Before The Sun Goes Down

Frank's POV.
For the first time in a while, I wake up without a headache, but my shoulder's hurting again. My head is a little fuzzy, but no headache. It makes me smile, and I open my eyes wide without cringing. I look around, stiffening when I realize that I'm naked and Craig's naked and I remember that we had sex. A lot of sex.
Regret and guilt are the first things I feel. I look at his face, seeing him smiling a little in his sleep, which only twists the guilt in my stomach a little more.
Sighing, I drop my head back down and close my eyes. I sigh again, the sigh turning into a groan. Fuck, I think, I've really fucked things up this time.
And I have, I know I have. But I couldn't help it. He was there, all warm and welcoming, more than eager to please. I let him, I let him. I started it, he didn't.
So, why can I feel the blame going onto him? I'm making him the scapegoat, and I can't help it.
I can't stop the slight anger bubbling up in my chest about it all; the blame for him. And I can't help pushing him off me and angrily grabbing my clothes, just like how I can't help but angrily put them on and walk into the kitchen, slamming cupboards and mugs and plates. I fill up a glass with water and take some pain medicine, enough to last me a few hours and to calm me down a little.
I hear him groan sleepily, and I grit my teeth.
Why? I don't know.
Sighing, I sit down and bang my head up the wall. “Fuck.” I bang my head again, the anger that I felt towards him transferring onto myself now. I run a hand through my hair, which is knotted, and sigh again.
Grabbing a cigarette packet from off the table, I pull out a cigarette, lighting it and puffing at it. I puff so vigorously that I've smoked it in a few minutes, and it was the last one.
I write out a note for Craig, so he doesn't think I've ran out on him after we've had sex, and quietly walk out. His house isn't too far away from the off'-licence, which is good, because it's cold and I have bare arms.
Running in the shop, I pick up a bottle of something I don't bother reading the label, and ask for two packets of cigarettes. The man behind the counter smiles at me, but it soon drops when he see my scowl. He keeps glancing at my neck, and it's making me nervous and self-conscious.
As soon as I'm a little way away from the shop, I run a hand down my neck, wincing a few times. I think someone might have left some things on my neck, someone being Craig. Shaking my head, I walk back with my head down.
I walk into Craig's house without looking up, not even thinking he'll be even slightly close to waking up, but he is, and he's drinking coffee.
His face lights up when he sees me, which makes the guilt come back. I smile back, looking away quickly before he can see the falseness of it.
“I got this for you...” I hand him the plastic bag, the cigarettes already in my pocket.
“Thanks, Frankie! Where did you go?” He smiles at me, putting the bottle down beside him.
“Just to the little off-license down the road. The dude behind the counter-thing kept looking at my neck for some reason...” His cheeks flare, and he ducks his head, making me laugh.
“Sorry...” He looks at me, cringing. I shake my head, smiling at him.
“Do you want another coffee?” He nods his head, sliding the mug to me. I grab it, putting it next to mine and filling it with milk. I manage to fit them both in the microwave, but I can't get them out without spilling a load of the hot fucking milk over my hands.
“Ah, shit...” I shake my head at myself, waving my hands in the air.
“You idiot, put them in cold water.” He sighs at me, getting up and grabbing my hands. He put the under the cold water, then he grabs the mugs and puts some coffee granules in them, all without spilling a drop.
After my hands stop hurting, we both sit down and drink our coffee in silence. Craig seems nervous, he keeps drumming his fingers on the table and tapping his foot.
“What's wrong?” I place a hand on his, stopping the tapping.
“Nothing.” He says it too quick for it to be the truth, so I ask him again. This time, he sighs and looks at me.
“I just... Will last night change anything? Like, are we still friends?” He glances around the room as he talks, his cheeks reddening.
“Craig, of course we're still friends. Last night won't change a thing, unless you want it to?” He glances at me, silent.
“Um, well I like you and everything, but...” He trails off, tapping his foot again. His hands are shaking worse than before.
“But?” I raise an eyebrow, resting my chin in my palm.
“But I don't want anything serious, Frank.” Relief flows through me, and my stomach starts to settle.
“Good...” He looks at me, kind of hurt. “I didn't mean it like that! I meant...” I stop, looking for the right words. “I've only just got out of a relationship with someone that I still love, and I can't jump into anything, not right now.” He relaxes, his lips curling up.
“Okay, good. I'm glad that's out of the way,” We smile at each other. “Frank, I was wondering if you'd come to a party with me?” He smiles ta me again, the nervousness coming back into his eyes.
“Um...” I hesitate, weighing the pros and cons.
“Please?”
I think about it for a minute, lighting a cigarette and having a drag before I answer.
“Who's party?” His eyes lighten, and he leans forward.
“You don't know them, but they're cool. You'll like them, and there will be a lot of alcohol, drugs, and no Gerard. I think...” He sheepishly smiles at me, shrugging.
“When is it? And, where is it?”
“It starts at eight, and it's somewhere, I'm not entirely sure, but we're getting picked up, if you say yes.” I sigh, taking another drag.
“Fine,” He grins, clapping his hands once. “But, if I freak out or whatever, we're leaving, okay?” He nods solemnly, but then he grins again.
“It's going to be great, Frank. You'll be too pissed to even think straight, probably.” I nod, grinning back at him, and puff my cigarette.
We eat two pizzas for lunch, but it's also our dinner, because I don't the party-host will put out a fucking buffet.
Well, Craig eats a lot, and I eat around three pieces without gagging. It's probably the most calorific thing I've ate in at least three weeks.
“Well done, Frank.” He smiles at me, grabbing my plate off me and patting my head.
“I'm not a dog.” I grin at him, making him grin back. He looks down at the plates, then in the direction of the kitchen and sighs, putting the plates back down.
“Why did you even make us eat off plates?” He rolls his eyes at me, and I shrug.
“I don't really like grease, you're lucky I didn't eat with cutlery.” He rolls his eyes at me, leaning his head back.
“God, I'm tired.”
“Well, you did have a bit of a wild night, didn't you? I mean, I'm pretty tired, too.” He glares at me, but his red cheeks ruin the look a little bit.
“Shut up, Frank.” I laugh, standing up.
“I'm going to have a shower.” He nods at me, his head dropping backwards again as his eyes close.
“Whatever.” He yawns, rubbing his forehead.
I take a shower in fifteen minutes, and I throw clothes on and another bandage, and I make myself look semi-presentable in another five. When I walk back into the lounge, Craig's asleep. I laugh at him, making him stir slightly and move.
“Craig.” I nudge him, and his eyes shoot open and he leaps up.
“I wasn't asleep.” He blearily looks around, stumbling.
“Yeah, sure.” I walk past him, lighting another cigarette and going outside. It's cold, but it feel nice.
“You okay?” I feel a hand on my shoulder, and it makes me leap away. “Frank, it's only me.” I stare at him, my chest rapidly rising and falling.
“I know, I know,” I look away, closing my eyes for a second. “I know.” I look back at him, forcing a smile on my face.
“You good?” He looks at me warily, his eyes guarded.
“I would be if you stopped looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” He sounds defensive, an eyebrow raised.
“Like you... like you're scared of me or something. I don't know, it's weird. Gerard and Mikey and Donna look at me like it, too. It's like they're scared I'm going to do something bad. I hate it, so please don't look at me like that.” His eyes go from wary to sympathetic, then guarded again. He smiles at me, but it's fake and strangely plastic.
I ignore it, stubbing out my cigarette on the wall and sighing.
“My friend is here.” I look at him, not feeling in the mood to party and be fun.
“Great.” He ignore my sarcastic voice and walk back into the house, with me following him.
“Can you lock the doors?” He throws me the keys, shooting me another fake smile.
“Sure.” I can't even manage sarcasm, only dullness.
I lock everything, then grab my shoes and debate on bringing a jacket. I mean, I'll probably loose it or forget it. Or, someone might steal it.
Shrugging, I put it back, deciding to go without one.
“Ready?” I nod, handing him the keys.
“As I'll ever be.”
His friend is okay. I didn't get his name, though. He mostly ignores me and talks to Craig, which is fine by me.
The party seems to be in full swing when we get there, the houses seeming familiar. I don't know why, though.
We go in, Craig relaxed and carefree, whereas I'm tense and ready to punch anyone that touches me.
“Hey, Craig!” Someone grabs Craig, pulling him into a manly hug, punching his arm once or twice.
“Wilk! How you doing?” Craig grins at 'Wilk', leaving me standing by myself as he talks to the guy.
“Who's he?” They must have been talking for at least five minutes before I'm noticed.
“This is Frank, my friend.” Wilk looks me up and down, making me shift slightly and couch.
“I'm Wilk.” He holds out his hand, which I shake, and I smile at him.
“Nice to meet you.” He smiles back, but it's a crazed smile, and I let go of his hand and step away as soon as possible.
“Come on, lets go and get some drinks.” I nod to Craig, grateful to get away from Wilk. I honestly hate it here already, the music is shit and Wilk is fucking crazy or something.
We grab a drink each, Craig saying hello to almost everyone we pass. I'm feeling more and more uncomfortable as the seconds pass, and my chest feels tight.
“Craig, I don't like it here.” He looks down at me, frowning.
“If you feel the same after you've drank that, we'll go, okay?” I nod, the pressure on my chest becoming tighter. I sip my drink, not really tasting it.
People shove into me a couple of times, but we're stood in quite a secluded place, so not many people know we're stood here.
“I know that you probably don't want to here this, but Gerard's over there with some guy, I think.” My eyes widen, and I look to where Craig's eyes are. Gerard is indeed stood over there, but he's not just with 'some guy' he's practically tearing the clothes off of him.
My blood boils, and I clutch at the flimsy cup until it collapses, getting the shitty beer over my hand.
“Frank, calm down. Don't start something here, it's not the right place too, okay?” I look at him, my jaw clenched.
“I need another drink. Maybe ten.” He rolls his eyes, telling me he'll be back in a second.
I suddenly feel very vulnerable standing here, on my own, so my hands start shaking. Craig is back, within a couple of seconds, and he's holding a bottle of something dark. Not vodka, I don't think.
“I brought you a bottle, I couldn't be bothered to pour out a drink.” He smiles at me, and I grab the bottle. I drink a few mouthfuls of it, barely feeling the burn.
I feel a little bit lighter, the uneasiness almost gone. I grin at Craig, drinking some more. It's only half-full, but it was only three-quarters full anyway. The drink goes to my head straight away, my vision doubling a little bit sometimes.
I look around for Gerard, who's laughing at something the guy's just said, I think. Jealousy courses through me, hot and thick. Grabbing Miles, I kiss him, sloppily but with a lot of angry passion.
He relaxes into the kiss, his hands sliding down my sides and coming to a stop just above my hips.
I have to pull away after a minute, breathless. I drink some more, the bottle feeling a whole lot lighter than it did when I first got it.
Laughing at nothing, I kiss Craig again, pulling his hair. It makes him moan, so I do it again, giggling stupidly.
I can't stop laughing after that, so I have to pull away and lean against a wall. Glancing around, I see Gerard looking at me and Craig with a murderous expression on his face. I smile at him, waving. His eyes narrow, and I hear his voice in my head, loud and explosive.
“What are you doing with him?”
“What does it look like, sweetheart?” I smirk at him, turning away and grabbing Craig again.
“Stop it.” This time his voice is in my ear, not my mind. My first reaction is to slam the bottle on the side of his face.
“Fuck!” I look at my hand, blood leaking from a few cuts from the glass.
“Frank, what the fuck?” He shouts, his voice carrying loudly over the pounding bass line. I shrug, pressing my palm against my jeans.
“Craig, I'm bleeding.” I look at Craig, but he's already staring at us with wide eyes. He snaps out of it, looking at my outstretched hand.
“Shit...” He touches it, wincing. “Um, lets clean it up?” I hear a sigh from Gerard, but I ignore him.
“Yeah, lets.” I smile at him, pressing my hand against my jeans again.
“I'll do it, you're fucking hopeless.” Gerard grabs the wrist of my uninjured hand, pulling me his way.
“No, you won't. You'll let go of me and back the fuck off before I scream 'rape'.” He looks at me, realizes I'm serious and drops my hand, but he doesn't move away.
“You shouldn't be screaming it for me, Frank. It's him you should be worried about.” I look at Craig and shake my head, laughing.
“He was fine last night.” The effect is immediate on Gerard, who springs and grabs Craig around the throat, pulling him and making his legs dangle.
“Did you fucking touch him?” Gerard shakes him a little, making Craig choke on his own breath.
I'm frozen in place, my heart thudding unevenly. “Did you?” Craig gets slammed up a wall, his head making a nasty thud as it hits. This is the noise that makes me move.
I jump on Gerard's back, covering his eyes and kicking him.
“Let him go!” Craig's turning a deep purple, his eyes closing and opening slowly. “Gerard, you're going to fucking kill him!” He lets him go, Craig sliding to the floor and breathing ragged breaths.
Jumping down from Gerard's back, I slide across the floor to Craig, saying his name repeatedly.
“Craig. Craig,” He opens his eyes, groaning. “Look at me.” His unfocused eyes do as I say.
He smiles, a lazy smile.
“I'm okay,” I must have doubt in my eyes, because he tries to sit up. “Really, I'm okay.” I help him, propping him up the wall.
Once I'm sure he won't die suddenly, I turn back to Gerard, as pissed as hell at him.
“What the fuck was that?” He shrugs, looking at his feet. “I'll tell you what that was, that was you being a jealous, motherfucking, asshole. You son of a bitch!” I slap him, the action having no effect on him.
“He fucking touched you! Nobody's aloud to fucking touch you!” He finally looks at me, his eyes barely concealing the rage.
“I wanted him to fucking touch me, Gerard! I wanted him too, okay? It was my fault and he's almost been fucking murdered? It was my fault, why aren't you attacking me?” We stare at each other, my fists shaking.
“Frank, it's cool, just let it go.” I look behind me, at Craig. I shake my head.
“It's not okay. No way it is cool, Craig. He has no fucking right to do that.” Craig pleads at me with his eyes, making me look away.
“Frank, come on.” I feel a tug on my wrist, and I let him tug me away.
“Fucking hell, what a bastard.” I make a growly noise, kicking something.
“Frank, it's over. Here, have another drink.” I take the drink, gulping half of it down.
I feel calmer after drinking it, so I sit down instead of pacing. We've somehow got into the garden without me noticing where I'm being dragged to.
“Sorry, Craig. He's... just.. ugh!”
“It's okay, honestly. That's not the first time it's happened, I'm pretty used to it by now.” He shrugs, grinning at me. He seems okay, but his voice is more raged and hoarse, and his eyes have rings around them.
“It could have been a lot worse, I supposed.” He nods, bumping my shoulder with his.
“That's the spirit, Frankie! Positivity, not negativity.” I roll my eyes at him, but there's a grin on my face.
“Shut up, Craig. You're such a...” I look for the right word, but my sentence is finished for me.
“Twat? Idiot?” I grin at him, nodding.
“Something like that, I guess.” He punches me, feigning hurt.
“Don't be mean, Frankie.”
“Sorry, Craigy.” He cringes at the nickname, shaking his head at me.
“Lets just stick to Craig, okay?”
“Okay.” We laugh, nodding at each other.
“You know, it was pretty hot when you were shouting at Gerard...” I look at him. He's smirking at me, and when he sees me looking he winks.
“Pretty hot?” He nods. “Don't you mean really fucking magnificently hot?” He thinks I'm serious for a minute, but then I laugh, which makes him roll his eyes and laugh, too.
“That, too, I guess.” I shove him, shaking my head.
“Don't tell lies, darlin'.” I smirk at him, my laughter stopping.
“Do I look like I'm telling you lies?” He points to his serious-looking face, so I study him for a minute, then shake my head.
“You're a really good liar.” I shrug, sipping my drink. He rolls his eyes, leaning his head on my shoulder.
“I've always thought you were hot, Frankie. Even when I was a dick to you and everything.” I look at his hair, my eyes making the strands blur into one.
“You told my dad.” He tenses up, and the steady rise and fall of his chest stops for a minute.
“I know.” I bite my lip, thinking about my mom.
“Why?” It comes out as a whisper.
“I don't know. All I could think about when I read all the articles about how you were missing is how much I hate myself for doing what I did. When I told him that, I think a part of me went somewhere. I try not to think about it, but after that, it ate away at me. It still is.” His voice gets quieter and quieter as he speaks, but I can hear every word.
“My mom's dead.” We're silent for a minute, and I have to wipe away a tear.
“I'm sorry.” He shifts slightly.
“My mom's dead and I murdered my dad.” He looks up at me, his eyes wide.
“You what?” I nod, biting my lip.
“I stabbed him and then left him burning.” A low whistle escapes his lips, then he looks at me.
“Good.” I'm take aback by that, I thought he'd look at me like that again, like he's scared of me.
“Good,” I smile slightly, shaking my head. “The police don't know, I don't think. Everything's slightly hazy, I was on so many drugs and shit in the hospital..” I'm staring a my hands, not looking at him.
“I'm sorry.” I shake my head.
“I'm sorry, too.” I look up then, and catch sight of my self in the window. I'm smiling, but it isn't a nice one. I'm reminding myself of Pennywise the Clown for some reason.
“Frank?” My eyes snap to Craig, who's looking at me like that again. My grin widens, and the hesitant hand that was about to touch my knee withdraws, settling back on his lap.
“I'm a murderer.”
“So am I.” The grin disappears for a second, then I'm smiling again.
“Who?”
“Your mom and dad.” I utter a small laugh, shaking my head.
“Yeah, you are, I guess.” He looks at me as if he wasn't expecting me to agree with him.
“Don't blame yourself, then.”
“I can't help it. I got the knife, I stabbed him. I let him burn; I set the fire. I made it so my mom couldn't have a funeral because there wasn't anything to bury. Me.” I jab myself with my finger in my sternum, leaning forward as I talk.
“You also almost murdered me, Craig, if you're blaming yourself for his parent's deaths. I almost committed suicide because of your stupid little shitty shit. ” We both turn around, a scowl settling on my face when I see him.
“How long have you been there?” He shrugs, taking a drag of his cigarette.
“Not long.” Craig is staring at Gerard, a slightly terrified look on his face.
“How long will you be stood there?” I snap at him, making him roll his eyes.
“Why are you so fucking angry at me? I've done nothing but try to help you since we met again, Frank.” I scoff, turning around again.
“Ignore him, Craig.” Craig lick his lips and swallows, still keeping his wary eyes on me. Gerard looks at him, his eyes bright.
“Craig, I'm assuming Frank's told you everything?” Craig glances at me, then nods. “Thought so,” He sighs, stubbing his cigarette out and coming to sit opposite us. I sigh, sinking further down in my chair and crossing my arms. “But, you only know the 'story' from his point of view, don't you?” Craig nods, his hands shaking hard. Gerard notices and smiles, revealing his sharp, white teeth.
“Gerard, stop it.” He sighs, his mouth turning down instead.
“Do you want to hear my side?” Gerard leans forward, resting his chin in his palm. Craig shakes his head, looking away.
“Gerard.” I make my voice low, sending him a warning. He ignores me, keeping focused on Craig.
“Leave us alone.” Craig's voice is pathetic, really, and it makes Gerard laugh.
“You're noting like you were in high school. You haven't even got any muscle any more, have you?” Craig's cheeks flame, but his eyes get angry.
“And?” His jaw clenches, making Gerard smirk.
“You're nothing. You took steroids, didn't you?” His cheeks redden more, making Gerard throw his head back and laugh. “You went to rehab. You were addicted to steroids. What else?” The laughter goes out of his voice and he becomes serious. I know immediately that's he's rooting through Craig's head.
“Gerard, get out of his head.” Craig's eyes widen, and a hand reaches up to touch his head.
“He's in my head?” His voice is breathy, panicky. I nod, my eyes narrow and focused on Gerard.
“You got bullied after the thing happened in school.” Craig has shrunken to half the size he was, his eyes wide and his mouth open. “You got beat up everyday by the people you called friends. They shoved a burning pile of something through your letterbox and your parents died. You got out, didn't you? But you were burnt... Burnt and angry. At yourself, at them. At me. You wanted to kill me, didn't you?”
I look between them, horrified. My mouth is open, and I'm sure I'm pale. Craig hasn't moved since Gerard started talking, his eyes filled with tears. Gerard has an evil smirk on his face, his eyes filled with malicious joy.
“I still do, Gerard.” His smirk widens, and he leans forward more.
“If you touch me, I'll snap your neck.... No, I'll just tell them your address.” Craig's eyes become fiery, the tears vanishing with a blink of his eye. He moves forward, really quickly, and leaps on Gerard, taking him by surprise. They fall to the floor, Craig on top.
I utter a strangled cry, knowing Craig will never even hurt Gerard, but I can't move. My eyes close, and they don't open until I hear quiet.
Gerard's stood up, his hair in the same place and his features light. Craig, however, is unconscious or dead.
“You haven't murdered him, have you?” I sound calm, but the tears in my eyes suggest otherwise.
“No, but I know people who will.” Jumping up, I grab his arm, my eyes wide and pleading.
“Don't. Please. Please.” Gerard shoves me backwards, making me stumble and fall. I land awkwardly, my head bouncing off the wall.
Pain explodes in my head, and I see colors like red and pink. And light. Even though my eyes are open, I see nothing but light. After a minute, I'm able to see unclear pictures. Another minute, and I can see properly again, and I can feel something other than the pain. I can feel a hot liquid running down my face, getting in my eyes.
“Frank...” I look up at him, accusations on my tongue. “I'm sorry, Frank. Really sorry, oh, shit, I'm sorry. Shit, you're bleeding, oh shit, oh, shit,” He's talking fast, his eyes wide and his hands outstretched.
I spit out some blood. I feel my head, looking for the cut, finding it over my right eyebrow. My lip is bleeding, too, I think I bit it accidentally when I fell.
He reaches out for me, but I jolt backwards.
“Don't touch me,” I say it through gritted teeth, the venom in my voice surprise me, let alone Gerard. “Don't fucking touch me, you bastard.” I cough, spitting out more blood.
Gripping the wall, I stand up, and almost fall back down again.
“Frank, I'm sorry. I never meant to... to hurt you. Shit, oh, fuck. Oh shit, I'm sorry.” He reaches out again, making me recoil and bump into the wall.
“What the fuck did I just fucking say? Don't fucking touch me!” I glare at him, pressing a hand to the cut over my eyebrow to stop the bleeding. He steps back, devastation on his face.
“I... I...” His wide-eyes look at me, and he bites his lip. A hand covers his mouth, and his shoulders shudder.
I step away from the wall, testing if I can support myself. I manage a few wobbly steps towards Craig, collapsing on my knees when I get to him. Blood splatters on him, making me feel sick. I lean closer to him, trying to hear him breathing. My heart starts thudding when I can't.
I place my hand on his chest, his neck, his wrist. I feel nothing, not even a shaky beat.
“No, no, no.” I shake my head, leaning in really close, my ear hitting his lips.
Nothing. “Fuck.. No..” My voice is high and shaky. A tear drops onto his face, followed by another, and another.
I lean back on my knees, staring at him in horror. “No,” I shake my head again, the word coming out as a high groan. “No.” I sound stronger this time, but I feel dizzier. My breaths get shorter, my hearts gets faster.
“Dead...” I shake my head again, repeatedly this time, not stopping even when I stand up and look at Gerard. “He's dead!” Does this shrill, hysterical voice seriously belong to me?
One of my hands cover my mouth, and I fall to my knees.
I look up at Gerard, hoping the hatred that I'm feeling is showing through my eyes before I pass out.

Waking up to an annoying beeping sound is never good, especially when you feel like a mallet is slamming into your skull.
I open my eyes to a bright, white room. A bright, white hospital room. And I wake up in a bright, white hospital bed.
I wake up in a fucking bright, white hospital.
I wake up to an empty room, but after a minute the door opens. Donna comes in, her head down. She looks up for a second, then looks down. Then, she looks right back up again, her eyes wide.
She mouths my name, stood still and frozen.
“Frank?” Her voice is ragged and breathless. I blink at her, and a smile breaks out on her face.
“Frank!” She rushes to my side, touching my face.
“What the fuck am I doing in here?” My voice is croaky, and she gives me a drink before she answers “You hurt your head, and you've been in a coma for two months..” All I can do is stare at her.
“I should get a doctor,” She looks at me for a few more seconds, a small smile of disbelief on her face, then runs out.
A coma. For two months.
A coma? For two months?
Why was I even in the position to be put into a coma anyway? How did I bang my head? Why did I bang my head?
I start to struggle to sit up, but the doctor and Donna walks in, so I stop. The doctor says nothing to me, he just starts shining a light in my eyes, making them burn and close. When I open them again, there's bright white spots in the middle of whatever it is I'm looking at.
“What's your name?”
“Frank Iero.” He nods, writing something on the clipboard from the end of my bed.
“Birthday?” I have to think for a second, but the answer comes to me.
“October 31st.” He writes something else down.
“Brother's name?” I furrow my eyebrows at this one.
“I don't have a brother?” He cracks a smile, nodding.
“I know, I'm just testing.” I don't smile with him, neither does Donna.
Donna, in fact, has a frown on her face. And rings around her eyes, and she's pale and thinner. Frowning, I stare at her. I ignore whatever it is the doctor's saying, focusing on how Donna looks- which is bad.
The doctor leaves, giving Donna a look. Donna looks from him to me, then back, and she nods at him.
When he leaves, she looks at me again, her eyes filled with sorrow. Panic fills me, restricting my chest.
“Frank, do you remember Gerard?” As soon as she says his name, I do remember him, so I nod. Her lips purse and a tears falls down her cheek.
“How could I forget him?” I smile, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn't work.
“Well,” She pauses, her eyes looking upwards as she breathes out shakily. “He, uh, well, he...” She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I'm sorry, Frankie,” I swallow, my chest tightening even more.
“What?” She doesn't answer me, she just covers her face with her hands and lets out a pained sob. “Donna, what?” I lean forward, grabbing her wrists in my hands.
“He's gone.” I drop her wrists as if they burnt my hands.
“Gone?” She uncovers her face, looking me right in the eyes.
“He's been missing for two months, Frank.” I release a breathy laugh, shaking my head.
“No, he hasn't.” Even as I deny it, my eyes fill with tears. Donna looks away, to the window.
“We don't know where he is,” I press my hands to my chest, my breaths stuttering.
“The police can't help us, because he's dead. They're looking for someone named Gerald, not our Gerard... My little boy.” She starts talking to herself, muttering things that I can't hear properly, but I can hear the hurt in them, the pain.
I, however, have gone completely still, only breathing occasionally and not blinking at all.
Really, I don't think that happened at all, I don't think I was calm and unmoving, because I next woke up in a different white room, this time in a different type of hospital.

Notes

Another plot twist!