I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

Calls and Crying

After weeks upon weeks of Gerard being mysteriously ill, the final diagnosis was confirmed. Frank and Gerard were sitting together in a hospital waiting room, Gerard's fingers tight between Frank's. Frank was staying protectively close, just in case something were to happen to Gerard again. They were both tense, too tense to try and calm each other. Things had gotten more serious since Gerard fainted - he woke up in the hospital confused and dizzy. Frank would never forget the relief he felt when Gerardopened his eyes, groan escaping his lips as he'd gathered the strength to sit up.

Gerard was allowed to change into regular clothes for the appointment, to receive the paperwork for whatever the results were, talk it over. Naturally both Frank and Gerard were nervous but anxious to find out why Gerard was so sick, and what it was.

The doctor herself, in her white scrubs and coat, came out to the waiting room to get Gerard. Frank stayed with Gerard, his arm around Gerard's shoulders and Gerard's around his waist. Gerard had been weak, having a hard time walking ever since he fainted. He tripped often and had to use walls or furniture for support if he didn't have Frank to help him. Gerard sat down on the bed-table in the private room, slightly winded and trying to make the room stop spinning. The doctor sat on the stool, leveled with Gerard.

"So," she started,"we have the results from the tests."

Gerard nodded expectantly, fidgeting with the fabric around his knees.

"Most of the runs showed everything negative, but the bone marrow showed up leukemia positive. More specifically, adult acute myeloid leukemia." There was a period of complete silence, in which neither Gerard nor Frank moved, only stared at the doctor. "Uh, you're probably wondering what this all means for you . . ." she said, looking for any reaction from Gerard. Gerard flicked his eyes up at her for a short moment. She flipped her black hair back, looked up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to tell you this. We... do not have many options. Um.... t-the leukemia has spread to your nervous system, because it wasn't caught and treated earlier." She stopped to glance behind her at Frank. "So this is a lot of information right now, I should probably slow down." When she stopped talking it remained silent in the room again. She looked at the paperwork in her hands. "The reason you've been bruising so much; fainting, is because your blood cells aren't working or producing how they're supposed to. Your antibiotics haven't been working, correct?" Gerard nodded stiffly. "We need to cancel those, all you're going to get from them are the side effects." Gerard stared blankly at her. She looked slightly intimidated by it. "I will be honest with you," she said grimly. "The leukemia is in a very . . . late stage, you've had this disease for a long time. The common treatment options—chemo, radiation therapy, surgeries—would not be beneficial to you at this point. They would make quality of living worse." She remained holding eye contact with Gerard, looking genuinely upset.

Gerard's eyebrows furrowed as he comprehended more of what she was saying, and he looked off to the side. Frank didn't dare to speak before Gerard did. "I have leukemia," he repeated, slowly, shakily. "It's late stage," he said after a few seconds. "No treatment at all?" He asked unsurely. The doctor nodded her confirmation. "Am I dying?" He said, voice suddenly quieter.

The doctor gulped. "With no treatment options, the cancer will only progress. I'm sorry, Mr. Way."

Gerard pursed his lips in an attempt to stay composed. "How—how long?" He stuttered out.

"Anywhere from one to three months," she said.

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?" Frank cut in, voice dripping with desperation. "We can go somewhere else for help, pay as much as—"

The doctor held up her hand to stop him. "Don't waste your money and time. Doctors everywhere are trying to find a cure; the highest ranked institutes aren't anywhere ahead of us."