Frank had Gerard propped up against him. Gerard sat on his lap, leaning back against his husband with his head back against Frank's shoulder.
Frank was helping him eat ice chips, that's all he could handle today.
Today was a very bad day and Frank was very scared.
"Frank..." Gerard's barely audible voice was heard.
"Yeah, honey?" Frank set the cup of ice to the side.
"Love you." His words were sluggish and uncertain, but they meant the world to the guitarist.
"I love you too." He kissed Gerard's cheek.
He continued to help his husband, bringing small spoonfuls of shredded ice to his lips. The lights were dim and soft music played from the movie they were watching.
Some days, Gerard could jar his mouth open enough to let Frank feed him the bits of ice. Some days he couldn't talk or move or think.
He was limp against his husband, the tumor leaving him hardly conscious on even the best of days.
Mikey opened the door. "Hey, Gee. It's Mikey, I'm here with Ray."
Gerard glanced at him with hazy eyes.
Mikey let himself in, Ray following.
The weaker buried his face in the crook of Frank's neck, feeling Mikey hold his hand.
"How's he been?" Ray asked.
"Not so good." Frank sighed. "He can talk today, he's just being stubborn."
Gerard groaned, shifting slightly.
"C'mon, honey. You're okay. Ray's here to see you, c'mon." Frank spoke gently, sitting up so Gerard sat up as well.
Gerard turned his head to face out from Frank's neck and glanced at his friend with half lidded eyes. "Ray..."
"Hey, Gee." Ray smiled.
Soon they were all telling 'remember when' stories, though Gerard's fading memory in fact didn't remember.
Gerard fell asleep.
The inevitable question was asked. "How long?"
"A week or two, tops."
Gerard was carried onstage by Frank. He was too sick to walk but still wanted to perform.
He was carefully set in a chair, Frank brushing the hair from his face.
Gerard just looked weakly up at Frank. Frank realized this would be their last show because Gerard obviously couldn't remember where he was or what he was supposed to do.
"You okay?" Frank whispered.
Gerard pawed at Frank's chest with weak, frail hands.
"Sorry, guys, give us a second." He spoke into the microphone before kneeling by his husband.
"Gerard." He whispered.
Gerard stared at the crowd with a confused look.
"Gerard, look at me." Frank softly turned Gerard's head to face him.
"Frank..." He bit his lip.
"Can you perform?"
Gerard's eyes flooded with realization. "Oh shit, we're on stage. Fuck."
"It's okay." Frank kissed him before walking away.
"Hey, guys. Sorry, forgot where I was for a second." He laughed dryly. "Anyway..."
Halfway through the concert, Gerard stopped singing.
Frank walked over, kneeling. "Gerard."
Gerard dropped the microphone in his shaking hands.
"Hey." Frank picked it up. "Can you finish the show?"
Gerard looked lost. He started to cry, covering his face with his hands.
"Shh, it's okay." He kissed Gerard's cheek. "Sorry. Gerard's not feeling well, we can't finish the show."
"Frank." He whispered in a weak voice.
"I'm right here, honey."
"I don't feel good." He sniffed. "I don't know where I am and my head hurts. Wanna go home."
"I know, honey. C'mon. Let's go home." Frank lifted him up, carrying him off stage without another word.
