A Silent Scream *MCR fanfic*

11

Over the past half a month, I'd practically moved into Gerard's house. I suppose I should say Donna's house, but I'm so accustomed to calling it Gerard's. Mikey and I have talked only a few times since our uncomfortable but hopeful agreement to become friends. I suppose I should've seen that coming, as I'd broken his heart and he'd broken my arm. Excluding the occasional awkward instances, I felt more alive now that I ever had before. I was nearly constantly happy, and when I happened to be hit hard with a sudden bout of depression, the family was understanding and accepting.

I'd gotten beaten up again, but it wasn't as bad as the first time, which had in fact left a scar along my cheek. I'd been able to get home by myself, and Donna had just nodded sadly and gotten me some ice cream. Everything was good and interesting.

***

An ice-cold, sharp voice resonated throughout the house, rousing me from my sleep. Instantly I recognized the voice as Donna's,

"What the hell Gerard?! What the fuck is this?"

"Those would be my medications." Gerard sounded furious. Not the anger where you want to cry, but when you're borderline murderous. His voice was flat, smooth, emotionless.

"I am not in the mood for your sarcastic bullshit! Why are your medications not being taken? How long have you been lying to me? And Mikey?"

"If by that you mean how long have I been refusing to take my medications and hiding them, then the answer would be about half a month. But I haven't been lying. I have never told you that I am actually taking my medications."

I vaguely heard her slap him.

"You have been putting all of us in danger, including yourself! Are you really willing to sacrifice me, Mikey, and Skye just because you don't fucking feel like swallowing a few pills a day?"

"Ten. Ten pills a day. Not a few. That's a lot, and you know it. Besides, I haven't been putting you in danger. I've been taking the important ones. By the way, Skye's been awake for awhile now. She's listening."

"And I should believe you why, Gerard? Why?"

"About her being awake, or about taking the important meds?"

"I know she's awake, what about the meds Gerard?"

"If you know she's awake, why aren't you helping me with this anymore? You know I don't wan-"

"Because I don't give a shit what you want Gerard! Not right now! When you aren't taking any of your medications! I couldn't care less that you don't want her to know how fucked up you are!Your wishes are not important right now." Since they already know I'm awake, I decide it's okay to go down, as it's possible I could help.

As soon as I was down, they're silent, and I asked awkwardly,

"So...what exactly-"

"Is wrong with me? I'm an anxiety-ridden, OCD, depressed, ex-addict, schizophrenic, compulsive liar with anger issues. How are you?" Not knowing how to respond, I wrap my arms around him and burrow my head into his chest.

"Why are you hugging me? Shouldn't you be running in the opposite direction screaming bloody murder?"

"Becuase you truly thought that I'd care. So much so that you hid a part of yourself from me." His arms wrapped around me, and I realized that Donna was tapping her foot rather impatiently, and glaring at us. I pulled out of the hug and heard myself saying,

"But just because I don't hate your weaker side, doesn't mean that you get to ignore it. Becuase that's when it gets powerful. And I'm pretty sure everyone here prefers Gerard to his problems." He gives me half a smile, then goes upstairs, returning with five pills in hand.

He brought them up to his mouth, then threw them in my face. Before I could react, he was out the front door. Donna and I both knew better than to run after him. If Gerard was leaving, that was final.

***

"So, I suppose you'll be wanting an explanation of sorts?" 

"Yeah, that'd be great Donna."

"Gerard got depressed a few years ago, after his father died. He'd had the schizophrenia and OCD before that, but it hadn't really impacted us. Anyways, he never showed us his depression, and so he got addicted to drugs, alcohol, you name it. With that depression he also got anger issues, very bad anxiety, and the lying. A little over a month ago, when he first met you, he started getting better. He threw away all the alcohol. As you guys got to know each other, he kept on improving. When you 'moved in' he started really taking all his meds. Or...I thought he did. I guess this is why you don't trust compulsive liars, huh?" A smile brightened her face, but I could tell she wanted nothing more than to break down. I sent her half a smile, then returned to Gerard's room. 

With him gone, I was free to snoop. So, obviously, I did. Mere minutes of searching revealed what I was looking for, the notebook I'd seen with all the sketches of me. Tentatively, I opened it, then flipped through until I found the sketches of me with purple hair. A few of them were just grey, but for most of them he'd shaded in the vibrant purple of my hair, and left everything else color-lacking. The notebook was nearly full. Honestly, I wondered how he had managed to draw me so many times as to nearly fill a notebook, and yet I'd never seen him draw me. 

***

The realization that Gerard may never return hit me a few hours late, and yet I managed to retstrain myself from crying. I suppose I was just forcing myself into the possibly delusional belief that he would return home after a bit.

I'd gotten into his pajamas, and curled up in bed when a crashing came from downstairs. I snuck down, staying absolutely silence, and found Gerard, apparently high and drunk. Resisting the urge to smack him, I manuevered the half-conscious Gerard into the bathroom, since I knew hangovers could be a bitch. Not that I'd had one, it was just kind of common knowledge.  After I was certain he'd be fine for the night, I crawled back into bed, knowing that I'd be awoken the next morning by an outraged Donna. Honestly thinking, Gerard just might deserve that fight. 

I snuggled down under the covers, yawned hugely, and immediately sunk into a dreamless slumber.