Counting Down The Days To Go (Frerard)

I stared out the grey-stained windows looking outside from the music room, tuning out Brendon's rambling about his and Ryan's date. It's now been a week since the incident. "We're hoping another week or two," the doctor told me yesterday, but fuck am I terrified. Jamia had to force me out of the hospital last night, because I've been spending all of my time there. His birthday is in three weeks. I have his gift all planned out. Still praying he wakes up by then. It's his eighteenth birthday, and as his fiance/boyfriend I have to make it special for him.
"... yeah?"
I jolted up, Brendon's voice suddenly filling my head. I turned to him, my eyes wide. He pouted.
"You didn't pay attention to any of that, did you?"
I smiled weakly and nodded. He shoved me playfully.
"You could at least pay attention when talking to your friend, asshole!"
The bell suddenly rang, signalling the end of the school day. I jumped up and started stuffing my bag with my notebooks. If I didn't hurry to the hospital, I know Brendon might follow me. And I don't want to explain to him why I'm going there. I had just swung my backpack over my shoulder and was about to walk off when I felt a hand on my arm. I turned around to see Brendon smiling at me.
"You never hang out with me anymore," he told me, "wanna come over to my house?"
My eyes darted around as I lied. "I-I can't. I have tutoring."
He raised an eyebrow. "Tutoring every single day?"
I pursed my lips and turned my head to look at the clock. "Listen, Brendon," I sighed out, "I really have to go." I started walking out of the class, but he tugged on my arm.
"You've been acting weird recently," he said seriously, raising his voice, "tell me what's wrong."
I shook my arm from his grip. "Nothing!" I half-yelled, anger at myself bubbling inside of me. I'm acting weird because my boyfriend attempted suicide because of me. I saw his hands curl into fists, but without replying, he turned on his heel and walked down the hall. I sighed and turned to get stuff from my locker.

As I closed the faded blue door, I heard footsteps behind me. Despite what he did to Frank, Jack wasn't suspended. I think he got detention, but that's all. I'm willing to bet the heavy breathing behind me is coming from him. The chuckle confirmed my suspicions, and before I knew it I was pushed against my locker. Another laugh, and I was turned around to see Jack, smirking. "Your boyfriend isn't here to return the favor, fag," he said, his warm breath hitting my face. Suddenly, my brain kicked in, and I found myself standing up to him. Well, somewhat.
"Please, Jack, just let me go," I whispered.
He laughed again. "Begging, hm? That's a new one."
My head whipped to the side as he punched me, right below my eye. I hissed and squeezed my eyes shut. "Just... let me go," I groaned.
"Tsk tsk." He suddenly kicked my hunched form in the stomach, making me cry out. "Just for today, mmk?"
Holy shit, I thought, that worked.
He grabbed my hair and pulled my head up until I was looking at him. He was grinning ear-from-ear. He spit in my face before letting go of my hair and letting me drop to the floor. He walked off, still laughing to himself.
"Asshole," I muttered to myself. The only good thing about dying is not having to endure this daily. I sighed and forced myself to stand up, one hand on a locker for support and another on my stomach. Thank god I didn't eat lunch today, otherwise I'd be puking it up right now. He's on the football team, gotta have strong legs. At least he isn't a soccer player, I'd be doubled over on the floor right now. I took a deep breath and grabbed my bag, heavier now that it was filled with textbooks. I stalked over to the front doors of the school, checked behind me if anyone was following me, and pushed through the doors to start my trek to the hospital.

I walked up to the nurse's desk in the hospital hesitantly. She was on the phone with someone, and completely oblivious to my presence. "Linda, you don't understand the severity of the situation," she hissed, her left hand curling tighter around the phone. "We don't know. We hope soon, but we are no where near sure." She stopped to listen to whoever was on the other end. "We request you come see him as soon as possible. We need to talk about his health care, the bills, what to do if life support becomes a necessity, and the such." She started tapping her pen on the table. "Mhmm. Yes. Okay. Have a nice day." She sighed and hung up the phone. I cleared my throat and she jumped up, snapping her head up to look at me. "A-Ah. Good afternoon."
"I'm here to see Frank Iero?" I spoke up, my voice small. Kinda hard to talk when you got kicked in the stomach about ten minutes ago. She smiled.
"You must be Gerard, then." I nodded. "His sister was here earlier, told me about you." She handed me a clipboard. I took a pen with a flower taped to the top from a cup on the desk and wrote my name, the time, and who I was visiting. I courteously smiled at her as I put it back in front of her. I already knew the room number, of course. I hurried over to his room, past the rooms filled with people seemingly coughing up their lungs, and crying relatives of the patients, beeping monitors, and those crying out in pain. After a two minute walk, I came to a door marked 322. I took a deep breath, gripping the strap of my bag, before slowly pushing the door open.

Lying on his back on the hospital bed was Frank. The machine next to him beeped every time his heart beat. Like I said, he looked peaceful like this. One arm was tucked under the plain baby-blue hospital sheets, while the other was out in the open with a red-stained bandage covering most of it. His hair was obviously messy at this point, and I would say it was cute if it wasn't like that in the circumstances we are currently in. I softly shut the door before walking over to his bedside. I noticed someone had left his phone on his bedside table, presumably Jamia. I set my bag down and sat in the cushioned chair situated next to the bed. I looked at him and his peacefulness once more before getting a start on my homework.

It was still pouring when I finished an hour later. The beeping was slow but ongoing. I sighed and dropped my chemistry textbook to the floor with a thud. The nurses had learned by now not to randomly come in, so I hadn't been disturbed at all. They walked in on me crying yesterday. I was pretty embarrassing. I stood up and stretched my arms and legs. I was just sitting in a hard chair for an hour anyways. As I brought my hands back down to my sides, my eyes trailed over to Frank. He was in the same position as before, obviously, his breathing still shallow. I hesitantly placed my hand on top of his. Not holding his hand, just putting it on top of his, reminding myself this is actually happening. Not that I want to be reminded, but I know I can't pretend like this isn't happening. I smiled weakly and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Okay, fuck, I'm crying now. I used my other hand to wipe away stinging tears. "I love you," I said, not expecting a response at all. My voice was weak from not speaking, and from being on the verge of sobbing. I really do love him, despite how short a time we've spent together. I hate that we met in the circumstances I'm in, but I--

I guess I should stop fucking pitying myself.

I pulled the chair so it was closer to me and sat down, one hand still on top of Frank's. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the windows created a perfect ambiance, the lighting of the dim bulbs in this room superb. It felt like a movie scene. I wish it was just in a film, that this wasn't real. Fuck, that just made me cry harder. I ran my thumb over his knuckles, admiring the tattoos on his fingers. How I'd love to go back to then.
"Frankie," I sighed out, closing my eyes, "I really do love you." I don't know the point of saying this. It was just a shout into the void at this point. No one is going to answer. "You mean so-- so much to me." I bit my lip, wanting to stop myself but at the same time just wanting to break the nerve-wracking silence filling this hospital room, ringing in my ears being the only noises other than mechanical beeping and shallow breathing. "Please wake up."
I took my hand off of his to cover my face, letting the tears flow. This isn't happening, I know it isn't. Frank isn't in a coma. He didn't try to kill himself. I didn't scream at him. This is just a dream. I'm going to wake up any second now. Or maybe it's like one of those things you see on tumblr. I'm actually in a coma myself, this situation is meant to make me wake up. Fuck, I want so badly to wake up, for this to be gone. And I hope I forget this dream right after I wake up. Wake up, Gerard. This is all a dream just fucking wake up Gerard wake up wake up wake u--

"You too," a voice squeaked.

My eyes shot open, and I looked up from my palms.

Looking over to me was Frank. I could see his hazel eyes were lined with tears. His lip was quivering, but he still smiled. My heart stopped.

He stretched out his arm to touch my cheek. It was a light touch, as if he thought I was about to shatter into a million pieces. Quite the opposite, considering he's the one in a hospital bed. I slowly brought my hand to his, just barely touching the back of his hand with my fingertips. If him being in a coma wasn't a dream, this definitely was. His smile dropped when I didn't reply. He pulled his arm away and sat up.

"... G-Gerard?"

Notes

title is random lyrics from the end. because why not?

xo