FicWad

Gerard:

I sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of hot coffee. There was nothing else to do. Nothing to say. Frank looked like he still held hope I knew that just an act. I, although I didn‘t want to, had almost given up all hope. His coughing fits were as bad as ever. I felt like I was losing my family. All over again.

I felt sick at the thought. I wanted to talk to someone about all this, but if I spoke to Frankie he'd burst out crying and I didn't feel close enough to his dad yet to speak to him about it.

I took a sip of my coffee. God, did I want a smoke! The thought of the sweet, sweet nicotine running through my vains was so strong and wonderful I shook slightly. Looks like cigs are my turn on…

I finished my coffee and placed the cup in the sink, before going to the hall. I took my leather jacket of the hook and began to rummage around in the pockets. I found my love. I put my coat back on the hook, and headed for the back garden. I lit the fag before stepping out side.

As I stepping out side, I looked about.

Then I saw him. Frankie.

"FRANK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?", I cried.

I felt my eyes fill with tears as I saw the dreaded sight. Frank stood, leant against the wall, smoking and bleeding.

It wasn't a huge cut, just on the back of his hand, but it was big and deep enough for a lot of blood. Too much blood.

After such a long time of cutting my self, I was fully aware of how to tell a accidental cut from one done on purpose. I knew this one from the second I saw it...

"STOP IT FRANK!", I yelled.

I ran over to him and ripped the cancer-bringing stick out his mouth.

"WHAT GERARD? DON'T YOU SEE? THE OPERATION‘S NOT WORKED! THE CANCERS STILL HERE!", he yelled back.

"Frank... you don't know that..."

"Yes I do. We all do! I can‘t be saved! I'm dying!", he yelled before pushing past me and going back into the house.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Me and Frank sat at other sides of the sofa. Both curled up in our corners. Frank's dad had left for work early that morning, so we were the only people in the house.

I couldn't look at him. How could he?

How could he cut? ... and hurt him self.
How could he smoke? ... and make things worse.

"How could you?", I mumbled. It was hard to speak, I was hurt so much.

"I don't know... F-for a second, Gee, I was just mad. Mad and sad. Sad and lost...", he said, no emotion in his voice, his eyes big and staring past me.

"So you've given up?" I asked him

"What?" Given up on what? Cigarettes?"

"On all this! On getting better...", I drifted off, getting quieter and quieter as I spoke.

"I don't know!", He sighed. "No. I just lost it for a minute" He said firmly, "Gerard... I might as well be dead, the survival rates just 15%…"

I stared at him. Why is he loosing hope!?

"Frank, no! No! Shut up! I ruined my life for you and you’re just giving up! I'm suppose to be your boyfriend! We‘re supposed to be together in this!" I yelled, before making a dash up to the door.

I ran to the front door and sat on the front step. I didn't sob, I didn't scream, I didn't move, I didn't think. I sat there, still, as if I was dead...