the system."

Frankie's face saddened. Being an only child, she didn't get that familial bond that siblings maintained from anyone. Losing a brother or sister would be agonizing, like losing a parent, but the idea of losing a twin felt too unfathomable. Jack's organs flexed under a weight of guilt, and he kept speaking.

"The McAllister's are a rich family with a lot to their name, and we all got off scotch free the first time. Even though everyone who was there confirmed that Roger did it, there's so little evidence."

The boy paused, mouth partially open to review what he actually just said. There's so little evidence. His brows furrowed at the flaws ridden in that claim he just uttered, making him bite the inside of his cheek for how foolish it was.

"What the fuck am I talking about? 'Little evidence' my ass." His voice was boisterous with bitter scoffs. "Roger literally carved his name in the kid's arm. That was all the proof in the world."

Jack chuckled at the hell of it all. He was so sure that their asses, including his own, would be in jail by now. And if it meant Roger would be behind bars, Jack would let himself rot in a cell for all years to come in a heartbeat.

"If Roger McAllister dropped dead today, the world would have one less thing polluting it. If I dropped dead with him, there would be two less."

That smug shit didn't deserve freedom anymore than Jack did. However, the blonde can say that society has made life a living hell for him. In some ways, the mental torture it plagued him with was undoubtedly worse than prison. He can only guess-- hope-- that it was worse for Roger. Frankie huffed and darted her eyes around. Jack took notice of her complexed action and continued.

"As for Sam..." he sighed at the sorrow truth about to be spoken. "The kid could've caved under the trauma from the island, and offed himself by now, for all I know..." He hesitates after saying that.

"I would hope that's not the outcome, of course."

Frankie pursed her lips. Two twins, like two birds on a wire. One dies at such a young age, then the other is forced to live with it after being so accustomed to the co-dependent lifestyle.

"That's really sad." She muttered somberly.

"I should've probably been more sensitive saying that," Jack checked his error. Frankie shrugged. It was already said, nothing anyone can do about it now.

"I don't even know what I'd say if I ever saw him again." His blue eyes looked vacant, devoid of any answers.

"I don't think he'd want me to say anything at all. It was all so fucked. If anyone could've helped him and his brother during that time, it would only be me. I did nothing."

"I can't even imagine what it was like," said Frankie. A certain hesitance clung to her cautious words. 

"I think that the worst experience of it all was facing her mother," Jack gazed out ahead of him. Frankie can comprehend that. Nothing stronger than a mother's love. She let his words spill.

"Hearing her scream when I broke the news." He looks at the girl next to him. "Then again, I don't know why the hell I'm telling you about all this shit."

She forced a sheepish smile. "I have that effect on people?"

He looked away again. "I guess something like that just serves as a reality check. That you aren't the only person on the planet."

Frankie began to wonder how her mother would react if she learned who she was hanging out with as Jack spoke.

"And everytime I think I'm starting to come around again, I see something on the news, or a letter comes in from a random person to remind me of everything."

"One step forward and two steps back," Frankie finished for him. Jack reached out and began to gather up the defiled letters. The girl let him do this without any aid after hearing what she heard. Jack wouldn't want them to be touched by another person anymore than they already are.

"Your letters," she spoke up. "They're very nice."

Jack stayed silent and carefully put them in his bag, small stack by stack.

"I can tell you really loved her, from what I could read."

Jack scoffed at the obliviousness. Everyone always says the same old thing.

"Loved," he spat under his breath harshly at how pathetically ignorant it was. Therapists, psychiatrists, his father... they all described Jack's feelings towards Veronica as though they were past tense. Even currently, her name still very much has a special dwelling in his heart after all these months. Because of that, it left his mind on a teetering limbo between serenity and insanity.

"I still do love her, thanks."

A pause beat in the air. "I love her completely."

Of course he did. Even before he cared to admit it. Love is to blame when it leaves someone feeling both vulnerable, and on top of the world all at once.

Frankie bowed her head. "Right." Maybe she should stop trying to console him over a situation that she had no knowledge of... she liked that idea.

"Aren't you gonna drink that?" She points to his untouched coke. He glanced at it and passed it to her.

Knitting her brows, Frankie leaned away and put her hands up to show she didn't want it.

"No, I don't want it," she shook her head vigorously. "I'm asking if you're not gonna drink it, because I brought it for you."

Groaning like it was some overwhelming burden, Jack hastily took a sip. The fizz tickled and poked at his tongue and grabbed his throat as he swallowed. Frankie rolled her eyes at the drama he put up.

"You know," she started talking again, pulling one knee up to her chest and let her other leg dangle. "I joined poetry class after my parents got a divorce."

He pushed away from the edge and laid on his back, looking up at the pretty girl.

"I can't really compare this to losing a first love, but... It tore me up really badly at the time," she regrettably admitted. Her green eyes danced around looking at the stars.

"My dad left my mom to remarry this really unpleasant woman." She emphasized bitterly. "He just left my mama and I in the dust. My poor mom could hardly get by, but she really tries to give me everything."

She sighed a laugh under her breath, and Jack directly chose to ignore her voice cracks. There's certainly nothing he could say or do.

"He treats his new kids so much better, and doesn't even do as much as send me a Christmas card for God's sake!" She threw her arms up at how ridiculous it was.

"I used to be daddy's little girl, but that apparently means nothing to him." She made a sour face and looked off to the side.

"That might just sound stupid, though, I dunno." She sighed and finally looked back at the blonde who stared at her intently.

"Nah, it ain't that stupid," he teased to lighten the mood. She couldn't repress the smile creeping on her lips, and finally caved, looking away to hide her reddened face.

"I joined the poetry class, and I could just write my way out of all the stress. And by that point, I made it a personal goal to make my mom extra proud with everything I did in my academics."

She paused to take a breath and listed the things out on her fingers.

"I take all honors and AP courses, I'm student body president at the stuffy prep school I attend..." she rolled her eyes.

"I got more involved with clubs, so I worked my way up to drama club president, and run a seperate poetry club at school, and I do Anchor club, which is lots of community service."

She looked back at him to scan for a reaction. He just held the same thoughtful expression, seeming to genuinely take her words into deep consideration. Oddly validating, but she tried to ignore.

"So yeah. Poetry club has been just... the best escape for me. It was a way for me to pour my heart out about my dad and his new wife."

She blinked back tears and now refused to look at Jack.

"Sorry, I know that this sounds impossibly dramatic, and I can't really compare it to other people's problems." She scowled and began to mock what she thought other people thought of her.

"Everyone would probably think, poor little rich, smart girl and her little family problems."

She let out an exasperated sigh, and finally let her frame slump over, resting her elbows on her knees. Jack arched a brow.

"Well that's not what I'm thinking," he said reasonably, placing a hand on his chest. "My dad's remarried, too. N' I don't find that I'm very fond of my stepmom either."

Frankie looked back and gave him a sympathetic look. "Did your mom leave you in the dust like my dad?"

She didn't expect what his answer would be. Jack sucked in his cheeks but pretty much agreed.

"Yeah, she kicked the bucket a long time ago and left me with a hothead of a father, and a stepmom who can't stay in her place and keep out of my business."

They both recoiled in reaction to those words. Frankie winced and mentally kicked herself. Again. She can't seem to stop saying the wrong things at the wrong time.

As for Jack, he berated himself for unintentionally devaluing all the problems she just poured out, and the fact that he was still oversharing his life to a girl he hardly knew.

"I'm sorry." Frankie said softly.

He waved her off dismissively. It wasn't his intention to selfishly guilt trip.

"It's fine, really. I hardly remember her," he laughed. "I know how you females can be with a man's emotional vulnerability, especially Veronica..." he trailed off at the mention of her name but pushed that aside.

"It's really fine. I didn't mean to throw that out. It was an uncomfortable mention."

Frankie can't help but nod in agreement.

"I guess we're all just a little bit damaged," he joked lightheartedly. She rubbed her hands over her face, relieved to dump that load off her chest. She smiled at the boy.

"About what you said, quote unquote, females obsessing over a big man's emotional vulnerability," she rolled her eyes at how pathetic is sounded. "I don't really get that whole concept that people gush over like it's the pinnacle of living -- I don't even know how to explain it."

Jack raised a cheek. "Then by all means, Taylor..." he drawled. "Pray tell."

She sighed with a certain loathing to how he addressed her, but swallowed her rising retorts and went on.

"What I mean is... there's so many unspoken rules about good girls being with good guys, and bad guys with bad girls, and if you break those rules it's either gonna be romanticized or get you chastised for it by different groups of people. It's like you can't please everyone."

Jack learned to not be a people pleaser a long time ago.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find the words to continue. The blonde stared at her with a blank face that she didn't want to dive into.

"A girl would only feel the need to scrape for a guy's emotional vulnerability if it was a good girl-bad guy relationship, but it's not supposed to be that way in an idealistic world, right? I don't understand why girls feel the need to scrape for such minuscule details in bad people when there's better apples higher up the tree."

He lolled his head to the side and decided to cut in.

"It's not all as black and white like you're explaining it to be. Relationships aren't just a one-sided concept."

She furrowed her brows in curiosity as to where he was trying to get with this.

"Someone will come into your life whether you want them to or not. When the realization hits you, you won't even be ready for it. There's always gonna be people that think differently, and feel the need to reach completely opposing goals."

He chewed his lip, zoning out into space. A yearn tingled at his fingertips to feel another hand in his which was no longer accessible. Six feet under.

"Sometimes you learn change is good. There's a balance with two opposing people. If you have too much of one thing, it's boring. But you get a new exhilaration when you find that one rule follower. One who gives you a good chase, who knows just how to comeback from an argument."

"Veronica Sawyer?" Frankie guessed, raising her brows. Jack stared at her, long and hard so she'd catch the affirming look, but he would leave her to ponder it.

"Sure, there's good apples and bad apples in the tree," he shrugged. "But what's bad for you may not be bad for someone else. All I'm saying is, sometimes you need that person who can match your fire, give you a bit of a rise no matter how infuriating it can be. Vanilla isn't enough for some of us. Love is unexpecting. There's not just one side to it even if you wanna force that ideology."

Frankie breaks out into a chuckle. "Oh, Jack Merridew! You almost sound poetic!" She exclaimed sarcastically.

He waved her off. "Yeah, don't get used to it. It's not my fault you're blind to something as poetic as love." Jack spat the last word.

Expecting her to scorn his response, the exact opposite happened. Frankie smiled, and shook her head. Jack thinks for a moment and looks at her.

"Do you wanna hang out again tomorrow?"

A moment of surprise flashed evidently on her face to hear that from him of all people. She nods her head, stammering through words.

"Um- Tomorrow? Yeah, I mean yeah!"

He smirked at her in amusement and sat up.

"You wanna meet here? Again?" She raised a brow. Jack shook his head and dug through his bag for a blank paper and pencil.

"Nah, somewhere else. I can pick you up from your house if you give me your address."

He handed her the two things, almost in question to see if she'd be up for it. She raised her brows, utterly dumbfounded that he was offering to not only hang out, but pick her up, too.

"Y-Yeah." She scribbled it down, bearing the pencil against her knee as she wrote.

"I can pick you up in my dad's car." He offers. "The drive shouldn't be more than an hour."

She stopped and glanced up at him. "An hour? Where are we going?"

"I wanna show you something, and I need to stop by somewhere if you wanna tag along."

She held her breath and resumed writing, trying to find the right words. "Uhm, can you enlighten me on where that might be?"

"I'll end the suspense," he shrugged. "We're going to a school and a cemetery."

"Cemetery??" Frankie laughed at the absurdity. "And you thought meeting here was sketchy." She handed him the address.

"That's the place I need to go to." He folded the paper and placed it in the front pocket of his bag. "I haven't been in a long time. My visit's long overdue."

"Kay then." She bobbed her brows and went with it. "What time are you picking me up?"

"11 a.m. sound good to you?"

"Sure," she chirped. To be somewhat polite, Jack took a sip of the coke she brought him, which he hardly touched. Frankie jumped on his action and finished her bottle off. Jack held his hand out.

"Lemme see that."

Unsure of what he was trying to do, she hesitantly handed the empty bottle over. Jack held it carefully, the cool glass smooth in his hands. Frankie watched him observe it in confusion. Just then, he pulled his arm back and chucked the glass bottle far over to the street below. Frankie just couldn't anticipate that.

"Jack!" She straightened up at the piercing sound of glass shattering. He shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back once more. She continued staring down at the millions of shards, her mouth agape.

"What was the point of that?" The girl scolded in disapproval. Jack lifted a hand.

"Didn't know I needed a reason."

She scorned quietly and crossed her arms. Jack pretended not to notice her antics and minded himself.

"I don't suppose your father would approve of that?" She guesses. Jack answered her absentmindedly while lifting his hands to trace across the thousands of stars.

"Why no, I don't reckon he would, my love." he mocked her painfully proper choice of speech.

She opened her mouth to argue but changes her mind. Instead, she leaned back beside him to look at the night sky.

"Do you star gaze often?" She turned her head to look at the side of his face. He had a prominent jawline, she noticed.

"Less than I used to." He hummed, and then turned to look at her. They stayed like that for a moment. Frankie could actually take in his features. His gold lashes, soft blue eyes...

"I think it's time we head home now," Jack sat up abruptly. Frankie frowned at the sudden change.

"Already?"

"Yeah." He began to gather his things, taking one more long sip of coke before dropping it over the edge. Frankie watched it fall and flinched when the sound of shattering glass braced the air.

"Did you walk here?" He checked. Frankie nodded her head, and slung her own back pack over her shoulder.

"I'll walk you home then."

She gripped the strap of her bag tighter. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's not that safe for a girl to walk around at night."

Frankie repressed a smile at the offer, and she sure as hell wouldn't object to it. "Well... thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled and stood up. The blonde held out a hand to help her to her feet. Frankie stared at the kind gesture stupidly as she tried to process the small act of kindness coming from Jack. She took his hand gingerly and let him help.

Her hand burned numbly at the foreign contact, but he didn't let their hands linger long as he pulled away and started to walk ahead. Frankie skipped by his side, their demeanors contrasting greatly.

"So you're picking me up at eleven?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, side eyeing the specific pep in her step. It made him chuckle lightly.

"Guess I'm growing on you after all," she flaunted, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Jack lifted a cheek and shook his head.

When they made it down to the street, they didn't drop much commentary on the walk to Frankie's house. She didn't pick up on the ways his head would dart in search of other bystanders on the street who could notice him. He preferred to keep his head down, to be as invisible as possible. Life was only easier this way.

He enjoyed how the nights were just a bit cooler than the day time. Summer night walks were something he missed, as he no longer went out unless it was to buy some things from the store for his dad. They approached a crosswalk the same time a car pulled up. Jack instinctively lowered his head but thought nothing of it when the guy rolled down his window.

Familiar with people like this, Frankie kept her eyes off the man and pushed the crosswalk button to wait.

"Hey, guys." The much older voice called out. Her blood chilled, and she felt Jack tense up for a drastically different reason than hers.

"Hey, guys!" He called out, a bit more urgently. "Whose pretty lady is this?"

Frankie almost turned to answer him, but Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her across the street when the signal changed.

"Just go," he whispered.

"A fucking creep," she murmered when the man in the car lost interest and sped off. Jack let go of her arm and held onto the straps of his bag instead.

"You don't live too far, do you?" He glanced to the girl. She shook her head.

"No, that's why I had you meet at the parking garage," she answered. "Why? Was it a far walk for you?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Only twenty minutes."

Her eyes widened. "Twenty?" She looked at him apologetically. "Sorry about that. It's only like five minutes for me."

"It's fine," he disregards. "I don't mind it."

They both naturally walk in a fairly swift pace. Neither of the two were struggling to keep up with the other, which is convenient.

They neared a street that had houses more so on the larger scale, and it was gated off. They looked like some of the older homes that had been in this town since the beginning.

"Over here," she ushered him along. Frankie pushed open the gate, which Jack found odd that it was an easy entry for any outsider to come storming in.

"You live on this street?"

"Duh," she laughed. He made a face but kept moving. On the fourth house down is where Frankie led him up the driveway.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" She beamed. Jack grumbled under his breath, "Nothing about you is humble."

He slowed his pace and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Do you wanna meet my mom?" She pointed her thumb back over her shoulder to the front door as she walked backwards.

"Ehh," Jack trailed off and took a step back, glancing around anxiously. "I think it'd be better if I just-"

"Oh, right." She fixed, waving her hands to backtrack. "Sorry."

Frankie dug in her pockets for her key and stepped up the brick stairs.

"Thanks for walking me home," she said to the blonde, fiddling with the lock. "And I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep," he began to head down the driveway, waving her off. Frankie shyly waved back before slipping inside her house. She could hear movement in the living room. Her mother must be awake still.

"I'm home!" She called out.

Her mother answered back. "How was it?"

Frankie entered the living room where her mom was sitting and reading. Tossing her bag on the couch, she flopped down and curled up against the right corner.

"It was good," she said, her tone perky. "He's gonna pick me up at eleven to hang out again tomorrow." She informed the surprised woman. "If that's okay with you."

"It's fine," she sighed giddily that her daughter had gotten back from hanging out with a boy. "Is he driving?"

Frankie nods.

"Then be sure to stay safe."

Frankie mumbled her own thoughts and hugged her arms tighter around herself.

"So..." her mother looked at her playfully. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

Frankie clicked her tongue and hesitated. "Well, no-"

"I knew it!" Charlotte exclaimed, clasping her hands together joyfully. "See, I just knew-"

"- Mama!" The girl snapped. "His girlfriend has passed on. Please."

She had never seen her mom shut her mouth faster.

"Oh." She said. "Then... yeah."

Frankie rolled her eyes and flopped back down. "He's too arrogant for me anyhow."

Charlotte pretended to focus on her book again, feebly playing her error off.

"Y-Yeah. What's the deal with arrogant guys anyway?" She forced an uncomfortable laugh. Frankie inhaled deeply at her mother's attempt.

"I'm gonna go to bed now," she sat up to give her mother a side hug. Charlotte curled her arm around Frankie's waist and squeezed her close. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mama," she sighed and headed up to her room.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Jack opened his front door with the spare key he had to be welcomed by the sight of his father waiting at the table.

"Uh, hey?" He raised a brow. His father looked up from some catalogue he busied himself with reading.

"How was it?" He asked almost immediately, hoping for some positive feedback. Jack set his bag down on the counter.

"It was fine. She was fine. We were fine." He sighed out in boredom to answer every question he already anticipated to be asked. Dean watched Jack go to fill a cup of water.

"Also, dad, can I borrow the car or truck tomorrow?"

This was an odd request that raised some questioning from Dean.

"That depends... why?"

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and answered.

"Because... I'm hanging out with Frankie again tomorrow, but I'll need one of the vehicles."

Dean was more than mildly surprised, much more than when he found out about them meeting on this night.

"Uhm, what're you guys doin' tomorrow then?"

Jack tightened his fists. He didn't plan what he was gonna say.

"We might just get food and go for a drive, or..." he trailed off and mumbled, "Something like that."

The lie slipped off his tongue seamlessly. Dean nodded in approval, taking this as a good sign for Jack's health.

"You can take the truck, but I'll need to know when you're leaving."

"I'm picking her up at eleven, so I guess a little bit before then."

Dean stood up and slapped the catalogue on the counter before looking up at Jack.

"Right then. That's fine by me." The pride laced in his voice was not well hidden. Jack widened his eyes in annoyance and took a sip of water. Before he could walk to his room, Dean stopped him again.

"Eat something before you go to bed," he ordered. "You're getting scrawny."

"Kay," Jack forced the word out, staring at his father's back begrudgingly as the man left the kitchen to probably pass the news on to meddlesome Michelle.

Jack opened the pantry and grabbed a package of ramen. He didn't eat as much as he used to. Not that it bothered him, he just would genuinely forget to eat.

Certain foods he'd avoid. Especially pork. The first time Dean chose to fry bacon one morning weeks after their rescue, Jack nearly vomited at the smell when he entered the kitchen. Too many bad memories. Let's just say they haven't prepared bacon ever since. He started a boiling pot of water and leaned up against the counter.

He thought about where they'd be going tomorrow, and pondered why he chose to bring Frankie. Maybe it's simply because she knows the little things now. There's a fine line of trust there. For once, somebody knows, and has heard. Maybe that's why he so thoughtlessly said he'd bring her along. And as of now, he doesn't regret it.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮
𝟭𝟬:𝟰𝟳 𝙖𝙢

Frankie had woken up bright and early to get ready. She would check the window frequently in between preparing herself a small breakfast of tea and oatmeal. She was a bit surprised herself that he even invited her to come along, but she wasn't complaining.

Okay, we're seeing a school, and visiting some cemetery, Frankie mentally noted. An idea popped in her head. Why not get flowers for the cemetery? Her mother had lots of rose bushes right in front of her house.

Going outside with some clippers, she snipped two roses. That's all she would need. Careful with the thorns, she hurried inside to remove the thorns. It took about the rest of the time she had.

Soon enough Jack pulled up to the front in his dad's truck. Turning down the volume on his radio, he sat back and waited, tapping his knees. Her house looked nice. It was definitely an older home, as were the rest on this street. He didn't end up needing the address after he walked her home the night before. The blonde looked down at his hands and reviewed what he was doing.

You're here waiting for this girl in front of her house, and taking her to two different prized places as if you've known her forever. She knows a portion of what happened, yet she still agreed to come along.

His head perked up to the sound of her front door opening. She skipped down the driveway with two roses in her hand. He arched a brow in thought at them as she approached the car.

"Hey there," she spoke through the small crack of the window. Jack lifted a cheek and unlocked the door so she could pull it open.

"Were you waiting out here too long?" She asked worriedly. Jack scrunched his face and shook his head.

"Nah, you're fine." He put the car in drive and pulled off the side of the street. Frankie crossed her legs modestly and sat the flowers on her lap.

"Make sure you're buckled." He reminded her. Thrown off guard, she muttered a small oops and quickly did so as he drove out of the street. Frankie didn't want this to be an awkwardly quiet drive, but she felt uneasily out of place in this car. It was so foreign, especially since again, she's with Jack.

The girl side eyed him and his laid back demeanor. He settled into the seat and coolly kept one hand on the steering wheel with his eyes on the road, periodically checking the rearview mirror.

On the normal basis, Frankie would observe him with reluctant fascination, knowing all the things she'd heard in the news. She admired his natural finesse and the unbreaking ability to constantly appear immaculate, despite being slightly rugged and disheveled on some days. All the wealthy tokens of his youth were stripped away from him, but the charisma still popped out for a cameo from time to time.

"How long is this drive again?" She popped a question to shatter the stiff tranquility. It bothered her more than it bothered him.

"It's like- forty minutes away, but it'll probably be an hour with traffic."

Truthfully, Frankie didn't forget how long they'd be on the road. She just hated the silence.

"You have your license?" She queried. Jack turned his head to look at her only for a split moment.

"Why, are you paranoid or something?" He chuckled. "Yes, I have my license."

She opened her mouth, struggling a faltered moment to materialize a response.

"Uhm- no, I'm not paranoid," she insisted. "I'm just checking to be sure."

He smirked and nodded his head like he was unconvinced. The normally cocky girl looked too skiddesh to be telling the truth. In actuality, she just felt out of place.

"So... Jack," she folded her hands. "I feel like we hardly know anything about each other, and I'd like to know about your life, erm- before everything."

He smacked his lips to keep from grinning at how off standish she was being.

"All about life stories?" He raised a brow. "What do you want to know exactly?"

Frankie set back against the seat, giving up the proper posture act and twirled a strand of hair through her fingers.

"You know," she spoke slowly. "Anything about your life, and what you did for fun, and stuff like that."

"I get it," he laughed. "I used to pester people about life stories all the time." He glanced over to her, but she was already looking at him.

"Is the truck too hot?" He asked out of the blue. Not waiting for an answer, he put the cool air on blast and settled again.

"Right. My life." He buzzed his lips, deciding where to start. "I'm sure you know that I was in military school?"

Frankie wavered slightly. "I may have heard something about that."

He thought for a moment before continuing. "Do you know how I wound up in the academy?"

Frankie smiled and looked at him questionably as to where this was going. "Uhm, no." She answered. "Can you enlighten me?"

"It was before I had my license. I only had a driver's permit but I really wanted to go see my cousin down in North Carolina."

Frankie glared at him, though it was slightly in an amused way.

"My neighbors were away and they left their car. So, you know, I borrowed it-"

He was cut off by Frankie smacking her hands to her face as she laughed. "Jack!" The girl gasped in disbelief. "You did not a steal a car, you liar!" She grinned widely and slapped his arm lightly. He put his free arm up, indicating that she could consider the source if she so wished.

"The car was reported missing and they caught me driving 80 on the highway."

Frankie giggled with her fist pressed to her lips. "Jack, you did not, oh my gosh." She let her head fall into her hands again.

"Believe what you want," he shrugged. She sat up again quickly.

"Wait- how did you get your license after that offense?" She judged him incredulously, assuming she'd caught him red handed.

Rolling his eyes, Jack reached for his wallet in the glove department. Somehow multitasking, he flipped it open to show off his registered license. She knit her brows and shook her head.

"How?!"

"I dunno," he said truthfully, putting his wallet away. "I didn't go to jail, though. I was dropped off in military school after going to alternative school one too many times. My dad had enough."

She blinked and bobbed her eyebrows, scoffing as she flopped back in her seat.

"He was in the military, and he went to the same academy growing up. Valley Forge."

Frankie propped her one foot on the edge of the seat so her knee was closer to her chest. That way she could "lounge" easier.

"I met all my friends at that school, before we all kinda split apart after being recused."

She felt empathetic, but didn't show this on her face.

"I worked my way up to the last rank I held, Cadet First Lieutenant."

Frankie did a light applause with her two index fingers, making Jack snicker.

"I was in the choir-"

"YOU were in a choir?" She dropped her jaw to the floor. "Jack Merridew, you surprise me everyday!"

He rolled his eyes. "Make it more obvious, would ya?"

She smirked and played with her necklace.

"It might surprise you even more that I was head of that same choir."

Frankie smacked her lips to show how fed up she was with these little crazy facts, and stared at him with a look.

"Seriously? You can sing?"

He nodded. "I can sing a C sharp."

"Shut up, you're so full of shit," she laughed lightly and diverted focus to her window. He grinned and combed his fingers back through his hair.

"Whatever you say, Franko."

She looked at him and frowned with unfamiliarity. "What's with the nickname?"

"Like it?" He teased. "I'm good at coming up with nicknames, huh?"

She looked at him with annoyance boiling in her gut. "Do you come up with nicknames for every girl you talk to?"

He shrugged. "Depends on how much I like you." He smirked at her inner struggle.

"What was Veronica's nickname?"

"Vera." He said. "She didn't like it, but I thought it was nice."

"It is nice," Frankie agreed. "Can you tell me a bit about her?"

The interest she showed puzzled him to no end, but he carried on.

"Uh, sure. I guess." He checked the side view mirror and looked over his shoulder before switching lanes. Frankie straightened up in anticipation. It's not like you would get such details anywhere else. The idea of everyone on the island in general served her a big curiosity.

"She was uptight, and super stubborn," Jack swallowed the knot in his throat that would swell up at any point he'd begin to reminisce her.

"Vera typically found things to object to in any situation, I swear it."

"I mean tell me about her, not just insult her," Frankie cut in. Setting his jaw, Jack flickered his eyes from the road, to Frankie, then back to the road.

"I think you're misunderstanding that I loved those things about her," Jack corrected the girl. Frankie pursed her lips and internally screamed at herself again. He chuckled at the memories.

"She was super fun to argue with. I could set her off really easily by calling her a bunch of dumb shit, like 'Aloe Vera' and 'Chickadee'."

Frankie broke into a smile as he explained all this.

"In high school, Veronica was Valedictorian, which she prided herself for. She was in a book club. Fucking nerd," he kidded to lighten his mood, and kept the tears at bay.

"She always talked about playing croquet with her friend group -- they were all this really popular clique."

Frankie can admit that she's been in ber own fair share of cliques. She can guess that Jack was definitely higher up on the popularity scale in school.

"Veronica was also on the yearbook committee, so she told me she was always photographing things."

Frankie tilted her head to the side. "Did you ever get to see some of her work?"

He nodded slowly like it pained him. "Some of it was displayed at her funeral," he managed to force out. Frankie's heart lurched at the crack in his voice. "Displayed next to her own poetry."

Jack took another glanced at Frankie for her reaction.

"She was into poetry?"

He nods and takes the chance to make a joke before it got too sappy in the truck.

"Yeah, only the chick didn't make it her whole personality trait."

Frankie snickered at the joke, as did he. Wiping his own grin off his face, he continued on, his face lighting up more and more.

"She wanted to major in psychology when she went to college," Jack added. "That's why she was on the plane the first place... she wanted to take a tour at Coventry University."

That stewed in the thick silence that followed. The whole reasoning for her to board the plane in the first plane. Frankie pressed her lips together -- she didn't know what to say.

"She was really beautiful," Jack sighed. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, unsure how to process that he was saying those words out loud in front of Frankie.

"But she knew it," he smiled at the thought. "I'd still remind her everyday if I could."

A knife of perplexed sadness pushed into Frankie's chest. Jack with an emotional side? Psh, yeah right, is what she would've said a few weeks ago. She thought it was sweet to hear him talk about a girl like this.

"She really liked to wear rings," Jack said matter of factly. That slipped his mind for a bit of time. Did that mean he was forgetting her? How could such a vital point go forgott-

"You should get her a ring," Frankie blurted out. Jack almost reprimanded the insensitivity of that statement but she jumped to clarify her meaning.

"I mean to get one in memory of her." She explained. Jack thought about it and shrugged. He could almost feel the thick paint still caking to his cheeks. He resisted the urge to feverishly scrape his face.

"Can we stop talking about her?"

The knife twisted in her chest, and she nodded. From then on, they went about ranting how stupid it was when restaurants sold sweet tea that wasn't sweet at all.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Around 1:10ish, they pulled up to a certain building in Sherwood, Ohio. Westerburg high school. The school Veronica attended. A large brick structure rooted into the ground. The school emblem stamped itself right on the front to amplify the well-kept courtyard.

Jack hopped out the truck, gazing in awe as he walked around the vehicle. Not that he thought it was some state of the art looking school. He just felt so dumbfounded knowing that Veronica breathed this same air. Walked on the same ground.

A big staircase progressed up to big red doors at the top. He leaned against the truck when Frankie stepped out and came up next to him.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" She asked. He nodded, preoccupied with staring at the place.

"This is where Veronica went to school."

She mouthed, oh, to herself and took a harder gaze at the building. A look of familiarity crosses her face.

"Wait," Frankie muttered, second guessing herself. "This is the school that almost got bombed a few years ago."

Jack glanced her way, not fully comprehending. She caught his very perplexed expression.

"Yeah," Frankie continued. "Some guy almost bombed the place." She shook her head at the bizarre statement that hardly had any real explaination.

"Apparently the guy had a breakdown and blew himself up instead. Crazy shit."

That certainly was something to hear the day he went to visit a memorable place of his dead girlfriend. Jack swept his gaze back over the now much more ominous building.

"Yeah... crazy shit." That reminded him of something that Vera told him a few weeks before she was killed. Her ex boyfriend died her senior year. Jack didn't know why or how. He just knew that there was some cut-throat people who attended this school.

Frankie sighed and sat into her hip. "Veronica could have known the guy for all we can imagine!" She waved her hands for emphasis, though it didn't seem to tap Jack's mind. "It would have happened her senior year!"

Jack pursed his lips and shook his head. "Veronica back then wouldn't even think to associate herself with someone like that."

"You're probably right."

Jack crossed his arms, and scanned the structure. He wanted to memorize every nook and cranny. Every corner and inch of it. He wanted to imagine Veronica living her best years with her popular friends and going to fun parties. It was easier to think of it this way.

"If you don't mind me asking..." Frankie interjects. "Of all places, why did you guys move to a town that's forty minutes from Sherwood, her hometown?"

Silence chased the statement away. "We didn't know till later... when everyone was gossiping about it and making up little speculations."

"I'm sorry," she said breathily. "That you hear so many whispers and rumors."

He waved her off. "I got used to it, though." Frankie doesn't fully believe this.

"It only really hurts if it has something to do with Vera."

That nickname left such a nostalgic taste on his tongue. It's only been eleven months, but it feels like an eternity.

"You know, next month in September will mark a whole year since the crash," Jack said flatly. Frankie looked at the side of his face. Her features dropped and eyebrows arched sadly.

"How're you feeling about that?" She softly quizzed. He can only shake his head. That provided enough of a response for her to understand.

"Anyway," he began to take steps back towards the truck. "We need to visit the cemetery."

Frankie almost forgot about that. Jack spoke again.

"It's back in the direction of Springfield." That's the name of the town they live in.

"It's near us?" She cocked her head to the side and followed him back to the truck.

"Not exactly. It's a few towns away from us, but the cemetery is on the drive home."

"Oh," she responded, and climbed into the passenger side seat. Jack laughed under his breath.

"And to think I used to walk across whole towns to get from my house, to the cemetery, then back to my house again."

Frankie can't help but laugh along.

"Why didn't you just drive?

"Wasn't in the right headspace to be on the road back then." Jack started the truck up. A hum vibrated through her chest for a moment when he put the vehicle in drive.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

He pulled into a desolate gravel parking lot shaded by low hanging trees and moss.

"This is a pretty area," Frankie observed. He doesn't answer and instead focused on the best way to park with all the foliage creating some intricate obstacle course. The small rocks and gravel crunched and grind together under the wheels.

"Here's good," she piped up. He took her better judgement and stopped the truck. Without him seeing, she grabbed her two roses before hopping out. All Jack heard was the slamming of the passenger door. When he climbed out, he walked ahead, and let Frankie follow behind him. She skipped for a little bit of the way, but dwindled the pep in her step down to a stroll when they neared the cemetery gates.

When they visited her school, Frankie had already guessed it was to see Veronica's grave. A place where Jack's visit was long overdue, he told her. She saw an invisible weight push his shoulders down like a heavy burden as they got closer and closer. Her breathing became heavier when rows and rows of different, unique headstones speckled the green grass.

It was ominously beautiful, she couldn't help but think. Frankie never thought that graveyards should be looked at as sad, all doom and gloom scary places. They're resting places. Pure peace for the souls. It's where people leave their mark. That was more beautiful to her than anything. Jack pushed the metal gate open. There was a box where a person would normally stand in and buzz people in, but it was empty.

Jack took a pause like he was taking a pill to sober his throbbing mind. A second of preparation. She pursed her lips and stood awkwardly behind him to allow this moment of solitude to slip by.

"Sorry," Jack finally mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose to find his bearings.

"S'okay..." Frankie answered meekly.

"This place feels creepy as shit," the blonde had yet to regain his pace.

"It's beautiful." Frankie said immediately, narrowing her brows at his back. Jack turned around, perplexed to no end for her dumb, defensive ramblings.

"It's beautiful to see the flowers on graves... it shows that people still care. And the dates on the graves," she continued. "It shows the length of someone's life, and how long they've made a mark on the world."

Jack stared at his feet now while Frankie went on this dissertation.

"They're all resting now, peacefully. Some of them are sleeping next to their families for eternity." She looked at Jack again with a spring-hued gaze, and spoke in an almost hopeful voice.

"Don't you think... that's beautiful?" The words drifted through the air like falling leaves. He sniffled and shrugged. Veronica wasn't by any of her family members, and died in a sick way in the arms of her killer. Nothing about that was beautiful. He scorned Frankie's words, and hid it.

"Sure. Whatever," he spat begrudgingly as she stared solemnly. "Let's keep moving."

Frankie and Jack were careful with their steps as to not step on any graves. The blonde walked directly in front of the girl, and she walked in his tracks with focus on the green ground. Some of the headstones in the far back corner of the cemetery looked messy, and almost black. They were crumbling like cake, which meant the writing was likely almost illegible.

She passed by a headstone, one especially small. 1954-1955, was engraved in the stone. Her stomach coiled in agitated sorrow, and she hurried past the sight.

Jack felt a dreariness cling to his bones, pulling them down as he spotted a familiar headstone, the one he was walking towards. The feeling never got easier. It didn't matter how often he visited. If anything, it only got harder than the last. They stepped up to it, and Frankie who was keeping her focus on the path beneath them, nearly bumped straight into the tall boy when he came at a sudden halt. She looked at the headstone and winced.

Veronica Sawyer
Feburary 15, 1973 - Feburary 17th, 1992

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, debating on whether or not she should say anything at all. The girl sent many anxious glances to Jack who was standing unnaturally stiff, staring down at the grave below. She decided now would be a good time to push the boundaries with her struggling companion. As Frankie drew in a shaky breath, she hesitantly shuffled forward to lightly touch his arm. His skin twitched and fluttered under the contact.

"Jack," she whispered to steal his attention, bracing herself like he'd snatch his arm away and lash out in screaming anger. To her relief, he turned his head calmly. Surprisingly tepid considering the circumstance. A pair of rain cloud-eyes thundered somberly in her direction, like they'd start raining soon. It made Frankie's heart wedge itself in her throat.

Slowly, she held out one of the two roses. "For you," she whispered, and nodded to Veronica's grave.

"I just knew we'd be visiting a cemetery. I had no idea that-" she stopped herself from over explaining and inhaled a deep breath. The flower was still held out in front of her. Knitting his brows, Jack's trembling hand slowly took the generous gift. She waited for him to place it on the grave, but he stared at it in his own grasp, dumbfounded.

Swallowing the hurt in her throat, Frankie carefully brushed past him and stood at the foot of Veronica's grave, holding the rose between her folded hands. She stood for a moment of respectable silence before kneeling and placing the rose down. Rising up, she glanced at the blonde and gave him complete room. This gave him some encouragement, though he walked off to the side of the grave and crouched right by the headstone.

She watched Jack mumble something she couldn't make out with a somber frown on her face. Finally, he placed the rose down right at the stone piece, and traced his fingers over the engraved words like he was trying to accept what it said.

"I love you, Vera." He whispered. That's the only thing Frankie could make out. Jack rose back up and came to stand at Frankie's side, at the foot of the resting place. He didn't cry or weep. Didn't break down or shout. No, he was long past that stage.

"Thanks for bringing the flowers," he uttered lowly. She looked at him and forced a smile, but his gaze was glued to the ground in front of them.

"Yeah," she whispered back. "Yeah, no problem."

He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, gaining the will to ask the next question.

"Frankie?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you help me write a poem on the rooftop tomorrow night?"

She froze at the question, internally debating with herself on whether or not he was being genuine, but by the grim look slashed across his face, it was clear he'd been dead serious.

"You want me to help you write one?" She reiterated, disbelieving. Jack glances back down at the headstone, slightly unsure of her thought process.

"I know it's dumb and all but you can forget I even asked-"

"-No." She cut him off harshly, and caught her tone, though Jack didn't care. "I mean- no." She corrected herself to be softer. "Of course I'll help you."

Jack quirked the corner of his mouth and nodded in thanks before quickly backtracking on another subject.

"Sorry if it's like- weird," he stammered out, unsure of his wording. "That I brought you here, or whatever."

Frankie cocked her head to the side. "Why would it be weird?"

Jack's stance was graceless. His blue eyes flickered around awkwardly as if the answer should've obvious to her.

"It's like... literally my ex-girlfriend's grave who I just told you about yesterday."

Frankie widened her eyes. She didn't take that prospect out of this at all. She just assumed he trusted her to see this with him. From what she could infer, it must be quite lonely being Jack Merridew around this time, even if it's deserved. He crossed his arms nervously while trying to appear casual.

"I was already planning on coming today, but I wondered if you'd wanna tag along, just 'cause I only come here by myself, and it makes me feel weird, to be quite frank."

The girl nodded as he spoke, as if it would telepathically aid him in getting his words across.

"As of late - the past few days - you're the only person I actually talk to, so-" He cut himself off short, but it was too late, she already caught it.

"Awwww," she drawled teasingly, nudging him in the arm. "I'm glad to know you trust me enough to come with you on this little excursion."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm glad to know you think of this as some dandy bonding time." His words dropped with dry sarcasm. Deep down, that was exactly it. For all he knew, this could be a risk, and he wouldn't be fully sure.

He already told this girl, who he just met, so much about his past. And this? This put him in a vulnerable position, far more vulnerable than what would be in his comfort zone, yet some inkling in the back of his head made him trust her. For some odd reason...

He quickly changes the subject, uncomfortable with the current state.

"You wanna get something to eat?" Jack promptly turned to look at her for the proposition. Frankie gave a preppy bob of the shoulders.

"Sure, why not?"

Jack took one more gaze down at the headstone before they began to make their way out of the cemetery.

"Waffle House sound good to you?" He arched his brow humorously. "It's no five-star diner, which I'm sure you're not used to." He mused teasingly. Frankie smiled softly to herself.

"Waffle House is the place to go at any time of day."

"Greasy ass food and bad coffee it is." Jack answered dryly.

On the ride there, not much talking ensued. It more so consisted of Jack blasting the radio, windows down, not exactly going the speed limit. Frankie found herself gripping the armrest at certain moments. Him being comfortable with her must also mean being okay with driving more 'recklessly'. She used the term loosely, as the only rule he was really breaking was surpassing the speed limit whilst making sharp turns.

She thought through their interaction at the cemetery a bit more. The way he apologized, and suddenly became more guarded when he typically seemed relaxed and casual in her presence. You know, the pseudo-laid back, give-zero-fucks kind of attitude.

He was a tough code to crack. His walls made him hard to read, but today, they crumbled a bit. She pondered his attitude until after reviewing his words once again, it finally hit her, the full meaning. It didn't register when he accidentally insinuated it the first time.

These are meaningful places to Jack. Now she fully understood. He didn't want to be alone today. He'd already been alone for so long, and she had just come into his life. He was so willing to bring someone along to eliminate that loneliness, even if he'd just met her.

How bad had it been? And should she even trust him? How can she be sure that all he has said is true? On the other hand, she understood that she was so foolish to meet up with him late at night, and to trust going in his car so he could take her nearly an hour away to some desolate graveyard. He never even specified where they were going, other than giving her vague details. It should've screamed red flags. They've been seeing each other at poetry club for a good bit, but it's like they truly only met the other day, and they just trusted each other with so much in the past forty-eight hours.

It hit Frankie like a pound of bricks. And for some reason, she was unworried, but she saw the bigger picture of the situation she was in, and she now understood Jack, at least that one extra bit.

When they seated in the janky diner, the two sat across each other. Frankie was overcome with a sudden onset of nervous butterflies while Jack on the other hand lounged back coolly, letting his eyes wonder before landing on her and her straight posture. The lighting was yellowish, and it smelled like waffle batter.

"I haven't been to a Waffle House in a long time," Jack remarked, biting the inside of his cheek. Frankie perked up at him speaking, like she wasn't expecting it.

"Oh- me too," she answered quickly. Jack didn't notice the sudden skiddishness to her.

"I'm hungry, but not starving," Jack said absently, surveying the menu. "You?"

"Uh, same," she answered politely. "I'll probably just order waffles and eggs."

Jack shut the menu. "I'll probably just get an order of hashbrowns and sausage then."

"Well, hold on," Frankie quickly put her hand on the menu. "The All-star meal comes with all those things, so we can just order that, and split the check."

"Settled," Jack answered shortly. Frankie pressed her lips together and glanced down at her lap.

"So, is your mom expecting you to be back at a certain time?" Jack asked breezily. She swayed side to side momentarily in thought.

"I didn't really specify an exact time with her." She admitted. "But as long as I'm not out too late, it should be fine."

Jack nods slowly and begins fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers. One of the waitresses approached, note pad in hand.

"Can I get y'all started on drinks?"

Frankie looked up kindly while Jack looked indifferent.

"Coke, please," she answered. The lady scribbled it down on the paper and looked at Jack, who wasn't really looking at her. When he sensed his turn to speak, he lolled his head lazily and answered.

"Black coffee."

The waitress scribbled it down in slight annoyance before walking off. Frankie flashed him a semi-scrutinizing look.

"What?" Jack shrugged.

"Impolite much?" Frankie batted her eyes. Jack buzzed his lips and waved her off, uncaring. Frankie smirked and tucked her hair behind her ear, but took the moment to study him a moment longer.

"Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like David Bowie?"

"Never say that again."

The waitress came over with a cold cup and mug in hand.

"Coke." She set the cup with condensation leaking on the outside in front of Frankie.

"Black coffee." The mug is placed in front of Jack.

"Thank you." Frankie chimed politely. Jack says nothing, but receives a harsh kick to the leg from under the table, and notices Frankie glaring.

"Thanks." He said flatly to the waitress. She didn't bother regarding him and spoke directly to the blonde girl.

"Are you guys ready to order?"

She glanced at Jack who gave her a quick nod.

"Um- yes, may I just have the All-star meal? And me and him will split that."

The waitress wordlessly copied it down before asking a series of questions.

"You want those eggs over-easy, or scrambled?"

"Um- scrambled, please."

"Bacon or sausage?"

"Sausage."

"Grits or hashbrowns?"

"I would like the hashbrowns."

"That's all?" The waitress' dull eyes glanced up from the notepad.

"Yes, please." Frankie confirmed.

"It'll be a few minutes."

She muttered a small thank you and looked over to Jack, who was already staring at her with a shit-faced smirk.

"Well, aren't you so polite?" He simpered to her.

"Yes," she gave a short head nod. "Would you like some lessons?"

"You're the last person to teach anyone manners," Jack teased back. All good humorous bickering.

"But for real, she seems to be having a bad day." Frankie acknowledged, looking back at the woman who was tending to other guests. Jack looked back at her and flopped back in the booth.

"We'll just tip her well."

Frankie lifted her posture a bit and lowered her chin as she thought of a conversation starter.

"So, Jack," she started. "Is there anything else you can tell me about you?" She was truly interested. "Like, what are you into?"

Jack looked her, a drained expression far back in his eyes before he sighed and sat up.

"If you really wanna get to know each other, why don't we do it the easy, good old fashioned way and play twenty questions?" He was straight forward with the proposition. Frankly swallowed and nodded.

"Deal then," she said. "I'll start. Favorite band or artist?"

Jack thought for a moment. "I'll say Pink Floyd, or Blue Öyster Cult." He threw his hand up. "You?"

"I like Queen," she answered briskly. "Now you ask me something."

"I know how the game works," he waved her off. "Uhh, what's the weirdest dream you've ever had?"

Frankie smiled at the creative question. She sat back, hand on her chin, and reviewed some of her old dreams.

"Oh, I know!" She snapped her fingers.

"So basically, the government fell apart, and we were living in this dystopian world." She leaned forward, talking with her hands to set the scene.

"And I walked into my old elementary school to see a red Toyota truck parked in the gymnasium."

Jack makes a perplexed face, making Frankie giggle.

"Just wait- just wait!" She laughs.

"It gets so much better. So I walked up to it, and my seventh grade science teacher was in a sleeping bag behind the truck, and he suddenly opened his eyes and told me to come with him."

"And he was in a sleeping bag in your elementary school gymnasium because why?" Jack quizzed, repressing a grin at the absurdity.

"Why does anything happen in dreams?" Frankie quizzed back.

"So he like- whisked me away to this battle dome place, where there's a bunch of different people that had all been kidnapped, and we were divided into red and blue teams. My best friend was also there, and we both got on the red team. I guess we had to go out in the world and eliminate people on the opposite team, and of course we got captured like right away." Frankie droned on, waving her hands around. Jack watched her with an ever-growing smirk.

"So when we got captured, we were thrown in this dungeon with this other kid who was sitting on a chair playing video games or something, which was so out of place. And the whole time during this dream, I never actually saw the kid's face, but I subconsciously knew it was a kid from my school that I had a crush on at the time."

She slumped back in the seat and crossed her arms, giggling about how absurd the whole thing was.

"And out of nowhere, he realized that everytime he stomped his foot, another chair would appear, so that's what he did, and the whole room's just filling up with chairs. But then I woke up."

They stewed on that bizarre end note for a second. Jack flashed his eyes.

"Well, that was the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Frankie giggled and motioned to him.

"Well? What's your weirdest dream?"

Jack combed his hair back with his fingers as he stopped to think for a moment, clicking his tongue.

"Well, I once had a dream that I was at Valley Forge, and my dad was there for some reason. We were under lockdown because Freddy Kreuger was bombing the school, but that's really all I can remember."

Frankie broke out into a smile and tilted her head.

"Why Freddy Kreuger?"

Jack picked up his mug. "Like you said," he began curtly. "Why does anything happen in dreams?" He raised the mug before taking a sip of coffee. Frankie nodded in acceptance.

"Fair." She took a sip of coke. "I think it's my turn to ask a question, she sighed.

"What's your favorite movie?"

Jack looked stumped. He sat, thinking for a moment.

"I don't really watch movies like that, give me a second. Go ahead and tell me yours."

"Well, Clueless is a no-brainer." She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I also love The Blue Lagoon..."

Jack smacked his hand down on the table and pointed at her.

"I fucking forgot!" He exclaimed vaguely. She gave him a weird look.

"What?"

"Veronica explained that plot to me! That fucking incest movie, right??"

Her face fell in realization before she dropped her face into her hands and muffled her laughs while Jack continued to ramble on.

"You're weird as shit for that, you know? That's so weird." He took another sip of coffee.

Soon enough, their food came, and they continued the game. Jack was always asking the niche questions - the ones that you wouldn't ever think of while Frankie asked for little facts and simple things. It was a good balance.

They were nearly done eating when they got to the last few, finally. They had so many long answers for Jack's more 'thought-out' questioning.

"Who is your celebrity crush," Frankie raised a sly, over enunciating the last two words.

"Mine is Johnny Depp," she went ahead and answered, placing her hand on her chest. The girl was visibly giddy just by the mention of the man.

"I dunno, I guess I'll say Pheobe Cates," Jack said. "Or maybe Winona Ryder."

Frankie paused to take a bite of food and covered her mouth. "Alright your turn, we have two more questions."

"I guess I'll have to make it a good one, huh?" Jack said, pretending to think hard.

"What's three things on your bucket list?"

"Oooh, I got this one!" Frankie straightened up quickly, and began counting off the three things on her fingers.

"It would have to be; Hot air balloon ride, a swim in a bioluminescent bay, and do a slow dance in the rain with someone- like in the movies."

She looked happy with her responses, all attainable.

"Huh," Jack chuckled.

"Interesting. Well, mine would have to be; Crash a stranger's wedding and object mid-ceremony. I would like to walk into a store wearing the employees' uniform and pretend I work there for a whole day. And I really want to bring a fishing pole to the aquarium to see how people react."

Pride poured from every inch of Jack's face at his answer. Frankie gave a questionable look at each one of them.

"I feel like you've been waiting to say that for a long time."

"Maybe I have." Jack responded ominously. "Alright, you get the last question. Make it worth it."

Frankie finished stacking their plates to leave it in a tidy manner before she could stop to think of something. The waitress then came over, looking drained as she did the last five times she came over for refills and procedural check-ins.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" She asked, facing Frankie.

"Check, please." Jack spoke up. The waitress looked at him in a bit of surprise, but said a quick, "Coming right up."

"Alright, I think I have a good one." Frankie said, placing her hands on the table.

"Shoot," Jack opened his arms, ready for anything.

"What's your philosophy on life?" She asked, pursing her lips in mock excitement. The waitress brought the check over, but they don't pay it any mind. Jack has to think for a moment.

"Just grow up, be an adult, and die." He drummed his hands on the table for dramatic effect. Frankie rolled her eyes.

"Sounds inspired," she shot sarcastically. "But I was going to say, live your own life. Not someone else's."

Jack mimicked her talking to poke fun at the last answer. "Yeah, yeah, sounds boring." He joked, and picked up the bill. Frankie started to pull out her purse to help split the payment, but Jack subtly holds out a hand to stop her.

"I got it."

She looks surprised, but flattered. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Franko." He lifted the corner of his mouth at the nickname, which Frankie definitely noticed.

"Thank you, Jack." She answered civilly. "I can give her the tip, then."

"I got that too."

Frankie opened her mouth to debate, but Jack just made a "mouth closed" motion with his hand. She sat back, and watched him questionably, knowing him better now than she did at the beginning of the day.

The drive back was calm. The windows were down and the sun was just starting to set. Jack miraculously was driving at the speed limit and the music wasn't loud. For once, he felt a bit at peace, and they both enjoyed the solitude of the ride back.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮
𝟴:𝟬𝟳 𝙥𝙢

The warm night was dimly illuminated by the chalky yellow light of the streetlamps, and the faint twinkle of the stars. Their bodies pressed into the cool pavement of the parking garage's rooftop. Three days in a row of them hanging out now, and Jack's father was getting especially hopeful.

Frankie brought along two bottles of coke-- she decided that it would be the new norm. Jack actually drank it more than he did last Friday. "I don't know why I actually decided to do this," he groaned.

Frankie smirked. "It's because you love poetry deep down," she punched his shoulder lightly. He glared at her.

"I know I asked you of all people for help, but don't let it get to your head."

She dropped her expression knowingly. "No offense, Jack, but half the town wants you dead." The girl pointed out rationally. "So keep acting like you still hate me, and you'll only push away the one person that can tolerate you." She looked at him smugly.

"Half the town, you say?" Jack repeats, rubbing his chin in intrigue. "Wow, a few months ago it was the whole town. Guess things are looking up," he exclaimed sarcastically. Frankie snickered and took a sip of soda.

"You know, you're so funny it's insufferable," she jeered back. Jack nodded in mock modesty. The girl looked at him under the blue moonlight. Dewy shadows cast under his eyes, and sculpted his prominent features. He looked very attractive, actually.

"Okay, so are we gonna start writing this, or what?" She broke her line of thought. Jack nodded, staring aimlessly at a blank paper. Frankie pulled up her own paper.

"So you wanted to write about Veronica, is that correct?"

He only nodded and let out a sigh like he was already growing restless. She eyed him and tapped her pencil to the pavement.

"So the point of poetry is to unlock what we're feeling inside and share it in a positive light."

He dropped his face in his hands in annoyance. "You've gotta be kidding me," he groaned. Frankie sighed in exasperation.

"We haven't even started, and you're already complaining!" She critiqued sternly. "Knock down the mental wall and just give this a chance."

He relented. "Okay. Fine."

She started a bulleted list for notes. "Describe what she looked like."

Growing ansty, Jack bounced his knee in instant boredom. "She had brown hair and brown eyes-"

"Eyes!" Frankie exclaimed in revelation, snapping her fingers. He tensed his forehead at her burst of enthusiasm.

"It's easy to write a poem about someone's eyes." She explained herself when she caught the way he was staring, mildly startled. Frankie began to jot down what Jack had said.

"What do you associate her eyes with? And please don't say the most basic superficial one -- chocolate. "

Jack glared at her with his melted iron-hued eyes. "I wasn't going to," he argued. "Coffee."

Frankie scribbles down 'coffee colored eyes.' He eyed how her pencil rapidly whipped out the words, like she was racing against her mind.

"How was your relationship when you first met her?" Frankie quizzed like an interviewer. Jack laughed and rubbed the nape of his neck.

"Ehh, let's just say she wasn't so fond of me at first."

Frankie smiled softly. "Well, I guess that's something me and her have in common," she chuckled as her pencil etched the words down. "Did you guys argue a lot?"

Jack nods, his lips forming a line of contempt. "I pestered her a lot at first." He admitted "She was just... interesting."

"Alright," Frankie muttered to herself as she noted all of Jack's information. The blonde continues as he recalls everything on the plane when they first met.

"Veronica was the only girl on a plane cabin full of military school students..." he explains distantly. "She was going on the college tour, as I explained."

Pursing her lips, Frankie's green eyes flickered up to him. "Two different worlds clashing together..."

Jack can only nod. She grinded her back teeth together as she stared at the writing, sinking knee deep into thought. It was an unintentional habit.

"Out of nowhere one day, I just, like- got protective over her. It was such a random switch from us just messing around to that."

He paused before continuing.

"I didn't treat her the best towards the end," Jack softly confessed. It took him an unnecessary amount of time for him to accept that. Biting her cheek, Frankie took a swig of coke and wrote that down. He almost didn't want her to write it at first.

"What makes you guys so different?" She sniffled, shoving a strand of hair behind her ear. Jack wavered side to side, letting his eyes drift to the sky as he sorted through his mind.

"My eyes are blue, and uh, I could read her really easily," the words crawled out of his strained lips. "I could anger her like nothing, and she would always manage to find some slick way to piss me off."

Clicking her tongue, Frankie placed her pencil down and put the paper in front of them both. Jack looks down at the bulleted notes. Sighing, the girl glances at him.

"Think you can make a poem out of that? Now that you have all this laid out as a visual so you can, I dunno, gather your thoughts."

Not answering, Jack picks it up, holding the page to his face. His eyes danced over the words, over and over. When he finished reading, his eyes swept back through it all over again. Unsure of what to do or say, Frankie shifts and takes a sip of her coke, awkwardly noisy.

"I can try." Jack finally whispers, still staring at it. Her face lit up slightly, trying to contain her excitement for this small milestone. She wanted to stay sensitive. Swallowing hard, Frankie reached out a hand. Jack didn't see her move in time when she held his wrist comfortingly. Looking at her in surprise, their eyes meet.

"You'll see her again," Frankie breathed, blinking back a burn boiling behind her eyes. She didn't know if that was the right thing to say. The words wrapped chains around Jack's already constricted heart. He thought about the way Veronica used to impulsively grab his wrist when something drastic unfolded in front of her. Something he came to miss greatly.

Without giving any response or sign that he heard her, he pulled his wrist away and simply looked back down at the paper.

That was an unreadable action, and she couldn't pick up on what he was thinking. Frankie's hand burned numbly when he pulled away, not used to the comforting contact.

"Whatever you write..." she began slowly. "I am sure she would really love it." An attempt was made. Jack's lips formed a line and he nodded curtly to act like he could effortlessly agree.

"I still don't know what to feel about this," he complained, mostly to himself.

"Sometimes that's how it is," she responded. "There's always a moment where you don't know how to move forward, but once the first idea comes to you, the words don't stop spilling out."

He didn't fully believe her, but who is he to judge? Tired of the coke, he thought about the flavor of coffee. The bitter kick he was addicted to. At least it wasn't drugs, right?

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝙏𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮

Frankie waited patiently in class for Mrs. Dunn to start. For once, she awaited his arrival, somewhat excited to see him. This is a foreign thing, though.

Mrs. Dunn walked in to greet a few people. A bright yellow dress and chunky necklace hanging from her neck. The girl smiled softly at the interesting fashion sense. Mrs. Dunn's eyes fell on her, and a white, toothy beam spread across her face.

"Good evening, Frankie!" She greeted in her usual flamboyant ambience that the girl admired so much. Frankie grinned back and motioned for Mrs. Dunn to come closer excitedly.

"You won't believe this," she said in a hiss, holding her hand to her mouth. The teacher had to bend down slightly to hear her, but was immensely intrigued by Frankie's joyful urgency.

"I hung out with Jack for like- three days straight!" She exclaimed under her breath. Mrs. Dunn flashed her a look, very impressed, taking it as a romantical ordeal. Frankie had already tried to force herself to drop any admired feelings for Jack immediately after she discovered Veronica's role in his life.

"How'd it go?!" Mrs. Dunn asked, her happiness for the teen evident.

Frankie smacked her lips and flopped a hand out. "Literally better than I thought. I think he wrote his first poem."

Mrs. Dunn's smile faltered. Poetry was never up Jack's alley, but she'd give Frankie the benefit of a doubt. Standing up, she pat a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Well, I hope he cares to read it for the class," she smiled warmly and went back off to greeting people. And then Frankie awaited his arrival, her hands patiently folded on the desk in a regal manner which she well kept up.

Five minutes before class starts, still no sign. Frankie wasn't worried. Being late wasn't out if his character.

Then it was three minutes.

Then class started. Okay, she thought. Maybe he'll walk in late. Or-- Or maybe he's busy! He'd tell her if he was gonna be busy, right? Stop over thinking this, Frankie. It's not like you guys are suddenly besties. We drank coca cola together and ranted about how life sucks.

The minutes ticked away on the clock, making it's rounds. Frankie couldn't focus on the lesson without the presence of a certain arrogant blonde sitting in front of her. Everytime she tried, her gaze was pulled to the empty desk. She pursed her lips and clicked her painted nails on the desk in a rhythm.

Many anxious glances to the clock later, only a small portion of the class was left. Did she make him uncomfortable? Over step a boundary? Girl, don't say you've already gone off and scared him away with your overbearing self!

Frankie clicked her tongue and shifted in her seat, oddly incomplete without having someone to tap their shoulder constantly in spite of aggravating them.

I must've made him not wanna come even more than he already did... great. Maybe the roses were a reason for this, or he was suddenly put off after trusting her with so much. Ah, gosh. Jack somehow grew on her. Frankie rubbed her arms and gathered her things when class ended.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Jack didn't go to the poetry class on account that he didn't feel very well, completely unaware of Frankie's ailing contemplation and worry. He did in fact work on his poem, though. The blonde felt his stomach twist with every word being marked down on the paper, like the memories of what happened were fighting back so to not be exposed.

Sitting at his desk in his room, his hands sat flatly on either sides of the paper cradling his poem within the lines. Jack anxiously tapped his fingers as he reread it one too many times, the words now blurred together in a jumbled mess under his eyelids.

The process wrung his brain out like a sopping wet cloth and dropped it back in his skull. He wanted to understand what he wrote. To feel its walls for a light switch rather than beating the meaning out -- he'd get nowhere that way.

It was later in the night. Not super terrible, but he knew it was about ten o'clock. If anything, Jack felt slightly grateful that he felt sick the same day he had class. He wouldn't be encouraged to read it right now. Yes, postponing the idea of reading this poem outloud was more than appealing.

None of the poems he had written satisfied the mental need for displaying true repentance. They were too bland, too choppy, or just straight up bad. None of them had the ability to convey his inner turmoil. With each new one he wrote, he would crinkle it up and toss it. It was starting to become a broken record with how much paper he was wasting until finally, he gave up.

Jack flopped backwards onto the mattress, gripping the papers with such intent as he massaged his temples. His back pressed into the firm indentation of the bed that formed against the weight of his frame.

His mind frilled with rushing ideas that sprouted mushrooms out of his skull, spreading their spores to birth a new tirade of self-destructing thoughts. He barked out a groan of frustration, and at the swing of his arm, the notebook was flung to the wall. He tightened his jaw and plastered his hands over his face. The notebook landed by a pair of feet.

"What are you doing?" The eccentric words slid out breezily. Jack shot up at the voice, feeling as though his heart lodged itself in his throat. His head slowly turned, fearing what he would inevitably see.

There she stood. Tan skin, coffee stained eyes, blue skirt. Completely unscathed.

"Veronica."

"Hey, stranger."

She was in the room, flesh and bone, not some hazy apparition lingering in the corner. She was solidified. He could've reached out to touch her. Jack let out a loud groan of frustration without warning, rubbing his temples to fight the onslaught of headaches coming on. Veronica stood, unfazed at the outburst and watched him judgmentally as he shifted to turn his back to her, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"You're still sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?" She began to saunter over to him, arms folded in a coy manner. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut as she moved behind him.

"Well?" She urged. "Aren't you gonna ask if I'm real?"

Jack laughed bitterly to himself.

"I would, but the most logical reason I'm seeing you right now is because of a result of my psychosis, I doubt you're some angry spirit. You'll disappear any moment now."

A ghost of a smirk pulled at her lips. "I'm impressed," she commended. "Gluing the pages together. Probably the smartest decision you've made all year."

"Fuck off."

She poked out a lower lip mock solemnly and rounded his bed to stand diagonally from him. Jack looked up at her. She stood, with a straight expression and a dignified stance that so casually complied itself to her.

"Man up, and fucking write something." The sly charisma is suddenly dropped. Jack flashed an exhausted look.

"I would correct your tone, but that would basically be me arguing with my own brain."

Jack bit his lip and let a sour chuckle bump out of his chest. "I'm practically talking to a wall."

Veronica calmly lolled her head to the side, staring at him the same way she did on the island.

"You can't write one poem, how do you expect to know what's real and what's fake?"

He looked up at her through heavy eyelids and cracked a close-lipped smile of disdain that could've been half a sneer.

"Leave me alone."

The girl made a faux gasp and placed a hand to her chest in sardonic offense.

"The way you left me alone?" She practically laughed and shook her head. "That would be unfortunate."

Jack straightened up and took a breath to find his bearings, almost laughing out of unfathomable confusion.

"I really don't know what you want from me right now. You're dead."

Veronica dropped her arms and ignored the last response. She instead maneuvered back around the bed to sweep her eyes over the many discarded poems that were torn out of the notebook and strewn across the mattress.

"Ain't that a sad sight," she mumbled distantly to herself. "Why are you still sitting here?"

She returned to criticizing. "Why are you acting like this, when I'm the one who got stabbed in the back?"

"Is that literal or figurative?" He shot rudely.

"You're an idiot, Jack Merridew."

"You're beautiful."

Veronica rolled her eyes and sat down on the bedside next to him. His heart flexed at the way he could feel the mattress sink down with her body weight. It felt so real. He looked her in the eye for the first time finally.

"I would kiss you right now, but-"

"- But you know I'm not real," she finished for him, nodding in understanding. "You can't wait me out this time," she said matter of factly. "You need to actually do something about it."

"I can't get it right."

"Don't make those stupid excuses. Your dad didn't raise you that way."

Jack can only find it in himself to laugh at the absurdity. Veronica twisted around to grab a crumpled piece of paper behind herself. She read it, her eyes scanning down the page.

"I mean- what is this?" She snapped, half insulting. "You can write eighty-five meaningful letters, but not a page of a poem?"

"Glad to hear you still have your attitude."

Veronica stood up off the bed, just glaring daggers at him.

"Stand up." She demanded. He looked up at her, not sure if he understood what he was hearing.

"Excuse me?"

"Stand up, Jack." She repeated firmly and pointed to his desk. "Get your ass in that chair and write."

He stared at her for a moment begrudgingly, but to humor her, he stood up with a deep breath. When he stood, he flashed his eyes at her snarkily. She pointed to the desk again.

"I'm not gonna baby you, Jack." She stated. "I know you work better under pressure, so get the fuck over yourself and do it."

"I've been doing it this whole time." He retaliated. "How about you sit down and do it?"

"That's not my job," she answered in a brittle voice. "Just stop overthinking it. Knock down the mental wall."

Jack grunted and forcefully pulled the chair out, plopping down in it. He took one more glance at her figure before picking up one of the blank papers on the desk and a pen. He touched the tip of the pen to the first line, and paused.

"Go." Veronica demanded in a grating tone. He shut his eyes and sighed deeply.

"I love you, Vera."

"I know."

He turned around to look at her, but she was gone. Completely. He self-berated momentarily for being so foolish, and turned back to the paper. She told him to write, and he would do just that.

He wrote, reread, erased, and would repeat.

But now he couldn't see the errors after his eyes burned holes into them. Everything was mixed together in a swirled up alphabet soup, and he couldn't focus on anything. The agitated tightening in his chest finally snapped when he stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair.

Someone's in the kitchen, he heard them earlier. Jack rolled his eyes about what he was fixing to do. Walking out into the hall, he slowed his pace to see if he could peak around the corner. It was Michelle. In this rare case, that's better than seeing his dad for what he wanted to ask.

She was writing something down on business papers, signing off on contracts likely. He walked to the opposite side of the counter steadily, and cleared his throat, accidentally crinkling his paper.

Michelle looks surprised to see him standing in front of her.

"Jack," she exclaimed, blinking rapidly. "What's wrong?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and stared at his paper.

"Could you read my poem?"

The question caught her wildly off guard, and he seemed to notice. "It's alright if you don't want to, but it's about Vera, and I just thought-"

"- I'd love to read your poem, son."

He resisted the glare that so badly wanted to claw his face, and stiffly handed his poem over to her. The woman held it gently, and began to read.

Jack observed her, scanning for any sliver of a reaction that provided some closure on it's impact and legibility. Michelle furrowed her brows in concentration as she started taking in the words bloomed across the paper. Jack misinterpreted it as a display of distaste.

She surprised herself when her heart twisted at what Jack wrote, and the unfamiliar burn in her eye sprouted when her head lifted up to look at him.

"This is written beautifully, Jack..." she reread it again. He on the other hand could only nod in thanks and hide the relief for validation.

"You should absolutely present this at your next poetry class." She hands it back to him. "Thank you for letting me read this."

Every exchange they had was always strained. They didn't have any sort of relationship that was remotely familial, as much as his father wanted. The two clashed in the wrong ways, and eventually decided to drop the overly polite act.

"Thanks," Jack answered flatly. He made an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. "I'm gonna leave you to your..." he trailed off to eye what she'd been doing.

"... work."

Before he could hurry out, Michelle called him back. "Hold on a minute!"

Jack's blood chilled as he halted. Slowly turning around, he hums in question.

"You should definitely pursue something with writing in your future."

He pretended to care and hurried back to his room, not even thinking about how Frankie might be pondering his whereabouts. She was filled to the brim with worry that she had done something to make him not want to show. Obviously, this wasn't the case at all.

Where she was in her home, the girl stared up at her bedroom ceiling. They didn't plan to hang out again anytime before the next poetry class. She'd have to be plagued with these thoughts until the next class came around.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙏𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮.

"So what makes poetry so encapsulated with someone's feelings?" Mrs. Dunn paced back and forth across the room. It was an unusual occurrence, but Frankie for once didn't jump to answer.

Jennifer answered without raising her hand. "Because that's where poets might start," she explained. "Emotion is the base to build off."

Mrs. Dunn smiled softly. "Good answer, Jennifer. Anyone else who wants to add to that?"

Frankie bit the end of her pen and flickered her green eyes up to the clock. About halfway through class. Maybe I should just accept the score. The empty chair in front of her held the capability to make her strangely dreary.

Carlos raised his hand when no one else did. "The vast emotions they use combine together to create the overall mood."

"And that sets the tone!" The lady agreed enthusiastically, pleased with the way she could see the kids growing their minds after every class.

"Reading poems like this triggers emotion," she waved her hands out in front of her for emphasis. Frankie lolled her head to the side, for once feeling dazed.

"It strengthens our brains by giving us the space to self-reflect on the messages being given to us."

Frankie swallowed her moodiness and raised her hand to regain the usual attentive.

"Mrs. Dunn, I-"

A clicking sound breached the air to cut her off as the door slowly swung open. Heads turned their attention to it in shock, and Frankie immediately straightened up to see Jack enter the room with a paper in his hands.

"Jack!" Asserted the teacher who was mildly staggered to see his random appearance. Despite that, she felt glad to see him in the classroom again.

"We're so glad to have you back," she clasped her hands together and gestured to his empty seat. "We were just talking about how emotions can-"

"- I'm not staying," he interrupted. "I'm just here to read my poem."

If he was gonna do anything with this sad life of his before he died, it'd be this, for Veronica. Frankie's eyes widened, and she melted from the stiff position down to rest her chin on her hand, prepared to soak this all in.

Mrs. Dunn blinked in her frozen place, but was more than willing to let him take the stage.

"Of course, of course!" She insisted, clearing the way for the blonde boy as many classmates were now with confused faces, whispering to each other. Frankie could only look at him sadly. They made eye contact for a split moment, and she sent the faintest of an encouraging smile. He darted his eyes away to scan the classroom.

"Whenever you're ready, dear." Mrs. Dunn whispered. Inhaling deeply, he tried to ignore the feeling that he was being watched under a microscope, and kept the tears at bay when he began to read.

As he did, Frankie felt the venomous burn of tears trace along her waterline when he started reading.

"Eyes of coffee stains, hair of the richest grounds.
Coffee stained eyes staring at me with disdain as we set off to the clouds
Two people from two different worlds; too different for their own good
Through the air conditioned air, you uttered those words of machinery,
'I hate you.'
I earned a rise from your seething anger yet again
A sort of earthiness was set in your gaze that drove me crazy. Too many layers that I could read all too well.
Words of rebuttal zipped a shot of espresso through my veins, making me jittery.
I got a rise out of it as you boiled over.
Your eyes, like two steaming mugs, I barely jumped back when I got burned.
And sometimes, I can see myself in the rippling reflection.
Bitter and tart.
Now I see the coffee stained eyes
Lifeless, staring up into the blue sky of my own eyes, raining in a certain greif.
Death carried you away
And through the blazing air I wept the last words,
'I love you.'
Only this time, I gained no more rise
out of the girl with coffee stained eyes."