I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

High

Blood dripped from Gerard's nose, crusted on his lips from where he threw up. The new nosebleed wasn't helping his pain and fear. As always, Frank attempted to tell him he was okay. Gerard was tired, beginning to fade into sleep before his nosebleed even stopped. Frank let him, peacefully, although the results from several medical tests were supposed to be coming into them.

Gerard said he didn't really care anymore. It didn't matter to him unless it was going to help his pain levels. Lately, the boy had been tired, but he complained about various pains, too intense for sleep to find him, so if it was at bay enough for him to rest, Frank wouldn't hesitate to allow him as much sleep as he needed.

Frank sat on his cot across from Gerard's bed. He looked calm, which soothed Frank's own heart. Last time he'd fallen asleep, he woke up a few hours later, crying as he choked that his chest hurt. The occurrence of similar pains was common for him now - whatever pain medication he was on wasn't enough to overpower the pain.

Frank was waiting for his phone to ring or for a knock on Gerard's door, so he wasn't surprised when the familiar face of a woman appeared in the doorway. Frank pressed a finger to his lips, glancing nervously at Gerard's sleeping form. He didn't stir. There was a sense of dread that came to Frank whenever he saw Gerard's doctor, but that wasn't her fault - she had been the one to give them Gerard's diagnosis, she had been the one to order every stronger dose of pain medication, she had been the one to ease Gerard into staying in the hospital instead of at home. She was always gentle enough, but Frank hated seeing her.

She gestured for Frank to go out in the hallway with her, with a sympathetic smile on her face. He knew this couldn't be good.

"Hi, Mister Iero, we meet again," she said.

Frank could only nod.

"You look tired. You should probably go home and get some rest."

Frank shrugged. "I'm worried about him."

"I don't blame you."

"So, what else is wrong with him?"

"Aside from broken ribs and side effects . . . I - I have to be honest with you, Mister Iero. His organs are failing him."

"Okay," Frank said, looking at her with the same franticness as the first time they met, "what does that mean for us?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "His entire body is shutting down. The only way to even possibly slow down the process is a surgical transplant -"

"When can we get him in?" Frank rushed.

She sighed and shook her head. "What you have to understand is that it's not an option for him anymore."

"Why not?"

"They'd put him under, but he's too weak. He wouldn't be able to wake up from it."

Frank rubbed his knuckles over his cheek. "Then what're we supposed to do?"

"Mister Iero-" she slowly said, sending a chill up his spine at how distant she sounded. "- believe me when I say that this is the hardest part of my entire job. I hate to have to tell you this, but he's only got a week to live, and that's if you're lucky. It's time to let go."

Frank felt the air leave his body. Less than a week . . . Tears pricked up in his eyes, his cheeks going red. His whole body was shaking with fury and utter helplessness. "What do you mean, 'let go?'" He cried.

She looked pained, which made Frank bitter - as if she had any idea what he was going through. "Start planning on what you want to do after he's passed. Be ready."