“Yeah?” I called back out to the all-too-familiar voice of Ray.
“Get the fuck over here!”
I slipped my journal and phone under behind the toilet
Why am I writing in the bathroom?
and made my way into the kitchenette, where Ray stood hunched over the counter with his phone in his hand.
“What’s up?” I asked, slightly worried at the possibility that this has something to do with Gerard.
“Gerard was up until 4 last night. Mikey stayed up with him and tried to get him to go to bed, but he wouldn’t.” He sighed. “He wants us to take Gerard for a while so he can get some rest.”
“Well what the hell are we supposed to do with him?” I asked, unaware of how angry I sounded until the words came out of my mouth.
“Continue Mikey’s efforts.”
“Alright, tell Mikes to send him over.”
I resumed my spot back in the bathroom, and found my stuff right where I left it.
Because someone will definitely break into THIS specific hotel room, and steal a whiny little kid’s journal and shitty phone.
I checked my phone, and after what seemed like eons, Mikey’s icon lit up the screen. I opened up the message, unsure of what to expect. Might as well prepare myself for the worst because optimism is a load of bullshit.
“Frank im scared. G wouldn’t go to sleep last night until 4, and he was acting really fucked up… please talk to him and try and figure him out because im not functioning after last night”
I was about to reply, but by the sounds coming from the kitchen, I have other duties.
I followed the trail of voices back into the kitchen, and there stood a dead, greasy, scared Mikey; Gerard, who looked just as bad yet appeared to have this weird happy disposition; and Ray, looking quite concerned at what was in front of him.
“Hey, guys.” I said awkwardly.
Mikey raised a hand, as if it was all he was able to do in his current state. Gerard turned his head to face me and smiled a little.
“Go get some sleep, we’ll be fine.” Ray said to Mikey, who soon after wandered back off to his own room without as much as a goodbye.
“Gerard you need more sleep. This is the only day you’ve had since the start of the tour, and this is the only day that you will have for another week and a half.” Ray tried his best to convince him.
“I don’t need sleep, I’m not even tired.”
“What did you do last night? Why were you awake so late?”
“I don’t really remember…” He replied, his voice and his mind both trailing off to somewhere else I could only wish to find.
I took my phone out of my pocket and sent Mikey a quick text before he went to sleep:
“What did he do that was so weird?”
With immaculate speed, a reply came in, and I opened it with slight hesitation.
“He was talking about this place that doesn’t exist. singing lyrics from our songs that didn’t exist. made every excuse in the world to not sleep. like a rebellious 5 year old and i didn’t know how to deal with it, theres a reason im not a parent, frank”
“Gerard, how about we go lie down, and we can talk and do stuff?” I suggested, placing my phone in my back pocket.
I don’t know if he didn’t hear me or if he didn’t know what to say or what the hell was going on, but he didn’t seem able to respond.
“Just take him.” Ray said, guiding him over to me and using one hand to signal a phone to his ear.
Call the police, someone’s taken Gerard.
But what if the perpetrator can’t be caught?
“Come on, Gee.” I smiled, leading him into the bedroom and lying him down on the bed.
“So. What now?” He asked expectantly.
“So…” I replied, pulling the blankets over him. “We’re gonna talk for a while.”
There ya go, Gerard. Always reminding me of logistics, even when you’re only half in this world with me.
“Remember when we first met?” I said, trying my best to find something, something to wear him out.
“Of course. We were the creeps who fucking stalked your band.”
“It was kinda flattering.” I laughed. “Having another band following us around all the time.”
“That’s a great lesson we’ve taught our fans. If you can’t get something, track it down and stalk the hell out of it until you do.” He said with a half-smile.
That’s the Gerard I know and really fucking love.
“What did you think of us? When you first met us?” He asked.
“I thought Ray was really chill and laid-back. Which turned out to be all-too true. I thought Mikey was really funny. Like he really needed a shot of anxiety meds or something. I thought you were…
Really damn cute
strong. I could see even back then that you were the glued that held My Chemical Romance together. You put your everything into it, and you still do.”
“Mikey probably did need a shot of anxiety meds.”
I laughed and shifted so that I was on my side, facing him.
“Do you remember what it was like on our first tour?”
“I remember it so well.” He sighed nostalgically. “Trapped in that shit van for hours, days at a time. But we were so drunk and stoned out on whatever we could get our hands on that it didn’t even matter if we were sleeping in our own piss.”
“Probably sleeping in each other’s piss, too.” I chuckled. “It’s changed. We’ve changed.”
He looked at me confusedly.
“We have a tour bus now, and the thing is like a house in itself. No more sleeping in piss.” I smiled. “And we’ve all sobered up a bit, you especially. Nobody does drugs anymore. The worst is behind us.”
I said that with such reassurance, and I don’t know how. Because I don’t feel it. Not anymore.
Gerard, I’m scared for you.
“You need to get some sleep.” I said.
“I slept great last night, no way.”
“Gee, you were awake until 4am, remember?”
He stared up at the ceiling, not saying a word.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“What were you talking about last night? Mikey said you were singing songs that weren’t ours, and-“
“You think I fucking remember? Frank I can’t even remember going to sleep last night.”
He sat up and his voice shook as he spoke.
“I barely even remember waking up this morning. I don’t know why the hell-“
“Gerard, Mikey wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t know either…”
“Mikey’s a fucking shitbag. Don’t listen to him, please.” He quivered.
I pulled out my phone under the covers and texted Ray:
Get in here, code I don’t know what the hell is wrong with Gerard
“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.
“Just sending a quick text.”
Ray, because he’s trying to get you help. He’s trying to get the old you back.
“What’s he saying?”
“I don’t know, we’re just talking.”
“He’s telling you things about me, isn’t he?”
He kicked the covers off the bed, stood up beside it, and walked backwards towards the door, like he was being cornered by the monster inside the closet.
The monster is inside him.
“No, he isn’t-“
“Bullshit. You’re just trying to defend him.”
“Why would I defend him, I’m on your side, Gerard!”
Ray knocked on the door.
“C-Come in!” I stuttered, blinking away tears.
“Gerard, let’s go for a drive, okay?” He said with an unnerving calmness.
“Why? Where?” Gerard panted and backed away defensively.
“Urgent meeting with the agency. One of our shows in the UK might be cancelled, so it’s possible that the whole tour after that will need to be rearranged. They need to talk to us ASAP.”
Ray texted me as we got into the taxi:
We’re going to the hospital to get some tests done.
He sat in the front seat with the driver, and Gerard and I got into the back.
“What about Mikey?” Gerard asked.
“I told them that he’s really tired and isn’t functioning well enough to attend.” Ray said from the front.
I feel beyond terrible for Gerard. The poor thing, not only is he going sort of insane, but now we’re forced to lie though our teeth to him. But it’s just like when he was killing himself with drugs and alcohol a few years ago. He wouldn’t have gotten better had we not watched him continuously, and practically forced him into rehab. We have to do this, to find out what the hell is wrong with him, and to do what it takes to get him better.
He hated us for getting him into rehab at first. But now, he says he owes his life to us. I know that’s the way it will end this time, so why do I still feel like my heart is going to drop right out of my fucking chest?
Because you don’t want to face up to the fact that there might really be something wrong with him, stupid.
The taxi driver pulled up the hospital, and the three of us got out.
“You guys are not fucking serious, are you?” Gerard laughed sarcastically, crossing his arms in front of him.
“We just want to get a few things checked.” I said.
“I’m not a damn lab rat! You don’t know shit and neither do the doctors.”
“Just cooperate, Gerard. Please.” Ray pleaded with him.
“You’re not thinking clearly. It’s like when you were on-“
“Don’t you dare bring that up. The only way that is even relevant is that I was fine last time, and I’ll be fine last time.” He interrupted me.
“You were fine last time because we pushed you and pushed you to go to rehab until you were so close to the brink of death that you didn’t have the energy to fight back.”
I took a deep breath and held the tears back.
He stood still for a minute, his eyes on the hospital; observing it, taking it in, and hopefully realizing that it’s the best place for him right now. At least until we know what’s going on and how we can fix it.
“Gerard…” I said softly. “Remember when we first met? How you were the strong one; the glue? Remember that?”
He nodded his head.
“We need you, and you can’t be that glue that we need the way you are right now.”
“A few tests. That’s it. I’m not staying in overnight.” He said with hesitation. “And if they try to stick a needle into me, I’m punching them in the fucking face.”