Middle Child Syndrome- Ian Gallagher

why, sammi?

"MPs."

"Huh?"

Ian was on top of me, looking outside.

"They're coming. Wake up."

"Ian, come back to bed," I said tiredly. 

"No, I can't let them get in the house!" he said, running out of the room. 

I walked downstairs. Ian was holding a bat and freaking out while Fiona was trying to get him to calm down.

"Babe, no one's coming for you!"

"Muzzle that kid!!" Frank said from the couch.

"What's going on?" Persephone said as the bathroom door opened. Ian swung and almost hit Debbie. Thank god, she ducked in time.

Fiona, Persephone, and I screamed.

"Hey," I said, slowly taking the bat out of his hands and opening the door, "No one's out there."

I took his hand and led him back while Persephone checked on Debbie.

"Ian, it's only gonna get worse," Fiona said.

I opened the front door, "Look. No one there."

Ian came back to reality. 

"Ian, you need to go back on meds. And today," I said.

"Don't do it," Frank said.

"Shut up, Frank," Fiona said.

"Come on," I said, "Let's go upstairs. Let's get dressed."

____________________________________________________

We went to the clinic and the doctor prescribed him  lithium as expected. He was supposed to take it twice a day. And Olanzipine for paranoia. 

"Ian, do you have any questions?"

"Uh, yeah, how long do I have to take these for?"

"There is evidence that over time the need for aggressive treatment diminishes."

"How much time?"

"Hard to say."

"Ballpark."

"30-40 years."

__________________________________________________________

The meds were not only fucking with Ian's sleep schedule, but also his libido and dick. He was struggling to get it up, even when I was blowing him. 

"Ok," I said, "My mouth's getting sore, and still nothing."

"Sorry," he said.

"It's ok," I said, "Next time. Ok, breakfast of champs. Anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, anti-depressant. Gatorade."

"You a fucking nurse now?"

"No, I'm your fucking girlfriend," I said, "Take your pills."

We went downstairs to get breakfast and I forced Ian to eat something. Sammi the snitch was downstairs looking at apartment listings. Good riddance. 

Ian and I went to work. He got a job as a dishwasher at Patsy's, not an ideal job, but it's a job. 

I was busy waiting a table when I heard yelling from the kitchen. Ian burnt his hand badly. If I wasn't in the middle of my shift, I would've helped, but I couldn't. I clocked out three hours later and went back to Ian's. 

"Hey, how's your hand?" I said.

"It's fine," he said, grabbing some stuff from the fridge, "Come on. We're going out."