Kaleidoscope
Title: Kaleidoscope
Rating: Mature (Suicidal themes, drug abuse)
Centric: Gerard, Mikey. No Waycest. Gerard's POV.
Status: Completed Standalone.
Summary: So this is it. A cocktail of strong pills sits in my hand, still and ready. I stand shaking in the harsh light of the bathroom, running my thumb over the collection. I watch in a sort of awe as they tumble amongst themselves. Blue, white, red, yellow… like a kaleidoscope of all my worst intentions.
So this is it. A cocktail of strong pills sits in my hand, still and ready. I stand shaking in the harsh light of the bathroom, running my thumb over the collection. I watch in a sort of awe as they tumble amongst themselves. Blue, white, red, yellow… like a kaleidoscope of all my worst intentions.
I never planned on it getting to this point. I used to be happy, I used to love my life. Depression crept up on me, engulfing me bit by bit so I couldn’t put two and two together. It just happened and before I knew it, it consumed me. Before I knew it, it was me.
Shutting the door firmly, I breathe in deeply. Moving boxes are everywhere, they have been for two months. Two months ago my dad got offered a job further upstate, and he took it. Never mind that I’ll be leaving my comfort zone two hundred miles away, along with the house I’ve lived in as long as I can remember. It’s my comfort, though anymore it feels like a bed of thorns.
I’m not going. That’s what I’ve decided. Why should I? So I can mess up my new life just as much as I have my old one? Worse? I used to have it all. I used to have friends. Given, I was never popular, but I at least had a life. I didn’t have to shoot up to validate myself. I was self-validated, fuck everyone else.
Mikey’s excited. He won’t admit it, but I can see it in his face. It’s almost like we aren’t brothers anymore; I never see him, I‘m never there for him. I’m too busy drowning in self-pity to come out of my room. He deserves better. He deserves a big brother who he can look up to, who can be his hero. I don’t fit that mold; not to say I never have. I used to. He used to come to me with his problems and I’d be the superhero who erased them all. I was a superhero… how fall I’ve fallen.
Sniffling, I let myself become mesmerized with the pills. Such little, tiny pills. Their effect isn’t tiny, however. Their effect is heavy and I know it. I know it and I’m excited. One pill, two pills, three pills… no. Not enough. If I do this, I’m doing it the right way. A handful of the strongest I can find… two, even.
This is a good thing, I tell myself. Let them start over anew, without me to ruin things for them. Dad won’t have to deal with the screaming matches, with my refusal to do anything with my life. Mom can go to sleep at night, instead of waiting wearily on the couch for me to come home in the middle of the night. Mikey… Mikey can find a new superhero, someone who actually holds the title. He won’t have to keep acting like I do the trick. Happily ever after, two-hundred miles from my grave. Subconsciously I wonder if they’ll come to visit me, if they’ll cry at my funeral.
I’m seventeen and I’ve already planned out my funeral. I want a dark day, gray and rainy. I want my casket to be a shiny black lacquer, like the ones you see in the movies. I want everyone attending to dress in white, my black suit and tie not blending into it’s surroundings. I want to be lowered six feet down, and I want it to signify my fall, my end.
My breath stalls in my throat. I’m shaking now, really shaking. Glancing at the bathroom door I swallow hard. So this is it, this is really it. Within the next couple of hours I’ll be done. I’m forfeiting, giving up. I wonder who will find me. I hope to God it’s not Mom. I pray it’s not Mikey. Closing my eyes, I let sigh escape to calm my nerves with no prevail. Just do it, Gerard. Do it.
I bring my hand to my lips, closing my eyes when I hear my name being called.
“Gerard!” I jump, nearly dropping the pills to the floor.
“Shit” I mutter, panicking. Eyes darting, I grab one of the empty bottles of pills and dump all I have into it. My entire body shaking, I shove all of the bottles in the empty medicine cabinet, already packed and ready for the move.
“Gerard!” the call repeats and I immediately recognize the voice. Mikey. Exhaling, I open the door.
“Yeah?” I shakily poke my head outside the door, footsteps echoing through the hallway. Within seconds, he stumbles into view, my heart stalling in my throat.
“What happened?” I blurt, eyes wide as they take in the sight. There stands my younger brother, having obviously gotten in a fight. His lip is split, blood gushing and there’s a small gash near his right temple that puts forth the same. He stands tenderly on his right leg, leaning against the wall, grimacing. His glasses are missing, and he squints to see me in the darkness.
“… Fight” he mumbles, his bottom lip quivering slightly as he tries not to cry.
“Well, obviously” I say, coming off harsher than I intended. “Come here” I sigh, motioning him to come towards the bathroom. He staggers forth and I’m immediately at his side, helping him.
“Ow” he mutters as I help him to sit on the counter. Giving him a once-over, I start looking for the first aid kit.
“Hold this here, bud” I gently press a Kleenex to his temple, a trickle of blood running past his chin. He sniffles, doing as he’s told. Opening a cabinet, the first aid kit sits defiantly.
“So” I press. “What happened? Besides a fight, I mean.” Mikey runs his tongue over his bottom lip, a nervous habit. He flinches at the taste of the coppery blood that resides there.
“Jake” he mumbles, looking to the floor as he refers to the kid that picks on him daily. I think he’s the real reason he’s excited about moving, and I’m happy for him in that aspect. He doesn’t deserve getting beat on everyday.
“Again?” I carefully adjust his fingers at his temple. He flinches. “It’s not going to stop the bleeding unless you put pressure on it” I remind him, turning my attention to his lip. I find some gauze in the kit, carefully molding it around the gash before motioning him to hold it.
“Yeah” he whispers nearly inaudibly to my first question. I sigh, glancing at him. His eyes are filled with tears and he glances away to rid himself of them.
Gently, I bring my index finger to his chin, forcing him to look me in the eye.
“Hey. It’s okay to cry Mikey, I know it hurts” I force him a small smile and just like that I seem to trigger something. A single tear trails down his cheek and once again he glances away.
“Mikey” I repeat. He shakes his head, refusing to look me in the eye.
“I’m such a baby” he sniffles, obviously angry with himself. I exhale deeply.
“No, you’re not” I disagree. “I’d be bawling my eyes out if someone split my lip like this.” The corners of his lips upturn a bit at the remark.
“I just want to leave” he says. “Get out of here, you know?” I swallow hard at the irony as it applies to me.
“Yeah, me too” I murmur. Changing the topic, I motion towards his temple. “Do you think that’s finished bleeding yet?” He nods and carefully peels the tissue away, leaving a bloodstained cut about an inch or so long.
Turning to the first aid kit, I grab an alcohol wipe. Immediately, he tenses up. Ever since he was a little kid, he couldn’t stand this part of the process. When he was little, he used to start kicking his legs when the clean began to sting, leaving Mom bruised.
“You’ll be fine” I murmur, opening the package. Gently directing his head to the left, I begin to clean the wound. His breath hisses and quickens, his teeth clenched to their tightest power. Soon, I’m done and I smooth on some cream before briskly applying a band-aid.
“There” I offer him a smile. He sniffles, leaning his head back to rest against the cabinet.
“Ger?” he asks in a vulnerable voice.
“Yeah?” I respond, my stare drifting to the cabinet. My teeth find their way to my lip.
“I… why don’t you….” he struggles to form his question. “Why don’t you want anything to do with me anymore?” My heart stalls, my mouth slightly agape. That’s what he thinks? That I don’t want anything to do with him?
“What are you talking about?” I play innocent, but I know. Locked up in my room, I haven’t been there for him. I’ve been too absorbed in whatever has been going on in my life that I’ve abandoned him. We used to be best friends, inseparable. But somewhere along the line I decided that having your little brother tagging along all the time wasn’t exactly cool. I’d left him to fend for himself while I’ve lived my own life. I’ve let him get beat up, I’ve ignored him when he came home crying after fights he didn‘t initiate. I’m his big brother, I’m supposed to protect him, but I didn’t. I called him a baby. I told him to grow up.
“I…” he begins, hanging his head in embarrassment. “Nothing.” Silence ensues and I swallow my pride to break it.
“Mikey, I know I haven’t been a very good brother to you, or much of a brother at all” I begin. “But it was nothing against you, I swear. I was stupid and I should never have acted the way I did.”
He nods slowly.
“I just… I always thought I did something, you know?” he sniffles. “Because all of a sudden you wouldn’t talk to me and wouldn’t hang out with me and…”
“Mike, I know that’s probably how it seemed, but it wasn’t intended to be anything against you.” He nods again, knowingly.
Licking my lips, I swallow. “Look, why don’t you go lay down on the couch? See what’s on TV. I think your lip is almost done bleeding.”
“Okay” he mutters, gingerly getting from the counter. As soon as he’s standing, I draw him in for a hug, the first one in months, at least.
“Kid, look. I know I come off as an ass sometimes and it seems like I don’t care about anyone but myself, but I do. You’re my little brother, I have to care. I’m sorry for letting you down, alright?”
“You didn’t let me down” Mikey automatically blurts.
“Yeah, I did” I sigh, resting my forehead against his shirt. I’m exhausted, I’ve worn myself out. “Just know that, okay? That I care about you?”
“Okay” he nods, reluctantly pulling from the embrace. Reaching for doorknob, he turns to me, giving me a small smile.
“Thanks for helping me” he says. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” And with that, he’s gone, staggering down the hallway.
I stand there, awestruck. I don’t know what I would have done without you. It’s the first time I’ve felt needed in months, and it sets my mind ablaze. What would he have done without me? Whose going to be there for him when I’m gone? Whose going to tell him it’s okay and convince him it’s not his fault, that he can’t pin it on himself? He’s always done that, assumed everything for his fault. Kind of like me. No, exactly like me.
Drawing in a breath, I shakily reach for the medicine cabinet door. A few tiny plastic bottles fall out, making a dull clinking noise as they come in contact with the porcelain of the sink. All of them ring empty, the one with the contents the only one left standing. Swallowing hard, I direct the empty containers towards the wastebasket before grabbing the bottle with the ones I had intended for earlier. I hear the contents shift familiarly within the container.
Upon opening it, I once again dump the contents in my palm. Staring at them, they still hold heavy power, but not of the healing variety they did earlier. The pills don’t look pretty anymore, I don’t admire them. Each pill looks dull and disgusting, a handful of destruction. Chewing on my lip, I shift the pills between my hands, looking to the ceiling.
“Hey, Ger, Night of the Living Dead is about to start!” My fourteen-year-old brother exclaims from the other room. A smile breaks across my face, chuckling slightly. The coldness of my heart begins to melt away as his talks of a new beginning fill my head.
All of a sudden, the pills feel like a heavy poison in my palm. I bring it closer to my face, but something invisible stops me from bringing it any closer. I extend my arm so they sit as far away from me as possible, my eyes interlocking with them again. Glancing to the door and back, I grab two pills, Ibuprofen for Mikey.
Inhaling deeply, I watch as the rest float from my palm towards the basin of the toilet, each making their own impact as they come into contact with the water. Once they all rest, leaving their effect on the bottom of the toilet, a feeling of relief washes over me. It feels as if a thousand pounds has been lifted from me. Those pounds, along with their carriers are taken from me completely as I flush them, bringing a grin to my face that hasn’t been seen in months.
Rating: Mature (Suicidal themes, drug abuse)
Centric: Gerard, Mikey. No Waycest. Gerard's POV.
Status: Completed Standalone.
Summary: So this is it. A cocktail of strong pills sits in my hand, still and ready. I stand shaking in the harsh light of the bathroom, running my thumb over the collection. I watch in a sort of awe as they tumble amongst themselves. Blue, white, red, yellow… like a kaleidoscope of all my worst intentions.
So this is it. A cocktail of strong pills sits in my hand, still and ready. I stand shaking in the harsh light of the bathroom, running my thumb over the collection. I watch in a sort of awe as they tumble amongst themselves. Blue, white, red, yellow… like a kaleidoscope of all my worst intentions.
I never planned on it getting to this point. I used to be happy, I used to love my life. Depression crept up on me, engulfing me bit by bit so I couldn’t put two and two together. It just happened and before I knew it, it consumed me. Before I knew it, it was me.
Shutting the door firmly, I breathe in deeply. Moving boxes are everywhere, they have been for two months. Two months ago my dad got offered a job further upstate, and he took it. Never mind that I’ll be leaving my comfort zone two hundred miles away, along with the house I’ve lived in as long as I can remember. It’s my comfort, though anymore it feels like a bed of thorns.
I’m not going. That’s what I’ve decided. Why should I? So I can mess up my new life just as much as I have my old one? Worse? I used to have it all. I used to have friends. Given, I was never popular, but I at least had a life. I didn’t have to shoot up to validate myself. I was self-validated, fuck everyone else.
Mikey’s excited. He won’t admit it, but I can see it in his face. It’s almost like we aren’t brothers anymore; I never see him, I‘m never there for him. I’m too busy drowning in self-pity to come out of my room. He deserves better. He deserves a big brother who he can look up to, who can be his hero. I don’t fit that mold; not to say I never have. I used to. He used to come to me with his problems and I’d be the superhero who erased them all. I was a superhero… how fall I’ve fallen.
Sniffling, I let myself become mesmerized with the pills. Such little, tiny pills. Their effect isn’t tiny, however. Their effect is heavy and I know it. I know it and I’m excited. One pill, two pills, three pills… no. Not enough. If I do this, I’m doing it the right way. A handful of the strongest I can find… two, even.
This is a good thing, I tell myself. Let them start over anew, without me to ruin things for them. Dad won’t have to deal with the screaming matches, with my refusal to do anything with my life. Mom can go to sleep at night, instead of waiting wearily on the couch for me to come home in the middle of the night. Mikey… Mikey can find a new superhero, someone who actually holds the title. He won’t have to keep acting like I do the trick. Happily ever after, two-hundred miles from my grave. Subconsciously I wonder if they’ll come to visit me, if they’ll cry at my funeral.
I’m seventeen and I’ve already planned out my funeral. I want a dark day, gray and rainy. I want my casket to be a shiny black lacquer, like the ones you see in the movies. I want everyone attending to dress in white, my black suit and tie not blending into it’s surroundings. I want to be lowered six feet down, and I want it to signify my fall, my end.
My breath stalls in my throat. I’m shaking now, really shaking. Glancing at the bathroom door I swallow hard. So this is it, this is really it. Within the next couple of hours I’ll be done. I’m forfeiting, giving up. I wonder who will find me. I hope to God it’s not Mom. I pray it’s not Mikey. Closing my eyes, I let sigh escape to calm my nerves with no prevail. Just do it, Gerard. Do it.
I bring my hand to my lips, closing my eyes when I hear my name being called.
“Gerard!” I jump, nearly dropping the pills to the floor.
“Shit” I mutter, panicking. Eyes darting, I grab one of the empty bottles of pills and dump all I have into it. My entire body shaking, I shove all of the bottles in the empty medicine cabinet, already packed and ready for the move.
“Gerard!” the call repeats and I immediately recognize the voice. Mikey. Exhaling, I open the door.
“Yeah?” I shakily poke my head outside the door, footsteps echoing through the hallway. Within seconds, he stumbles into view, my heart stalling in my throat.
“What happened?” I blurt, eyes wide as they take in the sight. There stands my younger brother, having obviously gotten in a fight. His lip is split, blood gushing and there’s a small gash near his right temple that puts forth the same. He stands tenderly on his right leg, leaning against the wall, grimacing. His glasses are missing, and he squints to see me in the darkness.
“… Fight” he mumbles, his bottom lip quivering slightly as he tries not to cry.
“Well, obviously” I say, coming off harsher than I intended. “Come here” I sigh, motioning him to come towards the bathroom. He staggers forth and I’m immediately at his side, helping him.
“Ow” he mutters as I help him to sit on the counter. Giving him a once-over, I start looking for the first aid kit.
“Hold this here, bud” I gently press a Kleenex to his temple, a trickle of blood running past his chin. He sniffles, doing as he’s told. Opening a cabinet, the first aid kit sits defiantly.
“So” I press. “What happened? Besides a fight, I mean.” Mikey runs his tongue over his bottom lip, a nervous habit. He flinches at the taste of the coppery blood that resides there.
“Jake” he mumbles, looking to the floor as he refers to the kid that picks on him daily. I think he’s the real reason he’s excited about moving, and I’m happy for him in that aspect. He doesn’t deserve getting beat on everyday.
“Again?” I carefully adjust his fingers at his temple. He flinches. “It’s not going to stop the bleeding unless you put pressure on it” I remind him, turning my attention to his lip. I find some gauze in the kit, carefully molding it around the gash before motioning him to hold it.
“Yeah” he whispers nearly inaudibly to my first question. I sigh, glancing at him. His eyes are filled with tears and he glances away to rid himself of them.
Gently, I bring my index finger to his chin, forcing him to look me in the eye.
“Hey. It’s okay to cry Mikey, I know it hurts” I force him a small smile and just like that I seem to trigger something. A single tear trails down his cheek and once again he glances away.
“Mikey” I repeat. He shakes his head, refusing to look me in the eye.
“I’m such a baby” he sniffles, obviously angry with himself. I exhale deeply.
“No, you’re not” I disagree. “I’d be bawling my eyes out if someone split my lip like this.” The corners of his lips upturn a bit at the remark.
“I just want to leave” he says. “Get out of here, you know?” I swallow hard at the irony as it applies to me.
“Yeah, me too” I murmur. Changing the topic, I motion towards his temple. “Do you think that’s finished bleeding yet?” He nods and carefully peels the tissue away, leaving a bloodstained cut about an inch or so long.
Turning to the first aid kit, I grab an alcohol wipe. Immediately, he tenses up. Ever since he was a little kid, he couldn’t stand this part of the process. When he was little, he used to start kicking his legs when the clean began to sting, leaving Mom bruised.
“You’ll be fine” I murmur, opening the package. Gently directing his head to the left, I begin to clean the wound. His breath hisses and quickens, his teeth clenched to their tightest power. Soon, I’m done and I smooth on some cream before briskly applying a band-aid.
“There” I offer him a smile. He sniffles, leaning his head back to rest against the cabinet.
“Ger?” he asks in a vulnerable voice.
“Yeah?” I respond, my stare drifting to the cabinet. My teeth find their way to my lip.
“I… why don’t you….” he struggles to form his question. “Why don’t you want anything to do with me anymore?” My heart stalls, my mouth slightly agape. That’s what he thinks? That I don’t want anything to do with him?
“What are you talking about?” I play innocent, but I know. Locked up in my room, I haven’t been there for him. I’ve been too absorbed in whatever has been going on in my life that I’ve abandoned him. We used to be best friends, inseparable. But somewhere along the line I decided that having your little brother tagging along all the time wasn’t exactly cool. I’d left him to fend for himself while I’ve lived my own life. I’ve let him get beat up, I’ve ignored him when he came home crying after fights he didn‘t initiate. I’m his big brother, I’m supposed to protect him, but I didn’t. I called him a baby. I told him to grow up.
“I…” he begins, hanging his head in embarrassment. “Nothing.” Silence ensues and I swallow my pride to break it.
“Mikey, I know I haven’t been a very good brother to you, or much of a brother at all” I begin. “But it was nothing against you, I swear. I was stupid and I should never have acted the way I did.”
He nods slowly.
“I just… I always thought I did something, you know?” he sniffles. “Because all of a sudden you wouldn’t talk to me and wouldn’t hang out with me and…”
“Mike, I know that’s probably how it seemed, but it wasn’t intended to be anything against you.” He nods again, knowingly.
Licking my lips, I swallow. “Look, why don’t you go lay down on the couch? See what’s on TV. I think your lip is almost done bleeding.”
“Okay” he mutters, gingerly getting from the counter. As soon as he’s standing, I draw him in for a hug, the first one in months, at least.
“Kid, look. I know I come off as an ass sometimes and it seems like I don’t care about anyone but myself, but I do. You’re my little brother, I have to care. I’m sorry for letting you down, alright?”
“You didn’t let me down” Mikey automatically blurts.
“Yeah, I did” I sigh, resting my forehead against his shirt. I’m exhausted, I’ve worn myself out. “Just know that, okay? That I care about you?”
“Okay” he nods, reluctantly pulling from the embrace. Reaching for doorknob, he turns to me, giving me a small smile.
“Thanks for helping me” he says. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” And with that, he’s gone, staggering down the hallway.
I stand there, awestruck. I don’t know what I would have done without you. It’s the first time I’ve felt needed in months, and it sets my mind ablaze. What would he have done without me? Whose going to be there for him when I’m gone? Whose going to tell him it’s okay and convince him it’s not his fault, that he can’t pin it on himself? He’s always done that, assumed everything for his fault. Kind of like me. No, exactly like me.
Drawing in a breath, I shakily reach for the medicine cabinet door. A few tiny plastic bottles fall out, making a dull clinking noise as they come in contact with the porcelain of the sink. All of them ring empty, the one with the contents the only one left standing. Swallowing hard, I direct the empty containers towards the wastebasket before grabbing the bottle with the ones I had intended for earlier. I hear the contents shift familiarly within the container.
Upon opening it, I once again dump the contents in my palm. Staring at them, they still hold heavy power, but not of the healing variety they did earlier. The pills don’t look pretty anymore, I don’t admire them. Each pill looks dull and disgusting, a handful of destruction. Chewing on my lip, I shift the pills between my hands, looking to the ceiling.
“Hey, Ger, Night of the Living Dead is about to start!” My fourteen-year-old brother exclaims from the other room. A smile breaks across my face, chuckling slightly. The coldness of my heart begins to melt away as his talks of a new beginning fill my head.
All of a sudden, the pills feel like a heavy poison in my palm. I bring it closer to my face, but something invisible stops me from bringing it any closer. I extend my arm so they sit as far away from me as possible, my eyes interlocking with them again. Glancing to the door and back, I grab two pills, Ibuprofen for Mikey.
Inhaling deeply, I watch as the rest float from my palm towards the basin of the toilet, each making their own impact as they come into contact with the water. Once they all rest, leaving their effect on the bottom of the toilet, a feeling of relief washes over me. It feels as if a thousand pounds has been lifted from me. Those pounds, along with their carriers are taken from me completely as I flush them, bringing a grin to my face that hasn’t been seen in months.