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Frankie loves trinkets more than anything in the world – glittering, shimmering things. Knick-knacks and novelties. She pieces them together with glue and hopes, adorning her locker and desk and bedside table with anything that catches her eye.
Jackson knows this, yet the hardest thing he’s ever done isn’t moving from his childhood home or standing up to a bully. It’s buying a Valentine's Day gift for his girlfriend. Not because he doesn’t know what she likes, but because Frankie loves everything equally. And that sucks the grandeur out of most things. What’s the use in giving the world’s most wonderful gift to someone if they would’ve been just as happy with a sack of dirt?
The first thing the human boy does is pull at his hair, hands buzzing with nerves. Frankie deserves better than best, she deserves the world. But he isn’t yet equipped with the power to bring down the moon for her, so Jackson will have to improvise. A flashy necklace or twinkling earrings just won’t cut it.
The second thing Jackson realised was that Frankie wasn’t impressed by the cost of things, and while that mellowed out his worries somewhat, it didn’t make his task any easier. This was a gift that would have to come straight from his heart, pulled out from his ribcage. And that was difficult.
But as the brunette sits by his desk in his room, head in his hands, his gaze flickers over two things – his sketchbook and the framed family picture that hangs above his computer. The third thing Jackson recognises is that the second thing Frankie loves with all of her heart is scrapbooking, arts and crafts.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Frankie,” comes a meek voice on monday morning at Monster High that’s just barely audible through Frankie’s iron grip hug on Jackson.
When she releases her hold on him, his glasses are knocked askew and his hair is ruffled and he has the biggest grin on his face that could possibly be possible for his face to muster. Frankie smiles with glee, almost squealing from happiness.
“Oh, Happy Valentine’s Day, Jackson!”
He reaches into the back of his bookbag, pulling out a wrapped present with a pink bow and a heart pattern. Jackson is glad none of their friends are currently in the hallway with them, he doesn’t think he could dare to do this with an audience. His cheeks are a deep shade of pink as he shakily gives Frankie her little gift.
Her face contorts into shock and then curiosity as she opens the present carefully, holding a little framed picture between her rough green-skinned hands. She turns and twists it, looking at the way the shiny, glittering picture frame sparkled in the ceiling lights, her eyes lighting up in joy. And when she turns to look at the picture in the frame she can barely contain herself.
A hand drawn picture of her and Jackson sits in there. Frankie has always told him how talented he is, how he shouldn’t be embarrassed to show his more creative skills more – to which Jackson has always waved it off and said he’s the left brain out of him and Holt. Frankie knew that wasn’t true, and this was as good a proof as any.
Her lashes flutter as she finally looks back at her boyfriend, the silence becoming encompassing. Jackson is tugging at his sleeves and chewing on his fingernails, a clear furrow in his brows behind the thick black glasses. She can tell this wasn’t easy for him to think of, to make, or to muster up the courage to actually give to her. He’s skittish enough to hide under a table at any loud noise. He didn’t talk to a girl his age until he turned 12. He must be scared out of his mind right now, Frankie chuckles, and that’s why she loves him so much.
Jackson is about to say something, or to throw up, he isn’t really sure anymore, anxiety convincing him that she hates it and that it was a stupid idea and that he’s so, so totally lame. But in the blink of an eye he’s suddenly not standing on two feet anymore, he’s lifted into the air with the force of ten people picking him up at once. A yelp ripples through his body before he laughs in sync with Frankie who eventually lets him down again.
“I love it! I love it, Jackson!” Frankie squeals brightly, kissing him on the cheek before he can even start sputtering. “It’s so clever!”
Another kiss to his forehead. Then another to his other cheek.
“How did you make the frame? How long did it take? Oh, the drawing is so cute! You’re so cool!”
Two, three, four more pecks to his face, Frankie barely catching her breath. She doesn’t need to breathe, so the predicament isn’t urgent, but Jackson is struggling to keep up with her rambling between being kissed over and over and smiling until his face aches.
Finally, she relents, planting one more kiss on his lips before pulling away. She smiles with all her teeth on display, a childish, unfiltered joy humming in her entire being. She looks at her work, giggling at Jackson’s face and his crimson blush and red lipstick marks covering every inch of it. He looks just about ready to sink into the floor.
Spindly hands slowly reach up to cover his cheeks as the human boy looks down to the floor, trying to ignore amused glances coming their way.
“I’m glad you liked the gift.”
He pretends to forget to wash the lipstick off his face until lunch. He lets Frankie linger on him for just a little while longer. The fourth thing Jackson learns is that Frankie’s lipstick is waterproof.