Married In My Mind

“I kind of… dropped your lighter somewhere though. Sorry...” he said, letting out a nervous, breathy laugh. I pulled out my phone to shed some light on where I thought he might have dropped it. His scuffed up converse appeared as he shuffled closer to me awkwardly.
“That’s ok. I found it.’ I said, picking up the small plastic device.
I passed him another cigarette and the lighter. He took it reluctantly, his fingers brushed against mine. We had touched a thousand times before but it felt different now. I could feel the both of us calculating the meaning of every movement. It was making everything tense.
He brought the cigarette to his lips and lit it with trembling hands. I watched the flame shakily connect with the end of the thin, white tube. I was relieved he was as nervous as I was, but it made me feel 10 times worse to think it was my fault we were this uncomfortable to be alone together.

“Frank?” I asked quietly. “Are you ok?”
“Me? I’m fine. Totally fine.” He said absently.
“I’m… I’m sorry I’m here. If I’d known you were going to be here I would have stayed home...”
He sucked on his cigarette in silence.
“And I’m sorry about…” I paused, not wanting to admit to my actions in full detail. “I’m sorry about everything.”
“I just don’t get it.” He sighed. “What the fuck, Gerard? I am so fucking confused. I mean you wrote about us like… God I can’t even say it out loud.” He groaned.
“I’m so sorry, Frank.” I breathed, trying to keep my composure. I was so thankful to be having this conversation in the dark. I couldn’t see obvious disgust and he couldn’t see how terrified I was.

"I read what you wrote about me." He paused to let out a slow, careful breath. "Gerard, those aren't feelings I can ever return..."
It hurt to hear him say it out loud. I'd known he was going to say it eventually but nervous, ragged pain still cut through me, destroying the last of the hopes that I'd had.
"I don't care." I lied. "I just want my best friend back. I want you to forget about all this so we can go back to how we were before."
"I can't." He whispered. “It doesn’t work that way.”
"Why not?"
"Because you're in love with me. Am I supposed to just pretend you're not?" I could hear a hint of irritation in his voice.
"I want you to try." I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster.
A silence hung over us as we chose our next words carefully.

"Look. We can't be friends anymore. Or at least, not for now..."
My heart stopped. "What?" I choked.
"I know how you get when someone rejects you, Gerard... And that’s essentially what I’m doing. I'm can’t sit around and watch it happen knowing its my fault. It’s not right. I still want to record an album with you but I don’t want to see you outside the studio."
I couldn't speak. This was going much worse than I had ever imagined.
"Frank..." I breathed, at a total loss for words.
"I gotta go. I'll see around, okay?"

I heard the quiet rustle of his footsteps in the grass but I didn't turn to watch him go back into the house. I stared off into the dark, instead. I didn't want to watch him go. I tried to pretend I didn't hear the swing of the door creaking open or the sound of it clicking shut behind him.

I tried to pretend I didn't exist.
I was doing a great job of pretending until my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I didn't realize I had been crying until I tried to speak. I walked around the house and headed for Mikey’s car. He was already waiting by the passenger side door.
I offered to drive us back to his apartment because he had had a little too much to drink.

“Fuck Frank.” Mikey spat once I’d pulled onto the expressway. “You don’t need him.”
“Thanks Mikey.” I replied miserably.
“I mean it, Gee. Frank’s a fucking asshole. I can’t believe he would say that shit to you.”
“He’s just doing what he thinks is best for both of us.” I mumbled.
“No fucking way!” He yelled. “Don’t defend his sorry ass! He’s a terrible fucking friend. Fuck him.”
It was nice that Mikey also thought that Frank had faulty reasoning, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
“You shouldn’t talk like that, M. I don’t want you and Ray and Bob picking sides. That’s not right.” I told him.
“Whatever.” He muttered, punching on the radio.
We sat in silence the rest of the way home.

Frank kept true to his end of the bargain. In the week that followed he didn’t even bother to contact me. Not once. I told Brian we had talked and the album would go as planned. Mikey was the only one I told about what Frank and I had actually said to each other.
I spent most of the week in bed. Brian had suggested that we postpone practice until the following week just so “everyone had time to calm down”. By “everyone” I knew he meant Frank.
The few times I’d left my apartment had been awful. I’d pass a liquor store and think about going in. I’d been sober for awhile now but since all this bullshit happened I couldn’t remember why I’d bothered in the first place.
Nothing mattered to me.
Mikey said it was just the depression talking and that I had to stay strong. It was easy enough for him to say with a drink in his hand.

But now it was Monday and I was in my standard Gerard-Way-is-20-minutes-late position. Everyone except Frank looked up when I stepped into the studio.
“Hey guys...” I said weakly. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Nothing new!” Bob said cheerily sitting behind his drum set and adjusting the snare.
Frank and Ray were sitting across from one another tuning their guitars. Mikey put down his base and grabbed my arm.
“Gerard. Uh… I need to tell you something really quick.” he mumbled.
“What is it?” I asked blankly.
“Frank and Jamia broke up.” he whispered.
“What?” I said a little too loudly. Too loudly for Frank’s liking…

“Seriously?” Frank called over to us. “I’m right here. Do you guys have to talk about it right this second?”
“I was just trying to explain to Gerard why you’re being such a fucking asshole today.” Mikey snapped, death-glaring at Frank.
“Guys please don’t do this.” Ray whined.
Frank set his guitar down and started towards the door.
“Frank, wait!” Ray called. “Gerard’s showing us some new songs he wrote. Please stay.” He turned to look at Mikey. “Not another word from you, M.” He gritted out sternly.
Frank ran a hand through his hair and sighed dramatically but returned to his seat beside Ray.

I pulled out my notebook and starting going over the new material. Most of the instrumental writing was crafted by Ray. Frank added his parts, making sure not to speak to anyone and to avoid eye contact with me at all costs.
I tried to keep my mind off of Frank’s breakup. I had to tell myself a million times that it didn’t mean anything. But I just kept wondering, why? I was worried about him, not as a person who was in love with him, but as his friend. He’d been dating Jamia forever.
I was terrified by the possibility that it was somehow my fault.

Frank and I quickly found a comfortable rhythm in avoiding each other. We wordlessly made sure to never take cigarette or bathroom breaks at the same time. Mikey made trips to the soda machine for me so I couldn’t bump into him in the hallway. We made eye contact once in the entire day and my heart lurched at the pain I saw in his eyes, mirroring my own. I made sure not to look in his direction for the rest of the day.
I don’t think we could have handled our incredibly awkward situation any more gracefully.

As soon as Bob complained he was tired and wanted to go home we all agreed to call it a day. Mikey escorted me to my car to prevent any awkward run-ins with Frank in the parking lot. It wouldn’t have happened anyways, I'd pointed out; Frank was avoiding me like the plague.

And honestly? It made me want a drink even more.

Notes

hi.
i'm so glad you guys are liking this.
leave me something nice. ; )

thx,
m