Ryan's head was spinning.

In fact, it hadn't stopped spinning since the party and since everyone slowly left until he was left alone in his living room, and that was when he started to cry, and from then on, the difficultly had solely resided in the matter of trying to get himself to stop.

Ryan Ross had no self control and there was nothing like the smack in the face reminder of that in the form of the fact that he still hadn't quite grown the guts to really let Brendon go: he just hadn't the guts to make himself hate the guy, let alone the power to delete him from his life, and god forbid that he actually even considered moving on.

It was just fucked up, and it was just sitting alone on his cluttered living room floor for two hours or until things stopped feeling really - it never quite got to that point: it ended in him giving up, and still he couldn't quite give up on Brendon.

He turned his phone off and threw it behind the sofa: somewhere where he knew he'd never have the motivation to look in, and fuck, by two in the morning, Ryan had concluded that the only good thing to come out of this party was the excess of alcohol littered around his house, and a state such as this, he was all too quick to utilise and take advantage of such a thing.

He'd rather be drunk than sad, but Ryan was just drunk and sad, and that was the absolute worst. At the very least, it fitted his mood, and that was just fucking fantastic.

And still, several hours on, Ryan was still nothing more than fucking fantastic.

Come ten in the morning, Ryan was slightly more sober, but in no way less sad, and in no way less fucked up, and god, all that alcohol had definitely hadn't helped his head, and in fact, it was spinning like crazy, and he couldn't even find any fucking pills to shut up the screaming inside his head.

Ryan wasn't the best when it came to break ups, to say the least, but then again, Brendon wasn't just any kind of asshole disposable boyfriend, and even if it only became clear to him now, Ryan was definitely in love with him, and dear god, that fucking sucked.

And if his headache wasn't killing him enough already, some asshole had decided to ring the doorbell at ten am on a Saturday, when Ryan was in a state close to committing mass genocide: a state in which he was fucked up enough to consider getting drunk again, because that was a fucking great idea, but then again, Ryan wasn't Gee, and therefore wasn't the specialist in fucking great and fucking life ruining ideas.

And he swore that if the person behind the door was Brendon, that he was going to fucking punch him this time, despite the fact that Ryan couldn't punch for shit, but whatever, he'd drank enough in the last twelve hours for that not to matter in the slightest.

With a great deal of reluctance, he eventually found himself opening the door and looking wide eyed up at the girl on the other side: it took him a minute, and that was mostly the fault of the alcohol, but soon enough he came to the realisation that this was in fact none other than Sarah... Brendon's girlfriend.

And Ryan hadn't the slightest clue what to make of this.

"Hey, look, I wouldn't blame you if you hated me, but I honestly had no idea about this, and I really appreciate it if I could just have a few minutes to talk to you - this is driving me crazy and I imagine that it's much the same for you." She sighed out, forcing a smile in Ryan's direction, and leaving the seventeen year old to only raise his eyebrows and shrug in response.

"Whatever, I'm hungover as fuck and I need a distraction from this eternal compulsion to punch myself in the face. Come in."

Sarah thought it best not to question the guy and simply made her way inside, raising her eyebrows a little at the mess, but saying nothing of it, and resorted to just following Ryan into the living room and taking a seat beside him on the floor.

"The sofa's like drenched in beer and I've decided that I'm going to go as long as I possibly can without having to clean that up." He added as explanation in response to the fact that he'd chosen the floor as the best place to sit.

"So, when did you and Brendon get together? Is it alright if I ask you questions about this- I mean, I just need to clear some things up in my head, like hell, this is confusing as fuck, but-"

"Ages ago now, months..." Ryan cut her off, simply charging straight into a response. "I was the new kid at school and I sat next to him in music class and I was the gay kid and he was like the gay king and- well, not so much anymore it seems, but we hit it off, and you know, it was fucking perfect until recently... until... well... I guess everything was perfect until Pete died... that was when everyone fell apart, I guess. Pete was Patrick's best friend... and Pete shot himself about two months ago- and fuck, fuck, fuck-"

"I'm sorry." She grabbed his hand, in turn, his attention, meeting his gaze with a smile, and goddamn, somehow, she was just good at making him feel better and just miraculously making everything alright. "That's horrible. Brendon and I met at this comic book store where I work... like, fuck, I didn't even think about it as so earlier, but it was fucking weird - he kept turning up and just staying there for my whole shift, and then one day I asked him about it and I guess, he was just kind of sweet and kind of awkward about it, so I guess, I just thought it was cute and then we went on a few dates about a month ago and... god, I never even would have guessed that he had a boyfriend, I'm so sorry I-"

"We started arguing a lot recently and I guess it all makes sense now: he never had any time to spend with me and I didn't get it - I thought he was just being an asshole to spite me because I was spending so much time with Patrick after Pete... well... Pete- Patrick wasn't okay, to say the least, he stopped speaking, and he really needed someone, like I was just being a friend, because Patrick really needed one, and Brendon, he just didn't seem to care about Patrick at all and it was weird, I just- I guess it makes sense that he was with you the whole time though."

"I'm so sorry, seriously, you're a really nice guy looking after Patrick like that and you don't deserve this mess at all, fuck, I'm so sorry- I... I just-"

"Look, don't even apologise, Brendon fucked us both here, probably literally too, and it's not your fault... he's just an asshole, and I just- still I can't just wonder about him, because although he is an asshole, he's not just spiteful for the sake of it - there's a reason, there's always a reason, and I can't shake the feeling that there's something more to this, but, hell, I can't bare to speak to him, he'll, I just-"

"I'll talk to him if you like? It's okay if you don't want me to- I mean-"

"No, that'd be... that'd be great." Ryan looked up, smiling for a second. "You know, I can kind of see why he fell for you, you know."

"Stop right there, Romeo, I don't want all the gay guys fucking over their lives by falling for me." She winked, getting up with a smile. "I'll talk to him, though, see what I can do."

"Thanks." And that was the first time in far too long that Ryan was really smiling. 

-

Patrick had left with Joe that night, and he'd left as nothing short of a crying mess: Ryan too distraught to even take much notice of him, and it hurt, it hurt like fucking hell, but he could count on Joe at the very least.

Patrick hadn't managed to stop crying for a long time afterwards, but he'd calmed down a little by the time the two had made it out of the party and into Joe's house, where Joe had insisted that Patrick drank at least seven thousand glasses of water, and Patrick did so - mostly because it was just something to do.

"You're not okay - I can tell that at the very least." Joe sighed out, finally finding a moment to take his jacket off and joining Patrick on the sofa. "Are you going to speak again? Because it wasn't bad, and you know, you don't have to be mute, I think it'd be for the best if you started speaking again, but, of course, it's your choice in the end and don't ever let me or anyone force you into anything, you got that, Patrick?"

He nodded and finished the glass of water.

"I'm sorry that Brendon was enough of an asshole to cheat on Ryan like that and end up ruining your birthday party because of it, that's just so fucking horrible- I... I want to slap him as well, but I reckon he's been slapped just enough today already." Joe let out a half-hearted laugh at that as Patrick only shrugged, eventually seeming to space out while staring at the wall opposite.

"I wish you could tell me how to make this better." Joe sighed out, and Patrick turned, smiling a little as he grabbed his hand. "It's okay, though." Joe added, almost in afterthought.

Patrick shrugged in response, as if to say that the fact that it was okay was really nothing but questionable, which it was.

"I wish I could make this better, but I know I can't, not even Ryan can. Only Pete can, can't he?" Joe sighed out, much expecting the answer in the form of a nod he received, as he'd know Patrick long enough to know that it could never be any other way.

"Pete was a really great guy wasn't he? I'm sad I never knew him, honestly - I want to know just how someone could make you that happy, because god he must be special: you're important, Patrick and you deserve to be happy and this isn't fair - not at all. And I can't expect you to just magically move on, though, of course, it's complicated and messed up and no one can really move on, not really."

"Mikey has." And those were two words that Patrick never should have wasted his speech upon, but they just slipped out, shocking the two of them entirely.

"Patrick-" Joe's eyes widened, almost grinning up at him, because goddamn, Joe was just far too enthusiastic about the fact that Patrick could possibly be getting better.

"Mikey's moved on and I can tell even though no one noticed, because I always noticed- I always noticed everything and in consequence I knew far more about Pete than he ever did, and I can just read it off Mikey: he arrived late with Ray with his hair messed up and smelling just far too much of deodorant sprayed in order to mask the scent of what he'd done, and he was nervous and awkward with Ryan, and Ray got away from Mikey as soon as he could just to hide and conceal anything to cause suspicion and it's not fair because he's okay and in love with Ray and I'm... I'm just... I can't even keep this silence..." Patrick trailed off, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry but I love hearing you talk, it's weird, I guess, but good weird..." Joe's first response was entirely off topic and irritated Patrick just a little. "But look, I don't know enough about Mikey to make any kind of judgement based on this, but what I do know is that Pete wouldn't want you to destroy yourself by hiding away and not speaking - he cared about you and I'm pretty sure this would upset him."

"This is complicated." Patrick pulled his knees up to his chest. "I'm tired and my head hurts."

"You can sleep here- my parents won't mind, and I don't want you to walk home alone in the dark like this, okay?" Joe flashed him a smile but Patrick only shrugged.

"I'm going to go visit his grave." Patrick got up before Joe could stop him and placed the glass, now devoid of water, on the table.

"Patrick, it's dark and it's late and it's not safe and I- I don't want you to go alone, look, in the morning, okay?" Joe got up, grabbing Patrick's arm, but the more ginger of the two, shook him off, shaking his head violently. "Patrick, please-"

"I'm going to go, Joe, you can come with me if you want, but- I'm going, like it or not. It's not your choice, okay?" Patrick pulled on his hoodie and made his way to the door followed by a slightly disgruntled yet sympathetic Joe Trohman, who had rather quickly come to the conclusion that there was far too much in the world that he'd do for Patrick Stump - it wasn't even a gay thing, unlike just about everything else, he just really cared.

The two walked down the road in silence for ten minutes or so before Patrick filled the silence again, and really, Joe was just overjoyed that he was talking enough to generally disregard any unfavourable content of his words. "I should have told him I loved him sooner, before he got with Mikey and then maybe this would have all been okay."

"You can't blame yourself." Joe reassured him with a rather pathetic smile that Patrick didn't particularly care for.

"What I actually should have done was stop being such a coward about everything and actually tell someone that my best friend wanted to kill himself and then told me he stopped cutting but still wore long sleeves everyday and I only pretended not to notice, and I need to stop that- I need... I can't just fade away and stay quiet and let this slide, and I need to talk again and I need- I need to tell people about the things I notice if it could save them."

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea, and I'm really glad you're talking permanently now - I was kind of scared this would all fade away in the morning, because despite how much I care about you, Patrick, it's so much nicer to have someone who says something back, you know what I mean?"

Patrick shrugged in response. "I guess. But about this telling people thing- are you sure, because I... I have two things to tell you about your friends that I noticed and they're bad things and I- I don't want them to end up like- I want to tell you, but I don't want them to be angry."

"Doesn't matter, Patrick, I'll take the blame - just tell me." Joe perked up a little at that, his eyes widening a little as he struggled to guess just what Patrick could possibly be referring to.

"Spencer has some sort of drug problem and Dallon's bulimic. Don't act shocked and ask me if I'm sure - I'm sure and I know, one hundred percent, and I want something to be done about this."

-

"Honestly, I preferred the other one."

It had soon become rather apparent to Bert McCracken that Gee breaking up with Frank in no way ensured that he'd get peaceful sleep before midday again, and in fact the only thing that had changed was the seventeen year old ringing his doorbell at stupid 'o' clock in the morning, asking for that damn asshole of a housemate that he was now considering slaughtering.

"What?" Dallon's cheeks flushed a horrible shade of tomato red as he found himself looking up at the pissed off, greasy haired twenty something year old who looked like he'd much rather punch himself in the face than ever come acquainted with Dallon Weekes.

And Dallon just hated to admit that he was intimidated, and that was just the least he could say.

"The other boyfriend. Frank, you know him? He usually provided some entertainment when he got me out of bed to answer the door far too early, and you just look scared shitless." Bert scoffed as he looked the teenager up and down once again. "I might not even let you in, I mean, this isn't worth my time so why should it be worth yours?"

"Because you're a nice guy at heart?" And it was a long shot and Dallon was nothing but practically shot down for it, but really what else could he expect.

"Bert, fucking let me see him." The two jumped at the sound of a third voice, turning to see a dark haired, rather pissed off looking woman: Lindsey. "And stop terrorising teenagers, will you?" She added, taking note of Dallon's presence.

"At least I'm not the one fucking them, Lindsey." Bert shrugged it off with one final snide comment.

"Yeah, I wonder why no one wants to sleep with someone like you, huh?" Lindsey rolled her eyes, stopping and turning to Dallon. "Hey... you're Dallon, aren't you?" He seemed to fit Jamia's description and unlike Bert McCracken here, Lindsey actually possessed some degree of intelligence.

"Yeah, I- how do you know who I am?" Dallon asked, wide-eyed and utterly awkward, and generally boring, in Bert's opinion anyway.

"I've heard quite a bit about you, and from different people, but I make my own judgement of people, so what my girlfriend said accounts for nothing, okay?" She added with a smile, Bert rolling his eyes as he made his way back down the corridor and back to his bedroom, leaving Lindsey to deal with Dallon, or as Bert had decided to refer to him 'Frank Number Two', because well, in Bert's rather narrow-minded head, he was nothing but that.

"Your girlfriend?" Dallon asked as Lindsey locked the door behind them: something Bert had entirely neglected to do, and she couldn't help but wonder just how they'd escaped being robbed or murdered or anything for years now.

"Jamia - you met her at that party, did you not?" And from that moment on Dallon knew he was utterly fucked, because Lindsey had most definitely not gotten the best first impression of him. "I can tell from that look, yeah, she's a bit... well... she's a bit of a bitch sometimes, but she means well - she really cares about Frank and she only sees you as something that ruined Frank and Gee's relationship, but I know far too well that that's simply not true. Don't worry about her though, she'll get used to you, and if not, I can always talk her round."

"Thanks." Dallon added, his faith in humanity slowly resorted - courtesy of Lindsey Ballato.

"Now we've just got to pray that Gee isn't passed out drunk somewhere because dear god, I don't have the patience to deal with him like that, and I'm a pretty patience person." She let out a chuckle, but Dallon only shrugged with an awkward smile: unable to forget what Gee had told him that night.

"Lindsey..." Gee groaned, looking up from his cellphone as the two made their way into the kitchen; the twenty five year old sat at the kitchen table, looking out into the garden through the window as he smoked what was probably at least his third cigarette, and of course, all while clad in nothing more than an oversized shirt that reached halfway down his thighs, and as Lindsey imagined, but didn't particularly want to find out, no underwear either. 

"Tell Bert to stop being such an asshole when he answers the door, will you?" She asked, rolling her eyes and sitting down at the kitchen table - opposite Gee, leaving Dallon to rather awkwardly take the seat next to her, as he couldn't help but feel anything but utterly out of place here.

"I can't, Lindsey, he's an asshole and he will be an asshole. I can't tell him what to do - he's not a fucking dog." Gee rolled his eyes, only then actually taking note of Dallon's presence, and in consequence, widening his eyes a little, but responding with nothing but silence.

"He certainly acts like a dog." Lindsey added and Gee couldn't help but scoff at little at her comment. "You might want to acknowledge your 'boyfriend's presence now, you know?"

Gee turned to face Dallon, blushing a little. "He's not my boyfriend, we just fucked a few times and honestly he's a nice guy, but- I can't see it working - I care about Frank too much."

"Obviously not enough, seeing as you cheated on him with Dallon." Lindsey couldn't help but add, staring Gee down until he finally gave in and actually civilly acknowledged Dallon's existence. "But whatever you say, Gee."

"Hey Dallon." Gee sighed out, waving awkwardly in the seventeen year old's direction. "About the thing- are you okay?"

Dallon only shrugged in response. "It doesn't just magically get better, but you want me to say 'yes', so whatever, yes, I'm okay."

"What's this thing?" Lindsey knew it wasn't her business, but Gee was already being disrespectful enough to ensure that no matter how nosy she was, it would barely matter at all in comparison.

"It's kind of private... I... sorry... I-" Dallon choked out, turning tomato red once again.

"That's fine." Lindsey assured him with a smile, leaving Gee to look between the two of them with raised eyebrows.

"Lindsey, why are you here?" He asked, speaking cautiously, and almost like he was afraid of her - not that he'd be wrong to be.

"Did you hear what happened at Patrick's party-"

"Yeah, Mikey's been texting me every minute about how I'm such a douchebag for sleeping with Dallon - I'm well aware." Gee rolled his eyes, pulling his knees up to his chest as he offered an apologetic, sympathetic, kind of pathetic smile in Dallon's direction.

"No, do you know about Frank and how fucked up he was? Do you know about how he took every drug under the sun and nearly killed himself in the process? And do you know how Jamia had to single handedly get him to puke it all up so he didn't have to go to hospital? And do you know that was all because of what you did?"

"You're over exaggerating - he got high, so what? He got high and then threw up - it's a party, whatever-"

"No, Gee, she's not... I was there, I-I- I was- when Frank was puking into the kitchen sink, I was there and I saw it and I- he was... he wasn't good: he was absolutely fucked up and Jamia slapped me when I told her my name, but I can kind of see why now." Dallon explained, stuttering just a little as he spoke, and tripping over his metaphorical feet in one big escapade to avoid just what he was doing next to the puke sink in the first place.

"Tell your girlfriend not to slap my boyfriend, Lindsey." Gee snapped out, biting down on his bottom lip.

"You just said he wasn't-"

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"What like when you changed your mind about loving Frank?"

-

Alicia Simmons hated school, to say the least.

It wasn't a passionate, fearsome kind of hatred, though - it was just an ignorant, purposeful nonchalance, because no matter how hard she tried, Alicia just couldn't see the purpose in school, or anything - the default life kind of things, anyway: she had no interest in getting a job, or getting married, or having kids, and really she was beginning to lack the motivation to actually do something with herself.

And with the fact that she hadn't even bothered to show up to school half of the time, she'd been kicked out of the netball team and most people had simply just forgotten that she had ever even existed in the first place, and just like that, Alicia's only friend became Bob Bryar, and really, she didn't care nearly as much as society said she should.

Bob was a nice guy, despite the first impression he gives off, he really was the nicest person that Alicia had ever met, and really, when she thought about it, Bob Bryar was the only person she wanted to be friends with, and Bob Bryar was the only person who deserved to be friends with her - arrogant connotations of the aforementioned statement aside.

But of course, there was one tiny little problem in all of that, and that was nothing more than the fact that Bob Bryar was a twenty six year old drug dealer and most definitely did not go to the school that Alicia was supposed to attend everyday. And today just happened to be one of the unfortunate few in which she hadn't managed to avoid going there, and the first since she had come to the conclusion that Bob Bryar was her only friend.

She really wasn't used to this, to say the least, after all, she'd always had some sort of attention from people at school, even if the majority of it was nothing short of unwanted, but still, she felt weird walking into school alone and then with the fact that no one ever seemed to notice her, and perhaps that was vanity at its finest, and perhaps this was what she deserved.

Perhaps this was what karma gave you for fucking up your life to hang out with a drug dealer that's almost a decade older than you.

But when Alicia thought all hope was lost, she found herself face to face with the only person in this school that could never ever possibly forget that she existed.

"Mikey, hey?" She called out, causing Mikey to stop in his tracks and turn, sending her a smile when their gazes met. She made her way over to him with an awkward blush as she soon came to realise that she had absolutely no idea as to what she was letting herself into when she started a conversation with Mikey Way.

"You haven't been at school in a while, have you?" He asked, glancing her up and down and trying with all his might not to stare at her boobs, but he was a teenage boy and Alicia Simmons was just attractive, so really, there was a great deal of difficulty here.

She shook her head, sighing out and trying not to think about the girl who'd maybe once been her best friend walk past the two of them without as much as a 'hello'. "I-I... I've spent a lot of time well... with Bob, I guess... I just... I don't really want to be here."

"No one does." Mikey reassured her with a smile. "High school is of course nothing more than the world's greatest form of hell. But, you do actually have to show up."

Alicia shrugged it off, knowing that she'd managed to avoid doing so for far too long now. "Anything I missed while I was off?"

"Well, it was Patrick's birthday a few days ago and Brendon and Ryan broke up because Ryan found out that he was cheating on her with this girl called Sarah who's in a punk band with Jamia Nestor, and Frank took far too many drugs and nearly died-"

"Shit, he actually had all that Bob sold him- fuck, he should not have done that. Seriously, is he okay?" Alicia's eyes widened as she came to remember Bob telling her about how Frank had practically paid his rent for the next month, and really, she hadn’t thought all that much of it then, but fucking hell, now, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it for a good few days now.

"Yeah, he's fine, he's kind of depressed because his boyfriend cheated on him, but otherwise, he's good. No one's seen Patrick in a few days - Ryan's heard that he's with his friend Joe, but from then on, everyone's just a little worried." Mikey sighed out, shaking his head. "Everything's fucked up since Pete died."

"I'm sorry." She added, biting down on her lip as she couldn't help but feel like this was somehow her fault, as when Pete and Mikey had been together, she'd always been nothing more than a spiteful bitch to them.

"It's not your fault." Mikey promised her with a smile. "Hey, you're in my history class, aren't you? Walk with me?" Alicia nodded, smiling on the outside, but still, she could never quite shut up the voice on the inside that was screaming at her in protest: claiming that she should never ever talk to Mikey Way again.

"So what's happened with you? Any news?" Mikey asked, keeping it casual, and in turn, incredibly awkward and forced.

"No, nothing much, I guess. With Bob, it's just simple - we talk and eat poptarts and sometimes smoke weed and it's fun- I don't know what's so good about it, it's just him: he's my best friend and despite the fact that he's a twenty six year old drug dealer, he's the best best-friend I could ever ask for. Maybe I'd even date him if he wasn't nine years older than me - fuck society and fuck social rules, seriously."

Mikey only nodded awkwardly in response, focusing on staring straight ahead and not at Alicia's chest, and really, considering that it was him, he was doing pretty well so far, but fuck, there was that wave of nostalgia as he was almost drowned in the memory of that time he'd spent his lunchtime watching Alicia 'play netball' when Ray and Frank where nowhere to be found, and Pete had decided to come up to him and casually insult him.

Fuck, that felt like forever ago, when in reality, it was only a matter of months.

Only months ago, Frank had been off school with Jamia, meeting Gee Way for the first time, Ray had been studying and not fucking Mikey in his spare time, Mikey was uncomfortably heterosexual and more of a douchebag than he liked to think he was now.

And most importantly, back then, Pete wasn't dead.

-

"Frank, it's obvious as fuck, it's as obvious as the fact that Mikey and Ray are secretly fucking-"

"What?" Frank exclaimed, his eyes widening until they were nothing short of the size of the moon, and it was only like eleven in the morning.

"Oh, you hadn't caught on to that yet?" Jamia smirked a little, raising her eyebrows as she turned away, putting the cigarette packet back into her bag, after having lit her own, and taken enough pity upon Frank to let him bum a fucking smoke off her, and mostly in the hope that it'd help keep him quiet.

"No..." Frank sighed out, trailing off a little: his gaze focused on the iron bars school fence in front of them - smoking behind the art block at break time didn't exactly give you the best sight seeing opportunities, but then again, it kept Frank's nicotine cravings at bay for another few hours, so he could over look the shitty-ass view for that.

"Well, okay then, but it's seriously fucking obvious - they keep arriving late to things together, also like Lindsey told me that she saw them kissing at the park the other day, so yeah, I can make my assumptions wisely." Jamia grinned, blowing smoke directly in Frank's face and just for the absolute hell of it.

"So, are you going to blackmail them about it?" Frank asked, eyebrows raised, and wondering just how Mikey had managed to move on from Pete already: he wasn't about to question the guy on his life choices, but he was pretty sure that like four seconds ago Mikey was in a deep state of mourning.

"No." Jamia shrugged it off. "It's going to be a short and messy kind of relationship - I can tell, and that's not something I want to go near with a ten foot pole, I'm not stupid, Frank, I'm not you." And she gained a friendly shove for that smirk, but in her mind, it was well fucking worth it. "Mikey's sad and not thinking straight- well, by dating a guy, he's definitely not, but- he just wants someone who makes the hurt inside go away, whereas Ray really cares about him, and he's not going to be able to deal with the fact that Pete's always going to be first with Mikey."

"I'm not looking forward to cleaning up after that one." Frank sighed out, biting down on his bottom lip, and trying not to think about Gee, and failing fucking spectacularly.

"Yeah, anyway well done, you did a pretty good job at changing the conversation topic, which of course only highlights the fact that you're still stupidly in love with him, and it's killing you, Frank, it's fucking you up and you need to deal with it, because you are becoming almost draining to hang out with and I don't want to have to go through the bother of finding another smoke buddy."

"I don't love him - he cheated on me with Dallon fucking punch me in the face my eyes are brighter than your future Weekes." Frank protested, rolling his eyes, and once again doing a great job of proving just how bad of a liar he was.

"That's an interesting middle name, to say the least." Jamia shrugged it off, chuckling a little. "But, you're totally fucking hung up over him - you either fix this yourself or get over him, okay, Iero? I'm not sorting out your shit for you, again. I'm your best friend, not your mother."

"I doubt my mum would want to do this for me either." Frank added, pouting a little, and taking a moment to wonder just how Mrs Iero would react to the news that Gee had cheated on her son - honestly, she'd probably be more upset than Frank: she really fucking liked him.

"Fucking tragic, Iero, get over it - get yourself together." Jamia rolled her eyes, finishing her cigarette and stumping it out against the sole of her black converse. "I'm going to be dragged into helping you, whether I like it or not, aren't I?"

"Yup." Frank shrugged it off, biting back a grin that would sure to get him a 'friendly' slap across the face from Jamia.

"You're fucking pathetic, you know that?" Jamia shook her head, and resorting to lighting another cigarette, because fuck it, she was going to need it if she was getting roped into this shit. "So, are you going to get over him or pull some pathetic stunt to get him back?"

"He doesn't want me back." Frank shrugged, and making a very painfully obvious sniffle sound, and really he was nothing short of being the new first world problem meme right now.

"Right so, neither? Not helpful, Frank." She rolled her eyes, turning to her best friend and grabbing his hand. "Look, shall we try to fix this and get him back first and then when that plan falls flat on its face you're going to have just accept it and get over him? Okay?"

"Fuck it, whatever." 

"Your enthusiasm is seriously motivational." Jamia pulled out her cellphone, sending a quick text to Lindsey with details of what was now happening, because Lindsey would seriously be far better at this shit than Jamia could even dream of being: the key difference here being the fact that Lindsey actually had some patience whatsoever, and Jamia was an intolerant bitch at the best of times.

"How do I even get him back when he's moved on to Dallon fucking 'the chances of letting you have your boyfriend back are slimmer than me' Weekes, and I'm like a potato with eyes in comparison." Frank groaned out, again utilising his newfound talent in inventing Dallon questionable, yet promising middle names.

"Fucking simple - he cheated on you: he's in the wrong here, play on his guilt, also it's Gee, like buy him a miniskirt or something, whatever." Jamia rolled her eyes, again finding herself absolutely enthralled by Frank's plenitude of intelligence.

"That's like manipulation." Frank protested, his eyes growing wide, and almost like he forgot that he was talking to Jamia Nestor right now.

"And technically so is cheating on you, so it's just getting even with him." Jamia pointed out, raising her eyebrows at Frank, who found himself in serious moral dilemma right now. "Look, Frank, get over it, sort your fucking life out and I'll buy you ice cream on Friday, huh?"

"And if it goes wrong, find me another cute gay guy who will provide me with cigarettes on a regular basis - how about that?"

"Gay guys don't just grow on trees, you know, but I'll try my best, for you Frank, I'll try my best."

And that was just about as far as Jamia stretched when it came to friendship.

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hey guys:) i hope you liked this week's emotional trauma, because it's not even a chapter anymore it's just painful and i'm not sorry:') anyway votes and comments would be rad, also i love you all bc you're all super fucking awesome<3