Frank awoke hours later with a dry throat, a banging headache and aching bones to a beeping sound that seemed further away than it possibly could have been. He knew at once where he was. He knew that he had failed at the thing he had wanted the most. This wasn't the first time he had been in this position. This feeling, these noises, they were all too familiar. A feeling of absolute dread washed over him. He knew he had failed in ending his life, but succeeded in drawing attention to himself. He knew his facade of pretending everything was going okay was now long over and he'd actually have to start talking now, start admitting that things had started to slip. He knew there'd be doctors and questions and his mother's sad eyes.

The thought of this, along with the realization that he had failed so badly and would now have to deal with the consequences caused his eyes to smart and a few stray tears to roll down his cheeks. He felt trapped, terrified, heartbroken. Instead of opening his eyes and having to face all those things that terrified him, he squeezed them closed even tighter, willing himself to fall back asleep. He didn’t want to deal with the consequences of his actions; not now, not ever. He knew he would have to eventually but a few more hours of denial was better than nothing. He wanted to pretend this wasn't happening. He didn’t want to open his eyes to the disappointed face of his mother and the immense pain he was already beginning to feel.

Unfortunately Frank's body didn't get the memo. As if to remind him he was still as sick as he was yesterday, is not more so now, Frank was forced to sit up, suddenly having a coughing fit. The hacking cough made him breathless and feeling like he was about to choke, he pushed his hand against his mouth as if to keep his organs from sliding out of his throat. Feeling the absence of her sons hand from her own, his mother who had been asleep at his side, jolted awake. Although still bleary eyed and sleep deprived, she immediately realized what was happening and filled a glass with water that was on the table beside Frank. She thrust the glass into his hand and began to rub circles into his back, murmuring at him softly as he coughed and spluttered. Frank took a drink of the water and began to stop coughing, thankful his mom had been there.

She took the water off him and placed it back onto the bedside locker beside them. Grasping Frank's hand once again she turned to her son, her eyes filled with worry, hurt and betrayal. A thousand thoughts ran through her head, her mind racing. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things she was afraid to say, so many things she knew she could never say. Instead she swallowed a lump in her throat, choking back tears and tried to smile; an unnatural grin stretched across her face. "Breathe, Linda," she told herself. "He's alive, that's what matters most."
But oh, god he didn't want to be.

"Just make normal conversation for now," she told herself. "Don't freak him out."

"You were sick, huh?" she asked Frank, referring to the coughs that had shook his body only moments earlier. "The school called. You didn’t come in today. Well," she glanced at her watch, correcting herself, "-yesterday really."

"What time is it?" Frank managed to stutter, his head pounding and his body aching after what it had been through. His body was stiff and sore and even the slightest of movements made him cringe. His body was bruised and he felt battered and beaten. Yet, as bad as he felt, he was surprised he hadn't broken any bones, not to his knowledge at least. Apart from his bruised and broken body, he seemed to have gotten out of the crash with few injuries. Lucky in most people's eyes, yet in Frank's eyes, he was horribly unlucky to still be alive. Already he was beginning to resent the harsh, brick wall he had driven his car into only hours before. Like most things in life, it had not lived up to his expectations.

"It’s after 2AM, sweetie," answered his mom. "Someone saw the wreckage and called an ambulance. It had already been a couple of hours though," she told him, tears welling in her eyes as she stifled a sob. "You were there for hours, all alone in the cold. I could have almost lost you," she whispered faintly, her eyes now brimming with tears and splashing down her cheeks. "They only found you a few hours ago. I was still at work, actually." It was only then that Frank noticed his mom was still in her nurse’s uniform. "We got the call in, a young boy in a car crash the ambulance staff said…I never imagined it’d be you coming in. In fact, I just kept thinking, 'I hope we can save him so his mother gets to see him grow up.' And then I saw you and…I just knew what had happened straight away, Frankie. I knew what you had done. I could feel it in my heart. And I just knew..I might never get to see you grow up. Because you don't want to."

She was sobbing at this point, clinging on to her only son's weak and bruised hand. "…You’re lucky to be alive Frank," she continued. "You have a lot of cuts and bruises, and they think you might have a concussion, but you didn’t break any bones or anything...I don't know how. It’s like, I don't know, a miracle or something. I mean, someone obviously didn’t want you to die just yet, Frankie..." She tried to smile but faltered, her face crumpling and her voice cracking as her body shook, wracked with sobs.

"Oh, baby", she cried, her tears choking on all the things she wanted to say but couldn't. She squeezed his hand and faced his tired eyes. "Why’d you do it?"

Frank didn’t have an explanation. Nothing he could say seemed to warrant what he had done. It was selfish and reckless and stupid. He had put his mother through hell for nothing. The guilt he felt washed over him, crushing him. He squeezed his mother's hand with all the strength he could muster, knowing right now, all she needed was his comfort. Linda received his affection gratefully, sinking onto the bed and leaning into her son's embrace. She wanted to hug him tighter than ever, and let him know that she loved him, she needed him, and that she was there for him. However, she knew just how much the bone crushing hug she longed to give him, would hurt her fragile son. Instead, she rested her head in the crook of her son’s neck, and rubbed his back softly. As Linda felt her son's thin and scarred arms wrap around her, all Frank felt was the overwhelming guilt and disappointment that his plan hadn’t worked.

---

On the other side of the hospital, a young psychiatrist named Gerard Way walked up the nurse’s station and stood to fill up his coffee mug. Almost straight away one of the nurses thrust a clipboard into his arms. "Hey man," the young nurse said, "I’m glad I caught you. Head injury and possible concussion. Bed three."

"Wait, wait," Gerard questioned, glancing down at the chart and its contents. "What’s that got to do with me?" He was flustered, already behind with his duties for the night. Although he was a practicing psychiatrist, who had his own office on the other side of town, at times he would help out at the local general hospital when it got extra busy or overcrowded, offering patients or family members an ear for them to voice their worries. Occasionally he would be asked to talk to certain patients to figure out if they needed extra care or counselling. However, Gerard was pretty young. At only twenty two he had recently graduated. It was his first year as a practicing psychiatrist and although it couldn't be denied that he was doing quite well, at times he still felt inexperienced or incapable. "Oh yeah, sorry, forgot to say," the nurse continued. "Suspected suicide attempt we think." The man pulled a face. "He’s just a kid really, it's pretty sad."

"Oh, okay," murmured Gerard, the news saddening him, "Thanks." He hated to hear about suicides, and the fact that some people were pushed to a point where they didn't think life could ever get any better. It was heartbreaking for anyone to hear, but cases like these often affected Gerard more than he liked to admit. He had a shaky past, his teenage years being spent drinking to the point of passing out, and mixing with the wrong crowd; his nights spent lying on the ground crying and wishing for death; his younger brother, Mikey, anxiously watching him but not knowing what to do. He hated the effect his past had had on Mikey. It had pained Gerard to watch Mikey become more anxious and withdrawn as his problems worsened. Mikey often stayed at home, ready to comfort and care for Gerard as he returned home from his nights of binge drinking. He began to turn down offers from his friends to hang out, scared of not being there for his older brother. He hated the thought of Gerard coming home to a quiet and empty house, hated the thought of looking like he was abandoning Gerard.

As Gerard's problems worsened, so did Mikey's anxiety. He began to get scared to leave the house, now not only scared of something happening to Gerard whilst he was out, but also of re-entering the world he had avoided for so long; once again becoming subjected to its judgements and criticism. That was all in the past now; Gerard had been a lot younger then, and Mikey was just a kid. Gerard hated to think of it now, cringing whenever something reminded him of those lonely times and all that he had put his brother through. Instead, Gerard preferred to pretend his problems had never happened. He knew it wasn't healthy, especially in his line of work but Gerard had been covering up his problems for so long now that he didn't know if he could stop it. One thing he could thank his shaky past for, was that it had brought him to psychology. Watching his baby brother torn apart by his alcoholism, Gerard had sworn, once he was better, to help kids like Mikey, and ensure that if someone was feeling as badly as he had done then, he would do his best to help.

Gerard turned away from the nurses station and flipped through the information sheet to learn more about his new patient before he met him. It told him his patient’s name was Frank, a seventeen year old who had crashed his car into a brick wall a few hours earlier in the night. It was being treated as a suspected suicide attempt as those who had arrived to the scene had found no evidence of skid marks before Frank crashed the car into the wall. He was also suspected of self harming as the paramedics had found cuts and scars on Frank's arms and thighs. Gerard nodded to himself and clucked his teeth before coming to look at the family information. Gerard noticed the name of Frank’s mother as Linda Iero, one of the nurses who worked in the hospital. Gerard knew her well and, although it was a long shot, hoped that this was a different Linda Iero, not wanting the kind and hard working woman he knew to be put through something as awful as this.

Unfortunately, Gerard had no such luck. As Gerard approached the bed he had been directed to, he saw his colleague cuddled up to her young son and sobbing quietly. Her son clearly looked uncomfortable at the contact but wasn’t cruel enough to push his mother off him, knowing this was what she needed at the moment. Clearing his throat, Gerard smiled at the pair who looked up at the unexpected noise. Gerard offered a small smile and nod of recognition to Linda, a look that he hoped conveyed his concern and his sympathies, before turning to her son.

"Hey Frank, I’m Doctor Way. You can call me Gerard if you’d like. I work here with your mom. I’d like to talk to you about what happened today if that’s okay with you?"

Frank scanned his eyes over the man in front of him. He looked young, in his early twenties, if not younger. Much too young to be a doctor. At first glance, Frank would have guested that Gerard was someone's brother, or son and was just visiting the hospital. He wore dark black jeans, a white shirt and a black waistcoat, that contrasted with his pale skin, but matched his long, black hair perfectly. If it were not for the name badge clipped onto Gerard's black waistcoat, clearing stating his name and occupation, Frank would have been perfectly fooled.

Doctor Gerard Way. Psychiatrist.

Uh oh.

Gerard gripped a mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. He wore a thick, silver ring on his ring finger and when he smiled, Frank saw a glimpse of his pale, white teeth that looked almost too small to be real. Gerard looked tired and worn out, but also eager to talk to Frank. His eyes were kind and understanding, in a way unlike anything Frank had seen before. Unlike the many doctors Frank had been faced with before, Gerard didn't seem threatening, or brisk and uncaring. Instead, he radiated sympathy and empathy. Frank went against everything he had ever known, and decided to trust him.

Frank nodded reluctantly, knowing that he really had no choice, and shifted uncomfortably, watching his mother wipe the tears from her face and she tried to smile encouragingly at him. Instead, her face looked strained and her smile, ready to break. Frank hunched in on himself and began to pick the black nail polish from his fingers, just wanting to hide away from all of this.

"May I sit?’ asked Gerard, hovering near Frank’s bed. Frank nodded at Gerard without looking up, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible without incriminating himself too much. He wanted to say as little as he could get away with. He knew the more he said, the more Gerard would analyze him. He'd discover that Frank needed help, really needed it. Frank didn't even want to think about what would come after this realization. Frank knew, depending on what he said, he could be sent to therapy, or worse, to a hospital. He told himself he'd have to be careful. In reality, he knew it was already too late to make excuses, or pretend everything was fine. He'd fucked up, and the thought of dealing with the consequences of this terrified him.
Gerard threw a reassuring glance to Frank’s mother and sat on the end of the bed, the bed barely sinking under his weight. Gerard turned towards Frank and looked encouragingly into his eyes, careful to keep the clipboard with Frank’s information hidden, pressed against his chest.

Since Gerard’s arrival, Frank had become even more uncomfortable. He squirmed under Gerard's gaze, scared Gerard was already psycho analyzing him, and was on the way to discovering all his secrets. He held one of his arms with the other, desperately trying to hide his scarred arms from Gerard and his mom, however it wasn't much use. Both of Frank's arms were as bad as each other. Gerard noticed Frank's discomfort and his heart ached for the poor broken boy in front of him. As Linda was his co-worker, Gerard had often heard stories of her beloved "Frankie." He never imagined they would meet like this, in such awful circumstances. Gerard wanted to do whatever he could to help.

" I can get you a hoodie if you want," he quietly offered. Frank raised his head slightly and nodded vaguely in Gerard’s direction without looking him in the eye. He was touched at the offer.

"Alright," smiled Gerard and dipped out of the cubicle. He was back in an instant and pressing a warm gray hoodie into Frank’s arms. "All your clothes were pretty much ruined from the crash. I hope you don’t mind wearing something of mine," he smiled.

Frank shook his head and shrugged the over sized hoodie on, comforted by how it swamped him, making him feel so much smaller and younger than he actually was; so much safer. The hoodie smelled like cigarettes and coffee, two of Frank's favorite things. The familiar smell made him desperate to go home to his bedroom where he could lock his door and be alone, away from the prying questions of Gerard and his mother. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, safe and protected, instead of sitting in a hard hospital bed with both his mother's and an unfamiliar doctor's eyes on him. Straight away he pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over his hands, not wanting anyone to see more than what they already had. Gerard seemed satisfied that Frank was marginally more comfortable and began to ask his questions.

"So Frank, would you mind telling me what happened earlier on tonight?"

Frank didn’t respond, a lump in his throat rising uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how to start. He couldn't organize his thoughts in a way that made sense, that made what he had done seem understandable. He began to pick more aggressively at his nail polish as Gerard and Linda both watched him. The three sat in silence for a minute of two before it became clear that Frank was not going to respond.

Gerard and Linda shared a look before Gerard began to speak again. "I wonder Frank, would you be more comfortable if your mom left the room so you could talk to me about this in private?" This caused Frank to look up. "No, it’s okay," he said, panicked, and scared of being alone. "She doesn’t have to leave…I mean, I don’t want to kick her out..."

"It’s okay baby," his mom reassured him, giving him a watery eyed smile as she got up from the bed and grabbed her handbag. "I could use a cup of coffee anyway. I’ll be back in a few minutes," she slung her handbag over her shoulder and walked towards the door before turning around again to face her son. "Please talk to Gerard, Frank, " she told him. "You're safe with him."

Gerard squeezed her hand as she passed by, noting how drained and defeated she looked.
Much to Frank's surprise, Gerard didn’t make an attempt to speak again, waiting for Frank to answer the questions on his own terms. Gerard was tired and wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed at home but he knew he couldn’t leave this seventeen year old who looked so tired and so lost. Frank needed someone to listen to him and Gerard intended to be that person. He wasn't about to force Frank to speak. He knew that wouldn't solve anything. He simply waited until the younger boy got his words together.

Finally after a minute or so of silence Frank began to speak. "I can't explain...It's just...whatever I say, nothing sounds...Right," he finished lamely.

He sighed, at a loss of how to explain himself. He knew that whatever he could say would not accurately explain the situation he was in. Frank worried that by voicing his feelings they would suddenly become everyone’s business. He didn’t want to let anybody in, didn’t want them to know his thoughts and his feelings. Telling some stranger how he felt didn’t feel right to him. His greatest fear was that by talking about how he felt, his problems would sound so insignificant and unimportant, not like they were at all. Everything in his head was foggy, the pressure of his thoughts were killing him, crushed inside his head and getting more overwhelming by the day. Frank was afraid that by letting his thoughts out of his head, he would infect the loved ones he still had left.

Instead, Frank decided to change the subject. "They said I might have a concussion but like…I don’t have to stay for that, right? I can go home?" Frank looked up at the doctor eagerly. Gerard noted how he looked ready to spring forward and leave the hospital if Gerard gave any indication that he could go. "We won’t know that until the tests come back, okay?" Frank nodded, sinking back slightly into the pillows. "In the meantime I have a few questions for you. How are you feeling? How’s your head?" Frank shrugged. "It hurts. A lot, actually."

"And what about before you crashed the car? How have you been feeling lately?" When Frank didn’t respond except to look slightly guilty, slightly nervous and slightly annoyed, Gerard spoke again. "I’m a psychiatrist, Frank, and I wanted to talk to you about what happened tonight because I don’t think this was an accident. You know when people are going to crash?" Frank nodded, keeping his eyes on his fingernails, his heart thumping. "Well, there are usually skid marks when the person driving tries to swerve out of the way or stop the car. You didn’t do that. I was told there were no skid marks to be seen. Which means....You tried to hit the wall deliberately? Am I right?"

Shit. He'd been caught.

Frank ignored Gerard, burning underneath his gaze, as if refusing to look him in the eye would protect him from his accusations. Gerard refused to give up. Speaking softly he spoke to Frank. "Frank, how would you feel about staying here or a little while? Just for a few days? Then you can really tell me how you're feeling and we can sort out all the trouble in your head. Wouldn't you like that? If all the noise in your head stopped?" This caused Frank’s head to shoot up. With fear in his eyes he spoke to Gerard. "No. No, I can’t stay here. I have to go, I can’t, no-," he scrambled out of the bed and got to his feet, his eyes desperately searching for a way out.

Gerard shot up after him and stood in front of him, holding his hands out in a gesture of comfort and surrender. "Hey, it’s okay," he murmured. "It’s alright. Sit down, Frank." Frank slowly sank down on to the bed once again where Gerard joined him.

"I can’t stay here," repeated Frank. "I have school, I have to be there for my mom. I really need to finish high school, okay. Please. I can't keep messing up, missing days. I need to make my mom proud. I've put her through too much already. She needs me. She's tried so hard, she's doing the best she can and I'm just...fucking up. I can't keep fucking up like this. I need - please, I just need a chance. Don’t make me stay here. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt her. I just need another chance..." Frank broke down crying, his head in his hands. Gerard moved closer to him, rubbing his back gently. "Hey," he murmured, "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, Frank."

Frank looked up after several minutes, his eyes red and brimming with tears. "Please, Dr Way," he begged. "Please don’t make me stay here. I don’t want my life to be fucked up any more than it is right now."

Frank could tell he wasn’t convincing Gerard so he changed his tactic, surrendering himself to Gerard’s control. "Do you have an office?" Gerard nodded, unsure of where Frank was going with this. Frank looked relieved and started rambling, his words running over each other, desperate to convince Gerard of his plan. "Okay, well I could come see you at your office, every week if that's what you want. We can talk there, about anything you want. I could do that. Tonight was a mistake. I lost it, just for a minute. It won't happen again," he gushed, pleading with the young doctor in front of him, totally and utterly at his mercy. "I’ll try to get better, I promise I’ll try. Please just give me a second chance. Please." Frank gripped Gerard’s hand and urged him to give into him with his eyes.

---

In the end, as Frank was still a minor, it was his mother’s decision. Gerard took her aside and spoke to her, talking softly, making his points clear and his feelings about the situation known as well as Frank's. Frank watched nervously as Gerard spoke to his mom outside his room, Gerard's long black hair falling in his eyes as he gently gripped Linda's shoulder and gestured to her son, who was cowering in his bed. Linda stood, listening to Gerard, biting her lip, and wringing her hands, torn. Every fiber in her body told her that her son was sick; he needed to be watched and cared for.

Ultimately, however, her mothering instincts kicked in. As she watched her son sniveling pathetically, looking lost and alone, more than anything she wanted him with her, she wanted to protect him. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go, keeping him safe from doctors and drugs and hospitals. Reassured with the knowledge that Frank would be getting therapy with her good friend and colleague, Gerard, made Linda feel better. There was still niggling guilt and doubt in her mind, but she promised herself this would be the last time that this happened to her son. She promised herself her son would never have to go through this again. She didn’t think either of them could.

It turned out that Frank didn't have concussion so there Linda stood the next day, Frank by her side in the hospital lobby, getting ready to bring him home. Gerard didn't look entirely happy with Linda's decision to bring her son home. In fact, he thought she would have been smarter than that, and only shortly before, had asked her to reconsider. However, as she denied his request for the second time, Gerard had to remind himself he knew nothing about raising children. Instead, he swallowed his pride and tried to get on with his job.

"We’ll release him to you Linda," he told his co-worker, "but I want to see him in my office this week okay? That’s the agreement that we made. I’m not entirely happy with this but it’s your decision," he sighed and handed her a slip of paper. "I want Frank to start taking this, it’s called as SSRI. It’ll help bring the serotonin levels in his brain back to where they should be. He’s feeling so depressed right now because they're so low. Hopefully if these work for him he’ll start to feel better soon. If not we can discuss changing his medication but we'll wait a few weeks first to give them time to work and see how Frank feels. Go get the prescription as soon as possible; I want him to start taking it today. We'll discuss everything that happened today at our first session. Okay, Frank?" Frank nodded dejectedly, watching his mother clasp Gerard's hand and thanking him for all his help.

Moments later, Frank and Linda left the hospital, feeling tired and run down. As they walked past Gerard, Frank began to shrug of his hoodie to give it back to Gerard who stopped him. "You keep it, kid."

Frank nodded gratefully, shooting his now psychiatrist a small smile, hugging the hoodie closer to him as he followed his mother out of the hospital; the lingering smell of Gerard on the hoodie making him feel slightly safer as he left the hospital and re-entered the real world.

Notes

I'm so bad at dialogue wow.
Not overly happy with this but yeah, I hope it's okay?