The Lies and the Lives of the Taken

Frank 32

        I know the sun is going to start rising soon but I can't tell if I managed to fall asleep at all. Just lying here, turning over every so often, seeing the hours slip away. I don't think I fell asleep. It's been a long night, dragging on with burning eyes. But I just couldn't knock out. 

        It feels like I'm already asleep, like I'm dreaming and this is all a nightmare I'm waiting to wake up from. It doesn't seem like this is real. But I know that it is because I'm wide away. I turn on my side, glancing at Gerard sleeping. The last time I slept next to him, he looked years younger. More innocent, less tension and stress in him, age has worn off from his face. But now, he looks just as disarrayed as he was awake. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, body lock and rigid. I look at him softly, curling up closer to him, wrapping my arms around him and absorbing the heat radiating from his body. I lay my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thumping in my ear and my head rising and falling in sync with his shallow breathing. He's hurting. I don't blame him though. His best friend passed away. Horribly tragic. Hyper...carido-something. I can't remember what Gerard told me but sudden heart failure. 

        I guess it was hereditary in his family. But Gerard was with him when it happened. They were walking back to the office after lunch when he just collapsed. Called 911 and I guess they did CPR so he was back but wasn't responding after that. Gerard took it hard when he got home. Which is why I found him so self-destructive and he couldn't give me a straight answer. The next morning, he went to see Brendon but he passed away before he got there. 

        I couldn't imagine what he's going through. I didn't know him well but from what I remember, he was very nice and had a calming presence to him. And I could tell he and Gerard were very close. The way Brendon looked at him in the hospital in Austria when Gerard was going into shock, how desperate he was for him to be okay. The tables have turned here. Why did they have to turn? Why did something have to happen? Things were going just fine, well, starting to at least. Gerard's had a rough last few months. Why can't he just catch a break?

        I look at him, staring at his bangs dusting over his forehead. I know he's older than me by a few years but I feel like he's a little child I want to protect from the world. At least from all the tragedy going on in his life. He suppresses everything down. I don't think that's good for him. One day, he's going to crack, deeper than he did with the vodka. And I pray he's not alone when that happens otherwise who knows what he'll do to himself. 

        Why does someone have it cut out for him to suffer? Even when I met him, he was getting mugged. Had I not been there, he would have been shot. Then he would've been in the hospital and who knows if he would have been lucky like me to not get shot somewhere important. And then there was the bombing at the hotel his colleagues and he were staying at. I know a few people died too. He wasn't as close to them as everyone, well, I think he slipped once and a close friend of his did pass away in the terrorist attack. But he doesn't talk about that friend much. I remember he used to tell me about Johnny. But now, Gerard acts like he never met Johnny, never bringing him up. It probably hurts him too much. 

        Just when the trauma of the hotel was finally passing, he gets in that stupid car accident and nearly died. Again. He went into shock, he got hurt badly. He was so broken and weak and hurt. But he was going home at least. And all the terrible memories could heal properly, leaving them behind in Austria. But it seems it's not Austria that has it out for him. It's just him. Because even here, suddenly, his best and longest friend dies in front of him. 

        His life is so hard. Well, it's his work life that seems to be cursed. It was the hotel his company was staying at. And he was in a car accident after meetings. And his colleagues died. Well, I also know his parents passed away when he was little. One would think the life of some accountant or financial advisor or translator or...whatever it is he does, it shouldn't be this...traumatic. What even is it that he does? I get the translation part but I don't know what he does when everyone is speaking the same language. Something with numbers but like I don't know. He tells me things the company does but never himself. Granted, he finds it boring and usually, I'm the one talking about work.