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Frank started to shift around, occasionally hissing softly. Something was troubling him.

"Is something wrong?" Gerard asked softly. Frank shot him a glare. A venomous glare.

"My leg is what's wrong. It fucking hurts like hell itself," Frank muttered and sunk his head back into the pillow and hissed through clenched teeth. The man was clearly in pain.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Gerard asked and furrowed his thick eyebrows. He was hoping to get an answer like 'you should kiss the pain away'. Sadly for him, that wasn't the case.

"Cut my leg off and spare me the pain," Frank whimpered. Sweat ran down his hot forehead.
Gerard didn't know if the pain in Frank's leg was permanent or if it just came in waves like before. One thing which he knew for sure was that there was no way in hell that he could amputate a leg.
He didn't possess the medical skills necessary to do anything like that. Hell, Gerard didn't even know how to clean a simple wound.

Frank would bleed to death if he even tried, for sure.

Gerard answered Frank in the only way he could. "I can't. Sorry."

Frank groaned, squeezed his eyes shut and hyperventilated as another wave of extreme discomfort and pain rolled over his body. It was close to unbearable.

Soon the pain seemed to get duller and Frank could collect himself from the sweating mess he had become.

"God..." Frank whispered and thoughtfully ran his hand over his face to wipe off some salty sweat. Could Frank possibly call Gerard God some day?

It was hard for Gerard to understand how quick his mind could turn from basically asexual to a sex craving machine in hours. He guessed that a small seed of sexual frustration had turned to a tree and made him crazy. Blinded by lust and a lifetime of moderation, all he wanted was that body on the mattress to squirm and surrender underneath him.

That Frank was a male didn't bother him the slightest. What did gender matter when the world was going under?

"Frank?" Gerard asked, his lips dry and his voice hoarse. The man with blond and black hair sighed.

"I'm hungry," he whined. The shelves in the apartment was empty. There was nothing to eat.

"I don't have anything to give you," Gerard explained hopelessly. Frank was starting to become moody again.

"Fucking buy something then!" he snarled, "You idiot..."

Gerard was a bit offended but at the same time turned on by how feisty Frank was. He couldn't tear his eyes off of the small wrinkles that appeared around Frank's nose as the tattooed man got angry.

"With imaginary money? I spent everything I had on buying medical supplies for you. Remember?" Gerard asked and crossed his arms over his bony chest. Frank growled as he was very upset and not liking the situation.

"I need food, now! Can't you go and get money from the bank or something?" Frank pleaded with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

It had been over a week since Gerard had taken out money from the bank, so it should be fine to get some more today. That was the system of New York's bank.
Wait a week, get your name checked on a list and get your money. Easy peasy.

"Fuck. Fine! But you owe me so much for doing this," Gerard muttered and walked towards the front door where he put his shoes and his long coat on.
He then had to walk outside to the place where misery was the winning word.