Lost

Chapter 8

Mikey yawned and rolled over. He was sleeping on Frank's couch, but he was too long so he was draped over the ends of it. Frank wanted to give him his bed, but Mikey refused. Stubbornly.

He did something he had never done before.

He threatened to break his own guitar. Frank, obviously, was horrified and gave up.

Mikey yawned and stretched. Frank would probably be awake soon, and then he'd make Mikey take those pills.

Mikey hadn't actually listened to what the pills were. For all he knew, they were going to kill him.

He didn't really care.

Whoa, what? 

Since when did he not care about his death? Crap, things were going south quickly.

It wasn't like he wanted to die. He just wouldn't care if he did. That was slightly scary. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt apathy before. He decided he didn't like it, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Mikey sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. He was hungry, but too lazy to get up. His chest still stung a little, but it was much less than it had a few days ago. The pills did help, though.

Oh, man, what if they were the cause of this weird listlessness? That person Mikey talked to every week (who he had now guessed was a counselor or therapist) kept asking if he thought pills should be associated with failure, but he didn't like answering her.

He thought talking to her in itself was a failure. He thought having to live with someone so they could make sure he stayed safe was a failure. He thought he was a failure.

But he didn't tell her that. He just stared into space whilst she talked to him. Maybe it worried everyone? Why did they even care? Mikey didn't know them. Was it because he was in a pretty popular band? He didn't know and it was frustrating.

He heard shuffling upstairs and guessed that Frank was awake now. In the bedroom where Gerard fucked him. Mikey's stomach clenched and he felt sick.

Why would his brother do that? Why, when he knew Mikey liked Frank? It wasn't fucking fair. Great, now he sounded like a four year old. But with a fouler mouth. And better bass skills.

Shut up, he thought glumly. Sighing, he sat up and tucked his feet under the blanket. They'd somehow managed to get out and now everything below his knees was numb with cold. He heard Frank coming downstairs and looked up at him. He knew he looked like shit. It showed in Frank's concerned hazel eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked softly.

"I slept longer than eight hours if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I slept okay," Mikey relented. "No dreams."

"Well that's a change."

"Yeah." Mikey yawned and rubbed a hand over the stubble growing on his jaw.

"Come on, you need to take your... your..."

"Pills? I know what they are, there's no use censoring it." Mikey was grumpy because it was the morning, and morning meant grumpy Mikeys. Plus he hadn't had coffee yet and he basically ran on coffee. It was probably what his blood was made out of.

When he died he'd be reincarnated as a coffee cup. That'd be amazing.

Frank seemed to realize that Mikey was getting distracted again, as he left. When he came back, he had two pills and a glass of water. He held them out to Mikey, who was eyeing them suspiciously.

"What are they?"

"Mikey, surely they explained at the hospital."

"Yes. Wasn't listening though."

"Oh, for—" Frank made a visible effort to calm down. He pointed at the blue pill. "Anti-depressant." Then the red pill. "Heart medication."

Mikey blinked. "I'm not depressed."

"Well everyone says otherwise. Take it."

Mikey looked reluctant, but he put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with some water.

"They're not bad drugs," Frank murmured. "They'll help you."

"I guess Gee constantly talking about pills in a bad way rubbed off on me."

"I'm not surprised." Frank sighed and patted his head. "Come on, I'll make you some coffee."

Mikey's eyes lit up. "Coffee?"

"Coffee," Frank confirmed. He grabbed Mikey's hand and helped him up, then led him into the kitchen. Mikey liked having a proper house rather than living in the tour bus where good food and hygiene went completely out of the window.

And you had a proper coffee machine. Frank had an amazing coffee machine. Mikey probably looked a little weird as he watched the coffee pouring into his mug with a happy expression.

Frank was chuckling softly as he made some breakfast.

"I think coffee is your one true love," he scoffed.

"Not true!" Mikey protested. Frank just snorted and went back to buttering what smelled like toast.

Once Mikey's coffee was done, he grabbed it and drank quickly, ignoring the scalding heat. He just loved coffee. Frank raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's gotta be burning hot."

Mikey finally put the cup down, wiping his mouth. "Yeah. But it's coffee."

"You're so weird," Frank muttered.

"I thought you were the weird one." Mikey drank a little more coffee, this time slightly calmer.

Frank shrugged. "I guess we're both the weird ones."

"Must run in the band or something."

"Maybe." The shorter male handed Mikey some toast and stretched. "You want to do anything today?"

Mikey shrugged and nibbled at a corner of his toast. "Dunno." Frank sighed and finished his own toast, then grabbed Mikey's now empty coffee mug and put it near the sink for washing later.

Mikey put his toast down and ambled into the front room, sitting down on the couch he'd slept on. Frank joined him a few minutes later, scowling and holding his barely eaten toast up.

"Mikey, you need to eat."

Mikey blinked innocently. "I did eat. Just not much."

Frank looked exasperated. "Just eat the toast."

Mikey frowned. "Not hungr—"

He was interrupted by Frank shoving the toast in his mouth.

"Eat," he hissed. Mikey scowled but chewed on the food. He was hungrier than he realised and soon stuffed the rest of it in his mouth.

Frank seemed to relax. He turned the television on to distract Mikey and then walked out to do whatever he normally did. Mikey didn't know.

He yawned and stretched, curling up and watching the shitty programs on the TV. He was easily distracted these days, which was good. He felt trapped by his mind whenever he wasn't.

He yawned and looked up as there was a knock at the door. Frank yelled at him to answer it, so he heaved himself off of the couch.

When he opened the door, he froze.

"Ray?"

"We need to talk."