My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

Nearly a month later I stood in the airport, surrounded by My Chemical Romance, as we waited for our flight to be announced. We were off to Hawaii, our last destination before this tour was over. It was about two and a half weeks until the tour was finished, and we spent that time in four different cities in Hawaii.

I was extremely nervous, knowing that in about two days, my month to tell Frank was over. I was planning on telling him tomorrow, but everytime I thought about it I felt strange, and I didn't know why.

For the past week I could barely look at Frank, because when I did I wanted to cry. I was scared as hell to tell Frank, but even more scary was not knowing how he would respond.

The guys in the band had come to know me so well, they knew something was up. I had been a nervous wreck lately, messing up on simple things during their shows that I could normally do blind-folded. But no matter how many times they asked, I denied anything was wrong.

The worst part of having to tell Frank was knowing that for the next two weeks, we would no longer be talking, or so I assumed. But why would he want to talk to me after what I put him through? After I told him, there would be no more secret kisses in the changing room before the shows. There would be no comforting arm around me as we watched T.V. There would be no hand holding mine whenever we walked somewhere. For the next two weeks I would be doing everything alone, and that was hard to think about.

“You okay?” Frank whispered into my ear, disturbing me from kneading my hands together in anticipation.

I turned to look at him, and like always, felt that familiar heart break/ leap at the concerned look in his gorgeous eyes. He didn't deserve what I was about to put him through. Nobody deserved that.

“I'm fine.” I lied, smiling weakly at him.

Frank reached for my hand and squeezed it, “Hey, that reminds me, I have something to give you.”

I looked at him in confusion and he laughed.

“Actually, I have two things to give you, but one you don't get until we're in Hawaii.” He smiled that secretive smile at me, that smile that I had been trying to figure out since the moment I met him. I wanted desperately to know what was so secretly amusing to him, wanted to know why I was the only recipent of that trademark smile of his.

“Here.” Frank reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper.

He handed it to me and I looked down at it. Written in Frank's messy scrawl was his home address in New Jersey, and his cellphone number.

“After this tour is over, I have no idea what we're going to do.” He told me, looking sad, “We live so far away from each other, but I'm willing to try the long distance thing if you are. I can come visit you and you can come visit me. And maybe,” Frank broke off, looking at me curiously before continuing, “Maybe one day... you could come live with me.”

I gulped and nodded my head slightly, stuffing the piece of paper into my purse and out of sight.

What was killing me was the fact that while Frank had anticipations about what would happen to our relationship after this tour, I already knew.

I already knew that we were going to be broken up, and living our own lives. But Frank continued to think that his future contained me. That was what was eating me up inside.