Crazy like you, Lollipop (Frerard and insanity) - Page 380 - The Black Parade

**Nukyster** · 01-18-2010, 05:47 PM

^All three above, Yekith, RainBowBangs and Aseret.

Thank you, I've seriously said: You make my day, out loud. Three times. I mean it, I sort of dumped this chapter here with a 'see if I care' additude because I honestly keep feeling like fanfiction on this site is dying out. But now I'm up in my big ass airballoon ready to fight crime (wtf).

I love that you all three get Gerard's desperation and complete crave to fully get back. Yesterday I saw an interview called 'the walk' (dutch tv don't bother) and they where talking to a guy who'd been psychotic (I ordered his book that should come in tomorrow) and today I saw a show called 24 hours with a woman suffering from again, psychoses. I wanna get that world, being completly in your own world, being the centre of the/your world. It's empty and at the same time it's everything. Acording to both persons being in that state, is bliss. Euforic, it's perfect and your just walking your beat.

But at the same time it destroys everything, the real world moves on while your stuck in yours. And Gerard doesn't want that to happen. But I think it's hard to fight 'it', because you drift away, it's a dream your living while you think your fully awake. Something doesn't make sense but the rest seems so real. I think Gerard has been through enough slips to know the feeling of drifting away and now he's doing everything to prevent that last step into the deep.

It must be incredibily hard to 'swing to shore' while everything inside of you tries to drag you down. And nobody can really help you, his system is all fucked up because of the sleepind meds he'd got and do not fuck with medicines seriously. And nobody outside his head can help him because nobody knows what he's going through. I'm not even sure if he wants that, have someone that fully knows what happens inside his head. It's sad really, the voices and insanity if fighting the outside world, one big buzzing itching fight and he has to be in hte middle of everything. Answer questions, ignore, tell them to shut up, try to act normal and put his own emotions aside for a while because there is too much.

Aww and than Frank, you're right Yekith it must suck so much to see your boyfriend struggle and then tell you to stay out of it. Feeling powerless, unsure if you should let him be or hold him tight. Not so very good for Frank's way of letting things out.

I love you guys, seriously, <3

X Nuky

RainBowBangs · 01-19-2010, 12:12 PM

Glad we're making you happy!

Keep writing always

xo Mallie

**Nukyster** · 02-03-2010, 01:51 PM

Chapter 171) Noises of success

.-.-.

He lost sense of time. In a weird way you keep being sane while you’re being insane. You know things aren’t going according to plan. You know that what you think doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true. Same goes with feelings, thoughts, touch everything can be a part of the craze. It can be hard to figure out what’s real and what’s not.

He knew he lost track of time when he found himself in bed at the early age of five in the afternoon. He didn’t recall going to sleep, which left him clueless how he got there. Right now he’d loved to grab a bunch of comics and disappear into the land of action characters. Or watch the colors dissolve, disappear of change. Paper did funny things every once in a while.

He couldn’t read, because there wasn’t much here left. He felt like a polar bear standing on a piece of ice, breaking off piece for piece.

He was still tired, unable to puzzle out how long he had been asleep or if he even had been asleep. So he got up, noises filling up his head. He didn’t bother anymore, got sick and exhausted trying to block them out. It made them all friendlier now he no longer tried to get rid of them. Approving muttering drifted quietly through his head.

He honestly didn’t feel much for walking into the living room. Who knew what he might have been doing? The people in the living room would know what he’d been doing before he went to sleep in his bedroom.

Nobody went into any slight form of hysteria as he cowardly scampered into his living room. White couch still white, no blood stains on them or on the wall. Ray didn’t start rocking back in forth as soon as he caught him walking along his seat. Bob wasn’t around, but had to be still breathing else he would have been in jail by now. So he hadn’t killed or injured Bob, yet, else Sarah wouldn’t give him that puzzled goofy girl look she threw him right now.

And then Frank, god Frankie. It felt like ants crawling under his skin. Frankie with his deer struck in headlight peek, only looking at him if he thought he didn’t notice.

When you’re crazy you don’t stop existing, that’s something most people don’t realize. Just because you hear a dozen other voices doesn’t mean you miss out the real once completely. Sure, it can be complicated to select them out, but if you train picking out the sounds you want to hear it was possible. Just a matter of practice.

He knew Frank wasn’t doing right, didn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

Being crazy doesn’t mean you stop caring, another thing most people don’t realize. Because you hurt people you care about. You can turn into an animal, spitting and biting included. You turn violent, withdrawn, all depending on your mood, your delusions and thoughts.

He knew he hadn’t dropped off the edge yet because he could reason things out. All he wanted to do was pull Frank close and whine like a little kid about how horrible he felt. But that wouldn’t be right, it would give Frank the fake impression that he was doing better. Keeping distance was a must, if he’d seek contact that could only turn out bad.

He knew he could hurt Frank, badly. He was very much aware he was the older, stronger and the dangerous one. Maybe even the smarter one because he couldn’t wrap his mind around why Frank chose to be with him. The point was he didn’t want to cost Frank any hurt and he knew in times like these he didn’t have that much of self control. And he would slit his throat before he turned into a nightmare like Nicky.

So he ignored Frank, the best he could. And if he had to he would shove him away, get him out of his trigger field. He needed as much distance as he could. He needed that.

If he secluded himself from Frank when he was crazy he had more drive to get sane again, an extra ‘threat’ to get well. In the early days he’d focused on being able to see late night movies. Or get some kind of lame video game, which he screwed up pretty fast. He threw his game boy color in the fish tank (one reason they didn’t have any pets) soon after.

He needed a drive, because the drive to let go of reasoning and just dive into that wicked feeling of complete madness was strong, overwhelming. It wasn’t all bad, being insane had amazing sides. When living a psychoses the world literally revolves around you. You, is all what matters, you is all where you need to care about. And everything is simply bliss. Worlds throw their doors open. Sound and color leave all boundaries, an artist would kill for living a day in his crazy state of mind. Sure there where scary thing in that world, horrible sickening things. But weren’t there horrible things in the Real World as well?

It was living in the core of his own madness, or it was staying around in the Real World. Because he honestly had no clue how much of the time he actually spent in the Real World. Mainly if felt like balancing on the edge, and he wasn’t that balanced out.

Frank was real enough, although he wondered from time to time if he wasn’t dreaming. Maybe that was why he unconsciously pinched himself a lot. Or hurt himself every once in a while. Because pain was real, pain is always real. And if you drew blood, hit enough to bruise up, that was real. A sharp sting of ‘real’.

“Maybe that’s why I threw my fist into the window.” He wondered, thinking out loud. “Maybe I should keep my got damn mouth shut.” He uttered annoyed with the concerned gazes shooting up from all sides. “Maybe I should just get some god damn medication before I go play thunderstorm.”

He didn’t care about Sarah’s guilty face and her soft mumbling about ‘tomorrow’. Instead he chose to lift up one of the two white chairs, raise it above his head and give it a nice toss through the liv’. After it hit the kitchen counter he putted it back on its place.

A few voices cheered a few faces looked very disappointed. He didn’t care about either.

.-.-.

He’d seen Way at his worst, as Way had seen him crawl and shudder through his worst parts.

It’s always hell to go through your personal hell, it’s so much of a hell you forget the innocent bystanders. Your mom, your siblings, friends, family. You’re so far gone you won’t get or even see their pain until you’re over your own.

Way wasn’t aware of how dysfunctional he made their already dysfunctional group. Living around each other gets you linked, you gain some kind of relation (Frank and Gee taking that one very literally). It doesn’t take much to get that fragile balance out of balance. Every action cost another reaction.

Ray couldn’t coop with the fact that his daily routine lost its strict rhyme because of Gerard. Therefore Ray found it necessary to keep them up half of the night with his groaning and thumping on the walls.

Bob, not known for his patience and gently nature didn’t do well on lack of sleep and couldn’t be as supportive as he should be for Frank. Sharing a package of his cigarettes was doable but trying to be caring… No, not his style and not in the mood for it.

Frank, stressed out without much of a backup, couldn’t be doing well. Which couldn’t be good for Gerard, couldn’t be good for all of them.

Vicious circle, a tricky one to get out because all problems where linked in one way or another. Fixing one might be enough, but the question was: which one should be fixed first?

His personal lack of support towards his group member, better known as Frank. The dude who came in straight and in a way betrayed him by turning gay with his former friend and foe.

Ray’s incapability for changes, with nobody around with enough knowledge nor understanding how difficult the life of an Autistic troubled young man must be

Frank’s self-destructing way of coping with his problems, while being in a very difficult relationship that could, in a way, be very harmful for both of them.

And last but defiantly not least, Gerard. Who once again cost their fragile stability to fall into pieces.

Bob stared at Gerard who looked dead tired yet unable to sit still. Head swinging to all sides while muttering soft to himself. Hadn’t even looked at his plate yet, managed to drink a few sips of his water before cursing soft and shaking his head. Over and over until he got up and left without excusing himself.

Bob turned his gaze back to his own near empty plate. Frank, who sat next to him didn’t make a sound but he noticed how the younger boy clawed his nails into the soft skin of his wrist.

Bob kept silent, knowing whatever he’d say would be dumb and untrue. Things weren’t looking bright for their little family.

.-.-.

Flipping channels wasn’t fun when you couldn’t set your mind into mindless mode. By now she’d gone through half a bag of B-branded chips, three snickers bars, half a gallon of diet coke and a few M&M’s. She was a cold hard problem binger. Every time a problem came on her path she would have some kind of sugary support. Sometimes she missed her job at Starbucks, at least there she could stuff her mouth full with vary of muffins and cheesecake without anyone noticing.

She muted the TV when she heard the noise of footsteps getting dragged through the hall. For a moment she held her breath to sort out who’s footsteps it where. Then she turned off the TV and silently got up.

“Gerard?” She walked into the hallway just in time to see her buddy shut himself into iso. Hurried she reached for the heavy door and opened it again. The sober white pillow room welcomed her with a feeling of captivity. Once she’d spent about an hour in the isolation cell, to understand the feeling of being trapped. Being alone, all on your own, trusting other people you didn’t know to let you back out. Trust your mental health to be stable enough to be let out.

She found her client Indian styled in the corner with his blanket wrapped around him, his pillow at his feet. He didn’t responded when she called his name again, neither did he look up as she switched the lights on. He just sat there, rocking a little back and forth while his hand ran through his face over and over.

“Gerard, why are you sitting here? Why aren’t you in your room, it’s after curfew.” She announced, just in case he’d lost track of time, again. She’d kept guard in the doorway, unsure what his motives where. “Gerard?”

“They’re all talking to me.” He whispered, his absent gaze telling her he was far gone. He wasn’t even looking directly at her, but stared at the blank wall while he moved constantly. “All of them.” He shook his head and kept scratching his face. “Things come out of the walls, their shadows and they think I don’t notice. But I do, ‘m not… I mean I am, can see from the corner of my eyes. Their there and their laughing. I think they wanna kill me, just dunno how and why yet. There not real, but they wanna kill me Bee, their planning to kill me.” Slowly he sank to his side and lay down on the soft floor exhausted and hands curling up into fist. “They’re all talking to me, know t’s not true but they keep telling me stuff, t-talking… and I just want ‘em to stop ‘cause I can’t take ‘t anymore. Can’t, really I can’t.”

Her heart sank. “Owh sweetie…” Her sense told her there wasn’t any threat into stepping into the isolation cell, so she did and kneeled down next to the poor thing laying on the floor. “Can you sit up?” She ushered him into a sitting position and took his hand, it was clammy and hot. “Get up, where going to the living room.”

“But ‘m doing bad, I should stay here.” Gerard said dejected.

“You’re not, if you were you wouldn’t want to have a sleepover in the isolation cell Gerard.” Which was true, if Gerard lost touch of reality he’d rather run then hide. And there wouldn’t be any sense left to talk to. “C’mon let’s get you out of here, being in this cell all on your own keeps can’t be healthy for you at the moment. Plus there is some Friday the Thirteenth marathon I won’t be able to watch alone.”

.-.-.

Sometimes he missed his mom. Just someone that loved him unconditionally. Sure he had Mikey, his baby brother. And Frank, God bless Frank, his boyfriend. And Bob, tough-love Bob and silent Ray, friends.

But at some point in his life they would go away, fade bit by bit. Some slower than others, but he knew that one day they would disappear. Because no-one stays in a psychiatric centre if their sanity gives them the option to leave. All the people he cared for and love, would leave him behind and move on.

That’s life, his life. And he dealt with it, some days better than others. If you don’t have a choice you learn you have to let things go. And things meant friends, family and all other people you love. Special persons you’d rather hold too tight then wave at, a cheerless goodbye. It’s a life lesson, sometimes you have to let go even if it isn’t your choice. Doesn’t mean it’s for the best, but it’s life. His life.

Sometimes Bee could feel like a mom. The TV kind of moms, not like his own mom because in all honestly she couldn’t handle him and he couldn’t handle knowing that. But Bee seemed like a mom. The way she could talk with him, relativise his problem. Simply scold at him at times and never expecting a miracle.

Or simply saying nothing at all, like right now. Letting him be, while being there just in case. Honestly, Bee was going to be a kick ass mom for whatever kind of kid she would bring into the world. She would roll her eyes if he would tell her that, honestly she had no idea how awesome she was.

The screen kept flickering and there where a lot shades of blood. It didn’t interests him, to be honest if Bee had forced him into watching a whole season of Desperate Housewives he wouldn’t mind. In the first ten minutes of the movie marathon he’d maneuvered himself against her side, head resting in the crook of her neck, his cheek touching her collar bone. To total stranger they could have looked like a nice couple, weren’t it they both had a boyfriend and he was completely and utterly terrified. Things were out there to get him and they weren’t real, nobody else could see them.

He did, but he managed to keep still because she’d been right. Iso wasn’t the best place for him right now, honestly being in an overcrowded mall would be a better pick. Because there would be an overkill of reality, people dragging him into the Real world. While in iso he’d be all alone with the voices and images only he could perceive.

‘She’s a cunt, I’m telling you she’s a fucking cunt.’

‘No, I like her she has pretty hair, I wanna bathe in purple. Tastes like blueberry.’

‘Why does the couch feel so cold?’

‘Maybe someone died on it, did he kill someone yet?’

“Gerard are they still talking to you?” Sarah asked, it was funny and helpful because he could hear her talk and feel her talk.

‘…And kill her in a blink of an eye…’

‘Shut it ugly face he’s not listening to you anyway!’

‘I’m blind, I think I can’t see black anymore.’

He closed his eyes and let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Yeah, pretty much. But t’s just voices right now, haven’t seen anything dark and shadowy-.” Yet, he thought and tried to pay some attention to the screen. He was the reason Bee was going to have bloody nightmares for a few weeks in a row, he better acted like he saw more than red shades blur over the screen. He just hoped the blood would stay inside the TV, it could flood out. That happened once before and it was weird to explain why you had to keep your feet on the couch or coffee table.

“Will… will ‘t freak you out if I start talkin’ to them?” He felt highly uncomfortable saying that. There was no chance people around him didn’t notice he talked to whatever was inside his head every once in a while. But this was different from the mindlessly soft muttering he did if he thought (hoped) nobody paid attention.

“Not really I think, try me.” She said thoughtful and gave him an encouraging pet on the back of the head, carefully not to touch his window-scalp wounds. “Just give me a heads-up when you’re talking to me again.”

“Kay.” That made him feel slightly better and cleared his throat. “She’s not a fucking cunt ya know, so keep your god damn crack-ass mouth shut motherfucker!” He noticed she’s stopped breathing for a sec and reassured her. “That’s the only way some shut up Bee, gatta talk real trashy and shit s’mtimes. Else they’ll just go on and on. And I don’t like it if they keep talking bad ‘bout you.”

“Do they talk a lot about me?” She asked badly hiding her surprise.

“Naah, not more than ‘bout the others.” He couldn’t help himself and smirked. “Ya don’t wanna know what some have ta say ‘bout Bob.”

“How does it work?” She then asked and explained herself with a few stutters. “I mean… how do they sound, things like that.”

“Their kids voices mostly, I think I’ve heard a dozen or something. S’mtimes a few leave but then another few replace them. Their sorta okay, there is just this one I really don’t like. Sounds just like me, but meaner and s’mtimes he looks at me from the mirror-“ He lowered his voices a bit. “-He can make me hurt other people if I lose it, knows how to push my buttons and I dunno… He likes it when ‘m angry I guess.”

He could hear and feel her let out a thoughtful hmmm. “Does he, like, have a name or something?”

He shook his head soft realizing most of them had gone quiet, a little less background noise came from them. “No, not really. Docs used to say t’s not good to name them so I don’t. I have given them names when I was young, like when my folks thought it was just very cute I had a few fantasy friends. ‘M not ganna tell them though, they might come back and there stupid names. ‘Cause I was like five or something when I named them.” He quickly told her. She hummed in return again and he relaxed for a bit. As long as he kept his eyes on the screen, breath and not move an inch until his head stopped racing he’d be okay. Not cured, but okay.

.-.-.

Hello dear readers this will be my last update before I go away for five days to London *hell yeaah!* So sorry the end is a bit abrupt but I wanted to leave something behind while I’m checking out the Tower of London and get drunk in some random pub. If any of you happen to live in London look out for a girl (woman by now) with short bleached hair speaking English with a very bad/horrible Dutch accent, that’ll be me.

Kisses and cure, Nuky

RainBowBangs · 02-03-2010, 02:06 PM

OH my god, I really loved this chapter.

What was so great about it was that we got to see exactly what goes on in Gerard's brain and how the voices talk to him and how he feels about that. I also thought the little description of how he felt about Frank was really cute and I'm glad to see that even if he has slipped and is doing really bad atm, he still has a heart and he still cares about the ones he loves.

I loved how you described it from Bob's POV too in the middle of it all because really, we've just seen him be tough and hard but he cares too about everybody, you know? Even if he doesn't show it.

sorry about the short message but I don't have a lot of time =P

xo Mallie

Yekith · 02-03-2010, 04:42 PM

I'm not feeling too good today, so sorry for not leaving a real comment. I'm just letting you know I read it, as always, and enjoyed (well, enjoyed is just a saying, since I feel pretty bad for him) once again being inside of Gerard's head. And Sarah's right, he's not that bad yet if he wanted to isolate himself... Can't they give him some meds already?

Enjoy your trip! *hugs*

TheMutantPancake · 02-03-2010, 05:43 PM

I love you for this story, mostly because you can get so into Gerard's poor messed up head and really seem to understand what he feels like. I love it; I really do. Not only is your frantic description of his feelings utterly believable, but it's kind of beautiful in a creepy "I'm a tragedy-whore" kind of way.
But you already knew I was a tragedy-whore so it's cool ^_^
I adore Gerard in this; his life is just so sad but he's trying to fight through it and make sure he doesn't lose the people he cares about.

And I don't see any point giving up hope for fanfiction here. You're big-ass air balloon can do it! I've not been a member here very long and I dont get to go online that often, but I guess I'm really excited about theblackparade.net still, and I love to read the fanfics. They're the best part for me. I'm gonna try and start posting some fanfiction here soon, but in the meantime I'll read as much of it as possible.

*epic thumbs up from the Pancake* xx

**Nukyster** · 02-24-2010, 04:29 PM

Chapter 172) Dealing on a daily basis

.-.-.

It was stranger hearing noises from two directions. Internally and externally. Drifting and over floating with each other. Blending and torn in a fight, survival of the fittest, which one could make the most sound? Sometimes it made him feel special, being so important for both sides. Both trying to bride him into staying on theirs. Like: Come to the dark side, we have cookies, kind of special. It was hard to choose while other times he got dragged to the side that screamed loudest. Sometimes he didn’t have a choice at all.

‘What’s wrong, why can’t you ever be happy?’

‘There is no end, no way out of this misery, might as well kill yourself, what’s the big deal anyway?’

‘I know where they keep a spar key, you can make it man, you can make it!’

He was pretty much sure he’d woken up a while ago, just not entirely sure where he woke up. He wasn’t sleeping in his bed, or any other bed. The fabric around him felt different and the space was too small and slightly uncomfortable. He couldn’t spread his legs completely and his neck felt stiff. His head rested on a pillow and his face was all wet from his own salvia and he was cold and hot at the same time. His face itched extremely and he knew scratching wouldn’t help, he would try though. It’s a reflex and you’ll keep doing it until you tear your own skin off, because the itch will get that bad.

“Sarah, he’s going to be alright? Right, he’s not going to get worse, right?”

Other voices, they calmed him down. It was a relieve that he still heard the external voices. He kept his eyes shut and smiled, hiding his face in his clammy pillow. Frankie, it was the sound of Frankie’s voice. Frank was still around, Frank still cared about him. Frank didn’t wise he was dead yet.

His buddy’s voice dwelled inside his head while other voices groaned in disapproval: “I honestly can’t tell you Frank, I don’t know. Soon as he wakes up I will give him his medication and in the afternoon King will be here to… I dunno test him or something.”

He smiled again, Bee sounded so worried, Bee didn’t want him to die either, the voices had been wrong and big fat fucking liars. He should tried to ignore them, lousy death threats. But maybe Bob wanted him dead, who knew everything’s possible right?

“Tests?! That’s all you’re going to do?! Run some tests on him and then what? What if he doesn’t pass, then what?” Frankie… Frank really sounded pissed off. Maybe he should say something about that because clearly Frank didn’t get that nobody could really help him. Not when the big bad battle of either sides was going on. It was like tossing a coin, things could go anywhere from here. He didn’t like that thought, but it was out of his hands by now.

‘She’s going to slip rat poison in your food, she’s going to cut you into pieces, you’ll be roast beef sonny-boy.’

‘I’m scared, their all hiding behind me, why don’t they leave me alone.’

‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Just calm down and sleep, everything will be over soon.’

“No, I don’t wanna go back to sleep.” His voice sounded dull and pointless. But it made him blink his eyes and even better, sit up. He discovered that he spend the night sleeping in the living room, covered with a fuzzy blanket. A few DVD’s lay near him, all Disney Classics. He liked watching the classics when he was doing bad. Same old, same old between good and bad. And a lot of singing, it was easier to keep your focus on something simple, with a clear view on right and wrong. No need to think when you’re watching Sleeping beauty.

“He’s up.” Frank stated, his voices seemed to go both ways: relieved and worried. Strange mix.

In slow-motion he stared around and saw his roommates appear from the dinner room. Frank’s face was pale and he seemed ready to piss himself. Bob’s face had something nostalgic, it was a little grim and ‘been there one that’. Sarah seemed confused and Ray simply moved towards the TV. He liked Ray most by now, just continuing his routine like nothing was wrong at all.

“How are you feeling Gerard?” Sarah asked and touched his face. It was weird and warm while he was sure his face was pretty hot as well. Itchy and sort of infected, he wondered if they all could see the freak by now. Maybe not because he still felt some calmness and comfort inside. How he was feeling besides that, he honestly didn’t know and couldn’t possibly answer.

“I drooled on the pillow.” He said instead, happy he found something else to talk about. “I’m sorry.” He said a little less cheery, like he actually meant it. Because Sarah had been around last night and must be shitty tired by now. He looked at her for some answers. “How long did I sleep?”

“A little less than four hours I think.” She answered staring intensely into his eyes. She must see that there was something off, something wrong.

“Means you haven’t slept more than four hours as well.” He said, he’d liked to show off a little with his sanity skills. Or just point out he wasn’t completely retarded by now. Because he wasn’t sure Frank had seen him in this state of mind yet and he didn’t want to give the guy the impression his boyfriend was retarded.

“’M sorry.” He apologized, really meaning it. He was really fucking up her day and night rhythm and she was nice enough to keep that smile up. Like everything was dandy and within minutes there would be a magical pill that would take him completely out of lalaland.

That thought made him sad and he felt like crying, but he didn’t because he felt too tired.

“Do you want something to eat Gerard?” Sarah asked him and he nodded subconscious.

“Hot chocolate and oatmeal.” It was weird when he felt dangling he always choose that food. It was his favorite morning meal when he still lived at home, it gave him some sense of reassurance. Or maybe he thought too much about his own being, then again there wasn’t much else to think about.
He tried to work on routine, got up, parked his ass on his seat and waited until Sarah fixed his meal. In the meantime he got plagued by voices and hated Bob’s and Frank’s nervous looks, sometimes exhaling information he was secluded from.

“Only for the sane, only for the sane, sure why not get your own damn club.” It sounded mean, he had to agree it sounded mean and a few voices agreed with him while others cheered. Highly confusing.

He ate his meal in silence, scooped some on another plate to be sure there wasn’t anything drifting underneath the surface. He drank his hot chocolate when it was lukewarm and only after pouring it in another mug, just in case.

Then it was, sweet hallelujah send me angel, medication time. He took the pills with grace, drank most of the water and promised he wouldn’t throw up because he really wanted to get better. He had no clue if they believed him.

“Ya know, maybe I’m not bipolar, maybe I’m a scitzo and you’re all talking to the wrong person. Like maybe ‘m like thirty people. Or maybe you’re all wrong anyway.” He didn’t knew why he said it, he just did. “And I don’t wanna die, seriously I don’t wanna die.” This he said because he fully meant it.

.-.-.

It was a rough start, with nearly now sleep she envied Sleeping Beauty. After Gerard woke up he couldn’t be left alone and he wouldn’t stand be near Frank. What was nearly impossible because she couldn’t tell Frank to stay in his room as she couldn’t let Gerard stay in his. She finally made the compromise with Gerard that Frank could be in the same room, just have a few feet of distance. Frank miserably agreed as well and made sure he spend most of the time outside. Ray got majorly agitated because he didn’t understand the tension around him and Bob acted like he didn’t care at all.

Meanwhile she’d taken Gerard aside, told him to hold still and cut his nails because the scratchs on his face went from bad to worse.

“T’s not like I can help it!” He said to his own defense.

“I’m not saying you can, but I can’t let you scratch your face off.” She answered. “You should take a shower too, no offence but you’re a bit smelly.”

His eyes rolled from side to side and then backwards while he rubbed through his face and then suddenly shouted out: “No I don’t wanna take a shower, no shower –no shower. Someone might shoot me, kill me. I don’t wanna go alone and I can’t look in the mirror because he’ll laugh and hate my ass. I can’t look, no.”

She let him mutter to himself for a short while before taking his hand and squeezing it soft. He focused on her, twitching with his head. “I don’t wanna go, don’t make me go, please don’t make me go.”

“I’ll go with you, I won’t peek and make sure nobody gets in to kill you. I’ll even cover the whole mirror up, how about that? Nobody can look at you then.”

He stared at her in silence, misery dwelling over his face.“’Kay.” He said eventually, defeated and trusting her to make sure he’d get out alive and in one piece. “But you need to keep the door open, don’t close the door ‘cause if he comes I wanna get out. I really need to get out then.”

She was glad with his approval, because honestly she wouldn’t be able to make him do anything if he didn’t want to. She wasn’t even sure Kurt could make him do things if he really did not want to. Let out make him do anything that mortified him for whatever reason.

“Are there any clothes you don’t want to wear?” She asked, guessing that might be important.

He hummed, his foot nervously tapping on the floor. “Just plain things, no red because it’ll leak off and like cover the whole floor. Then I need to clean it because I made the mess. No red, just plain. No colors, please.”

“Alright, I think I can make that work. Let’s go.” She said and pulled him off his seat. He followed her like a shadow and seemed anxious to go around every corner. He even followed her into the laundry room, but kept standing in the doorway while she picked some clean clothes out of his laundry basket.

“I don’t wanna take a shower.” He pressed again, nudging his hand into the wall. It must hurt because he did it pretty hard, but didn’t show any sign of pain. “I really don’t want too.”

“I know you don’t Gerard, but it’s for your own good. I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards.” She ensured him although she wasn’t that sure herself. She’d even paged Kurt to be steady if things didn’t work out. The male nurse had taken position in the living room and could be with her in a second.

Both of them walked over to the bathroom, Gerard dragging himself forward as if it was his last march. “I really don’t wanna go in there.” He muttered sad when she opened the door.

“It’s ok, look I covered up the mirrors so it’s safe to go.” She told him and pointed at the mirror hidden behind some old towels. She had to pull him in and while she placed his clean clothes down on the sink he stood there, arms wrapped around his torso and muttering to himself.

“If you want you can talk them out loud.” She told him and he immediately started to talk louder.

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up.” He said in an angry voice. “I’m sick of you, I’m not ganna listen to you and ‘m not ganna break anything, ‘cause that’s bad luck!” He must have been referring to the mirrors and he glanced suspiciously at the old towels. “T’ll hold—because she said so!”

Without any enthusiasm he slowly started to undress himself. “Bee ‘m talking to you again, don’t peek. You’re a girl I don’t want you to see me naked.”

She didn’t see the point because it had happened that he danced around in the hall butt naked. But she did what he asked, sat down on the sink and looked away. Shortly after she heard him dump his clothes on the floor hot water started to run.

“Can you like… talk or s’mthing Bee, ‘cause ‘m getting a bit edgy in the cubicle. Like… people always get killed when their taking a shower in horror movies. And for all I know someone might have killed you by now and head over to me to finish me off.”

“Owh, errr sure.” She stuttered. “Anything specific you want me to talk about?”

“Naah, not really just talk about Don’s band or something.”

So she did. She talked about the contract some big and fancy record company kept delaying, changing paper work leaving them in the dark. How the singer of the band had started to write little songs about those ‘vultures’ waiting for them to die so they could get all the good piece for free.
She complained about how stressed and mutt Don seemed, spending every damn earned penny in the band and how she hoped everything would work out so they didn’t need to sell the band van or the motor cycle because she didn’t want to shrink back to public transport.

Gerard mumbled from the little cubicle, which she wasn’t sure if he meant it in response to what she was saying, or that he talked to his voices. She caught herself thinking of his voices rather than the voices.

“’M done.” Gerard said dull, loud enough to make her aware that he’s talking to her and not to something else. “Towel.” A short pause and he opened up the cabin for a little bit just enough to stretch his hand out. “Please.”

The little sign of politeness made her smile, for some reason she thought that being civil banned out insanity, or kept it at a safe distance. Handing him a towel she said: “You don’t have to stay in there, I’ll look away.”

“Naah… ‘m fine.”Gerard responded, snatching the towel back in and closing the door. “This place is alright, out ‘s bad. Real bad right now.” The towel got tossed over the cubicle. “Clothes.” The door reopened just long enough for her to hand him his clothes. A worn out pair of jeans and a simple plain black t-shirt.

“Are you coming out so you can put some socks and shoes on too?” She asked, suspiciously trying to overhear any sound made in the tiny shower cubicle.

“Just a fucking minute.” Gerard snarled frustrated and immediately after muttering to himself. “T’s okay, t’s okay. Nobody there and he’s all covered up. Or a cover up. Maybe…” He sounded undecided and worried, then stated: “’M not getting out. Nuhu. No.”

Unintentionally she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. Politeness reached his end. “Gerard, nothing will or can happen in here.”

“T’s not the fucking point, time is all shit, t’s not about what can’t or won’t yaknow. T’s not about fucking time, just gimmy a minute!” His voices grew in volume, snarling and agitated. He threw in a blow into the tiled walls and she could hear him sank down to the floor. “Talk to me, tell me s’mothing to I can make the rest of ‘em go away.”

“Gerard there is nothing in here that can do something to you, you’re safe.” She tried.

Gerard snorted and kicked against the wall. “Tell me s’mthing I don’t know yet.”

“Can’t you at least open up the door so I know you’re not hanging yourself?”

“No can do, talk.”

Unsteady she started to talk about small talk subject. What kind of groceries she needed to buy, that she ran out of cat food for her cat, that by now must have learned how to handle a cane opener by lack of decent care from his owners. She talked about her neighbors that pissed her off and how the landlord could be a pain in the ass. After she mentioned dying her hair jet black Gerard pushed the door open, still sitting on the floor.

“Don’t screw up your purple, Ray won’t coop with that much of a change.” He told her, plucking irritated on the clammy fabric of his jeans. He shifted with his legs, drenching his knees in small puddles of water. Wit prying eyes he scanned the bathroom and nodded approving when he didn’t spot anything that might put his life at risk. “My head hurts.” He stated thoughtful and pushed himself up from the wall. “T’s like a shitload of storm up in ‘here. Fucking titanic crashing, hitting my brain, t’ll sink in my nerve system and then I’ll bluescreen.”

“That nearly sounded poetical…” She muttered wondering how much of what he said might be true. “Come on, you took a shower you’re off the hook.”

The young adult in front of her tilted his head and stared down at her. His eyes gave away that there was something wrong with him, switching from side to side too often. And the glance seemed abnormal, wildly and unfocused. There was something off and wrong with him, most of the time he did a good job of hiding that part. But standing this close made that freak ,as he named it, nearly touchable. It was something unpredictable yet just a small part of the person behind it.

“Gerard?” She asked when his staring gaze started to become mildly uncomfortable.

“Yeah?... Owh.” He blinked and looked passed her. “Sorry, t’s just… funny, just a funny little thing.”

“What’s so funny?” She asked noticing the space between the both of them wasn’t that much. Which was a little odd, mostly Gerard kept far out of her personal space.

“That ‘m actually listening to you most of them time. I used to not do that ya’know? When I was like younger and different? I wouldn’t listen to anyone smaller or weaker then I’d be. And that’s funny ‘cause I do now. And some of them really wanna beat your ass for it.” A soft whimpering chuckled escaped his lips and he quickly covered them with his hand before rubbing through his face. “T’s funny, fucking funny, like hysterical. ‘Cause you’re a girl and I didn’t even take shit from my mom back then.”

It seemed wise to leave that revealing come out be. “Let’s just get back to the living room alright?” Turning on her heals to head back to the living room she felt his hand grab her shoulder and squeeze it slightly. “What-?” She nearly screeched ready to pretend knowing a flying fuck about Kun fu.

“’M scaring the shit out of you right?” Gerard smirked somewhere finding that thought funny. “Sorry ‘bout that.” And after tapping her on her shoulder he staggered out of the bathroom, giggling about something he saw on the ceiling.

Sarah pouted her lips and sighed. “This isn’t over yet.”

.-.-.

Yekith · 02-24-2010, 07:30 PM

Oh, damn! Poor Sarah having to put up with Gerard in that state, and with few hours of sleep. And he did sound rather scary at the end. I also think one of the voices is kinda sexist! :P I hope going back to his meds will help Gerard get better again, although I guess it'll take some time...but at least a little better would be something right now, good for everybody.

I'd normally mention a lot more things about this chapter and how Gerard was evidently still there and aware of reality in spite of all...but it's a bad day and I'm having trouble to put my thoughts into words...

Can I have a place there with the boys? I think I'm going crazy...

RainBowBangs · 02-25-2010, 03:27 AM

Awwh, poor little Gerard! *worries alot*

He seemed so small and lonely in the beginning of this chapter, and I loved how he worried about everyone else and really cared that he was fucking up Sarah's sleep and Frankie's head and I loved how sad he was. And I think it really comes forward now, the fact that he really wants to get better. Because he took his pills, he tried to drown out the voices, he worried for other people and he went into that shower, and I'm so impressed with him right now to be honest. I didn't expect him to be this good, I was kind of expecting another breakdown after last chapter because I thought he was going downhill again, but instead we got a little peek in Gerard's head to see what's going on in there and we got to meet his voices and we got to see him fight the voices and prove them wrong. And I'm really proud of him.

And just so you know, if Sarah dyes her hair black, I will protest wildly. It's Sarah; she HAS to have purple hair! xD

I really loved this chapter, gave me something to think about.
Tell Gerard I say Hang in there! =)

xo Mallie