Chapter 5 - I'm Not The Villain

*JOSH'S POV*

I creaked one eye half-open to see Jenna entering the bedroom carrying a tray laden with an array of jars, mugs and a plate of croissants. The aroma filled the air, making my mouth water. I sat myself up in the bed, running a hand through my hair.

"Hey, handsome," she joked, beaming, placing the tray down on the bed covers. She climbed back in with me, though she was fully dressed.

"Thanks, Jen. This is great."

I was just about to dig in when I remembered where I was going to be at 10 o'clock this morning. It was almost 9:30 already. I withdrew my hand, having reached out to grab a croissant, and gulped.

"Sorry, Jen, I'm actually going out for breakfast today... I'm, uh, eating out with Ryan in Franklin." Ryan Clark was the bassist and backing vocalist in Novel American. I hoped she wouldn't see through the lie. I hated deceiving her, but I didn't know what she would think if she knew I was going to talk to Hayley Williams.

Of course, with Zac... dead (I cringed mentally, but forced myself to think the word), Ryan and I were the only members left; Tyler Ward and Van Beasley had both quit in May 2011. I might as well admit defeat with the whole idea now.

I watched Jenna's face fall and felt the accompanying wave of guilt wash over me. First I was bullshitting her, and now I was blowing her off. Great work, Josh. Torn, I considered the tray of breakfast she had prepared for me and sighed. Jenna looked up, her blue eyes clear and pleading.

"Ah, I'm really hungry. I'll have one anyway," I conceded, taking a bite off the end of a steaming, golden croissant. Despite the delicious smell, it tasted like cardboard in my mouth; I was so nervous. I smiled gratefully even so.

Jenna returned the grin, some of her hair falling over her face. I wolfed down the croissant, feeling slightly sick, and downed a cup of coffee in three gulps.

When I had finished I tucked the hair behind her ear and leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Then I leaped up, pulling on a pair of pants that were lying on the floor over my shorts. I swiftly buttoned up a clean shirt and left the room, not bothering to check how I looked in the vanity by the window. Jenna watched me go, without saying anything, still in bed. I wondered if she could tell I wasn't telling the truth.

*HAYLEY'S POV*

"Dang it," I cursed, tottering along the sidewalk and almost keeling over - nearly knocking over a pregnant woman pushing a stroller in the process. "Cripes! I'm sorry!" I called over my shoulder as I carried on. The woman grunted something darkly, but I didn't have time to stop and apologise properly. As usual, I was running late. Very late.

And I was wearing five-inch heels.

Why did I do this to myself? Was I trying to impress him?

I stopped that thought cold and soldiered on. I was going to twist my ankle, I just knew it. I was sadly inexperienced in walking in shoes of this nature - why I had ever conceived that it was appropriate to wear stilettos to a rendezvous in a café was presently beyond me. Josh had told me to meet him at 10 o'clock, right? It was almost half-past the hour now. He was going to think I'd stood him up; then he'd really never want to speak to me again, and I would lose my last chance.

With a final burst of exertion, I careened round the corner and spotted the coffeehouse directly opposite to the mall, as he'd described. There were a pair of cream patio-style tables outside, sheltered beneath the large old-school red-and-white striped canopy atop the shopwindow, but Josh wasn't seated there. I hoped to God he was inside and hadn't left yet. I crossed the road - narrowly avoiding being run over - and hurtled through the door, flashing a quick smile as thanks to the startled man who was politely holding it open for me. I froze, frantically searching among the customers for the familiar face.

There! Right at the back; he was just getting up, in the process of buttoning up his jacket. He was forlorn - or was it annoyed? - as he prepared to leave. There was an empty cup on the table, next to which was a small tip.

"Josh, hi! I'm here!" I called, closing the distance between us in perhaps the most bumbling way possible. Several people turned around in their places to goggle at the awkward girl with the brightly-coloured hair and fringe that resembled Spock from Star Trek.

His face momentarily brightened, almost as if he was pleased to see me. Then it smoothed out so he was wearing a cultivated, casual expression.

"Josh, I'm so sorry I'm late. I lost track of -"

"It's okay. You never were that brilliant at time-keeping," he noted. I wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult, but then he chuckled and sat back down. Oh, a joke. I followed his example.

A waitress scuttled over to us as I took my seat. I removed my coat and saw Josh do a double-take; I winced as I realised just how overdressed I was. He was wearing bluejeans. Why couldn't I have just worn jeans? I was turned out in my favourite dress: shocking pink - almost luminous, with lots of underskirts, a low scooping neck and spaghetti straps. My lime green nail polish and eyeshadow clashed jarringly, giving me the overall appearance of a walking rainbow.

"Uh, I'll have another cocoa," he said slowly, once he had collected himself.

"I'll have the same, thanks."

The waitress bustled away, leaving the sickly sweet smell of cheap perfume behind. She was attractive - a traditional beauty: button nose, heavy, dark mahogany hair and full lips, but Josh didn't look at her once.

I smirked. "Whipped cream and a Flake?" It was how he had always drank hot chocolate.

"Yep," he half-smiled.

The silence settled quickly on us; Josh cracked his knuckles for something to do before the waitress returned. She did so, after a brief minute or two, and I took a small sip of my cocoa before I decided I was going to have to be the first person to say something.

"So..." I hinted tactfully.

"Right, so, I was going to -" he stopped. I examined his face curiously, and saw he was looking at my lips. He burst into sudden, quiet laughter.

"What?" I asked indignantly, touching my mouth worriedly with my fingertip. Had my lipstick smudged?

He gestured to my upper lip. I stared at him, bewildered. Still laughing, he reached across the table and guided my hand above my mouth. It dawned on me that I had a cream-moustache; I wiped it away, embarrassed, and yanked my arm away from his as subtly as I could. Where his skin had come into contact with mine, I felt a peculiar burning sensation. Stop acting like a hormonal teenager, a small voice in my head told me sternly. You have a boyfriend. He's married, for crying out loud.

Once he had finished making fun at my expense, Josh swigged his drink. "I'm not actually sure quite how to begin," he said. He was the one looking abashed now.

How about: 'I'm sorry for being such an accusing, judgmental sleazeball.' The voice suggested. Or: 'Please forgive me for belittling you and your friends in an online smear-fest.'

"How about... We start with apologies," I phrased a little more graciously.

"Okay." Josh agreed.

There was a long pause while I waited for him to say something. I realised after quite some time that he was looking pointedly at me.

"Me?" I said, aghast. "What about you?"

Josh spluttered. "Me?" He repeated. "Hayley, I think you're the one who needs to -"

"Oh, don't 'you're-the-one-who-needs-to-apologise' me, Josh. You asked me here." I retorted.

His face hardened. "Well, what do you want me to say?"

"I don't know." I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Listen to us. We've only been here five minutes and already we're bickering like schoolchildren."

"You're the one who's only been here five minutes. I've been waiting for half an hour for you to finally decide to show up -"

"Oh, stop it, Josh. This is exactly what I mean!"

Hot, exasperated and fuelled by my temper, I reached behind me to where my coat was hung over the back of my chair; I was making to sling it over my shoulder and get up when Josh caught hold of my arm again. I felt like he had just charged an electric current through my body. Stupid, stupid.

"Hayley, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

I grimaced. "Are we going to talk civilly, or are we just going to keep picking arguments with each other and quibbling until one of us does finally storm out?"

"We'll talk properly. Promise."

Sighing, I straightness my posture and faced him once more. "Alright."

"Maybe I do need to apologise." He allowed, looking down at his mug of cocoa. The cream had melted into a thin, sugary sludge; he dipped his finger in it and licked it off.

"For?" I prompted.

"Being a self-absorbed dick?"

I laughed. "Be serious."

"I am." He said soberly. "I'm not going to roll over and say I'm not still upset about some stuff, Hayley, because I am. But, though it took me long enough, I've realised that if doesn't make me content to be upset, if that makes any sense."

I replayed the confused sentence over in brain and determined that it did. I nodded.

"And I don't want to be upset anymore," he continued. "So even though I know we'll never agree on everything, I don't want this... this antipathy between us anymore. I still believe in what I wrote on that website, Hayley - even if you don't," he spoke over me, raising his voice slightly, but not aggressively, when I tried to object. "But what I do regret is how I went about expressing it. I acted rashly; I made a huge drama out of what I had, in all honesty, originally intended to be a simple decision. It was rude to you - and to Jeremy and Taylor, and I'm sorry. I should have brought all that angst to you privately, not put it up for all the world to see on the Net."

"And I'm sorry too. When you were in Paramore... Well, towards the end, you were unhappy. I tried to ignore it; to act like nothing was wrong. I was so fixated on putting on the bright, outgoing exterior that the fans saw - that the media saw - that I didn't sit down with you, like we are now, and just talked. Maybe none of this would have happened then."

"I don't know. I think it would have done anyway, but perhaps on better terms."

"Perhaps so. But Josh - let me just make this clear, okay? - one of the main points you made in that Blogger post was that you thought Paramore was turning into The Hayley Williams Show, right?" I laughed hollowly. "You thought that I thought it was all about me."

He was uncomfortable. "Yeah."

"Josh... I promise - no, I swear, I never did. You know I never wanted to be a solo artist. I was offered that, but I turned it down; I didn't want to be some Pop Princess. I wanted a band behind me; that's why I value the guys so much - why I hate it when people act like I'm the most important part of Paramore. I'm not, Josh. I'm so not." I realised there were irrational tears spilling out of my eyes. I wiped away the saltwater, feeling frustrated.

"But Hayley -"

"No, listen. Sometimes I am forced into that limelight - because I'm the only girl, because I look good in photo shoots, because I have a big personality - whatever. If... I don't know, if, say, someone interviews me before they interview Jeremy and Taylor, because they're under the impression Paramore is this female-fronted band and those two guys sitting there are just my backup crew... It doesn't go to my head. I just brush it off, because I know Jeremy and Taylor understand I don't think that way. I was never the villain you made me out to be."

It was the biggest speech I'd made to him so far. I watched the gears turning in his head as he contemplated everything I had said, stirring his drink over and over. I sat with bated breath, fearful he would contradict me again. I was so close to breaking down, which was ridiculous, I knew, but it was so emotionally tiring to empty myself out in front of him like this.

Eventually, he pulled his spoon out of the hot chocolate and looked me straight in the eye. I felt like he was diving right through them, into my head and rifling through its contents to find what he was searching for.

"Alright, Hayley." With those two words, I knew I had passed some sort of test. He had accepted what I had told him. He took a deep breath. "Thank you. I -" He stopped himself short, and I could see him debating with himself. He cracked a smile. "I know it will take some time - I'm not expecting any miracles - but... Now we've decided not to hate each other anymore... Does this make us friends again?"

"I never hated you, Josh. I was angry, but..."

"Does it?" He persisted, looking at me through his long, black eyelashes. I was staring into his irises, swimming in their chocolate warmth, losing my train of thought.

Wake up, moron! He's waiting for an answer!

"Um. Sure."

His answering beam was wide, stretching from ear to ear. I felt a huge weight slide off my shoulders: I felt lighter, less burdened. Heat coursed through me - I was smiling too; not just my face, but my whole body smiled.

I'm only human, I've got a skeleton in meBut I'm not the villain, despite what you're always preachingCall me a traitor, I'm just collecting your victimsAnd they're getting strongerI hear them calling

I'll stop the whole world, I'll stop the whole worldFrom turning into a monster, and eating us aliveDon't you ever wonder how we survive?Well now that you're gone, the world is ours