In The Morning

by Mandi K.

Larry let the phone drop out of his hand and it fell with a dull thud to the carpeted floor of his hotel room. He tried to pull his arm back on the bed and winced at the aching, shooting pain that ran up and down his arm, head and back. He took a deep breath and rolled over on his stomach, moaning at the pain that rocked through his body. He shifted stiffly, trying to pull the blanket out from under him before he realized that the blanket wasn't under him, but on the otherside of the bed. He then assumed it must be his tee-shirt bunching under him and causing the pinching he felt on his stomach, but he vaguely remembered that he'd taken off the his shirt hours ago because it had hurt too much to have it on. He finally understood with a soft whimper that it was just another pinching pain inside him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

When was the last time I was this sick? Have I ever been this sick?

He'd already taken three Tylenols and a truckload of sinus medication. Until he saw a doctor, there was nothing he could do to better his situation.
He closed his eyes, his head throbbing from the sound of the phone's dial tone on the floor, but his body was too achy to possibly pick it up and put it back on the receiver. A lurch in his stomach made Larry shoot up in bed and he groaned from the nauseated feeling and the hurt running through his body, all at the same time.

I really am dying... this must be what dying feels like. Just kill me already... anything's better than this...

Blue eyes squeezed tightly closed, a brow furrowed in agony and he feel asleep with pain-filled tears slowly streaming down his face.

"God, you weren't kidding."
A hand painfully brushed his forehead and he moaned, lifting his arm to bat the hand away and then cringing at the worse hurt that caused. He tried to open his eyes unsuccessfully and he could tell by the swollen feeling in his throat that there was no way he could possibly speak... at least not without major irritation, although that seemed almost too pleasant a word for what he was feeling right now.

This is the oddest experience of my life. I can't speak, see or feel without pain. I hope this person is someone I know, or I'm screwed. And shouldn't I feel better after sleep? I feel ten times worse...

"You really are sick... can't remember seeing you like this in sometime, huh?"
He knew that voice. He tried to say "Bono", but the word got caught in his throat and he coughed uncontrollably, which caused once more for pain to sting the back of his head.
"Aw, mate... Jesus. You're burning up but your hands are freezing cold. You look awful... "

That's what I was trying to TELL you, moron.

"I'm wondering if I shouldn't take you to the emergency room."

You try to move me from this bed... you try to TOUCH me, and as soon as I'm better, I'll kill you...

He felt the pressure of someone sitting down next to him on the bed, felt the slight ache of even that minor movement, and then a hand grasping his. Despite how much pain reeled through his body, he couldn't pull away and neither did he want to. First off, it would have hurt even more to wriggle his hand free and second, he had to admit it was nice to have someone else feeling sorry for him too. As one hand held his comfortingly, another rubbed it and Larry had to fight himself not to recoil violently.
"Please... " he managed to choke out. "Don't pat my hand... hurts."
"Oh, sorry." Bono replied, holding the hand limply. "Even that hurts, huh? What else?"
"No more talking. Hurts." Larry croaked, still struggling to get his eyes open.
"... Larry, you're scaring me... I'm this close to taking you to a hospital."
"You move me and I'll kill you." Larry spat, ignoring the hurt that caused.
"That much pain... ? Well, I'm going to stay with you." Bono said decisively. "If you get any worse I want to be here to call an ambulance."

AMBULANCE? Goddamn Bono... you sure know how to scare the shit out a person. If the fans hear I'm in a hospital...

"No. No hospital." Larry finally pried his eyes open. "Don't move me."
"Larry, I've never seen someone this ill who didn't have something terminal."
Larry frowned, closing his eyes again. "Don't know when to shut up, do you?"
"Alright, sorry, just stop talking. It sounds like you're scratching your throat out doing it. Maybe I should call Edge or something... "
"Bono... "
"Okay, just relax. I'm sorry I even woke you up, but... Larry, I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
Larry shook his head as a way of telling him not to worry about it. Bono sighed loudly.
"No, really... I should have known you wouldn't lie about that... although, you haven't been excited about our shows, that's for sure."
"Oh... and you have?" Larry whispered, followed by a cough.
"No, not at all, you're right. I should fake illness, too."
Larry gave Bono an angry scowl and Bono back tracked.
"Er, I mean, what I meant was... " Bono stopped. "You really don't like what U2 has become do you?"
Larry paused a moment before shaking his head carefully, trying to avoid any pain. Bono nodded, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp. Larry snatched his hand and groaned incoherently.
"Oh, right... headache, I'm assuming? Yeah, light wouldn't help would it?"
"Not really." Larry said, though he was sure it didn't come out as anything articulate.
"I wish you could talk... I've been meaning to talk to you about... the band."
Larry's eyes snapped open. "Why?"
"Don't talk, Larry, you sound like absolute shit... "
"Why?" Larry insisted.
"Well... I mean, if this is what U2 is to be, then... do you want to keep going?"
Larry sighed. "... We fucked ourselves with Rattle And Hum."
"It's a good album."
"I'm not... saying it... isn't. I'm just... "
"We can talk about this later when you can actually speak without pain."
"No, now." Larry snapped. "I don't like what U2 has become. If this is where we're going, I'm done."
"Done? You mean quit?"
"Yes."
"Larry... if you quit, the band is through. You know that, right? You started this whole thing, none of us would be willing to go on without you."
"I'm sick of doing this. Work everyday." Larry sat up slowly, gritting his teeth. "Look, Bono... it's a job. It's not fun anymore. The magic isn't enough anymore... the music could put me to sleep... and I'm sure I'd be able to play it in my sleep as well."
"Yeah... but... "
"Who are you trying to kid, Bono? I could be dying of a terminal illness, as you so brilliantly put it, and no one would care. Those people would still expect me to play, you know that." He said softly, trying to be as gentle as possible with his raw throat. "It's not about learning something, or feeling something anymore... for them, it's about being able to say they went to a U2 concert coz it will make them cool. There's only those few fans out there who we really connect with... don't tell me you haven't felt that vacant thing with the crowds. And I just won't do it any-" Larry was cut off as a tickle in his throat manifested into a violent coughing fit.
Bono's face filled with worry, though Larry couldn't see the look through the darkness of the room, and he clutched Larry's hand tighter, his other arm slinging carefully over Larry's heaving shoulders. Finally, the fit passed and Larry whimpered, leaning back against Bono's arm.
"All I'm saying is... we failed on certain things. We're failing to connect with our crowds, we failed to plug into the world of other artists like we hoped we could and we failed to touch anything really new for us. And now we're not even getting anything out of the shows. I'm actually tired of doing this." Larry finished wearily.
Bono was silent, the only noise in the room being Larry's faint wheezing. Bono frowned at the feeling of Larry's heavy breaths and also the realization of the words Larry had just overexerted himself saying.

He's right, I know that. He's been feeling everything I have; I just don't have the balls to admit it like he does.

"Bono... " Larry finally whispered. "I think it's the schedule and the situation that made me sick like this. I'm over worked and I'm miserable. I've only gotten five hours of sleep this whole week. I've had three colds in the last two months and I now I have a flu... it's not even that I don't want to do this anymore, even though I don't... it's that I don't think I can... it's killing me, Bono."
Bono's arm stiffened against Larry's back. "... I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, I'm just... " Larry paused, wincing. "Damn, my throat... "
"I understand what you mean. I hear what you're saying. You're right. Emotionally, physically, mentally, socially... this is too much, and musically, none of us are real happy. We've got to make a major change."
"... Do you think we'll make it?" Larry asked, putting all his weight on Bono's sturdy arm.
Bono didn't reply, reaching over and picking up a glass off the nightstand. He thrust it toward Larry and Larry took it before realizing what it was.
"God, no... please don't make me swallow anything... no water, please." Larry begged quietly when he looked in the glass, pushing it back into Bono's hand. Bono watched him closely, wondering how bad off he really was. Larry stared back at him, realizing with vague amusement that he could feel Bono, but could only see his outline and his clear blue eyes that not even the dark could veil.
"I'm worried." Bono said, putting the glass back on the nightstand.
"I'll be okay. I just need sleep." Larry insisted.
"... I'm still worried."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want to stay here in case you get worse. I promise I won't keep you up or anything. I just want to watch you."
"... Alright... just... gimme a minute." Larry tried to move off to one side of the bed, but struggled with a sudden dizziness. The whole room was spinning under him and he could barely hold on...
Instantly he felt a firm arm around his waist and another hand helping to hold him up by his arm. Though the contact caused a blazing pain to race through his body, the steadiness of someone holding him up straight and helping him to lay down made the room stop spinning and he finally collapsed on the opposite side of the bed, his best friend's arm still wrapped around him. He wiggled up a little, allowing Bono to pull his arm away, and then settled back on the bed with a low moan.
"Oh... Goddammit." Larry swore softly. Finally the ache of movement subsided and he looked up at Bono, who was still hanging worriedly over him. "Is this what they do in the old folks' homes?"
"I'm thinking." Bono smiled back through the pitch dark.
"... Thanks." Larry mumbled, a wave of exhaustion flowing over him.
"That's why I'm here in the first place." Bono replied gently.
"... You're the best friend I've ever had." Larry said suddenly.
Bono's eyes widened a little, though of course Larry couldn't see this, and a grin crossed his face. "You mean that?"
"Are you trying to tell me you don't believe me again?" Larry scowled. "I was right about being sick, wasn't I?"
"Alright, alright." Bono laughed a little, carefully crawling over to the other side of the bed so as not to cause Larry anymore unnecessary pain. "I believe you... I just never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth."
"Oh, come off it." Larry muttered tiredly and with a cantankerous edge. "You know you're the big brother I never had... but I'll say what I'm not sure you do know. I appreciate it. And you and Adam and Edge are one of the things I thank God everyday for blessing me with." Larry paused and then chuckled weakly. "I mean, look at me! I'm in pain like you wouldn't believe, positively miserable and... you're here for me. That means more to me even than the band. So even if we don't make it out of the eighties as a band... you're always gonna be my friend, right?"
"... Of course I will." Bono said in a low voice. "And so will Edge and Adam. You're a good friend too, you know."
"Sometimes I wonder... " Larry trailed off, falling asleep for a split second before snapping back to consciousness. "You're staying right?" He slowly rolled over toward Bono in the darkness.
Bono nodded, pulling the blanket Larry had kicked off sometime ago over him. "I'm not going anywhere, mate."
Larry sighed, as if relieved despite all his protest, and closed his eyes. "... One last thing."
"What Lawrence?" Bono asked quietly, once again watching Larry through the darkness.
"You do know that I could get on in my life without you, right Bono Vox?" Larry said with a tinge of humor in his ragged voice. Bono froze.

Well, that's a bit... mean to say. After all I'm doing for him right now...

"Of course, Lardence." Bono replied, his voice sounding a bit confused and more than a bit hurt.
"... I could... but it'd be a hell of a lot harder." Larry finished softly before drifting off into slow unconsciousness.
He said it so softly that Bono didn't hear him. Bono sighed to himself, dismayed that he'd actually believed for a moment his friend had opened up and said something full with gratitude and compassion, and rolled over.

I don't think he heard me. Larry thought vaguely. I'll tell him again in the morning. I need to sleep now... In the morning, I'll tell him...

Bono glanced over at Larry, asleep, though he was flinching and tossing slightly as if stuck in a bad dream. Bono sat up, still watching Larry, and let out another sigh.
"You're such an arse sometimes." Bono whispered, knowing Larry couldn't hear him. "But we love you anyway... "
Bono shook his head, kicking the blanket off him. Larry cringed from next to him, his mind still racing with thoughts in an uneasy sleep.
In the morning I'll tell him everything... it's time to tell him everything... what they all mean to me... in the morning... I'm so sick, I need sleep now... in the morning...

When Larry woke up again, Bono was gone.

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