FicWad

Gerard's POV

"Grandma!" I called, two hours later. Frank and I had walked into my house as the sun was beginning to set. As we shut the door behind us, I heard a chair being pushed back in the kitchen. The next thing I knew, Grandma was in front of me, tightening her arms around me hard in a hug. Damn, for such a little woman, she sure can squeeze hard. I tried not to let the pain show on my face; the slash on my chest was still sore.

"Gerard, baby! I was so worried! You didn't come home for three days!" she shrieked, crying tears of joy. Then, seeing Frankie, she did the same to him, squeezing the life out of him as well. "Frankie! Where were you boys? Don't ever scare me like that again!"

"I'm sorry, Grandma," I apologized, unwilling to explain why I dragged Frankie and Bob out there in the first place. After all, it was because I got drunk.

"Are you alright?" Grandma kept questioning. "Where were you? What happened to your faces?" All the questions were starting to get annoying, but what was a grandmother supposed to do? After all, she had just seen her two grandsons (since that's how she sees Frank now) walk in the house after three days of being missing, with blood and bandages all over their faces.

"Grandma, we're fine, really," I said, trying not to wince as she hugged me again. "We just got into a little... trouble. I'll explain everything later."

"Trouble? Oh, Gerard, please tell me what happened! You had me worried sick!"

"I know. I'm really sorry."

Grandma lowered her voice: "Donna and Mikey visited while you were gone, I—"

"We know," I interrupted, looking down at my shoes. I could feel my face turn beet red with embarrassment.

"You do? Gerard?" she asked, waiting for an explanation. When I could give her none, Frank stepped in.

"We heard Mikey was coming to visit you and Gerard in Belleville this weekend," he said. I silently prayed he wouldn't tell her the whole story of why we left. "I came here after school and saw G..." He paused, thinking of something else to say. "I came here and freaked. I dragged Gee out of the house and took him with me. Gee and another one of our friends and I drove out of the city and just kept going."

I stared at him in shock. He just lied to help me! Even though he was originally mad at the fact that I had gotten drunk and practically kidnapped him!

"But..." Grandma started, trying to understand the whole picture. "Why would you be afraid of Mikey, Frank? Why did you feel like you had to run away?"

"It wasn't just Mikey, it was other guys at school, also."

When this answer didn't satisfy Grandma, I said, "Grandma, this is kind of a long story. Can you help us call someone's parents?"

"We can call whoever we need to after you tell me the reason you boys left. Let's have a seat."

We made our way to the couch and I decided to admit the real reason why we left.
"Grandma, Frank wasn't the reason we left, I was. He wasn't scared of Mikey. When I found out he was moving so close to us, I was the one that freaked out. I was scared, so I... Grandma, do you remember Bert?"

She looked taken aback, surprised at my sudden change of topic. "Yes, I remember everything," she said darkly, saving me an explanation. Another reason to love my grandma.

I took a deep breath. "Well, when I found out Mikey was moving, I sort of..." I paused, trying to decide how to put it. "Met up with an old friend of mine."

Grandma gasped. "Oh, no," she breathed. "Tell me you weren't drinking again..." I looked at the floor again and suddenly became very fascinated with the carpet.

"Yeah," I confirmed, ashamed. "I was. And it was because I was drinking that I got Frank and this guy named Bob into so much trouble. Grandma, can you help us contact his parents? I want to tell them what happened, since their son's been missing for a few days. I don't want them to worry."

"Yes, the phone book's in the desk in my room. Go get it, Gerard."

I did, and found "Bryar" near the beginning of the book. Grandma took the phone book from me and dialed the number under the name that I showed her. She then handed me the phone, and I was briefly horrified.

"Me?" I whispered, and she nodded. I figured that since I had gotten Bob into all this trouble, then the least I could do was tell his parents. I took the phone and waited for someone to answer.

"Hello?" a worried voice asked.

"Hi, uh, Mrs. Bryar?" I was nervous to tell her what I was about to tell her.

"Yes?"

"Uh, my name is, uh, Gerard Way. I know your son, Bob."

"You know where he is? Is he okay?"

I winced; those were the two questions I really regretted to tell her. "Yes, he's fine.” For now. “You see, he's kind of in the hospital as we speak, and..."
I was cut off by her shrill shriek. "My son is in the hospital? What happened to him? Tell me, now!"

"Well, he was trying to help me and this other boy get out of Belleville, because we were... running away from someone. Only, the people we were running away from happened to meet us on our way back to Belleville, and he..." I paused to take a breath.

"Go on! Tell me why my son is in the hospital!" I could hear her tears through the phone, and I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't tell her. Frankie stood up and took the phone from me, grabbing a hold of my hand to comfort me.

"Mrs. Bryar? Please calm down. I assure you, Bob is just fine. When we were getting back to Belleville, we ran into a kid at our school who had a knife. He stabbed Bob, but Bob was being looked at when we left Monroeville, and you should get a call from the hospital sometime tonight," Frank told Bob's mom. After talking to her for a few more minutes, he said goodbye and hung up.

"I could've done it," I said, looking once again at the floor.

"I know," he replied. "I was just helping you out. Now I have to call my mom," he told me, pulling out his phone. He walked into the kitchen, giving himself some privacy, leaving me with Grandma, who was white as a ghost.

"Don't worry, Grandma. We're all fine," I lied, smiling in attempts to reassure her.

"Oh, Gerard! You didn't tell me there was a knife involved! What if you had been killed? Do you know the person at your school that did this? I promise you, that person will be behind bars faster than he can say 'I'm innocent.' Who was it, Gerard?"

I stayed silent, not wanting to point the finger at her other grandson.

"Gerard? Answer me, hon."

"It was Mikey," I said quietly. "He was trying to get Frankie."

Grandma gasped. "Your brother did this? My God... but why?"

"He and two other friends of his didn't like the fact that I still like guys," I explained. "Or, to be more precise, Frank."

She nodded, understanding. Neither one of us said anything for a few moments, but then Frank walked in, pale-faced.

"My mom's in the hospital," he informed us. "She passed out while she was drunk, and she didn't wake up."

Grandma and I looked at him in shock. That could have damn well happened to me!

“Do you want me to drive you to go see her?” Grandma asked quietly, getting up to give Frankie a hug. Frank's face turned a light shade of pink, and he hesitated before nodding timidly.

"If it's not too much trouble," he said, sounding embarrassed, as if he were making Grandma sacrifice everything in order to drive him ten minutes away.

"It's no problem, sweetie. I'll go get my coat; you boys wait in the car for me." Grandma left the living room, and Frank turned to me.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and looked at the floor.

"I don't know why you're apologizing," I said, holding out my arm to wrap him in a hug.
He took a step towards me and rested his head on my shoulder.

"I knew this was going to happen," he mumbled into my shirt. It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to me, so I didn't respond. "That's two people in the hospital. I told her this would happen if she didn't stop drinking so much."

I remained silent, for what could I say? I couldn't tell him everything would be okay; I wasn't sure of that myself. Instead I hugged him tighter and rubbed his back in small circles, hoping the warmth of my hand would be comforting enough.

I looked up and saw Grandma standing by the door, motioning for us to get in the car. "Come on, Frankie. Let's go see your mom before visiting hours are over." I grabbed his hand and led him to the car.

"Do you know her room number, hon?" she asked Frank once we were on the way to the hospital. Frank replied with a yes, then fell silent again. Within ten minutes, we were at the hospital that Frank's mom was in, and the three of us got out of the car after parking a long way from the building.

Hospitals are always so busy, I thought to myself. You never see an empty hospital. I had a certain loathing for hospitals; I was in them a lot when I was depressed and doing drugs.

No one was at the front desk as we entered the lobby, so we showed ourselves to the elevator. Hopefully no one would ask questions.

"Down this way," Frank pointed, and we got out of the elevator.

The all-too-familiar buzz of the hospital hit me as we walked down the hall: the busy-looking nurses at the desk, the white walls and shiny tiles, that eerie silence. A few colorful, abstract pictures decorated the walls, hung in attempt to soften the blinding white. There weren't enough to fully damper the closing white abyss, however, and nothing could ever soften the steady beeps of the machines that would continue to haunt me forever.

"Frankie, doll, this is a dead-end," Grandma pointed out.

"What? This isn't even the right floor!" Frank realized, and grumbled as we made our way back to the elevator. Grandma couldn't help but laugh a little at him, and he shot her a playful glare. It reminded me of the time they had made pancakes as a contest; it seemed as if they were family. The three of us were a big, happy family. Too bad that isn't even possible anymore.

My thoughts were interrupted once we got off the elevator on another floor. I was drowning in white; I heard nothing but the beeps through the silence that I swore I would never return to. I felt as if I were going crazy; thoughts were racing through my head like they do after I've had quite a few drinks or hits.

Even though I wasn't even the one in the hospital this time, I decided visiting someone else was just as bad. Memories came back to me and surrounded me like a hungry pack of wolves surrounded a helpless deer, or whatever else it is wolves eat. Going in for the kill.

I couldn't breathe; the hall seemed to be growing longer, and the familiar hospital setting was going to kill me. I was in a nightmare. I've died like I deserved, and this hospital was my hell.

"Here it is," Frank said, pushing a door open, and I remembered why I was going through this hell. I felt a hand on my shoulder; Grandma was ushering me into Frank's mom's room.

I looked at Frankie as he walked over to his mom, who was lying on the bed with an IV stuck in her hand. He remained quiet for a second. Poor guy, he must be in hell, too.

Sometimes you have to go to hell to see if you're strong enough for heaven, I guess.