Tell Me I'm an Angel (Frerard)

Entry Eighteen: Infinite hope and finite disappointment

Entry Eighteen: Infinite hope and finite disappointment

The following month flew by and dragged out all at the same time. We quickly settled into our life in the mountains, and I was relatively happy. Besides the need to travel long distances for supplies, it was a perfect sanctuary.

No demons or angels had managed to find us, and for once, I was able to relax for a time. It was magical living a domestic lifestyle with Frank. Simple things like cooking and cleaning became new and exciting to me because I had someone I loved to share them with.

Most of my doubts about our relationship had flown away, and I was allowing myself to enjoy my time with Frank. He constantly reassured me with actions or words that he loved me, and he wasn't going to leave me, and I was finally starting to believe him.

He seemed genuinely happy in my company, and I stopped doubting every little thing and began to accept that Frank truly wanted to be with me. It was such a weight off of my chest, and I reveled in the feeling of being loved by someone.

Everything would have been flawless if Mikey had been healthy. For the first few days, the rest and lack of physical exertion seemed to have helped, and he was his old self again, but then his illness had taken a turn for the worse, and each hour that passed caused him to deteriorate even further.

I had tried every remedy I could think of, but nothing worked. Frank had even tried to heal him, but it was all to no avail. Now he lay bedridden, his small frame shrunken even further by the terrible fever and his inability to keep food down. I was counting down the days until Brendon returned, and I refused to think of what would happen if he hadn't managed to find a cure.

Another worry was my own health. I had been starting to feel under the weather myself, but I had hidden it from Frank and Mikey. They had enough on their plates to worry about, and I didn't want anything to ruin the newfound happiness I had discovered with Frank.

But it was getting harder to ignore as the days passed. I was always exhausted, even if I did nothing but lay around all day, and I never seemed to be able to get enough sleep. Food was starting to make me nauseous more often than not, and I spent the time after most meals throwing up. I had begun to lose weight, and it was starting to worry me. I was nowhere near as bad as Mikey though, so hopefully it would pass.

Another morning dawned, and I sat by my brother's bedside, pressing a cool towel against his sweaty forehead. Frank had gone out to get some more food and another batch of medicines that would probably do nothing, but we still had to try. It was killing me to see my brother in such a state. I felt so helpless...he should be enjoying our time of peace and tranquility, but instead, he was forced to sit here and suffer.

"Gee?" he croaked out brokenly. I hadn't been aware that he was awake, and I jolted upward at the sound of his voice.

"Hey Mikes..." I tried to put on a cheerful tone, but it failed miserably.

Mikey looked so frail in the pile of blankets I had heaped around him. Even though his skin was burning up, he had insisted that he was cold, so I had raided the house searching for things to keep him warm.

"God - I feel like shit..." he croaked tiredly.

"I know...we are doing everything we can, and Brendon should be here later tonight. He will know what to do."

"I'm sorry...I don't know what's wrong with me...I hate this."

"Don't be sorry. You will pull through soon, I know it."

"Mkay...Gee - I'm still cold."

"Well scoot over then." I climbed into Mikey's bed, being careful not to jostle him too much. Settling down next to him, I pulled him to my chest, and I felt him relax against me."