Chapter Text
Frank doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, long enough for his face to go numb from the cold and for his back pain to progress from occasional jolts into a steady current of jabbing pain. He inhales the icy air and trembles.
Today was a shitshow.
He fought with Robby in the morning. And judging by the look Jack sent him during handoff, they definitely talked about it, forming a united front against him.
This weekend was their anniversary, all three of them. It was also the day of Frank’s NA meeting. All he did was suggest that maybe he could skip this one. Just to have a day for them. For himself.
“Best thing you can do for yourself is go to the fucking meeting,” Robby snapped, always edgy whenever Frank mentioned the meetings.
“Can you stop acting like this is what my sobriety hangs on? Like I’ll relapse any moment—”
“Won’t you?” Robby asked sharply as he stared at him.
Frank couldn’t believe Robby would say such a thing.
He still can’t believe it, and it’s been a whole day of replaying it in his mind.
Mid-shift, he got an overdose patient too. Frank could feel Robby staring at him, so he didn’t want give him the satisfaction of freezing or crying.
He did his best. Fuck. He really did. He did everything he could. But his everything was never enough. So of course he froze mid-treatment, and Robby had to take over.
Even thinking about it now makes him want to cry. He chokes a sob, forcing it down into a whimper.
Because Robby was right.
The second he left the room, all he could think about was how good he’d feel if he had benzos. Just a bit. Just enough for this fucking whirlwind in his head to end. And it scared him.
He didn’t say a word to Jack during handoff at the end of the shift. He straight up ignored Abbot’s greeting, gave his patients to Ellis, and then left without a word to Robby either.
Technically, Robby has no business knowing where he is, but of course he does. The man has a sixth sense for everything.
Robby stops beside the bench, close enough that their knees brush. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, hands tucked into his pockets, breath fogging the air the same way Frank’s does. It’s a quiet presence, unintrusive, like he’s giving Frank the choice to acknowledge him, or say nothing.
Frank exhales, long and tired, and finally looks up. That makes Robby speak up.
“I thought maybe you went to take the bus,” He says softly, clearly trying his best to keep his tone neutral.
Frank shrugs, a small, defensive motion. “I will.”
Robby hums, unconvinced, and then sits down next to him. The bench creaks under the added weight. Robby’s knee presses lightly against Frank’s thigh, solid and grounding. He smells like soap and antiseptic. There’s a faint trace of Jack stubbornly clings to him too. It makes Frank remember just how rudely he dodge the man.
“Jack was worried,” Robby adds quietly. “He asked about you.”
That lands harder than Frank expects. His jaw tightens, throat closing around something sharp.
“I didn’t mean to make it a big deal,” Frank mutters.
“I know,” Robby says quietly. He turns just enough to look at Frank properly. “You just meant to run off to punish yourself.”
Frank huffs a weak, humorless laugh.
Robby’s shoulder nudges his, gentle but firm. “You had a bad case. It triggered you. That happens.”
Frank’s fingers curl tighter in his pockets again. He nods once, eyes fixed on the ground between his boots.
“I thought about—” He can’t really say it. He forces himself to anyway. “About benzos.”
“You mean you had cravings?” Robby asks, all quiet and careful, so unlike him.
“Yes? No? I’m not even sure. I was mostly thinking about how it made everything easier to handle.”
Robby doesn’t say anything.
The silence stretches.. When Robby finally speaks, his voice is lower, and somewhat steadier.
“But you stayed sober,” he says. “You knew benzos would make you feel good, and you didn’t take any. That takes discipline. Takes courage.”
Frank swallows. The knot in his chest shifts, loosens just enough to hurt in a different way. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to bring this home.”
“For now, you just have to come home,” Robby whispers. “And see where it goes from there. I’ll be there with you, and so will Jack.”
Frank sighs shakily.
“I should text him, let him know I’m fine,” he says.
Robby nods, wrapping an arm around Frank and kissing the top of his head.
“Only if you want to. You know Jack. He doesn’t hold grudges. He just worries about you. We both do.”
“I’m sorry,” Frank repeats, and Robby tugs him in just a tad harder.
“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly.
Frank takes a shaky breath and looks into Robby’s eyes. He hates to see the worry there.
“I thought about it, and you’re right. I shouldn’t skip the NA meeting.”
Robby offers him a tight, compassionate smile.
“It’s just an hour, Frank. Plus driving. The whole rest of the day is yours. I swear. We’ll do whatever you want.”
“It’s our day, not my day,” Frank laughs quietly, feeling better for the first time since morning.
“Debatable,” Robby chuckles, and Frank frowns.
“What do you mean?”
“We have the wedding anniversary. This is a Frank anniversary,” Robby says, chuckling.
Langdon rolls his eyes fondly.
“Then I expect us to get pizza from the place that I like for once.”
Robby groans like it’s a Herculean task.
“Just not—”
“Yes, the extra crust with cheese one,” Frank grins at him, Robby tugging him closer, chuckling into his hair.
“Whatever you want,” Robby promises, planting another kiss, this time to Langdon’s temple.
Frank watches the snowflakes slowly falling, shining in the orange-hue light of the old street lamps scattered across the park. He observes them as they drift in the wind, only to fall down and join the already greyed and slushier snow.
“Let’s go home,” Robby finally breaks the silence. “I’m tired, and my old knees can’t take the cold.”
Frank snorts, then remembers how badly his own back is hurting. He smiles at the prospect of just lounging on the couch, a hot water bottle on his back, Robby reading as they snuggle up in bed.
Yeah.
Home sounds good.