I Can Transform You

POV: Gerard

“Should I just go?” I questioned the nurse that brought me here uncertainly, standing in the corridor outside Frank’s room, while another nurse looked after him in his unconscious state.

I was beginning to think my dad was right to forbid me to come here, and my presence really would only make him worse.

“No, dear. Frank would benefit from your company when he wakes up,” she replied in her annoying nasally voice, repeating what she had told me over the phone, telling the complete opposite of my father. “He needs you now more than ever.”

Personally, I couldn’t see how Frank was benefiting from my visit in any way, considering he worked himself up into such a state, he passed out.

“Really?” I enquired sceptically, the worry etched all over my expression. “I’m not exactly having a positive effect on him so far though, am I?”

He clearly doesn’t want me here, so I shouldn’t be here…

“Oh, I wouldn’t take his panic attack personally,” she waved a hand nonchalantly, dismissing the seriousness of the situation. “He’s been having them all the time.”

Well, gee, that makes me feel loads better…

“How come?” My eyes grew considerably wider and more anxious with this concerning piece of information.

“It’s probably just due to the lifestyle change he’s experiencing at the moment. I mean, all of this is extremely overwhelming for him,” she explained in a grave tone, gesturing around the dimly-lit corridor.

I gazed around distractedly at the dozens of closed doors on either side of me, my eyes skittering across the names written on the whiteboards stuck to each door, before focusing on the one nearest that read ‘Frank Anthony Iero’. Seeing it written down made this whole thing so much more real. The last two weeks I’d spent away from Frank, I had kind of been living in naivety about the grave extent of his condition, pretending it was something that would just go away in a couple of weeks, but now that I was here, looking at a door in this mental institute with his name on it, I could no longer hide from reality.

“It’s not easy for anyone to be taken out of their comfort zone and put in a strange new place with people they don’t know,” the nurse continued, trying to help me understand what Frank was going through, but how could I? There was a time when I could relate to Frank on so many levels, but that time had passed, along with my understanding. Fuck, I didn’t know anything about his 'disorder'. “Frank especially hasn’t taken well to being here... I told you over the phone how he never talks to anyone, including his doctor. He just constantly seems lost in his own head, fighting against some kind of trauma, and that’s the main reason for the panic attacks.”

Every word she said hit me like a ton of bricks, chipping away at me and making me weaker. I was so worried about Frank and just plain scared about how much he was deteriorating. He was supposed to be getting the help he needed in here… Damn it, they were supposed to be fixing him, not making him worse.

“Well, maybe he would benefit from coming home then,” I said slowly, thinking carefully about what would be best for him. As far as I could see, the cons of him being here were outweighing the pros. At least he wasn’t living in solitude and having panic attacks every day at home...

“I don’t think that’s really an option right now,” she disapproved of the idea, making my heart sink dramatically. I wanted nothing more than to just get home and get things back to normal, somehow. “He has expressed his deepest desire to kill himself more than once – I fear his release would have tragic consequences. And honestly, he wouldn’t be any happier or calmer at home than he is here, because there’s really nowhere he can run to escape his own memories… Now that the trauma has been unlocked from where he had buried it in his unconscious mind, it will continue to corrupt his every thought, until the day he finally opens up to someone and talks about it.”

Well, that made me want to cry. All hope was utterly lost if Frank’s sanity depended on him talking about his past, because I knew there was no way in hell he ever would. If he had ever wanted to talk about it, he would have done it long before now. The fact that he had been living with this secret for six whole years was evidence enough that he was taking it to his grave. He wouldn’t give in without a fight, and I hated that everyone else was now trying to fight him for it, because he was already battling with himself, fighting every day to take breaths to just stay in this soul-destroying world.

“I’m hoping,” the nurse continued, catching me off-guard with her sudden hope, “when he calms down enough to be rational, he’ll talk to you.”

I blinked at her. Her hope didn’t quite translate to me.

“He won’t.” I shook my head adamantly, just being realistic about the bleak situation. “He doesn’t trust me anymore; I let him down and he hates me for it.” And I hated myself for it, too.

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. It’s only natural that he feels betrayed right now, but he’ll forgive you in time,” the nurse attempted to comfort me, but it didn’t work. I knew Frank better than her; he could forever hold a grudge if someone hurt him badly enough, and I totally had.

Seeing the disbelieving look on my face, she added in a firm tone: “You just need to be patient with him. I know it’s hard, but he really needs a friend right now. He’ll be angry to begin with, but he’ll calm down eventually. Just try not to take his anger too personally… He’s on a lot of medication and one of the side effects is aggression, so he’s not in his right mind at the moment.”

Great, as if he needed anything to increase his aggressive behaviour… Was the medication even helping him at all? Because it didn’t seem like it, from what I’d seen. Then again, was there really a pill in existence that could cure a terrible case of… sadness?

“Okay.” I exhaled slowly and started biting my nails, looking at his door in apprehension. Oh man, I was so nervous. “Should I go back in now?”

“Yes, dear,” she smiled and reached out to pat my shoulder encouragingly. “Try to be strong… He needs someone to be his rock.”

Oh okay, no pressure or anything...

My heart was in my throat and I tried with difficulty to take a deep breath, as I nodded to the nurse and reached out a shaking hand to open Frank’s door.

POV: Frank

I was sitting in bed, sipping water from a glass and having various pills shoved down my throat, when the door creaked open and Gerard shuffled inside. Needless to say, I choked on one of the pills and water spluttered everywhere, making the nurse at my bedside tut loudly.

“Careful!”

I took no notice of her; my undivided attention was on Gerard as he crossed my room with his head hung low, like he was trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, and sunk down onto the armchair in the corner. He looked extremely nervous, just perched on the edge of it and sitting up all tense and straight, but he was defiantly holding my narrowed gaze. His expression was sheepish and expectant, like he knew shit was about to hit the fan all over again.

“Why are you still here?” I demanded in a state of disbelief, unable to fathom the pure nerve he had to just walk back in this room after I made my feelings about him pretty fucking clear.

It made zero sense to me that he would even think about being in the same room as me again after my hysterical hissy fit five minutes ago.

“I’m not leaving,” he announced firmly, without taking his eyes off mine.

What the fuck kind of game was he trying to play here? ‘See-how-many-breakdowns-Frank-can-have-in-one-day’? Fuck that, I didn’t need him here to judge and analyse my every move, like the fucking rest of them.

“I don’t want you here,” I declared bluntly, my jaw clenched and my eyes burning a hole right through him, until he admitted defeat in our staring competition and dropped his gaze to his lap.

“I’m not leaving,” he said again, but his voice was considerably weaker and he was fumbling awkwardly with the sleeves of his hoody.

Why the fuck not?

“I have nothing to say to you,” I stated coldly, willing myself to focus my attention elsewhere, but not being physically able to look away from him. For fuck sake, I hadn’t seen him in two weeks and my eyes just wanted to stare at him forever.

I was so torn up inside; my heart was breaking more with every beat. Half of me hated him for betraying my trust and ditching out on me when I needed him most, but the other half of me was still stupidly in love with him, and no matter how hard I tried to fight the feelings and protect myself from them, they were still there.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk to me,” he croaked, sounding disheartened but understanding. “I’m going to talk to you, though.”

So, I’m just supposed to sit here and listen to him whine for the next five hours or something? Jesus Christ, when did my life become such a joy?

I exhaled noisily and finally managed to tear my eyes away from him, and once again, I realised the nurse was gone and it was just Gerard and I in the room. How the hell did this keep happening without my noticing? Did I really get that lost in everything about Gerard that I failed to acknowledge my surroundings?

“I went back to school last week,” he began his life story, and I began to stare intently at the ceiling in silence, giving nothing away in my expression and pretending to be ignoring him entirely. I wasn’t though; my traitor mind was paying full attention.

“I walked into English class and the whole room fell silent and just stared at me. It was like something out of a fucking movie.”

I noticed him shudder at the mere memory, out of the corner of my eye, and I nearly shuddered with him. Quite frankly, the thought of it chilled me to my fucking core. It was like my biggest fear to be the centre of attention now. To walk into a room full of people and have them literally stop what they’re doing so they can completely scrutinise me would definitely give me a full-on panic attack these days.

“No one spoke to me throughout the whole lesson, but as soon as the bell rang and I stepped foot out into the hallway, everyone just immediately swarmed around me like – like the fucking paparazzi or some shit.”

I could literally hear the frustration in his voice and I was starting to wonder where he was going with this. What the hell did those interfering imbeciles do to him? My curiosity got the better of me and my head jerked in his direction without meaning to, my wondering eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second before snapping back to the ceiling.

“They were all demanding information about you, wanting to know what had happened to you and stuff.”

I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the way my lungs constricted with this highly unnerving news. Why were people still obsessing over me? If they couldn’t even get over what had happened, how the fuck was I supposed to?

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them anything,” he added tentatively, evidently noticing the way my whole body had tensed up, despite my efforts not to react at all. “Your friend James lost his shit and punched me for my ignorant attitude… It was just like old times,” he muttered, like he was talking to himself almost, but I was very much present in the conversation by this point.

“What?” I burst out at once, snapping my head back to him and staring at him in disbelief. My plan to ignore him and not say anything flew right out the window and I didn’t even realise; I was too fired up in that moment, filled with sudden rage towards James.

Gerard recoiled slightly and stared at me in surprise, clearly taken aback by my strong reaction, after not expecting to receive one at all.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “He blames me for all this shit that’s gone down... Said I changed you and it’s my fault you tried to kill yourself.”

Ughhh, idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Well, you know that’s not that case,” I responded flatly, feeling confident that Gerard understood my real motives, but that confidence was quick to drain when he didn’t look me in the eye and confirm my thoughts. He just hung his head and played with the cuffs of his hoody once more, sniffing quietly. “Gerard, that’s not the case,” I rephrased my statement, my tone declarative and non-debateable.

I didn’t want him thinking he was responsible for any of this, because he wasn’t, but the way he had suddenly gone all unresponsive enlightened me to his guilty conscience.

“Jesus Christ, you think it’s your fault I’m like this?” I demanded, sitting up straighter in bed and leaning forward to try and get him to look at me.

God damn it, I was supposed to be the one not showing any reaction and ignoring him, not the other way around. How the hell did he make us swap places?

He reluctantly raised his gaze to mine, staring up at me through his lashes.

“Well… you used to be happy, Frank.” My eyebrows shot up at this and he immediately tried to correct his sweeping statement. “I mean, you were coping with everything, at least… Then, I came along and it all became too much for you. It was like your world only started to fall apart after I became a part of it.”

My eyebrows dipped into a frown and I kind of just stared at him like he was a creature from outer space. His words were definitely alien to me. I’d never thought of him as some kind of earthquake that had struck the ground I was standing on, but I guess, in a sense, he had.

However, the ground wasn’t exactly in perfect condition in the first place; it was incredibly shaky, with one massive crack down the middle, which I was standing over with one foot on either side. So maybe when Gerard snuck his way into my heart, gaining the first outside insight into my split world, it sent tremors through the shaky foundations, but he couldn’t be blamed entirely for it collapsing and causing me to fall between the gap into this black abyss, when it was already broken long before he came along.

“That doesn’t make it your fault,” I defended him, just because he couldn’t defend himself, for some reason. “Put it this way – my world would have fallen apart whether you were a part of it or not. It was only a matter of time.”

I mean, fuck, everything was a lie. I was out of my mind the whole fucking time - I just hid it well because I didn’t know any other way. But then, Gerard taught me what it was to be real and I kind of just forgot how to keep faking everything… And I lost my balance in life.

Literally, my life had been a time bomb destined to explode on me since the start of my messed up childhood. And now that it had, I didn’t even know where to begin trying to repair the damage and escape from the wreckage.

Gerard was staring fixated at me, his pitying eyes swimming with tears, and I just couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. I put my face in my hands and just took a second to breathe and not get too overwhelmed by the devastation inside of me. This grief was something that constantly weighed my heart down every second of every day, and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I always ended up in floods of tears.

“This nervous breakdown was inevitable,” I mumbled, my voice kind of muffled by my hands, “And I have no one to blame but myself.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let the tears leak into the palms of my hands, hidden from Gerard’s view. I didn’t want him to see me cry again. It wasn’t exactly fun for either of us; I just felt weak and pathetic, and Gerard probably felt helpless and awkward. Because let’s face it, he couldn’t help me. Not anymore.

For a moment, he said nothing and we just sat in painful silence, with only the occasional sniff from me to be heard. I was actually relieved by his lack of response, because there was really nothing he could say to console me, so what was the point in trying? Plus, I thought I’d had a lucky escape from the dreaded subject being brought up.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

“What about your father? Doesn’t he deserve any of the blame?” His voice was fearful and cautious, like he knew he shouldn’t be asking it, but he just couldn’t help himself. Like the fucking rest of them.

I immediately raised my head and just stared at him through watery eyes, too distracted by the increasingly sharp pain in my chest to remember my pride and keep hiding the depth of my emotion. I looked a mess, my eyes red and swollen and my complexion pale and blotchy, but fuck it - he needed to see me like this to understand what the stupid fucking truth was doing to me.

“Don’t ever talk to me about my father,” I dismissed the subject at once, visibly tensing all over.

The time had well and truly passed where I could have a ‘heart-to-heart’ with Gerard. I used to pretend we came from the same kind of background, and we were just as fucked up as eachother… But I couldn’t lie to myself about any of it anymore. The fact that I was the one living in this goddamn mental home proved that I was far more messed up than he would ever be, and there was just no way he could relate to what I had been through now.

“Frankie, if you don’t talk about what happened, you’re never gonna get over it,” he persisted, his face contorted into a permanent concerned expression that I wanted to slap off.

God, I wished everyone could just understand that talking about it wouldn’t solve a fucking thing; it would just make it more real to me, and then I’d never be able to go back to pretending.

“Shut up, you don’t understand!” I choked dramatically, shaking all over from the overwhelming pain inside me.

My emotions were rapidly taking over, to the point that I could no longer able to see through the endless tears or breathe through my constricting airways. I sniffed and spluttered and tried not to choke on the lump in my throat, but I couldn’t catch my breath. I knew the hyperventilation was about to kick in any second now, and I just accepted my fate of another panic attack and doubled over with my head in my hands once more.

But then, all of a sudden, I felt myself being embraced by a familiar pair of arms, wrapping around my trembling body and pulling me close.

“Shhh, breathe, it’s okay,” he whispered in my ear, with one hand stroking through my hair soothingly, “You’re okay.” Am I? AM I?

Despite the voices in my head screaming at him in protest, I found myself melting into the hug and crying on his shoulder, clutching him so tight I could actually feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, erratically in sync with mine. And despite my narrowed airways, I was somehow managing to inhale his familiar scent of coffee and aftershave, mixed with the oh-so-masculine odour of strawberry shampoo, and oh – I could actually breathe properly again.

The seconds blurred into minutes, and miraculously I was still conscious and a whole lot calmer. For the first time ever, I had managed to avoid an impending panic attack, and it was all thanks to the boy in my arms, hugging me like both of our lives depended on it.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, resting his head on top of mine. “We don’t need to talk about the past.”

I sniffed quietly and accidentally nuzzled further into the crook of his neck.

“I can’t, Gee.”

He sighed and rubbed my back supportively.

“I know.”

Everything was quiet between us again, both of us just savouring the feeling of being back in eachother’s arms after two weeks apart. Deep down I was still mad at him, but in that moment I could barely remember why; the grudge I was holding was starting to slip from my grasp.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you before,” I found myself apologising, rubbing my eyes and leaning back from the hug to look at him properly. I really was genuinely sorry for the nasty things I’d said; I didn’t even mean them.

We sat cross-legged on my bed, facing eachother, and he gave me a small, forgiving smile.

“It’s okay.”

Gazing at him in front of me now, in all his innocence and beauty, I didn’t understand how I ever doubted his love for me. Over the last two weeks I became so paranoid that he didn’t care about me anymore, but those adoring eyes in front of me now told me otherwise.

“Are you gonna come and visit me tomorrow?” I enquired shyly, searching for reassurance that he really did care and I wasn’t just naively believing what I wanted to. (It wouldn’t be the first time, let’s face it.)

“You bet,” he nodded enthusiastically, making my eyes light up. “And every day after that, until I can bring you home with me.”

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I was smiling. A small but genuine smile. It felt weird on my face, like it didn’t belong there, and within seconds it was gone, but the butterflies in my stomach remained.

“Bring films,” I instructed bossily, “And popcorn. I miss that shit.”

I’d literally been spending my days doing a whole lot of nothing, so the prospect of having Gerard come and visit every day was new and exciting. Now I would have a reason to get up in the mornings, and who knows, maybe this shit might actually become somewhat bearable.

He chuckled softly and nodded again, "You got it."

Then, he held his hand out to me and I smiled bashfully as I intimately thread my fingers through his. Inside my chest, my heart was doing some kind of cartwheel, happy to have one of its missing pieces back in its rightful place.