If your heart stops beating

~*Frank’s point of view*~

That was a pretty close shave, wasn’t it? Whatever I expected, that wasn’t it. I mean, there’s yelling and screaming, there are threats, there’s knocking me out, like last time, and then there’s this line. And pulling a gun on your best friend is WAY over that line. Come to think of it, where did he get it anyway? Probably nicked it. I can’t exactly see famous Gerard Way walking into a gun store and buying a pistol like that without it being all over the newspapers. Can’t that bloody machine shut up? Beep, beep, beep, beep, Shut the fuck up, I’m alive, aren’t I? And in a stable condition too, so they say.
The door clicked and I looked up to see Mikey poking his head into the room.
“Hey.”
I grinned.
“Hi.”
He walked over to the chair beside my bed and sat down.
“The doctor said you can leave in about a week.”
“A week?”
“Apparently it just missed your stomach. If it had hit even an inch lower, you would have been dead within 15 minutes.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, they said count yourself lucky you’re alive and be glad you don’t need much more surgery.”
“Much?”
“Yeah. I asked them about that, they wouldn’t tell me. Doctor-Patient confidentiality, although I don’t see why they’re not telling ME, given as I’m the one paying your bills.”
“What’s there to be confidential about? They haven’t told me any of this. And anyway, why can’t I pay my own bill?”
“If you die, they still want their money.”
I laughed.
“Course they do, the rich assholes.”
Mikey grinned awkwardly.
“Yeah...”
We talked until visiting hours ended.

A few days later, the nurse who came in to give me my lunch was a different one to the bossy matron who looked like she should be running a boarding school. I noticed her nametag said she was a student. After about 30 seconds she asked something she had obviously been itching to say.
“Why do you have HALLOWEEN on your fingers?”
I glanced down at my hands.
“Because I was born on Halloween.”
“Oh, ok. Happy Birthday then.”
“What?”
“It’s the 31st today.”
“Is it? I hadn’t realised.”
She laughed.
“Well, now you know. See ya.”
She backed out the door. I stared at my lunch with a kind of disappointment mixed with resentment. It was 1:30 on my birthday and today of all days I hadn’t had a single visitor, unless you count the kid in the room down the hall who keeps getting in trouble with the doctors for wandering around when he’s supposed to be resting. I heard his mother having a fit the other day when the doctor told her he’d ripped his stitches. He still came to see me though. He says the doctors are just worrywarts. He’s pretty cheerful, for a ten-year-old who’s just been in a car accident and had fifteen stitches.
Ten minutes later there was a knock on my door and Gerard looked in.
“Hey birthday boy!”
“You remembered!”
He laughed, and walked in, followed by Mikey, Ray and Bob. They each took a seat and Mikey placed a large bag on my bed.
“Happy birthday.”
I opened the bag and pulled out the top present, a box wrapped in pink paper. I hurriedly ripped off the paper and opened the cardboard box.
“OOH! OOH, thank you!”
Mikey took the tiara from my hands and placed it on my head.
“That’s from me.”
I hugged him and took the next box from the bag. Gerard laughed.
“That one’s from me.”
Ray nodded.
“He won’t tell us what it is.”
I unwrapped the small box and out slid a knife. Mikey rolled his eyes.
“You’re determined to kill him, aren’t you?”
I held the knife up and examined the base of the blade. Ah-hah. I thought so.