Death Is Strange

SEVENTEEN

Gerard asked Frank to stay that evening. There was a twinge in Frank's heart when he realized Gerard's room was downstairs, through the door by the living room, instead of on the third floor. Of course it was, he told himself. Because everything was fucked up in this sorry excuse of a reality he'd created.

Joyce and Gerard's father settled Gerard in his bed, which looked like something out of a hospital, with a remote dangling from the rail, and a pole attached for the IV pump.

Joyce invited Frank to eat with them at the kitchen table, but he opted to take his plate back to Gerard's room, pulling a chair up beside the bed and balancing his plate on his knees, asking Gerard questions between bites.

What kind of music did he like? Right now he liked jazz, but he was honestly a sucker for boy bands.

Did he like to draw? No, all his ideas he tried to draw were really weird and he didn't want to scare his parents.

Frank finally fell silent, letting Gerard ramble about anime and how that somehow correlated with Lindsey breaking things off as Frank shoveled green beans in his mouth and forced himself to swallow.

Finally, Gerard stopped talking when Frank had finished his dinner and got up to take the plate to the kitchen.

"Frank? Is everything okay, honey?" Joyce asked. She and her husband were seated at the table. "Will, can you check on Gerard?"

Frank realized that he'd never thought to ask Gerard's dad his name. Will, huh, he thought.

Will got up from the table, which Frank noticed was scattered with bills and a calculator.

Joyce followed Frank's gaze. "The money's pretty tight," she explained. "With all Gee's medical expenses, I'm never sure if we're going to make it to the next paycheck."

"Do you both work?" Frank asked.

Joyce shook her head. "I owned a diner downtown, but I sold it after the accident. I just stay home with Gee now." She sighed. "Every day is a gift, Frank. I never know if my baby will still be alive in the morning."

Frank found himself blinking back tears, and he leaned over to hug her. She seemed surprised, but hugged him back. "You're a sweet boy, Frank."

"I'm sorry about everything," he whispered. "Like, you have no idea..." he stopped, and wiped sheepishly at his eyes when Will came back. "I should probably get back to Gerard."

Gerard wanted to watch Lord of the Rings. Frank managed to find The Return of the King in the drawers beneath the TV. He put it in, and settled back in his chair beside Gerard's bed, propping his elbow on the edge of the bed.

"I've always thought Legolas was great," Gerard wheezed. "I've always wondered what I'd look like with long hair. Maybe even dye it blond."

Frank didn't trust himself to reply; he simply patted Gerard's limp hand.

"Thank you," Gerard said.

Frank looked up. "For what?"

"You're the first person that hasn't treated me like I'm either a piece of glass or just disgusting," he said. "Other than my parents, nobody cares. And when they do stop by, they won't touch me."

Frank turned Gerard's hand palm-up, weaving his tattooed fingers through Gerard's cold ones. "I'm not afraid to touch you," he said, his voice choked.

Gerard smiled faintly, and closed his eyes.

Frank leaned his head against Gerard's forearm, and closed his eyes. Gerard smelled like a hospital. Frank missed the real Gerard. The one that smelled like Old Spice and cigarettes, and always had smudges of ink and pencil on the sides of his hands.