October 6th 1988

"Ugh," I'm so bored. All I can do is sit here, check out (ugly) nurses, and watch one of five channels on the small television in the corner of my room. CNN, Family, ABC, the home channel, and something with nuns on it. Middlesex really doesn't spare it's luxury, does it?

I turn on the TV, and switch it from nuns, to ABC. Richie Rich is on, I hate this show, but whatever, Scooby doesn't come on until around eight, and by then I'm conked out on pain meds. I lean back and take a sip from the cup of water they gave me. There's too much ice in it, and my teeth ache.

Two days ago, my friend Frank visited me I smile, thinking about it. He looked so… normal, not menacing like he usually does. He actually sounded caring and concerned, not wispy and evil. He's perfect now, with both eyes. He doesn't remember any of that, thank God. I don't think that he'd talk to me ever again if he found out. I wouldn't blame him, it was a horrible thing to do in the heat of the moment. I need to think before I do something. Especially with a gun.

I don't know why, but I really want to talk to him more. It's like that feeling you get when you meet someone really great, and you never want to stop talking to them. My heart hurts every time I think about that confused expression he gave me, his sad eyes, his hand gently resting on mine… No. Stop, Donnie. But I don't. I smile wider and keep thinking about that day. I know I shouldn't, because he's untouchable. Completely straight, and with my sister. It's sick, you're disgusting Donnie. I know I am, but he makes me sick like this. He always did. Him, and his perfect smile, deep voice, and soft hair that hangs just past his chin. I'm not going to stop, thinking about him gives me the best feeling in the world. It might be mean to myself, but just the thought of him makes me get the chills.

Someone knocks on the door, and I'm pushed out of my stupor. I lick the drool off of my lips; when I'm focusing on something I forget to do even the simplest of motor functions. I flick the TV off, snuggle into my covers, and try to appear as ill as possible. "Come in," I croak, innocently.

It's Frank, bringing me my school work. We've agreed that he'll bring it to me every two days, and tutor me on what I've missed. He smiles brightly at me, struggling to carry both backpacks through the small doorway. The doctors say that I'll be in for about two weeks, that's… five visits. I slouch over at this realization. "Hey, will you still see me after I'm better?" I ask, quietly from behind the sheet draped over my mouth.

He blinks, stopping halfway in the doorway. "What kind of question is that? I'm not even in your room yet, and you miss me?" He chuckles, "I must be really good." Frank brushes his shoulder off after putting the bags down.

"Don't flatter yourself," I blush, "I'm just…"

"Being clingy?" I fake laugh at his joke. He smirks at me, and gets my books out of my bag. He drops them on the side table, and sends my cup of water flying. It crashes on my crotch, spilling all over the place. "Oops." he deadpans.

"Frank…" I look down, and then back up at him, "I'm going to kill you." I lunge at his neck with two open hands. He grabs them and squeezes, hard.

"Whoa, killer!" he laughs harder, "I'll fix it, I'll fix it!" the brunette lets go of my hands and runs out to get me a change of clothes, and probably bed sheets. Fucking bunny-man… Ugh, it's so damp.

I'd never actually choke Frank, but this is really embarrassing. I mean, it looks like I pissed myself, and my bed is soaked. I have to sleep on this, you know! I may be really monotone, but I have a shitty temper.

"Ug," I try to get out of bed. My stitches hurt like hell, and even the smallest amount of movement from the waist up sends searing pain through my lung. "fuck Frank." I mumble. Getting far enough on the bed, I swing my legs over the side and try to steady myself. I haven't actually stood up on my own yet, so I have some trouble trying to balance on both feet. I push myself one inch off of the bed before falling back. I try again and make it about halfway up before Frank comes in, running to my side. "I can do it myself." I whine.

"My ass you can do it yourself." he sets my down in the beige chair next to my bed. "Oh, Donnie…" he frowns, "Your stitches are bleeding." he grabs a paper towel, wets it, and hands it to me. I undo my gown from the top and he winces, seeing the stitching in my skin for the first time. I dab at the blood lightly. "What were you thinking!" I freeze.

'What were you guys doing in the middle of the road? What were you thinking!'

I blink, and look up at him. "I'm sorry." My vision blurs with tears, "I'm so-s-sorry." My shoulders start to shake horribly. "Frank, I'm so sorry."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on." he puts his hand out, afraid to touch me, "Come on man, I didn't mean to yell at you. Don't cry, Donnie? Donnie, come on." he pats my back. I lean into his chest and he starts to rub his hand in a circle. "Everything's okay." he shushes me, "I'll still protect you."

I laugh into his shirt, "O-okay."

"Okay? Cool?" he leans back and looks at me, "You're so young… how can someone so young be so troubled?" I shrug.

"Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood." I smirk, and wipe my chin of tears.

"…what?"

"Gretchen told me something like that once." I offer. "I think I understand what she means now." he takes this in for a moment, and then looks me straight in the eyes.

"Donnie…" he hesitates, "you're soaking wet," he laughs a little bit, and ruffles my hair, "change, okay?" I nod. He hands me the new gown and I ask him for a pair of fresh boxers from my suitcase. He does as told and turns around so I can have some privacy. I undress quietly, and as fast as possible as you can in a chair. It's difficult, but I get halfway without help.

"Uh, can I have some help with tying this?" he glances over his shoulder, and seeing that I'm decent, turns around to aid me. He holds up the garment and I slip my arms through the holes, "Ugh. These things are so annoying. They feel like paper." he grunts, sympathizing, and ties it in the back.

"There you go, kiddo." he pats my shoulder, "You want me to do your sheets?"

"Sure, if you want." he smiles and gets to it, "Hey, can you hand me my vicodin?" he tosses me my pills and I pop two in my mouth. "Thanks." he takes them from me and sets them back down on my table. "Sorry if I start to act weird, they get me really whacky."

"More than you are already? Oh joy." he spreads my top sheet on and claps his hands together, "Done!" Frank turns towards me, proudly smiling. "Now… it's about five. Let's watch something for about an hour, and then I'll let you go to sleep, alright?" God, why is he so nice to me. Maybe it's just because I'm Liz's little brother. Seeing my expression, the tan boy leans down to look me in the eyes. "You okay? Is something wrong?" he helps me back into bed, I wobble a little bit on the way, but I get situated eventually. I put the cover back over my mouth and chew on it.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I close my eyes, waiting for an answer. He gulps, and rubs his hands on his jeans. I can tell that I've put him in an awkward position.

"You're a good kid, Donnie. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. You saved my life, didn't you?" No. Yes, I don't know. "You saved everyone. I mean, you're a hero. Just…"

"No one knows it, right?" I take a quick look at him, he's staring intensely at me. Those deep brown eyes… he blinks and lays on the bed next to me.

"You deserve recognition that no one seems to be giving you. And… I think there's something between us that is just making me want you to be happy." He looks at the ceiling, "Is that weird?"

"N…no. I want you to be happy, too." I uncover my mouth and scoot over, giving him more room. He takes it gladly, and puts his arm around my shoulder. I shiver.

"I am happy." he smirks at me, and grabs the remote. "Now, what do you want to watch?" his hair flips over his shoulder and he turns the TV on. I don't buy it, but I chuckle at him and think.

"How about… Married with Children?" I laugh, he won't get the joke, but the least I can do is try to jog his memory. I always felt like he was watching me, even if I couldn't see him with my own eyes. He makes a face at me, and doesn't change the channel. It'll come on in a few minutes. I sigh, and lean my head into his shoulder, getting sleepy. The meds are kicking in. "You have a nice face." I giggle.

"You're high, Donnie." he pats my head.

"No, well, yeah, but I still like your face. You're pretty." he looks down at me for a second, and then back at the screen as the show comes on. "Do you think you and Liz will get married?"

"…" he thinks, "No," Frank mumbles, "your sister is great and everything, but she's not someone that I have a really good connection with. You know?" Christina Applegate walks on screen and I stifle a laugh.

"She's such a fuckass." I grab his hand from my head and wrap his arm around me, "Well, if you two don't work out, I call dibs."

"I…What's a fuckass?"