I Fear I Might Break

Shoulders slumped, I walked back to the venue. My eyes studied each piece of gravel as I walked.

Why do these things happen to me?

Eyes glanced up, finding the tour bus, also known as my next destination. Feet shuffled their way across the parking lot pavement. I touched the door of the bus.

Locked.

Sighing, I sat down and leaned against the bus. My eyes followed the clouds' movements across the sky. The sun soaked me in a comforting light. Eyes closed in relaxation and breathing began to slow.

"So what happened?" someone asked, pulling me from my almost sleep.

I opened one eye. Octave stood in front of me, arms crossed. His eyes held aggravation.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, closing my eye again.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Hayley ran back here in tears. She still hasn't calmed down and she won't talk to anyone. She keeps mumbling your fucking name when we ask a question. We can't have a hysterical Hayley Williams on stage today."

"I didn't do anything."

"Oh really?"

No.

"Yes."

"What happened before she ran back?"

Crush confessions.

I opened my eyes. "I don't know."

He looked apprehensively at me. "Fine," he grumbled. "Just... could you—"

I cut him off, "Could I what?"

"Could you go talk to her?"

Eyes widened. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"To calm her down."

"Why?"

"Because it would help all of us."

"Do I look like a saint?"

He paused, "Yes?"

"My name is Sin for a reason."

"Just do it," he begged.

"No."

"Do it or I'll write some mushy-gushy crap on your cast and tell all of our fans about it and how much you like the color pink tonight," he threatened.

My mouth dropped.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh I would." He pulled a black sharpie out of his pocket.

I rushed to my feet. "Fine," I grunted. "But I won't like it."

"That's all I'm asking," he said, a smirk planted on his face.

Eyes gave him a quick glare and feet carried the body away.

That jack ass.

I walked to the tour bus with "Paramore" in big letters on the side. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. The sound of someone shuffling around met my ears. The door opened, exposing Zac. His eyebrows knitted together.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Octave told me to come. Apparently Hayley ran back here crying."

"She did run back crying. In fact, she hasn't stop," Zac crossed his arms.

"Did anyone tell her that she's going to get sick and make her voice worse than it is? Not to mention that she's going to have a poofy, red face."

Why can't I just say sorry?

"Why are you so mean to her?"

Huh?

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you always treat her like shit?"

Like I would tell you.

"I have my reasons," I replied.

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"So are you going to man up and take responsibility for what you did?"

"What I did?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know you made Hayley cry... Again."

"Why does everyone assume I did it?"

"Because it's you."

My nose wrinkled.

Ass.

"Look, it's just that she won't stop saying your name. I'm guessing it had to do with you," Zac explained.

Way to reiterate the fact that I'm a bitch.

"Can I go talk to her?"

One eyebrow rose.

"Why?"

Lungs inhaled deeply and released.

"She can't keep crying all day. There's a show today. Do you want a whole bunch of teenie boppers to be disappointed?" I asked.

"Teenie boppers?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "You just insulted your own age group."

"Not caring. Move."

My hand pushed him to one side of the stairs. I squeezed through, cast and all. Scents of dirty socks and sweat met my nose. Dirty clothes littered the bus. A once frozen pizza sat on top of the television, soaking it with its icy water. Video game controllers were placed on the ground, connected to a video game system.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Zac said.

"You know Xbox is lame, right?"

He gasped. "No, it's not."

"Uh yeah, it is."

"Take that back. You're hurting its feelings."

"How does Hayley stand it here?"

"Oh come on, it's not that bad."

He glanced around.

"Okay maybe it is," Zac admitted. "I'm sure your bus is just as bad."

"There are three girls on our bus. We don't let it get that bad. Plus, our guys are whipped."

"Hayley doesn't really care all that much. She stays in her bunk most of the day. She has a glade plug-in."

"She doesn't ever want the TV for herself?"

"Nope. She listens to your music all day, watches your music videos and interviews, and looks at pictures of you. She could probably recite everything you've said in an interview, word for word."

"That's a little creepy."

"What can I say? She likes you more than you realize. You don't know how excited she was for this tour. I guess she thought things would turn out differently."

Eyes looked at the ceiling. Tears threatened to spill.

Don't let them out.

"Where is she?" I asked.

His eyes burned into my cheek. "In her bunk."

"Where's that?"

"Back of the bus. Orange, duck-covered curtains."

Eyes glanced at him, questioning.

"You'll see when you get there."

Unsure, I nodded. Feet avoided the clothing strewn on the floor and brought my body to the bunks. Sobs could be heard through out the bunks and my name was mumbled. My eyes immediately caught sight of the bright orange curtains. I looked at them closely. The orange curtains were covered in pictures of me in last year's Halloween costume: a duck costume— also known as a skimpy, yellow dress curtsey of Spencer's— that showed more than it should have, an orange visor, and bright yellow heels.

... Ducks...

My hand reached for the curtain, stopped, and withdrew.

I can't just open the curtain. What if she's not decent... Hm... Hayley Williams scantily clad... I could deal with that.

My hand reached again but stopped.

She'll kill me if I do that.

Hand moved to one of the bed supports next to her bunk. I hit it a couple of times. The sobs stopped.

"Who is it?" Hayley's voice asked through the curtain.

"Can I open the curtain?" I asked.

Pause.

"Sin?" she asked.

"Yes."

Another pause. The curtain flew back. Hayley's now red eyes stared at me. She wiped under her eyes quickly, removing the eyeliner trails, and sniffled. Her hair stuck up in different directions. A red color covered the tip of her nose. Tear stains decorated her shirt.

"Hi," she breathed.

She looks so cute when she's been crying.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

"Uh..." her eyes glimpsed nervously around her bunk.

"Please."

She halted then moved to one side of her bunk. "Sure... but you can't say anything about the way it's decorated."

"I haven't said anything about the curtains," my body climbed into the bunk.

She blushed. "I got them from a friend."

I nodded and looked around. Pictures of Asylum Inc. covered the walls.

"No individual shot of me?" I asked.

"They're in a binder and on my walls at home."

My eyes looked into her's.

"Hayley," I started.

"I know you don't like me," she interrupted.

"What?"

"You're brother kept telling me the only reason you were being mean is because you have a crush on me. I shouldn't have let him get my hopes up."

I can't believe him.

"Hayley, its not that I don't like you—"

"It sure seems like it."

"No, let me finish."

She looked at her lap.

"I do like you. I like you a lot. You don't know how much of a crush I have on you. But.... we can't be together. For the sake of your career, we can't be together. My fans are okay with me being a lesbian. What would your's say?"

"I—" she started.

"No. I'm not done. I wasn't excited for this tour just because I knew we wouldn't be able to be together. Its torture seeing you and knowing I can't touch you. I treated you like shit and always have talked bad about you. Couldn't have anyone knowing I was crushing on a girl I thought was straight," I chuckled. "I do like you. If there was a way for us to be together, I'd be all for it but, as it is, there isn't."

Tears streamed down Hayley's face.

"Don't cry. When you come out to your fans and your family, hit me up."

"Why do I have to come out to them?"

"So there's no drama in the tabloids and so your family isn't ashamed."

She huffed. "My family already knows."

Oh.

"It doesn't matter to me what my fans think of my personal choices. It should be the music that they care about," Hayley stated.

"But that's not all they care about. If you don't tell them and they read it in some stupid magazine, they'll feel betrayed. It’s a fact of the entertainment industry. Fans want to know what's going on in your life."

She stared at her lap again. Droplets fell to her pant legs.

I don't want her to be hurt by me.

My hand reached up and grabbed her chin gently. Hand tilted her head upward to face me. I moved closer to her lips. Instinctively, our eyes closed. My lips brushed her's and pulled back. I looked her in the eyes, searching for a sign of acceptance. Hayley looked eagerly into my eyes. I moved in again. Lips pushed against each other, still soft and hesitant. My hands placed themselves on her cheeks; her hands grabbed my waist. The curtains pulled back and light flooded the bunk. Hayley and I pulled away from each other quickly and looked at the source of the disturbance.

"Sex makes babies," yelled Damien holding the curtain in one hand.