I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

Pills and Stages

Gerard hated to worry Frank, and he knew Frank would be worried.  It wasn't unusual for Gerard to get some type of sickness during the last month of a long tour—it just hadn't lasted two whole weeks before. Frank knew he had a cold, Gerard was keeping his distance in case he was contagious, but Frank had no idea how bad Gerard was really feeling.  He was pushing himself to finish the tour and not cancel any shows, but that seemed to make it worse.  It was getting harder to get onstage every night, hit all the high notes, and then act like he was doing okay around everyone else.  He wanted to go home, get some normal rest, and he was convinced that would be all he needed to feel better.

"Are you drinking enough water?" Frank asked him, only vaguely concerned.

"I could drink more, I guess," Gerard said.  They were about to go onstage, the third to last show of tour.

"Feel better," Frank demanded, smiling for a split second before he had to go onstage.

Gerard was feeling way worse than usual.  The bright stage lights were seeming to spot his vision, making him dizzy.  The high notes were a daunting task to him, and his voice cracked in both 'Dead!,' and 'Welcome To The Black Parade'. Nausea hit him hard, head throbbing.

Later, Ray would tell Gerard he was lucky he made it through the show—he had been swaying on his feet from dizziness in front of Frank.  He locked eyes with Frank, looking miserable.

After the show, he sprinted offstage to vomit in the dressing room bathroom. Mikey chased after him, leaving Ray, Bob, and Frank having no idea where they went. Frank immediately started searching for them, knowing Gerard wasn't feeling well. Frank found them quickly, Gerard hunched over the toilet bowl. Mikey was there, and as Frank walked in, Mikey was saying, "You need to go to a doctor.  Do you want me to go get—" He noticed Frank in the doorway.  "—Frank . . ."

"What happened?" Frank asked, moving closer to Gerard. Gerard turned around, his face having lost all color, hair stuck to his forehead.

"I'm sick," Gerard said.

"I know, but, I thought you were feeling better," Frank said.

Gerard shook his head, turned around, and promptly threw up again. Mikey left Frank to be alone with Gerard, attempting to comfort him.  "Gerard, what can I do?  What—what do you need?"

Gerard leaned towards Frank, and piteously said, "Take me home."

"Okay, okay."

<<<<<>>>>>

They did go home, the next day, just as Gerard wanted, needed. Frank tried to take care of him for a day, before they went to the doctor, doing anything to make him feel better.  He covered Gerard in blankets, making him lay on the couch all day, drink water, sleep. Gerard wasn't getting any better, nothing was helping, though he told Frank it was. Frank went out to buy soup and painkillers, rushing because he didn't want to leave Gerard alone and miserable for long.

When he walked in the front door with his grocery bags, a wave of heat hit him, the couch was empty, and the blankets were thrown back. Gerard was nowhere to be found. Frank dropped the grocery bags, calling Gerard's name once.  There was no answer, and Frank started looking through the house.  There wasn't any noise, no water running, or Gerard's coughing as he'd become familiar with hearing almost constantly.  "Hello? Gerard?"

Gerard had fallen asleep, curled up against the bathroom wall, after another session of throwing up.

"Gerard," Frank said again, gently shaking his shoulder.  Blearily, Gerard opened his eyes, looking at Frank, and then around the room.  "Hey, you should go to bed," Frank told him, voice quiet.