November 1st (Frerard)

27: Saturday, October 27th

As people we all are so close minded, so zoomed in on our own little section of the universe and life, and of course, that is to be expected, but in that very same way, it is expected to cause fault.

One such stellar example of an aforementioned fault was Kat's inability. Not inability in general, as overall, Kat Way was a very capable human being: doing well in school, with quite a few friends and a boyfriend, but when it came to Gerard and the one immensely important thing that loomed over them as a family, they'd completely missed it.

It was their inability to look and really notice like Gerard did.

Kat didn't notice the signs that it hadn't rained. Gerard had; Gerard had instantly.

Kat didn't look at a person and gather pieces of information about their personality from the way they looked away throughout a conversation, and the marks on their hands. Gerard could and Gerard did.

And most of all, Kat didn't notice the vast change in Gerard, and the didn't consider what could have possibly caused it. They didn't notice all that was in Gerard as they didn't see this as a possibility within him. But it was. It had happened, and the reality was like a punch in the gut, because suddenly everything began to add up.

The pills accounted for a lot.

The hundreds of pills accounted for the whole.

And Kat hadn't noticed at all.

They hadn't noticed Gerard's general decline in mood and trouble sleeping and general downwards spiral, and sudden burst of creativity, and the way he'd gotten through at least a dozen blue pens over the past three months.

They had seen but they hadn't really noticed and they most certainly hadn't added it all together.

The pills did that for them though now, as it lay too late, as the pills lay in their multitudes and Kat contemplated what to say and what to do and whether to run to their mother and tell her all, because she'd freak and they didn't want her to snap out of this 'phase' of decently acceptable parenting, but still they couldn't brush it off and think nothing of it. In fact, that was easily the last thing they'd do.

Gerard disliked confrontation. They knew that very well indeed.

But Kat disliked the idea of Gerard fucking himself up by not taking his meds for literally months, so they were going to fucking have to deal with some form of dislike here.

They just didn't know what to say; they didn't understand it at all, and perhaps the sole thing they could do here was to ask why.

They had laid awake all night thinking it over: having stumbled into an odd kind of trance in which they spent the rest of the day alone in their room on edge; they'd left the draw open, because Gerard would notice, and they wanted him to notice, because they wanted to have this conversation but couldn't bring themself to start it.

But still, come four in the morning, Gerard wasn't home, and perhaps that was even beginning to concern Kat more than the pills had, and that was one hell of a lot, because what the fuck were they supposed to do, because they couldn't force Gerard to do anything and he wouldn't just be doing this for no reason, and they even reckoned that getting him to taking them again might be even out of their control.

But that didn't matter when Gerard wasn't home.

They could worry about the beginning of the conversation and the forming of the solution when their brother faced them, when the front door slammed shut, but it was four in the morning and the house ached with silence, and Kat ached with worry, because a drawer full of pills didn't leave Kat with particularly optimistic speculations as to where and what Gerard could be doing at this time of night, this time of morning, because he'd left sometime in the middle of yesterday, and it had been over twelve hours and-