Oneshot Collection ((just garbage))

Fever ((Frerard))

He awoke in a cold sweat, not from a nightmare, but something else entirely. He lazily crawled over his still sleeping boyfriend and rolled out of the small, creaky bed that they shared in search of the bathroom as he swayed distantly and lightly bumped into walls from time to time, stopping every once in a while to regain his balance as though he had been out at sea for weeks, perhaps even months and had only just returned to flat, solid ground.

He finally grasped a familiar door handle, turning it slowly as he walked into the small room with almost freezing tiled floors and automatic florescent lighting. He let his gaze fall upon his reflection in the large mirror above the counter, seeing that his eyes were far more red than they usually were. Upon his findings, he pulled the loose skin back, the veins in his eye appearing slightly irritated and having a bright red color to them, nearly the color of his hair. He did his best to ignore this as he turned and trudged towards what his boyfriend, Frank, referred to as 'the John'.

He lifted the seat and aimed as well as he could with weak fingers and trembling knees, inevitably missing the bowl a few times but not forgetting to clean up his mess before putting the seat back down and sitting on the cold ring of porcelain. He pushed, but soon felt a familiar feeling crawling up his throat, ultimately giving up on relieving the knotted pain in his lower belly. He wiped away what he had gotten out before standing back up and pulling up his fleece pajama pants and quickly sitting down on his knees in front of the cold, white toilet, his face hovering over the bowl as he tucked his hair behind his ears in hopes of not getting vomit in the already greasy, sweat-soaked mess.

He began to gag and wretch, coughing and spluttering with each flood of acidic, chunky liquid pouring out of his mouth. He gasped for air before another session went through him like a waterfall. His hands shook as he gripped the toilet bowl, his knuckles turning white and his throat burning. He heard a knock at the flimsy, wooden bathroom door.

"Gerard? Is everything okay?" It was Frank, standing on the other side of the door in the darkness of the hallway, a worried expression on his face from being woken up by such heart-wrenching noises as the gasping and coughing.

He reached for the toilet paper, ripping off a good portion and wiping the bile from his mouth. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a minute," he replied as loud as he could possibly muster, his voice absolutely wrecked. He stood up from the floor as he closed the lid and flushed the toilet, looking at his reflection once more before turning the freezing door knob to meet face to face with a sympathetic looking Frank with his brows furrowed and his lips pursed.

"Did you throw up?" Frank questioned, jumping straight to the point.

He nodded his head slowly in response, his left hand coming up to scratch his scalp while the other stayed on the doorknob. Frank then pulled his shaking form into a much needed hug, standing on his toes in an attempt to be at least the height of his boyfriend. "Come back to bed, sweetheart," he whispered, holding Gerard as close to him as he could.

"Okay," he whispered, hugging back by bringing his hands up to hold onto to his shoulder blades. "I love you," he said quietly, pulling away and looking at Frank with desperate eyes.

"I love you, too, baby," Frank replied sweetly, resting his hand on the taller man's shoulder and getting back on his toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He offered a warm smile, to which Gerard replied with a grin before the younger boy took his hand and pulled him back to bed.

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This is short af but it's not too bad. Also, dd/lb Peterick is on the way.