2. If I Loved Myself I'd Be Shooting You

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* DISCLAIMER: Contains explicit language, drug use, violent references, sexual content.


"Everything I see reminds me of her.. God I wish I didn't care anymore.. The more I touch, the less I feel.. I'm lying to myself that it's not real.. Why is everybody making such a big fucking deal? I'm never gonna care anymore..!"

Corey screamed in the microphone as loud as he could. Fans were yelling and cheering that this was the best Knot show they had ever been to. The band seemed more alive than ever - they were all so full of emotion and they played like never before. What the fans didn't know was the reason behind that.

◊◊◊

By now, it had been almost two years since Frankie last had a proper conversation with Corey. Even though he left her she had to go on tours with them because she lost her house and had no money with nowhere to go. Frankie lost her only source of income when she unwound. When Corey left her she completely fell apart and didn't even care to try and stop it. No matter how often Joey and Shawn were around, as well as any of the other guys, she just couldn't get better.

Shawn didn't give her a choice in the matter. "You're my sister. I don't give a shit who the singer of this band is to you. You're coming on this tour so I know you're safe," That ended their conversation. Frankie knew not to argue with Shawn when he was really serious about something; so here they were.

Earlier that morning before their show Frankie sat at the small table on the tour bus, sketching into her notebook. She was always either drawing or scribbling thoughts from her head. It was the only thing that kept her from going completely insane. Feeling her back getting stiff and her mind shutting down, Frankie stood to go fix another cup of coffee from the front of the bus.

Frankie got back to the table and saw Corey standing there, reading her notebook. He looked concerned when he looked up from the page. She immediately felt a panic attack coming on. She couldn't explain why – just seeing him standing there with her personal belongings made her lose it.

Frankie said nothing, snatching the book from him and running toward her bunk. She didn't make it all the way past him before she felt a tug on her arm. "What do you want, Taylor?" She asked, almost too quiet to hear. She was just trying to calm herself and breathe.

"Is that about- me?" He retorted, just as softly as she had.

"You don't have the right to ask me who I write about." Was her response, as she again snatched away from him and crawled into her bunk where she clutched the notebook tightly to her chest, sobbing and unable to calm back down now. All of the memories of the day he'd left her raced through her mind.

When Frankie was younger she had panic attacks often but she was able to calm herself down unless it was severe. Only two people could ever bring her back down when she had the more serious panic attacks. The main one was yours truly, the man who himself, was letting tears scale down his face where she'd left him standing moments earlier.

Corey regained his composure after a few minutes and began making his way to her bunk. "Frankie, I'm sorry for asking like that. I just-" He cut his statement short when he realized what was going on. "Shit," He immediately jumped onto her bunk, pulling her into his lap and stroking her hair softly, whispering into her ear to breathe and that she would be okay soon.

Frankie resisted at first but finally gave in as she was unable to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of her chest exploding. After about ten minutes, she was calm again. At least for a moment. "Thanks Corey. Now you can go back to your life," She said with a bitter tone.

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