Anonymous

I never really cared for France. Not because of the French stereotype or anything like that, I just didn’t think it was all it was cracked up to be. It was like LA and New York City combined except the rats wore funny hats. Ha, I guess that was mean, but who cares? If you can laugh at one group of people, you should be able to laugh at everyone. Am I right? Well I like to laugh- I like to laugh at jokes no matter how crude they are. I think if people just learned to laugh more, the world would be a happier place. But that’s just a fantasy, right? The only thing humans know how to do is create war, destruction and tears. That’s the only thing that came naturally to us- fighting. We weren’t born knowing how to love; love is only like 200 years old, and even humans managed to twist that into something violent.

Maybe that’s why it became too hard for me to love…anyone. It wasn’t natural to me. It wasn’t innate. Every time I felt love, it scared me. Scared the crap out of me because it was just this alien feeling I couldn’t understand. It isn’t that I never wanted to be in love, I just…can’t handle it. Maybe I just fuck up my relationships just to prove that love is a farce. Maybe in some sick way, that makes my life feel normal. Maybe I am a hypocrite and all I wanted was to feel normal. Love isn’t normal. Love is abnormal. Love isn’t natural. Love is artificial. What was the point then?

When I am numb I tend to confuse myself. I don’t even know if what I am saying is making much sense. It probably isn’t. I probably sound like I am talking in circles. Round we go, round we go, circles. That’s a The Used song.

I sat on the bench somewhere in the park, not really caring if my guest could find me. Nothing really giving a shit anymore to talk to him about what happened. I already knew what he would say. He would say “I told you so.” Because, like Bert, he knew you. He knew you were a liar. And he hated you for that. He would tell fans how much of a crack whore you were, how you were such a liar, and how “My Chemical Romance sucks!” He said it in interviews and to people…anyone who would listen. Then he would call me and say “except you, Frankie.” I don’t even know why he bothered to exclude me. I knew he was angry with me for a long time after what happened. He didn’t call for six months…then out of the blue he showed up at one of our shows…

I forgot what he said to me that day…

The rustle of disturbed grass caught my attention, and I looked up to see the man I called. He was wearing a hoody and tight jeans; his now brown hair blew furiously in the wind as his matching brown eyes looked at me with pity. I noticed he shaved; he hates shaving. He only shaved when it was important- he wouldn’t even shave for interviews! But he shaved now. For me.

“You shaved,” I said, “why?”

He shrugged, “because I had to. I was looking like a ‘70’s porn star.”

He walked over and took a seat next to me on the bench. I didn’t look at him, just the dirty floor that was wet from a mysterious rain that passed through a day or so ago. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to start spilling my tired story. Give him the full detailed reason as to why, of all the fucking people in the whole world, I decided to call him. But I didn’t say anything; it’s like suddenly I didn’t want to. I just wanted him near me, to know someone cared enough about me to come.

He let out a sigh, “I was happily getting drunk and you called me in a panic-“

“I wasn’t panicking,” I interrupted with a slight growl, “I was just upset.”

He placed his and on my shoulder, “What did Gerard do?”

I shrugged, “Nothing.”

He laughed gently, not believing a word I was saying, and allow his hand to glide down my back. He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, so I was forced to lay my head on his chest. Okay, forced is a bad word, I didn’t mind sitting with him like that; wasn’t like it was the first time. Wasn’t like it was…abnormal. I just didn’t fit was well with him as I did with you. But the contact felt warm and inviting and I wanted more.

“Quinn,” I sighed, “why do you follow me?”

“…cause I worry about you. I worry what Gerard is going to do to you next. I don’t want you to get hurt, Frankie. I…care…about you a lot.”

A chilling wind passed through us, causing me to get closer to Quinn to escape the cold. I realized how comforting he was…we still didn’t fit…but he felt warm. Something you hadn’t felt in such a long time. I was comfortable in Quinn’s protective embrace- and the betrayal I had been feeling was replaced with the flutter of my heart. A gentle laugh rocked his strong body, sending small tingles to swarm through my body. I realized then what was happening; I was becoming increasingly attracted to Quinn as the seconds past. I didn’t know if it was because I always still harbored feelings for the boy, or because I just wanted to stop thinking of you for once. I wanted my mind occupied with something other than your lying face, and if that meant falling into the arms of an ex-boyfriend…I would do it.

Yes, I said ex-boyfriend, Gerard. I never told you about him because you were too engrossed in your destructive relationship with Bert to care. Quinn was there when I needed him, Quinn supported me, Quinn was there…no…Quinn was ALWAYS there when you were too busy getting drunk, or high, or fucking some chick. And when you told me to run from him, I did. I did for you, cause like a fool I did everything for you, with nothing to show for it.

“Hey,” his voice broke me from the turmoil in my head, “it’s freakily cold here. Wanna check in that hotel for the night?”

I craned my neck to look into his innocent brown eyes; innocent…he never looked innocent. Quinn Allman was as guilty as Bert. Guilty for what exactly? I don’t know. But in that moment, under the moon’s heavenly glow…he seemed pure.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

We headed for the small hotel called Belle Reve, his hand tightly clasped around mine, saying almost nothing to each other. Not much needed to be said. He could tell I was hurting under my cold demeanor, but I just didn’t have it in me to tell him. He knew what Gerard did weeks ago…he didn’t know what he did tonight. I didn’t want to tell him, honestly. I knew what he would say- he would beg me to quit. He would paint a horrible picture of you; showing me all the disgusting things you had done, have done, will do. I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted someone…to just be there…that simple.

And he could understand that.

The hotel was made of cold stone. It was fairly big, but the chilling wind that passed through the lobby was more of an internal chill than an external. There was the small lobby that was probably the size of jail cell; with the receptionist desk hidden in the wall, and a large staircase towards our right taking up most of the room. There was a narrow hallway that led to, what seemed like, a lobby with a fire place and some old French Army memorabilia occupying the space along with a bookshelf.

The receptionist was a bored French man who barely took his eyes from the porno mag to check us in. But when he did look at his, he scowled and said something about American’s in French. I knew he probably overcharged us for the shitty room that didn’t match the name of the hotel- “Beautiful Dream”- but it wasn’t like it mattered, right? We were just going to use the room to get high and pass out. Price wasn’t an issue. Not the biggest issue anyway.

Quinn and I trudged up the staircase, wincing every time the old thing made a horrible creaking sound. Once up the stairs, we noticed the noises coming out of some of the rooms were not of pleasurable moans and screams. We laughed like little school boys and ran to our room. One of the rooms of pleasure Quinn passed he knocked on the door and screamed: “She’s faking!” And continued to run down the hall with me. We found our room, and quickly shuffled him, closing and locking the old thing. I was still laughing at Quinn’s antics, sliding down the door to the dirty floor.

He knelt down in front of me, running his fingers through my hair so I would look into his eyes. He was inches from my face, his hot breath against my lips…the tingles returned and they were heading Frankie jr. It wouldn’t be love…but it would be close enough.

“Frank,” he didn’t drag his teeth over his lip like you did.

I wanted him anyway. I grabbed his face and pulled our lips together. It was a simple kiss, but he pushed forward to gain dominance over me. He always preferred being the lead in our make-out sessions; he liked being on top because it made up for the fact that his dick was so small. I let him have this one satisfaction.

We picked ourselves up and traveled towards the tacky bed that had seen more opened legs than us combined. In the process I we lost our shirts, exposing our tattooed chests. He had gotten some since we last saw each other. He began a vicious assault on my exposed neck, but a sinister glint twinkled in my eye and I quickly pulled away, crawling on to the bed. He followed, with a smile that matched my eyes on his handsome face.

“How far do you want this to go Frankie?”

We were kneeling before each other, the same lustful look and the same tent in our pants. We are men. We get to a point were turning back is impossible. Quinn and I were beyond that point. We had the overwhelming feelings still left over from our affair, we had the lust that surged through our bodies. We had the need to feel complete and the throbbing from our manhood. We weren’t going anywhere that night. And I honestly rather lay with him and feel something, than lay with you and feel nothing.

“All the way.”

He tackled me. And from kneeling to laying, we lost our pants. We were nothing but boxers, kissing like two horny teenagers, nothing but a thin fabric. I moaned in his mouth every time his hardness connected with mine. His hands glided over my chest…my fingers got tangled in his messy hair…somehow we managed to get the boxers off with similar moans coming out of our mouths…

And despite the vibration of my phone against the old wooden floor…you calling for me…

I allowed Quinn to take my body that had been reserved for you. But all the time I was thinking “eye for an eye…” You betrayed me…

I betray you…