‹ Prequel: The Pros and Cons of Loving
The Pros and Cons of Growing Up
Part Twenty-Four
Gerard’s POV
“Gee, I don’t feel good.”
I looked up from where I was drawing to see Frank leaning against the kitchen wall, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He had been in bed all day—though by the circles under his eyes, he hadn’t gotten any sleep since I last checked on him—making his dark hair stand up in odd angles.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, rushing over to him.
“My… my head hurts and I can’t… I don’t know. It hurts bad, Gee.” He said, looking up at me with big green eyes. “I need to lay down.”
“Okay, I’ll carry you to the couch.” I said worriedly, lifting him. His arms went around my neck and he nuzzled me, sighing. “Are you okay?” I whispered, patting down his sweaty hair.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He muttered in a distant voice, his arms tightening around my neck as I began to walk. “I-I’ve been feeling bad… stressed… but I’m not stressed right now.”
I rubbed his back gently after laying him on the couch. He rolled over onto his back and focused on me. “I think I need to go to the doctor…” he moaned out.
That scared me shitless. Frank was never one to saying he needed to go to the doctor, he avoided it at all costs. Usually I had to take him, kicking and screaming. He never told me he needed to go, that he would willingly go… that wasn’t Frankie, yet again he hadn’t been acting normal for days since his migraines started.
“Alright. Let’s go.” I said, nodding, while I lifted him up. I left a note telling Aiden and Eric where we were and to not worry, then got Frankie out to the car.
I sat him in the passenger seat and fastened his belt, trying to remind myself that he was alright. He was going to be alright, especially because we were on our way to the doctors. They would give him medicine and it would be fine…
But what if it was something to do with his coma? What if he wasn’t okay?
It took us about fifteen minutes to get to the nearest hospital and Frank sat in the chair next to me in the waiting room, half conscious, while I hurriedly filled out his papers. He was reading lazily over my shoulder—as much as he could in his half conscious state—and by time I was done filling the papers out I was so scared that I practically ran them up to the front desk and demanded a doctor came out to see us.
A younger man in a white coat came out, and his name tag read ‘Dr. Mittchell; Emergency Room Staff.’ “What has been wrong with him?” The doctor, Dr. Mictchell, asked as I lifted Frank up from his seat.
“Well when he was 17 he suffered a year long coma.” I began, letting Frank lean on me. “Lately whenever he’s stressed, he would get migraines and take Tylenol and they’d go away.”
“Somewhat.” Frank muttered into my shoulder.
“And he’s just been getting worse, the headaches have been harder to get rid of, and it’s affecting his… I dunno, it’s affecting everything.”
The doctor helped me place Frank in a bed and he began checking Frank’s breathing. The doctor began asking Frank questions and I saw Frank’s lips moving but he was talking too low for me to hear. The doctor was nodding, however, and now looking deep into Frank’s eyes with a small flashlight.
“Any dizziness?” he asked Frank, feeling his throat.
Frank gave a slight nod. “Now I’m real dizzy.”
“Nausea?”
Frank gave another nod. “Yeah… I can’t really eat much. I haven’t in two days.”
“Okay.” The doctor nodded. “I think you’re going to be fine. I’m sure its simply stress and lack of eating. Your vital organs seem to be working properly.” The doctor said after ten minutes of looking at Frankie.
“W-what? He’s not fine.” I sputtered. “You can’t just say he’s fine after seeing him for ten minutes. You didn’t see him at the house!”
“Mr. Way, he is fine. He’s a bit malnourished, but otherwise he’s fine.” Dr. Mittchell reassured me.
“W… You can’t really tell me he’s acting like this from stress?” I scoffed, looking at my poor Frankie.
“What he needs is rest. I want him in bed for the next few days, resting. Okay?”
I nodded. “Can he at least have medicine for the headaches?”
“Please?” Frank added in a miserable whimper.
“Some, yes. Now you’re ready to sign out. Any more problems, don’t hesitate to call.” The man smiled and left.
Frank looked ready to burst into tears. I rushed to the bed, taking him into my arms. “My h-head hurts.” He said, lip trembling. “It hurts so bad, Gee…”
I kissed him gently, rocking him slowly. “It’s gonna be okay… shh, babe, don’t cry.”
He sniffled, two tears falling down his pale cheeks. He had dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but at the same time his eyes were drooping. It liked like he was too weak to even hold his head up himself. “I feel so bad, Gerard…”
“I know, honey…… I know.” I walked him out to the car, thanking God that it was warming up outside. It took a bit to find the car, but when I did I put him in the front seat and buckled his seat belt. He looked at me pitifully and opened his mouth to say something. “Shh, I know.” I whispered, kissing his cheek. I squeezed his hand. “I know.”
He smiled at me weakly and closed his eyes, falling asleep…
“Gee, I don’t feel good.”
I looked up from where I was drawing to see Frank leaning against the kitchen wall, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He had been in bed all day—though by the circles under his eyes, he hadn’t gotten any sleep since I last checked on him—making his dark hair stand up in odd angles.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, rushing over to him.
“My… my head hurts and I can’t… I don’t know. It hurts bad, Gee.” He said, looking up at me with big green eyes. “I need to lay down.”
“Okay, I’ll carry you to the couch.” I said worriedly, lifting him. His arms went around my neck and he nuzzled me, sighing. “Are you okay?” I whispered, patting down his sweaty hair.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He muttered in a distant voice, his arms tightening around my neck as I began to walk. “I-I’ve been feeling bad… stressed… but I’m not stressed right now.”
I rubbed his back gently after laying him on the couch. He rolled over onto his back and focused on me. “I think I need to go to the doctor…” he moaned out.
That scared me shitless. Frank was never one to saying he needed to go to the doctor, he avoided it at all costs. Usually I had to take him, kicking and screaming. He never told me he needed to go, that he would willingly go… that wasn’t Frankie, yet again he hadn’t been acting normal for days since his migraines started.
“Alright. Let’s go.” I said, nodding, while I lifted him up. I left a note telling Aiden and Eric where we were and to not worry, then got Frankie out to the car.
I sat him in the passenger seat and fastened his belt, trying to remind myself that he was alright. He was going to be alright, especially because we were on our way to the doctors. They would give him medicine and it would be fine…
But what if it was something to do with his coma? What if he wasn’t okay?
It took us about fifteen minutes to get to the nearest hospital and Frank sat in the chair next to me in the waiting room, half conscious, while I hurriedly filled out his papers. He was reading lazily over my shoulder—as much as he could in his half conscious state—and by time I was done filling the papers out I was so scared that I practically ran them up to the front desk and demanded a doctor came out to see us.
A younger man in a white coat came out, and his name tag read ‘Dr. Mittchell; Emergency Room Staff.’ “What has been wrong with him?” The doctor, Dr. Mictchell, asked as I lifted Frank up from his seat.
“Well when he was 17 he suffered a year long coma.” I began, letting Frank lean on me. “Lately whenever he’s stressed, he would get migraines and take Tylenol and they’d go away.”
“Somewhat.” Frank muttered into my shoulder.
“And he’s just been getting worse, the headaches have been harder to get rid of, and it’s affecting his… I dunno, it’s affecting everything.”
The doctor helped me place Frank in a bed and he began checking Frank’s breathing. The doctor began asking Frank questions and I saw Frank’s lips moving but he was talking too low for me to hear. The doctor was nodding, however, and now looking deep into Frank’s eyes with a small flashlight.
“Any dizziness?” he asked Frank, feeling his throat.
Frank gave a slight nod. “Now I’m real dizzy.”
“Nausea?”
Frank gave another nod. “Yeah… I can’t really eat much. I haven’t in two days.”
“Okay.” The doctor nodded. “I think you’re going to be fine. I’m sure its simply stress and lack of eating. Your vital organs seem to be working properly.” The doctor said after ten minutes of looking at Frankie.
“W-what? He’s not fine.” I sputtered. “You can’t just say he’s fine after seeing him for ten minutes. You didn’t see him at the house!”
“Mr. Way, he is fine. He’s a bit malnourished, but otherwise he’s fine.” Dr. Mittchell reassured me.
“W… You can’t really tell me he’s acting like this from stress?” I scoffed, looking at my poor Frankie.
“What he needs is rest. I want him in bed for the next few days, resting. Okay?”
I nodded. “Can he at least have medicine for the headaches?”
“Please?” Frank added in a miserable whimper.
“Some, yes. Now you’re ready to sign out. Any more problems, don’t hesitate to call.” The man smiled and left.
Frank looked ready to burst into tears. I rushed to the bed, taking him into my arms. “My h-head hurts.” He said, lip trembling. “It hurts so bad, Gee…”
I kissed him gently, rocking him slowly. “It’s gonna be okay… shh, babe, don’t cry.”
He sniffled, two tears falling down his pale cheeks. He had dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but at the same time his eyes were drooping. It liked like he was too weak to even hold his head up himself. “I feel so bad, Gerard…”
“I know, honey…… I know.” I walked him out to the car, thanking God that it was warming up outside. It took a bit to find the car, but when I did I put him in the front seat and buckled his seat belt. He looked at me pitifully and opened his mouth to say something. “Shh, I know.” I whispered, kissing his cheek. I squeezed his hand. “I know.”
He smiled at me weakly and closed his eyes, falling asleep…