#frankie moralex x female reader

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 2

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: when Frankie shows up unexpectedly at the reunion dinner, things get uncomfortable and awkward for everyone.

word count: 2.5k

SERIES WARNINGS: former friends who were in love with each other, angst, mutual pining, tension, eventual smut, jealousy, infidelity, wrong choices, kind of arranged marriage too I guess.

A/N: I NO LONGER USE A TAGLIST! If you want to be updated on my works, click “Get notifications” on this blog! Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕

gif: @conveniently-available​ 

series masterlist | AO3

The coarse whisper of your name manages to awaken sentiments in you that you long thought of as dead and buried. You’re staring, too, but that you just cannot help.

It’s been an excruciatingly long and hard decade without that face. Time’s been kind to him, much to your dismay. Once a scrawny teenager, now he’s standing before you as a man: stubbled cheeks, moustache, eyes chocolatey and tired from time’s rough passage. He has the same kindness about him, the same warmth, and it only makes your heart ache more.

This would’ve been infinitely easier had he turned out into some kind of ogre.

But of course he hasn’t. Why would the universe make this any easy for you?

He’s just a person, you remind yourself with unsteady breaths. Just a person. An old acquaintance and nothing more. He means nothing more.

“What—what are you doing here?” he gets the courage to ask, visibly shaken by your presence. “How are you here?”

“Same way I left. Got on a plane. And I’m having dinner with the guys.”

You barely recognize your own voice as you flatly reply to him. It’s the voice of a woman who’s been disappointed and hurt far too many times, squashed of any hope.

Frankie hums, piecing everything together. He inches closer to you, and you pull away from him in an instant. Being too close means more heartache, and you refuse to put yourself through it again.

Be polite, nothing else. Keep him out.

“When did you come back?” he asks.

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I’m back for good.”

He nods, hating how robotic and distant he sounds. Truth is, he is far too shocked to even smile at you or hug you or tell you how much he missed you. How much he’s thought of you over the years.

It hurts to even acknowledge that.

“What are you doing here?” you retort. “Santi said you were busy tonight.”

“Finished earlier, so I thought I’d join in.”

Heads turn back at the table, eyes widened in shock and panicked whispers exchanged.

“Uh oh,” Benny exclaims. “I thought you said he was busy.”

“He was,” Santiago admits, standing up swiftly and practically racing to you and Frankie. “Hey man, you made it!”

The look Frankie gives his best friend is hollow and accusatory, and Santiago knows why, but guilt isn’t on the list of things he’s worried about right now.

“I was… going to the restroom, excuse me,” you say, and make bigger steps to the ladies’ room.

Now alone, Frankie grabs Santiago’s arm as they approach the table. The grip is tight and firm, exuding nothing but sheer anger and betrayal.

“You knew she was back in town and you didn’t bother to tell me?!” Frankie groans.

“We wanted to tell you about it tonight, but when you said you were busy, we figured we didn’t have to yet,” Santiago says, breaking the touch.

“A warning would’ve been fucking nice.”

“Yeah, well, a call or text from you saying you were on your way would’ve been nice too.”

Frankie huffs, sitting down and rubbing his temples. The waiter returns, asking if he wants anything, and he immediately orders a glass of bourbon.

“We’re glad you could make it,” Mia says with a polite smile.

“I’m sure it won’t be that awkward,” Emily fortifies.

“Of course not, why would it be?”

“How about you sit way over there, buddy?” Will intervenes, gently guiding his friend to the end of the table, opposite of where your seat is. And just in time, too; you return from the bathroom, sneaking a single glance at Frankie, then avoiding him altogether.

You order another glass of wine, though that’s probably not the wisest decision given the effect wine has on you, particularly in the presence of someone you were once undeniably attracted to.

“How come you’re back in town?” Frankie asks, voice a little shallow and grave.

“I got a job here.”

“That sounds great.”

There is no follow up after that, and everyone at the table is feeling the tension running high. The only way to cope with it, since communication seems to come uneasy to both you and Frankie, is to drink. Everyone orders a second one, and soon a third one. By the fourth one, Benny takes it upon himself to lighten the mood, in spite of Will’s repeated insistence that he shouldn’t.

“What about my one year anniversary with Emily, huh?” he chuckles, cheeks flushed with the crimson burn of alcohol and love. “Who would’ve thought?”

“None of us did,” Santiago teases.

“Hey! I always wanted to settle down.”

“Benny, sweetheart, I love you, but even I know you were a huge ladies’ man before you met me.”

“It takes a special kind of woman to tame a lion.”

Will shakes his head, amused by his little brother’s antics.

“Oh, and Will and Mia got their half year anniversary coming up!” Benny continues. “Things are lookin’ bright for the Millers.”

Santiago exchanges a glare with Will, sensing where things are headed, and neither likes it.

“Alright, how about we talk about something more exciting?” Will suggests. “How about we hear more about our friend’s new job, huh?”

Will smiles at you, but Benny’s too tipsy to pick up on social cues in his pursuit to make the gang feel comfortable and happy.

“But we haven’t properly celebrated Frankie’s engagement,” he pouts.

The table goes silent as fearful glares are being exchanged. After a while, everyone’s gaze seems fixated solely on you, anticipating your reaction—except For Frankie. He keeps his head down, like a dog that’s been scolded for a mishap. You are fully aware of the fact that you are on a massive display, completely exposed, but you will not give into the moment and renounce your integrity.

Though it remains undeniable that on the inside, you are simply falling apart.

You expected this; you absolutely anticipated such a situation, even something more complicated. But no matter how much you would’ve prepared for any possible scenario, the reality still kicks you in the gut.

You stare blankly, only now gathering sufficient strength to search for Frankie’s face. When you find it, it’s riddled with guilt and sorrow, facts which you cannot fully comprehend. Why does he get to feel guilty? And for what?

“Oh,” you say at long last, your voice hollow. “You’re—engaged.”

You draw in a sharp breath that eventually gets stuck in your chest, and you make a mental note to yourself to sound pleasantly surprised instead of bitter and devastated.

“Yeah. Her name is Andrea. We’re getting married in June.”

You gulp, forcing a wide smile that’s meant to be polite and cordial at best. “Congratulations,” you whisper with the same happy mask on your face.

“Thank you.”

Frankie downs his drink and risks staring at you, but you’re back to ignoring him. He understands, of course; it would be foolish of him to pretend otherwise, no matter how much it would hurt to face the consequences of his actions.

He wishes he could tell you the truth, why he did what he did, but he knows you are far too stubborn and independent to believe him, especially after all that time. When he decided he was done, years ago, he closed every window and door there was to ensure his connection with you was truly severed. Too much time had passed without any form of contact, and it sent only one message: that Frankie did not care.

If only he would open his mouth now and confess that it was a lie, a ruse to help you and make you happy…

“I probably shouldn’t have dropped the news like that,” Benny whispers to Emily.

“You really shouldn’t have, you big blabber mouth.”

“As I recall, you don’t have a problem with my big mouth.”

Emily slaps him over the shoulder, audibly, and looks around the table. The tension is thick, palpable, and it makes everyone present disarmed in front of it.

“How did you two meet?”

All eyes are on you again, probably because nobody was expecting you, of all those present, to initiate a conversation about Frankie’s fiancé. But there you are, looking right at him, as friendly as you could possibly be. Even Frankie is taken aback, but he clears his throat and eventually speaks up.

“Uh, it was like... eight years ago. We met after one of Benny’s first matches, when we went out to eat. She worked there temporarily as a waitress to get through medical school. I asked for a bag of peanuts, she misunderstood, we had a laugh and became friends, and… here we are.”

Frankie realizes he’s oversharing and that you certainly didn’t want to know every little detail of his encounter with his now-fiancé, but it’s too late to stop it now.

“What about you, what are you doing back here?” he asks instead.

“I, uh—I got a job as an editor at a publication here in Boston.”

“That’s great. You always loved to write.”

Stunned, you look up at him, irritably fond of the fact that he remembers your favorite pastime. But you cannot go soft now, not when you have the man who stole your heart right there at the very table, stealing glances at you with big, soft puppy eyes. He needs to know, to understand, just how hurt you still are, how unyielding you are on the decision to remain simply cordial with him.

“Yes,” you reply cynically.

“Guys, I’m sorry I spoiled the news like that,” Benny says apologetically. “It wasn’t my news to begin with.”

“It’s okay, Ben” you smile.

“Yeah, she would’ve found out eventually.”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, you’re pretty good at keeping people in the dark about your intentions. Maybe I would’ve found out when I saw you driving your kids to college.”

Will clears his throat, as if to put an end to the bickering that’s barely beginning to boil between you and Frankie. But the latter only feels worse looking at you, being in such close proximity to you after all that time. He’s perfectly aware that a mere apology won’t cut it, but he has to try now that you have re-entered their lives.

He has to, doesn’t he? Otherwise he would be exactly what you already think he is: a heartless, cruel man.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a lump in your throat, though enunciating your name in a sweet, careful manner. “If I knew you’d be here tonight,” he adds, side-eyeing the guys in an accusing way, “I wouldn’t have come.”

“Then what?” you demand.

The table goes mute once again, no one daring open their mouths now. The thing is, they all realize just how uncomfortable this situation is for both you and Frankie; they also know that this kind of confrontation is long overdue, except—well. Maybe now isn’t the most opportune moment.

But you feel anger boiling underneath your veins, spreading throughout your entire body like a poison that needs to be released immediately, or else you’d die with it in your system, damaged from inside out.

“You wouldn’t have come tonight if you’d known,” you resume. “Okay. What was your plan after you’d find out? Go on with your life as usual, avoid me like the plague?”

Frankie coos your name again, in an almost begging manner. “I would’ve found out that you’re back sooner or later, so—“

“So what? We’d just never speak to each other again? Like we’re just two random strangers?”

“No—“

You search in your purse for your wallet, taking out a few bills to cover your share of dinner. You take a deep breath in, trying your best to keep your composure and not lose all of your sense right then and there with everyone watching you.

“It was nice seeing you guys tonight,” you say with a forced smile. “I really did have a good time. Think I’ll call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” Mia asks you, genuinely concerned. “We were thinking of going to a bar or a club after.”

“I’m sure. If you want to go, please, do. Have fun.”

“I should go, too,” you hear Frankie say.

The two of you stand up at the same time, locking eyes. Your heart instantly goes in your throat, dreading the idea that you might have to actually confront him outside of the restaurant, one on one. You falter, desperately looking around for some sort of help that fails to come.

“How about I take you home?” Santiago proposes, standing up.

You exhale with immense relief. Gratitude for Santiago was never bigger or more welcome than it is right now.

“Thank you,” you say, and you take one last look at Frankie, noticing how wrecked he seems in that moment.

But you still don’t cave in. You can’t.

“Congratulations on your engagement again,” you tell him, flashing another smile.

It’s a hollow one, and Frankie sees right through it. It might’ve been a while since he’s last seen you, but he is very much still capable of deciphering your every little tell, anything that your body language cleverly conceals from the rest of the world except him.

He doesn’t reply. He remains locked in the same position, standing up, and watches you leave with Santiago. He sees his hand on your waist guiding you gently through the restaurant, and then walking right out. His mind spins with endless possibilities that just about tear him into pieces. He’s never felt so tiny, so cruel and horrible.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Benny mutters at him.

“It’s fine. She would’ve found out sooner or later. This way… the bandaid is ripped off. It hurt, and now—“

It still does. So much more than before.

“—it’s done,” he lies.

He vaguely hears Will’s voice in the background, asking him not to leave, but rather to join them at a bar or something, but he doesn’t fully comprehend or listen. He pays for his drink and rushes straight home. His freshly renovated apartment that’s supposed to be part of the new chapter in his life. His and Andrea’s life, together. But right now, in this frozen moment, it all feels like a lie. A big, fat joke he’s been telling himself to make himself sleep better at night.

He’s always known he hurt you and fucked up everything, yet tonight, seeing the look on your face, nearly falling apart with sadness and anger alike, he knows the damage is irreparable. He knows you’ll never forgive him for the way he hurt you.

He won’t forgive himself, either.

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