Promise.
Commotion?
He was frozen into place.
On the floor in front of him lay Gerard in the same position as earlier, when he’d said he loved Frank.
But he was surrounded by paramedics who were shouting for their medical shit and calling Gerard’s name.
That would explain the commotion.
And the blood was still there.
A lot of blood. More than before.
Frank felt slightly faint as the sight made his stomach churn and bile rise up in his throat.
He was never very tolerant to blood.
Motherfuck.
Behind the paramedics, about a metre away, stood the rest of the band and crew in silence, looking respectful, reverent.
It was like a fucking funeral party; they looked over to Gerard as he lay spread – eagled and unconscious. Heavy silence coupled with loud giggles and shouts from outside. The other bands must be having a party.
The whole scene reminded him of their song, “Kill All Your Friends” and he almost laughed aloud at the irony.
It took a moment more for it all to sink in and his eyes widened. This was his fault. It was him who was being a dick, which caused Gerard to pass out, which obviously caused a cracked skull or something.
His fault.
He tiptoed over to where everyone was standing and sidled over to Ray.
“I…Didn’t you say he’d be okay? What’s happening, Ray? I…He…You said…Ray, what’s happened to him?!’ he whispered urgently.
Ray turned and looked at Frank with sad eyes.
“What, Ray?” I hissed, ever more urgently as Kate from the crew burst into tears, others hurrying to comfort her.
“Dude, I thought you knew,” whispered Mikey. So that was what the sympathy was for.
“Ray?”
“Man…he’s…he…The paramedics say he has a blood clot…I tried to help, I thought it was just a cut, but I just made it worse and…and…” the man’s eyes filled with tears.
“He might die."
On the floor in front of him lay Gerard in the same position as earlier, when he’d said he loved Frank.
But he was surrounded by paramedics who were shouting for their medical shit and calling Gerard’s name.
That would explain the commotion.
And the blood was still there.
A lot of blood. More than before.
Frank felt slightly faint as the sight made his stomach churn and bile rise up in his throat.
He was never very tolerant to blood.
Motherfuck.
Behind the paramedics, about a metre away, stood the rest of the band and crew in silence, looking respectful, reverent.
It was like a fucking funeral party; they looked over to Gerard as he lay spread – eagled and unconscious. Heavy silence coupled with loud giggles and shouts from outside. The other bands must be having a party.
The whole scene reminded him of their song, “Kill All Your Friends” and he almost laughed aloud at the irony.
It took a moment more for it all to sink in and his eyes widened. This was his fault. It was him who was being a dick, which caused Gerard to pass out, which obviously caused a cracked skull or something.
His fault.
He tiptoed over to where everyone was standing and sidled over to Ray.
“I…Didn’t you say he’d be okay? What’s happening, Ray? I…He…You said…Ray, what’s happened to him?!’ he whispered urgently.
Ray turned and looked at Frank with sad eyes.
“What, Ray?” I hissed, ever more urgently as Kate from the crew burst into tears, others hurrying to comfort her.
“Dude, I thought you knew,” whispered Mikey. So that was what the sympathy was for.
“Ray?”
“Man…he’s…he…The paramedics say he has a blood clot…I tried to help, I thought it was just a cut, but I just made it worse and…and…” the man’s eyes filled with tears.
“He might die."