Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
I really liked Saturdays.
On Saturdays, Mom and Dad go out to work, so Gerard has to stay home and look after me. I don't have to go to school, or even see another person. It's just me, and Gerard.
Today was a Saturday.
I crept across the hallway on the carpet, attempting not to make a sound. It was 9am, so not exactly early - but Gerard was still fast asleep, and would probably be for the next two hours. He usually slept in late, whereas I had woken up at 6 and lied there for three hours. It would be a little unfair to go into his room that early. I slipped through his door and shut it quietly behind me, before pulling back the covers slightly and squeezing in beside him. For a while he was completely out, his breathing deep and heavy. As he became more aware of his surroundings - and me - he moved back a little to allow me a little more room. He threw his arm over me and pulled me into him, my head now resting under his neck and on his chest. He was still asleep at this point, but whatever he was dreaming he was feeling very affectionate.
"Oh hey, Mika-michael-mikes.." He mumbled, half asleep and probably suffering with what he called a "hangover". He wouldn't explain it though. "How're you doing?" He asked, ruffling my hair with his fingers. I giggled and tucked my legs up in front of me.
"I'm okay. How're you?" I replied, poking him softly in the stomach. He smiled down at me lazily and laid his head back down on the pillow.
"To be honest Mikes, I'm a little run down," He sighed. He saw the worried look on my face and hugged me assuringly. "Hey, I'll be fine. I'll have the best little brother in the world taking care of me!" He grinned. I nodded in reply and cuddled into him, holding him protectively, despite being at least half his size.
He finally stirred again at least two hours later, waking with a coughing fit. He sat up straight away and nearly hacked his lungs out. I felt particularly useless, patting his back gently in a feeble attempt to make him better. Once he was finished he turned to me and smiled weakly, his illness or whatever had taken over him becoming apparent. His skin was pale and his forehead was sweaty. He sniffed and I hugged him.
"Would you like some food?" I asked. He nodded thoughtfully and let me bundle him in blankets, before leading him by the hand down the stairs to the sofa. I felt nice being the older, wiser one in the situation. It seemed like it was always me, crying, sniffing, being sick. He was stronger than I was.
I returned to him carrying a plate with toast in hand. I hadn't actually bothered to ask him what he wanted but I knew exactly what he liked. He took it from me greedily and ate it, acting as if he hadn't eaten in months. He nodded at me once he was finished and I took the plate from him, settling it on the floor.
He slept for hours and hours. I suppose this Saturday, we wouldn't be playing video games, reading comic books, playing guitars and listening to records. I simply sat, my back propped up against the sofa, my head resting gently against his hands. I could hear him moving slightly and sniffing in his sleep, but I didn't dare wake him. I knew how to look after people - sleep was important.
He woke up promptly 5 minutes later to warn me that he was about to vomit. I scrambled around for a bucket and placed it next to him, and turned away from him. I thought he was probably quite embarrassed and I didn't want to be cause of that. I didn't want to hear it and I wanted to leave - I felt humiliated that I inflicted this on Gerard at least once a month. I got so ill, so easy.
He lay back and rested his head on the pillow.
"I'm sorry Mikey. We were going to get your bass today, weren't we?" He croaked. To be perfectly honest, I'd forgotten about that. I was more interested in Gerard's well being.
"It's okay. Honest." I replied, placing my hand on his forehead and feeling for his temperature. He was hot, but decreasing from the high temperatures he was at earlier.
"How am I doing, Doc?" He joked, poking me weakly in the side. I laughed softly and tucked the blankets around him.
"You'll be okay in the morning, maybe in a day or two." I replied settling back down against the chair. Gerard tugged at my shoulders.
"Come up here." He asked, squeezing my shoulder.
"Are you sure?" I protested. He didn't want me up there. He's sick! Sure, when I was ill, I wanted hugs and cuddles and kisses and.. but.. that was me.
"Yes. Come here." He ordered weakly, as I scrabbled up onto the sofa and crawled under the blankets, tucked next to him. "Thankyou!" He squeaked in delight, though only gently.
"What would I do without you, ey?" He nudged me with his elbow and pushed himself down the sofa, snuggling his head against my neck and tangling his fingers in mine. I reciprocated him and wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead gently. He laughed softly, probably at the realization that for once, he was the little brother.
We lay there for the rest of the day.
Needless to say, the next weekend - I was very, very ill.
It was worth it.
----
so i thought i would write something mildly fluffy since i've been writing nothing but angst..
the usual angst schedule shall be returning, of course:')
On Saturdays, Mom and Dad go out to work, so Gerard has to stay home and look after me. I don't have to go to school, or even see another person. It's just me, and Gerard.
Today was a Saturday.
I crept across the hallway on the carpet, attempting not to make a sound. It was 9am, so not exactly early - but Gerard was still fast asleep, and would probably be for the next two hours. He usually slept in late, whereas I had woken up at 6 and lied there for three hours. It would be a little unfair to go into his room that early. I slipped through his door and shut it quietly behind me, before pulling back the covers slightly and squeezing in beside him. For a while he was completely out, his breathing deep and heavy. As he became more aware of his surroundings - and me - he moved back a little to allow me a little more room. He threw his arm over me and pulled me into him, my head now resting under his neck and on his chest. He was still asleep at this point, but whatever he was dreaming he was feeling very affectionate.
"Oh hey, Mika-michael-mikes.." He mumbled, half asleep and probably suffering with what he called a "hangover". He wouldn't explain it though. "How're you doing?" He asked, ruffling my hair with his fingers. I giggled and tucked my legs up in front of me.
"I'm okay. How're you?" I replied, poking him softly in the stomach. He smiled down at me lazily and laid his head back down on the pillow.
"To be honest Mikes, I'm a little run down," He sighed. He saw the worried look on my face and hugged me assuringly. "Hey, I'll be fine. I'll have the best little brother in the world taking care of me!" He grinned. I nodded in reply and cuddled into him, holding him protectively, despite being at least half his size.
He finally stirred again at least two hours later, waking with a coughing fit. He sat up straight away and nearly hacked his lungs out. I felt particularly useless, patting his back gently in a feeble attempt to make him better. Once he was finished he turned to me and smiled weakly, his illness or whatever had taken over him becoming apparent. His skin was pale and his forehead was sweaty. He sniffed and I hugged him.
"Would you like some food?" I asked. He nodded thoughtfully and let me bundle him in blankets, before leading him by the hand down the stairs to the sofa. I felt nice being the older, wiser one in the situation. It seemed like it was always me, crying, sniffing, being sick. He was stronger than I was.
I returned to him carrying a plate with toast in hand. I hadn't actually bothered to ask him what he wanted but I knew exactly what he liked. He took it from me greedily and ate it, acting as if he hadn't eaten in months. He nodded at me once he was finished and I took the plate from him, settling it on the floor.
He slept for hours and hours. I suppose this Saturday, we wouldn't be playing video games, reading comic books, playing guitars and listening to records. I simply sat, my back propped up against the sofa, my head resting gently against his hands. I could hear him moving slightly and sniffing in his sleep, but I didn't dare wake him. I knew how to look after people - sleep was important.
He woke up promptly 5 minutes later to warn me that he was about to vomit. I scrambled around for a bucket and placed it next to him, and turned away from him. I thought he was probably quite embarrassed and I didn't want to be cause of that. I didn't want to hear it and I wanted to leave - I felt humiliated that I inflicted this on Gerard at least once a month. I got so ill, so easy.
He lay back and rested his head on the pillow.
"I'm sorry Mikey. We were going to get your bass today, weren't we?" He croaked. To be perfectly honest, I'd forgotten about that. I was more interested in Gerard's well being.
"It's okay. Honest." I replied, placing my hand on his forehead and feeling for his temperature. He was hot, but decreasing from the high temperatures he was at earlier.
"How am I doing, Doc?" He joked, poking me weakly in the side. I laughed softly and tucked the blankets around him.
"You'll be okay in the morning, maybe in a day or two." I replied settling back down against the chair. Gerard tugged at my shoulders.
"Come up here." He asked, squeezing my shoulder.
"Are you sure?" I protested. He didn't want me up there. He's sick! Sure, when I was ill, I wanted hugs and cuddles and kisses and.. but.. that was me.
"Yes. Come here." He ordered weakly, as I scrabbled up onto the sofa and crawled under the blankets, tucked next to him. "Thankyou!" He squeaked in delight, though only gently.
"What would I do without you, ey?" He nudged me with his elbow and pushed himself down the sofa, snuggling his head against my neck and tangling his fingers in mine. I reciprocated him and wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead gently. He laughed softly, probably at the realization that for once, he was the little brother.
We lay there for the rest of the day.
Needless to say, the next weekend - I was very, very ill.
It was worth it.
----
so i thought i would write something mildly fluffy since i've been writing nothing but angst..
the usual angst schedule shall be returning, of course:')
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