Only Frankie Knows

i. rowan, whose best friend died on the train tracks

dedicated to sumisilakbo, hehe
thank u for reading !! ('∀｀)♡

i.

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I'm Rowan, Frankie's best friend, and I have a confession.

Three months ago, my best friend Frankie, jumped onto the train tracks and died . . . but there's more to tell.

Naturally, her death caused quite a stir, as it's not everyday that a high school girl commits suicide in your town, specially in the most gruesome way possible: hit by a train resulting to a disfigured body and broken bones. I, her best friend, personally did not want to involve myself any more than I did; I did not want to have the phrase "whose best friend died at the train tracks" stuck beside my name. Not to brag or anything, but unlike Frankie who's a lot more aloof, I actually had friends, so of course I cared about my image and how people would view me as a girl.

Whenever I say Frankie and I are very close friends, people wouldn't believe me at first, and then later on, they would be surprised. I think that's understandable given the fact that we are literally polar opposites, although that wasn't a reason for Frankie and I to become as close as we were. No one knows me as much as she does, and vice versa. We have each other's backs; we balance each other out.

Until that night happened.

I couldn't sleep the first week of her death. A sickening feeling twirls at the bottom of my stomach, way too painful, way too unbearable to ignore. I don't know where it comes from; regret? Sadness? Pain that my best friend is gone? I never had the chance really -- to ponder about my emotions -- or maybe I had, and I did not allow myself to.

Still, I guess, one of the reasons why her death on the train tracks bothers me so much aside from the fact that we were friends is because I'm partially to blame why she died.

I pushed her after all.

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Don't get me wrong -- I genuinely cared for Frankie. How can't I? She was my best friend.

Honestly, I really don't remember how she and I exactly met, but the friendship that we formed anyway is the only thing I find important. If I try to remember, what triggered our friendship was just something really random, and if I'm not mistaken it's because of an album we both liked, then everything went smoothly from there. I can't recall much other than that.

Even if Frankie's outward appearance isn't that exciting and even if she looks pretty basic, she's one of the most interesting people I have ever met. What was within her gloomy eyes and pale, dry lips were her unique approach and insights when it comes to death, life, and everything in between. See, Frankie knows a little bit of almost everything, from politics to extraterrestrial beings to astrology -- she just never runs out of things to talk about -- there was a whole different universe living in her head, and she lives there.

It's funny how people around me often say that she's lucky because I'm her best friend, when in all honesty I think it's the other way around. I feel sorry for those people who think she's just a blob of boredom and social anxiety, those who never saw her depth the way I did. Well, not that it matters because she's dead now anyway.

Until now, I can still feel the thick, cold blood splattered on my face.

It isn't such a nice memory.

Whenever I think about it, I come to realize that it truly is Frankie's fault why I had to push her that night, why she had to die in the worst way possible.

Ever since she said she liked a boy named Seth, I sort of knew things would go downhill.

"Seth?"

Frankie fiddled with her fingers as she sucked on her lollipop, swinging her feet over the edge of our roof. Her bangs were a bit across her eyes, when a week before they were just hanging above her eyelashes. Her hair grew way too quickly.

"Yeah . . . I just think he seems cool."

My heart crushed; it was the first time Frankie had ever talked about a boy. And it was Seth. I didn't know how to react because I don't talk much about boys either, but that was the first time I did.

"Seth . . . I think I know him." I thought really hard. Seth. Seth. Seth. I swung my legs over the roof as well, trying to be in sync with Frankie's. When I looked up, I saw how Frankie's eyes are happily lit up, and the sight of her happiness made me feel nauseous. I bit my lower lip so hard it bled.

I sucked on it.

She put out her lollipop and asked, "what's he like?"

I have no idea why, but that late afternoon, I proceeded to straight up lie about Seth. If there is anything I didn't want to happen, it is for Frankie to have Seth, and I thought that Frankie had to have the wrong idea about him.

"I see," she said with a smile after listening to all the made up things I told her. "Huh."

Frankie is a socially awkward weirdo and I just knew she would never hit it with Seth, but even so, it was the first time I felt such burning jealousy on my chest. Imagining Frankie and Seth together brought me so much inner rage, and I'm usually a kind person too. That day, I did not allow Frankie to talk any more about Seth, as it made me really upset it's insane.

I just wanted her to return to being my best friend.

But for the following days after that, I found Frankie talking more and more about Seth. I looked for ways to pretend I'm listening to her because whenever she says his name I feel like exploding -- the way Frankie lights up whenever she mentions his name angers me to the level I had never imagined.

"Rowan," she said one time, "I think I'm now really into him."

I wanted to sink my fingers deep inside my chest.

One day, I realized I was being a bit too optimistic when I thought that the worst that could happen was Frankie talking about a guy named Seth. When I arrived at school I saw Frankie and Seth sat together, laughing, the morning sunlight upon their faces.

I'm not very good with words, and that morning, the emotions I felt were all over the place. Anger. Perhaps jealousy. An intense, chaotic pang somewhere inside my chest.

Frankie was a nice friend. She knows me and I know her; we have each other's backs and we balance each other out. She was my best friend and I was hers.

I just know that Frankie, my best friend, should never have Seth.

I was willing to go past through my limits to avoid Frankie having Seth . . . although I admit that I think I should have thought things over first. Because of this conviction of mine, everything that followed after that time was nothing I had ever expected, and even if I had, nothing would have completely prepared me for it.

Even so, I don't regret a single thing I did -- every thing I did was necessary for myself and for Frankie. I don't think she would understand that though . . .

Not that it matters. She's dead anyway.

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