Forget About The Dirty Looks.

Gerard's POV
I wander down the corridors, trying to find Frankie's doctor. Tears drip off my face, my eyes are sore. I find somebody that looks familiar, so I go up to him. He looks at me expectantly, not paying any attention to the state I'm in. I try to pull myself together enough to speak.
"Are.. y-you Frankie's doc.. tor?" I hiccup a few times, but you can understand me pretty well. His expression goes from confusion to understanding sympathy. He nods his head.
"I-I need to.. to speak to y-you." He nods again and grabs my arm, pulling me into what's presumably his office.
He tells me to sit, so I do and he locks his door. He sits down at his chair and places his hands on the table, linked together. The tears have started sliding down my face again, but I don't bother to wipe them of or to cover the fact I'm crying.
"What do you want to talk about?" His voice is soft and laced with empathy. I look down, trying to compose myself. I'm silent for a while, thinking over some questions.
"What's going on?" My question isn't the most specific of questions, but he seems to get it. He clears his throat before speaking.
"He's very ill. He may not seem it, but he's slowly dying." A choked sob escapes me and I bite my lip to stop anymore unwanted sounds escaping my lips. He takes in the tears and reaches in a drawer and pulls out some tissues. He hands me one, and I gratefully take it, wiping my face and blowing my nose.
"He needs a liver. We can't take parts of it out, it's too damaged. We can't reverse the effects of the drugs, it's too late. The only option we have left is a transplant," He looks at me, and I look back at him. He sighs, shaking his head. "And, finding a liver is proving to be extremely difficult." I nod at him, my tears flowing freely again. "How much has he told you?" I shrug at him, gulping a few times.
"Not much.." He nods, sighing and sitting back into his chair.
"I thought so. He has, at the most, two and a half weeks to live. He has to get a new liver within ten to fourteen days. If he doesn't, the operation won't work and he'll most likely die. His liver is deteriorating fast, faster than it would if there was just the one over-dose, and that therefore means it's much harder to treat." I nod at him. Just as I thought Frankie was safe, this happens.
It's not fair. It's really, really not fucking fair.
"Will he die in pain?" My voice is shaky and the sentence is broke in half by a hiccupy sob.
"As I said to Frank earlier, I'm not one to sugar-coat things," I nod, knowing that if he's saying that, then reality is bad. "Yes, he'll probably die in lots of pain. Unless we shorten his life by giving him copious amounts of pain medication, he'll be in pain from now to the end. He won't be able to move around, eat properly. He's going to bleed really easily, get confused, he'll be sleepy. He'll have jaundice worse than he already has. He'll most likely feel overly depressed as well." He really doesn't sugar-coat things, does he? The harsh reality that I though had already crashed down on me, hits me hard. I rest my head on the table, trying to fight the waves of pain and heart-break washing over me. My chest actually hurts. My shoulders are probably heaving with the effort I'm putting into not making any sound.
The room is silent for a long time while I try to hold it together. Finally, I feel like I can look at the doctor without having my face twisted with pain and I breathe deeply a few times and sit up. Surprisingly, when I look into the doctor's eyes, he isn't judging me. He seems to understand what I'm going through. He smiles at me, passing me another tissue. I take it and wipe at my face. It takes a while for me to be able to speak again, I just can't seem to get over the lump in my throat.
"What if you find an eligible donor?"
"Then we do the transplant." I nod, an idea forming in my head.
"What if that person was right here?" He looks at me in surprise. I nod at him, calmly.
"What do you mean?" I shrug, the idea not yet fully formed. I'm silent for a few minutes, thinking it over in my head. I clear my throat and lean forwards.
"What if I were to donate my liver?" He stares at me, not saying anything.
"Uh... Are you crazy?" I chuckle at him, my spirits lifted at the thought of Frankie being able to live.
"I don't know, probably. But, seriously, what if I were eligible?" He stares at me and shakes his head.
"We'd have to do tests and things..." He trails off, not taking his eyes off me. There's something in them, it looks a bit like.. admiration. "Are you sure about this? You know what happens if you haven't got a liver, don't you?" I nod, but he decides to explain anyway.
"You die, Gerard. Without a liver, you die. You get that, right?" I nod again, perfectly calm.
"It's worth it. If it saves Frankie, it's worth it." He tuts at me, shaking his head.
"You must really love that boy... He loves you, y'know?" I nod my head, agreeing to both statements.
"But it seems like fate doesn't want us together... It isn't fucking fair!" I slam a hand on the table, making the doctor jump with surprise at my sudden change in mood.
"If it isn't me, it's him. And if it isn't him, then it's me. Ever since we met.." I trail off, thinking back to all the situations we've been put through. "I was a dick, he forgave me. Then his fucking dad came along, I tried to commit suicide, I was in a coma. I stated being a dick again, he broke up with me. I slept with other people and took drugs, he tried to over-dose. That then led to this great, big, fucking mess!" I'm out of my chair and pacing around the room. I stop, mid step and try to calm myself down. I sit down, taking deep breaths until I feel in control again. The doctors is looking at me, his face a mixture of surprise and scared.
"I'm sorry... I just..." He nods at me, understanding again. He relaxes a bit and leans forward.
"Gerard, you need to think carefully about this. You need to go away and think, you can't just decide to do something like this in a second. It's literally life or death.. for the both of you." I nod at him, already thinking heavily.
"I know. I'll... Uh, go think about it and then come back." He nods at me, smiling slightly.
"Okay, Gerard. I, honestly, applaud you. This is such a self-less thing. I wouldn't even think about doing it myself for somebody." I nod, getting up and walking to the door. I give him one last look before turning the key and opening the door, walking away.
I don't care where my legs take me, I just switch off and let them guide me. I think about it. I walk around. I think, I walk. I must walk around for hours, lost in my own head. I think about it some more, coming to a decision. I'm going to do it, I have to. But, before I do I want to have some fun.
I check to see if my phone's in my pocket. It is, and it has almost full battery. I head home, a plan forming in my mind. It takes about thirty minutes to walk to my house, all the while I think about Frankie and my plan.
The door is unlocked, and I enter warily. Seeing that nobody's around I let my defenses down and walk down to my bedroom, wanting to reach my printer. I print off several hundred pictures of something, smirking devilishly as I walk back upstairs and out into the neighborhood.
I find several of Craig's friend's houses easily. I've scrawled a message onto the back of every picture I've printed and I'm posting them through the letterboxes of each house. The pictures are of Craig. More specifically, Craig lay down, naked except from his boxers, and tied to the bed with a belt and a very obvious erection.
The messages on the back basically tell them that Craig is gay, and he likes prostitutes that are men. There are other things written on some, but it's more out of spite than anything. I deliver the pictures to about thirty of his friends. They are the ones that don't go to school, the ones he hangs around with that do drugs and shit.
I finish that and head in the direction of the school. I know how to pick a lock, so getting in shouldn't be a problem. I climb over the gate, pulling my hood up so the cameras can't see my face. I get over it with no problem, and the same goes for picking the locks.
Craig is extremely well known in this school. He's Mr Popular. He's on countless sports teams, committees, anything he can do to make him more popular. These pictures will completely ruin his image. They will destroy him, and, honestly, I feel no remorse when I push them into people lockers and post them to the walls. They are everywhere, the hallway walls are covered, in some people's lockers there are several, the actual lockers have them on.
I grab some paint from the art cupboard and think of things to write on his locker. I need it to be good, I feel some sort of primal desire to get revenge. I cast my mind back to when we were actually pretty close. He told me all kinds of secrets. I grab different assortments of paintbrushes, some thick and some thin. I find Craig's locker and start to paint words on it.
When I'm done, there's a collection of things on there that he's told me. Some of my personal favorites being..
He takes steroids, that's how his muscles are so big.
He was willing to pay a man over one hundred dollars for sex.
He takes drugs on a regular basis, not just steroids.
The things written are like that, with varying degrees of truthfulness. Most of it is real, I just stretched it a little to make him seem worse. I should feel guilty, but, I don't. Not one bit of guilt has passed over me, only a joyful feeling of glee. I'm surprised at how much I want this. I've only just realized how much I actually hate him.
I look around at my handiwork, grinning proudly. What else can I do? It's Sunday. Whole school assemblies happen on a Monday, and there's always a presentation. The presentation gets prepared on a Friday, and it's not checked over. I could change it, make it's slides Craig's pictures instead.
Where would they keep it? The Principal's office. I heads down to it, and pick the lock on the door. It opens easily, not even giving much of a fight. I search in his desk, finding the USB in the second draw. I do my thing, upload his pictures onto the presentation and put it back, heading out and locking the door behind me.
When I get out the school, I start to laugh. I laugh so hard I fall to the floor. After ten minutes or so of laughing, I get up and head back to the hospital. It doesn't take me long, the excitement of what's going to happen propelling me.
Instead of heading to Frank's room, I go to his doctor's office. I knock on the door, praying that he's in there. I hear a small 'come in' from inside, and I open the door. The doctor is on his phone, smiling.
"Okay, thank you Father Stephen. Goodbye.." He's on the phone to a priest? He doesn't strike me as the religious type at all. I raise my eyebrows at him, sitting down. He puts his phone away, turning and facing me.
"Have you thought about it? I bet you have, you've been gone for almost five hours.." I smirk, thinking back to what I've done. I nod at him and his face takes on a more serious expression.
"I'm going to do it, I have to." The conviction and stubbornness makes him not question my decision, sigh, and nod.
"Why were you on the phone to a priest?" My question catches him by surprise, making him fumble with his words.
"Uh.. I just.. Uh.." He trails up, looking at the wall hopelessly. "I can't tell you." I nod, the finality in his voice making me leave it and drop the subject. I nod at him, shrugging.
"Okay. I'm going to bed now, bye." I then walk out, hearing a chuckle as I do.

Notes