50 Thoughts That Scare Me [Frerard]

One Day -Chapter 8

I laid in the hospital bed, hooked up to bags of medicine, some weird machine, and only god knows what else. Well, I mean if there really is a god, he would know. My Aunt Marie sat in the uncomfortable chair beside me, to the left. I already felt weak, I could practically already see the hair falling out of my head. My face was still really pale, I guess it's because my body just hates chemo. Who knows? Maybe this is what's supposed to happen, or it could just be my body hating me or something. 

"You okay?" My Aunt Marie asked me quietly, squeezing my hand tightly. 

"I'm fine." I said back. I closed my eyes and just laid there resting. When I closed my eyes I could picture my mom smiling at me, because as she would say it, I'm 'one step closer to recovery.' My mom always knew what to say, chemo was never boring when she was here. But now that she's gone, everything is gray, hopeless. My aunt doesn't know what to do here, I can't blame her, she's watching her nephew go through some of the most painful shit ever. But god, do I miss my mom. Not to mention, now that she's gone I have to hear "I'm so sorry for your lose" then get handed some sort of baked casserole in a glass pan. Yeah, because nothing says 'I'm sorry your mom died' like hot baked food. Stupid pity. 

"I don't want anyone finding out about this. Especially Gerard." I whispered out of no where. 

"Why not?" My aunt asked .

"Because. When I die, I want to die without the pity parade." I answered slowly. "And about Gerard, he'll look at me differently. I can take care of myself. Please." I whispered again. 

"Okay." It sounded like she was holding back tears. I sighed and thought about what would happen if Gerard knew. Things would be so different. I would hate it. I fear the day he finds out. 

"You ready to go home, Frank?" Aunt Marie asked once chemo was done. I shook my head. I was feeling a bit dizzy. 

She helped me stand up and walked out to the car. I sat in the front passenger seat and leaned back, closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. My Aunt Marie drove me back to her house before she drove herself back to hers. I told her I was fine with living by myself. I would have to conquer the fear of being alone some day. She seemed to agree with me, like it was my last dying wish, but it wasn't. 

As soon as I got in the door and sat down someone, who I suspected was Gerard, was knocking on the door quickly. I sighed and walked to the door and opened it without hesitation, indeed it was Gerard. He smiled a little, but then frowned. I just remembered I probably looked horrible because of the chemo, and here he was, looking at me. I must look like I just walked through the pits of hell itself. 

"You don't look too good. Are you okay?" He asked, taking a step into the house. I led him into the living room. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." My voice cracked a couple of times due to how thirsty I was. Gerard just tightly held his lips closed, keeping himself from saying something. While I just silently begged him to say what he wants to say. 

"You want to say something." I pointed out.

"It's just that. You don't look fine. You're pale, and you just look miserable." He sighed, trying to sugar-coat what he probably wanted to actually say. Which I imagine was something like 'Jesus Christ, you look like you've just been through a traumatic experience and haven't slept in 2 years. Not to mention you look water deprived.' 

"One day." I said to him. 

"One day? What do you mean?" He cocked his head to the side. 

"One day, I promise, you'll know why I look like I've just encountered hell." I nodded as he seemed to understand what I meant.

"I started a new drawing." He whispered. 

"Can I see?" I asked. He thought for awhile probably debating whether showing me his art was a good idea or not. Soon, he made his mind up that showing me wasn't a bad idea. He pulled out his sketchbook from a bag he had with him. It was one of those shoulder bags you'd expect an artist to carry around with extra pencils or sketch pads for when the decide to draw in public places like the park.

He flipped to the page and turned the sketchbook around, letting me see the drawing on the paper. It was of a boy, he was sitting on the branch of a high up tree. He was looking down below as people seemed to pass him by. The boy had a look of sadness on his face. You could tell it was a depressing drawing, but it brought out reality more than anything else. 

"Wow. I love that." I wouldn't have imagined Gerard holding in such feeling like that. 

"Can I know why you drew that?" I asked him. 

"One day." He said. Imitating me. But then I thought, maybe I wouldn't last to see one day. The thought of Gerard holding such emotion in him scared me. It put me on edge, not knowing why he felt like the kid in the drawing. The thought of not living to see one day scared me also. I desperately needed answers as to why Gerard felt like the kid. He didn't and doesn't deserve to feel like the kid. I hope one day is soon. You never know how many more days you have until you take your last breathe, but I'm counting down my numbered days. 

"Are you okay? You seem deep in thought." Gerard asked, intently examining my thinking face. If I even had a thinking face. I would assume it's just my normal face, because I'm always thinking. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered back with a slight smile. For some reason Gerard's concern about me made me smile, I have never been so pleased with someone worrying about me. I really thought that was for sure one of my fears. Oh wait, no, that was the pity. 

"Why do you always say 'fine' or 'I'm fine'?" He asked, clearly confused with me. Like always, I'm used to it. 

"Because that's all I am, fine. Even if I'm not fine, I'm fine." I nodded again and smiled. He shook his head, looking interested and in thought about the words I had said. 

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1. I'm scared of the thought that people don't take time to realize what they have

2. I'm scared of the thought of swallowing a simple pill.

3. I'm scared of the thought of someone giving me pity

4. I'm scared of the thought that one day, someone will know exactly what I'm thinking.

5. I'm scared of the thought, that I don't know what to think. 

6.I'm scared of the thought of  people reading my mind off of how I act or look. (Just like Gerard)

7. I'm scared to be alone. 

8. I'm scared of the dizzy and noxious feeling I get. 

9. I'm scared of telling people personal things about myself. 

10. I'm scared of eating in front of people. They'll judge me. 

11. I'm scared of death.

12. I'm scared of Mrs.Rodgers.

13. I'm scared to tell Gerard about my condition. 

14. I'm scared about my mom not being here.

15. I'm scared at how much I'm opening up to Gerard.

 16. I'm scared of the day Gerard finds out about my condition.

17. I'm scared of the feeling and emotion Gerard holds in himself. 

18. I'm scared because I might not live to see one day.