“Dr. Ross is twenty-six years old and he has a dog,” Jamia informs them stubbornly. “He’s not too old for me.”

Gerard and Frank exchange uncomfortable looks. Frank looks away from him quickly, but Gerard lets his gaze linger a bit longer. He shifts his weight, leaning against the wall.

“What kind of dog?” Frank interrogates swiftly.

“A chocolate lab,” she shoots back. “Named Henry III.”

“What, like the king?” Gerard asks in surprise. “What did he do?”

“Not much,” she says. “Stopped some rebellions.”

Gerard frowns. “So why name the dog—?”

“I don’t think he’s named after the king. I think Alex just thought the name was cute,” she defends.

“Henry III is cute?” Gerard questions but Frank seems to pick up on the key word.

“Alex?” he queries, and Jamia blushes slightly. “Alex Ross?”

“That’s his name,” she confirms, trying to sound non-plussed.

“You’re on a first-name basis already?” Gerard cuts in.

“Hey,” Jamia says, jumping up angrily. “You’re not my parents. You don’t get to decide who I spend my time with, okay? I mean,” she scoffs, “look at you two! You dare give me relationship advice when the sexual tension between you is so thick I can barely breathe in here? Just make out already! It’s gonna happen eventually, so just save us all the angst, please!”

Gerard swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Jamia rolls her eyes for good measure and picks up her coat from the back of her chair. “I’m going to ask Alex if he wants to get coffee when his shift ends,” she tells them curtly, and then she stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Gerard resolves to keep his eyes the door, knowing better than to look at Frank. However, his eyes are traitors and they automatically slide over to meet Frank’s startled gaze. Frank looks away first.

“Well,” he coughs, saying nothing else.

The floor becomes extremely interesting. Off-white tiles speckled with green and purple flecks. Probably to disguise dirt. It’s rather clever, unless someone’s trying to clean.

“Well,” Frank repeats with an obviously forced enthusiasm, “did you know, mangoes are really good for you. You should eat one every day, apparently.”

Gerard looks up at Frank, perplexed. How did mangoes come up? Is he hungry? “I can go get you a mango, if you want?” Gerard offers, straightening up, grateful for the excuse to leave.

“No, no,” Frank protests hastily, “I hate mangoes.”

With his only excuse to leave gone, Gerard leans back against the wall nervously.

“I was just sharing a fact,” Frank explains hurriedly.

Gerard nods and says, “Oh.”

The silence is so long and awful that Gerard can’t take it. “Well,” he announces at last, “I’d better get going—”

“Wait,” Frank says, and Gerard looks up to find Frank staring steadily at him. Gerard swallows uneasily. “You don’t have to leave,” he suggests, and gestures at the seat Jamia vacated. Because Gerard can’t deny Frank anything, he sits. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean to you,” Frank mutters, to Gerard’s complete shock. “You’ve obviously changed a lot. It’s about time I started to forgive you.”

Gerard is flabbergasted. Frank would never forgive him, right? This must be some sort of trick.

Frank crooks his finger, beckoning Gerard closer. Gerard leans forward with bated breath. Frank leans in the rest of the way, his lips coming to brush at the shell of Gerard’s left ear. “I think you’re cute too,” he whispers, his hot breath making Gerard shiver all the way down his spine. Frank’s lips curl into a smirk against his ear and Gerard has to pull away before he does something completely stupid like kiss the smirk off Frank’s face.

Gerard resumes staring at the tiled floor, forcing himself to wonder if it was always off-white or if it just yellowed with age, before Frank speaks up again. “So apparently I have legs,” he announces in annoyance and Gerard can’t help but bark out a laugh as he meets Frank’s eyes again.

“Is that so?” Gerard replies, grinning.

Frank smiles unintentionally. “It is. And being in a coma for half a year really eats away at your muscles, as we discovered yesterday morning.”

“That was this morning, actually,” Gerard corrects, glancing at the darkening sunlight outside the window.

“Was it?” Frank asks. “Huh. I guess you’re right.”

Gerard knows he’s right, because he doesn’t have anywhere to go home to. He was trying not to think about his dad, but it kept creeping into his thoughts all day. Where will he go? Where can he sleep? He didn’t want to tell Jamia, because she would feel obligated to offer him her couch, and Gerard knows there is barely enough space in her apartment for her mother and herself. Over the past six months, Gerard had alienated himself from the other bullies at his school, all the people that used to be his friends. All he has now are Jamia and Frank. And he’s happy with having just them, but it does pose a problem. So far, the only place he can think of staying is the hospital. At least the nurses are used to him staying overnight in Frank’s room. But Frank might not be agreeable to that.

“Anyway,” Frank goes on, oblivious to Gerard’s stormy thoughts, “Dr. Ross said I can start rebuilding my leg strength. I have to go down to the rehabilitation room or whatever. So maybe, if you could take me there? That would be helpful.” Frank looks at him hopefully.

Gerard is nodding before he even processes the question. “Take you to—yeah, sure, I’ll just—go get a wheelchair—you do need a wheelchair, right?” Gerard stutters eloquently.

“Or you could just carry me,” Frank suggests innocently.

Gerard feels himself blushing, but decides he’s not letting Frank get the upper hand this time. “Okay,” he agrees immediately, and swoops down to pick Frank up bridal style.

“What?” Frank panics, flailing as Gerard scoops him from the bed.

“Where to?” Gerard questions, turning towards the door with a sheet still trailing behind them.

“Wait,” Frank squeaks, clinging onto Gerard’s shirt. Gerard halts and looks down at Frank expectantly. Frank is silent for moment until, to Gerard’s complete and utter shock, he bursts out into giggles. “Fine,” he challenges, grinning up at Gerard, “see if you can carry me there. I’d love to see the nurses’ faces.”

Gerard grins back, extremely self-satisfied to have made Frank laugh, and proceeds to carry him all the way down to the rehabilitation room on the first floor. Every nurse they pass does a double take, some shaking their heads, others grinning at them.

By the time they reach their destination, Gerard is a little worn out from carrying Frank so far, which Frank immediately picks up on. “Am I too fat for you?” he asks in amusement.

“Not at all,” Gerard grunts back. “You’re practically emaciated.”

“So you’re just weak, then,” Frank concludes.

Gerard huffs, declining to set Frank down so that he can prove his superior strength. “I’m very strong,” he mutters sullenly.

Frank laughs cheerfully. “Oh, relax,” he chortles, “I’m the one who needs the exercise, not you.”

Gerard carefully sets Frank down on a bench, though rather reluctantly. Then he pauses, uncertain. “Should I…leave you to it, then?”

Frank looks up at him through his lashes unreadably. “I’m sure you have places to be,” he dismisses.

“Yeah, totally,” Gerard lies, and he turns to go as a physical therapist walks up to Frank. He doesn’t have work tonight. He definitely doesn’t have a home anymore. Where can he possibly go?

Notes

Sorry for the wait -- I'll try to update more consistently :)