I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

Nurses and Naps

"Gerard. Gerard, I'm right here, wake up. It's okay, you're alright," Frank soothed, trying to wake him from the feverish haze he was in. "Come on, you've got to get up, Gerard..."

"Frank...no, come back..." Gerard mumbled.

"Hey, you're dreaming." He smoothed Gerard's hair back, and when that didn't wake him up, he pulled all the covers off him. Still out of it, Gerard reached for them. He woke all the way up, looking irritated and annoyed. He saw Frank over him and the corners of his lips turned up. "There you are," Frank said. "It's time to get up."

"Oh. Okay." Gerard stood up, trembling.

"Fuck, everything is achy." He limped to take a shower, hurrying without Frank even telling what time it was.

Gerard didn't bother with doing anything with his hair, and pulled on the first clothes he could find. He had dark circles around his eyes, his eyelids seeming shadowed as they drooped halfway over his pupils. The rest of his face was stark white, even his lips a paler shade than usual. Frank didn't make Gerard eat anything when he said he wasn't hungry.

Frank drove Gerard to the doctor, where Gerard said, "You don't have to come in with me if you don't want to." Frank, of course, wasn't going to leave Gerard all by himself when he was that sick, and went in with him.

Gerard was in a lot of pain by the time the doctors would see him. He couldn't sit still in his chair, saying that it felt like it was bruising his legs. Frank discreetly rubbed Gerard's hip under the fabric of his shirt, trying to ease him, distract him from the pain. Gerard's breath hitched. "Frank," he said, "that hurts." He put his hand over Frank's on his hip, and Frank stopped his movements.

"Oh. Sorry." He laced his fingers with Gerard's instead.

"It's okay," Gerard assured. He gave Frank a weak smile, resting his head on Frank's shoulder next to him.

A nurse called him back - "G-gerard Way?" she said, pronouncing his name weirdly. Frank followed closely behind him. They took his weight and height before being lead into a private room. Gerard hopped up on the paper covered bed, and Frank sat in the chair across the small room from him. Gerard swung his legs, waiting.

"I hope they hurry up," Gerard said, and he rubbed his eyes. "I want to go back home."

"It won't be too long," Frank said, although he didn't know that for sure.

Fifteen more minutes passed of Gerard trying not to think about the pain in his body, and Frank talking to him as a distraction. The doctor came in, starting with, "So, what's going on?"

"I just generally feel awful,"Gerard said.

"Running a fever?" She asked.

"I think so."

She took his temperature. "A hundred two point one . . . that's pretty high. How long have you been feeling like this?"

"About two weeks."

The doctor was writing fast, talking quickly, seeming to be in a rush. "Pain? On a scale of one to ten?"

"Uh - a seven?"

"Okay . . . Body aches? Nausea? What's been happening?"

"Yeah, body aches, nausea. My throat hurts. I've been having a hard time breathing."

"Let's take your blood pressure . . ." She grabbed the black cuff and cord off the wall, and Gerard rolled up his sleeves to reveal his arm. The cuff was wrapped around his arm, and as it started pumping tighter,Gerard winced in pain. His skin was already hurting beforehand, but it felt like getting punched over and over as it tightened. His arm was getting crushed, he was sure, and Frank was worried about it. Frank met Gerard's eyes, watching Gerard fight to keep them from squeezing shut in pain. Frank mouthed the words, "Love you," to him, a distraction; protection.