FicWad

Gerard nervously shuffled up the staircase in a house he didn't recognize, yet he seemed to know where to go and turned left when he got to a dark hallway, pausing at the door in front of him as if deciding whether to go in or not. He raised a trembling hand to the doorknob and slowly turned it, leaning his shoulder against the door to push it open. His stomach lurched at the sight he was met with upon entering the room. A boy was sprawled on the bedroom floor, a dark red stain spattering the carpet around his unmoving body. Gerard's hand flew up to his mouth, stifling a cry of horror.

"Oh God…" he whispered. Though Gerard did not recognize the boy, he felt indescribable grief and heartbreak at the sight of him dying. He wailed in misery as he slumped to his knees, hands clawing at the carpet. The boy weakly turned his head toward Gerard and opened his mouth the tiniest bit. Gerard looked up at the movement, trying to get a glimpse of the boy's face. Whether it was his tears or his shock, he could not see clearly and his sight was all but a blur.

"Gerard…" The boy's voice was weak, his breathing labored. Tears dripped off his ghostly pale cheek one by one, mixing with the steadily growing pool of blood surrounding his body. Gerard impulsively reached out and took the boy's hand. "Gerard," he repeated. He fell silent for a while, and Gerard continued to stare at him through his bloodshot eyes. Just when Gerard was beginning to think the boy wasn't going say anything more, he heard the weak voice once again. "I'm sorry…" the boy whispered.

Suddenly, the boy gasped and his entire body tensed with a shudder. He tightened his grip on Gerard's hand, fingernails digging into his pale skin, and then his blood-stained body fell limp, the ghost of his final apology still lingering on his lips. Gerard began sobbing like a child as he collapsed on top of the boy's body, but then everything went dark and he was falling, falling…

"Gerard!"

Gerard jolted awake, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead and his bedsheets a tangled mess. Mikey was standing over Gerard in his pajamas, his brow scrunched slightly with worry. 

"He, he's dead, Mikey!" Gerard panted. "He-"

"Nobody's dead, Gerard." Mikey said firmly. "You were having a nightmare."

"It was terrible…" Gerard's eyes went slightly out of focus as he revisited his nightmare. "He was lying there, covered in blood, a-and then he said he was sorry, and I just, I couldn't do anything…"

"Who?" Mikey asked in exasperation. "Was it someone you know?"

"No, no, I don't know who it was, but I just felt so fucking bad! I was just sitting right there while he was dying and I couldn't do anything!"

"Gerard, it was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything. Just forget about it! And besides, it wasn't even someone you knew. Try and get some sleep. We start school in two days and you're gonna need the rest." Mikey turned around and sleepily shuffled out of Gerard's bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Gerard tried to fall asleep, but little to his surprise he found he couldn't. Lately it seemed like Mikey was the older brother, the way he was the usually the one comforting Gerard whenever something happened. Gerard sat up and thought about what Mikey had said about his nightmare being "just a dream" and asked himself if the dream maybe did mean something. He could not see how a nightmare this vivid and realistic could be completely insignificant, unless he was going crazy.

'But you already are crazy.' 

There it was again. That irritating little voice. Gerard clenched his teeth as he pushed a damp strand of hair out of his face. As much as he hated the mere sight of his so-called "doctor," he was going to have to tell him about this. He decided that when he went to go see him tomorrow, he would ask Joseph if maybe there was a medication that would make the voice shut up and also if his nightmare had any meaning. 


~


"I'm sorry Gerard, but there's nothing much I could do to make the voice go away. You see, the voice is actually your inner conflicts, you doubting yourself, arguing with yourself."

"I've figured that out myself." Gerard snapped. "You aren't helping me very much, you know. And what about my nightmare?"

Joseph willed himself to be patient with the frustrated boy. "As I said, I can't tell you that your dreams actually mean anything unless they are recurring in some way or another, and only then can I determine its significance and what is causing you to have that particular dream. Do you have anything else you would like to ask me?"

"Yeah. Are you sure you can't make a change to my meds so that I stop hearing the voice?"

Joseph sighed in exasperation. "Gerard, pills cannot fix all of your problems. There are some things that you need to take the time and effort to deal with yourself, and this is one of them.  No matter how many questions I ask you or how much I try to see what you're thinking, you are the only one who will know your true thoughts and therefore you are the only one who can solve this problem. You need to find a way to stop discrediting yourself and have some self-confidence. And maybe that's what you should work on. Rather than tearing your hair out trying to get that little voice to shut up, maybe you should try working on boosting your confidence."

"Alright! I get the point, mister. I'm a loser, I can't do anything for myself, I've heard it all before. But how the hell am I supposed to do it? It's not like I'm gonna wake up one day and look in the mirror and suddenly say, You know what, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me!" Gerard's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Oh no, I'm perfectly normal, just like everybody else! It's not like I'm mentally fucked up or anything." By this time Gerard was sweating and breathing heavily with annoyance and resentment for the man who was supposed to be helping him, but it seemed to Gerard that all he was doing was pissing him off and raising his blood pressure. 

"You know what, Gerard? I think that's enough for today. You may leave now."

Gerard huffed and stalked out of Joseph's office into the waiting room where his mother was reading a magazine. She looked up at the sound of the door slamming shut and put her magazine down. 

"Let's go Mom." 

"Are you okay Gerard? You look…stressed."

"I'll explain later. Please just get me out of this place." Gerard said impatiently. 

Donna grabbed her purse and hurriedly followed Gerard out the automatic doors into the parking lot. Gerard noticed for the first time how many cars there were, and how it had always seemed to him like it was just him and his mother, occasionally Mikey, and Joseph and the desk lady in the large grey building. It dawned on him that there were many other people here with problems like his, and probably many other frustrating therapists. 

When they arrived home Gerard immediately went upstairs and told Mikey that he wanted to go to Nicholson's. Mikey got dressed quickly and they went out to start the walk to the music store. Several minutes later they were greeted by the sound of jingle bells and the usual cheery smile of Mr. Nicholson. 

"Hello boys! How're you doing?"

"Been better." Gerard replied sulkily. "Well actually, I decided to come here thinking it might cheer me up a little."

"I see. Is there something you'd like to talk about? It's perfectly alright if you don't want to."

Gerard could tell by looking at his eyes that the man was genuinely concerned. "You know what, I'd like that. I wouldn't mind talking about it, seeing as Joseph doesn't seem to want to listen."

"Who is Joseph?"

"Oh, er…"

"Joseph is his therapist." Mikey explained. He knew that Gerard must be finding it a bit uncomfortable to talk about something this personal to someone he had only met recently. 

Gerard saw that the man was confused. "Well Mr-I mean David, a little while ago, my mom and Mikey noticed I wasn't quite acting like myself."

Mikey nodded in agreement. 

"So my mom took me to see this doctor guy, Joseph, and after he talked to me and asked me some questions, he said I have something called identi-wait, no, dice-uh…" Gerard glanced at Mikey for help. He only shrugged. 

"Well, he said I have some sort of mental disorder. Apparently what happens is that different personalities will come out of me, so it's like I'm randomly acting like a completely different person. It doesn't really sound that bad at first, but the thing is I have know idea when it's happening so technically, I can do something really crazy like murder someone and I wouldn't remember any of it."

"Oh…" David wrinkled his forehead in concern for the boy. "I am very sorry to hear that. I'll always be here if you ever feel like talking, remember that. So just hang in there. Even if you can't make it go away, you can at least make it better, right?"

"I guess so." Gerard gave him a wry smile. "Hey David, I think you're more helpful to me than any therapist or doctor would ever be."

David chuckled. "Aw, shucks. I just wouldn't want a great kid like you to be all upset and heavy-hearted all the time. And you too, Mikey. I'd do anything to make sure that you boys are happy."

"Thanks David." Gerard and Mikey replied. 

"It really means a lot to us."

"My pleasure. You up to trying out the guitar today?"

Gerard hesitated. "Um, if it were another day I would definitely say yes but I'm not really in the mood right now. Sorry." 

"Eh, that's alright. Just let me know whenever you feel like it. Ain't like I got much else to do around here. Usually just a few of my older customers coming in to get a few repairs or the like. Used to be that I was pretty busy giving lessons to kids like you but, you know, things have changed." 

Gerard and Mikey remained silent and simply nodded in agreement. 

"Hey…vacation's just about over now, isn't it?"

"Yeah. School starts tomorrow." Gerard's heart sank at the realization that today was the last day of vacation. Tomorrow he and Mikey would have to go to school and sit in classes where they knew nobody and nobody knew them. 

"Figures." muttered David. "I haven't seen those other two boys in a while. Maybe you'll see Raymond at school. What grade are you in, Gerard?"

"I'm a senior."

"So he is in your grade. Well, if you meet a tall boy with glasses and curly hair, tell him I said hello."

"I will." Gerard hoped to himself that this Raymond boy was nice; he really didn't want be trying to talk to another Parker and have things end up like last time. 

David turned to Mikey. "Your brother's a senior, so you must be a freshman, am I right?"

Mikey nodded. "Now that I think about it, starting a new school isn't that bad for me, seeing as I've only gone to my old one for a few months."

"Yeah, but I've gone to our old school for nearly four years. You should think of yourself as lucky." Gerard said. 

"I know."

"Crap. Mom must be wondering where we've gone. I forgot to tell her we were leaving."

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Well in that case we really need to go home. Sorry David, we'd stay longer but, you know. Mom's probably gonna have a fit when we get home."

David laughed as Gerard and Mikey got up to leave. "Can't do anything about that, I suppose. Get lots of sleep. You'll need it for school."

Gerard turned and grinned. "No promises."

As Gerard and Mikey walked home, feet getting soaked by the puddles on the grey pavement, they passed by a small group of sniggering boys. 

"Fags!" one of them called out. The rest of the group giggled as if they were a bunch of overgrown schoolgirls who had been injected with a little extra testosterone. 

Gerard and Mikey ignored them, just like the way they always did when Parker would say something rude. 

"We're not even fucking at school yet." Gerard grumbled. 

Tomorrow was not going to be fun. 


A/N
Yay, more rambling. I never said you guys had to read my notes but it's your choice. I feel like ficwadders or ficwaddians, whichever you like better, are the only people that I can really relate to. I dunno why, but there's like nobody at my school that shares similar interests with me. I mean, occasionally you'll see someone saying they like mcr but then the only song they know is Sing. I finally got a chance to get the Misfits shirt I'd wanted. Last time they didn't have my size in stock so I was really pissed. Notice how I said I got a chance to get the shirt. I never said I actually got it. Here's a short version of what happened.

Me: YAY they actually have the shirt in small this time! grabs shirt
My mom: There's no way I'm letting you buy that. 
Me: uh, why not? 0.o
My mom: It's black. 
Me: So? (please note that my mom was wearing a black shirt at the time.)
My mom: There's a skull on it.
Me: I'm not blind. Can I please get it?
My mom: No. 
Me: looks down at the iron maiden shirt I'm wearing There's a skull on my shirt right now. 
My mom: starts saying random shit
Me: What does Harry Potter have to do with this? grabs a black MCR shirt Can I have this one?
My mom: Yeah. 

*WTF. She might not understand my passion for the Misfits but at least she knows who My Chemical Romance is. Floor tickets to see them in October bitches!!! I hope my little sister doesn't get trampled…But that's still ages away. I should be focusing on my summer work for AP World History and Honors English, which I'm not even close to being done with and school starts August 15. I got a pretty weird idea for a story a couple days ago, but I won't say much about it until I'm sure about what I want to do. I'm just gonna say it does not take place in this time period. You can guess in the reviews which century it's gonna take place in. Whoever gets it right gets a virtual hug. Or cookies, whichever you prefer. You only get three tries to get it right. I'm sorry I write such long notes >_