FicWad

Chapter 10

Frank's POV

He had been gone for so long. I was starting to worry. I had already finished unpacking too. What if something serious was wrong with him? No. Nothing could be wrong. He is Gerard Way, for chrissake.

But Frank, he has smoked for nearly ten years, you know that. And remember his alcoholism? Yeah. That. He's not the healthiest individual.

Stop it. There's no point in worrying now. He'll tell you if something's wrong. He won't hide anything from you. He would never.

Gerard's POV

After the MRI, I was sent to aspacious room to wait while they processed the photos for me to see. Of course, the doctors on call already knew the results. And I had a feeling I knew too. Things were looking grim.

Half an hour later, I was ushered back into the small clinic room I had started in. Dr. Wade was there, along with a few other doctors whom I didn't recognize. The small lettering on their lab jackets let me know that they were from Oncology, the cancer unit of the hospital. Shit. On the wall, transparent photos from my MRI hung limply, light shining through them, illuminating them so they could be seen clearly. As Iwalked towards the doctors, all of them were looking at me grimly. I felt as though I was a prisoner walking into court to receive my punishment. And in away, I really was a prisoner. The doctors were the jury, the cancer was the judge. And the judge was giving me the death sentence.

I nodded a somber greeting to the doctors. "What's the verdict?" I joked weakly, even though I knew the answer. And to a point even, I had already accepted it. One of the oncologists stepped forward, and introduced himself as Dr. Lee. He also told me that he would be the doctor handling my "issues" from now on.

"So you see, Mr. Way..."

"Call me Gerard," I cut in, I was sick of everything being so fucking formal.

"Okay, Gerard. You see this mass?"Dr. Lee pointed at a lump in one of the photographs that seemed to be resting comfortably in my lungs. "This is the main tumor. Which we did find to be cancerous. Now, if it was just that one mass, treatment would be much easier. But you see," Lee paused, bringing forth a new, more intricate photo. "There are many other, smaller yet potent masses throughout your chest cavity. This means that the cancer had spread, and is now in what we call stage two."

I gulped, trying to control my already ragged breathing. "What does that mean?"

"What it means, I'm afraid, is that we're just a bit too late to treat successfully. I mean, we can still try chemotherapy pills, but it most likely won't be curative. It'll be more palliative, meaning it'll just help reduce the pain until, you know, the end."

I felt that hopeless feeling of dread return to me. Oh god. I was really dying. "H- how long do I have?"

"If you go through with the chemo, it'll give you six months, a year at best. And without it, well, you'd be lucky to get two months."

One year. That's all I had. At best. I only had one year left with my Frankie. I couldn't tell him. If I did, that's all he would think about. I wanted our last months together to be beautiful, full of life. Not wallowing in the misery of my impending death. This was going to be hard to keep a secret, though.

"Will um... will the chemo make me lose my hair?" I asked.

"Unfortunately so. Now, you won't go all the way bald because the palliative dose isn't as strong as the curative. But your hair will become considerably shorter and thinner," Lee replied, looking at me sympathetically. "So will you be starting the chemo pills?"

I nodded. "Yes please. I want all the time I can get."