Forever & Always.

"C'mon C, it'll be fun. I swear," Frank begged me, turning on those puppy dog eyes, quivering bottom lip and everything. 

Rolling my eyes I sighed, "Fine. I'll go."

He squealed excitedly before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. I tried not to tense up as he pressed up against the purple-black bruise on my stomach, not wanting him to ask questions. He hadn't asked what had happened after he had left last night and I hadn't volunteered any information. If he didn't ask then I wouldn't tell, but I wouldn't avoid a direct question. 

The short man dragged me by the wrist out of my house, pausing only to shut the door behind us. When I protested, saying I needed to change, he simple said: "you're beautiful C." and I had shut up. It was rare for me to actually ever feel 'beautiful' , but Frank could convince me in only a matter of a few words. It was his tone of his voice that made me believe him, he truly believed that I looked beautiful and that, in turn, made me feel like I was. So, climbing into a taxi with unruly wavy hair, a simple '50s dress and the bare minimum of make-up I felt the prettiest I had in years. I couldn't wipe the huge grin off my face. 

"Oh shit!" I forgot my purse," I mumbled more to myself than anyone else. 

"It's fine C," Frank wrapped an arm around my shoulders as the car pulled away from the curb. "I want to treat you."

I shook my head in protest, "You treated me yesterday. All that junk food!"

He chuckled, "Yeah, but I have to make up for all those chances to treat you that I've missed."

Rolling my eyes I grinned, "You're an idiot Frankenstein."

"Yeah, but you love it."

I leaned up and pecked his cheek, "That I do hon, that I do."



There was a queue right down the street outside the popular club Fibbers, but Frank just strolled right to the top -- dragging me behind him -- ignoring the glares being directed at him by those still waiting in the queue. 

"Frank Iero," He stated in a bored tone to the bouncer standing at the door, clipboard in hand. "I have a plus one."

The burly security man checked his list and nodded. Frank and I went to go on in but were stopped by a second security guard who looked Frank up and down, his eyebrows raised. 

"You got I.D. son?" He asked in a scratchy smoker's voice. "Because there is no feckin' way you're eighteen."

This was because of Frank's height and we all knew it. Just because he was short he was getting picked on. 
The blonde and black haired man beside me just rolled his eyes and pulled his wallet out of his jeans and flashed a New Jersey driver's license at the bald security man. The guy was shocked to say the least but tried to hide it as he waved us in in to the club. Frank exhaled angrily and all but dragged me in side muttering something about 'retarded security dickheads' . 

The inside of the club was dimly lit with deep red Walls and a charcoal grey tile floor. Metallica's cover of Whisky In The Jar blared through huge speakers supported on the wall and I could see people dancing to it on a dance floor over to the right of the small club. 
Frank didn't even pause in the entranceway, just made a beeline towards a large booth in furthest corner from the door. Unlike me, he has obviously visited this club before. 

As we approached the full table of people, I began to panic. I stopped and pulled on Frank's arm. He paused and turned to face me, a smile on his lips. 

"You okay C?"

I shook my head. My hands were trembling and he noticed, taking them in his and rubbing soothing circles into the skin, "I'm scared Frankie."

He shook his head, "Don't be. They've missed you. They'll just be happy you're here."

"Can we...can we not tell them who I am?" I asked, biting my lip apprehensively. "At least just for now."

He rolled his eyes but nodded, "Fine, but what will I call you?"

"Uhm... May," I smiled. "That's my middle name."

"'Kay," His lips formed a reassuring smile but I could tell that he was unhappy with my decision to stay anonymous. He wanted to tell them who I was but I was too afraid of their unpredictable reactions. 
What if they hated me?

"Hey everyone. This is my friend May ," I felt Frank's hand give mine a comforting squeeze and I looked up only to have to bit my lip to stop a gasp of surprise from escaping my mouth. 
I had thought, that after seeing their appearance at the show a couple of weeks ago, that I'd be prepared for seeing the other four MCR boys again. I was sorely mistaken. They looked worse, if that was even possible. 
Ray was sitting at the edge of the booth but he scooted over to make room for both me and Frank. The afro headed man smiled drunkenly up at me as I took my seat beside him and I found it hard to believe that he was the same guy who had once volunteered to drive my aunt Toni to the airport to pick me up when I first arrived in Jersey. Gone was the responsible teen who always ensured we weren't breaking any laws when we got up to no good,  instead there was a drunk rockstar who seemed to care more about alcohol than the music he made. 
Staring at the young men sitting around the black tabletop I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Memory after memory hit me as I looked all around me. Parties we'd gone to, MCR practices and gigs, funny days at school and so much more. 
There was Mikey, nerdy as ever. He was always the quietest one of the group -- even worse than Bob -- and Frank and I always took great amusement in teasing and bullying him. There was one time that we stole his unicorn plush toy -- Arabella I think the name was -- and held it at ransom. After two days Mikey succumbed and bought us enough coffee and Skittles for us to agree to return the pink unicorn in one piece. A smile spread across my face at the memory and I tried to ignore how distressed the geeky boy now looked, deciding instead to focus on the past and the happy times we had had. 
Bob looked up at me from across the table and waved half-heartedly, an exhausted smile on his face. The purple bags under his eyes showed just how tired he was and I just wanted to envelope him in a huge hug.  My throat burned as tears fought to slip out of the corner of my eyes. This wasn't my Bobbert. This wasn't the same guy I had once spent hours talking to in Frank's basement after band practice, or the one who had joined in spying on Gerard and I when we officially got together. He had changed so much but yet still managed to look like the Bob I knew and loved. 
Gerard sat beside Bob, as if he were avoiding his brother and the disappointed looks he kept shooting at the older Way. He smiled lazily at me and I nearly teared up. So many of my memories of Jersey related back to him. The coffee shop were Lucas worked and I had first met Gerard. The night in his room when I told him all about Fergal and he sang me to sleep. How he told me I was beautiful the night I had gotten raped. I remembered every little detail about him: the way he talked more out of one side of his mouth -- the side he smoked from, the feel of his slightly chapped lips moving softly against mine, that scrunched up expression he got when he was thinking really hard about something, the way his hair was always so soft despite his claims of never conditioning it, and that intoxicating scent that was like a strange combination of coffee, cigarettes, soap and cinnamon. 

After seeing how much they had all changed I made promises to myself to never forget those memories. I'd rather live in the past with them than in the present where everything seemed to be falling apart. 

"Hey May, wanna come outside with me while I have a smoke?" Frankie asked me after a bit and I nodded. I needed to get away for a bit, needed to clear my head. 

We stood outside in the cool Irish air, a light breeze ruffling my hair and making me shiver in my strapless dress. 
Frank lit up his smoke before wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him and resting his head on my shoulder. 

"They're falling apart C," He mumbled and I wasn't sure if he even meant for me to hear. "They need you. We need you."

I sighed and shook my head, "Frankie, it all happened years ago. I'm sure they're all over it by now."

He raised his head and looked me straight in the eye, his hazel orbs swimming with unshed tears, "Do they look like they're over it to you? Do they look like they've been able to cope since you left?"

The tears brimmed over and I pulled him back against me, attempting to comfort him. 

"Toni misses you Ciara. She wishes she could see you once more."

I sniffed back tears. I missed Toni like crazy and Frank knew that, "Tell her to come visit."

He sighed loudly and threw his practically unsmoked cigarette onto the damp ground, the cherry sizzling before going out, "You know that's not what I meant. Come home C, at least for a little while."

It was crazy. I wanted to say no, I wanted to have the strength to say no and stop myself getting attached to Belleville when I returned to it. But, instead, I found myself nodding and Frankie grinning at me like a mad man. 
I waited to take it back. To tell him that I couldn't go back, that I didn't want to face the memories that town held, but the look on his face stopped me. He was so happy to have me coming home. Home. I liked the sound of that. 

"So we'll book you onto a flight for next week when we go into town tomorrow. This is going to be awesome," He squealed and kissed my cheek before launching into some long-ass story about some stupid prank we had pulled on Ray one day. 

Going back to Jersey wouldn't do me any harm. I'd go for a week and then come home to my life in Ireland. How bad could things get? And I was making Frankie happy. Everything was going to be just fine.