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*
Mornings aren't usually so soft and still for her. The light never draped in grey.
"That could be good. We need to focus on what's on the grocery store list before dinner..."
A hum; a sleep-deepened murmur of—"Oh, I agree."
Mel echoes the hum inquisitively, glancing up, no longer talking to herself.
From nearby, Frank perches onto a closed toilet-seat.
"Looks cozy in there," he remarks quietly with a mug. Instant coffee probably doesn't taste good. Mel didn't know what to buy. That's on her grocery list as well—better and less instant coffee for whenever Frank would come by. If he did. And, well, he has before.
Mel grins bashfully and swipes at her eyeglasses with wet fingertips.
(Getting a... better look at his mouth, kiss-swollen.)
"You got room for one more?"
"No. It doesn't even fit me right," Mel says honestly, rubbing at her bare, bubbled-up shoulder.
Frank's mouth quirks.
"It's all cramped."
He nods, gently setting down her little watermelon mug from Becca.
"I like you, Mel," Frank admits, blue eyes crinkling. "I... thought I should be more direct about that. Besides sleeping together."
Awkwardly aware of her own face flushing, Mel nods back.
"Okay. Cool." He teasingly shields his eyes, pretending to feel for a wall. "Keep soaking in the meantime—is it alright to kiss you before I go and make us some breakfast?" Hopeful, Frank peeks through his fingers with a glimpse of blue, blue, blue.
She mumbles "okay..." and feels her wet-warm skin caressed.
Frank's hands.
On her.
On her upper arms, rubbing the slopes.
He bends in and touches a pair of lips appreciatively against Mel's.
Lips then touch to Mel's forehead.
Mornings were never this grey and still and beautiful. They could do with more of them in the future.
*