The Kids Of War And Peace

6. I've Got Your Back If You've Got Mine

Linda had all three of us stay home the next day because Gerard got a cold. Mikey had told me that Gerard wasn’t really sick, he was just avoiding school because he would get harassed again. Linda actually thought he was sick. Gerard kind of was sick, he was physically sick, but mentally and emotionally healthy as much as he could he kept getting fevers and such, but it was just nerves. Mikey was still asleep, and I was sitting in my room with Gerard, who was curled up under the blankets on my bed. Only his head was showing, his eyes were half open and they were bloodshot, I didn’t think he had slept the night before.

“You know, you can go to sleep.” I whispered, he shook his head and sniffled. His sinuses were all fucked up too, he had a cough and a stuffed up nose. I felt kind of bad for him. Mikey had told me that once he got a nerve sickness he would end up getting really sick almost immediately after. It was kind of like a Gerard-Flu. I hesitantly reached out and touched the back of my hand to his forehead. He had a high fever, burning hot. I could feel a scar near the line of his hair at the top of his head. I knew what it was from, I wouldn’t mention it, but I knew what it was from.

“Me sick. Not want you sick.” Gerard croaked out, his voice was hoarse, his throat was sore. I gave him a sympathetic smile and shook my head.

“There’s no way you can get me sick.” I said, I reached over onto my nightstand and handed him a glass of water and ibuprofen for his fever. I had gotten a shit ton of vaccines and other stuff to prevent me getting sick, I was always sick as a kid, I had such a low immune system. Gerard took the pills with no problem, but his clammy hands almost dropped the condensation covered glass. I had to help him hold it, our fingertips touching. Gerard stared at that now, forgetting that he had a glass of cold water in our hands. The bandaids from the day before were still on his knuckles, barely looking worn or anything. Like a protective shell of cloth. “You really should try and sleep, Gerard.” I told him. “Would you like some hot cocoa or some tea?” I asked. Gerard looked up at me through his stringy black hair, his hazel eyes searching mine…searching for something I probably wouldn’t ever know.

“Want, please.” Gerard mumbled tiredly. I nodded and set the glass down. I got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. Linda was in there making herself some hot cocoa that was surprising, normally she wasn’t up at this hour. It was only eight thirty, she had to go to work at noon on Tuesdays. She looked at me and smiled. “Can you make another cup of that, please?” I asked.

“I’m surprised you’re up, Frankie.” Linda said, she nodded at my question and got another mug out. “Did Gerard keep you up?” Linda asked.

“Nah, well…kind of, but that doesn’t matter.” I answered. She poured another mug and handed it over to me.

“Careful, it’s hot.” Linda warned, I nodded and thanked her. I went back upstairs to my room. Gerard was sitting up, he was looking at the palm of his hand, his fingertips, I tapped on the door to get his attention, but he didn’t move a muscle. I walked in and sat on the bed.

“Gerard?” I asked, he flinched slightly and looked up at me. I held the mug out to him. “Careful, it’s hot.” I warned in a voice like Linda gave me. A voice that was sounding as if it were a guardian, a shield or something. It was a protective and caring voice. Gerard took the mug in his hands and sat up a little bit more. I was surprised he could sit up with a fever that high.

“Touch me.” Gerard whispered, he held out his other hand that wasn’t holding the mug. I gave him a weird look and he nodded his head. “Hand, touch, now.” He croaked. I hesitantly stuck out my hand and touched his fingertips. His fingertips were so soft against mine, rough in some spots, but soft, I could feel tiny scars, like maybe he had gotten paper cuts or something cut there on his delicate skin. His warmth made me feel warm inside, I looked up from our hands and his eyes were on me. He drank a little bit of the hot cocoa, but his eyes never left mine.