''What is going on? What's happening? Wh- Ah! 'The fuck? Wait, how am I not waking up? Wake up, Frank! Frick, what the fuck was th- ah! Why is my body hurting so f-freaking m-uch?!''

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

''...he's stable, Doc. It's a miracle. He's- he's alive.''




As I made an effort to do more than just squint my eyes (for the sake of example: moving my hand) I realized I was in a hospital bed. But why? That didn't make any sense.
It was raining. That was the first thing it came to my mind as I tried to assimilate why was I there and why wasn't I able to remember anything at all. The raindrops hit the window in the meantime. The sound produced was audible enough for me to understand that it was raining a shit ton; the room wasn't illuminated with the sun rays, I couldn't hear anything but the hassle of the cars and the rain.

''May I come in?''
''Who is it?''
''My name is Aaron Vicenzo. Can you tell me yours?''
''Uh... Frank. Yeah, Frank Iero.''
''Good, good. Do you recall anything that may have led you here?''
''Mm... not really. It's all just a blank space in my mind. Red, actually, I can't stop thinking about that color... Can I have some water?''
''Sure, here.'' I still couldn't understand why was he there with all those nurses. Was my face disfigured? What was going on?
''Frank, you might have some questions right now, am I right?''
''Well, yeah. Why can't I remember things? Why am I here? For how long have I been here?''
''Do you want to hear the short version or the long one?''
''Bring the long one in, I wanna remember something...''
''Firstly, you might not remember anything for a couple days or weeks. And when you do, you might not remember everything at once. Secondly, and most importantly... Frank, you've been in a coma for two years. An unfortunate car crash hanged your life by a thread two years ago.’’
‘’Wait, what the fuck?’’
‘’If you want to describe it with that question.’’
‘’But, b-but... how? What happened?!’’
‘’Being straight to the point… A man just about your age called the emergency. Jason, I believe. He was in the car with you, he was the one driving. When the paramedics got to the place, Jason was gone, much likely panicked with the whole situation since drugs were involved. As soon as you got here they had to pump your stomach but your body was severely injured. Apparently so it all healed well, but it will be needed time to make ourselves sure of that. Nonetheless, welcome back, Mr. Iero. We are utterly speechless about your case.’’
‘’Shit..’’

---

Two months later.

That was it, fucking hell. The last day of the freaking therapy and the last day at that stupid hospital. I did deserve some coffee and a freaking muffin! I thought that I really should hit up the coffee shop, though, I was missing out on comics for longer than I would ever want to. That's just torture. I wondered even if they still made Doom Patrol.

As I packed all my belongings that were kept in a locker for so much time, I started making my way to my apartment - one that had certainly been missed by me. Had to take care of that sofa crease from watching too much TV, am I right?
First stop: apartment. And damn, was that place a wreck.
Swinging the door open I noticed that all windows were closed, for my fortune, but the layer of dust that rested on every bit of furniture and corner of the house was enough to make me sneeze for at least five minutes. So what did I do? For once in a life time I grabbed some cleaning stuff and did the impossible: ignored my procrastinating self for at least three hours. I needed to move, I missed walking, I missed the smell of cigarettes and the mess of my home. It was as if I was returning to my other half. And I sure missed the music blaring though the speakers, which happened to help a lot in the cleaning matter.

After that time (and a long-ass shower, as you can imagine), the next stop was obviously the coffee shop.
Everything was just the same, except for the employees. Now there was a funny old dude who looked like Danny DeVito - but fuck that, he was nice enough to give me two muffins because I was ''such a joy of a boy''.

A joy of a boy who was dead for two years.

Saying it like that makes it seem I was some sort of cool ghost, and then I'm left with the never ending pit of disappointment that reality provides us.
I was a vegetable. That's it.

Luckily enough I had my sketchbook and my mp4, so I took advantage of it and started doodling around. God knew how much I had missed doing crappy ghosts and zombies on a piece of paper. Being the helpless mess of a person I am, I obviously dropped my sketchbook, and in the process of getting it I dropped my mp4 too.
Which apparently made the asshole from the table next to me laugh.

''What? Do I have 'dick' written on my forehead or something?''
''No, you're just really clumsy, dude. And you have a cute butt.''
''Dude, what the everloving fuck?''
''I'm Gerard, I'm just messing with you. Hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable though... You just seemed the type of person who's a badass on the outside but has a butter heart on the inside.''
''I am a graveyard, Gerard. But the name's Frank.''

That man was a prick. But that red hair kinda made him look like heaven on earth.

Notes

guess who's back with an ending?
how have y'all been?
tell me things!!

here it is, guys. we made it to over 10.5k in the meantime and i nearly cried :')
i've missed you.

the next and last thing i'll post for this story will be the author notes and whatnot.
so keep an eye on it. <3

xo, luna