Never Look Up (Frerard Dld sequel)

Chapter 2

Gerard pov:
It seems like most of my time has been spent in the hospital lately. I guess I don't mind. I'm trying to follow the advice my mom gave by being there for Raymond. In a way, I'm desperately trying to redeem myself. Though I know my efforts are overall useless. I can't help but feel like The actions leading to this moment are unforgivable.

"How are you sweetie?" Mrs. Toro asked as she gave me a half hug. She and Mr. Toro just flew back from California. I hate that they returned home to this.

"Welcome back to Jersey. I'm really sorry you returned to all this chaos." I said, shaking my head as I avoided their gaze. She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Noticing my apparent guilt, she said. "It's not your fault Gerard. I don't care what you did. Ray would say the same if he could."

I peered up at her from behind my fringe and nodded, unable to find the right words.

I thought about what she said for a moment, though my mind traveled elsewhere as I evaluated her familiar features. Her eyes where always first thing I noticed about her when I was growing up. They always resembled Ray's. Happy, beaming. Now they held a great deal of sadness; probably for her son. It physically pains me to think that I contributed to the cause of this. Seeing her only forced a greater amount of guilt on my shoulders.

Mr. Toro stepped forward. "Go easy on yourself, alright? Also know, we appreciate all that you're doing for our son. We know it must be hard with everything going on with your family."

Mr. Toro wrapped an arm around his wife then walked into Ray's room. I stayed in the hallway to give them a sense of privacy.

Easy on myself? How could I? It's my fault. Do they not blame me?

Mikey proves that biggest worry. He blames me; I can tell. The way he looks at me; it makes everyday a little more unbearable then it already was.

Frank has mixed feelings. He doesn't want to blame me, but he does. He feels obligated to say he doesn't because he's my boyfriend. He does his best to support me with what little stability remains; however, that can only go so far. With everything that is going on with Frank mentally; I doubt he can take much more.

"Mr. Way?"
Dr. Armstrong was walking down the hallway, his off white coat somewhat clashing with the whiter walls.

"Doctor." I addressed with a small nod of my head. Honestly, I was upset with him. He has poor judgment of my brother and I. He completely regards my mother's concerns about what they are doing for Mikey's treatment. His demeanor is so impudent; it aggravates me to no end.

"How are you?" He asked with a professional smile that looked as if it was forced onto his face.

I never understood why doctors feel like they have to start a conversation with you. His main concern is currently Ray and his family not me. Besides, i'm his least favorite patient.

"Fine." I answered curtly.

"How are your sessions with Dr. Williams? Good I assume." He implied with an overly polite tone.

"Fine. The past month has really improved my life, such a difference." I replied with so much sarcasm that I almost felt bad for speaking.

He noticed this, giving me a scold of annoyance.

"Gerard, if you have a problem with me or your psychiatrist, I suggest you make one of us aware of that. If you're uncomfortable, let us know." He replied professionally, though he was slightly upset with me. "If you'll excuse me." He spat lowly then stepped around me and into Ray's room. I turned as he began to discuss with Ray's parents; any evidence of our previous conversation gone as he portrayed a look of concern rather than frustration.

~

"I don't know mom. I just don't trust him." I demurred. My mom scolded me; apparently, I'm depicting a difficult behavior.

"Why are you always looking for trouble Gerard? Just let the man do his job." She argued with a stressful sigh.

"How can you say that? I can tell you don't agree with everything they do." I countered quite loudly.

"I'm not the one with the Ph.D., and neither are you, Gerard." She muttered, disgracing the dish cloth down into the sink with a scoff, abandoning the dirty dishes to give me her full attention.

"Why can't you just listen to me?! For the past month no one has! I'm fucking sick of it! I know I made a mistake, quit treating me like I'm the bad guy. I'm trying to help. Can't you see?! I feel bad! Ray is paying for my mistakes and I can't help him!" I released a shaky breath and I felt my shoulders slump down.

She seemed slightly taken back by what I had just said; Maybe even regretful for getting upset with me. Her stressed features folded out, and she leaned against the counter. "You can't fix this exactly. They can. It's their job. Corporate and this can be over." She spoke.

"It's never going to be completely over. We're all so fucked up from what happened." Lately a thought has been clouding my mind. I haven't talked with anyone about it.

"Ray will be okay, Honey." She soothed.

"Maybe. But it's not just that. Think of it this way, no matter how much time passes or how often we go to a therapist; we're still going to be mentally fucked up, and you're still going to be unhealthily stressed. It's never going to end."

"Gerard you're not mentally fucked up. None of you are."

"My prescriptions say otherwise. Mom, we're sick. Normal people don't have to go through this. I can't help but feel guilty because it's wearing you down, and I know that it's not fair to you."

"Gerard, don't worry about me. I just want what's best for my boys. If that means being stressed, then I'll be stressed for 1,000 years if have to. I love you both, and Frank." I peered up into her red glassy eyes. "You need to relax." She whispered placing a finger under my chin and rubbed circles on my cheek with her thumb. I shut my eyes, embracing the much needed comfort.

"Okay, I'm sorry mom." I whimpered though my feelings on the overall situation remained the same.

"Go check on Frank. He's been in your guys' bedroom all day."

"He didn't speak to you?" I asked suddenly concerned.

"Hasn't left the room at all. He'll listen to you." She insisted.

I nodded before walking down the hall toward our bedroom.

"Frank?" I gave the door a gentle knock. My fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting it slowly and leaning on the door to push it open. Frank sat on the bed with his legs crossed, writing frantically in his journal. I told Dr. Williams about Frank, and she recommend that he starts writing down what he dreams about. All the bad things and even the good all in one place. She hopes to eventually read it, but Frank doesn't exactly favor that.

At first, Frank was reluctant. He doesn't tell anyone what he terrorizes about, not even me. Though I have a few ideas. I constantly ponder what's going trough his head. Scares me that I don't know.

Frank was blaring his music through his headphones, the distant sound I could hear from where I stood in the doorway. Frank looked up, and his tired yet beautiful hazel eyes met with mine. A weary smile spread on his face and he pulled out each ear bud. "Hey." He grinned closing the journal and tossing it aside.

"Hey."