18th Floor Balcony (Frerard)

“Promise me, son. Promise me that you will never give up. Promise me that you will never stop caring about the things, the people that matter in your life,” Mr. Anthony Iero spoke to Frank, lying weakly in his hospital bed with his one and only son at his bedside, holding his hand.
“But Pop…I-I…,” Frank’s voice trailed off, left weak and nearly speechless at the sight of his dying father, who’s succumbed to stage four lung cancer, and is now left only inches away from death. Frank couldn’t believe this was really happening to him. He had tried to hold back his tears, but to no avail. His father was gonna really die, and there was no stopping it. He was really fading away right in front of his eyes.
“No buts, and no regrets,” Anthony rebutted. “Although I wished my life was longer, I do not regret how I lived it, least of all do I regret that I had a wonderful son like you. It was hard raising you by myself without your mother, but you were a good kid and kept your nose pretty clean, and now look at you. You’re a CNA...a certified nursing assistant!”
“Yeah,” Frank scoffed in discontent, shuddering at the thought of being a CNA at his dreadful job at an understaffed nursing home full of overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated CNAs, as well as rude and ungrateful residents. “One that hates his job. You know the kind of hell I go through on a daily basis at Alpine Terrace,”
“That is something you are going to have to come to terms with, son. You know that--”
Anthony falls into yet another violent coughing fit, his lungs weak and inches away from giving in for good. Frank comes closer to his side, comforting him and doing what he can to bring him down, but he couldn’t help but notice the blood tinging the cloth that he holds over his father’s mouth. He also cannot ignore how frail Anthony is, as well as his excessive hair loss and sunken eyes. He looks much older than his fifty years, clearly.
“I’m alright,” Anthony said, despite looking far from it. “I just want to know when I leave this world that you will be alright, and that you will do what you need to in order to find your happiness,”
“Oh, Pop…,” Frank sighed deeply, unsure how in the hell he’ll ever achieve that. He’s so close to losing the one man that’s raised him and loved him for eighteen years. What in the world could possibly bring him happiness when it was his father that’s brought so much of it into his life?
“I need to sleep now,” Anthony said, his ill eyes growing tired. He kissed Frank’s forehead, just like he always used to do to his baby son. His lips felt like they were made of tissue paper. They were so dry and fragile…
“I love you, Pop,” Frank whispered.
“I love you too, Frankie…,”
“Frankie? Frankie?” A familiar woman called out, snapping nineteen year old Frank Iero back into reality. It was a concerned little old lady named Rosalie, Frank’s grandmother. “You alright?”
“What? Oh, sorry grandma. Didn’t hear you,” Frank responded, still unable to shake the image of his late father from his daydreaming head.
“Lost in your head again, just like your father!” Rosalie sang playfully, making Frank chuckle a bit.
“Yeah, I was thinking about him, and the last time I had a full conversation with him before...he…,” Frank stopped, unable to get that dreaded four lettered word out of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe his dad was gone. It was all like it happened yesterday, even though in reality, Frank knew his father’s death was more than a year ago.
“I know, bambino,” Rosalie sighed, placing a comforting hand on her grandson’s shoulder. “You know he is in a better place and no longer in pain, though,”
“Yeah, I know, grandma,” Frank nodded in agreement, knowing that he can at least be happy that his dad is no longer hurting from the cancer and soggy from the chemo.
“And he would also be so proud of you, now that you’re a CNA, just like how I used to be back in the day!” Rosalie smiled, looking back at the fond memories of her days as a caregiver in a hospital for war veterans, then eventually, a full-fledged registered nurse. “So, Frankie...why don’t you tell me about your first placement? Who’s that first lucky patient that’s gonna be in the care of my grandson?”
“I honestly don’t know much about him yet,” Frank shrugged. “I do know he does have ALS, and I’ll be taking care of him,”
“Oh, you mean Lou Gehrig’s disease? How terrible for him!”
“Yeah, and I know that he’s not much older than me. I believe he’s in his early to mid twenties,”
“Oh, poor thing…,” Rosalie frowned remorsefully.
“It’s alright. Maybe it will be easier because we are closer in age. We will have more in common, plus I’ve had my experience working with quadriplegics back at Alpine Terrace. We’ll have more in common. I’m thinking that is why they chose me,”
“Is it live-in?”
“I was told that it could develop into that, but right now, I work five days a week and three nights. There’s another CNA that is caring for him, but I get the feeling that either the agency or the patient is not happy with him. That is why they said the workload could increase,”
“Will they give you a warning if that should happen, Frankie?”
“Yeah, they said they will,” he replied, hoping that it doesn’t get to that, but then again, he knew he needed the money. Desperate times do call for desperate measures, after all.
“Well, I wish you lots of luck on your first day,” Rosalie smiled.
“Thanks, grandma,” Frank said, giving Rosalie a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door to ride his Harley motorcycle to his homecare agency.
_ _ _
“So I have not received a file on my patient yet and I was only given a little bit of information on him so far,” Frank said, walking with the head of his department of the Angels of Comfort homecare agency. He pretty much thought of the woman, named Nancy, as his boss since she had been working with him since he got hired. She was a stately woman with a steel gray bun in her hair, but kind eyes. He still had a feeling that she was not one to fuck with, though. “Nancy, can you tell me a little more about him?”
“Absolutely, Frank. Here, have a seat,” the woman said, welcoming Frank to sit down at the chair in front of her desk. She sat down across from Frank and opened up the patient’s file, his care plan and all his other vital information in one big manila folder. Her green eyes scanned over it as she deciphered what to say to the curious caregiver. “Well, as you so know...this twenty-three year old man has been a sufferer of ALS for three years. You’ll be responsible for preparing meals and feeding him, changing him after meals, transferring him in and out of bed, dressing him, emptying his catheter periodically, providing transportation to doctor’s appointments, and so on. He is also to be bathed every other day, so today he’ll need a bed bath since he had one Saturday night. He tries to help out as much as he can, but knowing his condition...he’s been going downhill rather quickly, unfortunately,”
“Can I see the folder?” Frank asked, wanting to know every bit of crucial information about this man before he must head out to take care of this potentially difficult and dependent patient with ALS.
“Sure,” Nancy said, handing the folder right to Frank for him to look at. He opened up the folder and skimmed the papers for the patient’s name. It was when he saw the name that he felt his heart stop. He’s seen this name before.
Gerard A. Way.
“This...this can’t be right,” Frank stuttered, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe it. Gerard fucking Way, a good friend from high school, is the man with ALS that is soon to be in Frank’s care? The long black-haired punk kid that always goofed off in Frank’s science class and sang in the school choir now has such a devastating disease that can kill him? This can’t be real. This has gotta be some kind of fucked up dream!
“Hmm? What’s wrong, Frank?” Nancy asked, concerned for her employee.
“I know him…,” Frank said shakily. “I mean, I used to know him. We went to highschool together. Oh wow, he wanted to be an artist, too. He had the talent, he was amazing at art! Three years he’s had ALS? I wonder if he ever made it to college? I know there was this liberal arts college he’s always wanted to go to when he graduated…,” Frank was lost in his memories and didn’t hear the woman calling him back to reality.
“Frank? Frank, are you alright?” Nancy called out to him, her eyes still concerned, yet sad. “I know it’s a very sad and devastating fate for someone so young, but...someone’s gotta be there to take care of him, since his family no longer can,”
“What happened to Mikey?” Frank asked, wondering about the punk kid’s younger, socially withdrawn and nerdy younger brother, who also attended St. Jude High School with him and Frank. “I mean, he had a younger brother named Michael and I do remember that he had a good relationship with his parents, even though they were a little strict--”
“I really can’t tell you much about the relationship the patient has with his family, other than his mother used to take care of him in her home...until it became too much for her,” Nancy said firmly, the stern look in her eyes telling Frank to not pry into the patient’s personal business. “Gerard currently is in the care of his younger brother Michael, who both live in an apartment together in an affluent part of Newark, but...Michael can only do so much to for his sick and dependent brother,”
“Of course. Sorry to be disrespectful of the patient's private life. Forgive me,” Frank said, cursing to himself. He knew better than that. “So when do I get to meet them?”
“Well...you are aware that your first day with Gerard is today at…,” Nancy paused, looking down at her wristwatch. “Ten o’clock sharp. I’m assuming you have no more questions before you go on your way to meet Mr. Gerard Way? It is past nine, and knowing that is takes approximately a half hour to get to his house...it is best to get going soon,”
“Wait...past nine, but it’s...oh, fuck!”
Frank watched Nancy frown at his outburst, but Frank forgot about daylight savings again and never fixed the time on his alarm clock or watch. Even though it would take thirty minutes to get to Gerard’s house, he lived across town, and if Frank was lucky, the traffic would not suck. He threw out a hasty apology as he grabbed his leather jacket and ran for his motorcycle.
_ _ _
“Gee? Come on Gee, time to wake up. I have your breakfast,” Mikey called out, walking into his brother’s bedroom. He placed the tray down on his bedside table and sighed. Gerard had tried to draw again yesterday, but it clearly didn’t go well. There were broken pencils and a torn-up sketch book on the side of Gerard’s hospital bed. Mikey gathered them up and placed them on the table.
“Already?” Gerard groaned, speaking through his C-PAP mask that helps him breathe right at night during sleep. He sleepily opened up his hazel eyes and looked down at his mess of failed art in discontent, knowing that his beloved craft has been drifting further and further away from the lacking ability of his sick, gradually atrophying body.
“Yeah, I have your egg whites, turkey bacon, and whole grain toast with apple butter,” Mikey said, examining the food in front of him he prepared for Gerard. To be honest, Mikey wouldn’t touch this food with a ten foot pole, but it was the diet that the doctor said would be best for him.
“Thank you,” Gerard smiled a bit, shutting his eyes from the lack of sleep he got last night, no thanks to the voices and nightmares. “Just leave it by my bedside table for now. I’ll wake up and call you to feed me in a bit,”
“No, Gee. Come on now,” Mikey protested, already annoyed with his brother. “Your new caretaker comes today. You need to be awake and ready to greet him!” he said, picking up the tray and bringing it to the bed, getting a forkful of egg whites ready for Gerard as he removed his C-PAP. “Now come on, eat,”
“New caretaker?” A bewildered Gerard asked, his brow furrowed. “Since when?”
“Gee, you know that Marco is not working out. He’s an ass, and I swear he laughs at you when you are having one of your episodes. Plus…,” Mikey paused, not even wanting to think about the way the guy looked at Gerard when he bathed him Saturday night. “I just...he needs to go,”
“You’re right, Mikes,” Gerard nodded. “I got some strange vibes around that guy. Who’s the new caregiver?”
“I think his name is Frank or Fred, I don’t honestly remember. I was really pissed when I made the phone call to the agency and I didn’t really pay attention, sorry,” Mikey said, sitting down at the end of the bed and taking Gerard’s hand. “I just want you to be taken care of, like you deserve,”
“I know, Mikey,” Gerard sighed. “I just hate seeing you and other caregivers bust your ass off for me. I know taking care of me must be a real burden...and sadly, there’s not much I can do about it. I’m waiting to die,”
“Gerard, please don’t say that!” Mikey groaned, knowing which side of Gerard is starting to come out--one he doesn’t like at all. “You know that there are people that lived with ALS for many years and--”
“And what? The longer you live, the longer your suffer,” Gerard scoffed. “Hopefully the fucking disease will kill me much sooner than some of these other people that had it for that long. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would wanna live like this, am I right?”
“Gee…,” Mikey sighed. He hated when Gerard got like this. There was no talking to him. He was too damn sick of seeing his brother get so pessimistic about his miserable sick life. Gerard's clearly accepted that he’ll die soon, but maybe...he’s accepted it too much. “I’ll wait in the living room for the caregiver,” he said, dropping Gerard’s hand and headed for the bedroom door.
Gerard knew his brother was sick of when he got cynical, but how else was he supposed to get his feelings of self-loathing and worthlessness off his chest? He had lost his ability to sing from how slurred his voice had gotten, as well as his special touch in art, due to his hands losing coordination. He huffed, taking his plate of breakfast to start eating, or else feel Mikey’s wrath of force-feeding him tons of low-sodium food and gallons of Ensure. He attempted to get himself a bite of his egg whites and bacon, struggling with his shoddy grasp around the fork. He shakily brought the food up to his mouth, just to lose concentration in his grip and drop the food all over his shirt. Already annoyed, Gerard breathed out deeply, knowing that the process of feeding himself is gonna be long and gruelling. He knew sooner or later he won't be able pick up anything, let alone a fork to feed himself. He also will sooner or later will have to have a feeding tube hooked up to pump liquid into his stomach. However, there’s one thing a part of him is happy about--his new caregiver he’s yet to meet for the first time, named Fred or Frank. He just hoped in the back of his mind that he’s not another Marco.
_ _ _
Frank just made it to the apartment complex that the Ways live in--a twenty story building that clearly has the word money written all over it. Nancy wasn't kidding when she said that Gerard and Mikey live in an upper-class part of Newark.
”Come on, Frank. Positive vibes here,” he whispered to himself, already feeling the hairs on his neck rise, his heart race. He took a deep breath, got off the motorcycle and placed the helmet on the seat. He walked up the ornate path and into the building, making his way up the elevator to the eighteenth floor, to room 1823, where the Ways await for his arrival. He knocked on the door, feeling his heart stop dead in its tracks as the knocks echoed throughout the hallway. Mikey opened up the door almost immediately, stunning Frank by how fast it took, like he was far more than just expecting his arrival. Mikey smiled warmly, stepping outside to greet his old high school friend.
“Good to see you, Frank. It’s been a while,” he said, eyeing Frank’s scrubs he’s wearing up and down through his thin-frame glasses. “Look at you, man. Hard to believe a punk kid like you took on the nursing field…,”
“Mikey fucking Way, what a small world this is. Fucking Jersey!” Frank stepped up and hugged Mikey, the two high school buddies reunited once again after far too long. Yeah, it wasn’t proper protocol, but he’s pretty sure protocol is out the window when you play spin the bottle with someone. “I was so shocked to hear about Gerard…,” he said, whatever chipper and carefree joy of their reunion they had gone within seconds.
“I know, I’d imagine you’d be. We all were when we got the news about the diagnosis while he was away at university…,” Mikey paused, taking a moment to explain to Gerard’s new caregiver what he’s soon to be up against. “Well...I’m assuming your care agency told you enough about him, right? You think you can handle it?”
“Like I could handle him in high school,” Frank said, pulling off his sunglasses and winking at Mikey, making him laugh a bit.
“Alright, man. You sure you don’t need to know more before I go? You got my number?” The smile on Mikey’s face quickly faded, turning to a concerned look. “Cause if anything happens...please call me, okay?”
“Nah, I got this. This ain’t my first rodeo, y’know. Go on to work, Mikes. I’m sure Gerard and I will be fine,” Frank smiled, patting Mikey on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Hey, Chinese on me for dinner when you get back. We can bullshit about old times,”
“Sounds good, man,” Mikey smiled back a bit, taking out his car keys. “Well, though guy...go on in and say hi. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again. I don’t even think he knows it’s you that’s gonna be his new caregiver. Thought I’d surprise him, y’know?”
“Same old Mikey Way,” Frank laughed as the younger Way left to make his way to to his car downstairs. After waving goodbye, Frank headed into the apartment room, slowly opening up the front door to be reunited with another one of Frank’s old high school pals--the socially awkward and artsy old friend named Gerard Way, now with a disease so devastating and unforgiving.

Notes