Beautifully Broken

World Destroyer

Frank

I move in a fog, days and nights mixing together. Coffee and a few pills for breakfast, pills for lunch, and enough booze to knock me out for the night. I'm falling, the dark pit swallowing me, no discernable bottom in sight. My hands shake, fingers aching as they press into the cold metal strings. The little orange bottles littering my bunk become my own personal hell. Their nails have sunk into my skin, digging into that part of me it knows is weakest. I fight off the shakes; the itching that never goes away. A shred of normalcy is all I'm holding onto and the strings are fraying at an alarming rate. I cling to Gerard, the two of us moving as one. He becomes my shining light at the end of the tunnel. I pour every ounce of consciousness into making things between us perfect. Amongst the fog, something must be working. He's becoming more confident in us, showing affection at every chance he gets.

Stumbling off the bus, I dig my cigarettes out of my pocket, pulling my hood up against the steady drizzle. Huddled under an umbrella are Gerard and Ashley, a thin veil of smoke hanging around them. Guess my smoke break will have to wait until she's done with hers. So far we've both been sticking to the dumbass rule she created. As I go to walk back up the bus steps, Gerard calls out my name.

"Don't stand out in the rain. Come stand with us." Gerard slings his arm over my shoulders as I grow closer, holding me tightly to his side. Ashley looks through me, dropping the butt of her cigarette to the muddy ground, immediately lighting another. "Ash and I were just talking about a schedule for the recording booth in the bus. She got herself into a little predicament."

Ashley rolls her eyes, blowing smoke out through her nose, "Little is an understatement."

"What's going on, Gerard?"

"Ashley announced an album to be recorded on this tour. I guess we're the only band with the stuff she needs to make that happen. She'll be using the recording stuff on our bus in the mornings while we're rehearsing," Gerard grins over at Ashley like this is the best announcement he's ever made. She forces a smile, cigarette clenched between her teeth.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. Now, not only am I supposed to evacuate any area Ashley is in, but I also have to abandon my own bus so she can record? What kind of sick twisted karma is this? Don't be upset with Gerard. He was just trying to help. Pretend like everything is fine. Why would I care about this? Ashley and I are supposed to be on good terms. Some more faking it can't hurt. God, I'm so screwed. At least the shows have been going off without a hitch because the rest of this tour is a disaster. "Well if she was planning on recording why doesn't her band have the equipment?"

"It wasn't planned," Ashley grumbles, picking at the mud with the toe of her shoe, the white rubber quickly stained a reddish-brown.

I hold back a snicker. Ashley's impulsiveness has gotten her into trouble yet again. I guess some leopards never can change their spots. I wonder how much I can pry before her wicked tongue comes out to play. While I wish it did, Gerard being here doesn't create a safety net between us. Ashley will push back against any snide comments I decide to make. I have to tread lightly. Gerard is Ashley's friend. He'll come to her defense, having no issue with calling me out for being a prick, "What happened?" Safe enough.

Surprisingly enough, Ashley seems to be playing along, happy almost, to put on a mask of civility, "An interviewer got mouthy. I got mouthy back.

Mouthy? All the interviews from tour will be up on the official page. My curiosity now peaked, I itch to go look at what happened. While impulsive, Ashley typically isn't one to lose her temper over badly worded or off-topic questions. She's usually one to enjoy the quirky interviews that have almost nothing to do with the actual project she's working on. Those interviews make her feel more comfortable. There's no pressure to sell anything or say the right thing. Something big must've happened to set her off enough to announce an album. Either way it puts us both is the shittiest situation.

"I'm going to get more coffee," Gerard announces, handing the umbrella over to Ashley before wandering over to one of the big white tents set up for refreshments.

Ashley stares at me for a few seconds, chewing at the cigarette filter between her teeth, "My rule still applies."

"You aren't going to force me off my own bus. That's ridiculous." She's officially lost it. A girl I used to think was reasonable, willing to work through issues like an adult, is now acting like a drama queen. I won't be forced off my bus because she decided to lose her temper in an interview. This is her emergency, not mine. I've been accommodating, stepping on eggshells around her for weeks now. I'm not going to break my own back to appease her anymore.

"No Frank, what you did was ridiculous. This is being professional."

I let out a scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. Professional? No fucking way. Professional would be us, able to occupy the same space for longer than five seconds without going for each other's throats. Professional would be Ashley not giving me icy glares anytime I so much as pass her in the venue. Professional would have not been losing her cool and putting herself in this hole in the first place. "Don't give me that shit, Ashley. Nothing about what you're doing is professional. You're acting like a spoiled child. I'm not sure what kind of crap-ass attitude your bandmates allow you to have, but I'm not putting up with it. You won't force me out of my bus."

"And here I thought your parents taught you how to share your toys."

"What you're proposing isn't sharing."

Ashley gives me a shrug, continuing to coat the toe of her shoe with mud, "Your boyfriend already agreed to it. If you have an issue with it go talk to him."

Since when did Ashley know about Gerard and me? I mean sure, we're not always discrete, but it's not been announced. Nothing we do screams dating. There's an excuse for everything we've ever done, some way to deflect the dating rumors. Gerard has meticulously worked to make sure that is the case. "Who told you?"

"You did, just now with your reaction," Ashley wears a smug smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes. A nervous itch settles in. I don't know her anymore. I don't trust her to not use this against me. "Besides, it's not hard to deduce. There was no one else in your life when you –" She pauses, gaze sinking, teeth working viciously against her bottom lip. "– That person you had to take a chance on, it was Gerard. I'm so glad it all worked out."

"Don't do that," I take a step back, hating the way she looks like a snake about to strike. Hating her for reading me so easily. Hating the power she now holds. Hating myself for being so damn obvious.

"I'm not doing anything. And for what it's worth, I'm not going to tell anyone," Ashley turns to leave, stopping to look at me over her shoulder. "I'm starting to record next week. Same rules."

Storming back onto the bus, I rip the laptop lid open, fingers flying over the keyboard. Stormy blue eyes stare back at me from the webpage, the video title putting the album announcement out for everyone to see. The questions start off innocently enough. Ashley's drummer shoves his hand into the interviewer's pockets as the rest snicker. Their chaotic energy makes them personable, allowing fans to feel as if the band is relatable, just weird and dorky like everyone listening. My name sounds like a curse coming over the speakers. Ashley drops the microphone, her eyes going dead. In them I see every dumb mistake I ever made. I see me walking out on her, half admitting the secret relationship I'd started. I see her begging me to stay. I see me telling her there was nothing left. I see every sleepless night and every harsh word that ever spilled past my lips.

Despite the eruption at the end, Ashley handled herself. The comments depict her as a diva, unwilling to play along with innocent questions. No one understands why she isn't able to talk about things that happened years ago. There's rampant speculation, new theories on what happened between the two of us. I was young and stupid and scared and I destroyed something beautiful. The hurt in Ashley's eyes, the tears turning them glassy, is like a dagger to the heart. Things could have been so different. I didn't have to destroy her. I don't have to keep destroying her. Sure, she's acting like a brat but she's responding to my actions. She's protecting herself in the only way she knows how. Gerard was right. This tour is an opportunity. I have to fix things. Not just for Ashley. For myself.