I'll Be Better Tomorrow (frerard)

Calls and some other word idk what to name these chapters

A/N: I don't know if any members of MCR are actually friends with any members of Fall Out Boy, but in this fanfiction they are !! :)

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All Frank wanted was to stop thinking about Gerard. He wanted that more than he wanted Gerard himself. If he thought about how much he loved Gerard, it was only sickening that they were apart.

He stayed at Mikey's house for two nights, trying to get accustomed to not seeing Gerard. It wasn't happening. He had to leave, because he was starting to feel an involuntary, furious jealousy boiling up at Mikey and Ray, who knew more about Gerard's condition, knew how he was feeling better than Frank. Frank hated himself for it, for feeling possessive of Gerard when he didn't want him anymore. He didn't want to feel upset with his best friends over his own breakup, either. They were the ones who were treating Gerard well while Frank couldn't. He should have been thankful for that, but he just wasn't, as he wanted to be the one who was there with him.

Frank had nowhere to go besides home, his and Gerard's house. He dreaded it; everything would remind him of Gerard, of him and Gerard together. It was the middle of the night when he left Mikey's house, and he hadn't told him he was leaving. He couldn't deal with waking up to watch Mikey go to the hospital without him again.

He pulled up to the front of the house, and parked the car. He didn't go in, instead getting a sharp dose of mental images, all with Gerard with him. He thought of how Gerard had remained smiley and cheerful when they were moving in, to keep Frank neutralized when he was stressed. He thought of the time Gerard had accidentally left the windows open, and Frank had been singing, then was comforted by Gerard from the embarrassing thought of someone else hearing him. He thought of Gerard pouting when they left for tour, as he didn't want to leave the house for two months, and Frank simply assured him they would stay home for a long while when they returned. He thought of coming home from tour, helping Gerard inside and to bed, drowsy with fever. He thought of the times he carried Gerard in, carefully, Gerard's happiness and appreciation for living with Frank gone with devastation.

Frank's fingers itched to reach for Gerard's hand across the console, but he was alone.

Still unable to find the emotional strength to go inside, Frank rested his head on the steering wheel of the car. His knuckles pressed into his temples, and he fell asleep with lingering thoughts of Gerard, how he couldn't accept living without him.

When he woke up in the morning, in front of the house, recognition and memories flooded too quickly, and he almost began crying.

He had missed calls and texts from Mikey, worried from his absence. Frank returned his call, warily - he had no desire to talk to Mikey.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" Mikey demanded.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm fine," Frank said. "I just needed to leave."

"It couldn't have waited until morning? Frank-"

"Can I talk to you later, Mikey? I'm just not feeling too great."

Mikey was quiet for a moment, then said, "Yeah. Yeah, keep in touch."

"I will."

Frank changed his clothes in the car, from the overnight bag he had at Mikey's, and the hospital before that. He had nothing to do - it was brutal to be left alone with no distraction from his thoughts, but it wouldn't be better if he was with a friend and had someone to talk to about it.

He was afraid he would have to live the rest of his life in the same mood, without Gerard, his only love, living beside him. There would be mystery to accompany his loneliness. When Gerard died, Frank would never know if he thought of him, if he missed him, if he wanted him to be there for comfort.

Yet Frank was supposed to know that Gerard loved him. Frank couldn't grasp that or believe it when Gerard had damaged all of Frank's emotions.

He weakly thought that to accept him and Gerard being over, he should figure out something to do besides sit around and over-think about him. There was nothing he could do to have that happen. It was far too soon to reach acceptance, Frank supposed.

Right when Frank was about to find somewhere to eat, his phone rang again.

A phone call meant hope that it was Gerard, guilt for thinking as such, and blatant disappointment that it was someone else.

Incoming call --- Pete Wentz

Frank hadn't spoken with Pete since he told him about the diagnosis. It had been awhile, too long. He couldn't control the numb bitterness in his voice as they greeted each other.

"Are you celebrating or anything about the news?" Pete asked.

He felt miserable at the idea at celebrating anything. Nothing was really worth it. "What news?" He asked.

"You know, the VMA thing," Pete said, as if Frank was the one being too nonchalant.

Frank didn't know what he was talking about. "VMAs?"

"Yeah, yeah, like, that's a big deal... "

"I don't know what you mean, actually."

"Your manager called you yesterday to tell you about the nomination . . . for video of the year? At the VMAs? You didn't space that, did you?"

"I never got a call from anyone," Frank said. "I . . . seriously?"

"I know for a fact your manager called Gerard, and I figured he definitely would have told you. But how is Gerard doing? How's he holding up? Is he -"

"I wouldn't know, Pete," Frank cut into Pete's ramblings. There was bitterness in his voice. "I haven't talked to him in a few days."

"You - you haven't?" Pete asked, caught off guard. "What happened?"

"He broke up with me," Frank informed. "He doesn't want to see me anymore."

"Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Yeah, he, um," Frank gulped, and there was a lump forming in his throat as he was forced to picture Gerard crying in his arms, Gerard's eyes searching when he told Frank to leave. "He said that, uh, I would lose him either way, because he's, you know, terminally ill, so, it would, like -" Frank's eyes were burning, and it was bad, he couldn't be crying, no, no, no, not around Pete, not over this. He hadn't cried yet since Gerard left him, and he didn't want to. Frank bit his lip, falling silent just to blink back tears.

"Frank? You there?"

Frank sniffled. "Yeah, sorry."

Pete exhaled audibly on the other end. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just -" Frank's voice caught and gave out on him. "He - he thinks this is better for me, and it's really not, you know?"

"You would rather have the alternative of staying with him until he passes?"

"I feel like I need to be with him."

"I can't believe... Gerard."

Frank knew what Pete meant - how shocking it still was that they were all going to lose Gerard. "I miss him," Frank whispered.

"That's gotta be hard, Frank, I can't even imagine. If you need to talk, or if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. I mean it," Pete said. "And I know it's really far, but if you want to just escape, you've got a place to stay in Chicago."

"Really?" Frank said, thinking about how much better he would feel out of Vegas.

"Yeah, of course. If you want to do that."

"Actually, that might be kinda nice. I keep just wanting to go to the hospital and see him, but I know I can't. And I lived with Gerard, so it's too hard to deal with being at home and seeing him everywhere," Frank confessed.

"That's not good for you," Pete said. "Get out for a bit. Clear your mind."