I'll be Home for Christmas (A Frerard Story)

Chapter Four: Mom, Stop It (Part 1)

 When I regained conciousness, there was a strong buzzing background noise above indistinct voices. The back of my head hurt like hell and someone was touching my head with the back of their palm. I didn't like the feeling. I sat up, wherever I was, and opened my eyes. The background noise started to clear.

"He's awake." A voice said.

"Good! Good, let's give him a few minutes to rest and then get him some water." Said another.

My vision was still all fuzzy but I could make out the outlines of two, no, three people there.

"Gerard?" The second voice called. My hearing cleared up a little and I realized that it belonged to my mother.

I tried to say something but it probably came out as a mumble.

"He's trynna talk!" Frank said.

I shut my eyes, rolled them back in my head, and opened them again. My vision was finally clear but I still felt a little lightheaded. I was laying on my bed with two pillows supporting my head and upper back. My mom was sitting close to my chest, Frank was standing off to the side, and Mikey was in the back looking forlorn with his arms crossed.

"Gerard? Can you hear me?! How many fingers am I holding up?" My mom asked.

I squinted to focus my eyes on her hand.

"Four, right?"

"Yeah, good."

She sighed in relief.

"Are you hurting anywhere?"

I moaned.

"The back of my head hurts but I'm not bleeding anything. And I don't have a concusion."

"Well that stubborn attitude surely gives that away." My mom said with a laugh and a shake of the head.

Mikey walked a little closer to me, so that his face was now visible under the dim lights.

"You know, we were actually right outside your house and then Frank answered the door and told us about what happened."

"Oh. Wait, how long was I out for?"

I looked over at Frank.

"About five minutes, nothing too bad."

"Jeez, five minutes?! People usually black out for like, seconds!"

"I know. It was probably longer for you because you were sleep deprived and hungry. Plus, the only thing you drunk today was the orange juice. Speaking of which..."

He reached behind him and handed me a glass of cold water. I took it and slowly drank for a bit, then gave it back to him.

"Uh, I don't think so." Mom said.

"Wait, what?"

"You're not leaving this room until you drink that whole glass."

She crossed her arms.

"Mom, I'm good. Honestly."

"Tell me, if you're good, then why did Frankie have to carry you to your bed after finding you laying on the floor around the bottom of the stairs, hm?"