( emma ) we're fated to pretend,

[franklin antonio jones]

When Franklin didn't have anything to do, he turned to Emmaline. Actually, even when he did have something to do, he normally turned to her anyways. When he got a job at the resort, his hopes that he'd be able to settle down for more than a few months weren't very high. But when he befriended Emmy, he found it so much... Easier to stick around. Did he have that itch to pick up and move in the middle of the night? Yes, all the time. He sometimes laid awake at night, thinking about where he could possibly go. California, again. Upstate, this time around. Connecticut. South Carolina. North Carolina. Ohio. Canada. London. Madrid. For someone like Frankie, no place was off limits and he knew that. He didn't let his parents know that he had enough cash flow from the resort (and street performing) to keep up a healthy lifestyle but he liked the comfort so their allowances, so to speak, had continued to come in. He had quite a lot of money saved, actually.

And there was something about Emma that made him want to just... Hang back and see what she could do. He didn't want to leave her. He wasn't used to feeling this way; sure, parting from his parents had been tough but he had been fine. He'd never really had a best friend before. The closest friends he ever had were the people he kept in touch with via email after everyone on the shoot went their separate ways. But every time he started to pack a bag, it was like she called him and he forgot all about wanting to leave. So yes- it was safe to say that she was the one person in his life that he always wanted around and he didn't want anything to ruin that.

The extent of his feelings, he wasn't really sure. He knew that she was his best friend. There was no doubt about that. He knew that people often times had trouble dictating their exact feelings and that was the position he was in at the moment. Did he like her as more? Did he love her as more? He couldn't be sure. That was another appeal about sticking around- he could find out.

So on that clear, Friday evening, Frankie found himself making the familiar tread to Emmy's, a wine bottle charmed out of the kitchen in one hand (what? Boy had swag) and a bag containing cake mix and frosting in the other. He'd gotten off of work early that day so he'd had time to go home and make himself look presentable, even if he was just surprise-visiting her for some cake making and wine drinking fun. His jeans were comfortable and he had on a plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone because, hell. It was comfy. He had no need to dress in style.

He arrived and he knocked on the door, casually leaning up against the frame while he waited for her to answer. It was bound to be a fun night.

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