Breaking Hearts Still Looks Pretty Cool

The final tap of the keyboard on a difficult essay is always the most satisfying. I clicked the save button with a feeling of triumph in the pit of my stomach and a sickeningly smug smirk on my face. At last, the long-worked on Classics essay was done.

“Now it’s just the English essay to go,” I muttered in a satisfactory way. I looked at the Mean Girls dvd that was sitting innocently on the desk next to me.

“But I can do that tomorrow,” I laughed to myself, and put the disk in the laptop.

The shrill vibration of my phone interrupted, and I sighed as I picked up the little buzzing thing. My annoyance was immediately abated by the appearance of Frank’s name on the screen.

“Hello stranger,” I said happily into the tiny handset,

“At last I can get hold of you!” Frank replied, sounding just as excited to speak to me as I was to him.

“Annabelle told me about your exciting news,” I said pointedly, unable to stop my stomach from leaping as I thought about the enormity of the opportunity and the excitement of the situation.

“I know,” said Frank in a darker voice, so that I could just imagine his little face scowling, “I wanted to tell you!”
I chuckled and fiddled with my bedspread, hoping that Frank wouldn’t bring up the me-and-Annabelle-touring-with-them problem.

“And I was pleased to hear from Annabelle that you’re finally going to get over your issue with Gerard!”
I felt like throwing my hands up in the air in desperation at how misunderstood I was. “I have no issue with Gerard!” I half-lied. The truth was that I didn’t even know if I had an issue with Gerard because I never let myself think about him for more than a second.

“Oh you so do,” Frank scoffed,

“Shut up Iero,” I replied rapidly,

Frank spluttered in the way that he always did when he could not think of a decent comeback and then settled on silence.

“Seriously, though, it will be great to see you on Saturday night!” Frank enthused,

“Yeah,” I agreed warmly, my heart positively leaping at the thought. The prospect of seeing Gerard was somewhat grim, but the overwhelming excitement at seeing all of my old friends obliterated my worries.

“But I probably should warn you,” Frank continued in a slightly more ominous voice, “there’s been a change in the line-up,”

I thought confusedly of the band, “What do you mean?” I asked in an inquisitive voice. I couldn’t imagine Ray, Mikey or Frank leaving the band – and I knew for a fact that they would tell me if they were. The idea of Gerard leaving momentarily stunned me; suddenly the idea of not seeing him on Saturday seemed unthinkable. It was like Pandora’s Box had been opened, and I needed to check to see that I was over him.

“We have a new drummer,” stated Frank awkwardly,

I felt the mild shock of surprise, “Why did Matt leave?” I asked, I couldn’t think of a reason why Matt might have left – especially at a point when the band were getting so good and building a following.

“Well – we don’t really know,” said Frank in a similarly awkward voice, “he and Gerard just had a huge argument and Gerard asked him to leave,”

I felt an unjustified stab of resentment towards Gerard; it seemed so typical of him to oust someone else, confident of his own higher level of importance within the group. The trouble was that I knew that that wasn’t Gerard’s personality at all; over the years I vilified him because the prospect of admitting that he was always a great guy was too daunting for me.

“Because Gerard is the boss of the group,” I couldn’t help myself from saying sarcastically,

“He isn’t,” defended Frank with a smile, “but a drummer we can replace, a singer like Gerard is one of a kind,”

I remembered the sound of Gerard’s voice and how it cut through me like an icy knife reminding me of everything to do with him. The shadow of the way that I always had to submit to that sound remained, and when I heard it I was always left in a state of complete confusion with no idea what I should be doing, or thinking, or feeling.

“I suppose,” I agreed reluctantly,

“Anyway,” continued Frank quickly, “what time are you going to come over on Saturday?”

I rolled my eyes to myself, I hated arranging things.

“I don’t know, 7ish?” I suggested,

“Why don’t you come sooner so we can have a twin catch up in the day?” he asked, and once again I could hear the excitement at seeing me in his voice.

“Yeah!” I agreed enthusiastically, “that’d be really good!”

Suddenly Saturday didn’t seem like it would be a complete disaster after all.

“So,” said Frank, and I thought that he was going to ask me what I wanted to do during the day, “do you think you’re going to get back with Gerard?”
My face blanched in the mirror on the wall opposite, and suddenly my hands were shaking and clammy. The very suggestion sent questions and confused thoughts flying around my head, making them unreadable and any sort of decision impossible.

“Shut up Frank,” I said immediately, through force of habit,

“Come on,” he reasoned, “you and Gerard will always have chemistry, and when you see each other-“

I couldn’t stand hearing it any longer, so I cut him off.

“Oh! I’ve just realised I’m late for a lecture,” I lied, “I’ll call you later,”

He snorted derisively before hanging up the phone.

I didn’t dash off to an imaginary lecture, and I couldn’t even bring myself to put Mean Girls in the dvd player. All I could see was a familiar face that I had tried too long to forget.