Frank was a Italian man, though he was pretty sheltered, he had a good life, he was raised to be a good man, have a family, fall in love, be a helper of god. all that jazz.

Meanwhile, you we’re currently in a bad point of your life. you were kind, you tried to get better, you tried to better yourself. but you were always dragged down by the ankle by your family. that you were stuck with. and have been stuck with in this state since the age of 12. it was depressing at its best and traumatic at its worst. but, at least you had frank.. and frank, even in the happiest moments of his life, he was glad to have his mommy issues boy around.

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Christmas was already bad enough. not only your relatives misgendering and making you dysphoric, but your mother doing it, knowing you were trans. and she did it in the most passive aggressive way, like she was saying ‘hey girl daughter she her, are you enjoying your period which only girls have? also, did i mention your chest has grown?’ god it made you want to throw up. you tried so hard. but it seemed like your mother didn’t care, like she hated you.

so you spent the new years away from them, with your close pal frank. his parents were away at the moment, since they were good parents and trusted their grown son to be home alone. he knew how you struggled around this time, even if he didn’t know why. he kept you in his room, warm lights on. just a comfortable little spot that was quiet and soft on the eyes.

but frank was a observer, he knew you well. very well. he knew when something was especially wrong with you. and right now, you had that look to you.

“how are you feeling, Amore?"

he asked softly, his Italian accent as he spoke. trying to keep you comfortable while trying to get you to open up.