After by Pearl-o
Franny is still asleep. Her face is slightly flushed, a light pink on her cheeks, and her hair is mussed and sticking up every which way. She sleeps curled up tightly, into a surprising small space - she seems bigger when she's awake.
Thomas is sitting in the chair by Franny's desk in his boxers. He woke up about twenty minutes ago, but since climbing out of bed he hasn't done anything except sit here, watching her and thinking.
Franny yawns as she wakes, stretching her arms over her head. Her face is turned toward Thomas when she opens her eyes, and she smiles as she sees him.
"Hi."
"Hey there," Franny responds, her smile deepening. She sits up, pushing the covers aside and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She's wearing Thomas's old Met Sharks t-shirt; it only comes down to the top of her thighs. "How're you feeling? Weird?"
"No," Thomas says, and then after a second, "Yeah. But good."
Franny laughs and stands up. When she stretches again, the t-shirt rises, and Thomas reaches out to touch her. She leans into his hand, and takes a step closer, next to the chair. He puts his arms around her waist as she looks down at him and brushes his hair off his forehead.
"You know, I was afraid we were going to do this," Franny says, "and afterwards you were going to wish we'd waited, or think that you hadn't been ready. Or not ready with me."
Thomas's head rests against her stomach. He's silent for a moment, and then he starts talking slowly. "The other day, I was in the middle of Czech class, and I looked up and the professor was in the middle of some weird story about the time he got lost in downtown Prague. And I realized I hadn't heard what anybody'd said in five minutes. I'd been thinking how I was going to walk over to your dorm after class, maybe pick one of the flowers in front of the student union for you on the way over. About how I couldn't believe that thought wouldn't even have existed for me a month ago."
Franny makes a small noise, still twirling Thomas's hair in her fingers.
"Sometimes I want to stop and just ... write you letters," Thomas finishes.
Franny leans over to kiss him for a long moment, then disentangles herself from him gently. "Come on," she says, as she picks her skirt up from the floor and slides it on. "Let's go out. I'm hungry. We can get ice cream sundaes." She runs her fingers through her messy hair. "Plus, I need a cigarette."
Thomas's jeans and sweater are in a pile by the closet of Franny's gone-home roommate, and he puts them on. When he's dressed again, he looks up and sees that Franny's been watching him.
He takes her hand in his when they head out.
Ethan notices them before they notice him. He hoots loudly from the other side of the diner just as they're about to slip into a booth.
Thomas turns to Franny questioningly, and she gives him a 'why not?' shrug.
Ethan and his friend -- Clark, Thomas remembers; they met at the art thing -- are sitting across from each other. Thomas keeps his hold on Franny's hand over the table as he slides in next to Ethan, and she sits next to Clark.
"Don't you two look decadent tonight," Ethan says. He raises his eyebrows meaningfully at Clark, who ignores him.
"We felt like ice cream," Thomas says.
"What have you guys been up to?" Franny says to Clark. She likes him, Thomas thinks, and not just for his good bone structure. He seems like a likeable guy.
"Ethan's still on his big effort to make me 'experience Metropolis,'" Clark says, looking slightly amused. "I think I scarred him when I described downtown Smallville for him."
"Hey, you can't tell me you were really *living* there," says Ethan. "That was, like, your cocooning era."
"Apparently, I'm a butterfly now," Clark tells Franny, and she laughs.
"You're helping him learn how to use his wings?" Thomas asks.
"Exactly!" Ethan says, pointing at him. "See, Clark? *Somebody* understands."
"We went to the Olympia, to see the late late late night New Wave movie. But Ethan got bored after the first half hour, so we came here."
Ethan shakes his head, but Thomas can't hear whatever he mutters.
"Did he realize it was going to be in French?" Franny asks.
"You know, I'm not sure," Clark says thoughtfully.
Ethan grumbles some more, and this time Thomas can make words like "bastard" and "unappreciative." He kicks Ethan gently under the table, and Ethan looks at him and rolls his eyes.
Franny and Clark are still talking on the other side on the booth, Franny making gestures with her free hand and shaking her hair over her shoulder. Thomas squeezes her hand, and she looks back over to him and smiles and squeezes back.
Dear Franny, Thomas thinks to himself, it's four am, and you're sitting across me in the diner. I'm writing you a love letter.
05/04/03