FicWad

Nice job all! Very impressive display. Sorry, it's a few hours late, but here's your reward.

My work day is seemingly the longest I've had in my entire life. I do two parties, with a half hour in between. One is for a ten year old boy, who is much to old to be amused by a clown and spends the legnth of his party with his friends, throwing things at me and calling me a faggot. As a result, I am not in a pleasant mood for my second party. It's for a five year old girl and a group of her twenty closest girl friends, most of whom are absolutely terrified of me, the others who have little interest in anything but my extraordinarily large shoes, and whether or not I will paint all their faces like kitty cats.

After the eleventh of the little demons comes up to me and begs for a kitten face, I put my huge foot down. "Nope."

The little girl stares at me with wide eyes underneath white blonde bangs that fall awkwardly over her face, looking suspiciously like she cut them herself."You have to!"

I shake my head. "Nope. I will do Spider-Man. I will do flowers. I will make you into a vicious zombie, but under no circumstances am I painting another kitten face."

Her lower lip starts to tremble. There's just a teeny smudge of chocolate frosting around the corner of her mouth. "Pwease?" She says softly.

I tap my chin a few times, considering it. "Sorry. I'm out of kitten paint."

She bursts into hysterical tears and runs off, wailing to her mother, who comes and lectures me, though she looks only about six or so years my senior.

"Who do you think you are!" She says in an uppity tone.She angrily adjusts her Prada bag on her bony shoulder. I can see her collarbone poking out uncomfortably.

I cut her off quickly, making a zip it motion with my hand. "Listen lady. I realllyyyy don't wanna hear it right now. Your kid can survive without having her face painted like a kitten just like everyone else. Teach her some individuality. Jesus." I get up and walk away, leaving her standing behind me, stunned. I grin to myself as I get into the car. It's been a long time since I've done anything like that. It's funny how such a small thing, like mouthing off after getting annoyed, can have such an astounding effect. I feel strangely...confident. My smile lingers all the way home, and I feel rather blissful, basking in this foreign strength. I even catch myself humming as I get into the elevator.

My mood builds as I think about my newly founded friendship with Frank. Alright. Maybe friendship was pushing it a little bit, jumping the gun. However, I didn't hate him anymore, and that was a pleasant step forward. I was generally happy to get a chance to spend some more time with him tonight. Besides, I knew it would mean a lot to Mikey if Frank and I could get along. I could tell the tension between the two of us had made him quite uncomfortable, and I felt rather guilty about it.

I'm whistling as I walk through the door, dropping my shit on the floor with a thunk and washing my face quickly. I tug a pair of well worn jeans over my thighs, and wonder absently who they belong to. I stretch Morrissey t-shirt over my back- this is unquestionably Mikey's, it's Spandex tight. At this point, I'm starting to wonder where Frank is, and why he hasn't said anything yet.

After messing with my hair a little bit I wander back out into the main room. "Frank!" I call loudly, and unnecessarily. The weak, soft response comes from only a few feet away.

"Gerard? H-hey."

I frown, scanning the room quickly and trying to locate Frank. After a moment, I see a splash of dark, dark brown in the corner by the window. Frank is curled up on top of the heating vent, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

"What're you doing Frank?" I ask him jokingly, crossing the room and plopping down on the floor beside him.

Frank looks over to me, his skin a ghostly white and coated with a sheen of sweat. "Trying to g-get warm." His teeth are chattering, making it difficult for him to talk without stutterring. "I'm so f-fucking c-c-c-c-c-c-c-" he shuts his eyes, focusing as he attempts to spit out the word. "C-cold!" He finally finishes. His eyes are glassy as he looks at me.

My stomach tightens into a little knot of nerves and concern.

"Frank, are you ok?" Stupid question.

He nods, but I can feel him trembling, even through all of the blankets. He blinks furiously, like he's fighting to stay awake.

I bite my lip, not really sure how to handle this. "Frank, you're POSITIVE you're fine? You're just...cold?"

"Y-yeah." He stumbles over his words. That's the breaking point for me. Though last night, Frank wasn't composed and sarcastic like he normally was, I had pushed that off to him being stoned. This was different. He was completely vulnerable. Something was extremely wrong.

"Frank, can I feel your forehead?" It sounds stupid when I say it but he nods, or at least I think he does, though it could've been just a violent tremour.

I raise my hand and lay it awkwardly on his forehead. Not only is it slick with sweat, but it is positively BOILING. I withdraw my hand quickly, jerking it back in a rapid motion.

"Frank, you're burning up." I tell him, pushing myself up off the floor as I try to recall how to handle this. If Frank had simply been a little feverish, I would've just let him be, but somehow this seems serious. I dig around our cabinets, and magically conjure up a thermometer, one of many items my mother had insisted Mikey and I take with us when we moved out, and one of the select few that we actually did end up taking. I walk back to Frank with brisk, long paces, kneeling next to him.

"Uhm, Frank, I'm gonna take your temperature okay?"

"Okay." He replies and even his voice sounds wrong. He seems only semi-coherent to me as he opens his mouth, looking like a little guppie. I insert the thermometer and he closes his mouth, and we wait for what seems like too long for it to beep. I pull it out and squint at the tiny digital numbers. 105.93
degrees.

"Motherfucker." I say, under my breath.

"What is it?" Frank asks me in a tired voice.

I'm quiet for a second. "Too high." I tell him. "Way too fucking high."

My brain goes into overdrive at this moment. I'm struggling to keep up with the speed of my thoughts, as bits and pieces from health class flood back to me from the oblivion. What're you supposed to do when a fever is this high? I shut my eyes tightly as I try to remember what hospital level temperature is. 104? 105? Whatever it is, I'm certain Frank is well above it, and from the looks of it, he has been for a while. I look at him nervously, as he sits shivering, trying to pull the blankets around him tighter as sweat makes his dark hair stick to his shimmering forehead.

I know I have to get him to a hospital, but selfishly, I try to come up with some alternative. I HATE hospitals. They terrify me. Be it the needles or too many horror movies, I simply can't stand them, and am willing to do ANYTHING to avoid them, even under dire circumstances.

I think of books, movies, stories I've heard from my mother, looking for anything that might be useful. A small image floats through my brain lazily- an ice bath. Unsure of where it came from, it seems like my most logical option at this point.

"Frank, we need to get you to a hospital." I start to say. His snaps up and he seems suddenly alert.

"NO!" He tells me passionately. "P-Please. No hospitals Gerard. I'm ok-kay."

I bite my lip again. "Okay. There's one thing we can try, but if it doesn't work, I HAVE to get you to a hospital."

Frank nods shakily again, teeth chattering subtley as I get up and open the freezer, taking out the entire ice box and staggering towards the bathroom with it in my arms. I dump all the ice into the bathtub and turn on the water, putting it to the most extreme cold I can get it. The water seems to be coming out slowly, in uneven spurts and I start to walk back to Frank while it fills. That's when he screams, a horrific scream.

"Frank?!" I yell, speeding towards him and trying to figure out what happened.

His eyes are open wide and he looks at me wildly. He speaks so softly I can't even hear.

"Frank! What is it!" My voice seems so loud in comparison to his.

"Spider." He whispers to me, only slightly louder. "There's a spider."

I blink, staring at the floor as my eyes focus in on a small spider that is crawling along the floor, right next to Frank. This miniscule creature elicited that kind of a scream?

"It's just a little spider Frank." I tell him, more worried about his fever than his apparent discomfort from the spider, and relieved his scream wasn't caused by some greater issue.

"Get it away!" He screams again. "GETITAWAYIT'SGONNABITEME!" Clearly away from his mind now, he begins to hyperventilate and looks at me with panicked eyes. He wheezes for air as I swat the spider back.

"Breathe Frank. Breathe. It's gone. It's fine."

"NO!" He shouts at me. "YOUHAVETOKILLIT!MAKEITDIEMAKEITDIEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE." His voice cracks pathetically as he begs me, and he starts to sob hysterically. I am so beyond being capable of dealing with this. I feel like I'm drowning.

I stand up, making a huge show of stomping all over the spider, looking back to him for appoval. His eyes are wide with tears and terror.

"It's dead Frank. It's dead, I promise." Tears continue to blend with the sweat as they leak from his eyes, and all the while he continues to shake.I HAVE to cool him down or he's legitimately going to melt.

I'm just standing up, starting to tell Frank that he needs to try and breathe, to calm down when the door to the room swings open and bangs against the frame. Mikey is by my side within a second, dropping whatever is in his arms and rushing over to Frank and me.

"What's going on?" He asks me in a frightened voice. "What's wrong with him?"

Silmaltaneously, I tell Mikey to help me, and we lift Frank to his feet, dragging him towards the bathroom as I explain.

"I don't know Mikey, I came home and found him like that on the floor. He kept saying he was freezing and I took his temperature and it was almost a hundred six."

"Jesus." Mikey breathes, as we cross the threshold of the bathroom, Frank still gasping crazily. "Why's he doing that?" Mikey questions quietly.

"He saw a spider and he freaked out. I don't know."

Mikey pales. "He's fucking terrified of spiders." He looks at Frank quickly, then back to me. "Gee,I think he's having a panic attack."

We both look at Frank once more, who is standing between the two of us, gasping and shivering. The tears are still visible on his chalk colored face. He looks like a terrified child.

"Mikey, we need to try and cool him down some, before we take him to the hospital. Help me get him into the bathtub."

I can tell Mikey disagrees, but he yeilds to me, grabbing Frank's shoulder gently as we lead him forward.

"We're just gonna put you in here for a little bit okay?" I tell Frank.

His eyes are wide and confused as he takes in the bathtub full of giant hunks of ice.

"No!" He moans. "No please. Pleasepleasepleasedon'tputmeintherei'msocoldit'llkillmetogointhere." His whole body tenses when he touches the icy water and Mikey and I have to restrain him from jumping out of the bathtub. He flails hopelessly, dousing both of us with the arctic water.

"Frank you have to stay!" Mikey tells him in a calming voice. "I know you're cold but you're actually burning hot and we need you to cool down." Mikey repeats this over and over in a gentle tone, and this seems to soothe Frank more than anything I've said. Still, we can only contain him for another minute before he explodes out, teeth chattering and lips turning blue. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, his clothes stuck to every inch of his still burning skin.

As Mikey and I stare at him, I little bead of scarlet forms in his nostril, and slips out from his nose as we watch in horror.

Mikey looks at me with doe eyes. "Gerard. We need to go NOW." We rush him to the car, as he trembles violently, murmuring softly how cold he is. As he climbs into the backseat with Mikey, I try to remember the last time I've ever seen Mikey this scared. That's what does it.

The gas pedal never leaves the floor on the way to the hospital.



Dundundundun. What's going on here! What's happening to poor Frankie? What do YOU all think. Greeness is appreciated. Lots of reviews equal quicker up dates. And I can see how many people read this, and I know its a lot more than the four of you that usually review. Let's see if we can get anyone out of the woodwork on this one. Rockn'Roll. Kick it. Peace.