Casual Sabotage

24 - Meds

The next days it got harder. Ian resented the pills, he hated how they made him feel. He complained about how he wasn't feeling anything, how he was lying under a wet blanket with cotton in his mouth – he had nightmares about this a lot.

On day three the mid-day snack pill-taking conversation went kind of like this.
"You still didn't touch the pills"
"I don't want them."
"You have to take them."
"I hate them."
"You have to take them."
"But they're making me feel so much worse."
"They're gonna make you feel better."
"I don't think so."
"Then don't take them and join your mother at the circus if you like it better."
Then Ian took the pills.

Now it's been five days of this. Ian didn't feel better yet, they barely talked and if they talked it was a pill-taking conversation. The rest of the time Ian stayed away from him as far as possible while looking at him filled with guilt and fear, or he was as close as possible to him, cuddling him and holding him as if he was afraid, Mickey might run away if he didn't hold on strong enough. A valid fear.

Ian was standing in the kitchen and stared at the pill bottles. He hated them so much. He didn't want to take them anymore. He was supposed to feel normal with them, but he didn't. He felt sick. They were a constant reminder that his life the way he knew it was over. He could forget about being an EMT, it was just a question of time until his boyfriend would leave him and he couldn't feel the amount of love, anger and sadness he knew he was supposed to feel about this. Everything was dull and muted. Everything except the guilt he felt.

He opened the Lithium bottle and let the pills drop into his hand, he looked at them. He wanted them to be gone, just gone. He wanted all of it to be gone. Maybe if he could get rid of them, he could finally feel better again, feel love and sadness and happiness to their full extend. Though he doubted that he would feel a lot of happiness for now.

"Ian", a calm but worried voice appeared behind him, "What are you doing?"
Ian bit his lip, he didn't answer. Mickey walked up to him and touched his shoulder.
"Put the pills back. You're supposed to take one of them, not all, and not now."
"I hate them", he mumbled.
"That doesn't matter, you have to take them."

Ian looked at him, "But I don't want to. They make me feel like shit, I don't want this anymore", he raised his voice at him. Mickey didn't flinch.
"Ian put the pills back.", Mickey raised his voice now too, "Stop acting like a fucking child who doesn't want to take his medicine. Put the pills back, get your shit together and go watch TV."

Ian scrunched up his face and suddenly pushed the bottles and the pills in his hand to the ground in one swift motion with his arm.

"What the hell?!", Mickey yelled at him, "Are you completely out of your mind?"
"I don't fucking want any of this anymore, Mickey!", he yelled back at them, "What's the use of this fuckery, huh? I'm fucked for life anyway and I'm just waiting for you to leave me! Why should I take them if it's no fucking use anyway?"
"If you don't take your pills I really will leave!", he yelled at him, "I'm tired of your shit, Gallagher! I'm tired of all of this! Fuck you, fuck your problems! It's all always just about you, is it? The only reason I'm still here is that you need help and everyone's expecting me to help you! Either you fucking take your pills or I'm gone! You hear me? I'd rather move back to my dad than deal with you being unmedicated another fucking day!"

Ian stared at him, his face was red and he looked so hurt by his words, Mickey almost felt sorry for them. But in the end, he didn't, because it needed to be said.

"Then leave!", Ian screamed at him now with such force and despair in his voice, Mickey had to take a step back, "Then finally leave me if you want it so badly!"