Where I Was Before You

43. agree to disagree

Fred marches upstairs without as much as a glance back at me. What... what just happened?

I trail along behind him and climbs the stairs. I'm watching his arms tense up when he hears my steps follow him. Sorry Freddie, if it makes you mad. But you can't just walk off on me like that. He looked at me when he was at the top, his face actually made me stop climbing. His eyes were so red, red with fury, red with desperation. His forehead was wrinkled and confused, concerned. It broke any vote of pride I had resigned in me. And just like that, he disappeared around the corner, shutting the door, and leaving me in the cold. Frozen on the stairs. Gasping for meaning in all this. What did I do? F*ck, you call me confusing. You can me hormonal, womanly, impossible. But you look at me and my heart breaks. Freddie... oh god, what are you making me do?

I snap myself back to reality and launch up the stairs. Why was I doing this.. what was I doing.. lord help me. Please, anyone, slap me. With sense or just a hand, I'll take either.

i bang on the door but don't wait for his answer, turning the doorknob I push the door open harder than I need it too.

"Freddie." I say, not asking for him, but commanding him here. Fake confidence. Fake it till you make it I suppose.

"Mandy, when someone closes themselves in their room after storming upstairs, it usually means that they want to be alone," Freddie replies in a cynical and uncharacteristic voice. I stare at him, sitting on the bed, crossing his legs and laying against the bed frame. Such a teenager. My teenager.

"Fred, what did I do?" I walk into the room but don't sit down. Not yet. Freddie jerks and rolls his eyes.

"Jesus bloody christ. You can't take a f*cking hint can you?"

"Well no, obviously not!" Freddie moves his legs, to stop himself from getting up, and hugs his knees. His face was red and frustrated. I know why he was mad at me, I think. But I had no idea why he was so emotional. I could handle that kind of thing if he said it to me. Easily. It was like I was dealing with myself when I'm on my period. Happy on the surface, but a fit of underlying anger and bitter sadness showing through the cracks. One hit and I was gone.

"Can you just tell me, what I did wrong?" I plead, feeling my stomach bubble and i want to cover my mouth.

"Were you born without a heart or did you lose it somewhere along the way?" He burned his eyes into my soul. I was in the wrong, looking at him, the upset and emotion shown on his face, there was no way I would be right.

"Excuse me?" I asked, scoffing, pretending that I hadn't already given up on trying to blame him. I folded my arms and tried to hold my ground. This wasn't a conversation. This was a one-sided argument, and Fred was always going to win. He had so many advantages; his face, his voice, his eyes. Oh god his eyes. They could make you feel anything and everything by a simple stare. I felt like a naked child, left alone in the cold.

I know I shouldn't be here trying to feed the flame. I know I should have left Freddie to his room like I usually do, let him cool off and forget about it. Or at the very least just come up and apologised. But I was so confused. how... how on earth was that song about me? Ive been listening to that song for as long as I can remember. I've learnt all the lyrics, I've memorised the chords, I've fussed over it's incredible composition to my friends, time and time again, expecting them to see it how I see it. Expecting everyone else to feel the way I do about this song. How could he have written it here, on my piano?

"You're excused. Get out." No more conviction, no more emotion. He was flat and tired. As I looked at his head, his thin line of a mouth creeping uncaringly across his face, I could feel someone step on and shatter my heart. I had actually hurt him. That's what I wasn't understanding, that's why it wasn't adding up. Freddie actually has feelings. Of course he has feelings, but I never considered that they could be the stupid ones he shows me. His giddy happiness, playful nature, wrathful anger. I knew it was all a ploy, all a way to get me to do whatever he wanted. But he wasn't the puppet master here. We were playing a game, we were playing a game and I was winning. But I didn't want to be anymore. I don't want to have this victory.