How Come?
How come no one ever visits you?
“Gerard?” He asked.
I removed my glance from the black spot on the otherwise white ceiling and looked at him. “Yeah?”
“How come no one ever visits you?”
I sigh, and smile weakly. “You visit me, Frank.”
He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Yeah, but I meant others. Your friends, your family. I know I’m not here everyday, but I’ve talked to the nurses and they told me I’m the only one who ever comes here. How come?”
I shuffle slightly in the bed, and look down at my hands. “Because they don’t know I’m here… And the ones who do, doesn’t give a fuck.”
I saw his hand move over and lay down on top of mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sorry.”
I smile weakly again, still looking down at our hands. “Its alright. You didn’t know.”
Another silence. I look back up. The black spot. Just a random black spot on a hospital-white ceiling. I wondered where it came from.
When I first came here I imagined it was blood. I imagined someone had died in here, bleeding so much that all the walls and the entire ceiling was covered in blood. And the cleaners tried to clean it all, but missed this small spot. And the blood dried up. First dark red, then brown, and now finally black. A black forgotten blood stain in the ceiling.
But then I thought more about it, and I realized it was a silly (not to mention grotesque) idea. This was the part of the hospital where the sick patients lied, for weeks, months, even years. They didn’t bring the newly injured, bleeding patients here.
Maybe someone had lied here before me, was my next idea. Someone who lied here for months, maybe even years. All alone, like me. And he was so bored that he started throwing his food at the ceiling. And some piece of food got stuck. He never mentioned it to the nurses, they never noticed.
So it stayed, and dried up, and rotted and became black. And then he died, and now its my room.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I heard his voice again. This time I keep my focus on the black spot, and just shake my head.
“Are you sure?” He asks. I hear the concern in his voice. I know that he genuinely cares about me.
When he first started coming here, I could sense that he didn’t want to be here. But then again, who would? Who actually likes sitting alone in a room with a guy they don’t even know, who is so sick they can’t leave bed, and will probably die by the end of the year?
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I glance at him, and smile as I hope he’ll let it go.
Of course he won’t.
“Who knows that you are here?”
I sigh again, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.”
“But I got an hour left to sit here with you, and I’m bored. So unless you find something else to talk about, you answer my question.”
I hear the joking tone in his voice, and laugh. “So what’s your plans for the summer, Frank?” I say, smirking. He sighs dramatically and shakes his head sadly. “Gerard, come on!”
“Why does it matter so much to you, Frankie?”
“Because you’re my friend, and I want to know stuff about you. All I know is that your name is Gerard, and that you’re sick.”
My heart skipped a beat, and my face became a huge grin. He was my friend. He was my friend. “Okay.” I said, nodding slightly.
He smiled softly, and leaned his elbow on the side of my bed, looking up at me with an expecting look.
I cleared my throat and ran my hand trough my hair, before I opened my mouth. “My parents know. The hospital called them a few weeks after I was admitted. I told them not to, but… I mean, I am 26 years old, its not they’re my guardians anymore or anything. But apparently it was something about the treatments I was getting, and they didn’t think I should be going trough it alone. Needless to say, they, my parents, hung up rather quickly. The nurse tried to talk reason with them, but they refused to listen.”
“Why?” Frank asked simply.
“They don’t like me. They never really did. And after they found out about my… sexual orientation, they have refused to talk to me. They kicked me out, but I was only 15 at the time, so the child-protective service forced them to house me. So the next three years I was ignored. I got food and clothes and shit, but they barely said a word to me. Three years, and the only words I got was ‘Gerard, food, now.’.”
I felt Franks hand squeeze mine again, and this small gesture made me all warm inside. I smiled thankfully at him, and licked my dry lips. They were always dry. Always. I’d given up on lip balm, since I had to apply more every 10 minutes, and I used almost 3 lip balms in one week. So now they were dry. Always dry.
“Anyway, they kicked me out again the day I turned 18, and I haven’t spoken to them since…”
Frank stayed silent for a while, and I didn’t speak either. I watched our hands. His thumb kept brushing over my knuckles and the back on my hand, and down to my thumb and back up again. It felt weird, but it was comforting as well. This small, almost insignificant movement, that in some way meant so much to me.
“Did you want them to come?”
I wonder, did I want them to come? I wasn’t shocked, not even the slightest, when the nurses told me that my parents wouldn’t come. I’m a 26 year old man, I didn’t need my parents…
“Kind of.” I answer truthfully. After all, they were still my parents. Even if they disowned me as their son, and ignored the fact that I was ever born, they would always be my parents.
Frank nodded at my reply with a thoughtful look on his face. I waited patiently, knowing he would speak again soon. And I was right.
“Didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” He asked, looking back at my face, and meeting my eyes.
His eyes. I wish I had his eyes. So full of life, so beautiful, so happy. So full of wisdom. Looking into his eyes, and you would think he was older than he really is. His eyes showed knowledge, and pain, and life experience. Things a 21 year old shouldn’t know.
“Yeah, I have a brother.”
“Tell me about him.” Frank asks.
I laugh. “You sound like a psychologist.”
“I am.” He jokes, giggling that sweet giggle of his. His giggle made him younger. Made him 11 instead of 21. “And now I’m going to psychologisize you.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. “That’s not even a word!!”
“Well, it is now!” Frank smile happily, clapping his hands together. “So?”
I shuffle slightly again, trying to sit more up in the bed, but only succeeding to slip down to my original position. Frank giggled, and helped me, and this time we succeeded.
“His name is Mikey.” I start. “Actually, its Michael, but he hits me if I call him that. He’s always been Mikey to me.” I smile.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Frank asks when I don’t continue.
“About a year. Before I got sick.” I reply after a small pause.
“Does he know that you’re here?” He asks, playing with the end of the blanket lying on top of my legs.
I shake my head. “No, not unless my parents told him… And if they did, he would probably be here.”
“Then why don’t you tell him? Then you wouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone, I got you.” I wink at him, making him blush slightly.
“But I’m only here three times a week. You got four other days you’re all alone, and… He’s your brother!”
“I am aware of that, Frank.” I reply. “I just don’t want him to see me like this.” I explain.
“What if you die?” He asks, and I shudder. I know the risks. I know that I most likely will die. At this point, the odds are against me. But still, it hurts to hear out loud. It breaks my heart, because…
“I don’t want to die.” I whisper softly, closing my eyes. I feel him move from his chair on my bedside, and sits down on the bed. I feel his arms wrap around my body, and his chin rest on the top of my head.
“I know.” He says quietly, hugging me tight.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I hear him shushing me and I feel his hand against my face, brushing away my tears. I try to breath, but instead I let out a strangled sob. I can’t breath. I sob. I let out a cry, and a harsh breath in that barely brings any air.
I sit up further, grabbing my chest, trying to breath. His hands run up and down my back, and I feel his breath on my ear. “Breath, Gerard. Just take a breath, Gee. Its okay, just take a breath.”
I did what he told me, and soon I could fill my aching lungs with air. He kept his arms around me the entire time.
I finally stopped sobbing and after a few shaky breaths, my breathing came back to normal. He gently laid me back against the pillows and ran his hand trough my sweaty hair.
I still had my hair. When the doctor first told me, the first thing that popped into my head was my hair. I didn’t want to loose my hair. They said it wasn’t a big deal. All cancer patients lost their hair. It grew back when they got better.
If they got better… But my hair was still there. After all the treatments, I’d only lost a few strings of hair. I barely touched it anymore, afraid that it would disappear. But it stayed. It was still there.
He ran his hand trough my hair, and looked at me worriedly. “Do you want me to get you a nurse?”
I shake my head and grab his hand. “No.” I finally choke out. “I’m fine.”
He nods and squeezes my hand. He doesn’t move. He sits next to me, holding my hand tight in his. I smile down at our hands, and twists them so I get a good view of his tattooed fingers.
“Its my birthday.” He explained, resting our hands back down on the bed.
I nod slightly, leaning my head back against the pillows.
“I’m sorry for…” Frank tries, not really knowing what to say.
“Its okay.” I reply. “I mean… I know the risks, I just… I don’t really think of it.”
He nods sadly, squeezing my hand again. “I’m really sorry, Gee. I didn’t want to bring that up.”
“Its okay, Frank.” I say, looking at him seriously. “It could happen. It most likely will. But it's too late now anyway. I can’t tell him now.”
“Why not?” He asks puzzled.
“Because… its too hard.”
“Won’t it be worse if he gets told you died? Don’t you think he wants to see you for the last time? Just imagine how bad he’ll feel when he finds out his brother was ill, and he was never there for him?”
I bite my dry lip. “I can’t just call him up and go Hey Mikes. Long time, no see. Why don’t you come visit me? I’m in the hospital, dying of cancer!”. My voice raises towards the end, and Frank flinch.
“You’re sick, that doesn’t mean you’re dying!” He says in a strained voice, and I just know he wants to scream it out.
“The treatments barely work, Frank. I’m not doing good. It won’t be okay, It's not okay, and I am not okay!” I yell, my voice cracking at the end.
He lets go off my hand, and wraps it around my shoulder. “What about the operation? They could get it out, and you could…” He tries, but I stop him.
“I don’t want it.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I start, but this time he cuts me off.
“Because of the risks! Because it’s a chance you won’t make it.” I don’t reply, because… Because he’s right. I’m so afraid to die. I am so afraid that I can’t take the only opportunity I have to actually surviving this.
“Please, Gerard, please. Why can’t you do it? Do it for your brother!” He begs, and I swear he’s close to crying himself. I had already given up on holding back my tears and they were now flowing freely down my face.
“Do it for me!” He sobs, burying his head in my shoulder.
“For you?” I whisper, looking down at the mop of hair lying on my shoulder.
“Yes, do it for me!! Why the hell do you think I come here, huh? Why have I come here three days a week for half a year??”
“Because of the community service?” I answer confused.
He first started coming here because he was forced. He had stolen a few cars with some friends of his, and he got caught. He got community service, and for some reason it was to spend time at the hospital. And he got placed in my room. His job; make sure I didn’t feel all alone in the world.
He shook his head violently. “That was the first 3 months, Gerard. It ended 3 months ago.”
“I… I don’t understand.” I utter. He looks up at me, and I look into his bloodshot eyes.
“I… There’s something about you. I don’t know… I just had to come.” He tries, grabbing my arm tight.
“You didn’t have to come, Frankie. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come here, I mean that!!” I tell him honestly as I put my other hand over his, trying to release the deathgrip he got on my arm.
“No, no, not like that, Gee.” He sighs, again running his hand trough my hair and smiling weakly at me. “I didn’t feel that I had to come here. I wanted to come here. I wanted to see you.”
I look at him, still confused. He runs his hand down my face, and rests it on my neck.
“I had to see you…”
“Frankie…” I say softly. “I don’t understand.”
He smiles again, this time more genuinely. “You’re so perfect. I don’t know how anyone could let this happen to you. You don’t deserve this.” He says sadly, but the smile never leaves his face.
I blush at his comment, and looks down. “I’m far from perfect, Frankie.”
“But you are!” He exclaims, putting his finger under my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. “You are so fucking perfect, and you don’t even know it. You’re the nicest, most honest, genuine, caring, and beautiful person I have ever met.”
I blush even worse, and I have trouble looking into his eyes. Damn, I wish I had eyes like that. They were so full of emotion, so full of… everything. While mine was lifeless. Dull. Red, and sunken into my skull.
“You're so beautiful. You don’t even know…” He whispers, smiling softly at me.
“Frankie…” I whisper, looking at him with pleading eyes.
“I think I love you.” He whispered. Now he was the one to look down. I was too shocked to say anything.
“I know, it sounds stupid, and I barely know you, but… I’ve known you for 6 months. And you’re just so… perfect. I can’t help it. I fell in love with you.”
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. I just kept opening my mouth and then closing it again, probably making me look like a fish on land.
“I know you don’t feel the same way, and its okay. I don’t mind. And this doesn’t mean I’ll stop coming! Unless you want me to, of course… Oh wow, this must be so weird for you. Look, I’m just gonna go now, and I’ll be back on Friday.” He got up from the bed, but I grabbed his arm before he could get far. He looked confused when I pulled him back down.
“Give me a minute…” I stutter, still holding tight onto his arm.
He nodded and rested back on my bed, and looked down at his hand.
“Frank, are you sure?” I ask after a short silence. He looks at me, and I know the answer before he opens his mouth. I see it in his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure.”
I nod slightly, still not letting go of his arm but letting it drop down to his hand, and I entangled our fingers. I see his eyes light up a little as a tiny light of hope is lighten.
“Gerard?” He asks silently, looking deep into my eyes trying to read me. I can only nod as I lean towards him.
I don’t even know what I’m doing. What I do know is that I’m now pressing my lips hardly against Franks. His soft lips. Soft, unlike my dry ones. Poor Frank, I think.
I feel his hand move up to my neck, and pushes my lips harder against his. I sigh happily, and feel him smile against my lips. I feel his lips part and his tongue moved out, licking my lips. I gladly part them, and slip my tongue out to meet his. After a short battle of dominance, he wins. At this point, I’d let him do anything. It felt so good. So amazing.
He loved me. He loved me. The 26 year old fag, dying of cancer. He loved me.
But what did I feel for him? I pulled away from his, only to wrap my arms around him and hide my face into his neck. His arms wrap around me, and I feel his lips press against my hair.
What did I feel for him? I didn’t love him. I felt so bad for not loving him.
I liked him. I liked him a lot. I was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be though, he’s gorgeous. I move my head from his shoulder, and looks into his eyes.
“I don’t love you.” I whisper sadly, watching his smile fall from his face. “But… I like you. A lot. And… I want you.”
“In what way?” He asks sadly. I smile at him, putting my hands on either side of his face.
“I. Want. You.” I said truthfully.
I watch him smile again, his eyes lighting up. “I want you too.” He says, putting his hands over mine.
I lean forward again, pressing a small sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m yours.”
He giggled sweetly, and I feel my heart warm up immediately. “And I’m yours.”
I laugh, noticing how incredibly cliché we are. He must have noticed too, as he too started to laugh and shook his head. He cleared his throat, and looked at me seriously. “So, want to be my boyfriend?” He said, in an overdone deep voice.
I laugh, and nod happily. “Of course!” I squeel in a girly voice, wrapping my arms tighter around him.
“Perfect.” He says, now in his normal voice. He kisses my cheek, and hugs me back.
“Excuse me, visiting hours are over.” A nurse says from the door, looking at us with an apologetic smile.
Frank nods and gets off from the bed. “I’ll see you on Friday, then?” He asks hopefully.
I grin and nod. “Can’t wait.”
He grins back at me, and places several sweet kisses on my lips. “Bye Gee.”
“Bye Frankie.” I smile, placing my fingertips over my lips as he left.
------------------------------Time Lapse----------------------------------------
“You’re having the surgery?” I hear the hope in his voice, and I see it in his eyes. I just nod as a reply.
“Why?” He asks, squeezing my hand that he held tightly in his own.
“I don’t want to die.” I answer truthfully. “Especially not now. I’d rather take the risk.”
He smiles warmly, and kisses me softly. “Thank you.”
I smile back at him, and plays with his fingers. “You’re welcome. But it’s not just for you…”
He first looks confuse, before he smiles again. “You called your brother?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’m going to.”
“When?” He asks, bouncing up and down on my bed, and I laugh at his antics.
“Soon, Frankie. I just need to figure out what to say to him.”
He smiled, kissing my cheek. “This is great, Gee. You’ll be fine. You can get out of here.”
“If it goes okay.” I point out. “You can’t expect it to go fine, Frank. it’s a real high risk that…”
He interrupts me before I get another word out. “Shut up!! You are going to be fucking fine! You’re not going to die, end of story.” He lets go of my hands, and gets up from the bed. I watch him as he paces around the room. “You are going to be fine. The surgery will be fine, and you’ll be fine, and you’ll come home with me.”
I smile slightly at the last part, but I know I can’t focus on that. “Frankie, baby, come here.”
He reluctantly moved over and sat down next to me.
“Frank,” I start, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “You can’t expect it to go alright. There’s such a high risk, which is why I didn’t really want it in the first place.”
“But-” He tried, but I cut him of by pressing my fingers against his lips.
“It didn’t matter before. I figured I would die anyway, so why should I go take the surgery that would make me die earlier than I should, right? But now… I got you.” He smiles at me, and takes my hand again. “I got you. And now I might as well try, right?”
He nods, squeezing my hand again. He won’t say it. I know he won’t say it. He’ll never admit that the surgery can go wrong. But it’s okay. He knows.
We hug. Arms wrapped around each other, faces hid in each others necks. Breathing synchronized and eyes shut tight, as we enjoyed being close to the other.
“When is the surgery?” Frank asked into my neck.
“Probably tomorrow, or the day after.” I reply. The doctor I had talked to said he’d get a surgeon and an O.R ready as soon as possible. When that was, I had no idea. It wasn’t like I had other important things to attend.
“Do you want me to be there?” He asks, running his finger up and down my spine.
“You don’t have to. You’ll just be waiting for a bunch of hours and then you get to see me, or not.”
“Do you want me to be there?” He asks again, pulling back from the hug and looks into my eyes.
I nod and blush slightly. “Yeah, I do.”
He grins, and pecks my lips quickly. “Then I’ll be here.”
-----------------------Time Lapse----------------------------
By as soon as possible the doctor really meant as soon as possible. Not three hours later I was being wheeled into the O.R.
Needless to say, I was terrified. I was forced to say good bye to Frank back in my room, since he wasn’t in my family.
Despite argues that he was the closest I had to family at the moment, they made him stay. But promising he would get to see me the minute I woke up. Not if, but when I woke up.
That was the words they used. When. Like nothing could go wrong. I had read a lot about this surgery, and the doctors told me before. Many things could go wrong. They were cutting into my body! One wrong move, and I would be gone.
“Okay Gerard, are you ready?” One of the nurses asked me cheerfully. I glared at her, and shook my head.
She kept on smiling, and stuck a needle into my hand. I flinched, and bit down on my lip so hard that I could feel the blood taste.
“Okay then. Now I am going to give you something that will make you really sleepy. So when I say so, you start counting down from 10, okay?”
I nodded, and kept biting down on my lip.
The nurse lent down and smiled at me. Her smile creeped me out. “You’ll be fine, Gerard. You’re just going to sleep, and you’ll wake up, and it will all be better.”
Damn, she sounded like some psychopath in one of my many horror movies.
“Okay, I want you to start counting now.” She said, stepping over to some machine.
“10.” I say loudly, looking around the O.R. The doctors were looking at me intensly, just waiting for me to pass out so they could cut me open.
“9.” The nurses were either checking some of the many machines, looking at the instruments to make sure they were all fit for surgery, or staring at me.
“8.” I wasn’t feeling anything yet. I blink, and look back at the creepy nurse.
“7.” Suddenly I felt it. I yawned, and my eyelids felt heavy.
“Uhh… 6” I mutter. The doctors nod approvingly at me.
“5” I say quickly, looking at the creepy nurse.
“Fo… 4.” I say as my eyes shut. I hear my voice whisper out
“3.”, and then I don’t hear anything.
1. I don't know much about cancer, which is why I never went into detail about what kind he had, or what kind of surgery he was having.
2. I don't know anything about the American court system, and I have no idea if people can serve their community service at hospital. I just said so, so it fit with my story.
3. I might continue this, but only for a really short chapter explaining what happened. I'm not really sure though, since I was quite happy with having this ending. Use your imagination. Choose the ending you want.
Now comment : D Tell me what you think.
xoxo Tonje
I removed my glance from the black spot on the otherwise white ceiling and looked at him. “Yeah?”
“How come no one ever visits you?”
I sigh, and smile weakly. “You visit me, Frank.”
He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Yeah, but I meant others. Your friends, your family. I know I’m not here everyday, but I’ve talked to the nurses and they told me I’m the only one who ever comes here. How come?”
I shuffle slightly in the bed, and look down at my hands. “Because they don’t know I’m here… And the ones who do, doesn’t give a fuck.”
I saw his hand move over and lay down on top of mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sorry.”
I smile weakly again, still looking down at our hands. “Its alright. You didn’t know.”
Another silence. I look back up. The black spot. Just a random black spot on a hospital-white ceiling. I wondered where it came from.
When I first came here I imagined it was blood. I imagined someone had died in here, bleeding so much that all the walls and the entire ceiling was covered in blood. And the cleaners tried to clean it all, but missed this small spot. And the blood dried up. First dark red, then brown, and now finally black. A black forgotten blood stain in the ceiling.
But then I thought more about it, and I realized it was a silly (not to mention grotesque) idea. This was the part of the hospital where the sick patients lied, for weeks, months, even years. They didn’t bring the newly injured, bleeding patients here.
Maybe someone had lied here before me, was my next idea. Someone who lied here for months, maybe even years. All alone, like me. And he was so bored that he started throwing his food at the ceiling. And some piece of food got stuck. He never mentioned it to the nurses, they never noticed.
So it stayed, and dried up, and rotted and became black. And then he died, and now its my room.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I heard his voice again. This time I keep my focus on the black spot, and just shake my head.
“Are you sure?” He asks. I hear the concern in his voice. I know that he genuinely cares about me.
When he first started coming here, I could sense that he didn’t want to be here. But then again, who would? Who actually likes sitting alone in a room with a guy they don’t even know, who is so sick they can’t leave bed, and will probably die by the end of the year?
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I glance at him, and smile as I hope he’ll let it go.
Of course he won’t.
“Who knows that you are here?”
I sigh again, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.”
“But I got an hour left to sit here with you, and I’m bored. So unless you find something else to talk about, you answer my question.”
I hear the joking tone in his voice, and laugh. “So what’s your plans for the summer, Frank?” I say, smirking. He sighs dramatically and shakes his head sadly. “Gerard, come on!”
“Why does it matter so much to you, Frankie?”
“Because you’re my friend, and I want to know stuff about you. All I know is that your name is Gerard, and that you’re sick.”
My heart skipped a beat, and my face became a huge grin. He was my friend. He was my friend. “Okay.” I said, nodding slightly.
He smiled softly, and leaned his elbow on the side of my bed, looking up at me with an expecting look.
I cleared my throat and ran my hand trough my hair, before I opened my mouth. “My parents know. The hospital called them a few weeks after I was admitted. I told them not to, but… I mean, I am 26 years old, its not they’re my guardians anymore or anything. But apparently it was something about the treatments I was getting, and they didn’t think I should be going trough it alone. Needless to say, they, my parents, hung up rather quickly. The nurse tried to talk reason with them, but they refused to listen.”
“Why?” Frank asked simply.
“They don’t like me. They never really did. And after they found out about my… sexual orientation, they have refused to talk to me. They kicked me out, but I was only 15 at the time, so the child-protective service forced them to house me. So the next three years I was ignored. I got food and clothes and shit, but they barely said a word to me. Three years, and the only words I got was ‘Gerard, food, now.’.”
I felt Franks hand squeeze mine again, and this small gesture made me all warm inside. I smiled thankfully at him, and licked my dry lips. They were always dry. Always. I’d given up on lip balm, since I had to apply more every 10 minutes, and I used almost 3 lip balms in one week. So now they were dry. Always dry.
“Anyway, they kicked me out again the day I turned 18, and I haven’t spoken to them since…”
Frank stayed silent for a while, and I didn’t speak either. I watched our hands. His thumb kept brushing over my knuckles and the back on my hand, and down to my thumb and back up again. It felt weird, but it was comforting as well. This small, almost insignificant movement, that in some way meant so much to me.
“Did you want them to come?”
I wonder, did I want them to come? I wasn’t shocked, not even the slightest, when the nurses told me that my parents wouldn’t come. I’m a 26 year old man, I didn’t need my parents…
“Kind of.” I answer truthfully. After all, they were still my parents. Even if they disowned me as their son, and ignored the fact that I was ever born, they would always be my parents.
Frank nodded at my reply with a thoughtful look on his face. I waited patiently, knowing he would speak again soon. And I was right.
“Didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” He asked, looking back at my face, and meeting my eyes.
His eyes. I wish I had his eyes. So full of life, so beautiful, so happy. So full of wisdom. Looking into his eyes, and you would think he was older than he really is. His eyes showed knowledge, and pain, and life experience. Things a 21 year old shouldn’t know.
“Yeah, I have a brother.”
“Tell me about him.” Frank asks.
I laugh. “You sound like a psychologist.”
“I am.” He jokes, giggling that sweet giggle of his. His giggle made him younger. Made him 11 instead of 21. “And now I’m going to psychologisize you.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. “That’s not even a word!!”
“Well, it is now!” Frank smile happily, clapping his hands together. “So?”
I shuffle slightly again, trying to sit more up in the bed, but only succeeding to slip down to my original position. Frank giggled, and helped me, and this time we succeeded.
“His name is Mikey.” I start. “Actually, its Michael, but he hits me if I call him that. He’s always been Mikey to me.” I smile.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Frank asks when I don’t continue.
“About a year. Before I got sick.” I reply after a small pause.
“Does he know that you’re here?” He asks, playing with the end of the blanket lying on top of my legs.
I shake my head. “No, not unless my parents told him… And if they did, he would probably be here.”
“Then why don’t you tell him? Then you wouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone, I got you.” I wink at him, making him blush slightly.
“But I’m only here three times a week. You got four other days you’re all alone, and… He’s your brother!”
“I am aware of that, Frank.” I reply. “I just don’t want him to see me like this.” I explain.
“What if you die?” He asks, and I shudder. I know the risks. I know that I most likely will die. At this point, the odds are against me. But still, it hurts to hear out loud. It breaks my heart, because…
“I don’t want to die.” I whisper softly, closing my eyes. I feel him move from his chair on my bedside, and sits down on the bed. I feel his arms wrap around my body, and his chin rest on the top of my head.
“I know.” He says quietly, hugging me tight.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I hear him shushing me and I feel his hand against my face, brushing away my tears. I try to breath, but instead I let out a strangled sob. I can’t breath. I sob. I let out a cry, and a harsh breath in that barely brings any air.
I sit up further, grabbing my chest, trying to breath. His hands run up and down my back, and I feel his breath on my ear. “Breath, Gerard. Just take a breath, Gee. Its okay, just take a breath.”
I did what he told me, and soon I could fill my aching lungs with air. He kept his arms around me the entire time.
I finally stopped sobbing and after a few shaky breaths, my breathing came back to normal. He gently laid me back against the pillows and ran his hand trough my sweaty hair.
I still had my hair. When the doctor first told me, the first thing that popped into my head was my hair. I didn’t want to loose my hair. They said it wasn’t a big deal. All cancer patients lost their hair. It grew back when they got better.
If they got better… But my hair was still there. After all the treatments, I’d only lost a few strings of hair. I barely touched it anymore, afraid that it would disappear. But it stayed. It was still there.
He ran his hand trough my hair, and looked at me worriedly. “Do you want me to get you a nurse?”
I shake my head and grab his hand. “No.” I finally choke out. “I’m fine.”
He nods and squeezes my hand. He doesn’t move. He sits next to me, holding my hand tight in his. I smile down at our hands, and twists them so I get a good view of his tattooed fingers.
“Its my birthday.” He explained, resting our hands back down on the bed.
I nod slightly, leaning my head back against the pillows.
“I’m sorry for…” Frank tries, not really knowing what to say.
“Its okay.” I reply. “I mean… I know the risks, I just… I don’t really think of it.”
He nods sadly, squeezing my hand again. “I’m really sorry, Gee. I didn’t want to bring that up.”
“Its okay, Frank.” I say, looking at him seriously. “It could happen. It most likely will. But it's too late now anyway. I can’t tell him now.”
“Why not?” He asks puzzled.
“Because… its too hard.”
“Won’t it be worse if he gets told you died? Don’t you think he wants to see you for the last time? Just imagine how bad he’ll feel when he finds out his brother was ill, and he was never there for him?”
I bite my dry lip. “I can’t just call him up and go Hey Mikes. Long time, no see. Why don’t you come visit me? I’m in the hospital, dying of cancer!”. My voice raises towards the end, and Frank flinch.
“You’re sick, that doesn’t mean you’re dying!” He says in a strained voice, and I just know he wants to scream it out.
“The treatments barely work, Frank. I’m not doing good. It won’t be okay, It's not okay, and I am not okay!” I yell, my voice cracking at the end.
He lets go off my hand, and wraps it around my shoulder. “What about the operation? They could get it out, and you could…” He tries, but I stop him.
“I don’t want it.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I start, but this time he cuts me off.
“Because of the risks! Because it’s a chance you won’t make it.” I don’t reply, because… Because he’s right. I’m so afraid to die. I am so afraid that I can’t take the only opportunity I have to actually surviving this.
“Please, Gerard, please. Why can’t you do it? Do it for your brother!” He begs, and I swear he’s close to crying himself. I had already given up on holding back my tears and they were now flowing freely down my face.
“Do it for me!” He sobs, burying his head in my shoulder.
“For you?” I whisper, looking down at the mop of hair lying on my shoulder.
“Yes, do it for me!! Why the hell do you think I come here, huh? Why have I come here three days a week for half a year??”
“Because of the community service?” I answer confused.
He first started coming here because he was forced. He had stolen a few cars with some friends of his, and he got caught. He got community service, and for some reason it was to spend time at the hospital. And he got placed in my room. His job; make sure I didn’t feel all alone in the world.
He shook his head violently. “That was the first 3 months, Gerard. It ended 3 months ago.”
“I… I don’t understand.” I utter. He looks up at me, and I look into his bloodshot eyes.
“I… There’s something about you. I don’t know… I just had to come.” He tries, grabbing my arm tight.
“You didn’t have to come, Frankie. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come here, I mean that!!” I tell him honestly as I put my other hand over his, trying to release the deathgrip he got on my arm.
“No, no, not like that, Gee.” He sighs, again running his hand trough my hair and smiling weakly at me. “I didn’t feel that I had to come here. I wanted to come here. I wanted to see you.”
I look at him, still confused. He runs his hand down my face, and rests it on my neck.
“I had to see you…”
“Frankie…” I say softly. “I don’t understand.”
He smiles again, this time more genuinely. “You’re so perfect. I don’t know how anyone could let this happen to you. You don’t deserve this.” He says sadly, but the smile never leaves his face.
I blush at his comment, and looks down. “I’m far from perfect, Frankie.”
“But you are!” He exclaims, putting his finger under my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. “You are so fucking perfect, and you don’t even know it. You’re the nicest, most honest, genuine, caring, and beautiful person I have ever met.”
I blush even worse, and I have trouble looking into his eyes. Damn, I wish I had eyes like that. They were so full of emotion, so full of… everything. While mine was lifeless. Dull. Red, and sunken into my skull.
“You're so beautiful. You don’t even know…” He whispers, smiling softly at me.
“Frankie…” I whisper, looking at him with pleading eyes.
“I think I love you.” He whispered. Now he was the one to look down. I was too shocked to say anything.
“I know, it sounds stupid, and I barely know you, but… I’ve known you for 6 months. And you’re just so… perfect. I can’t help it. I fell in love with you.”
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. I just kept opening my mouth and then closing it again, probably making me look like a fish on land.
“I know you don’t feel the same way, and its okay. I don’t mind. And this doesn’t mean I’ll stop coming! Unless you want me to, of course… Oh wow, this must be so weird for you. Look, I’m just gonna go now, and I’ll be back on Friday.” He got up from the bed, but I grabbed his arm before he could get far. He looked confused when I pulled him back down.
“Give me a minute…” I stutter, still holding tight onto his arm.
He nodded and rested back on my bed, and looked down at his hand.
“Frank, are you sure?” I ask after a short silence. He looks at me, and I know the answer before he opens his mouth. I see it in his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure.”
I nod slightly, still not letting go of his arm but letting it drop down to his hand, and I entangled our fingers. I see his eyes light up a little as a tiny light of hope is lighten.
“Gerard?” He asks silently, looking deep into my eyes trying to read me. I can only nod as I lean towards him.
I don’t even know what I’m doing. What I do know is that I’m now pressing my lips hardly against Franks. His soft lips. Soft, unlike my dry ones. Poor Frank, I think.
I feel his hand move up to my neck, and pushes my lips harder against his. I sigh happily, and feel him smile against my lips. I feel his lips part and his tongue moved out, licking my lips. I gladly part them, and slip my tongue out to meet his. After a short battle of dominance, he wins. At this point, I’d let him do anything. It felt so good. So amazing.
He loved me. He loved me. The 26 year old fag, dying of cancer. He loved me.
But what did I feel for him? I pulled away from his, only to wrap my arms around him and hide my face into his neck. His arms wrap around me, and I feel his lips press against my hair.
What did I feel for him? I didn’t love him. I felt so bad for not loving him.
I liked him. I liked him a lot. I was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be though, he’s gorgeous. I move my head from his shoulder, and looks into his eyes.
“I don’t love you.” I whisper sadly, watching his smile fall from his face. “But… I like you. A lot. And… I want you.”
“In what way?” He asks sadly. I smile at him, putting my hands on either side of his face.
“I. Want. You.” I said truthfully.
I watch him smile again, his eyes lighting up. “I want you too.” He says, putting his hands over mine.
I lean forward again, pressing a small sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m yours.”
He giggled sweetly, and I feel my heart warm up immediately. “And I’m yours.”
I laugh, noticing how incredibly cliché we are. He must have noticed too, as he too started to laugh and shook his head. He cleared his throat, and looked at me seriously. “So, want to be my boyfriend?” He said, in an overdone deep voice.
I laugh, and nod happily. “Of course!” I squeel in a girly voice, wrapping my arms tighter around him.
“Perfect.” He says, now in his normal voice. He kisses my cheek, and hugs me back.
“Excuse me, visiting hours are over.” A nurse says from the door, looking at us with an apologetic smile.
Frank nods and gets off from the bed. “I’ll see you on Friday, then?” He asks hopefully.
I grin and nod. “Can’t wait.”
He grins back at me, and places several sweet kisses on my lips. “Bye Gee.”
“Bye Frankie.” I smile, placing my fingertips over my lips as he left.
------------------------------Time Lapse----------------------------------------
“You’re having the surgery?” I hear the hope in his voice, and I see it in his eyes. I just nod as a reply.
“Why?” He asks, squeezing my hand that he held tightly in his own.
“I don’t want to die.” I answer truthfully. “Especially not now. I’d rather take the risk.”
He smiles warmly, and kisses me softly. “Thank you.”
I smile back at him, and plays with his fingers. “You’re welcome. But it’s not just for you…”
He first looks confuse, before he smiles again. “You called your brother?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’m going to.”
“When?” He asks, bouncing up and down on my bed, and I laugh at his antics.
“Soon, Frankie. I just need to figure out what to say to him.”
He smiled, kissing my cheek. “This is great, Gee. You’ll be fine. You can get out of here.”
“If it goes okay.” I point out. “You can’t expect it to go fine, Frank. it’s a real high risk that…”
He interrupts me before I get another word out. “Shut up!! You are going to be fucking fine! You’re not going to die, end of story.” He lets go of my hands, and gets up from the bed. I watch him as he paces around the room. “You are going to be fine. The surgery will be fine, and you’ll be fine, and you’ll come home with me.”
I smile slightly at the last part, but I know I can’t focus on that. “Frankie, baby, come here.”
He reluctantly moved over and sat down next to me.
“Frank,” I start, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “You can’t expect it to go alright. There’s such a high risk, which is why I didn’t really want it in the first place.”
“But-” He tried, but I cut him of by pressing my fingers against his lips.
“It didn’t matter before. I figured I would die anyway, so why should I go take the surgery that would make me die earlier than I should, right? But now… I got you.” He smiles at me, and takes my hand again. “I got you. And now I might as well try, right?”
He nods, squeezing my hand again. He won’t say it. I know he won’t say it. He’ll never admit that the surgery can go wrong. But it’s okay. He knows.
We hug. Arms wrapped around each other, faces hid in each others necks. Breathing synchronized and eyes shut tight, as we enjoyed being close to the other.
“When is the surgery?” Frank asked into my neck.
“Probably tomorrow, or the day after.” I reply. The doctor I had talked to said he’d get a surgeon and an O.R ready as soon as possible. When that was, I had no idea. It wasn’t like I had other important things to attend.
“Do you want me to be there?” He asks, running his finger up and down my spine.
“You don’t have to. You’ll just be waiting for a bunch of hours and then you get to see me, or not.”
“Do you want me to be there?” He asks again, pulling back from the hug and looks into my eyes.
I nod and blush slightly. “Yeah, I do.”
He grins, and pecks my lips quickly. “Then I’ll be here.”
-----------------------Time Lapse----------------------------
By as soon as possible the doctor really meant as soon as possible. Not three hours later I was being wheeled into the O.R.
Needless to say, I was terrified. I was forced to say good bye to Frank back in my room, since he wasn’t in my family.
Despite argues that he was the closest I had to family at the moment, they made him stay. But promising he would get to see me the minute I woke up. Not if, but when I woke up.
That was the words they used. When. Like nothing could go wrong. I had read a lot about this surgery, and the doctors told me before. Many things could go wrong. They were cutting into my body! One wrong move, and I would be gone.
“Okay Gerard, are you ready?” One of the nurses asked me cheerfully. I glared at her, and shook my head.
She kept on smiling, and stuck a needle into my hand. I flinched, and bit down on my lip so hard that I could feel the blood taste.
“Okay then. Now I am going to give you something that will make you really sleepy. So when I say so, you start counting down from 10, okay?”
I nodded, and kept biting down on my lip.
The nurse lent down and smiled at me. Her smile creeped me out. “You’ll be fine, Gerard. You’re just going to sleep, and you’ll wake up, and it will all be better.”
Damn, she sounded like some psychopath in one of my many horror movies.
“Okay, I want you to start counting now.” She said, stepping over to some machine.
“10.” I say loudly, looking around the O.R. The doctors were looking at me intensly, just waiting for me to pass out so they could cut me open.
“9.” The nurses were either checking some of the many machines, looking at the instruments to make sure they were all fit for surgery, or staring at me.
“8.” I wasn’t feeling anything yet. I blink, and look back at the creepy nurse.
“7.” Suddenly I felt it. I yawned, and my eyelids felt heavy.
“Uhh… 6” I mutter. The doctors nod approvingly at me.
“5” I say quickly, looking at the creepy nurse.
“Fo… 4.” I say as my eyes shut. I hear my voice whisper out
“3.”, and then I don’t hear anything.
1. I don't know much about cancer, which is why I never went into detail about what kind he had, or what kind of surgery he was having.
2. I don't know anything about the American court system, and I have no idea if people can serve their community service at hospital. I just said so, so it fit with my story.
3. I might continue this, but only for a really short chapter explaining what happened. I'm not really sure though, since I was quite happy with having this ending. Use your imagination. Choose the ending you want.
Now comment : D Tell me what you think.
xoxo Tonje