Heartbreaker Records

I looked up from my sketchpad and stared out the smudged cafe window. My coffee was still too hot to take a sip. I was out of ideas. Drawing blanks.
I cursed my lack of inspiration. Ideas just weren’t coming to me the way they used to. I sighed and closed my sketchbook. I pulled out a comic I had been reading, praying that character design would come easier if I read for a little while.

I had a weird feeling in my chest. It had been there ever since I had woken up this morning. I thought that maybe it had something to do with passing out on the couch again. But as the morning dragged on into afternoon the feeling lingered.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. A call from an unknown number?
I couldn’t think of anyone who would be looking for me. Mikey had probably broken his phone and gotten a new number again. I sighed and answered it.

"Hiya, you've reached me, but I don't have your number so you can't be important." I teased.
"I'm not important?" the voice on the other line muttered. Definitely not Mikey.
“Uh, who is this?” I asked.
“It doesn't matter. I thought you loved me but now I'm not important. I'll go now, just like when everything went wrong." the voice slurred. They sounded familiar but I couldn’t conjure up a name or face.
"Wait! Tell me who you are, please?" I begged. If I couldn’t put a name to the voice it would keep me up all night.
“I'm just some guy that you had a fling with before it all fucked up. Look, this was a mistake, I have to go." their words slurred together.

My heart stopped.
Frankie? It couldn’t be. No fuckin way.

I tried the name, “Frank?” By the lack of response I knew I had guessed right. I had played this conversation over in my mind a million times before. I had planned out exactly what I would tell him if I ever heard from him again.

But the second I realized who was on the other end of the call it all evaporated. My carefully scripted words of heartbreak and anger vanished like I’d never thought of them before.

“How the fuck did you get my number? What the hell are you calling me for?" I must have raised my voice, a group of people across the cafe all stared at me in unison.
“Look, I've already said this is a mistake, just....forget I called you and go back to your happily married life whilst I sit here wallowing in self pity because my life is hell."

This wasn’t like him at all. I had to ask:
“Are you drunk?”
He laughed. "I wouldn't be even if I could afford the alcohol, mate."
“What’s wrong then?”
He had muttered something unintelligible right before the call dropped.
It sounded like I love you.

But it couldn’t have been. Certainly my mind was playing tricks on me.
“Dammit.” I breathed.

Part of me was relieved it was over. It had taken me years to get to a place in my life where I didn’t think about Frank anymore. Mikey and I had a pact: We didn’t say his name if he came up and we agreed it would be easier on me if I didn’t call him or try to find him.

Part of me craved to hear the sound of his voice again. Just another 30 seconds. That was all I would need. I knew he was trouble but I didn’t care. I mashed the buttons on my phone hurriedly to call him back. My heart raced as I heard the first ring.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
It went to voicemail:
“Frank’s phone. I’m busy shreddin. Leave a message… or don’t!” Beeeeeeeeeep.

“……….Frank? It’s Gerard……” I paused. There was so much I needed to say and I knew it would never fit into a voicemail. He didn’t care what I had to say, anyways. “......Fuck you.” was all I could come up with. I hung up.

I sighed heavily and took a sip of my coffee. I could try calling him again.
Don’t do it. I told myself.
I shoved my books into my bag, grabbed my coffee and left the cafe.

I needed to call Mikey, but I needed to calm down first. Anxiety was still pounding through my veins. Anxiety much thicker than blood. I pulled out a cigarette and headed in the direction of work. I prayed the nicotine would chill me out.
I put on my headphones, trying to drown the thoughts of Frank, but it didn’t seem to help at all.

My mind traveled back in time as I made my way to the record store...

Frank told anyone who would listen that he was my best friend. He was. Everyone in the band had gone out to a bar with another band we were touring with. He and I had been having this great conversation about music theory. Our voices had gotten raw from yelling over the music at the bar so we excused ourselves and headed back to the tour bus. It was parked at a truck stop about half a mile down the road.
We smoked cigarettes as we walked. I was pretty drunk. If memory serves he was drunk too. It was early June and we were going to be on tour all summer so we hadn’t brought jackets, but a cold spring wind had settled over the area. We were shivering by the time we got to the bus.
We made our way to the back where a round couch curled around a table. I wrapped myself in a blanket and started doodling monsters on scraps of paper scattered across the table.
He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and sat next to me.
“Scoot over. I’m freezing!” he whined, pulling the blanket across his lap.
His head rested on my shoulder as I drew a great beast.
“Why do you always draw scary shit?”
“There’s a lot of scary shit in my mind, Frank...” I joked. “It’s gotta go somewhere I guess? Paper seems like a good place to put it.”
He sighed deeply as he thought it over. His breath tickled my cheek.
“Oh my god you’re so warm, Gee. Help me, I’m cold!” He reached his icy hand up the back of my shirt.
“FRANK!” I screamed. His freezing fingers caused the pencil in my hand to zip across the page, leaving an ugly scratch through my drawing.
“Sorry…” he squeaked.
I wrapped my left arm around him and chuckled. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and shivered against me. I started to draw a new creature in the corner of the page.
“I like this one.” he said after awhile.
I turned to smile at him. His big eyes were staring innocently into mine. Our faces were inches apart.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I so vividly recalled his beautiful face. His breath. His hair. His soft skin. His voice.
I stepped off of the curb and was nearly run over by a speeding truck.
Frank would literally be the death of me if I wasn’t careful.

He leaned in, breaking the short distance between us. His lips very cautiously pushed against mine. I was surprised to find that I liked it.
He pulled back, “Gerard. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me...” His lips formed a pouty frown.
I kissed him back not-so-cautiously. I dropped the pencil in my hand and wrapped my other arm around him. I felt his tongue gently swipe against my bottom lip.
I pulled my lips away once I realized what we were doing. I was drunk, I needed to stop. We just sat there looking at each other, not really knowing what to say. He was still tightly curled up in my arms. I could feel my face getting hot. I wanted to run and hide but I couldn’t stop looking at him. I couldn’t move.
“I…” he smiled nervously, “I’ve wanted to do that forever….” His eyes fell. “But we can pretend it never happened if you want.”

I was publicly sobbing at this point. At least the record store was only another block or two.

“It can be our little secret…” I whispered into his ear.

Notes

heyyyyyy everyone,

title taken from "honey this mirror isn't big enough for the two of us"

sorry if it's confusing, the italics are gerard's flashback

so stoked to be writing with Sing it for me, we are truly an evil force of destruction

comment/rate/subscribe if you like it~~~~~~~~

-saaad girl