I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

C

The next morning, Frank woke up when it was still dark. Gerard wasn't in bed, and Frank was immediately worried. "Gerard?" He asked, barely sitting up. There was no answer, the bathroom light wasn't on, so Frank grunted and got out of bed to find him. He walked downstairs and smelt food, saw the kitchen light on, and faintly heard music playing. Gerard was awake.

Frank entered the kitchen to the sight of Gerard holding a frying pan over the stove top, cooking breakfast. He seemed happy. Frank's heart swelled.

"Good morning, Gee," Frank snuck up. He tucked an arm around Gerard's waist and kissed his cheek.

"Good morning," Gerard replied.

"What're you making? It smells good." Frank rested his chin on Gerard's shoulder to look at the food in the pan.

"Well," Gerard chuckled, "you weren't supposed to wake up yet. I was gonna make you breakfast in bed, but . . . It's gonna be some French toast and omlettes with bacon."

"Sounds good," he muttered. "So, you're doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." He slipped out of Frank's arms to grab plates out of a top cabinet. Frank helped him, afraid they would be too heavy for him. Gerard thanked him and dished up the food. He handed Frank a plate and he walked back to the table.

Gerard smiled and laughed with Frank, and he even ate a normal-sized portion of breakfast. Frank was relieved that Gerard was taking care of himself, seemed to have a surge of strength. Frank was hopeful that Gerard was right, the only thing that could happen would be Gerard getting better. They didn't even talk about Gerard being sick.

It was a good day.

Gerard kept trying to dote upon Frank, wanting to make him food and watch whatever movies he wanted. He played with Frank's hair, making it stick up in ridiculous ways. He kissed Frank, more than usual, whenever there was a silence or Frank was facing him. Frank didn't want to think about what it meant, and kissed back, thanking Gerard for everything.

The next day was a dramatic opposite. Gerard couldn't get out of bed, but couldn't get comfortable, either. Frank gave him painkillers on schedule, though the did nothing for the pain—Gerard said they made him tried, but it was okay, because he didn't feel anything while he slept. Frank nodded, and Gerard dozed on and off all day. Frank woke him so he could eat some soup. "Frank? What is it?" Gerard asked sleepily, eyes not opening all the way.

"Hey, I made you some soup. Are you hungry?"

"I'm tired," Gerard said.

"I know, I know. But will you eat something for me?"

"I guess," Gerard groaned. He sat up on his elbows, looking at Frank to see he was already holding a bowl of soup, looking at Gerard hopefully. Gerard struggled to sit up against the headboard, and he closed his eyes for a few breaths. He took the bowl Frank passed to him with shaking hands, and his arms started shaking from the effort of holding the bowl. With the fear that Gerard was going to spill hot soup all over himself, Frank took the bowl back so he could relax. Frank set the bowl down on the nightstand and climbed in bed. He sat behind Gerard, leaning against the headboard so Gerard could rest against his chest, sat between Frank's legs.

Frank picked up the bowl of soup and held it in front of Gerard, his arms wrapped around his waist. Looking over Gerard's shoulder, Frank brought a spoonful of broth to Gerard's lips and said, "Open up."

"Really, Frank? And I thought you just wanted to cuddle," Gerard protested, but let Frank hand-feed him anyway. Frank could tell Gerard relaxed, as he barely had to move, barely had to stay awake. Gerard finished it, and simply wanted to drift back off afterwards.