Forget About The Dirty Looks.

Frank's POV
I didn't get any sleep after I woke up from my coughing fit. I got about three and a half hours sleep in total, and honestly, I'm exhausted. I just can't seem to sleep. Whenever I'm with Gerard, I feel calm, but, when I'm not, I feel the nausea you get when you've over-thought and are panicking.
I'm trying my best to keep down the barely edible shit they gave for breakfast, but it's difficult. The 'food' is disgusting... And it doesn't help when I feel like I have snakes in my stomach.
There's a knock on my door, startling me. Martin pops his head around the door, smiling grimly. I wave for him to come in, and he does, followed by Gerard. Gerard smiles at me, taking a seat on one of the chairs by my bed. He doesn't come and sit on the bed anymore, he knows is jolts me and causes pain to go through me.
"Hey, Frankie." He reaches over and brushes some hair out of my eyes, and I reach and grab the hand, entwining my fingers with his. Before I can answer him, Martin starts to speak.
"So, Frank, I understand that you coughed up blood yesterday, and it was quite a substantial amount," I nod at him, not enjoying this conversation already. At the mention of blood, Gerard cringes and his free hand clenches. "Well, this bad. As you know, I'm not one to beat around the bush, am I?" He half smiles at me, trying to ease the tension. It doesn't work. "We over-estimated how long you have left. Instead of two to two and a half weeks, you only have five days," He pauses, letting the information sink in. I lick my lips, blinking, trying to get to grips with the fact that I'll probably be dead in five days, instead of eleven. Gerard grips my hand harder, making it slightly uncomfortable. I don't say anything, knowing how hard this all is for him. "The transplant operation will have to happen soon, as well. The longer we wait, the higher the chance of the surgery not working. But, as you know, we haven't been able to find a donor." He looks slightly uncomfortable as he says that, as does Gerard.
"Best start arranging my funeral, then.." I try to lighten the mood, but it has the opposite effect. Martin pales, Gerard's eyes fill with tears. He blinks them away, turning to stare at me. Martin does the same, and they both look at me shrewdly. I shrug my shoulders, "Sorry.." Gerard sighs and rubs my hand. Martin shakes his head, and we lapse into silence. It's an uncomfortable silence. a somber one. I think all of us are either imagining my death or my funeral, I know I am. Martin coughs, making us both look at him. He's stood up, looking slightly awkward.
"I'm.. going to go. I have to go and get my wife" I nod at him, waving goodbye. He smiles at me and Gerard, and walks out of the door, closing it behind him.
When he goes, me and Gerard sink back into the silence. Neither of us knows what to say, I don't think either of us have anything to say. Gerard's staring into space, a frown on his face, his thumb rubbing my knuckles. We sit in silence for many minutes, me staring at Gerard, Gerard staring into space.
"I'm going to miss you..." I break the silence at the same time breaking Gerard's daze. He snaps his head towards me, focusing his eyes on my face.
"I'm going to miss you, too." A small bitter smile appears on his face as he speaks. I try another stab at humor, wanting to make his eyes look alive again.
"Do you think I'll be able to haunt people? Because, if I can, I'm going to haunt your ass forever." He doesn't change the bitter smile on his face, it just falters slightly.
"Frank, can please stop talking about you fucking dying?" His sudden aggressive tone makes me jump and slide my hand out of his. He looks down at his hand, frowning. "I'm sorry.. I.. It's just.. I really don't want to talk about this, okay? I hate thinking about you dead, it's really... shitty." I nod at him, not looking at him and grasp his hand again. He squeezes it once, and I squeeze back, a smile on my face.
"What do you want to talk about, then?" He shrugs, looking thoughtful.
"Uh.. I don't know... Anything, I don't mind." He smiles a cute little smile at me, shrugging.
"What's your favorite book?" He chuckles at me, making me raise my eyebrows, silently questioning him.
"That was really random, Frankie.." I shrug.
"You said anything..." His smile grows bigger, so does mine.
"I love you." He leans in, pecking me on the tip of my nose. He goes to do it again, but I lift my head up so his lips land on mine. I lean over towards him slightly, but I stop, the pain stalling me and making me pull away. Gerard sighs, and he helps me lean back onto my pillows.
"My favorite book.." He trails away, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "It's probably one of The Lord Of The Rings Books.. I don't really read an awful lot," I nod at him "What's yours?" I shrug, thinking. I haven't picked up a book in months.
"Um.. Stephen King's a really good author, so probably one of his.. Misery.. I liked that a lot." He nods at me.
"What's it about? I've never read it, I've read quite a few of his others, though." I smile, thinking about the twisted plot line.
"It's about this man, an author. He crashes his car, in the middle of a blizzard. When he wakes up, he's in this bed, in a weird house. His leg is completely fucked up, it's, like, shattered from the knee down. The person that brought him to the house is a complete psycho. She's a serial killer, but he doesn't know that until near the end. She was a nurse, and she apparently wants to help him. He's her favorite author," Gerard nods and hums a few times, letting me know he's listening. "And he's been writing this series of books, but in the latest one he killed off the main character, but it hasn't been published yet. The mad woman finds it, and he lets her read it. She does, but she goes mad. She doesn't want the series to end, so she makes him write a book called 'Misery's Return'. She denies him painkillers, she saws off his leg.. It's a pretty gruesome book, to be honest. You should read it, in memory of me.." His face goes tight at my last sentence but he nods anyway. He slaps on a fake smile.
"Yeah, it sounds right up my street.." His voice is strained, and his smile is faltering. I ignore it, knowing he wouldn't want me to point it out.
"Yeah, it is.." I smile at him, squeezing his hand for some comfort. Not wanting there to be silence again, I try to think of something else to ask him.
"Where did you go the other night? When I told you how long I had left.." I mumble the last part, not wanting him to become even more upset. I look at him, and he shrugs.
"I went.. home." I nod, not believing him at all.
"Why?"
"Um... I needed time to.. think?" It sounds more like a question, confirming my suspicions that he's lying.
"Why are you lying to me? Do you have something to hide?" My tone is accusatory, and my eyes are narrowed.
"What? I'm not lying."
"Yes, you are," A thought pops into my head. "Were you with Craig again?" I didn't mean to say that.. He shakes his head indignantly, hurt showing in his eyes.
"No, I wasn't Frank. I wasn't getting fucking drunk or taking drugs, actually. Don't fucking accuse me of something when you know absolutely nothing." Well, I guess I hit a nerve..
"I know nothing because you haven't told me anything! For all I know, you could have been having an orgy or something!" He looks at me, his mouth-open.
"Really, Frank? You really think I'd do that to you on the night you fucking told me you were going to die?" His voice is low, but you can hear the hurt. I sigh at myself internally. I didn't want our last days together to end up in arguments.
"No.. I'm sorry, Gerard. I just..." I trail off, looking at him hopelessly. He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face.
"It's okay, I get it. After what happened last time, I shouldn't be so surprised that you'd jump to conclusions.." The words are meant to make me feel better, but instead I feel worse.
"Can I have a hug? I've missed you.." I open my arms, smiling sheepishly at him. He smirks at me, nodding his head. He wraps his arms around me gently, now sitting on the edge of the bed. I hug him, back, enjoying the warmth of him and his scent. I scoot up a a little, making room for him to come and lie next to me. He does, and he wraps an arms round my shoulders. I cuddle into him side, one of my hands grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He sets his head on top of mine, his cheek resting lightly on the crown of my head. I let out a sigh of content, my body relaxing into his. I feel a pair of lips on my hair.
Gerard starts to hum a familiar tune, one I haven't heard in what seems like years. He's humming 'Asleep' to me, soon he starts to sing. I've missed his singing voice, it's really calming. My eyelids start to get heavy, and I feel myself relaxing even more. He carries on singing, a thumb stroking my cheek.
My eyes close, and Gerard stops singing a while after. I'm not fully asleep yet, I'm nearly there, though. Gerard's arm leaves my shoulders and he starts to slide of the bed. My hand reaches out to try to stop him, and I end up grabbing what feels like his t-shirt.
"Please.. Stay.." My voice is thick with sleep, but he understands and climbs back in.
"Sorry, Frankie.. I didn't want to hurt you or anything... But, I'll stay," He resumes the previous position, kissing my forehead. I smile, my eyes still closed. "Anything for you, baby." He whispers into my hair, making my sleepy smile widen. I fall asleep to him quietly humming, reminding me of my mom.


When I wake up, there isn't anyone beside me. I'm alone, Gerard's left. I look around, and my cheek hits something. It's a note, signed by Gerard. It says that he's gone to buy some 'decent' coffee. He should be back soon, then.
I wait, my eyes closed again. I begin to feel a tickle in my throat, and the need to cough rises up. I grab the glass of water from on the little table beside me. I sip for a minute, but a cough erupts, making me spit out some water.
Once I start, I can't seem to stop. I sit up, the pain shooting up making my eyes water. Every single cough makes me want to cry; the pain I get from the movement is like torture.
My throat feels like I've been deep-throating a chainsaw, and the need to retch makes me stop. I gag a few times, the gags being broken up by the wracking coughs.
Something trickles out of the side of my mouth, and from the smell, it's blood. I cough and retch, bringing up more blood. My hands are soon stained red, the blood's going everywhere.
Gerard walks in, a smile on his face, humming a tune. As soon as he hears and sees me, the cups he's holding are dropped. He stands in the doorway, frozen on the spot. I'm still coughing, but they're weaker than before. I think the bloods stopped flowing, as well.
Gerard snaps out of his trance, and he grabs some tissues from the bathroom and tries to help me. He's breathing heavily, his movement frantic. He keep mumbling curses under his breath, and every time some of the blood gets on him, his hands stop for a second and he stares at them.
I've stopped coughing by now, my throat is really fucking sore. My breathing's labored, and my stomach and sides feel like they're on fucking fire. I can see Gerard struggling with what he's doing, so I grab the tissues off him, and I try to send a comforting smile, which fails.
Gerard goes and stands in the corner, his forehead pressed against the wall. I look at him from the corner of my eyes while mopping up the blood. He keeps looking at his bloody hands, which are shaking. He's keeping them away from his body. He's totally freaking out over there, and I can't stop him.
I remember the help button to the side of me, and I press it, hoping a nurse comes quickly. I look back to the corner, but he's not there. I hear running water, so I guess he's in the bathroom. I try to shout him, but all that comes out is a painful whisper.
Great, I can't fucking speak.
The nurse comes in, stopping in the doorway.
"Oh, dear. What's happened in here?" I make gesture to my throat, trying to tell her I can't talk. Gerard walks out, his eyes rimmed red. He's been crying, and he's also been scrubbing at his hands. They're red raw, almost to the point of bleeding. He looks at me, then at the nurse.
"He can't speak, he's just coughed until he bled, again." Gerard sounds distant, his eyes are faraway. The nurse nods, noticing Gerard's hands and odd behavior, too.
"Okay, well, let's get you cleaned up, then shall we?" I nod at her, trying not to swallow. She goes into the bathroom, the tap runs again. She comes back into the room, carrying a bowl of water and a cloth. She sets the on the table by the bed and sits in the chair. She wets the cloth and starts cleaning me up. When I'm all clean, she turns to Gerard, who's standing unsteadily on his feet.
"Are you okay, sir?" Gerard nods, not looking at her even. She stares at him for a few seconds before getting up, flashing me a small smile, grabbing the bowl and cloth, and then leaving.
There's silence for a few minutes.
"Gee?" Shit, I really shouldn't have attempted to talk. It came out as a tiny little whisper, but my throat feels like I've swallowed acid. His head turns to me, but his eyes look straight through me. He nods. I gesture for him to come and sit down, not daring to talk again.
"I'm fine." His voice is monotonous. He must have know what I was going to say. I shake my head at him, making him sigh.
"Really, I'm fine." I don't do anything in response, not wanting to start another argument.
We sit in silence again, but it's not as bad this time. Gerard suddenly stands up, putting on his jacket.
"I need to go, Frankie, I need to go do.. stuff." He kisses my cheek and runs out, making me stare after him in confusion. I stare at the closed door for ages, thinking that he'll walk back through, a smile on his face. He doesn't, and eventually the nurse that comes round with food comes and gives me lunch. He still doesn't come back, and I'm still as confused as I was when he ran out.

Notes