Adrenaline Sisters// fall out boy & my chemical romance

Chapter 23: Give Me Drugs I Don't Need Them

|| First Person || Bomb Sunshine ||

Mikey and Gerard's words still sink in even after the small intervention they held for me and Rev. I exit the van, the thought of being known by a title like theirs lingering in my head. Adrenaline Sisters. The name ran shivers down my spine. Were we really that addicted?

My body begins to feel more exhausted as the drug wears off. My hands start to shake by my sides as my muscles tense and create new aches. I lean against the van to steady myself, hoping the symptoms will wear off shortly. I will myself to continue towards the camp, feeling like a zombie. A migraine begins to build behind my eyes; I grimace at the pain as I rub at my temples.

"You alright?" I hear my sister ask behind me. I force a nod, not wanting Rev to worry about me. She shouldn't deal with concerns at her age. Revolution guides me toward the camp and sets me down on the dirt. An arm wraps around my shoulders and I instantly register it as Patrick's.

"Already hitting you?" he asks.
"Shut up," I groan before resting my head on his shoulder. Patrick smirks at my response. The pain in my head starts to subside and I remember my twitching hands.

"I can't do this," I mumble as I watch my fingers jitter. I feel vulnerable and exposed. I don't feel like myself. My mind begins to wonder if I ever knew myself.
"Sure you can," Patrick retorts. He shrugs his leather jacket off and drapes it around me. The heavy article envelops me in the warmth I never knew I lacked.
"You still have the stash I gave you?" I ask.
"Even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you," he responds. "How about you get some sleep, alright?"
"But... Adrenaline," I barely force out. My eyelids become heavy and I lose the war against the idea of rest.

Morning comes too quickly. I try to ignore the sunlight from behind my eyelids, wanting to sleep more than I am used to. Patrick is the one to shake me out of my sleep. I look up at him with a yawn.

"We're leaving," he informs me with a small smile.
"I'm tired," I rasp. "Can we stay awhile?"
"Poison's orders," Patrick chuckles weakly. He passes me my backpack that hangs on his hook. "You can sleep in the van. Everyone's waiting, so let's go."

I take my bag before Patrick helps me up. I notice that his jacket is still hung around my shoulders from last night. He leads me to the Defenders of Faith's van and we climb in. I catch a small glimpse of Mikey and Rev and I toss a small wave at them. I hear a laugh escape from Revolution and I know she's laughing at me because of how sluggish and tired I am.

Patrick sits next to me after closing the door, letting me rest my head on his shoulder again.
"If you're hungry, I have some granola bars in my bag?" he offers. I shake my head, the mention of food making my stomach churn. I understand the position my sister is in while dealing with withdrawals.

"Gee told us that we're stopping at some stores on the way to our destination," Pete calls from the driver's seat. Patrick strokes my hair gently, his fingers getting caught in the occasional snarls of the unkempt mess. "So, if you kids need anything back there, make a list."
"Tampons," Rev croaks. I chuckle at my sister's response, relating.
"And something for these uneasy stomachs," Mikey comments. "All this gagging is making me sick."
"Get used to it, pal," Pete chortled. "Anything else?"
"We'll probably find out when we get there," Patrick says. His fingers get trapped in another tangle of hair and he snickers at the conflict.

"Maybe a comb wouldn't hurt?" he jokes. I try to punch his arm, but my fist is too weak to leave a bruise or to even consider it a hit.
"I bet caffeine can help with this," Mikey says.
"What's that?" I ask, looking over at the Killjoy.
"It's another drug, but not overly dangerous like what you two are dealing with," he comments. "It helps me and Gerard on most days."
"Maybe it could get rid of this shaking problem," Patrick says. His hand departs from my hair and holds onto my trembling fingers. My heart rams against my ribs, stuttering for a second. A breath hitches in my throat but I force out an awkward cough as I retract my hand from Patrick's.