Moth to Flame

We find a hotel somewhere down the road.

Oscar seems happy about this. I can tell by his smile and the way his eyes light up every time he mentions how glad he is that I decided to come with him. He says this will be the best adventure because we have each other and, really, that's all that we need.

I'm trying to find faith, but, at the moment, I'm not sure what that means. I want to feel happy with Oscar, and I do, but I also want to get rid of that nagging voice in the back of my head. The one that is telling me this trip was a mistake and can only end in disaster.

I want it to be known, to myself more than anybody, that I love Oscar.

"You have that look again, babe," Oscar is telling me. He's sitting on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of boxers he found at the bottom of his duffel bag. His hair is still soaking wet from the warm water in the shower and he smells like cheap hotel soap. He looks so beautiful. The kind of beautiful I don't deserve.

"No, I'm just... I need a cigarette," I reply.

Oscar frowns because he wants me to quit smoking. I kind of shrug and smile in what I'm hoping is an apologetic fashion. When his lips curve into that straight line I can still see the disappointment and I wish it was enough to make me want to change my mind.

"I'll be outside, okay?"

Oscar nods and watches as I fish a pack of Newports and a lighter from the side pocket of my bag. He doesn't say he is surprised I packed them, but I know that he wishes I hadn't even thought about it.

I unlock the door and wave as I step outside. Oscar smiles, although I know he's only trying to look like he isn't bothered, and I smile back before closing the door.

Outside, the wind is brisk and cold and I wish I'd thought about bringing a jacket. However, I'm not cold enough to head back inside. I light my cigarette and take a long drag, sighing in relief at the scent and taste of nicotine. I'm not sure how I'd gone three days without tasting what I believe to be heaven. Or something close to it.

I climb down the steps and walk toward the car. I try the door to see if Oscar forgot to lock it and realize that he hadn't. Subconsciously, I'd known I'd have no luck and, to be honest, I'm a little pissed I'd bothered with trying. Without the luxurious option of an indoor smoke, I climb onto the hood and lie back.

Not even two minutes go by when I hear footsteps approaching. I lift my head, but only slightly, and see a familiar figure walking my way. The hair comes into view first and then the face and I'll be damned it's him.

I sit up and exhale smoke while I wait for him to get a little bit closer. When my face comes into view he smiles in that way that haunts me and walks a little faster.

"Frank Iero," he says.

I grin and say hello. "What are you doing here, Gerard?"

He shrugs. "I've been here for a while, actually. You know, hanging out.... nothing special."

I'm not sure how I feel about seeing him after so many years. He still looks the same since high school. The same dark hair and haunting hazel eyes, the same knowing smile that sends shivers up my spine.

"I'm here with Oscar," I tell him. "You remember him right?"

Gerard nods, his smile fading, but only slightly. "Yeah. I remember him. You guys still going out?"

I nod. "Yeah. We are. He's a good guy."

The conversation is a little awkward, but it's nothing I should have expected. Speaking Gerard couldn't be anything but uncomfortable. He looks toward the space next to me on the hood of the car and I ask if he wants to sit down.

"Yeah. Sure. Can I bum a cigarette?"

I shake my head. "No. You can't." I offer him the pack as I laugh. "Go ahead."

He's smiling in that way that used to make my heart turn and still does. That beautiful smile that lets me know there is something happy deep down inside of him; something less that dark and more than an extension chord.

"I can't believe you still smoke," Gerard says.

"I can believe that you still do."

He looks at me and asks for a light. I nod and hand over the lighter. "What made you think I still smoked?" He asks.

I shrug, not wanting to state my reasons out loud. When I don't say anything, he nudges my shoulder. "C'mon, Frankie. Spit it out, it's only me you're talking to."

I furrow my brow. "The last time I saw you..." I trail off, deciding it wasn't the time. That and I didn't want to make things more uncomfortable than necessary. "It-- Gerard, it wasn't like you had a certain will to live. If anything, it was the exact opposite."

Gerard nods, exhaling a ring of smoke. I never knew how he was able to do that. "Well, you did," he says. "Which is why I don't understand why you'd kill yourself with nicotine."

I put my cigarette out on the car and toss it to the side, watching as it hit the black pavement of the parking lot. "Things change... people change," I tell him. "I guess it's safe to say things are different now."

"You're unhappy?" Gerard asks.

"I don't know," I tell him. "I think I am, but sometimes... He's just such a good guy. He loves me, a lot, and I feel like I'm not good enough for him."

It's strange how things pick up so easily with Gerard. Words come without thought and he accepts them as they are. He doesn't want me to say anything other than the words that leave my mouth. He seems to understand what other people can't seem to comprehend.

I thought seeing him again, if I ever did, would be different. I thought I would want to hit him and scream at him and ask him how he could do that to me. I thought I'd hate him.

However, in reality, I didn't want to do any of those things. I wanted to talk to him and tell him everything in hopes of feeling as if I wasn't so alone.