Young and Doomed | Frerard

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gerard was frozen in place, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were locked on his therapist's, and his hands were shaking so badly that he clamped them into fists in a weak attempt to steady them.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go. This was all wrong.

After dinner last night, Gerard and Frank had gone back to their room, still quite awkward. (But positively less awkward than before Gerard had said he loved Frank). They had sat on Gerard's bed, and he'd put an arm over Frank lightly. He'd been feeling rather sick the entire evening, but decided not to tell Frank, as it was probably nothing.

"What's that for?" Frank asked, glancing up at Gerard.

Gerard shrugged, hugging him closer. "Just incase you were cold." He said, and Frank scoffed, amused. "Mmkay."

"Are you okay with it?" Gerard asked, and Frank nodded, moving closer in a very un-Frank-like way. "Yeah," He nodded. "I'm okay."

"Really?" Gerard smiled slightly, moving forward until he could feel Frank's breath on his nose. Their faces were painfully close not to be touching, and Frank's lashes flitted downward. Suddenly, ice-cold nausea seemed to wash through him, and air seemed to catch in his throat. Gerard could hear the blood in his ears, and his vision was swimming at the edges.

"Really." Frank agreed, closing the gap between them, and that was the last thing Gerard could remember before a black wave crashed over him, and the world went dark.

✰✰✰

He awoke in his bed.

The light outside his window was bright with daylight, and Gerard blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to push away the sharp pain that seared in his head. He tried to sit up, but the pounding in his temples pushed him back into the bed.

"That's no fun, isn't it?" A voice asked. "Take this, they'll help a little." Someone pushed a few tablets of some sort into Gerard's palm, and he swallowed them quickly. As he swallowed, he noticed the thick plastic tube around his nose. Gerard's first thought was of Frank's feeding tube, but he immediately thought better of it. Was he on an oxygen machine? This didn't feel like one, but then again, Gerard wouldn't know.

"Long night, wasn't it, Gerard?" The nurse beside him asked, and Gerard shook his head drowsily. "I don't remember any of it." A dull ache crept through him, and Gerard glanced down to see a sickeningly bloody IV bag leading into his arm. What the fuck was that?

"Yes, that's because you were unconscious." The nurse said matter-of-factly, his green scrubs seeming blindingly bright to Gerard. "It was a long night for us, though. I've been watching you since nine this morning."

The nurse slipped the pressure cuff over Gerard's arm, taking his vitals as the boy lay there. After they were done, he made a low grunt of displeasure. "You're not looking too hot, Gerard." He commented. "We'll check again later."

His head was throbbing with pain, and Gerard was aching for a drink to dull it. They were so close - within arm's reach - but he knew he'd have to wait. It had been at least a week since his last one, but if he got caught now it may as well have been his last.

A woman suddenly walked in the door, her curly black hair almost brushing the top of the doorframe. "Gerard!" She exclaimed as she saw him, walking over. "I'm Dr. Bascule. I don't think we've met in quite awhile; I'm your general physician. We see each other about once a year, but I'm usually on a different floor, with my other patients."

"What happened?" Gerard asked. His vision was clearing slowly, but he still didn't sit up. The cotton balls in his brain seemed to be dissolving, but his stomach was still tying itself in knots.