Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 103
“Frankie?”
I peek out from the kitchen, trying to balance a stack of plates with one hand. He’d been home for about day now, after spending the weekend in the hospital. He’d come down with a rather nasty case of pneumonia, and it left him helpless and weak. I’d been tending to his every whim and need, though mostly he sleeps or stares mindlessly at the TV. Sadie’s been by his side since we came home, curled up against his chest, occasionally licking his face as a sign of comfort. I tried to do the same, but he started whining and slapping at the air to get me off of him. The microwave beeps, pulling me out of my stupor and telling me the soup I’d made for lunch was done cooking. Grabbing the pill bottles from the counter, I stride quietly out of the kitchen, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “I’m here, babe. You need to take your pills too,”
He smiles and sits up, wrapping the quilt close to him and stifling a cough with his forearm.
“What kinda soup is it?”
I crinkle my brow and sit down beside him.
“That vegetarian lentil shit I made on Thursday…”
Shrugging, he picks up the bowl and buries the spoon into the soup, grinning when a plume of steam rushes to his face. I grab the remote and start flipping through the channels, trying to find something mildly entertaining. Garden show, cartoon, infomercial, half-naked girl, MTV, bald dude eating weird shit…
Gerard coughs sickly next to me, dropping the bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Sadie jumps up and starts barking, bounding down off the couch and licking up the brown and green mush soaking into the carpet.
“Sadie! NO!”
I push her away and pick up the bowl, trying to salvage whatever is left in it, and rushing into the kitchen to grab some paper towels. Gerard keeps coughing, his head down and face buried into the blankets. I groan and bustle around, trying to keep myself from screaming and jumping through the window. I’m sick all the time, and Gerard does nothing but bend over backwards to make sure I’m comfortable every waking moment I’m ill. I guess I should stop being such an impatient ass and help him. I wring a dish towel dry and shuffle back to the couch, tossing it over the half eaten pile on the floor. He smiles weakly at me, falling over and resting his head on my shoulder. I think the cough syrup is kicking in.
“Frankie, I wanna bath.”
I cock my eyebrow and push the hair from his eyes.
“Gee, it’s almost 3 in the afternoon, and you had a shower this morning.”
He shrugs cutely and coughs into my neck, nuzzling my skin and grazing his teeth along my tattoos. I shudder and gently pry him off me, pressing him down into the blankets and pulling a quilt across his chest.
“You need to eat and get some sleep, then you can take a bath.”
“I tried eating, but I coughed it all up!”
He tosses his hands weakly into the air, his eyes rolling back into his skull and his voice cracking. He giggles when he collapses into the pillows, his torso slipping off the couch and crashing into the coffee table. Shrieking, I reach out to grab him, only ripping the collar of his shirt in the process. He looks up from the floor, eyes glazed and face carrying an expression of confusion and pain. I grab onto his wrists and pull him back up, brushing down the front of his shirt and tutting in concern.
“You’re so drugged up you couldn’t even spell your own name.”
He giggles again, burrowing into his pillows and smiling into the cartoon-print fabric.
“I’m not on drugs, Frankie. I’m super clean.”
I smile inwardly and bring my forefinger under his chin, turning him towards me and kissing his lips.
“I need to run to the store and pick up some groceries, will you be okay for an hour or two?”
Nodding drunkenly, he curls up under the blankets, his face finally relaxing into a calm, even expression. I bring my hands up to his cheeks, stroking the hot, flushed skin with a shaky hand. Maybe I should call Mikey to come watch him, or just wait until he’s asleep to leave. But we have no food, and I can’t live off leftover soup. He sputters and groans, eyes flickering open and staring dazedly at me.
“Could I go with you?”
Despite every single neuron in my body is screaming no, I start to nod, and even help him find his shoes so we can leave. I don’t know what I’m thinking, and to be honest, I don’t care anymore. So what if I’m taking my hopped-up strung-out disease-ridden boyfriend grocery shopping? I certainly can’t leave him home alone, not in his state. And maybe I’ll just get a wheelchair or something and push him around while we shop. Either way, I’m sure this is an experience we’ll both remember.
+~+~+~+~
“Frankie, I don’t feel so good. I wanna go home.”
He’s been complaining for 30 minutes now.
“I’m so close to being finished, baby, just hold on a bit longer.”
“Frankie, really, I feel like I’m gonna barf.”
I sigh and ruffle his hair, tossing a box of crackers into the cart. He moans quietly and buries his face into my shoulder, mumbling into the heavy fabric. I wrap an arm around his waist, grabbing a bottle of laundry detergent as I do so. People around us give us condescending looks, some of them even walking the other way in disgust. Gerard doesn’t notice, in fact I think ht’s oblivious to everything around us, only taking the time to open his eyes to regain his bearings. I push the cart towards the checkout lanes, all the while balancing a 150 pound man on my left shoulder. The cashier gives us both strange looks, chewing on her lip ring nervously, and she stares me down almost the entire time she’s ringing things up. Gerard’s giggling mindlessly as a rack of celebrity magazines, tugging on my shirtsleeve.
“Why ain’t we on those, Frankie? I’m famous enough.”
I roll my eyes and hand the girl my credit card.
“Because no one likes gay people.”
“’M not gay… just have a boyfriend.”
He half collapses into me, eyes clouded in a Nyquil induced haze. I drag him upright, grabbing the heavy paper bags and plopping them down into the cart. He stumbles behind me, coughing into his hands and whining incessantly.
“Fraaankie… nnnugh…”
I turn around and see him bent double over an island of flowers, vomiting and coughing. Everyone just stops and stares, muttering to one another and not even bothering to help. God, I’m never taking him out in public again. Once he’s finished, he just kinda glares at the yellowy puddle of sick pooling beneath him. I grab his arm and pull him with me, nearly throwing him into the passenger’s seat. I drive home in silence, beating myself for ever thinking it was a good idea to get him out of bed. Once we get back to the house, I park and look at him sternly.
“Gee just... ugh, go take a bath, then go to our room and sleep.”
He nods and climbs out shakily, shuffling inside and straight to the bathroom. I put away the groceries in silence, only listening to the sounds of water filling the tub and Gerard coughing softly. God, all I manage to buy when we go out is crap. The only food we live on are frozen meals and cereal. What can I say, we're 5 star chefs. Gerard coughs loudly from the bathroom, and the sound of water splashing to the floor pulls me from the pantry.
"Gee, you okay?"
"Uhhh... yeah..."
Liar.
"Are you sure?"
Cough. Hack.
"I'm sure."
I throw the last of the groceries into the freezer and walk into bathroom, where Gerard is sitting on the bathroom floor, soaking wet and miserable. I cross my arms.
"What happened?"
He sighs quietly and looks up at me like a drowning puppy.
"I puked in the water."
I groan to myself and walk over the the off-white tub, peering down into the sudsy water. That's weird, I don't see any puke.
"Gee... what are y-"
Next thing I know, before I can even chew him out for lying to me, I'm face first in the water and I'm swimming to the surface sputtering and coughing.
"Gerard Way, you dirty sonovabitch!"
He giggles softly, his eyes alight with mischief for the first time in days. I sigh and brush my hair from my eyes, pulling off my now soaked sweatshirt. He crawls over to me, snuggling into my chest and making this weird purring noise.
"I see your feeling better."
He nods wordlessly, tracing along my tattoos.
"Anytime I get to cause you grief makes me feel better."
"And I'm more than willing to hold back from sex for the next 6 months, mister."
He pouts playfully, and nuzzles against me./]
"Can you help me back into the tub?"
[/I nod, standing up and pulling his weak frame up with me. I ease him down into the water and sit on the edge of the tub, my hand molding to his cheek. He still feels hot with fever, but not so much that it burns when I touch him. He begins coughing, and slips down into the water until the fit is over, most of his wheezing muffled and turned into violent spasms of bubbles.
"My poor baby."
He shrugs, and chokes down a cough.
"I'm getting better."
I'm about to respond, when we both hear a strange growling noise coming from the opposite end of the room. Curious, I turn around and see Sadie sprawled across the tiles of the bathroom, her sharp teeth gnawing into my favorite pair of shoes.
"Sadie, no!"
Goddammit. I hate that dog.
I peek out from the kitchen, trying to balance a stack of plates with one hand. He’d been home for about day now, after spending the weekend in the hospital. He’d come down with a rather nasty case of pneumonia, and it left him helpless and weak. I’d been tending to his every whim and need, though mostly he sleeps or stares mindlessly at the TV. Sadie’s been by his side since we came home, curled up against his chest, occasionally licking his face as a sign of comfort. I tried to do the same, but he started whining and slapping at the air to get me off of him. The microwave beeps, pulling me out of my stupor and telling me the soup I’d made for lunch was done cooking. Grabbing the pill bottles from the counter, I stride quietly out of the kitchen, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “I’m here, babe. You need to take your pills too,”
He smiles and sits up, wrapping the quilt close to him and stifling a cough with his forearm.
“What kinda soup is it?”
I crinkle my brow and sit down beside him.
“That vegetarian lentil shit I made on Thursday…”
Shrugging, he picks up the bowl and buries the spoon into the soup, grinning when a plume of steam rushes to his face. I grab the remote and start flipping through the channels, trying to find something mildly entertaining. Garden show, cartoon, infomercial, half-naked girl, MTV, bald dude eating weird shit…
Gerard coughs sickly next to me, dropping the bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Sadie jumps up and starts barking, bounding down off the couch and licking up the brown and green mush soaking into the carpet.
“Sadie! NO!”
I push her away and pick up the bowl, trying to salvage whatever is left in it, and rushing into the kitchen to grab some paper towels. Gerard keeps coughing, his head down and face buried into the blankets. I groan and bustle around, trying to keep myself from screaming and jumping through the window. I’m sick all the time, and Gerard does nothing but bend over backwards to make sure I’m comfortable every waking moment I’m ill. I guess I should stop being such an impatient ass and help him. I wring a dish towel dry and shuffle back to the couch, tossing it over the half eaten pile on the floor. He smiles weakly at me, falling over and resting his head on my shoulder. I think the cough syrup is kicking in.
“Frankie, I wanna bath.”
I cock my eyebrow and push the hair from his eyes.
“Gee, it’s almost 3 in the afternoon, and you had a shower this morning.”
He shrugs cutely and coughs into my neck, nuzzling my skin and grazing his teeth along my tattoos. I shudder and gently pry him off me, pressing him down into the blankets and pulling a quilt across his chest.
“You need to eat and get some sleep, then you can take a bath.”
“I tried eating, but I coughed it all up!”
He tosses his hands weakly into the air, his eyes rolling back into his skull and his voice cracking. He giggles when he collapses into the pillows, his torso slipping off the couch and crashing into the coffee table. Shrieking, I reach out to grab him, only ripping the collar of his shirt in the process. He looks up from the floor, eyes glazed and face carrying an expression of confusion and pain. I grab onto his wrists and pull him back up, brushing down the front of his shirt and tutting in concern.
“You’re so drugged up you couldn’t even spell your own name.”
He giggles again, burrowing into his pillows and smiling into the cartoon-print fabric.
“I’m not on drugs, Frankie. I’m super clean.”
I smile inwardly and bring my forefinger under his chin, turning him towards me and kissing his lips.
“I need to run to the store and pick up some groceries, will you be okay for an hour or two?”
Nodding drunkenly, he curls up under the blankets, his face finally relaxing into a calm, even expression. I bring my hands up to his cheeks, stroking the hot, flushed skin with a shaky hand. Maybe I should call Mikey to come watch him, or just wait until he’s asleep to leave. But we have no food, and I can’t live off leftover soup. He sputters and groans, eyes flickering open and staring dazedly at me.
“Could I go with you?”
Despite every single neuron in my body is screaming no, I start to nod, and even help him find his shoes so we can leave. I don’t know what I’m thinking, and to be honest, I don’t care anymore. So what if I’m taking my hopped-up strung-out disease-ridden boyfriend grocery shopping? I certainly can’t leave him home alone, not in his state. And maybe I’ll just get a wheelchair or something and push him around while we shop. Either way, I’m sure this is an experience we’ll both remember.
+~+~+~+~
“Frankie, I don’t feel so good. I wanna go home.”
He’s been complaining for 30 minutes now.
“I’m so close to being finished, baby, just hold on a bit longer.”
“Frankie, really, I feel like I’m gonna barf.”
I sigh and ruffle his hair, tossing a box of crackers into the cart. He moans quietly and buries his face into my shoulder, mumbling into the heavy fabric. I wrap an arm around his waist, grabbing a bottle of laundry detergent as I do so. People around us give us condescending looks, some of them even walking the other way in disgust. Gerard doesn’t notice, in fact I think ht’s oblivious to everything around us, only taking the time to open his eyes to regain his bearings. I push the cart towards the checkout lanes, all the while balancing a 150 pound man on my left shoulder. The cashier gives us both strange looks, chewing on her lip ring nervously, and she stares me down almost the entire time she’s ringing things up. Gerard’s giggling mindlessly as a rack of celebrity magazines, tugging on my shirtsleeve.
“Why ain’t we on those, Frankie? I’m famous enough.”
I roll my eyes and hand the girl my credit card.
“Because no one likes gay people.”
“’M not gay… just have a boyfriend.”
He half collapses into me, eyes clouded in a Nyquil induced haze. I drag him upright, grabbing the heavy paper bags and plopping them down into the cart. He stumbles behind me, coughing into his hands and whining incessantly.
“Fraaankie… nnnugh…”
I turn around and see him bent double over an island of flowers, vomiting and coughing. Everyone just stops and stares, muttering to one another and not even bothering to help. God, I’m never taking him out in public again. Once he’s finished, he just kinda glares at the yellowy puddle of sick pooling beneath him. I grab his arm and pull him with me, nearly throwing him into the passenger’s seat. I drive home in silence, beating myself for ever thinking it was a good idea to get him out of bed. Once we get back to the house, I park and look at him sternly.
“Gee just... ugh, go take a bath, then go to our room and sleep.”
He nods and climbs out shakily, shuffling inside and straight to the bathroom. I put away the groceries in silence, only listening to the sounds of water filling the tub and Gerard coughing softly. God, all I manage to buy when we go out is crap. The only food we live on are frozen meals and cereal. What can I say, we're 5 star chefs. Gerard coughs loudly from the bathroom, and the sound of water splashing to the floor pulls me from the pantry.
"Gee, you okay?"
"Uhhh... yeah..."
Liar.
"Are you sure?"
Cough. Hack.
"I'm sure."
I throw the last of the groceries into the freezer and walk into bathroom, where Gerard is sitting on the bathroom floor, soaking wet and miserable. I cross my arms.
"What happened?"
He sighs quietly and looks up at me like a drowning puppy.
"I puked in the water."
I groan to myself and walk over the the off-white tub, peering down into the sudsy water. That's weird, I don't see any puke.
"Gee... what are y-"
Next thing I know, before I can even chew him out for lying to me, I'm face first in the water and I'm swimming to the surface sputtering and coughing.
"Gerard Way, you dirty sonovabitch!"
He giggles softly, his eyes alight with mischief for the first time in days. I sigh and brush my hair from my eyes, pulling off my now soaked sweatshirt. He crawls over to me, snuggling into my chest and making this weird purring noise.
"I see your feeling better."
He nods wordlessly, tracing along my tattoos.
"Anytime I get to cause you grief makes me feel better."
"And I'm more than willing to hold back from sex for the next 6 months, mister."
He pouts playfully, and nuzzles against me./]
"Can you help me back into the tub?"
[/I nod, standing up and pulling his weak frame up with me. I ease him down into the water and sit on the edge of the tub, my hand molding to his cheek. He still feels hot with fever, but not so much that it burns when I touch him. He begins coughing, and slips down into the water until the fit is over, most of his wheezing muffled and turned into violent spasms of bubbles.
"My poor baby."
He shrugs, and chokes down a cough.
"I'm getting better."
I'm about to respond, when we both hear a strange growling noise coming from the opposite end of the room. Curious, I turn around and see Sadie sprawled across the tiles of the bathroom, her sharp teeth gnawing into my favorite pair of shoes.
"Sadie, no!"
Goddammit. I hate that dog.
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