Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Rise/Fall Of Gerard Way
Okay, I knowww I've been working on the "last chapter" FOREVER, but it's still not done. How long as it been, like six months again? I'm SO sorry, I just want it to be perfect, or close to perfect. But I realize that it's been way too long, so I decided to post this. It's the first half of the last chapter. It's REALLY short compared to past chapters but I dunno, I just am very very tired of not posting...so I hope you guys are okay with waiting a bit more for the final final chapter.
Chapter 20 - Get Me To A Doctor
Gerard's ears popped as the airplane took off from the ground. When he was younger, he would always get a sense of great excitement when he was on a plane. He used to love that weird feeling of his insides sinking as his body kept rising. He used to stare out the window and smile at the view, even though he often got nauseous. Those were the days of childhood innocence and free lunches. Now, he was old and worn and he hated airplane rides. He hated all the overly polite flight attendants and he hated the shitty food they served. He hated that there were no good movies to watch and no good radio stations. He hated that he could hear the droning whirr of the engine if he leaned his head against the window. And what about the bathrooms? They smelled like shit! He hated everything about airplanes.
And most of all, he hated how ridiculously senile he was becoming.
He looked over to the seat next to him, where Mikey sat, twiddling his thumbs. In all honesty, Gerard wanted Frank to be sitting there, holding his hand. Instead, the short guitarist was in one of the rows behind them. It was definitely possible for them to switch places, but it would've been rude to tell Mikey that.
Mikey, however, didn't want to be there. He hated his goddamned luck; of course he had to be the one to tell Gerard to go see a therapist. It just had to work out that way. What was he supposed to say? He didn't want to hurt his brother in any way. The fact of the matter was that there was no possible way to make this sound okay, no euphemism for “Dude, you need a shrink.” There was no doubt that Gerard was going to either freak out or widen his eyes in that sad puppy-dog expression that Mikey hated to look at. However, it was for his own well being. As his brother, Mikey had to do this if he wanted his brother to be happy once again.
“Gerard...” Mikey gulped and looked his brother straight in the eye. He was just going to have to get this over with and he was going to have to sound at least a hundred times more confident than he felt. At the last minute his bravery faltered and his eyes fell to the floor. But still, he forced himself to speak, “Look, we all want you to get better, but there's only so much me and the guys can do, y'know? It's not just the drugs, bro, you seem pretty um...depressed. So, we were just thinking about it and it'd be great if you talked to someone else about it. Like, someone who knows how to get you out of this kind of...situation. I just want you to get better.”
Gerard was silent, his face blank as he processed what Mikey was trying to say. It was pretty obvious that his brother wanted him to see a shrink, but he didn't want to get to that conclusion. It was easier to simply think around it as one would walk around a puddle of muddy water.
After all, it was pretty fucking embarrassing that his own flesh and blood thought he was some sort of maniac who needed a therapist to help him function. Maybe he did. In a way, it was logical, but it still wasn't something Gerard wanted to take into consideration. It probably wasn't the right mentality, but he had always associated shrinks with schizophrenics and depressed people. Though some would beg to differ, Gerard didn't count himself as either of those.
Well, maybe he was a bit depressed. However, that didn't mean he needed some poker-faced doctor sitting across from him, taking notes on how he felt, analyzing every word he said and turning it into something totally different, taking it as some sort of symptom. Feelings meant nothing anyway; they were just chemical imbalances in the brain. They just happened to also run most people's lives. But Gerard was frankly sick of that. He was going to be a monk, meditate all day, until he reached some sort of nirvana-like stage. And and he wouldn't have any more problems and he'd be able to do nothing and everything at the same time.
Diverting his attention back to his brother, his train of thought went off the rails. Mikey's expression made something deep inside him crumble to pieces. And it sort of hurt, in a horribly unphysical way. He no longer knew what the hell he should think.
So he said the first word that came out of his mouth, “Oh.”
Mikey blinked a few times, expecting something more. When it became clear that Gerard had said everything he wished to say on the subject, the bassist bit down on his lip. He obviously wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea.
“Uh...so what do you think, Gee?” he prompted.
The singer shook his shaggy hair onto his forehead, as if he was trying to hide his face, and shrugged. Mikey managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes. They were glazed over with immense hurt. Mikey's stomach sank.
“Just think about it, okay? It's for your own good. Please, Gerard, just give it a shot. If it doesn't help, you can stop. And anyway, lots of people have therapists. ”
Yeah, lots of /crazy /people! Gerard was tempted to tell Mikey that he didn't need a shrink, he could get better on his own. However, his mouth felt too dry to even open. He merely nodded and turned around in his seat. His stomach was beginning to do cartwheels and there was no way on Earth he would allow himself to get sick. There was nothing more disgusting than vomiting into one of those paper bags. He decided that he'd just have to sleep it off.
When he pressed his head against the wall, he could hear the whir of the motor. ..of course. He let that act like some sort of monotonous lullaby and shut his eyes. He commanded his body to sleep. Nevertheless, he was unable to, largely due to thoughts of his brother's suggestion. A feeble voice in his head was nagging him to do the right thing. Fortunately, Gerard had plenty of experience; he knew how to completely ignore it.
The remainder of the flight was extremely awkward and unusually long. As the plane finally landed at Newark Liberty International Airport, Gerard was ready to run out of the stuffy vehicle and into a bathroom stall to throw up again. He forced himself to hold it in while following Mikey to meet up with the others near the luggage carousel. After showing off weak smiles at everyone and giving Frank an embarrassed kiss on the cheek, he excused himself to the bathroom. He briefly reminded himself to walk calmly and slowly, but by then, he was way too queasy to care whether or not the others saw him run.
His friends stared after him and exchanged another set of worried glances. It was quiet while they pretended to scan the carousel for their suitcases.
“So...” Ray broke the silence, “How'd it go, Mikey?
Mikey shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on his shoes. He felt a bit uneasy shifting the duty to someone else, but he knew that there was only one person who could talk Gerard into doing something as unpleasant as seeing a psychiatrist.
“Um, I dunno, he didn't really say much about it. He's obviously not very into the idea...I don't think I'm gonna be able to convince him. I think...I think someone else should try.” Upon saying this, Mikey looked directly at Frank.
The short guitarist took a while to get the hint, “What? Me?”
”Well, it makes sense,” Bob reasoned, “I mean he probably listens to you the most out of all of us.”
“But Mikey's his brother. I'm just like his...um...” Frank blushed, leaving his sentence incomplete.
“Well, a couple of nights ago, you managed to talk him out of drinking any more beer or getting high. I think you should give this a shot,” Mikey urged, “Please, Frank? It's for Gerard.”
Frank groaned and looked at the faces of each of his friends and realized that he had already lost the argument before it even began “Alright, fine! I'll do it. Just give me tonight.”
Bob giggled.
Ugh...I know, not as good as usual. How was it though? Rate/Review for me pleeeease.
Chapter 20 - Get Me To A Doctor
Gerard's ears popped as the airplane took off from the ground. When he was younger, he would always get a sense of great excitement when he was on a plane. He used to love that weird feeling of his insides sinking as his body kept rising. He used to stare out the window and smile at the view, even though he often got nauseous. Those were the days of childhood innocence and free lunches. Now, he was old and worn and he hated airplane rides. He hated all the overly polite flight attendants and he hated the shitty food they served. He hated that there were no good movies to watch and no good radio stations. He hated that he could hear the droning whirr of the engine if he leaned his head against the window. And what about the bathrooms? They smelled like shit! He hated everything about airplanes.
And most of all, he hated how ridiculously senile he was becoming.
He looked over to the seat next to him, where Mikey sat, twiddling his thumbs. In all honesty, Gerard wanted Frank to be sitting there, holding his hand. Instead, the short guitarist was in one of the rows behind them. It was definitely possible for them to switch places, but it would've been rude to tell Mikey that.
Mikey, however, didn't want to be there. He hated his goddamned luck; of course he had to be the one to tell Gerard to go see a therapist. It just had to work out that way. What was he supposed to say? He didn't want to hurt his brother in any way. The fact of the matter was that there was no possible way to make this sound okay, no euphemism for “Dude, you need a shrink.” There was no doubt that Gerard was going to either freak out or widen his eyes in that sad puppy-dog expression that Mikey hated to look at. However, it was for his own well being. As his brother, Mikey had to do this if he wanted his brother to be happy once again.
“Gerard...” Mikey gulped and looked his brother straight in the eye. He was just going to have to get this over with and he was going to have to sound at least a hundred times more confident than he felt. At the last minute his bravery faltered and his eyes fell to the floor. But still, he forced himself to speak, “Look, we all want you to get better, but there's only so much me and the guys can do, y'know? It's not just the drugs, bro, you seem pretty um...depressed. So, we were just thinking about it and it'd be great if you talked to someone else about it. Like, someone who knows how to get you out of this kind of...situation. I just want you to get better.”
Gerard was silent, his face blank as he processed what Mikey was trying to say. It was pretty obvious that his brother wanted him to see a shrink, but he didn't want to get to that conclusion. It was easier to simply think around it as one would walk around a puddle of muddy water.
After all, it was pretty fucking embarrassing that his own flesh and blood thought he was some sort of maniac who needed a therapist to help him function. Maybe he did. In a way, it was logical, but it still wasn't something Gerard wanted to take into consideration. It probably wasn't the right mentality, but he had always associated shrinks with schizophrenics and depressed people. Though some would beg to differ, Gerard didn't count himself as either of those.
Well, maybe he was a bit depressed. However, that didn't mean he needed some poker-faced doctor sitting across from him, taking notes on how he felt, analyzing every word he said and turning it into something totally different, taking it as some sort of symptom. Feelings meant nothing anyway; they were just chemical imbalances in the brain. They just happened to also run most people's lives. But Gerard was frankly sick of that. He was going to be a monk, meditate all day, until he reached some sort of nirvana-like stage. And and he wouldn't have any more problems and he'd be able to do nothing and everything at the same time.
Diverting his attention back to his brother, his train of thought went off the rails. Mikey's expression made something deep inside him crumble to pieces. And it sort of hurt, in a horribly unphysical way. He no longer knew what the hell he should think.
So he said the first word that came out of his mouth, “Oh.”
Mikey blinked a few times, expecting something more. When it became clear that Gerard had said everything he wished to say on the subject, the bassist bit down on his lip. He obviously wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea.
“Uh...so what do you think, Gee?” he prompted.
The singer shook his shaggy hair onto his forehead, as if he was trying to hide his face, and shrugged. Mikey managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes. They were glazed over with immense hurt. Mikey's stomach sank.
“Just think about it, okay? It's for your own good. Please, Gerard, just give it a shot. If it doesn't help, you can stop. And anyway, lots of people have therapists. ”
Yeah, lots of /crazy /people! Gerard was tempted to tell Mikey that he didn't need a shrink, he could get better on his own. However, his mouth felt too dry to even open. He merely nodded and turned around in his seat. His stomach was beginning to do cartwheels and there was no way on Earth he would allow himself to get sick. There was nothing more disgusting than vomiting into one of those paper bags. He decided that he'd just have to sleep it off.
When he pressed his head against the wall, he could hear the whir of the motor. ..of course. He let that act like some sort of monotonous lullaby and shut his eyes. He commanded his body to sleep. Nevertheless, he was unable to, largely due to thoughts of his brother's suggestion. A feeble voice in his head was nagging him to do the right thing. Fortunately, Gerard had plenty of experience; he knew how to completely ignore it.
The remainder of the flight was extremely awkward and unusually long. As the plane finally landed at Newark Liberty International Airport, Gerard was ready to run out of the stuffy vehicle and into a bathroom stall to throw up again. He forced himself to hold it in while following Mikey to meet up with the others near the luggage carousel. After showing off weak smiles at everyone and giving Frank an embarrassed kiss on the cheek, he excused himself to the bathroom. He briefly reminded himself to walk calmly and slowly, but by then, he was way too queasy to care whether or not the others saw him run.
His friends stared after him and exchanged another set of worried glances. It was quiet while they pretended to scan the carousel for their suitcases.
“So...” Ray broke the silence, “How'd it go, Mikey?
Mikey shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on his shoes. He felt a bit uneasy shifting the duty to someone else, but he knew that there was only one person who could talk Gerard into doing something as unpleasant as seeing a psychiatrist.
“Um, I dunno, he didn't really say much about it. He's obviously not very into the idea...I don't think I'm gonna be able to convince him. I think...I think someone else should try.” Upon saying this, Mikey looked directly at Frank.
The short guitarist took a while to get the hint, “What? Me?”
”Well, it makes sense,” Bob reasoned, “I mean he probably listens to you the most out of all of us.”
“But Mikey's his brother. I'm just like his...um...” Frank blushed, leaving his sentence incomplete.
“Well, a couple of nights ago, you managed to talk him out of drinking any more beer or getting high. I think you should give this a shot,” Mikey urged, “Please, Frank? It's for Gerard.”
Frank groaned and looked at the faces of each of his friends and realized that he had already lost the argument before it even began “Alright, fine! I'll do it. Just give me tonight.”
Bob giggled.
Ugh...I know, not as good as usual. How was it though? Rate/Review for me pleeeease.
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