I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

Giving up

A/N: There is a lot of crying in this chapter :)

A month and a week had passed since Gerard's diagnosis. Frank hadn't spent a night outside the hospital in equally as long. He felt worn thin, horribly exhausted. He had to admit he was grateful beyond belief for the people who came to visit, just so he and Gerard didn't get cabin fever and start snapping at each other. They were bound to get annoyed with each other at times, after being enclosed together for such a long time. The couple occasionally had minor disagreements, but Frank somehow managed to keep them from fighting. They didn't need that, not with everything else going on.

Frank felt like most days were spent in some sort of uncomfortable haze, from the environment of a hospital to how often he and Gerard sat in silence. Frank's sleep wasn't relieving or refreshing, only a minimal amount, necessary for his survival. A couple weeks passed with nothing at all, no outbursts of emotion, just a dull buzzing inside Frank like an outdated fluorescent light—he was aware, but numbed with tiredness.

Gerard was sickly. Terminally ill. That's all there was to him. He was thinner than Frank could have ever imagined, and his skin was completely white, yellowing with sickness. Frank couldn't think about it too much, or it hurt to wrap his mind around. He tried to avoid facing his worries head on.

Frank was on his fifth cup of coffee one morning, eyelids feeling particularly heavy, when Mikey knocked on the open door of the hospital room. Mikey had brought Gerard a container of cupcakes. Gerard was appreciative, and opened the packaging up to bite into one. They smelled sweet, and Frank closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over the warm mug of coffee.

Gerard finished the first one, the look on his face thanking Mikey more than his words could. He held open the lid, and looked to Frank, eyes lingering on his coffee for a moment. "Frankie," he mouthed, but his voice was only a rasp. He cleared his throat to try again. "Frankie, do you want one?" He offered, but his voice was wispy, a wheezing sound, like he had a cold and was losing it. His eyebrows furrowed, and he reached up to grasp his throat. "My voice is dying," he said, just as broken.

It was hopeless if Gerard's talking voice was damaged and gone by itself. Frank closed his eyes, and felt his throat close up at Gerard trying to cough his voice back into place. Frank couldn't find the strength or energy to hold himself together, quietly sobbing in his corner.

He couldn't handle how much he had to watch Gerard suffer and not be able to do anything to help him.

It was silent in the room aside from Frank crying, and he knew both Gerard and Mikey were staring at him. "Frank, let's go outside. Let's talk for a minute," Mikey said. Frank sniffled and followed Mikey outside.

Frank spilled his feelings to Mikey, how tired and suffocated he felt. "I can't do anything for him, and he can't do anything for himself, and I'm scared he's going to give up; I'm scared he already has."

"I think you should talk to him more. I don't think you'll worry as much if you keep conversation open."

"We do talk about it, and this is so hard on both of us, I don't know. He thinks I'm gonna get tired of taking care of him and just stop. He's already worried about me—"

"And he has reason to be. You're exhausted and you work hard to keep him happy and comfortable. Frank, you need to talk to him right now, because he can see how stressed out you are," Mikey advised.

"Okay," Frank nodded. He wiped at his eyes and made himself stop crying. Upon walking in Gerard's room, Gerard opened his mouth to say something. "I'm sorry," Frank instantly apologized instead, before Gerard could speak.

"No, no, hey, come here," Gerard said, ignoring the quality of his voice. He pulled on Frank to sit on the edge of the bed. "I know how worried you are, Frank, but I'm worried about you, too. You're exhausted, you don't get enough sleep, I can't even imagine how you feel."