Breaking Hearts Still Looks Pretty Cool

It was only a few days later that Frank bestowed a visit on me. When we had returned from a small trip to Starbucks, matching frappucinos in hand, he began to regale me with stories of how happy everyone had been to see me again.

“Did you have fun?” he half demanded. I paused and smoothed my bedcovers down, even though it was rather unnecessary.

“I did,” I half-lied back, “Bob seems like a great guy...” I left my statement open-ended to give Frank the opportunity to elaborate a bit. I was still incredibly curious as to the reason why he sprang into the group.

“He is,” Frank asserted, “he’s great, he fits in like he’s known us for years. Sometimes we get on better with him than we got on with Matt,”

I pondered that statement for a short while, fiddling with the green straw, mixing the whipped cream into my icy drink.

“Why is that?” I asked,

“Well, you know, he could be weirdly intense sometimes...” Frank’s eyebrows creased as he tried to think it through in his own head. I nodded in agreement, but not completely understanding. He opened his mouth to speak again, and I waited with baited breath for a mention of Gerard. I wasn’t quite sure why I was so interested in what differences Matt and Gerard may have had. Maybe it’s because we were all such good friends back in the day. Maybe it’s because, deep down, I was still fascinated with everything to do with Gerard. I wanted to know if he’d changed much, what he liked now, did he still laugh in the same way, did he still have the same mannerisms, and did he still...feel anything for me? I was just curious.

“I guess it was more him and Gerard who clashed,”

That was what intrigued me the most.

“Why?” I asked, trying not to look overly eager, even though I was leaning closer in anticipation.

“Well...” began Frank uncertainly, “I don’t really know...I don’t think anyone does really. They just stopped getting along,”

I felt slightly crestfallen; I had been almost one hundred per cent sure that Frank would have been able to give me a definite answer to the mystery; or at least that he would give me a slightly more interesting one. I was expecting something gossip-worthy, or something that might make my mouth hang open in shock, as opposed to nodding my head pointlessly at something I didn’t quite understand.

“Why are you so curious about it anyway?” asked Frank in an oddly high pitched voice. He was looking pointedly at my laptop instead of me, and sucked his frappucino deliberately noisily. Fleetingly, I got the impression that he was holding something back. I narrowed my eyes at him and cleared my throat to force him to look at me.

“I don’t know...maybe because Matt was my friend as well?” I suggested. That was certainly part of it, but the truth was that I didn’t really know why I was so interested.

“And,” I added, certain that there was a subliminal meaning to the second part, “Matt hasn’t even spoken to me since he left...”

“Got chucked out,” Frank corrected with a slightly evil grin,

“Whatever,” I continued in irritation, “wouldn’t he have called? Even if it was just to say that they’d argued or something...”

Frank laughed at me and shook his head, “well of course he wouldn’t call you or even speak to you, he’s not that stupid!”

I had been starting to allow my mind to veer off topic, but that comment drew me right back into the conversation.

“What do you mean?” I demanded, seemingly catching him off his guard.

“Well, Gerard told him-“ Frank suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth,

I, on the other hand, was positively bouncing up and down with glee. I knew there was more to it than them ‘stopping getting along.’

“What did he tell him?” I asked,

“Nothing,” said Frank quickly. Far too quickly.

“Frank Anthony Iero, you are more like my twin brother than my cousin. I know full well when you’re lying,”

Frank shook his head, seemingly in annoyance at himself.

“Seriously Con,” he said, “it’s nothing...it doesn’t matter,”

He still wasn’t meeting my eye though.

“Then why can’t you tell me?” I asked, slightly immaturely,

“He probably just didn’t want to upset Gerard, what with you being Gerard’s ex and all,” Frank mumbled unconvincingly.

I shook my head, knowing that he was lying. Before I could say ‘come on Frank, tell me the truth,’ he spoke again.

I could feel the hope rising within me that he was going to reveal the truth.

“So,” he said quickly, indicating a swift subject change, and the hope that had been burgeoning with me completely died, “have you considered this tour business any more?”

I frowned; when were people going to stop pestering me about the tour?

“What’s there to consider?” I asked lightly, “it’s amazing for you guys, and I’m really excited for you. I was thinking that I’d come to all the shows you play in New York, and maybe a few others if they’re fairly nearby, I can’t wait! Is it three months away now, or two?” I spoke very quickly, not really allowing him a chance to talk himself. I knew what he was going to ask me, and I knew that my answer would stay the same.

He sighed at me, “it’s two months,” he informed me, “and what I meant was; the invitation’s still there for you to come. And I know that we all really want you to be there with us!”

“Even Gerard?” I asked sceptically, raising my eyebrows at him.

He paused, “yes,” he said, but his voice wasn’t completely firm, “all of us.”

I sighed, “don’t lie Frank, I bet Gerard doesn’t want to be within twenty feet of me,”

“Don’t say that,” replied Frank slightly sadly, “You got along well at the party, didn’t you? He told me you talked,”

I bit my lip; I had been trying to forget about that night.

“Come on, C,” said Frank, “I know it wouldn’t be the same without you, especially for me. I need you there,” his eyes were huge and imploring. I would do anything for Frank, so I found myself virtually teetering on saying ‘yes.’

The truth was that I did sort of want to go; The thought of having the chance to meet Green Day was only the half of it. I was secretly dying to see what it was like to be on tour, and I had been resenting not being able to see everyone for so long. On tour, we would be together pretty much every day for 4 months. Plenty of time to catch up...there was really only one thing holding me back, and it had nothing to do with school. If just speaking to him for less than 5 minutes at a supposed reunion got me thinking dangerous thoughts like ‘I’m not over him,’ then what would it be like stuck with him on a bus for days on end? In short, hell.

“Frank, I can’t,” I said desperately,

“Because you still love Gerard?” Frank asked, looking more curious than knowing, as if it were a genuine question.

“No!” I said automatically, my voice unnaturally high pitched, “Because of school! I can’t drop out for a semester!”

“Really?” asked Frank casually, “because I thought in certain situations, it was allowed.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” I quickly countered,

“Well, I have my sources, and I happen to know that there would be absolutely no problem with you taking a few months out to come on tour with us, and submitting all your work online,”

To my mind, Frank almost had a feline look about him, and at that moment, he definitely looked like the cat that got the cream. It was very easy to see that he had wanted to say that to me for a long time.

“How did you find that out?” I yelped, worry overtaking my mind. I was rapidly running out of excuses not to go.

“Your good friend Reagan made some inquiries for me,” said Frank smugly, “she’s really nice – you’ve got a good friend there,”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “unlike you!” I playfully poked him, not sure of what I was going to say next.

“You probably shouldn’t be so mean to the person who’s taking your ass on tour with Green Day in two months!” said Frank excitedly,

I opened my mouth to protest but then shut it again like a goldfish. What excuse did I have to say this time? There wasn’t a plausible one.

“If you’re not in love with Gerard and he’s not in love with you, and you can leave school for a few months, then what exactly is holding you back?” he was looking at me in a knowing way that plainly said ‘you-know-I’m-right.’

I knew the answer for the question, but for some reason by the words ‘he’s not in love with you' haunted me. I didn’t expect him to be, or even really want him to be, but for some reason the words lingered horribly in my mind. It was hard to hear them out loud. Suddenly, I was overcome with a yearning to be able to hear things like that and not be bothered. I needed to get some closure.

“Nothing,” I answered in a would-be breezy tone, “I guess I’m coming with you then,”

I couldn’t help but grin as Frank leaped up to his feet and punched the air triumphantly,

“I knew it!” he shouted, “I knew I could convince you! Yes!”

He collapsed back onto my bed and enveloped me in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “You won’t regret this. It will be the time of our lives!”

I smiled, but the words ‘he’s not in love with you’ were still reverberating around my head for some reason.
I stuck my chin out obstinately and thought ‘no mate and I’m not in love with you either.’

And I was going to prove it.