Like the Stars

I remember the aftermath of my break up with her. How people finally started fess up to their feelings toward her. And it wasn’t just my friends trying to get me over her. They looked too bashful; it was obvious that they were telling me truths that I in other circumstances would have denied.

Mikey’s and Bob’s eyes were looking any where but me. We had some how managed to get ourselves into the awkward topic of my last girlfriend, which had lead to a painfully uncomfortable silence.

Mikey was the one who finally broke the silence.

“Heh…to tell you the truth…she was a little bit of a bitch, ya know?”

Bob grinned in agreement, “Yeah, she was always screeching at you, I nearly went fucking deaf! It pissed me off, the things she’d say.”

I chuckled nervously, “Yeah…but a lot of times it was because I did something stupid, or I was being an asshole…”

Bob chuckled, but with his gruff voice it sounded something more akin to a growl, “Why are you defending her? She was horrible to you, she would scream and insult you because you separated clothes wrong for the laundry or didn’t add enough sugar to her coffee!”

I winced. Why was I defending her? She wasn’t really bad, but she wasn’t a good girlfriend either. At least, not enough to defend. Anyways, I was the one to break up with her, so I shouldn’t say anything.

I remember how much I regretted ever getting with her. More so every time told me something about her that they didn’t like. I kept on wishing I hadn’t loved someone so horrible.

I didn’t want it to be like that with Frank. I wanted us to always be together, and if we ever were to part, I didn’t want to regret a single thing, except not being able to hold him for one moment longer.

Breakups. That was another problem. I had broken up with Jessica because I didn’t want a serious relationship. And yet, this made no sense. I loved her, yet I couldn’t stand the thought of having a close relationship with her. And it couldn’t have been lust, because I remember feeling so happy when we would cuddle after sex.

But with Frank…it was always like a one night stand. No cuddling and whispering. One would stay in the room and the other would go to theirs. No words or glances to betray what had happened from the previous night. Because we weren’t supposed to be in love. Not even in lust. I was supposed to be the one letting go and he was the over-supportive best friend who would do anything to help.

Even though I don’t remember when I realized I loved him, I know where.

It was a venue. Screaming fans, flashing lights, pyrotechnics, everything you’d want in a concert.

I couldn’t even remember what song it was. But it was soft and slow. And during this song, I looked over at where Frank’s usual spot was. To my right.

And there he was. To anyone else, he’d look as he usually did. But no one here loved Frank Iero as much as I.

This was why on that day I knew. Because I could tell that no one else could see him the same way I did.

His translucent eyelids were in place of his hazel eyes. It was winter, and he had gotten pale. But, damn, he was shining. I knew it was cold, because I remember seeing a puff of white come out his red lips, and the smoke-like air rising up and curling into different shapes around his head like a halo.

And I knew. Because there wasn’t a word that could justly describe him. I could describe parts of him, and try to string them together, but it wouldn’t be the same. Hasty descriptions of each detail couldn’t even compare to what I was trying to convey. He was more than beautiful, perfect, and gorgeous. It felt wrong to use those words pertaining to a description of him, just because he was so…Frank. He was Frank. And there could never be anything better than that.