FicWad

Woosh. It's been a couple days. Sorreh for delay, but hey, now I'm just writing at a normal pace instead of the pyscho-obsessive-maniac pace that I was pulling before. Took a little while to get back into the groove but here it is xD

Tires squealing, I pull up in front of the emergency entrance at the hospital, looking over my shoulder at Frank and Mikey for the thousandth time. Mikey is staring at Frank with awkward nervous eyes, but Frank is too busy shivering and trying to breathe to notice. His hair looks glossy and black as it clings to his ivory skin, little drops of water sliding down his face and mixing with the sweat and tears. He's still trembling.

I get out of the car, moving as quickly as I can, opening Frank's door and helping him out. His eyelids are fluttering like a butterfly's wings as he stumbles forward, and Mikey and I are supporting most of his weight. I send a half ass prayer to whoever may be listening that there is not a long wait, but as usual, my non-existent god shows no signs of caring. I take in the large crowd of people with a sinking heart. My eyes flit around, seeking out anywhere with room to sit down, but every chair is occupied. With a frustrated sigh, Mikey and I drag Frank to the wall, where we slide down gently to the floor.

I hear Mikey murmuring to Frank that everything's gonna be fine, that someone will see him soon and everything will be better. Frank is barely conscious, nodding as his eyelids slide shut.

"Hey Frankie, don't do that. Stay with us," Mikey coaxes him. He slaps his cheek gently, and Frank jerks back into some minute level of consciousness. He clearly didn't understand what was happening prior to this point, because he takes in his new surroundings with a horrified expression.

"NO. I SAID NO HOSPITALS." He growls through his teeth, but it comes off as more like he's begging instead of sounding menacing. His pupils are huge, and he looks somewhat like a cornered animal. Frank starts to hyperventilate again, chest heaving violently as he goes into panic mode.

"Frankie, calm down, please! We had to Frankie, you're so sick." Mikey says soothingly, in a shaking voice.He drapes his skinny arm over his shoulders, clutching Frank like he can protect him from the sickness that is ravaging his body.

That's what sends me over the edge. I'm watching everything from a distance, selfish bastard that I am. I simply sit and stare as my brother clings to his friend for dear life, looking helpless and small, though not quite as helpless and small as Frank does. It's not that I don't care. I'm just so fucking pathetic and soulless and so weak that I can't even handle sitting here. Not after last time.The walls are white and the floor is icy and there's so much noise and everything is so bleak and I feel like my brain is collapsing on itself.

I don't even notice that I'm biting my lip until a droplet of blood oozes out and drips down my chin. I wipe it off and stare at it, my hand shaking uncontrollably. I shut my eyes tightly, trying desperately to get it together. This is ridiculous. Something is so very wrong with Frank and I can't do anything but have a private breakdown in this very public place. This is unacceptable, I tell myself.

"Gee, are you holding up ok?" Mikey asks me tentatively, yanking me out of my reverie. Frank's head is on his shoulder, and his breathing seems to be a little bit more regular. Now Mikey is watching me with hesistant, concerned eyes.

I open my mouth to reply and somehow can't think of an answer, my mind shutting off like a lightbulb.

"Gee, I can tell you're scared. I know you hate it here. You can leave if you want." Bless my brother's heart. Offering to let me leave after all this.

"No, no, Mikes. I'm fine." My voice cracks awkwardly, shooting up at the end like it does when I try to lie. I feel a warmth on my cheeks, and I pray Mikey won't notice, but of course he does.

He sighs softly. "Gee, I won't hold it against you or anything. You know that." There's a pregnant pause and I focus my eyes on the toes of my extremely scuffed shoes. My lip is still bleeding.

"Gerard." Mikey's voice is quiet, soothing and somehow also commanding.

I look up at him reluctantly to see him gazing at me with pure, soft eyes. "Go take care of yourself Gee. Get outta here. We'll be fine."

I feel like a small child who wants to help but is simply overwhelmed. I drop my head to my chest, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets until I see fireworks behind them.

"I'm just gonna go smoke, alright? I'll be back in a few minutes." I can't even bring myself to look at my brother as I stand up and walk out the door, searching my pockets for my cigarettes.

I follow the sidewalk to a remote corner, where I sink down onto the concrete, feeling weak at the knees. I take deep, slow, breaths and try to keep my thoughts on a tighter rein, but as usual, I have no control, not even over myself. My memories gnaw their way out of the cage that I was keeping them locked up in, engulfing me completely.

"It's gonna be fine Gee, you're gonna be okay." My brother says in a panicked voice, clutching my hand so tightly that I can't even feel my fingers.
I'm hanging on to the garbage can subconsciously, drifting in and out as the forty of vodka and the bottle of pills take their own sweet time evacuating my system, choking me relentlessly at random intervals. I gasp for air as the muscles in my stomach contract, making me grit my teeth in agony, the pain blotting out everything, yet also it is the only thing that is keeping me conscious.

"Hang on Gerard. We're almost there." I don't know how my brother is driving while hanging on to me so tightly. The motion of the car is not helping, and I jerk back and forth as he runs a stoplight and flies around the corner. I'm suddenly aware that I'm sweating like a maniac, my shirt stuck to me like I just got out of a pool.
I feel the car stop and I lean forward, retching as my stomach turns inside out. The alcohol tastes even worse coming up than it did going down.

My brother's hands are busy, rubbing my shoulders and trying fruitlessly to hold back my long hair, which is greasy and disgusting. He's saying things to me in a gentle voice, but I don't comprehend any of it. I know I'm going to die, right here in the car as I puke my guts up. Right here with my kid brother beside me, trying so hard to save me, like he's been doing for far too long.

I can't breathe. My insides pour out of my mouth and I can't get one single fucking breath. What a pathetic way to go, I think dazedly, bitterly. This so like me. So fitting. I didn't even MEAN to do this. I just drank and kept on drinking and took a few too many pills. I didn't mean to die.

The moment the waterfall stops I inhale, gasping and taking in air like a starving man would eat. I hear a car door slam, seemingly in the distance, and then I feel a slender yet wiry pair of arms pulling underneath my armpits and dragging me out of the car. I'm still holding on to the garbage can for dear life, though it reeks and makes me gag again. My legs tangle up with each other, and I feel like the whole planet is rocking up and down as the pavement disappears behind me. There's a rush of warm air and a woosh of doors and then I'm tumbling into a chair. My eyes are streaming as I'm wracked with violent heaves, my only thought is that it has to be ending sometime soon.

"Help me please!" Mikey's voice is so far away. "My brother took an entire bottle of Xanax and drank a forty of vodka. Please."

There's a flurry of movement and I feel myself lifted onto a gurney, laid flat, then propped up, my head still hanging over the trashcan. There's so many voices, asking my brother too many questions and I can't think anything butohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodidon'twannadiei'msofuckingscaredandidon'twannadieand
mikeyohmikeyi'msosorrysososorryyoudeservebetterandi'msorrybutijusthavetodie
becauseijustcan'tmotherfuckingtakeonemoresecondofthishellpleaseohpleaseletthis
allgoawaynownownownownowfuckingnow.

I pass out then, and the next thing I can feel is a tube being jabbed down my throat, choking me again and I feel a heartbreaking disappointment when I realize, as every ounce of anything in my stomach comes pouring out my mouth that I must not be dead, unless this is hell.

I can hear other people, including my brother sobbing. Maybe it is hell. Listening to my brother cry, choking and heaving and retching in front of all these people who must only be thinking, this poor boy is watching his stupid fuck brother die right in front of him, that's pretty hellish. I just can't stop throwing up and when I do I collapse onto the gurney and maybe I'm dying for real this time because they're poking me with a needle and it all goes black and the last thought I have is that I'm so sorry Mikey

I jerk myself back into reality forcefully, gasping as I realize that I must not have been breathing that whole time, as I relive the worst moment of my entire life. I'm trembling as I search frantically for my cigarettes, locating them and pulling one out with a hand that is practically vibrating. With shaking hands I flick the lighter, and it flies out of my hands only to fly onto the concrete a few feet away. I reach forward to pick it up, but I am beaten to it by a pale slender hand that offers it to me.

My eyes follow the hand up the arm, the slim shoulders, the elongated neck holding up the proud, dark head, with long hair spilling down from the crown. They go to the face and lock on those transfixing hazel eyes almost immediately.

"Here." Mallory says, offering me the lighter, which I take, feeling dazed.

"You're here?" I ask in a voice that trembles almost as much as I do. I'm so stunned and I'm really not even sure this is happening.

She nods solemnly before dropping down onto the concrete beside me. I have no idea what to say.

"You look like absolute shit." No sugar coating from her. But I didn't expect any. "Interesting change of hair. Any particular reason?"

"Just felt like a change." I mutter around the cigarette, cupping the lighter with my hand.

"Uhuh." She replies softly. "Why are you here?"

"My brother's friend. Something's wrong with him."

"The friend you hate?"

There's a silence as I take a much needed drag, reveling in the soothing smoke that is filling my lungs, calming me and also killing me.

"He's not so bad." I finally answer. There's another quiet moment as she nods sagely, like she knew I was going to say that. Which she probably did.

"Why are YOU here?" I question her, in an unintentionally venemous voice. She looks at me with wide, honest eyes, but doesn't say anything. I'm at a breaking point.

"For all the fucking questions you ask, you can't be bothered to answer a goddamn one." The words whip through the air, and the hurt on her face is apparent.

She still doesn't speak, instead holds up an arm and pulls back her jacket sleeve gingerly, wincing as she shows me a heavily bandaged arm. I can see the stains seeping through the gauze.

I feel like an even bigger asshole. I didn't know that was possible.

"Sorry." I say softly.

"Don't worry about it."

I hold out my cigarette, taking another drag and then offering it to her hesistantly, because if I can occupy her mouth I might have time to think of something to say. She takes it with her unbandadged hand, lifting it cautiously, like she's suspicious I might have laced it with something.

My mind is blank and I can't shake the feeling that I am the biggest douchebag ever to walk the earth.

"I'm sorry." She speaks at last in a small voice, somewhat lacking in her normal confidence. "What I did yesterday was wrong. I was brutal."

I twist my hair around my finger as I listen to her. "It's fine. Everything you said I needed to hear."

She scoffs, eyebrows meeting over her shimmering eyes. "I don't even KNOW you."

I'm suddenly struck by the astounding realization that though she doesn't know me, I must know this girl. I must know her better. I have to figure out how she does what she does.

My mouth opens without me consciously giving it permission to.

"Get some coffee with me."

She raises hesistant eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"I said, will you please get some coffee with me?"

She blinks, confused. "Uhm...when?"

I start to say now, and then I recall why I am at the hospital, and I feel like an asshole again. Getting so lost in my own problems, my own world and forgetting about everyone else. Like Frank. Like my brother.

"Sometime. I've gotta go. But here." I dig through my pockets for the pen that I know is there, that I always keep on hand if I need to sketch something. I feel another lighter, the cigarettes, some loose change and my shit phone before I finally find one, whipping it out and clicking it quickly. I grab her hand and avoid burning myself on the cigarette as I scrawl my phone number onto the peach toned skin.

"Callmeplease." I tell her, standing up and glancing back at her as I walk toward the entrance. She looks completely befuddled as she brings the cigarette to her mouth again, and I leave her alone at the base of the building, just as drops of rain begin to fall from the rapidly darkening sky.

I stand for a moment in front of the hospital, taking a deep breath as I step through the automatic doors. There are so many emotions coursing through me that I can barely hold them all in check, wanting to collapse and laugh and smile and cry and punch something at the same time. I swallow as I walk back towards my brother on wobbling legs, though I am slightly steadier than I was before.

"Hey," I say softly as I take my place besides my brother, my eyes flicking quickly to Frank who is visibly trembling and looks more like corpse than a person.

Mikey looks at me in shock, like he didn't expect me to actually come back. It hurts, but I can't blame him.

"Hey," is his soft reply. It's short but I can hear the gratitude in it. I know he needs me right now. I place my hand on his free shoulder, rubbing it gently. He stares at Frank uncertainly, eyes moving back and forth between the front desk, then back to Frank, over and over and over again.

This is the worst part. The waiting. I know it's hell for him. So I just squeeze his shoulder because there's nothing we can do now but wait and hope desperately that Frank is strong enough to get through this.


CLIFFHANGAHHHHH. DUNDUNDUN. Are you enjoying the roller coaster? Is gee a pathetic bastard like he thinks? Why was Mallory hurt? What's going to happen with their little coffee date? What did you think of the flashback? And of course the million dollar question- WHAT THE FUCK I IS GONNA HAPPEN TO FRANK? The faster you rate and review, the faster you can all find out XD Let's go for eight this chapter shall we? Thank you all. xoxox