At the hospital
And most of the ‘patients’ don’t even look like they’re suffering. A couple do; there’s one older man in the corner, who came in a little after we did, and he’s cradling his hand with a bloody towel wrapped around it. There’s also a bright smear of blood on his shirt, making me gag and look away. Another woman is holding her kid who’s been paper white and twitching the entire time.
And then there’s Gerard. He’s curled into a little ball on a double-seated chair, which I actually think is for really fat people, but nobody says anything to him as he naps. It’s kind of scary actually. I’ve never, ever seen him like this; all silent and docile. I can tell he truly feels like shit because normal Gerard would take every opportunity to people watch and make endless remarks on all insignificant things around him. He’s said maybe two words, and they were really a handful of jumbled nonsense he sighed out to the nurse before collapsing onto a chair. Now he’s just staring off into space, trying his hardest to not spit up his lungs onto the floor. He shudders deeply and looks at me, “Will you rub my back?”
His voice is so raw and pathetic that I almost feel like crying. Fuck, I don’t know how to take care of sick people, seeing as how I’m too usually busy being sick myself. I reach over and stroke him between the shoulders, my hand curling up to play with the tattered fringes of his hair. My phone vibrates in my pocket and Gerard mimics the sound before coughing. I fish it out and flip it open, facing a picture of Mikeyway reaching through a fence to pet a baby buffalo at a petting zoo somewhere in Texas.
any word on G?
I look over at his prone form and sigh, typing out: Still waiting :(
Gerard gives a deep, wet cough, his back shaking as he hacks towards the floor, and stuffs his face into the front of his hoodie to keep quiet. I rub his shoulders again, cooing quietly to him. He’s talking, or his mouth is moving at least, but he’s not making any noise. I wonder if he’s dreaming…
“Gerard Way?” a timid voice calls.
Both our eyes shoot up to a nurse dressed in hideous purple scrubs. She looks as tired as we do, and sighs when a baby in the far corner wakes from his nap and starts screaming. I raise my hand and stand up, before pulling Gerard into me and holding him close. His steps are slow and uneven, and I can feel his shoulders shaking against mine as we shuffle across the room. The nurse smiles, and opens a frosted glass door, taking us down a hallway lined with beds and dividers. He has another bout of shivering and practically curls up under my arm. He’s still wearing that stupid mask, too, so I tug it down to hang around his neck. It actually looks kind of badass.
All the beds we pass are full, and every few seconds someone coughs or vomits or cries out in pain. The nurse turns to face us, “As you can tell, we’re swamped, and there isn’t a doctor available right now. But you can lay down and I’ll get a chart started so we can treat you that much faster.” She calls, bustling down the hallway.
I drown out what the girl is saying, paying attention to the trembling man who is getting harder and harder to carry with every step we take. An old man in a robe toddles past us, giving Gerard and I the dirtiest look and I just glare back. Fuck him. We pay taxes for his social security and his medicare. He can fuck off and break a hip for all I care.
“Frankie?” Gee mumbles.
I look over, and realized we’ve stopped at an empty bed. I lower him onto it, and he sighs in relief, falling back onto the pillows and closing his eyes. The nurse closes the curtain around the bed and I tuck myself into a chair against the wall. I keep silent as she takes his vitals, but reach out to hold his hand when he whimpers. She gasps a little at his temperature, gaping at me, “How long has he had this fever?”
I shrug, “6 hours? I dunno, he seemed fine last night before bed.”
The nurse nods and writes everything down before she starts asking Gerard questions. Or rather, she asks him questions and he just stares at me until I answer for him. The nurse seems satisfied with this, though, and sets her clipboard at the end of the bed. She’s pulling the curtain aside when Gee calls out for her. “I’m cold,” he cries.
I start rubbing his arms even though I know he was trying to talk to the nurse. He clears his throat but ends up choking. “Can I have a blanket?” he calls, voice louder but still feeble.
The nurse turns and frowns sympathetically, “No, not yet, sweetie. You’ve got a high fever and the doctor may not want you bundled up.” She explains.
I can feel my heart breaking for him. “Not even one?” I ask, looking at her with my most charming face.
But she shakes her head and pets Gerard’s hair a little, “No, hunny, I really can’t. But he’ll be seen right away because of the fever, so a doctor should be back here soon,” she explains, her voice calming and nice.
He moans but the girl ignores him and leaves his bedside, drawing the divider around the bed for privacy. He whines and rolls onto his side, curling around our intertwined hands. I kiss his sweltering cheek, and smirk devilishly when I see one of those horrid hospital gowns sitting on the corner of the mattress. Maybe I could cheer him up a little…
“You should change. Here, I’ll help you,” I say nonchalantly, my free hand drawing circles on his chest.
He laughs at this, though, and starts to blush. “I really can’t right now…” he mumbles, his smirk going wider.
I roll my eyes. “No one is going to see you naked,” I console, though my tone is reprimanding.
He giggles and closes his eyes. “It’s not that,” he mumbles, running his hands up and down his pajama pants, “I’m not wearing any underwear right now…”
My mouth drops open and I can feel my dick twinge. Okay, shit. Shit. That was the first thing he told me when we got together, his lips flush against my ear and his hot breath racing down my neck. And now, in the worst situation ever, he says it again to me, still smirking and tittering like a horny school girl. It’s kind of weird, actually. Gerard is very self-conscious about himself and his body; always anxious about how he looked and how people thought he looked. But he never wore anything under his clothes, which is probably why the man wears pants and jackets even in the dead of summer. He baffles me still, really.
“You honestly think I care? Take your jacket off.” I order, grabbing the gown off the end of the mattress.
It’s pale green cotton, pilled and shabby, with a questionable rust-colored stain along the collar. He gags at it, too, but then sighs and wrenches himself off the pillows. I slip a hand under his shoulders, helping him sit up. His breathing hitches and he coughs, before he pulls at his zipper and slides the ratty jacket off himself and onto the floor. I then reach over and pull off his shirt despite him going completely limp as I tugged it off. He groans the entire time he’s shirtless, barely cooperating as I pull his arms through the sleeves of the gown. Finally though, I get it on him and knot up ties in the back. He’s practically drowning in the fabric, and it makes him look even paler and sicklier than before. He collapses back into the pillow with a relieved sigh, closing his eyes along the way. I sit back down in my chair but I don’t take my hands off him. He blinks his eyes open, carefully watching my every move as my hands trail down from his shoulders to the waist band of his pants. He stares at me groggily, “You’re kidding, right?”
I shake my head and smirk, slipping my fingers under the elastic. I scratch at the skin of his hip and he jerks under my touch. He shudders and tries to twist away from me, pawing at my hands, “Frankie, I really don’t—“
I roll my eyes and press a finger to his lips. “I’m not gonna fuck you,” I re-assure, my hands going back to his sides, “Just wanna make you feel better.”
He makes a little noise and squirms again, “No, we’ll get caught,” he argues tiredly.
I shake my head and plunge my hand down the front of his pants, smiling wickedly. Gerard gasps and writhes beneath me, “Frankie, no!” he whines.
“Shhh,” I whisper, tugging on him lightly, “Just keep quiet. No one will bother us.”
He coughs roughly when I give him an enthusiastic yank and has to turn his face into his pillow to stifle the moan. I giggle endlessly, kissing his belly, “Just relax, okay?” I mutter into his skin.
He finally does, sinking into his pillows and closing his eyes. I stroke him slowly a few times before frowning and pulling my hand away. He cracks open an eye, “Why’d you stop?” he croaks.
“Too dry,” I grunt, and start rooting around for my wallet.
He watches me in a daze, not saying a word. I open my wallet and poke around, checking every pocket for the flash of sliver. I like to keep lube with me at all times, as sexual spontaneity is kind of our turn on. I used to keep condoms, too, but after a year together Gerard got offended if I wore one. Not that I’m complaining about that.
Finally I find one and carefully pull it out and tear along the slit. I use one hand to tug his pants down to his knees, the other precariously holding onto the little packet of lube. Once he’s situated I start stroking him again, smiling when he relaxes and grins to himself. I speed up and he moans in appreciation, hips bucking up a little. He does a good job of staying quiet, only making little gasps every few moments. I think I’ll change that though.
“Babe,” I whisper, pulling my hands away, “Spread your legs.”
He grunts at this so I just push them apart myself. My hand lingers on his thigh for a moment, feeling the muscles quiver. Wordlessly I push two fingers inside of him and he lets out a throaty moan, “Oh, god, Frankie…”
I slap his thigh a little, “Be quiet.”
He sighs and nods, going limp again. While he may be the submissive one, I’ve never seen him so pliant, so yielding. He can take anything and usually gives it back just as fierce. But today he’s just lying there, reluctantly obeying my commands. I push my fingers in further and can feel myself getting harder. He’s hot, so hot inside that all I want to do is dive inside of him and never come out. I curl my digits up and his legs flail beneath the sheet. He’s biting onto his lip to keeping from making any noise and it makes him look so innocent. It’s not that’s he particularly loud during sex; I just think he’s trying not to get in trouble. Which, honestly, who hasn’t fucked in a hospital before?
My hand moves faster and I lean over his chest to press kisses all over his face. He turns and whimpers into my neck, one of his hands going around my back and fisting up in my shirt. “Don’t stop,” he gasps.
Sweat begins to drape his torso, and when he goes to let out a guttural moan, a sickly cough bursts from his throat, spraying my face with mucus and spit. He groans and falls back on the pillow, pushing me off of him and wheezing into his shoulder. I pull out of him and stand there feeling dumb. “Gee?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, just keeps hacking and panting, now on his side and taking in shaky breaths. I frown and go over to the medicine cabinet, taking handfuls of paper towels to wipe off my face and hands. Gerard is still coughing, and there are faint moans of pain in between his ragged breaths. I sigh and pull the chair away from the wall and next to the bed, watching him breathe the entire time. Sitting down, I take his hand in mine and start rubbing soothing circles into his palm. His breathing relaxes and slows down, and before I know it, he’s asleep and I’m left alone and twitchy in the ER. Goddammit. I thought that nurse said we’d be getting a doctor soon, and where did she go anyways?
I prop my face up with my fist, staring down at his sleeping form. I hate this. I hate hospitals, I hate when people get sick, and I especially hate feeling so useless. I’m more used to caring for headaches and muscles cramps or the occasional concussion. And Gerard rarely gets sick, especially to the point where he runs a fever and has to be taken to the hospital. That’s more my forte.
Gerard coughs in his sleep and curls up tighter than before, the top of his knees almost brushing against his chin. I start to stroke his cheeks, cussing out God and everything around me when I realize his fever has spiked. Oh my god I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do. I think I should call Mikey but I can’t just abandon Gerard here. I’m not going to leave. I’m not going out into a stuffy waiting room while my anxiety-ridden mega phobic fiancé has a shit ton of needles and wires poked into him. He needs me, or else someone’s going to end up with a black eye and he’s gonna work himself into a panic attack. And, oh holy shit he coughed on me. Jesus fuck now I’m going to be sick and we’ll both be stuck here and no one will be happy.
I’m so busy having a nervous breakdown I didn’t hear the nurse pulling back the curtain. The nurse is a different one than the one in the waiting room. An older woman with messy red hair pulled down at the nape of her neck. She has a kind, matronly smile and smells like sugar cookies. The doctor, however, is young and handsome and has a kind of pretentious air about him. He reminds me of the bitchy blonde doctor from ‘House’.
Gerard’s left eye cracks open, and his cranes his neck back to stare at the doctor at the end of the bed, “Y-Yeah?” he murmurs.
The man pulls the metal clipboard from the end of the bed, standing opposite me as he scrolls over the nurse’s notes. Finally he sets it down and looks at Gerard, “Hello, I’m Dr. Edwards. What’s seems to be going on?” he asks
Gerard coughs and shrugs, “’M sick.”
The doctor smiles, though, and presses a hand to Gerard’s forehead and neck. “I can see that,” he laughs, “When did the symptoms start?”
But Gerard groans and turns his face into the pillow, clearly not wanting to talk. I grab his hand and answer for him, “About 2 this morning is when he started coughing. He’s had a fever since then, too.”
The doctor nods and pulls his stethoscope from around his neck, motioning for Gerard to sit up. He groans at the thought of being moved and both me and the doctor have to help him into a sitting position. He slumps over instantly, babbling nonsense into his lap. Great, now he’s a giant noodle, this should be interesting to deal with.
I try to drag him upright again but he just keeps doubling over and the doctor insists that it’s fine. It’s not fine, though, and I make him straighten out again, pressing a hand to his shoulder blades to keep him steady.
“Work with me here,” I hiss, pressing a little harder.
But he just whines and looks dead-pan back at me, “Don’ be mean ta me,”
The doctor clears his throat and I try to move out of his way. He listens to his heart first, and I’m kind of afraid to say anything in case he needs total quiet. He then presses the instrument to Gerard’s back, frowning a little at the sound of his lungs. I frown, too, and try not to panic. “So, uhh, what is it?”
The doctor presses his fingers to Gerard’s throat, feeling his lymph nodes and sighing to himself, “It looks and sounds like pneumonia but I’ll need to run some tests to be sure.”
Pneumonia? Oh, fuck, I was definitely not ready to deal with pneumonia. I nod and run my hand the length of Gerard’s spine, feeling the air rattling in his chest. The doctor pulls a small flashlight from his coat pocket, waving it back and forth in front of Gerard’s eyes before checking his nose and throat. I shift, suddenly feeling very in the way, “Um, what tests? Will they take long?”
The doctor shrugs and helps Gerard lie back down. “The blood work may take a few hours, and hopefully I can get him down to radiology within that time.” He explains, putting the stethoscope back around his neck.
I nod again. God, I feel like an idiot right now. “Radiology?”
The doctor doesn’t answer right away, instead he writes down orders on Gerard’s chart. “He needs a chest x-ray; I can hear a lot of fluid in the right lung.”
Oh holy fuck. I mean, that’s not anything out of the ordinary for me, but Gerard falls to shit when he hits his head. He’s not going to be happy about those blood tests, either…
I grab Gerard’s hand, practically throwing myself in the chair beside him. He looks a little freaked out himself and blanches when he notices the nurse setting up the IV stand next to the bed. The doctor whispers a few words to her before she turns to a cart behind her and starts pulling out vials of medicine. Gerard whimpers and the doctor puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Rebecca is going to give you some drugs that should make you feel better,” he explains, looking at the both of us, “And if we can get your fever down, I’ll send you home.”
Gerard nods but then coughs, so I reply for him, “And if not?”
The doctor sighs, looking sympathetic, “He’ll need to stay the night, at least.”
I groan loudly and start to complain but Gerard shrieks and half pulls me on top of him, legs flailing the entire time. I look over and watch the nurse pull the butterfly needle from its sterile packaging, setting it down on a tray set up behind the bed. She’s already got the tourniquet around his bicep and cleaning the inside of his elbow, which is what probably grabbed his attention. The doctor looks taken aback by his outburst and just gapes at me like I’m somehow responsible. I grab Gerard’s chin, pulling his face into mine. “Hey, calm down,” I coo, making his eyes lock with mine.
He whines, though, “But you don’t—”
I roll my eyes and hush him before he can finish. “Don’t what? Know how you feel?” I ask, stroking his cheek, “I know you’re scared but if you don’t calm down they can’t help you.”
He looks over at the needle and gulps audibly. “It’ll hurt,” He squeaks.
I smile and kiss his nose, “Yeah for like one second. And I’m right here.”
He looks ready to cry and only repeats, “But you don’t—”
There’s a scream and it feels like my hand is being crushed and my arm is being pulled from the socket. I look up and the nurse is smirking while she fills vacutainers with blood; Gerard groaning loudly and flopping his head around on the pillow. “You cheated,” he cries.
She hooks a line of clear tubing into the port before wrapping the injection site in gauze. He looks confused and she grins up at him. “So you won’t see the needle,” she clarifies.
He makes a small noise and settles back against the mattress, finally sitting still. The doctor sighs and grabs onto the railing of the bed, giving me a desperate look. I just shrug, though, and squeeze Gerard’s hand. The doctor sighs again and turns back for the curtain. “The medicine will make you sleep,” he says, sounding almost relieved, “And I’ll have you down for the x-ray soon.”
Gerard nods weakly and turns onto his side, curling around his IV-ed arm. The nurse gives him the last of the drugs and starts to head away with the cart. When I notice Gerard shivering, though, I stop her. “Can he get a blanket now?” I call.
She smiles and nods, pulling back the curtain as she goes. Gerard coughs and shudders, before going still and watching his saline drip with a lazy fascination. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and suddenly remember I’m supposed to call Brian. I look over at Gee and rub his arm, “I’m going to call Brian. Do you want me to call Mikey, too?”
He shrugs and closes his eyes, so I take that as my blessing to leave. I walk out quickly; I really don’t wanna deal with the waiting room right now. I go outside and sit inside the bus stop, pulling out my pack of smokes and lighting one up. It’s barely 9 o’clock, which means it’s still cold as hell outside. But I’m at least out of the biting wind behind a sheet of Plexiglas. I look up at the hospital and gag a little. It’s so stark and bland, almost dissolving into the steely gray sky behind it. I think now I understand Gerard’s aversion for all things medical. He’s so vibrant and free, and seeing him be so restrained is not as a welcomed change as I’d thought. An ambulance roars past and I sigh, opening my phone and flipping through my contacts for Mikey’s number. I really hope they let Gerard go home tonight but I have a feeling that’s not going to happen. I also really hope he doesn’t lose his voice because the last time that happened I truly thought he was going to kill himself and drag me down with him. The phone rings on the other end and start chewing on my nails. Mikey sounds tired but assures me that he’s on his way, which makes me think he’d been staring at his phone ready to go until I called. When he hangs up I sigh and bury my face in my hands, groaning. This is going to a long, shitty day and I’m really really not looking forward to it. I only text Brian pneumonia and just hope that he’s satisfied with that until I actually call and fill him in on the details. I pull my jacket closer to myself and head back inside. Slinking back down the ER ward, I walk with my head down, until I reach almost the very last bed. The curtain is still open and Gerard is curled up, asleep. There’s also some blankets piled on top of him, and I smile a little when I see he’s no longer shivering. I plop down in the chair, laying my head down on the mattress. Gerard doesn’t stir when I say his name so I close my eyes. I guess now… I wait.
So, since I've starting re-writing this it's already doubled in size. D:. But that only means more for you to read! I should have more posted soon, loves.