So Little Time (Frerard) *New Version*

13: All My Walls Are Built And On Display

"Frank...please lay down, you are still sick, you need your rest," Gerard forced Frank to get into bed, and when he tried to retreat, Frank clutched onto his hand with all of his strength, pulling Gerard against the mattress roughly.

"Don't go - you promised," Frank choked out, throwing his arm over Gerard's torso as if that would prevent him from leaving.

"If that's what you want," Gerard sighed, his body stiff and uncomfortable under Frank's.

"So...are you going to answer my question?" Frank asked after a few minutes of awkward silence had passed, and he had finally gotten his sobs under control.

"Hmm?" Gerard hummed quietly, and Frank had to suppress a sigh of exasperation.

"The last time this happened, you swore you would let me know whenever you felt like hurting yourself again...but you didn't, and I want to know why." Frank sat up so he could see Gerard better, crossing his arms stubbornly when Gerard began glancing around the room, as if he was looking for something to distract Frank from the current conversation.

"Frank...can we talk about this in the morning - you still have a fever, and I really don't want to make it worse," Gerard argued, his hand reaching for the thermometer before Frank trapped it under his palm.

"Talking isn't going to make my temperature rise, and I'm already feeling better - so how about this, I will try and fall back asleep if you give me an answer, because fuck knows I'm not going to get any rest until I know."

"I - it's not that I didn't want to Frank," Gerard sighed, and Frank settled back down against the pillow with a satisfied grunt now that Gerard had finally given in, "but you were sick, and I just couldn't...I thought I was okay, and I tried not to do it - I called Mikey, but that made it worse, because I had to explain about your...tumor, and - fuck Frank, I'm sorry," Gerard apologized again, and Frank was really getting tired of hearing those two words, because they meant nothing now.

"Gerard, I don't care if I'm asleep, or on my fucking death bed, but you promised you would come to me, and my condition doesn't change that - okay?" Frank smiled, expecting Gerard to return his expression, and maybe agree with Frank before pulling him into his arms, but pretty much the complete opposite happened.

"Really Frank - it doesn't change anything, because it really fucking does okay. Do you know how pathetic it makes me feel that I need to wake up my dying boyfriend because I'm so messed up, I can't even handle a fucking fever without doing something like this - I can't even stand myself right now, and I have no idea how you can," Gerard scoffed in disgust, and for some reason, Gerard's reaction set off a fuse in Frank's mind, and before Frank could think about what he was saying, his mouth was spitting out words without his brain's consent.

"God Gerard - did you even think about how I would feel when I found out, because I would, you know I would. You think you are pathetic - well, at least I would turn to you if I was feeling that way, at least I trust you enough to let you in, but apparently I'm such a terrible boyfriend, you have to hide all this shit away from me, because I can't handle it. You don't give a shit about my feelings, or that I have fucking nightmares about walking in on you, sprawled out on the floor and bleeding from the wrist do you, and instead of coming to me when you fucking promised you would, you leave me here - clueless and scared. What if you cut too deep, what if I didn't wake up when Mikey called me - oh that's right - you don't care," Frank spat out, a second round of tears filling his eyes, but he used his anger to burn them away.

When Frank glanced up at Gerard, his broken expression caused a physical spike of agony to erupt in Frank's chest. Frank knew he was only making this situation worse with his irrational fury, but he was terrified of what could have happened to Gerard if Frank hadn't managed to stop him before he got carried away, and Frank's method of dealing with that was to get pissed off, and even though he regretted the way his sentiments were coming out, he still meant every word of it.