Frank has been labeled a lot of things in his life. Outspoken, rash, loud, ungrateful, and a lot of homophobic slurs, just to name a few. So, he wasn’t the most liked person in Belleville, New Jersey. That was fine. He dealt with it.
Despite all, he still had a tightly knit group of friends, and a girlfriend. Score. She was a cheerleader, and half the time, Frank thinks she’s just dating him because of a dare, but he enjoys the entertainment nonetheless.
He grew up in Belleville. Made a (not so great) name for himself. He has a whole life here, people who need him—and yet, despite all, his parents want to uproot everything he knows and ship him off to Los Angeles with his estranged Aunt?
Frank shoved his hands into his pockets as he trudged up to the second floor in the old apartment building he knew his aunt lived in. For only being a block away, it was a miracle Frank had never seen her before. Not even at the grocery store…
He let out a deep sigh as he approached the door. 213. It took a moment before he psyched himself up, and he then knocked three times.
Silence followed briefly.
Then, a loud clatter, the sound of a cat hissing and a woman shouting.
Frank couldn’t help himself, subconsciously pulling his hand out of his pocket and scrubbing it down his face. This was gonna be a long year.
The door swung open. There stood a red haired woman, 5’8-ish. The first thing that Frank noted was her caked on makeup. It looked extremely dry, like she had slept in it for two days straight and not bothered to wash it off. A mess, basically.
He softly cleared his throat, shoving his hand back into his pocket. “Uh, hey. I’m-“
“Frankie!” The woman squealed and reached out, shoving Frank into her chest.
Frank grumbled, coughing as he was suffocated by the intoxicating and pungent smell of her floral perfume. The scent was akin to his grandmother’s couch, in the worst way possible.
Thankfully, he managed to pry her away with ease, stepping back. “…Yeah. Frank.” He muttered, wiping his mouth awkwardly. Not Frankie. Frank.
“I haven’t seen you since you were a baby!” She gushed. “Oh, come in, and don’t mind the mess.” As quickly as she appeared, she vanished behind the slightly ajar door.
Frank pushed it further open and grimaced. Don’t mind it? Jesus. It was hard not to. Frank was dodging old newspapers and various trash that littered the floor as he followed her.
He eventually found her in the small kitchen tucked away in the corner, which was somehow the tidiest place he’d seen so far; however, there was at least three old pizza boxes stacked on the counter and cigarette butts everywhere.