...“Great. You’ll call me later then, right?”

“Sure,”

Gerard’s POV

“Is Frank there?” I half-whisper to mom, desperately trying to wiggle my fingers out of her firm grasp as we walk down the hospital hallway. For some reason I feel embarrassed that she’s holding me, as if I’m a helpless child who can’t even stand on his own. I don’t want people to think I’m weak, especially Frank. I may be blind, but not delusional.

“Yeah, the man is on his usual spot,” she replies, and I hear a smile in her voice. I was almost sure he’d be there, he never misses a day, but my heart oohs at the expected answer. I don’t know why I even asked- I just felt an urgent need to make sure.

“I’ll go to him then,” I tell her quickly and finally, with a yank, free my hand from her grip. Her nails scratch my palm but I ignore it, wanting to get away as sooner as possible. I just clench my fist, taking a step back. “You can go and, uh, get coffee or something,” I mutter quietly, turning away and she chuckles.

“I’m glad you’re making friends baby,” she ruffles my hair before I hear her move away from me and start walking in the opposite direction, her heels hitting an even beat off the floor and fading away in the distance. Someone to my right coughs loudly, suffocating. I sigh, feeling my cheeks heat up and slowly shuffle forward, hardly tearing my feet off the ground. Like always, I feel everyone’s eyes on me, and some murmuring fills the hallway. Sometimes I wonder - do they really think I’m oblivious to their attention? Do they themselves not feel other’s eyes on them to know well enough? I kind of wish I knew what their expressions are like- pity, indifference, mock? I’ll never see them. All I know is that they are staring at me, taking every inch of me in. A phone from somewhere near the end of the hallway rings for solid 10 seconds, the owner clearly ignoring it before the caller gives up.

Overall, it’s unusually quiet and peaceful today. It seems like this part of the hospital is always nervous- people cry, talk to themselves and sometimes, in the wildest of cases, scream. Which is kind of weird- this isn’t a mental institution, there aren’t supposed to be any schizophrenics here, right? When I asked mom about it she just said that they need to check in here once in a while, even though some of them live in a ward. Don’t they have their own doctors in the wards?...

I can almost hear my own heartbeat in my chest, and the material of my clothes rubbing together as I slowly move forward. My arm unconsciously slightly rises forward, blindly feeling in front of me as I take more hesitant steps. Mom always tries to persuade me to take a walking stick with me, but for me, a walking stick is the lowest I can go. When I have my walking stick, I don’t even feel human. I feel like I’m a mole digging through the dirt, feeling the way with my tentacles or whatever those things on their noses are. I remember studying moles in 5th grade, and back then, I had no idea that I’d become just like them one day. One difference between us is that I used to be able to see the grass, the trees, the houses, the clouds, the sun; I could see the rain. not just feel it on my skin. Moles, on the other hand, never did. I wonder if it’s easier for them, living without something they never experienced. They probably don’t care- they aren’t even aware that they are blind. And I miss watching raindrops rand on the glass during car rides. I really fucking miss it.

I’ve become quite familiar with this hallway so general walking isn’t a problem, but I’m scared that some assholes are going to have their legs stretched out across the whole fucking floor, which happened last week. I’m still not sure if the dude did it on purpose, or just thought that I was some retard wearing shades inside and could just step over his limbs.

Out of nowhere, without a warning, I feel someone’s bony hand grab mine, dragging me after them and pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Fuck!” I breathe out, my heart racing in terror. My free hand automatically shoots up to my face in an unconscious attempt to hide from whoever that is. For some reason, I expect to be hit.

“You’re late again, you know that, right?” Frank starts speaking quickly, completely ignoring my reaction, and his fingers tighten around mine as he pushes me down onto the chair. I feel him sit down next to me and release my hand, letting it drop to my knees.

“You-” I start, leaning back into the seat. “Never come onto me like that ever again, fuck,”

He just pats my shoulder lightly in response, starting to laugh. His arm wraps around my back as he shakes, unable to speak. “Oh c’mon, we’ve known each other for several months, you should get used to it!” he practically chokes out, and I frown slightly.

“I literally thought I was about to get assaulted in the middle of a fucking hospital hallway,” I mumble out, trying to calm myself down. This day just seems to be a wreck already, I just feel it.

“Oh man, you know you aren’t mad,” he nudges my side slightly, and I stay silent.
Should I tell him it’s okay or continue being pissed? We stay quiet for several seconds, and he probably feels confused and awkward, too.

“Sorry Gerard, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally utters, and for some reason it’s painful to hear him sound so guilty. He is never sad. He always laughs, cheers me up, makes jokes, and just generally doesn’t care when people around tell him to quiet down. The slightly-noticeable misery in his voice is unnatural.

“It’s okay, really,” I turn to face his voice, smiling as widely as I can, showing my teeth, trying to show him that it doesn’t matter. I just want him to make me feel okay again, make some ridiculous jokes, practically anything. I feel him sit up in his chair and his arm brushes past mine.

“Good,” he says, taking a breath. “So, you’re coming to my place tomorrow, right?”

Last week Frank and I agreed that my mother would drive me to his house and let me stay there for the whole day, and he would drive me back home. He said we could go out to the city or just do whatever I wanted to, like stay in his room and listen to music, and I honestly can’t wait till tomorrow. It’s been so long since I had an actual real friend that having Frank by my side now seems unnatural, unusual and exotic. It’s also probably the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time. I think… I think we are best friends. And I truly hope that he thinks so, too. I’ve also hated being home recently, the air is heavy and everything around seems different. The mood has become darker since my first visit to Mr Ackermann. It’s good to escape, at least for several hours.

“Yeah, just make sure you aren’t asleep when I arrive,” I smile, this time more genuinely.

“Haha, very funny Gee,”

Just as I’m about to reply, the sound of the opening door distracts me.

“Gerard Way?”

My head automatically snaps to the direction of the voice.

“Come in buddy,” Mr Ackermann’s thin and as high-pitched as ever voice tells me. Surprisingly, he is hardly late.

“Looks like our grandpa finally got a watch,” Frank says quietly to my back as I stand up from the chair, taking several steps towards the direction of the door. I snort, covering my mouth with my hand and waving him off before entering the office. The faint smell of medicine hits my nose, and I wish I didn’t have to breathe at all. I make my way to the familiar squeaky, leather armchair and sit down. In all honestly, I really don’t like this room. I don’t know what is it about it, but they should have chosen a different placement for a therapist’s office.

Maybe it being a therapist’s office is what makes it so bad.

“So, how have you been doing, buddy?” Mr Ackermann asks. I mentally start counting how many times he says buddy during the next hour and a half.

“I’ve been doing okay,”

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s good,”

“What about your cat?”

“Bubbles’s good too,” I reply dryly, pushing my glasses up my nose and propping my chin on my hand. . As days go by, I dislike this guy more and more. It’s probably not even his fault, I’m sure he is a nice dude outside the office, but here I feel like he’s a dementor sucking all the happiness from me. There’s something distressing about telling a stranger who you can’t even see all your problems and thoughts. Maybe he is wearing a clown mask and his hands are covered in blood. Maybe his shelves are packed not with awards, but with cut-off human heads. I’ll literally never know, and I can’t really put too much trust on him. I’ve come to the conclusion that I hate therapists.

“Anything interesting happening?”

“No, not really,” I say. I’m not going to tell him about Frank, my best friend is my private business.

“Really? What do you do in your free time?”

“Uh, just… stay in my room, sometimes listen to music…” I hesitate, interlocking my fingers. I really don’t do much when I’m alone, but I’ve grown used to it.

“Okay, let’s do it a different way. What did you do before you lost your eyesight?”

I still down, my hand dropping from my mouth to my knees, the unexpected question sinking in. I lean back into the chair, my arms crossing themselves on my chest without me realising.

“I, I-uh, I just-” I mumble, suddenly feeling nervous and uneasy.

“It’s okay, just tell me some of your old hobbies,”

“I- I used to draw…”

“Good, what else?”

“I liked writing stories and… I also used to read many comics,”

“Good, good. Can I ask you, what did you write about?”

I stammer, suddenly feeling really tiny and miserable. I don’t want to remember what I used to be like, I want to F O R G E T.

“Just some stupid dramas, I guess. I was only 13,”

“Tell me the plot of one of your stories,” Mr Ackermann asks demandingly.

“Um, okay, so there was a guy, whose girlfriend died in a car crash while they were in a fight. So months went and he was trying to move on and meet new people, but he couldn’t because he loved her too much. The thought that he didn’t even say bye to her didn’t let him sleep at night. He started blaming everything on himself and.. I guess he kind of became obsessed with her death. He collected photographs, slept with her old bed sheets and everything. And then it turned out that none of it was real. The girl never existed, he dreamed her up. And then… And then I don’t know what happens to him. I never finished it,”

Silence hangs in the room before Mr Ackermann speaks up again.

“That doesn’t sound like something a 13 year old would write,”

“Well, but-”

“Hey, I didn’t say I don’t believe you. You are extraordinary, Gerard. Very, very interesting,”

***

“Just don’t do anything illegal,” mom warns me as she rings the doorbell for me. We are right outside Frank’s apartment, waiting for him to open the door.

“Yeah, I’ll go far with these eyes, mom,”

“You don’t need eyes to smoke and drink, Gerard. And just so you know, you can’t lie to me. I’ll see it on your face,”

“Pff, as if,” I reply.

“I’ll see the cocaine particles on your nose no matter how much you try to wash them off, Gerard. You’re also a horrible liar,”

Suddenly I hear the door in front of me fling open, and spread my lips in a smile.

“Gerard! Oh, uh, hello, Mrs Way,” Frank greets somewhat hesitantly and my mom frees my hand, probably reaching over to shake his. I continue smiling.

“Hi Frank. So you remember that I need Gerard back home by nine, right?”

“Yes, of course. Uh, would you like some tea?..” he suggests. He is probably just trying to be polite, my mom hasn’t really shown him any signs of kindness since they first met.

“No, thank you sweetie. Have fun,” she says, and I feel her lips on my forehead. I squint away, turning to face the other side.

“Bye mom,” I mumble out. Frank gets a hold of my elbow and gently leads me inside, letting me stand by his side.

“Thank you,” he says to my mom for some reason. They exchange goodbyes while I keep quiet, and then he shuts the door.

“You know, I have a feeling your mom doesn’t like me,” Frank says thoughtfully, gripping my elbow again and leading me in some unknown direction and I just laugh, slightly throwing my head back.

***

“Hey, wait, I know this other song, wait a second,” Frank shushes me as I continue laughing, unable to stop. I’m sitting on his bed while he’s on the floor, playing guitar and telling me stories about his band. Those guys seem like so much fun, but what’s strange is that they are nothing like me. They are all standing out, loud and crazy. I’m like a white crow among all his friends.

“Okay okay, play it,” I giggle, leaning back on my arms.

“I actually learned it for today,” he tells me.

“Mmm, I feel special,”

“Don’t get used to the feeling,” Frank jokes and I laugh again, grinning widely. Frank tries the accords, hitting the strings.

“Okay, shut up now,” he orders once he’s ready and I prepare to listen.

He begins to play the familiar tune and then, he sings.

“If you ever find yourself in the dark and you can’t see, I’ll sail the world to find you,” his voice flows, hitting all the right notes as the guitar weeps gently in the background. “If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can’t see, I’ll be the light to guide you,” he practically cooes out, and my little heart, which I was sure was dry and black, melted. “We find out what we’re made of when we are called to help our friends in need,” I hear him drag a breath, and the guitar pauses for a moment before starting again with new force. “You can count on me like one, two, three, I’ll be there, and I know when I need it I can count on you like four, three, two, and you’ll be there, ‘cause that’s what friends are supposed to do oh yeah,”

“If you're tossing and you're turning and you just can't fall asleep, I'll sing a song beside you. And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me, every day I will remind you, ooooh,” he sings, and I feel like I’m on the verge of tears. I feel the wetness in my eyes and my chin shake slightly. A gulp rises to my throat and my hand automatically shoots up to my face, covering my mouth.

“To find out what we’re made of- Gerard, are you okay?”

I look up into the darkness, really wishing I could see him then. I nod fiercely, trying to not burst out in sobs, but I can already feel the tears spilling over. The bed dips next to me as Frank sits down on it. He lays his hand on my back.

“Are you crying?” he asks worriedly, starting to rub circles. I don’t reply, trying to regain my breath. “What happened?”

“I just-” my voice comes out shaky and high-pitched, weaker than I intended it to be. “I don’t… I’d never think I have any friends in my whole life and now-” the last part sounds like a hysterical whisper, and I immediately hide my face in my hands, starting to shake in sobs. Frank’s fingers immediately close around my wrist, trying to pull my hand away.

“Oh my god Gerard, you are just-” he pauses, looking for the right words. “An extraordinary person. You’re so kind and… I don’t even know how to put it in words. I just don’t want to ever let you go. You lighten up my day every time I see you,”

I finally lift my face up and turn to him, my skin wet and stained with tears. “Thank you,” I mumble out, not sure what else to say. I think I just showed him the reason I even go to therapy- the reason I didn’t even know existed before this moment. Extreme loneliness.

“You don’t have to feel bad ever again, you have me,” Frank tells me and I lean into him as he embraces me in a hug. “Hey,” he utters quietly after several seconds of silence. “Will you… will let me do something?”

“Depends on what it is,” I reply.

“I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but I really want to do it,”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“No, as long as you don’t trash around,” he laughs and I force on a small smile. I feel his cold hand cup my cheek. What is he-

I feel my glasses being slid off.
“I don’t want you to wear these around me. I like seeing your eyes,” Frank says.

***

Soft guitar sounds reach my ears, the notes flowing and melting into each other. The tune is relaxing and kind of playful, and I’m almost sure I know it, except I can’t remember from where. I continue listening, concentrating all my memory on it. And then, Frank begins to sing again.

“You’ve got a friend in me,” his voice flows. He really has a great voice when he tries hard enough, it’s like a lullaby. “You’ve got a friend in me,” he hits a higher note. “When the road looks rough ahead and you’re miles and miles from your nice warm bed you just remember what your old pal said, boy, you’ve got a friend in me, yeah you’ve got a friend in me,” my lips tug upwards as I realise that it’s a song from Toy Story. “Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am, Bigger and stronger too, maybe. But none of them will ever love you the way I do. It's me and you boooy,” he finishes of, hitting the wooden part of the guitar like a drum. I throw my head back, laughing and clapping.

“Sorry I didn’t finish it- if only you came an hour or so later… I spent the whole night working on it, all the notes online were fucked up so I had to write my own,” he explains.

Notes

lmao i bet you all thought they were going to kiss
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