How A Heart Breaks

Sometimes I really do hate you. What the fuck is wrong with me? I seriously told him that, goddamn, I can’t even believe I had thought that! I do not hate him at all, not even close. And shit- the way his face crumbled made my heart squeeze itself into a gigantic, complicated knot. I absolutely hate fighting with Porter, it’s one of the worst things I’ve experienced. Okay, so I had definitely brought this entire thing onto myself, I suppose. I mean, no- technically, I hadn’t wanted to walk in on him pounding some girl. But in the back of my mind, I knew. I had that voice calling to me, telling me to stay away. I hadn’t.

I slam my hand against the steering wheel, grinding my teeth and all. Nathan cowered away from me, and I felt each of their eyes resting on my tense form. I just can’t stop myself sometimes, sometimes I just get too frustrated with things. And I suppose I had never dealt with jealousy particularly well, though it was a mix of other things that had made me so angry. I know it was only one girl he had, but one can turn to two, and he must know he can have each girl wrapped around his grubby finger if he damn well pleased. Maybe that’s that part that’s getting to his head: the girls surrounding him because he’s in a band, and he totally enjoys it.

“We’re here,” Porter mumbles. I barely even hear him: or I do, but I don’t listen to him. I’m too focused on driving, too focused on the way my hands are squeezing tightly around the steering wheel. Part of me wants to rip right through this stupid wheel, the other part wants to just let go, stop being so stupid about this and just leave things alone. In any case, it’s as though my hand refuse to stop- we end up passing the venue.

“Pash!” Nathan screeches, “Where’re you going?!” He reaches for my hand, but never fully touches it, only hovers above it. Suddenly, my feet- not one of them, but both- slam onto the breaks, making the car behind us skid to a stop with an angry honk to let us know: she was definitely cussing us out. Nathan is hyperventilating, and for a moment it takes me a while to figure out why. But as an awkward silence fills the air, my mind begins to work normally again. I had completely forgotten that Nathan dislikes cars enough. Not only had his older brother and mother died in some car wreck, but also he had also always been fearful of cars. He hated the noise of skidding tires and a sudden halt. It just freaked him out.

“Fuck,” I slam my hands on the wheel again, “I’m sorry, man.” Nathan looks at me, with narrowed eyes.

“You’re such a jackass, Pash.” Of course, it was Porter who says this- with quite the bitter edge, might I add. I have a sour response at the tip of my tongue, but Nathan’s hand clasps over my mouth, and I watch wide-eyed as he turns and glares at Porter.

“You two are fucked!” He growls, “I don’t know what the fuck you two are fighting over-”

“Ask him!” Porter points to me; “He’s been a dick for nothing!” I slap Nathans hand away from my mouth.

“Nothing?!” I roar. “H-”

“Yes, Pash, it was nothing. Like no one in this van hasn’t had sex before! And don’t give me this shit about the ‘fame’ getting to me, because it’s not. Being on Warped Tour doesn’t mean we’re ‘famous’. People get horny, and that’s what people do!” I roll my eyes. He rolls his in response and continues, “What-the-fuck-ever, man. I’ll just go to you next time, is that what you want?” Hayden giggles, but shuts up immediately as Nathan, Porter and I glare at him. I fall silent, and Nathan just looks at me, and since he knows, his eyes are displaying an apology of sorts. I sigh.

“Sorry,” I grumble, staring at Porter. He looks shocked, but a small smile tugs at his lips.

“Look, if it bothered you that much, it won’t happen again. I told you that remember? I offered my pinky and everything.” He stares at me wide-eyed, a ‘I’m-totally-serious-right-now’ wide-eyed, and I can’t help but smile. And the guys watch us as we both stick out our pinkies and intertwine them together. We never broke a pinky promise.

Once I turned the van around, and parked it in the proper place, each of us had went off to do different things. Porter and Nathan had gone off to set up our Merch table, while the rest of us simply wondered around. I was pleasantly surprised to have people come up to me, asking for a picture or autograph. Even one girl had almost pissed her self: Oh my god! You’re Pash Carter!- I had responded with a smile and a: ‘Oh, my god! I am!’, and somehow that had made her day, because she laughed while she asked for an autograph, laughed through a picture and laughed as she walked away.

Now, I’m just back at the merch tent, munching on pizza and sipping it down with some nasty vitamin water that tasted like dick…or something. I scrunch up my nose as I take a sip and take another bite of my pizza and as I look up, Porter is running toward the merch tent, arms flailing in the air and his mouth stretched into an odd organic shape that surely had all the girls wanting to stay away from him for once.

“Pash!” He screams, as I take another bite of the pizza. “Pash!” And I take another bite. “Pash! Guess what?” He stands in front of me, dancing on the tips of his toes as he smiles widely.

“You learned how to use a toilet?” I grunt it out, taking another bite of my pizza. He stops, and glares at me playfully (for the first time in two entire days).

“Ha.Ha.” He snorts, “can you even use a toilet by yourself anymore, or do the people at the senior home have to help you out?” Slowly, I look up from my pizza, and he’s smiling smugly with his arms crossed over his chest. I stand, throwing the crust of my pizza on the table and peer down at him, making our noses touch. Man, if only my chin went forward, our lips would surely connect. But I resist. His hands now rest by his sides, and his smug smile is gone.

“Seriously? Do you want to keep that tic-tac you call a penis?” I hiss, he steps back.

“Yeah?” He raises a brow, “Tic-tac? Pash, isn’t that your favorite mint?” And just like that, I shrink.

“So, what’s the good news?” He purses his lips.

“I don’t remember.”

“Of course.” I roll my eyes.

After our set, which was played closer to when the night was over, Julian proclaimed how hungry he was, and so we end up across the street: in Wendy’s. As we are talking amongst each other, in the line just waiting to taste some fries or something. But then some loser from BrokenCYDE (stupid name, stupid band) storms in and finds Hayden almost immediately. This guy proceeds to tell Hayden about some party that’s going to happen. So then Porter is excited, saying he hasn’t drank in such a long time. And then Julian is interested, then Nathan is drawn in. The only reason this is unsettling is because although Porter hasn’t admitted it, I had not ignored it when he planned to drink, he wouldn’t really eat. Not anything with calories, anyways. Because beer is too many calories.

And you get drunk faster. The only think that Porter had ate was one of those little cereal boxes and I can’t say that I was surprised when he turned and walked away with that guy from brokenCYDE, not bothering with food. In fact, Hayden had only ordered French fries and chased after them: Julian, Nathan and I were the only ones who really ate. And I know everyone will drink, but I absolutely hate it when they get so plastered that they’ve lost themselves.

When I finally see Porter again, it’s merely the beginning of the party and lo and behold: he’s well on his way to being absolutely plastered- he’s about to lose himself. I can tell by the way he staggers, fights to take his top off. And all I can do is watch.