i'm not a medical professional, obviously, so bear with me ☆
FRANK AWOKE TO a piercing light in his eyes. Which was actually the first thing he noticed before the inevitable fucking numbness in both of his legs.
"Jesus fuck," Frank felt himself croak, his mouth drier than it had ever been as he opening his eyes drowsily again, being met with the eggshell white of a hospital room.
The first thing he saw when he looked down, was the hospital gown adorning his torso, his droopy eyes also taking note of his elevated legs. Of course his right leg wrapped up in some sort of cast whilst the other was just wrapped.
His mind immediately replayed the last few things he could remember. Frank's hands nervously scratching at one another as he visualised it all again.
The mark on his conscious was like a chipped stone. The mark was eternal, a scar from the bullet that nearly took him away. One moment his eyes shined with the mirth of Brendon's playful complaining, the next he was bleeding out, eyes open, unfocused. He was nothing to the shooter, not the bullet or gun, and together they could have taken all he had.
The gunshot sounded as if it could have cracked a skull, as if the sound itself could purify the mind. Frank wincing as he thought of the liquified brains like fish guts in a blender.
He let out a shaky breath, feeling his throat burn like an uproar of a silent scream, his eyes burning the more he remembered.
Frank hated it all, he hated how weak he felt- how it all hurt so much and he had been barely awake long enough to count how many fingers he had.
The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. He felt the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child and he looked toward the hospital room window, as if the light could soothe him. There was static in his head once again, the side effect of this constant suppression, constant stress. He heard his own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside.
It took something out of him he didn't know he had left to give. It felt like a theft of his spirit, an injury past just the wound in both of his legs, a much deeper wound that no one would ever be able to see.
Frank's eyes blurred with more tears. His walls, the walls that had held him up, made him so strong were just... collapsing with him still stuck between them. Moment by moment, more would fall. Salty drops fell from his chin, staining his hospital gown and tickling his neck. Perhaps the tears would help wash the images of his own blood off of his conscious.
And Frank nearly shit his pants when someone opened the hospital door he hadn't even seen was there. He immediately wiped his face and neck with shaky hands, suppressing a small noise of pain as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
A man in a crisp white coat walked in, looking sympathetic when he saw the distraught look across Frank's face.
"Detective, you're finally awake." The man smiled, Frank way too drained to even take note of the man's greeting, instead just nodding in greeting.
He cleared his throat when he noticed Frank's lack of speaking, "I'm Doctor Pelissier."
Frank nodded curtly again.
The man cleared his throat awkwardly again.
"So, detective, you're a very lucky man." He said, glancing down at his clipboard.
"Doesn't feel like it." Frank finally mumbled, sniffling quietly before wiping his nose with the hand he now realised was connected to an IV.
The man offered another sympathetic look that made Frank want to flip him off. Which he probably would have done if he hadn't been so weak minded.
"Well, you're definitely lucky in the long run," He said regardless of Frank's comment, "The stab wound in your right thigh wasn't too deep, and luckily missed any important nerves."
He flipped the page on the clipboard, "As for your bullet wound... the bullet only brushed your bone, meaning the bone isn't entirely shattered but still suffered enough damage for a nasty fracture. No severe permanent nerve damage either, your bone taking most of the impact..."
The man looked back down as Frank awaited to hear more, "You did come close to bleeding out due to the fact the bullet passed close to the femoral artery... but it looks like you dodged a bullet there."
Frank didn't laugh at the man's joke, instead glaring at him as he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Right, anyway, you're going to be fine, Detective Iero. We were able to remove the bullet and the damage to your nerves is nothing your body can't recover from. You'll be in that cast for six to eight weeks, of course with a wheelchair for the first two and crutches during the rest of that time. And it would be safer for you to continue to use them a week after you've gotten your cast taken off while you train your leg to walk again." He said, and Frank just nodded along, not really listening towards the end of what the man was saying.
He noted that he would have to be put in physical therapy once his legs were healed, and that he would be off from work for a while. That last part bummed him out the most he would have to say. What would he do at the apartment all day? He definitely didn't want to be alone for all that time, especially not with the likes of Bob, who would definitely treat him like some sort of orphaned puppy all day.
"And lastly, detective, there's a crowd of people in the waiting room for you," Frank snapped his attention back to the doctor, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "They've been here since last night."
Frank, somewhere deep down, had thought no one would really show up to his hospital room if something like this would ever happen. But... somewhere he felt a small spark of happiness and gratitude.
"Do you feel up to seeing them?" He asked, Frank nodding gently in response. He shifted a bit so he could sit up, careful not to shift his elevated legs too much.
The man disappeared, and Frank tried to keep his mind off of his earlier dark thoughts, trying to think on the positive side of things for once. He had people that were worried about him. He had people that had spent the night in the waiting room for him. Though then a thought popped into his head.
Where was Brendon?
Did he make i-
"There he is!" Frank's attention snapped to a tired Pete, a group of people he didn't even have time to truly register walking in behind him.
There were cheers between them, making Frank flinch. Immediately they quieted down.
"How're you feeling, Iero?" Ryan was the first to ask, rubbing his forearm as they all looked at Frank.
Frank looked at his legs, "Like shit."
Ryan laughed, and Frank offered them a weak, and quite strained smile.
"You were a real good cop last night," Mikey said, offering him a sympathetic look, "I know Alex got away but you risked a lot going on that call without dispatch."
Frank nodded weakly, looking down, "Where's Urie?"
"He's in a different part of the hospital." Ryan answered quietly, "I mean, Bren suffered a pretty bad stabbing but you nearly bled to death in the ambulance— like, you stopped breathing for a while and went into hypovolemic shock so they had to—"
"Ryan," Pete mumbled, elbowing him. Ryan shut up as Pete smiled at Frank again, "We're all just glad you're okay now, Iero."
Frank offered them another small smile, "Yeah, well, looks like I'll be off work for a while, huh?"
Frank wanted to see if there was still maybe a chance he wouldn't be benched, but Hurley, who had stayed silent throughout most of this, nodded.
"It's for your health, Frank. Besides, it would be good for you to take some time to organise and take care of yourself." He said gently, and Frank sighed softly with a nod.
There were a few more comments made before Mikey sat next to him, the rest of the guys engrossed in a conversation as Mikey leaned over.
"Um, I... I don't know what's really going on with you and Gerard, but," Mikey sighed as continued, "He's in the waiting room too. Figured he would wait until you saw the squad before he came to see you."
Frank swallowed thickly, nodding at Mikey's words. "You can call him in." He found himself whispering.
Mikey nodded back at him, patting his shoulder gently before getting up and walking towards the door.
Frank took a second to gather himself before he spoke, "I... I'm really grateful you guys stayed here for me but I think I want to be by myself for a bit."
Everyone looked at each other wearily but nodded, most of them leaving the room so that only Lindsey and Ray were left.
Lindsey, who had been mostly quiet, came forth first to press a kiss to his forehead, "When I said you were gonna get shot I didn't mean literally let that happen you fucking dumbass."
Frank laughed slightly at her words, making her smile weakly before following the rest of the squad out.
Ray walked close to him and sat on the seat Mikey had been sat on earlier, "That was... some real movie-cop stuff, Frank."
Ray gave him his classic smile, though it looked too pained and tearful to have its usual effect.
"I'm glad you're alright, buddy." Ray whispered, looking like he wanted to hug Frank, but restraining himself when he saw all of the IVs stuck to him.
"I'm glad I'm alright too." Frank mumbled, trying to mirror his smile the best he could.
Ray chose to pat his head instead of hugging him, making Frank let out a small laugh. Ray smiled again at the noise.
"We called Bob about what happened this morning by the way. But he was in—"
"The Berkshires, yeah I know." Frank muttered.
Ray nodded, "Yeah... but he's already on his way here and he'll come around later, okay?"
Frank nodded, and they looked towards the door when there was a soft knock. Frank already knowing it was Gerard from the hesitancy.
Ray gave him a confused look but stood up regardless. "I'll come by later, bud. Oh, and also I already bought some non-alcoholic beer for when you get outta here."
Frank laughed softly again and nodded, fist-bumping Ray's extended hand before the man left. Frank's stomach all of the sudden lurching when he caught sight of Ray's gun that had been hanging low on it's holster.
The sight of it, for some fucking reason, making a shiver run down his spine, his stiff legs aching at the action.
The sight of the gun seemed to bring back the pain; the pain that had made him wish he had just passed out the second the bullet hit him. Though it all of the sudden felt as if the bullet was still in him, as if his blood was still pouring over his pants onto the gravel, running warm through the coarse hairs of his legs. His stomach cramping, his eyes screwing shut so tight it was genuinely painful.
And Frank only opened his eyes when the door open again, his tremors stopping as he looked up to see a disheveled Gerard.
His hair was as wild as a jungle, untamable and unruly. His once stunning black locks now vaguely resembled a birds nest and his pale skin littered in blemishes. He hugged his body that was covered only by a large black sweatshirt and some flannel pants. It was clear he had come to the hospital in his pyjamas, meaning he had probably been awoken by the call about Frank.
Gerard silently sat on the stool next to him, an eerily quiet atmosphere taking over them.
Gerard was the one to break it, but not with words.
Frank heard him sniffle as he rubbed his stained face, "God, Shitero... you absolute asshole."
Frank let out a broken laugh, his throat burning as he watched Gerard wipe at his face some more.
"I leave you for a week and you go and," Gerard choked on a small noise, quickly composing himself, "Get fuckin' stabbed and shot?"
"Aren't you supposed to be good at your job?" Gerard asked as he wiped his nose, Frank weirdly finding himself smile softly at his words.
"Says the guy who doesn't even have a job." Frank said quietly, wincing loudly when he accidentally moved his legs, feeling his cheeks bloom with a rosy blush when Gerard's hand immediately flew over to his shoulder to steady him. Their eyes met briefly, but Frank looked away, trying to keep his usual blank face in check.
He had to remember that Gerard was only here to make sure he was still alive. Gerard had made it clear they could never have any sort of romantic relationship, and as much as he hated that- as much as that made him want to get shot all over again, he had to accept it.
"I do have a job," Gerard muttered around a small, weak smile, his hand slowly tracing down Frank's bare arm before it flopped back into his own lap. Frank watched him curiously, "I'm a fine arts photographer."
"I know." Frank mumbled, his own smile almost identical to Gerard's before he winced again, having accidentally hit his head on the headboard when he sat up.
"Stop wriggling so much you're gonna fucking hurt yourself." Gerard said, though his voice did drip with concern which made Frank's chest loosen up in a way it hadn't in a while.
"You mean more than I already have?" Gerard just rolled his eyes with an almost missable laugh, looking off towards the door as a silence took over them.
"You know," Gerard started quietly, his hands playing with the thin blanket draped over Frank's frame. "I... thought about what you said."
Frank looked at him expectantly, his eyes staring at him intently.
"Well, I- I'm only telling you this because you," Gerard looked down as he slowly took his hands off of Frank's blanket and placed them back in his lap, "Because you almost.."
"Don't say it." Frank said in a whisper, Gerard nodding quickly, Frank catching sight of his watery eyes.
"I don't actually think you're... that much of a prick." He mumbled, and Frank to admit he had been expecting something a lot more genuine.
He opened his mouth to say something when Gerard quietly shushed him, "Please just let me talk for a bit, okay?"
Frank nodded and stared at him blankly again.
"I'm," Gerard's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find the right words Frank assumed, "I uh, I'm not really, good at doing this. This of course being... having a normal conversation with you."
Frank smiled a little at that, Gerard clearing his throat.
"Truth is," Gerard bit his lip as he choked out the words, his mouth falling open as he got ready to spit out his next few words, "I... I actually kind of liked our whole... car-sex fiasco."
Frank stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched Gerard swallow and go back to fiddling with his fingers. His smile died faster than wisps of smoke that dissipated after a candle flame had been snuffed out
Frank's mind began racing, not really with thoughts but more with emotions. He couldn't tell if that was what he had wanted to hear all along, or if that was the very thing he had been afraid of. Of course Frank had come to terms that although he didn't like nor hate Gerard, he still did want to.. give them a shot, but now that Gerard was sat here in his hospital room, uttering the words... They felt ingenuine.
He felt as if maybe Gerard was only speaking out of pity- because he pitied the fact that Frank was on bed rest and that he nearly bled out in some random storage unit. It didn't feel like Gerard realised what it all sounded like; which was of course, pity. Frank didn't want that from him though, he wanted Gerard to want him for more than just fear that he might die. He wanted Gerard to want him for probably everything but pity.
When Frank felt that Gerard was taking too long finding the right words, he took it upon himself to speak.
"You know, saying something like that without meaning it is fucking worse than not saying it at all." Frank said, his eyes bleeding into Gerard's head that wasn't looking at his face.
"I'm not 'just saying' that, alright?" Gerard said back, though instead of his usual irritated tone he sounded a lot more pleading and quiet. Which Frank would definitely dub on the fact that he himself looked like shit and Gerard probably didn't want to strain him any more than he was already.
"But I just don't know if I can get to a place where I feel safe with someone again," Gerard mumbled, rubbing his forearm, "Especially not with someone that's as unpredictable as you are, Frank."
Frank swallowed away his hurt and instead sat up a bit straighter, "What's so unpredictable about me?"
Gerard let out a small laugh, gesturing to Frank's legs, "Frank, you got fucking shot and stabbed last night! You want me to say I was expecting something like that?"
"That's my job, that's not me." Frank corrected, staring into Gerard's only slightly reddish eyes.
"Frank, as much as you might not want to realise it right now... your job is a part of you. Especially in situations like this where you get hurt and you—"
"So, what?" Frank asked with furrowed eyebrows, choking on his own tongue that felt heavy in his mouth, "Are you telling me you can't give me a shot because my job is too dangerous for you?"
"Frank..." Gerard swallowed meekly giving Frank the exact answer he had guessed.
"Got it." Frank mumbled coldly, "Y'know, I think you should go, Gerard. I don't even know why you came here in the first place."
"Don't be like that," Gerard whispered, "Please, I just- I need a safety blanket when I'm with someone and I wanted to tell you that I actu—"
"Just fucking go, Gerard!" Frank managed to raise his voice, watching Gerard flinch.
Gerard swallowed quietly again and Frank watched as he wiped his eyes, brushing away a few stray, silver tears that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"You're so conceited." Frank whispered with squinted his eyes, feeling his hurt pile up in his heavy chest. "How fucking dare you come in here acting like this is an okay time to criticize me for my job?"
"Frank, I—"
"You think I want to be here?" Frank asked a little harsher, "You think you saying I'm an inconvenience to you will make everything okay for me again?"
"I'm- I'm sorry, okay?" As much as Gerard looked to be trying to hold it in, his frustration was more than just evident. The beads of salty tears falling down one after another without any sign of stopping, "I didn't mean to make it sound like—"
"I didn't mean to make it sound like this was all your fault." Gerard whispered, scratching at his hand like he did at that bar the night he said he had gotten into an argument.
Frank watched with unsuspecting eyes as Gerard trembled lightly, wiping his face repeatedly, "When Mikey told me you were badly hurt I-I knew you wouldn't want to see me but I was just scared, okay? I was scared for you."
Regret washed over Frank like the long slow waves on a shallow beach. He felt his chest cave in, each wave felt icy cold and sent shivers down his spine.
"Look," Frank said quietly, watching Gerard sniff and turn his head away, "I... I know it's not your fault you don't... you can't like me, but you can't just do this to me again. Especially not after I almost-"
Frank couldn't finish his sentence, his earlier feelings of fear and pain resurfacing for the first time since Gerard had walked in. He found himself feeling that same need of release, that same need to cry. But he knew that couldn't happen, especially not with Gerard in the room. Because whenever he cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound, and he didn't need Gerard there for something like that.
"Please, I can't- I can't deal with this right now. You might not realise it but every time you show up and do this, it just hurts me." Frank forced out, hoping that if he kept talking his pain would fade, "And me liking you— it's just too much for me right now, okay?"
Frank shut his eyes as he ignored the numbness in his legs and Gerard's small sniffles. Though after a few quiet moments, Gerard let out a thick laugh. Completely ruining their somber atmosphere.
"Frank, you brainless dickhead." Gerard muttered, looking in Frank's direction for the first time in the last few minutes, "If you'd actually let me finish for once you'd know that... maybe I do like you too. For some fucking reason I don't even remotely understand, maybe I'd actually like for us to... try."
Frank watched as Gerard let out a shaky breath, "But, we really shouldn't be talking about that right now."
"Why not?" Frank asked quietly.
Gerard smiled weakly at him, a smile with a twist to it, like the smile of a child who is determined not to cry.
Gerard's hand reaching over to touch Frank's cold ones. His hands having stopped trembling the moment Gerard had said that he returned his feelings, if even to a small degree.
"Because, Frank, you're probably high on pain medication right now... and you just survived a fucking traumatic experience. It's not healthy to be getting into anything right now. I feel like that would just be taking advantage of you." Gerard mumbled, brushing his thumb against the IV taped against the top of Frank's hand.
Frank stared at him, his brain stuttering for a moment as every part of him went on pause and his thoughts caught up.
His earlier words were so out of character, so far from what he knew of Gerard. All he could do was just stare at him blankly. His brain formulated no thoughts other than to register that he was shocked. He closed his mouth, then looked at his casted leg before glancing back up to catch Gerard's eyes.
"But... does that mean you would want to talk about things like that when I'm out of here?" Frank asked softly, and Gerard just sighed through his smile.
"Just focus on getting better for right now, okay?" Gerard whispered, getting up off the hospital chair.
Frank's cheek burned with a deep flush of nerves as Gerard placed a small kiss to his right cheek.
Gerard stood up straight again before grabbing his mud brown jacket, the one he had been wearing when Frank caught him taking pictures in that park.
Gerard's soft lips stretched into a smile that didn't quite reach his dark eyes. They were lit with sadness, and the forced expression of the contrary on his mouth would have looked comical to Frank if it hadn't made his heart feel heavy.
For a few moments Frank stared at him, almost sure his expression mirrored Gerard's. It broke his heart. A part of him didn't want Gerard to leave.
Frank didn't want to turn into a random image that floated in the pool of his memory. He didn't want to be the smile that squeezed his chest somewhere far away. He didn't want him to go. Frank wanted Gerard's smile to stay.
"Wait," Frank said quietly, making Gerard stop in his tracks, waiting for Frank to continue.
"Could you," Frank swallowed as he looked up into Gerard's eyes, "Could you stay with me for a bit?"
Gerard's mouth twitched, and Frank was sure he was fighting off another small smile. A real one.
//—//
jesus this chapter took a lot out of me
★ not edited ★