FicWad

Gerard Well, we got roommates. That is, if we were mentally sound enough to. The kid that I was stuck with had paranoid schizophrenia and I get he can't really help it but, holy shit he was scary.

At times he was calm and a pretty neat guy, he'd talk to me about comic books and art, which were two of my top favorite things. Others, he would be in a corner, hugging his knees and murmuring in some creepy made-up language, you know, like the ones in horror movies.

I don't hate him or anything, I just really would rather not room with him.

You know, the kid jerking it and the kid staring into my soul seemed like less dangerous options in my opinion.

But that's whatever I guess.

Frank was really cool, he was a lot like myself. He just wanted to get better and stop hating himself so much.

Though, I really don't get how he could hate himself, he is violently attractive, he's fun and small and just a lot of things that I wish I was.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling at the moment. My roommate, Jace, off with some doctors for an evaluation. There's a hurried tap on my door and it's thrown open before I even get a chance to say ‘ come in ’.

“I hate my roommate! I hate him so much!” Frank starts to shout, he's fuming with anger.

“Whoa.” I sit, “Deep breaths, Frank. It'll be alright.” I stare with wide-eyes by his outburst.

“Gerard, I'm gonna kill the little fucker!” He growls lowly.

“Dude we've been here for like a day.” I squint at him, “How could you already hate him?”

“That little motherfucker is touching my shit and breaking things and yelling and-... And… Agh!” He throws himself onto my bed, “Stupid psycho.” Frank grumbles, the red anger in his face draining after a moment or so.

“You okay, little dude?” I push hair out of his face.

“Shut up, chicken leg.” He grumbles about his height.

“Chicken leg?” I crush my brows together.

He squeezes my thigh, “Yeah, see.” He says, “Skinny like a chicken leg.”

I punch him in the shoulder and he laughs, “But I mean, at least I can fix the problem of having chicken legs, you can't do shit about being like half an inch tall.” I retort and his grin turns to a scowl.

“Shut up you nit.” He mutters, defeatedly.

“What? Are you British now?” I tease.

“Yes, I am.” He mocks an accent that is nowhere near British.

I roll my eyes with a grin, “You idiot.” I give him a nudge and he smiles at me.

“I know.” He looks at me with big hazel eyes. Well, if they even could be considered that. It was more like a (very beautiful) form of heterochromia. He had a central version, which was gorgeous, there was this golden/honey brown that wrapped around the iris of his eyes and bled into a murky green color, gorgeous nonetheless, and then there was a deep brown-like, green-ish blue ring around the outer edge that made the rest of the colors burst, exploding to life.

I am brought back from my staring when he waves his hand in front of my face, “Hello, earth to the alien boy?” He drones and I seem to snap back into the real world.

“Shit,  sorry.” I shake my head and rub the back of my neck.

“You were staring.” He points out.

“I know, I do that a lot by accident.” I tell him, it's not fully the truth. Usually when I stare, it's not at a person right before me, it's at a blank wall or the sky or something, you know? Not directly into some handsome kid’s eyes.

“I can tell.” He chuckles, “You should let me be your roommate.” Frank looks up at me. At first I think he's joking and snort at him, quickly realizing that he was, in fact, being very serious.

“Oh, well, I already have one. He's going for a psych evaluation right now or something like that.” I explain and Frank stares at me for a long while. I don't think he believes me at first, denial from the fact that he has very low self esteem and a depression much like mine, one that tells you that people just say things to be nice to you but don't really mean it.

“Oh.” He mumbles and sits. I gently touch his shoulder.

“I'd prefer you as a roommate as well, Frank.” I give him a genuine smile and he looks at me with a confused stare for a moment before letting a smile take over, seeing that I wasn't lying.

“Thank you.” He grins, taking my hand for a second and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“No, don't thank me.” I shake my head and he just smiles at me before hopping off of my bed.

“I've got therapy in like, ten minutes… Let's have dinner together?” Frank sounds like he's prepared to be shot down.

“Sounds like a plan, and thanks for reminding me that I have to go too, I need to talk to a nutritionist about my eating disorder.” I stand also.

“Good, you need to get some meat on them bones, chicken leg.” He punches my arm lightly, “But seriously, I know this probably means nothing as we've known each other for like a day, but I'm really proud of you, for getting help, you know?” His face flushes red.

Tears well in my eyes, nobody had said they were proud of me, not even my brother, “Thank you… Like, so, so much, Frank.” I toss an arm over his shoulder, giving him an awkward side-hug.

“Oh wow, are you crying?” He asks, looking up at my face.

“Nobody has ever been proud of me before…” I rub at my eyes.

“What?” Frank looks somewhat appalled by my statement.

“I'll explain soon, you better get to therapy! I have to go get information on how to fix myself.” I say proud of myself for once, it's all thanks to Frank.

“Okay. I'll be watching to make sure you eat tonight.” He taps my side, “And that you don't throw it back up.”

I grin, “Bye Frank.” We head in opposite directions.

Slowly, I make my way down to the nutritionist’s office, having to ask a few people how to get there.

I get there and am taken right in. An older man is sat in the chair before me and he points at the cozy-looking chair near him, “Hello, Gerard, come, sit.” He sounds warm and friendly.

“Hi…” I hum anxiety rearing it's ugly head at me as I sit.

“No need to be nervous, we're going to make you feel better, Gerard.” He says and that calms me down.

“Thanks.” I give a small smile.

“I'm Carson Jamie. You can call me whatever you want as long as you don't call me Dr. Jamie, that's too professional for me.” He beams and I nod softly.

“Okay, I guess I'll just call you Carson?” I mutter, unsure of myself.

“That sounds good to me!” He is too over enthusiastic, “So you have anorexia, Yes?”

“Well, I do binge and purge quite often so I'm not sure whether I'm anorexic or bulimic.” I reply.

“You can have both, they usually just categorize it as anorexia either way.” He shrugs, “I also hear you have some pretty severe depressive episodes, you've gone so far as to take your own life before, correct?”

“Uh, yeah… Three, maybe four times? Can't remember.” I bite my lip, scratching at a burn mark on my arm.

“Hmm, are you on any medication for it?” Carson asks yet another question.

“Um, yeah, well… I was, they refused to refill my prescription because my doctor wouldn’t sign a note or whatever they have to sign to allow you to get medication.” I frown, “They never helped anyway.”

“How long were you on them?”

“Six months maybe? I just got worse. Those meds make me not myself anymore. I don’t like them.” I shake my head.

“Some medications are too strong, that’s like people with schizophrenia, many don’t like the medications because some just dull everything for them.” Carson nods.

“That’s exactly what happens to me. I just feel like I’m watching myself do these things that I’m not trying to do, things that I don’t want, like… Like I don’t have control.” I feel tears prick at my eyes, “It feels like I’m just sitting and staring at somebody do tedious things, day after day and I can’t escape…” I shake my head more, never had I ever said this to anybody but Mikey. I love my brother but, he just doesn’t get it.

“That’s what happens to certain people, what were you taking?”

“Oh, umm… I think it was called, Lexapro?” I strain to remember.

Carson scribbles some things down on his clipboard, “... Okay, so…” He glances over his notes, “I think we’ll start you on Luvox for now and if it makes you feel like that again you can let me know and we’ll put you on something else. How does that sound?”

I think for a second, remembering how fucking terrifying it was to take the Lexapro, I start to shake my head, “I-... I don’t think I can do that again.” I stutter, hands shaky.

“Don’t worry, Gerard, you don’t have to suffer with that feeling for months this time, we try it and see the effects after a few days, you know, once they start to kick in and all and if you don’t like the way you feel, we can stop them immediately.” He places a hand on my knee, “You don’t have to worry, I want to make you feel better, Gerard.”

I sit and think hard, “What about my eating problem?” I wonder. That’s why I was down here.

“We have to start with the depression because that is a huge factor to why you feel like you have to eat in such an unhealthy way.” He explains, “Though, we will be monitoring you while you eat. We’re going to try and do at least three small meals a day and work our way up from there.” He tells me and I let out a breath.

“Okay… I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Don’t be afraid to not succeed at first, it’ll take a while.” He comforts me.

“But, I just… Food makes me sick to my stomach, I can barely think about eating without getting a weird sick feeling and a head ache.” I feel honestly ashamed of myself for letting it get this bad.

“That’s okay. I want you to make out a list tonight of all the foods that you love, your favorites. Like, for example, something that doesn’t make you feel sick if you eat a little of it.” Carson tells me, “And then, I want you to give it to me when you finish and we’ll try and get you all of that stuff for your meals, that usually helps slowly guiding people back into eating, at least a little something every day.”

I nod, “I think I can try that… It’s going to be a short list, but I’ll try my hardest.” I want to get better. I don’t want to be sick anymore.

“That’s the spirit!” He cheers, “Okay, so now that we have the food things out of the way, the medication. We are going to have you on very small doses so that, that horrible feeling doesn’t hit you like a brick all at once, it will gradually start to set in, if it does at all.” He says, “The moment you start feeling off, out of control or uncomfortable you come right to me and I will take you off of it faster than you can say your name.”  He smiles and I feel like I can do it. I feel safe for once.

“Okay.” I slowly start to nod, “I’ll do it, I’ll take the meds.”

“I’m really proud of you, Gerard! It usually takes days and even weeks of fighting with patients to even tell me what’s wrong. You really do want to be better and I promise I’ll make sure you get there.” He stands and I follow suit, “We’ll be starting you on the medication tonight right before bed, you take a half a pill before going to sleep and the other half when you get up, that alright with you?”

I nod for the millionth time, “Thank you.” I speak and he ruffles my hair.

“Listen, I know that you probably won’t be able to eat much at dinner since we just started treatment today, so I’ll make sure to not hassle you about how much you ate and kept down. I do expect you to eat something though.” He grins softly at me.

“I promise I’ll try and eat. Frank will make me eat at least something.” I laugh, more to myself than anything.

“Frank? Is he the boy with the P.T.S.D. and quite a few other illnesses?” Ask the doctor and I instantly become confused.

“Well, I’m not sure. We just met but he’s quite charming.” I reply. I was now intrigued.

“Okay, Gerard, you need to go eat, you know where the cafeteria is, yes?” He asks me and I inform him at I do and thank him before heading to have dinner.

I enter the cafeteria and am instantly overwhelmed by the groups of people. I panic for a bit before I hear my name being called, “Hey, Gerard! You’re late!” I feel arms fly around me as Frank throws himself on me, almost knocking me down.

“Jesus, Frank!” I laugh, “How’d it go?” I ask him and he beams at me.

“It was good! I got to talk about stuff I’ve been needing to get off my chest for a long time!” He squeezes my small form, “I missed you!” He cheers. This kid has no boundries and I kind of love it.

“Missed you too, lil dude.” I ruffle his hair, “I’m glad it want well though! They’re putting me on meds starting to night, hopefully that will help me start to feel better. They’re also gonna be regulating my meals.” I say and he lets me go.

“Yay! Healthy Gee is a good Gee.” He grabs my arm and pulls me to the dinner line. Not many people were left in it.

I just grab a sandwich that I’m probably not going to be eating and an apple that I would attempt to eat. Frank pulls me to a table, of which, is barren.

He sits across from me and starts to eat some pasta from the kitchen, which, actually looks kind of appealing. I take a small bite of my apple, it’s sweet. Frank looks up at me with his pretty eyes shining.

“Hey, look, you’re doing a good.” He says, sounding stupid, though it was so fucking cute the way he said it though.

“You’re a brat.” I chuckle softly.

“So, Gee… I know it’s none of my business but, like, what made you want to come in here? Other than wanting to get better, I mean.”

“Oh, well… I can barely think about food without getting sick and I can’t really keep much of anything down and now I don’t like how scrawny I look now but I can’t fix it. I also was starting to get really bad thoughts again and just knew it was time…” I sigh.

“Oh… I really wish that I had been as strong as you.” He shakes his head.

“You’re strong in your own ways.” I say and he shakes his head.

“Gerard, I am definitely not strong. I tried to kill myself and ended up here and I don’t want to live and I want to stop reliving everything and stop feeling the pain and regretting my every move. I am not strong.” He hands his head, “Physically? Yes, I am. Mentally? No way in hell.”

I reach over and touch his hand and he flinches back, “Sorry.” I say, “But, you are strong. Frankie, I tried to kill myself too many times and you still think I’m strong.”

He shakes his head again, “You wouldn’t get it.” He goes to stand.

“Frank, no. I’m sorry, I won’t push it anymore.” I grab his wrist and he rips it back.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m just not hungry anymore.” He grumbles, “I think I’m gonna go to bed.” He picks up his tray, his hands trembling so hard that he drops it.

I watch his frustration grow as he tries more than three times but he just can’t function suddenly, “Fuck!” He yells and drops back to the chair and placing his face into his hands.

I’m not sure what to do, he seemed to not want me to touch him.

“Frankie?” I hum and he looks up at me, he’s a complete wreck, “Are you okay? Do you want me to get somebody?” I ask.

“No. Just-... It’s just a bad memory.” His voice trembles.

“Frank, I’m going to get Dr. James.” I stand and he grabs my wrist, tight within his trembling fingers.

“No. Gerard, please.” He begs so weakly it hurts me, “I can’t bear to talk about it, I just can’t right now.” Frank’s pleading eyes make me sit back down.

“Okay, I won’t get anybody, can I at least walk you to your room to make sure you’re safe?” I watch him solemnly.

“I can’t stay with that fucking crazy.” He shakes his head, “Can you just walk around with me? Please?” He begs and I agree.

|||

His arm brushes against mine as we walk, he seems to be much calmer after a while. He’s making small talk with me, it’s mostly just nothingness, stupid things that weren’t important. He seriously is ill, I feel bad, I didn’t think that he was that bad and he even says that was a mild episode. It’s scary to think that he’s had worse and I feel awful for him.

“Hey, Frank?” I may have interrupted him rambling but I wasn’t sure.

“Uh… Yeah?” He glances at me sideways.

“I promise to stick by you.” I say. It’s random but I feel it needs to be said.

“What?” He narrows his brow.

“I promise that I won’t leave you, like, I’m here for you.” I assure, “I swear that I’ll cheer you on forever.” Saying this after knowing someone for probably close to a day and a half was not the most reasonable thing.

“Thank you, Gerard.” His cheeks are pink, “That means a lot… I’ll be cheering you on too.” He grins and turns to look at his feet as we walk.

“Let’s get you to bed.”