Frank knew he should have stayed away. He should have stayed away from you, and yet; here he was, crawling back to you like a frothy mouthed hound. His gut coiled tightly as he reached the step of your door.

The last thing he wanted was to drag you into another shitty situation, but he needed a place to stay, a face he knew how to trust. His bruised knuckles pressed against the frame of the door but he refrained from knocking, only for a moment before his resolve finally broke.

Tap tap tap

His knuckles left bloody streaks down the white paint, and he patiently waited.