Breaking Hearts Still Looks Pretty Cool

Part 9

  It felt like an age until Annabelle and I were left to our own devices again. After the show, we went out for a celebratory drink, and then back to Green Day's bus (infinitely nicer than our own) for an after-after-party. It was like we were surrounded by rowdy band guys the whole time, with no time to ourselves. Every time I saw Annabelle, she looked at me with a kind of longing that I knew had everything to do with the fact that she was dying to discuss the exchange we had had with Green Day in the dressing room.

I woke up the next day to a bus devoid of people excepting Annabelle, who's red hair I could just about spot across the room, sticking out haphazardly from the covers on her and Mikey's bed.

My eyes fell to the empty space in Gerard's unmade bed and I unwittingly let out a little sigh of longing, even though I was half-relieved that I didn't have to look at him before I had a chance to prepare myself properly.

"Are you up?" called Annabelle's voice; it was as though she instinctively knew that I was just stirring.

"Yeah," I called pointlessly, "are you?"

We both chuckled at my stupid question, and I heard the rustling of her bedcovers as she walked over to sit on the edge of my bed.

"Morning," I said quietly, looking at my phone to see that I had a few messages from Reagan and that the time was 1pm.

"Afternoon," she corrected, and I nodded in agreement, "Last night was fun, wasn't it?" she smiled wryly,

"Yeah," I agreed, pulling the covers up to my knees, "I don't know how the guys cope, having to get up early for sound checks and everything,"
Annabelle nodded, "especially Frank," she observed, "He was pretty trashed,"
I chuckled at the memory, "Yeah, and it certainly won't be the last time,"

We both paused, probably both reading the other's minds.

"You know what I'm going to say..." she started, peering up at me with a cheeky sort of look on her face,

"Yes," I sighed wearily, suddenly wanting to be asleep again, "and you know I think you're delusional,"

She chuckled, "You have to admit, it's pretty weird,"

"It isn't," I said quickly. I had been turning this over in my head all night, trying to reach a logical conclusion. Of course, it would have been beyond perfect to imagine that Gerard had waxed lyrical to Billie, Mike and Tre about how amazing I was, but it was far from likely.

Annabelle raised her eyebrow sceptically, "Really?"

"Annabelle," I put on my best 'I'm being serious and logical, so listen to me' voice, "if you asked any of the guys what they thought of us, bar Gerard, they would all say that either of us was beautiful and funny and great, because they're our best friends,"

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish. "But," she stuttered,

"But what?" I asked, rolling my eyes and pulling a hair brush out of my nearby bag,

"I just know it was Gerard!" Annabelle threw her arms into the air dramatically, "I have this gut feeling that it was..."

I said nothing, but hoped that raising my eyebrows ironically before going back to running the brush through my hair would speak volumes.

"People should be who they're supposed to be with," she said, becoming more impassioned by the minute, "you shouldn't make the same mistake that I-" she stopped and looked down. I barely registered what she was saying.

"What mistake?" I asked leisurely, because I could only think of one dire mistake that she had made; and it was one so painful that I did not even want to think about it.

"No-nothing," she said quietly, "I just know that you'll regret it so much if you don't give him another chance," she half-whispered, perhaps anticipating my furious reaction.

"Why are you so hell-bent on matchmaking us back together?" I demanded, but trying not to raise my voice too much,

"I guess I just-" she started,

"I can't get back together with Gerard just to absolve your guilt," I said quietly, determinedly not looking her in the eye.

Annabelle was wide-eyed; we hadn't talked about her and Gerard's betrayal since the day on which she confessed it. I half-glanced down at the pale scar on my thumb as I recalled the memory.

"I know that you feel guilty because you had a part in why we broke up, but nothing that happens now can change that, so you may as well stop trying," I said, and I felt a wave of suppressed fury build up. Of course, it had never been the same between Annabelle and I, but we had managed to let it get almost back to the way it had been; sometimes, when I didn't think about it, it was exactly the same.

Now, as she tried incessantly to push feelings on to me that I thought I might have already, I couldn't help but feel the urge to scream.

She looked shocked at what I had said, and her mouth fell slack. "So you do blame me then," she said quietly, but as though she had guessed it all along.

"I didn't say that," I intervened, immediately regretting what I had said,

"But you meant it," Annabelle whispered, and then she shook her head, a sterner expression coming on to her face, "I hated myself every day for that for years," she said angrily, with tears in her voice, "for what I did to you, what I did to Mikey. I saw both you and Gerard miserable for three whole years, not seeing each other, knowing that it was my fault! Now I see you two together, I know that it would make you happy to be with him again. I just want to make you happy again, Connie," she was sobbing by the end of her speech.

I reached out a hand to touch her comfortingly on the shoulder, and attempt a hug, but she pulled away.

"But if you're going to punish me for my stupid drunken mistakes, then I'll leave!" she snapped, jumping up off of the bed and storming off.

"I'm going to find Mikey," she called, and I heard her heavy footfalls as she walked swiftly off of the bus.

I was left alone wondering if I should ever have said what I said, and what I truly felt about Gerard.