Billie Joe had his hands full that night. Gerard was in critical condition. Frank's throat was bleeding. He was coughing the stuff up, though when Billie asked if he was in pain, he would shake his head. Then he would cough up more. Billie knew he would have to do something about him soon if the bleeding didn't stop. The kid had fucked up, that was for sure. Then again, he couldn't have known.
'Billie?' The page is thrust in front of his face. He pulls back to read it. Frank is holding a mostly-bloody towel over his mouth with one hand. The other is holding the notebook in front of him. He looks at the short kid.
"What is it?" Frank turns the page. 'What's wrong with Gerard? Will he be okay? What happened? He's not gonna die, is he?' Billie smiles sadly. Frank may have been nineteen or twenty-Billie didn't know at all-but he worried about Gerard like a five year old would when their dog is about to get put down. They don't know.
"The thing is, Frank... He's got a heart condition. It runs in his family. His brother's had surgery for it... But Gerard can't get it. I don't have what he'd need here. Those of us that knew he has it have been hoping that nothing will happen to trigger it, but..." He shrugs.
Frank feels tears spring to his eyes. It was all his fault. But Billie hadn't answered any of his questions really. He shakes the paper a bit, edging it closer to Billie's eyes. He sighs.
"Basically, the main artery that connects to the heart is weak. It had been his whole life. It's only gotten progressively worse over his lifetime, though. He's supposed to die an early death. It's something that's been going through his family since before his grandma's grandma. The only way Mikey got it fixed was by getting a surgery that implanted some kind of helper-type cell to strengthen the walls and the connection point between the artery and the heart." Billie pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers before continuing.
"Gerard has a fifty-fifty chance of getting better." Frank's heart skipped a beat before picking up again. He was no longer coughing up blood, so he pulled the towel away.
"As to what happened... What you said to him was basically the equivalent of shooting him in the head. His heart stopped. It gave out. Whatever you want to call it, he went into cardiac arrest. The artery in his heart isn't supplying him enough blood. He'll either die because the artery gives out completely and... well, I could tell you exactly what would happen, but for your sake, he would drown in his own blood that will fill his lungs. On the chance that he doesn't die..." Billie looks Frank dead in the eye.
"Well... He'd probably be disabled in some way. From the lack of complete oxygen his brain is getting now, I mean. He'd either be mentally handicapped or he'd develop asthma or something!" Bille says, exasperated. Frank wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Frank. The best thing for you to do now is get cleaned up. Take a shower, get some sleep. Then I can tell you what Gerard was doing all the time he was in that room." Frank nodded numbly, stumbling blindly out of Billie's medical room and out into the hall. Up a flight, two left turns, one right, fifth door on the right.
Frank cleans up quickly and barely wastes time putting on pants before grabbing Gerard's Iron Maiden shirt. He had put it on Frank after he had cut into Frank's back. It seemed so long ago to Frank, but it was barely two months. Frank slipped it on over his head and curled up in the middle of the bed.
Frank hated it. The bed felt too bit, too cold without Gerard. The sheets smelled like him. The pillow. The pillowcases. Frank shuts his eyes tightly, his tears leaking onto the sheets and soaking into the mattress below. Frank pulls the too-big shirt's collar up to his face. He breathes deeply and lets silent sobs rack his body.
