Descending

~Look at me. You may think you see who I really am, but you'll never know me.~

I walk quickly from the psychologist's office, taking my iPod from my pocket and putting the earphones in my ears, immediately blasting Led Zeppelin. I don't want to listen to the voice anymore. Listening to music usually drowns it out, but I can't live my life with music deafening my ears; if I could, I definitely would. The gray sidewalk stretches in front of me as I swiftly step to the beat of How Many More Times, watching the cars race in front of me and pass out of sight. The streets go on forever, leading me down a path that has no destination; one I'll be more than happy to follow if it gets me away from myself.

Eventually, I find myself in front of a bar. I check my watch. 5:57 I could go for a drink right about now. Anything that could make me feel better for a little while. I enter, opening the door to the dimly lit cavern and sit down on one of the dusty chairs. The middle-aged woman behind the counter looks at me, both hands holding two ice-cold beers. "Hold on, sweetie, I'll be right with you." She goes over and gives the drinks to two burly men over in the corner. I look around. The place is almost completely packed, and it's not even six yet.

She comes back over, leaning in front of me, her cleavage popping out of her too-tight tank top. "So, what can I get you, handsome?" The double-meaning in her words makes me shudder as she licks her lips slowly.

I swallow nervously, leaning away from her slightly. "The strongest drink you have, please." Her eyes widen, cocking an eyebrow in my direction.

"Oh? Bad day, hun?" She leans in closer, making me lean as far back as I can manage. "I can make you feel much better."

"Yes, you can." I bite out quietly, not really in the mood for a scene. "By getting me my drink. Maybe you should do that now." Her mouth drops slightly, looking stunned, then she glares and walks away. I put my head in my hands, exhausted. It's been a pretty long day.

A few minutes later, the bartender slams my drink down in front of me with a scowl drawn on her face. "This is the strongest we've got, hun. It's a Zombie. Drink up." With a slight glare, she walks down to another customer. I shake my head at her anger and pick up the glass. The drink is a faded orange color and reeks of alcohol. Just what I need. I put the cool glass to my lips and chug it's contents. As the burning liquid swishes down my now aching throat, I start to feel dizzy. I raise my hand, signaling for another drink, ignoring her eye roll as she brings me two full glasses. "I'd be careful, hun. Any more of this and you'll be out cold on the floor."

"Does it look like I care?" my words slur slightly. She shrugs and walks away, mumbling under her breath well, don't say I didn't warn you. Clumsily, I take out my earphones, not needing the extra noise anymore--the drinks will suit me fine. I bring the rim of the glass to my mouth and chug it too, taking delight in the powerful burn it creates in my throat and the fire in my stomach. Taking a quick breath, I quickly down the other. My vision blurs slightly, and I sway a bit on the chair. Maybe I've had enough for now.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, signaling a call. Who would be calling me? I lazily reach for it, checking the caller ID. I can barely make out the name--Gerard. After a few tries, I hit the call button and bring the phone to my ears. "H-Hello?"

"Mikey, what the hell? Where are you? I just got a call from Dr. Vita saying you left during a session. What's going on?" I roll my eyes at Gerard's anxious and unpleased tone. I love him, truly, but he's always so worried about me. I can take care of myself, and I think he knows that, but he treats me as if I'm an infant sometimes.

"I'm fiiiine, Gee. Caln d-down." I flinch at the slur in my words, knowing this will only put him more on edge. I hear him gasp slightly.

"You left your appointment to go get drunk?" He asks, shocked. Fuck. "Mikey, why? This isn't like you at all."

"Shuddup, Gerawrd." I groan. "Stay the fuuuck owutta it."

"No, I won't. Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you." I don't say anything, too captivated on the swirling colors appearing in front of my eyes. Everything is sort of meshing together, unable to be told apart by my impaired eyes. It's sort of beautiful in a cheerless way. "Michael Way, answer me." I blink rapidly at his voice, bringing me back to reality but just barely.

"I'm at the b-bar, down t-the street from the office." I say, a little more collectively. Gerard gives his consent and hangs up, leaving an empty dial tone in my ears. I hit 'end call' and put my phone in my pocket, raising my hand again to the bartender. "Another!"

"Sweetheart, you're drunk." She bites out pointedly. "I'm not giving you anything more. You look like you're about to pass out." I groan, resting my head on the table, not able to think clear enough to argue. I close my eyes, finding the cool wooden table soothing. I don't move, feeling my head pound slightly, a broken and terrible rhythm of the alcohol in my veins.

A hand shakes my shoulder. "Mikey...Mikey wake up." I open my eyes, seeing a mess of dyed white-blonde hair and familiar hazel-green eyes looming over me. I yawn, sitting up. I guess I took a little nap. "You alright, Mikes?" Gerard asks me, leaning down to be at eye level with me. I nod, the dizziness still apparent. Through the slight disorientation, I see the concern and wariness in Gerard's eyes. I sigh, feeling worse than before. He shouldn't have to worry about me--I'm his brother, not his problem.

"Let's g-go, Gee." I stutter out, pushing myself off of the dirty bar stool. He grabs my arms, helping me up. I lean on him, the world moving underneath my feet. With the help of Gerard's steady hand, I clumsily stumble and trip out of the packed bar and into his silver convertible. Gerard buckles me in then goes around and sits in the driver's seat.

We sit there, unmoving for a few minutes. Gerard stares ahead, not looking at me, shoulders shrugged slightly. "What do you want, Mikey?" he mumbles, still staring straight ahead. I look to him, eyes slightly bugged in order to see him correctly. Silently, I wait for him to continue, knowing he wasn't really expecting me to answer. He sighs. "What do you want that will help you?" He looks over to me, a helpless look in his eyes. "Tell me, please. I...I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." He lets out a humorless chuckle. "I-I mean, leaving the phycologist's office to go get drunk? That isn't you, Mikes. What is it?"

My head pounds, making it hard to think. I open my mouth, forming words, but not speaking them. Fuck, say something. You're scaring him! I swallow, taking a deep breath and swaying slightly in my chair. My tongue clashes against my teeth, making speech nearly impossible. My vision swims, forcing me to blink repeatedly. Fuck, those drinks must have aftershocks.

Gerard shakes his head, his hair shadowing his face. "Forget it, Mikey. Let's go back to my house. You can rest up and we'll talk about this later." He revs the engine and pulls out into the street, driving home silently. For the next twenty minutes, we don't speak a word. The radio is off, the windows are up, and we sit there in complete silence, almost ignoring each other. Is this what it's come to? I never wanted this. I didn't want to lose my brother this way; he's become more like my keeper than my sibling. We used to be best friends, laughing and joking. We were so close. Now he thinks he doesn't know me anymore. Why did this happen?

We pull up to his house and he helps me out of the door. I stumble inside his front door with his help. "Come on, you can crash on my bed." We trip and fumble down the hallway, opening the door to his dark room. Posters of Smashing Pumpkins and Misfits liter the walls, covering a pitch black painted wall. I smile at them slightly; Gerard will forever be the die hard rock and roll fan he always was. Gerard lies me down on his dark red comforter and stares at me. After a minute, he sits down next to me and takes my hands in his. "I'm not giving up on you, Mikes. I never have and I never will. I miss you."

I gulp, feeling tears burn my eyes. I miss you too, Gee. Speech still evades me, so I pull him down with my remaining strength and grasp him in a hug. Gerard gasps, but hugs back as tightly as he can. Warm, wet tears fall onto my cheek and I let mine escape, too. He holds me, and I him, in this embrace, not saying a word. We haven't been this close in a while. It almost felt like I was his problem--I still think I'm his problem--but I don't want that. I hate that. I want to go back as we were--those awkward best friends who would read comics together and go to concerts all the time. It's my fault this happened. This is all my fault.

I don't let Gerard go, aware even in my drunken state that if I do, he'll leave me here alone. I miss him too much for him to leave me now. Maybe I'd deserve it, but I need my brother. He never lessens his grip on me, holding me firmly in his arms in our brotherly, long overdue embrace. As out brotherly cuddling stretches on, consciousness slips from me, the need to sleep off all the alcohol I consumed becoming too great. My eyes slowly slide closed, and I snuggle my head in the crook of Gerard's neck. I feel his even breath on my ear--he's fast asleep. I smile, feeling happy for a slight moment before fading into yet another dreamless night with my brother at my side.