Painted Skies

Chapter 2

He placed the shopping bags on the counter and began to heat the water for his tea. He didn't really like tea, but putting boat loads of coffee creamer in it could make the leaf water bearable. He didn't really like apple juice either. He actually didn't like any juice. Well maybe orange juice, but without the pulp.

"Wow, you're actually doing it?" Mikey entered the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of apple juice. "Hey, I bought that for me." Gerard scolded, but who was he kidding, he wasn't going to drink a gallon of apple juice.

"I didn't think you'd actually leave the house to buy things for this shit." Mikey continued, discarding his half empty glass, it had just occurred to him, he didn't really like apple juice. "Well, I want to dream." Gerard shrugged, he also didn't have anything else to do and was ready to get his full eight hours for the first time in years.

Mikey scuffled through the bags before Gerard could stop him, drawing out the box of NyQuil. "You're not sick." He stated with a questionable tone. Gerard really didn't want him to find that. He knew he couldn't lie to his brother, they were with each other twenty four seven and he would definitely know if Gerard should be taking medicine or not.

Mikey knew about Gerard's mishaps the beginning of his sophomore year. It wasn't huge or anything, only something to get his mind off things. Everyone just overreacted in Gerard's eyes, it was just... a hobbie. But Mikey didn't want to see him back in that state.

Gerard, honestly, didn't like being in that state. It blocked off all his creativity and that's basically all he has to prevent himself from going insane. His brother did help him a great deal. He understood.

"It's just to get me to sleep Mikes." Gerard reasoned, because it really was. Mikey examined his face and opened the box, placing two capsules on Gerard's open palm. "I'm keeping this in my room," he stated, shoving the box into his back pocket. "I'm monitoring you." He playfully narrowed his eye which made Gerard smile.

Mikey was aware his brother had a rough time sleeping, he really did want him to get a good nights sleep, or maybe he was just sick of him bitching about the stupid dream project.

"Thanks Mikey." Gerard wrapped him in a hug, then prepared his tea. "Want some?" Gerard asked, but Mikey shook his head, he didn't really like tea.

•~•~•~•

He laid there with droopy eyelids, staring at the ceiling littered with glow in the dark stars he had put there when he was seven. Why did he do that? Second of all, why were they still there? It's literally been 11 years and he noticed them every single day, still wondering why he hadn't taken them down, yet, not doing anything about it; though he went on with his day, not giving it any thought until he laid back down that evening and the cycle repeated.

Fuck, he shouldn't be thinking.

He flipped onto his side to try and distract himself from the angelic bodies above him that were too concentrated in one area. (where his bed use to be, he couldn't stand on any other furniture to place the stars all around the room.)

He just needed to sleep, and stop fucking thinking 'cause he would never get to sleep if he got lost in his head. He just wanted to rip all those stars down, then it would be okay and his brain would thank him, but he would think and think until he came up with another problem he would just have to solve at that very moment because it could definitely not wait until it popped into his brain again at a more convenient time.

And there he was, thinking again.

Thinking about thinking, that just created an even more complicated paradox that would defiantly not let him sleep. He rubbed his tired eyes and inhaled deeply, attempting to slow down his heart rate and clear his head. His thoughts finally stopped yelling at him and he calmed down, knowing that was the first step to dreamland, but then came the ringing.