FicWad

Brian rubbed his eyes and checked his watch as he headed for the telephone and its incessant ringing that had dragged him unwillingly from the best night’s sleep he had enjoyed all week. It had been a very long week. There had been interview cancellations, statements to make, relationships to be mended, incidents to smooth over and a doctor called out more than once. Gerard had become a real handful. His drinking and drug abuse had reached the point where it was more than a nuisance or an embarrassment; it was endangering the future of the band and even his very life. This night, there had been no incidents thus far. He had spoken to Frank earlier in the night and he had informed him that Gerard had already passed out and had been placed on his bunk face down, just in case. The guitarist sounded philosophical, but Brian could tell from his tone that he was suffering through it all; they all were - just trying to get from one day to the next and try to hold everything together.
It was three thirty and the phone was ringing; something was wrong.

“Hello?” he said as he lifted the receiver.
“Brian?” the slurred voice greeted him.
“Gerard?” Brian replied with surprise. “I didn’t expect it to be you.”
“No,” Gerard grumbled in return. “You expected it to be about me.”
“It has been, lately,” he agreed.
“Yeah, well,” the singer took a deep breath. “Not any more.”
“What’s going to change, Gerard?” Brian asked pointedly, hoping the answer was as obvious to Gerard as it was to them all.
“I know what you think of me,” he mumbled almost incoherently. “What you all think, and I’m not gonna say I don’t deserve it. I can’t keep letting people down.”
“Gee, we’re worried about you,” Brian cut in. “You’re killing yourself.”
Gerard laughed bitterly. “Oh, you have no idea!”
“What does that mean?
“It means that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
Brian paused momentarily; he had to think and he had to do it fast.
“Where are you, Gerard?”
“Why?” Gerard frowned. “So you can find me and drag me off to rehab or a psychiatrist?”
“No,” Brian replied calmly. “Sounds to me like you want to talk and I want to make sure you’re comfortable and won’t be disturbed.”
“Oh,” Gerard paused as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m just ringing to let you know, I thought it was fair.”
“You can’t just let me know, Gee, you have to tell me why.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that!” Gerard’s pitch rose as he became increasingly agitated. “You know I’m a total screw up! Well guess what? I fucking know it too!”
“What else?”
“What?” he cried pushing his hand through his hair and closing his eyes tightly. “That’s not enough?”
“No, it’s not,” Brian replied sternly. “But even if it were, what’s different about tonight?”
“What the fu…”
“Something’s made you want to give up. What was it? Why now?”
Gerard rubbed his eyes; all the toxins racing in his blood stream made it hard for him to concentrate.
“What?” he sighed heavily his voice almost fading to a pitiful whisper.
“Talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not fucking thinking! Don’t you get it?” he snapped. “We did a show tonight; I don’t even remember it! I only know we had one because I’m covered in make up and sweat!”
“Go on,” Brian encouraged.
There was a long pause during which Brian could almost hear the tension building in the back of Gerard’s throat as he tried to fight back the lump that threatened to choke him.
“I’m losing it, Brian!” he finally gasped, tears rolling down his pale cheeks, still caked in white make up. “I don’t know who I am any more. I gotta drink to be ‘Stage Gerard’ but it’s gone too far, I want to stop but I can’t because I don’t remember how to be me without it!”
Rubbing away the tears with his sleeve, smearing the white and black across his cheeks, he sobbed uncontrollably into the phone. “And don’t tell me to fight it because I can’t. I’ve had enough and I can’t and… and…”
“Gerard,” Brian spoke softly. “Gerard, listen to me! Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” he whispered with a catch in his throat.
“I’m not going to tell you to fight it, or to pull yourself together. But I want you to answer a question.”
“What?” he replied, his voice hoarse from the strain of holding back his emotions.
“When Mikey was a kid, did he ever come to you for help?”
“What?”
“Just… just answer me.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“Did you think he was weak?”
“No, of course not!”
“Why do you think you are?”
“I…” Gerard hesitated. “Do you call this coping?”
“No,” Brian agreed. “A cry for help, maybe.”
“No! I just… oh, fuck!”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” Gerard shook his head. “It’s like I feel really small, and I’m getting smaller by the day and one day, there’ll be nothing left of me. I don’t want to get to that point.” His voice cracked as he reached the end of the sentence.
“Gee, I want you to take a deep breath,” Brian paused as he heard Gerard inhale deeply. “Now, let it out, really slowly. Concentrate just on breathing, very, very slowly.”
Brian listened as Gerard’s shaky breaths settled slowly.
“Now listen,” he began firmly, “you’ve opened yourself up and told me things that you couldn’t have done without the courage to face them. The scariest but bravest thing anyone can do is to put themselves out into the public domain; open to criticism and scrutiny by people who don’t always care if what they say or do will hurt. You’ve done that, and now you’ve bared your soul to me at your lowest point. Gee, if you can do that, you can do anything. You can get past this, but only if you believe you can and if you let us help you. Will you let us help?”
Brian waited, holding his breath, during the agonising pause.
“I’m scared, Brian.” Gerard’s voice shook with uncertainty. “What if I can’t do it?”
“You can,” Brian spoke with absolute conviction. “You did before all this started, didn’t you? You can again.”
“But…”
“You can!” Brian insisted. “You have to believe that. We do!”
“Okay, yeah” Gerard replied shakily as he pushed the hair from his eyes. “Yeah, I can do this.”

Gerard’s tone remained shaky as he tried to address his insecurities and deepest fears but something in his voice told Brian that he had turned and pulled back from the edge of the abyss. Brian closed his eyes; exhausted but relieved, praying that his was really the turning point it seemed to be. Only time would tell.