Beautifully Broken

Come On Over

Ashley

Frank hovers in front of the bus door. His fingers curl around the knob only to be quickly pulled away as if to touch the door physically pains him. He bounces from foot to foot, chewing on the filter of his cigarette. While he's tried to put it off, Frank can't stay away from his band forever. He's got to face what lies behind the door. They've got a show to play tonight. Not talking beforehand isn't an option.

"What am I supposed to say to him?"

"I can't tell you that."

I try and fight back the little pangs of sadness I feel for Frank right now. Gerard ended their relationship in the most permanent way. Frank is confused and hurting. I watched as the brave face he painted on began to chip. The longer the day drug on, the further Frank curled into himself. Finally, I made the decision for him, not able to look across the table at the shell of a man. With no more false words of encouragement left, I drug him back to his own bus. The tension and anxiety will only build if he doesn't face this. Not to mention the longer he's around me, the further I fall into his world. I'm not ready for that yet. I need more time. I need to figure things out. Having Frank there, joking and talking like old times, makes me want to forget. Forgetting is how I get hurt. For now, I need to keep that door locked, or at least the screen door of that door locked.

"I can't do this," Frank shakes his head, beginning to back away from the bus door.

Grabbing a handful of his jacket, I tug him back, "You can, you just don't want to. They're different. The longer you put it off the worse it's gonna be. So, put on your big boy pants and get on the fucking bus."

"You're being very bossy," Frank pouts back, stalling for time.

Rolling my eyes, I give him a shove toward the door, "You'll thank me one day."

Frank's fingers once again curl around the handle, his hand remaining there as he looks back to me over his shoulder. His eyes are cloudy, arms twitching, "If this goes badly, I can come to your bus?"

Letting out a sigh, I shake my head, giving Frank a smile, "You need to get other friends."

"Is that a yes?"

Beginning to walk away, I give him a thumbs up over my head. If I don't leave he'll stand there forever.

Whatever happened, it must've not been great. Frank spills into the bus, hiding in the back. We don't talk, Frank distracting himself by tracing over my exposed tattoos. My skin burns, begging me to break the contact. I don't pull away though. He needs someone right now, the broken look on his face saying more than he ever could with words. Pulling Frank close to me, I rub circles into his limbs; quietly singing songs I know make him happy. He falls asleep curled around me, his face streaked with tears. We stay this way through the night and long into the next day, the bus rumbling down the road.

The days spill past. I find myself spending more and more time with Frank. We wander around the venues. We get breakfast and smoke cigarettes. We sit together on the couch at the front of my bus, playing games, writing songs, talking. We laugh and joke back and forth. Frank shares music, pointing out the new albums he loves and various lyrics he seems to connect with. Underneath everything, there's still sadness to him. I catch him crying, curled into himself in the back of the bus. He sits for hours at times, scrolling through old pictures or reading their text conversations. I try to be there for him, to distract him from the things he has no choice but to face every day. Together we're healing. That's terrifying. To allow him back in, to be relaxed and open, to start trusting him again. At the same time, it feels like being on fire. The hole in my heart, once raw and bleeding, is beginning to mend, little pieces growing back. Every time he looks at me or his fingers graze mine or we fall asleep on the couch together I feel the butterflies stir. I feel myself wanting to let him in. I want to throw the past away but the little voice in my head warns me against it. That voice talks of pain, of inevitable heartbreak. As the end of tour grows closer, I sit in limbo, too terrified to think about what happens after, too hopeful to tell Frank to fuck off.