I Fear I Might Break

Hayley’s jaw dropped. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"You," I replied.

She shook her head. "Fine," she walked back to her table.

No fight? Does she even know how to fight back?

"Let’s go," Octave dragged me to the hallway, followed closely by the doctor.

My body sat on a couch. Octave grabbed my chin, tugging it upward slightly so my eyes could meet his.

"Don’t look at your arm," he commanded.

The doctor opened his white bag adorning a red cross.

"You really shouldn’t act like that to Hayley," he said while digging through his bag.

My eyes rolled. He began inspecting my arm.

"I’m not kidding. You never know how she’s going to react. Though, I’ve never seen her back down like that from anything."

"So she does know how to fight," I marveled.

The doctor chuckled slightly. "Yes, she does. Let me tell you, she packs one mean punch." He rubbed his jaw slightly.

I find that oddly attractive...

"I take it you’ve been on the receiving end," Octave continued to hold my chin.

"Oh, yeah. Never flirt with Hayley Williams. She taught me a damn lesson," the doctor applied pressure to the bone.

A snap and the bone was back in place, followed by a large amount of pain. A squeak escaped my mouth. The doctor pulled a sling and bandages from his bag of tricks. In minutes the bandages and sling were applied to my arm.

"I might check on you tomorrow. We need to get an actual cast on this thing. No heavy lifting. No extreme physical activity and, please, no fights with Hayley," instructed the doctor.

"I can’t promise you that last one," I stood. "Thanks so much for fixing this."

He nodded and walked back into the room.

"You coming back in?" asked Octave.

"Nope," I started walking back out the door.

Octave grabbed my unwounded arm. "Maybe you didn’t understand that. By "you coming back in" I meant get your ass back in that ball room and apologize to Hayley"

"No."

"Damn it, Sin. Why do you have to be so difficult? What is so wrong with Hayley that you have to hate her?"

"Everything."

"What does that mean?"

A sigh left my mouth.

I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m crazy.

"Sin, let it out. I’m your brother; I promise I won’t betray you with the information."

"You act like its top secret."

"Well, you won’t tell anyone."

"It’s just..." I stopped.

"Just what?"

"I don’t know."

Octave threw his hands in the air. "So for some irrational reason, you hate Paramore and Hayley Williams."

"It’s not irrational!" I yelled

"Then what is it!?" he yelled back

"Their lives are so damn perfect! Everything about them is just perfect! They’re normal. They’re happy. They don’t have the problems we have. Why can’t our band be normal like that? Why do we get the short end of the stick?"

"What about Panic and Fall Out Boy? They’re not normal?"

"Ryan Ross’ father was a drunk. Brendon Urie got kicked out of his house for being in the band. Jon and Spencer tend to be overlooked by the public. Pete Wentz attempted suicide. Patrick Stump doesn’t talk and his initials are PMS. Andy believes civilization is going to eventually collapse and Joe looks like a hobo."

"Why aren’t we normal?"

"We have problems and past experiences that can NOT get leaked to the press. You know that."

"You know our problems give us our odd attitudes towards everything, right? We’ve learned to fake it for the camera. We look normal to the rest of the world because that’s how the press portrays us. If you’re judging this by what you’ve heard, seen, or read, then you need to reconsider. Maybe they’ve learned to fake it too."

"I guess..."

"There’s something else, isn’t there?" Octave titled his head. "Or maybe you act like a school boy with a crush for no reason." He crossed his arms.

"That obvious?"

"Not to them. But I know you and I know how you act around the girls you like. You tease them or act like a complete bitch to them. You play tricks on them and piss them off. Just like a school boy with a crush. It’s kind of funny."

"I do not play tricks on them."

Octave crossed his arms. "Maybe you don’t remember the last one. You dipped her ponytail in blue paint... then cut it off."

"I was like nine years old."

"Try sixteen."

Oh yeah...

Silence.

"I rest my case. Go tell her."

"But she’s straight."

"Does it look like I care?"

"I’m not telling her!"

His eyes rolled.

"At least come back to the party. They’re going to have all the front men go up for something."

"Fine."

That’s what I get for being nominated front man.