Sister, I'm Not Much a Poet but a Criminal

He took my hand and we went back to the studio. It was the one place on the bus where I felt I could truly be alone, so I had spent a lot of time there recently.

"You okay?"

"No," I admitted. "I can't believe what I'm about to do."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know how this morning I was upset that I woke up alone? Well that wasn't what bothered me. It was the fact that I knew I had you, but you weren't there."

"I'll always be there for you."

I shook my head. "You can't always be there. Maybe..." I took a deep breath to try to dislodge the lump that had formed in my throat. "Maybe it would be better if when I woke up alone I didn't know that there was a chance that you could be there."

"Molly, don't do this," the childlike happiness that was usually etched into his features had completely dissolved.

Tears sprang into my eyes and I couldn't seem to get a proper breath. I had tried to prepare myself for the pain, but the fact that I was hurting him made it so much worse.

"It's for the best," I whispered.

"The best for who?" he countered. "Because it sure as hell doesn't seem like it's what's best for either of us."

"I'm trying to make it all easier."

"This is a shitty effort."

His tone made my heart stop. He wasn't angry, he was in pain. And I was the cause.

"Please forgive me," my voice cracked as the first tear escaped from my eye.

"I can't be mad if you really believe you're doing what's right. I want you to do what you believe in."

"I'm not sure about what's right anymore. This isn't how I wanted it to end. I'll still see you, though," I said the last part more as a comfort to myself than to him.

A very faint glimmer of hope flickered across his eyes.

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "I'll see you on TV and magazines, and on my bedroom walls. I'll hear you on the radio. And when you get back home, maybe we'll have to meet up again."

His face fell, and he fidgeted slightly. "That's not a maybe. I'll call you before we're even off the plane."

I kissed his forehead in the same way he had done to me so many times before.

"Don't forget me, Frankie," I sniffed slightly. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," his voice was barely audible as he tried to mask his pain. He reached up to remove my chain from his neck, but I stopped him.

"Keep it. Just because we're not dating, it doesn't mean I can't give you a gift."

He dropped his hand and looked into my eyes. The bus decreased its speed as we entered the city.

"Can we keep in touch?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't be able to survive if we were completely cut off. Believe me, if I thought there was any way that we could make this work while you're gone-" I stopped, as the lump in my throat grew and nearly blocked off my breath. A silent tear slid down my cheek and I hoped he knew just how much I wanted him in my life.

"Molly, come get your shit! We're almost home!" Ariella yelled.

Frank and I shared a quick hug and I left him there, alone. I stuffed his gloves into my bag and zipped it up before saying goodbye to the rest of the band.

Gerard wiped a tear from my cheek. "We'll see you before you know it."

"Take care of him for me," I whispered, not trusting my voice to hold steady if I spoke at a normal volume.

When he nodded his agreement, I grabbed my things and stepped off the bus. As it drove away, I stared through my tears.

A shadow lurked in the back window, and I knew it was Frank. Every fibre of my being wanted to chase after him and beg him to take me back, but something held me where I stood until the bus turned a corner and disappeared from view.

A sob escaped my dry throat as my weakened knees gave way beneath me. My shins slammed into the pavement and I felt myself falling forward. Hands shot out of nowhere and caught me by the shoulders.

"Molly, it's okay. Just get up and come inside," Ariella's gentle voice commanded in my ear.

I nodded, but I was too numb to fully understand anything. She pulled me up and slung my arm aroung her shoulder. I leaned on her for support as we walked into her apartment.

When she closed the door behind us, I felt like she was shutting out the best thing that had ever happened to me. I'd brought this pain on myself, and I couldn't help but regret it.

I heard her call our parents to let them know that we were home. When she hung up, she sat beside me on the couch.

"It'll be fine, he'll be home soon."

"I broke up with him. Now he can move on," even in my head, my voice sounded almost dead.

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't know."

"Call him."

I shook my head miserably. "You didn't see the look on his face when I did it. I thought I was only hurting myself, but I think I did more damage than I'd bargained for."

She gave me a quick hug. "If you don't want to call him, then you're just going to have to live without him."

"He's better off," I nearly choked on my words. "I just hope he knows how much I love him."

"He knows. I just hope you know how much he loves you."

I wiped my eyes. "It would be easier if I didn't."

She patted my back softly. "This isn't the end, you know."

"Then why does it feel that way?"

And we sat there in silence, all the while numbness sat waiting until I let it in. As it flowed, icy and venemous, through my veins, I allowed it to take over. It drug me down and I knew it would be a long time before I resurfaced.

** You don't think I would end it all like this, do you? Watch for a sequel! **