Beautifully Broken

Pain

Frank

Bert fucking McCracken. She's giving Bert fucking McCracken credit for my flawlessly pulled off prank. The whole band's got a total of two working brain cells and she thinks they could have come up with this? Karmas a real bitch and she sure as hell has it out for me. Slamming the room door, I storm into a scene that only causes my blood to boil more. Gerard and Lindsey lounge across the bed, comic books strewn out around them. They laugh; knocking their shoulders together as they live in their blissful ignorance. I have to remind myself not to explode because really I have no place too. He's not really mine. He was never really mine. Somehow I just tricked myself into thinking that. Somewhere between the kisses and the hand holding and the falling in love and the planning our future together I thought we had something. Suddenly, I know how Ashley feels and I'd be lying if I said it didn't kill me.

And she's still sat at the picnic table, smoking and writing in her notebook when I come stomping back. And really I didn't expect anything else because it's Ashley and underneath all the hate and bullshit we always end up in these kinds of situations. Popping a few pills in between my lips, I tuck the bottle away before slumping down across from her. She looks up at me, blowing a billow of smoke into the night and she nods like she understands even though I know she doesn't. She never could. I'm an asshole to her, a one dimensional life sucker only swirling into existence to disrupt her otherwise happy and peaceful life. And I crave to lean across the table and press my lips to hers but I don't because I know it will cause more trouble than it'll solve. That makes my stomach roll, twisting up into increasingly tighter knots.

Then she breaks the silence and I feel a sigh of contentment leave me as her voice fills the hole that's slowly started growing inside of me. "You came back."

"Yes," because I don't trust myself to say more as the pills start to kick in and my brain starts to quiet.

Ashley closes the notebook, setting it aside, "May I ask why you left?"

I hate how she sounds so formal, so forced. This isn't how it's supposed to be. We're supposed to be Frank and Ashley. We're supposed to be goofing around. We're supposed to be shooting meaningless insults back and forth just to see the color rise to the other's cheeks. At the very least we're supposed to be hating each other. "Didn't want to say something stupid."

"Wow, looks who's growing up."

The smirk lets me know that we're back. But the sadness in her eyes still lingers, no smile ever quite reaching them when I'm around. Maybe that's my curse. Maybe I'm meant to live in this miserable limbo where we're not quite enemies but not quite friends. Suddenly, I feel myself projecting my issues with Gerard off onto Ashley and I hate myself all over again because that's bullshit and childish and I know it, but there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening. I hate myself more as I see she'd let me. There's an understanding and a poise that should never have to sit on a face that pretty. There's knowledge there that a twenty-three year old should never have to bear the burden of. A part of me wants to put the blame fully in my lap but even I'm not that arrogant. I could have never taught her eyes to look so old or for the frown lines around her mouth to know just where to form. That was life. Perhaps life, those experiences we've come out on the other end of, make us more alike than we'd like to admit.

"Frank." She says my name like she's hiding some earth-shattering secret. "Maybe it's for the better because if we're being honest it's always been toxic. It's always been one of you giving too much and the other not remembering. It's always been hidden affection and lusty glances. It's always been for the cameras and for the media. And he's still the best guy but maybe together it just doesn't work."

In that moment I'm certain she knows more than I do. She's had the conversations with Gerard. When she asked me why Lindsey was coming she already knew. She just wanted to know if I did. Like normal I wasn't told. I'm just meant to figure it out, to use the context clues. I don't want her words to be true. I want to lash out and tell her she knows nothing but it's a big fat lie and I'm so damn tired of those. I can see in the way her shoulders hunch forward and in the way the smoke comes out in little puffs that she doesn't want this to be her burden. I can also see that she's certain she's the only one who can really hold it. She's been told too much, let into a circle full of secrets and fuck-ups and now she can't get out. That one I can take responsibility for. This is one circle I led her right into the middle of.

"Maybe it's all for a reason. Maybe you and I are sat here in the middle of fucking nowhere Florida for a reason. Maybe it's time to stop fighting the inevitable and just accept the truth."

I regret the words the instant her face twists up into a look of utter disgust. Her nose crinkles, eyes narrowed to the point of slits. She hobbles up, clutching to her crutches as if they're the only things still tethering her to reality. I need to learn to keep my fucking mouth shut. I need to quit this stupid pill dependency because it's only going to dig the hole I'm already in deeper. They're only going to keep making me say stupid things.

"No, Frank," she continues to look at me with that repulsed look. "It doesn't work like that. I'm not going to just forget everything because you're being nice. I won't just be a pawn in your fucked up version of reality. You wanna know why?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow, "You're going to tell me regardless."

"Yes! I am! I won't be a pawn because after this we have to go back to the real world. Because after leaving behind the fog of tour we have to deal with the consequences of our actions. I refuse to let you use me as an excuse for your bad decisions. I can't just be there when you need a distraction. I can't do it again." Her body goes limp, the fire in her eyes extinguishing just as quickly as it lit. Her gaze tears away from mine, trained on the little puddle of water by her feet, "It hurts too much."

"Ashley I – "

But she's hobbling away, my sad attempts at saving the situation falling on deaf ears. And it only hurts more as she falls into the arms of Bert who always seems to be waiting in the wings for me to fuck up again, which I always seem to do. Nothing comes out the way I intend it to. Nothing I say could ever fix the hurt and the mistrust and the anger. I pop a few more pills because hey, they can't fuck me up anymore than I already am and truthfully feeling nothing is so much better than having to feel all of this.

The days go by in a blur as I move from bus, to stage, to hotel room. I feel nothing, not even his body laid up against mine, or his lips working against my own. I know I should be cherishing these little moments when he's still mine and I'm still his, but they just leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Much like not brushing your teeth for a few days or the sticky feeling that settles in after a night of too much booze. I know they won't last and in a few hours the sun will come up and he'll go back to giving me the cold shoulder as he falls further into Lindsey and further away from me. That hurts the most because I know how incredibly beautiful we can be together. I have all the memories playing out before me, but I'm not the main character anymore. I'm not the one he giggles with or sits up late at night to have conversations with. Wracking my brain for the breaking point just doesn't seem to help because I always come up blank. That blankness allows Ashley's words to seep in and I don't want to believe the cracks have been there from the very beginning because that hurts worst of all.

As I fade away he grows brighter. Most days I forget, drowning myself in pills and just enough alcohol to keep the dreams at bay. Slowly, I begin to think that this tour is the highway to my downfall and perhaps I'm okay with that. Perhaps I sound like a whiny teenager with too many emotions and too little interest in keeping them in check. As I continue to observe Lindsey and Gerard growing closer, I realize that Ashley was right. I hate it, but it's the truth and honestly I could use a little more of that. The cracks between Gerard and I have always been there. We were very good at avoiding them, happy to live in our blissful ignorance. But I can't do that anymore. I can't keep lying to myself. That's another thing Ashley had right. It just hurts too much.