When Frank woke up, he was alone. His chest tightened and he sat upright quickly. Nobody around. He wasn't in Billie's medical room anymore. Someone must have moved him last night. Or yesterday. He wasn't entirely sure what time it had been. He was still wearing Gerard's old Iron Maiden shirt. He smiled and hugged his arms around himself and decided that getting something to eat would be best. But he'd go to see Gerard first.
Frank passed a mirror on his way out the door and looked at it for a few long, hard minutes. He cocked his head to the side and tugged at his hair a bit. It was getting long. The brown was fading out, as well. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, wondering if he could go out to get it cut, or have someone here cut it. Maybe Bob would do it? Frank had an idea in his head.
He went down to Billie's medical room. He didn't like it there. Not because it smelled like dust and plastic and cigarette smoke, but because he had never particularly liked being in a hospital-like room to visit people. It made him feel like he was going to have to say goodbye to the person soon.
Frank sighs when he reaches the door. He hesitates, though. He realized the entire place was just a large area of patchwork basements joined by narrow hallways that were somewhere beneath the sewers of the city. That said, each different basement had had at least a dozen large, never-empty rooms. There was always something for each one. Frank never understood why they had to have so much space, but Gerard had explained to him that it was to accommodate for all the people that worked for him.
When Frank had 'asked' him what he meant, Gerard had explained further. There were almost a hundred people working for him. They were always out running errands. They usually never stayed here, but each person had a room assigned to him or her. Some people never stopped by. Some people stopped by every minute, between jobs, so on and so forth.
Frank also noticed none of the doors were exactly alike. Gerard's was painted black. There were quite a few nicks and scratches. A large chunk of it was missing from when it was busted down. It was rough, as though it had been beaten with a pair of soccer cleats and then put up. The one to the congregating area was metal and very heavy, at least to Frank.
Billie's was an army green color. Metal, thin-ish and always cold. It frightened Frank. To him cold meant death. Cold meant that there was a dead body that was being kept cold. It meant that Gerard was gone, too. It had been cold outside when his legs had been injured. It had been cold outside when he returned from the hospital. The weather channel had said it was below freezing and snowing the day Gerard's heart failed.
Frank bites his lip ring and slowly opens the door, poking his head in. It's quiet. He looks at the brown door to the side of the room. It lead to Billie's bedroom and bathroom. It was shut and there was no light coming from beneath it. He could hear two sets of different breathing. One was in the room, the other in Billie's room. Frank stepped in and lightly shut the door behind him. He could hear Billie snoring in his room. Frank couldn't blame him, really. It seemed like Billie never got any sleep, he was so busy taking care of everyone. He was like a mom, really. A very masculine, punked-out mom, but a mom nonetheless.
Frank steps between the opening in one of the sets of medical curtains, looking over his shoulder at Billie's door. Gerard is on the other side, sleeping peacefully. Frank can hear his breathing. It's calm, serene, tranquil. Frank smiles. He almost doesn't want to risk waking him up, but he has to. He needs to ask Gerard something desperately. When Frank turns around, though, he knows if he had a voice, it would be letting out a blood-curdling scream. All he can see, the floors, the walls, the curtains, the bed, Gerard, even a bit on the ceiling. It's everywhere. It's on everything. Gerard looks peaceful, but Frank doesn't see how he could be. It's everywhere.
Blood.
