Never Coming Home

Gerard POV

I take my first shaky steps out of the hospital boundaries and into the real world. Of course, I’ve been outside a few times, but that was in the hospital’s park. And to be honest, I prefer the hospital’s park. It was less scary than this. It’s not a beautiful cliché moment right now, going outside. It’s grey and smokey.
But my arm’s interlocked with Susan’s. She walks with me towards the taxi. Susan’s been outside often. Every time she’s gone home every night she’s gone outside. So she seems quite protecting. Almost like she’s the dominant other, even for a woman (OOC: Remember, audience, it’s 19fxcking44).
To my left is Frank. His arm is around Lucy’s shoulder, and his other hand is grasping a cane. He was diagnosed with a psychosomatic limp. That basically means that it’s only in his mind. But we’ve been told not to tell him that.
To my right is Ray, gently holding hands with Emily. He’s not smiling like Lucy and Frank. He’s undoubtedly depressed. I’m not surprised. Secretly, I am in rage at Ray. Who wouldn’t be in my situation? He had the chance to save my brother, but he didn’t. I’m hating him. I hope it’s all just temporary. I don’t want to hate him. It’s just…it’s almost become a natural instinct.
Luckily for Susan and I, Susan’s been given a vacation from work. Apparently that’s what you get when you’re a nurse and you’ve finished looking after soldiers, you got a break for a while. Like a reward.
We’ve gotten a lot closer since the kiss. We’ve been…we’ve been lovers. It’s the first time it’s been possible for me since Clara passed away. I think that is a huge leap for me.
We get into the taxi and begin heading home. I have so many mixed feelings about heading home. I’m excited, but in a way, I have a feeling I’m going to miss the easy-going time at the hospital. But all I can do right now is wait…
**********
Frank’s POV
I wake up on the sofa in our flat. My arm is wrapped around Lucy, who’s curled up next to me, still sleeping. I stand up, blinking groggily, and walk over to the office door. I know Gerard is going to be in the office, writing his letter to Jaqueline. I have no clue what his plan to find this girl is, but I feel so bad for him.
I open the door and just as I predicted, Gerard is at his desk, scribbling on his paper with speed, yet in neat writing. In the chair next to him is Susan with a book in her hand. It’s clear she isn’t reading the book to everyone but Gerard, he is too focused on his letter. She’s contemplating stopping him. But everyone currently in this flat knows Susan, she wouldn’t do that. But no doubt she’s thinking about it.
He doesn’t even look up at me from his paper. I pity him so much. He always has a new obsession. But his obsessions aren’t normal addictions like smoking or alcohol. He always puts something on the line. It’s always emotionally undebatable, but practically impossible. And whenever something he works so hard on doesn’t work, his disappointment is unbearable from the other side. Not even imagining what his pain is.
But soon he looks up in front of him. “Finished!” he says, turning to me. “Oh, hello, Frank. When did you get here?”
“I’ve been here.” I say.
“Oh, well, alright. Could you put this in the post for me?” he says, sealing the letter in an envelope and handing it to me.
“Sure.” I say. I take the letter and leave the room, shutting the door behind me. When I walk towards the door to put it in the post box, I wonder if maybe I should do him a favour and rid of it altogether. Stop this from escalating and end it while we still can.
I walk into the living room, towards the fire and get ready to throw it in. Lucy’s still curled up on the sofa, and I wonder to myself if she would let me if she was awake.
Suddenly I hear a voice behind me. “Please don’t.”
It’s Susan. I answer without even turning around. “Susan, he’ll keep at this until there’s nothing left of it. You and I both know that.”
“Please? He’ll be equally as disappointed if he thinks she never replied to him.”
“It’ll end sooner.”
“He’s gone through a traumatic experience. If he gets the disappointment now, so close together with the recent unrecoverable trauma, who knows what he’ll try. We need more time to know how to fix this. Please.”
I shake my head and move away from the fire, walking towards the door. I don’t know what’s pulling my strings, what’s making me actually go along with this, because it’s certainly not my instinct. But I open the door, open the post box hatch, and think, before reluctantly dropping the letter into the post box.

Notes

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