When Gerard wakes up, Billie is there. Gerard blinks a few times, trying to clear his vision. Billie smiles and injects something into the IV connected to his arm. He immediately has to fight the urge to throw up. He hates needles. He's never liked them. He's afraid of them. No tattoos, no piercings. He fights getting shots. Billie has to do some really embarrassing breathing technique with him. Gerard would probably die of embarrassment if someone were to have ever walked in then.
"Billie, where is he?" Gerard croaks out. His throat hurts.
"I sent him to get cleaned up and get some sleep, Gerard. He's hurting, Gerard. I told him when he got back that I'd tell him what you were doing in the room." Gerard shakes his head as much as he can.
"No!" He protests weakly, wishing he could sit up. "He'll be more upset! He'll just tell me he hates me again." Gerard's voice catches and he momentarily can't speak. Billie shakes his head.
"The screaming and yelling he did pretty much disintegrated the fake vocal chords. He can't talk anymore. He can't talk ever, now, actually." Gerard's heart thuds painfully faster in his chest. It was his fault. He knew he was upset that Frank could speak, but he hadn't wanted Frank to lose his voice over it. Billie looks at the monitor that beeps each time Gerard feels his heart thud agonizingly slow in his chest.
"He's- he hates me more, doesn't he?" Gerard feels tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes and he closes them tightly, willing them away. They won't go, though. Billie shakes his head, though Gerard doesn't see.
"Dude! The little punk's fucking crying his eyes out over what he did! He triggered your heart condition. You'll... probably live, I think. But you're gonna be weak. For a long time. I give you eight months' recovery. At the very least. Maybe a year. Possibly more." Gerard sighs and reaches up a shaky hand to wipe his eyes.
"But... I'll be able t-to walk on my own, right? I can walk on my own. I can still hold hands with Frank and do all that lovey-dovey shit, right?" Billie bit his lip.
"If it's... gentle and slow enough, yes. Gerard, I'm saying what I'm about to say as you doctor and your friend." Gerard nods for him to go on. "You can't sleep with Frank til you're at least half-way recovered. That could take four months, six months, maybe more. But not until I say so, alright?" Gerard nods.
"That's if he even cares about me anymore." Gerard mumbles, his heartbreak audible in his voice. Billie sighs and produces a syringe of what could be described as liquid melatonin. He adds it to Gerard's IV when he's not looking and slips the green curtain back around Gerard's bed.
Frank comes in not even a minute later, looking worn down and as though his dog just died. Billie opens his arms. He doesn't expect Frank to hug him, but he's mildly happy when he does. Billie pats Frank's head. "Hey, c'mon. It'll be okay. He was awake a few minutes ago. He'll be just fine..." Frank looks at him, a happy smile spreading across his face.
'Really?' He mouths. Billie Joe nods.
"Yeah. He thinks you hate him, though..." Frank's previously happy face contorts with horror. He shakes his head furiously and lightly tugs at the green curtain. He's asking to see Gerard. Billie shakes his head and sits Frank down on one of the examination beds. Frank swings his feet. They're fairly far off the ground.
"What Gerard was doing in that room was looking for James Dewees." Frank pales and he grabs at the still-sore scabbed-over gash on his leg. The stitches had done their job in keeping his skin together, now it was his body's job to heal it all the way.
"He wanted revenge on James, for what he did to both of you." Billie sighs. "Frank, I don't know how to tell you this, but... We got your medical reports from the hospital the night you got back, and, well..." Billie bites his lip and blows out a gust of air.
"Well, James Dewees raped you while you were unconscious."
