A Silent Scream *MCR fanfic*

12

Around 4 AM, Gerard had snuck into his room, and tried to curl up next to me. I promptly left and slept on the couch for the rest of the morning. I was already half-awake when the screaming started, so I just made myself coffee, as usual. I blocked out the screaming until it was merely a dull roar in the background.

From the limited information my head refused to not understand, Gerard was still refusing to take his medications. I was honestly paying absolutely no attention, until I heard Donna scream "sociopath," at which point I fully tuned in.

Going along with my recent luck, Gerard refused to speak after whatever remark she had made about sociopaths, so I found no new information. I sighed and returned to my coffee, completely ignoring the fact that I had a long essay due tomorrow, and had yet to actually start it. It had seemed like recently, I'd lost interest. In everything. Honestly, it should have felt bad. I should feel some kind of longing to continue my interest in my future, social and financial life, etc., etc. But I didn't. I simply couldn't find it in me to care anymore. And let me tell you, that's one of the worst things that there is. You're just empty. It's slow torture.
*****
It's been a week now, and Gerard still refuses to take his medications. He's been strange recently. More violent. He scared me, if I'm being honest. He and I barely talked anymore. And when we did, it was merely facts. No deep, personal, philosophical conversations like we used to have.

I supposed that recently, I'd begun to develop feelings for Gerard. I mean, how couldn't I have? He was handsome, kind, mysterious, intelligent, and we just clicked. And, perhaps, I'd deluded myself into believing that he felt the same towards me. Now, I realized that we were in completely different leagues. Who was above and who was below? I didn't have a single clue.
***
After I'd returned from school on Monday, Donna had brought me and Mikey into the kitchen, to discuss an issue plaguing the Way household. That issue being Gerard. She whispered something in Mikey's ear, and then I saw an unrecognizable emotion burn itself into Mikey's feature. If I had to describe it, I'd say it was somewhere in between mental agony, absolute fury, and complete disbelief. I demanded,
"Tell me what you told Mikey. I deserve to know." The two shared a glance, then Donna gave a sigh of resignation and spoke,
"Gerard told you all but one of his problems, which is the most major problem, one that we've been trying and failing to deal with his entire life. I need you to understand that when he is truly taking his medications, he does everything he does to fight this, and it's most definitely not his fault. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Gerard is a sociopath. It's been confirmed by many medical professionals."
Shock courses through my body like ice, bonding me in the exact position I was in when she spoke those all-too-certain words. Gerard couldn't have been a sociopath. He very obviously felt something towards me. I, of course, didn't understand what exactly it was, but I was completely certain it was there. Sociopaths can't feel anything, so Gerard most certainly can't be one.

A few seconds later, Donna's gentle voice made a return, exactly as I realized that in my state of shock and panic, I'd been thinking out loud.

"Sociopathy doesn't mean he doesn't feel at all. It means that's he's so afraid to form emotional attachments, he locks any and all emotions away. He can still form connections to certain people or groups. It doesn't make him a monster, and it certainly doesn't mean he feels nothing for you. But him feeling something for isn't evidence against his proven sociopathy."

"So. He has medications to help control the sociopathy? And he hasn't been taking them? What'll happen if he doesn't?"

"Well. He'll act even more emotionless."

Immediately, I dashed upstairs, where Gerard was still fast asleep. I gently shook him awake, and whispered,

"I know," into his ear. Even in his drowsy state, he knew what I meant and started to panic.

"Get out! Get out, get out, get out!"

"Gerard, why would I do that?"

"Because I'm a freak! What if I hurt you?!"

"You won't. I promise."

"You're trying to get me to take my meds aren't you?"

"Not that in specific, but. It wouldn't do any bad. And it might help. I do-"
I was abruptly cut off by a fist colliding with my throat.

After I regained the ability to breathe properly, I saw Gerard. He looked more emotional than I'd ever seen him. He looked at me, and I saw pure terror. He was afraid. Not of me, though. Perhaps it was himself. I could tell that my throat was red. It was a possibility he had seen the coloring and gotten terrified of his own strength.

Before I even had the chance to help him calm down, he grabbed a duffel bag out from under his bed, and was out the window. I knew I wouldn't be able to chase him. He knew these areas better than I likely ever will, plus he was faster. 

I should have been angry. Outraged. Scared. Hurt. Never wanting to see him again. But I wasn't. I wasn't not any of those things. I was just worried. Worried about what will happen to him. Worried about what will happen about us.