Come, Angels of Unknown

As a relatively awkward person, I was used to being slightly uncomfortable in situations I hadn't been previously prepared for.

But nothing could compare to the anxiety I felt as I was sitting there on Katie's couch, my arms around my knees, the clock striking midnight while Frank's eyes were burning into the TV. I wanted him to say something, anything, but I knew that, if he'd had something to say, he would've said it a long time ago.

I thought I was going insane. The guilt and the nausea that had been slowly building up inside my gut since the drive to Katie's got the best out of me, and at one point I just stood up and bolted into the bathroom. I didn't notice anyone following me, but as soon as my head was hovering over the toilet and the contents of my stomach were leaving my mouth, I felt fingers grabbing my hair and pulling it back.

A hand soon rested against my back, reserved, but comforting nonetheless; it helped me get the vomiting done sooner.

"Do you think you can stand up?" Frank said, softly.

I meekly nodded, trying to make my legs work and bring me up to my feet. I managed, somehow, but my knees were weak and I would've collapsed back down if Frank's hand didn't catch my arm and kept me from falling.

"No, I can do it," I tried to shake him off, but he only tightened his grip.

"Let me get you home, okay?"

I wanted to protest, make him realize that I was okay, but the speech I figured out inside my head didn't even pass the point of convincing my own self, and Frank was a pretty intelligent guy. So I looked at him and bit my lip, claiming defeat as he helped me through the hallway. Katie was standing there, a look of concern grasping her features as she turned to Frank. "Is he okay?"

Frank shot a glance at me, his expression unreadable. Maybe it actually was readable, and my head was just spinning too much, I couldn't tell, but the distortion of my vision wasn't really helping my orientation, judgment or balance at that moment. "I'm taking him home. Could you give us a ride? I'd call a cab, but I don't think they'd risk some random dude throwing up all over their car."

I furrowed my brow, feeling slightly disoriented, and my legs wobbled yet again. Frank caught me around the waist and let me lean my head on his shoulder. "I'm okay," I murmured, breathing in the fabric softener from his shirt and thanking God it was neutral enough to keep my stomach relatively calm. My voice was still croaked and hoarse from vomiting, and I suspected they didn't catch when I added, "I can walk, or something."

"Gerard, you're clearly not okay," Katie brushed some of my hair out of my face. "Your skin has a green undertone, you're sweating and your breathing is uncoordinated. I'll drive you two home. Frank, you'll have to give me directions, I don't know where he lives."

I slipped my eyes closed, sleepiness crawling from underneath my eyelids and I felt Frank slide his arm against the backside of my knees and lift them up. I couldn't think about anything in particular at that moment so I just went with it, glad Katie's apartment was located on the first floor of the building.

I remember getting shoved into the back seat of a car, Frank not leaving my side as he let me rest my head on his shoulder. It was probably only so he could prevent me from vomiting all over Katie's car, and the only way to do that is to keep close and be stocked up on paper bags. I didn't mind, though, even if he didn't actually want to be close to me at that moment, I still appreciated it.

I vaguely heard him giving her directions, but I was too lost inside my own drowsy head and the feeling of nausea creeping up my gut again to pay attention to what they were talking about.

I didn't understand why they cared so much, especially Frank, but I was too weak and afraid to ask. Even in that state, when I knew he wouldn't have left me, I still restrained my own mouth from bringing it up.

"There, next to that sign," I heard Frank say, and felt him shift a little so he could point at what I presumed was my building. A few moments later, the car pulled up and I was being shaken awake. Frank had probably thought I was asleep.
"Come on, let's get you out," he mumbled lowly as I opened my eyes a bit, gazing at his blurred face as he gently pulled me out of the car.

Katie told him something before driving off and he responded, but I didn't catch it. I felt the need to throw up again but I managed to shove it back down, hoping we'd get upstairs in time. I absently felt up my pockets, searching for the key to my apartment and digging it out, handing it over to Frank.

"Come on, Gerard, you can do this," he whispered, grabbing the keys from my hand and gently tugging my arm up the stairs. I almost fell a few times but he was there to catch me. I felt weak and the need to throw up returned, so the first thing I did when he unlocked the door was rush into the bathroom.

He followed, once again, gently rubbing his fingers against my shoulder as he was holding my hair. When I was done, I leaned my head against the toilet seat and kept my arm in the air just long enough for my hand to flush the toilet. I shifted my face so I could look at him; feeling slightly better now that the nausea had ceased, and my vision had become somewhat clearer.
His face was pale, slightly paler than usual, his eyes a bit red and his lips chapped and dry. I couldn't believe he was still pretty, even though he basically looked like a total mess. His eyes held a mix of emotions I couldn't nor wanted to read, I was too tired and in too much pain to make myself go through more of it if unnecessary.

He didn't look at me for a long time, after a few seconds he reached up and grabbed my toothbrush, squeezing some toothpaste on it and handing it to me.
"Brush your teeth, I'll get you some pajamas or something," he said and quickly stood up, walking down the hallway and through the door to my room.

I did as I was told, spitting the excess of foam into the sink and rinsing both my mouth and the toothbrush. He came back holding a pair of my old sweatpants and a faded band t-shirt, leaving the room in order for me to change. I did, almost tripping over my own feet in the process, but I managed. I stumbled across the hallway and into my room, finding him opening the window.

"I think you could use some sleep. If you need something, call me. My phone is always on. Not that you don't already know that."

I bit my lip, reluctant to accept the fact he was leaving, but still too scared to ask him to stay. "Do you, uh, have to go?"

He looked at me. "Do you want me to stay?"

I pondered over it for a few seconds, "Yeah."

He looked at his feet, his mouth drawing into a line. "Alright. Sleep now. I'll be in the living room if you need something."

I nodded, knowing there wasn't much I could do about it, pulling the covers over my shoulders and curling up. Then I rememebered. "Frank?"

He turned around in the doorway, "Yes?"

"Thank you."

He looked at me, and it almost looked as if he was about to say something, but he dropped the thought and walked away.

I sighed, not quite sure why, and closed my eyes. I could faintly hear the microwave beeping and the TV making that familiar noise when it'd start up. I bit my lip violently, trying to drive off the urge to run down the hallway and pray for his forgiveness.

I missed him the way he was before I'd fucked things up, I missed his laugh and his stupid jokes and the way his lips felt against my skin. And to know he probably didn't miss the same things from me was what made my hands suspiciously shaky as I blacked out.

Notes

Sorry for the shortness, and any errors/weird formatting. I'm posting this from my phone, and my phone fell into the toilet a few days ago so its functionality is highly questionable. You could even say it's haunted. By the toilet ghost. Or whatever.