"What happened to you?"

A simple question that makes the tears I didn't even know I was holding back flood down my face. I can't say that I even remember the last time I cried. Of course, there was New Year's Eve, but that was different. I was happy then, and the tears I'm letting fall now are those of hurt and frustration. Not to mention the overwhelming urge to go back in time and take back the affection I felt for Emerald, just for a few minutes. Because I feel guilty. And all that would've never happened.

But maybe I'm just being a dramatic bitch. It could've been much worse, it is much worse for so many people. It's not even like I even got hurt. It wasn't a big deal.

But it was a big deal to me.

Frank doesn't miss a beat when he closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around me protectively. "Hey, don't cry, Eve," he says.

I don't think I've ever stopped crying after hearing the words, "don't cry," though. It always just makes things worse; my crying harder. Which is exactly what happens this time, too.

"Did you get my—" Gerard appears in the hallway, but stops short when he sees me.

I look up from where I've buried my face in Frank's shoulder. I may have just ruined sweatshirt. "I-I'm sorry, D-Dad... I f-forgot your coffee."

"It's really not a big deal, don't beat yourself up about it!" Great, now he thinks I'm crying because I forgot his order. "Wait, where'd Emerald go? And what's that stuff in your hair?"

"You got it on me, Eve, what is this?" Frank asks in disgust, backing a couple steps away from me.

"Smoothie." I sniff, wiping my eyes with my hands. I look down at my palms to see they're smeared with black eyeliner. I sigh. "And Em left."

"What do you mean she left?" Gee asks worriedly. "What the fuck happened while you were gone?"

I don't want to start crying again so I take a deep breath before I mumble my reply. "Stuff." I look down at my feet. My right shoelace is untied.

"Stuff?" Frank asks, and I nod in confirmation.

"How about you go get a shower and then we can talk about this stuff?" Gee suggests, and I nod again. This time reluctantly.

I take my shoes off in awkward silence. Gerard and Frank stand still, probably both with the same, predictable questions in mind. The latter steers clear of my path when I walk by him, not wanting to get any more of my smoothie on him. Gee rubs my back in a comforting gesture as I go by.

When I step into the living room I find that we're not alone. Both Ray and Mikey stop mid-conversation to stare at me for a couple seconds.

"Are you okay?" Ray finally asks.

I just shrug and make my way up to my room. I see the two look at each other worriedly out of the corner of my eye, though.

I look even more of a mess than I figured I would, I find, when I look at myself in my bathroom mirror. My rainbow-painted door does nothing to lift my spirits today. My eyes are red from crying, other than the eyeliner smudged around them and even down my tear-streaked cheeks. My hair is glued to my face thanks to my drink, and what's not stuck down is sticking up every which way. My hoodie is a mess, too.

It feels good when I finally step under the hot stream of my shower.

Frank and I go back to the living room in silence and find that Mikey and Ray aren't any more talkative than we are. I sit on the couch next to Mikey, Ray on his other side. Frank sits on the floor for some reason. Once we hear Eve's shower turn on, though, my brother is the first to speak.

"Did we miss something?" he asks, turning to me for answers.

"We definitely missed something," Ray says. "I asked if she was okay when she came in and she wouldn't even say anything."

"I asked if she was okay when she came in, too," Frank chimes in. "She just started crying."

Ray's mouth forms an "O" shape, while Mikey looks down at his hands. "Guess the answer's no," he says.

"Yeah, no shit. She got a drink dumped over her head." Frank finally takes off his sweatshirt that got smoothie on it from hugging Evelyn, to reveal a red tee with the words "New-Fucking-Jersey" scrawled across the front. He tosses his sweatshirt onto the arm of the chair.

"Is that what that was?" Ray asks, making a face, and Frank and I both nod our heads. "And wasn't she with Emerald?"

"Eve said she left," I reply simply. "That's all she said."

"You don't think she did that to Eve, do you?" Mikey asks, a worried expression on his face.

Frank immediately shoots down that idea. "No way," he says, shaking his head. "She wouldn't do that. She's the nicest kid I've ever met, besides Eve. And, you know, those two are in love." He stretches out the word "love".

"She's sixteen," I say, switching to Protective Dad Mode in the blink of an eye.

"She growing up, Gee," Frank feels the need to remind me.

"She's sixteen." I repeat myself more sternly this time, but really, I know he's not wrong. About any of it. "I don't even think they've used the L-word yet."

"No, she's waiting for a special moment," Ray says.

Frank, Mikey, and I all turn to look at him, eyebrows raised. "How do you know all that?" I ask in confusion. I certainly didn't know those details.

"She texts me for relationship advice." He shrugs. "I guess she sees me as the more wise and mature one out of the four of us."

Frank looks like he wants to object, but he can't think of a good argument to that one.

At that the conversation dies down, and right on time, because we hear Eve's footsteps come down the stairs. She appears looking a lot better than she did before. Her hair, still damp from her shower, is clean and so is her face. She's also wearing a Black Parade T-shirt she's had since they came out. Of course, it's old, but she refuses to get a new one even though I could easily replace it.

"Where's Lindsey?" she asks, sitting on the floor cross legged next to Frank. He gives her a quick side hug.

"She went shopping with Jamia and Christa," I explain. She just nods.

She clasps her hands together and starts fidgeting nervously, obviously with a lot on her mind. We, that's to say, Frank, Mikey, Ray, and I all glance at each other, not quite sure of what to do.

Strangely enough, Eve is the one to speak up first. "You can ask whatever it is you're thinking, but..."

"But what?" I prompt.

"I don't know. It's not even a big deal." She stands up again. "It's almost 4. You said you were going to the studio, right?"

"Doesn't matter," Frank says immediately.

"Yeah, don't change the subject on us," Mikey chimes in. "Get back on the floor."

"You get on the floor," Eve sasses, but then takes it back. "No, don't, um." She turns to Frank. "You. Come with me."

"Me?" Frank points a finger at his own chest. "Why?"

"Please, just come upstairs, Frankie. I'm telling you first."

It's hard to pretend not to be disappointed when your daughter chooses to tell someone else about something that's eating her up inside. Nevertheless, I don't object when she and Frank go up to her room to speak in private.

"Now, don't say it's not a big deal, because if it wasn't you wouldn't have come in here cryin'."

Frank tells me as soon as we sit down in my bedroom. I made sure to close the door.

"Are you sure about that?" I ask. "I can be pretty dramatic."

"You're stalling." He points out.

He's entirely right. I don't know why this is so hard, maybe because dramatic is just the thing I don't want to come off as. I look down at my hands, inhaling deeply and exhaling before I finally speak. "Right, so, basically Em and I were in that new coffee shop, just minding our own business at our table. We were just talking and then this shady guy comes over to us. And he knew who I was... because of you guys."

"Did he dump a fuckin' smoothie over your head?" Frank asks incredulously, already having put two and two together.

"Yes, but that part doesn't matter."

"How doesn't that—"

"Because he did it because of me! It's my fault. He watched me kiss Emerald and he wasn't okay with that and so that's what he did."

His demeanour immediately switches from concerned and slightly confused to that of someone ready to throw some fuckin' hands. "That son of a— Eve, you know that's not your fault. You know it's entirely that guy's problem. It's not about you."

"But I—"

"No." He cuts me off firmly. "There are close-minded assholes in this world and you happened to meet one of them today and it is not your fault. Don't let that guy, or anyone, for that matter, make you feel guilty for being who you are."

I pause. "Okay," I say quietly.

As I let his words play in my head over a few times, he asks me one more question. One I can answer easily.

"Why'd you wanna tell just me first?"

"Because you once told me that if anyone ever gave me shit for being gay, to come straight to you."