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Mike had no idea just how alluring he found Gerry's style until he'd stopped wearing it.
It was sudden, one day Mike went to the kitchen and found that Gerry had dropped the makeup, taken out some of his peircings, had unpainted nails, hair tied up in a bun, dressed in simple clothes. Most would probably still consider him goth or grunge due to how pale and death like he looked along with some peirceings and Gerards clothes being naturally distressed, but Mike could tell this was Gerry's way of dropping it.
He wasn't sure why, Gerry did seem more sluggish, slower in most things he did and he spent an unusual amount of time in bed. Before this sudden change, Gerry wouldn't lie in. He also had been trying to sleep at a good hour, unless he had work or research to do.
Now though, he would stay up late drawing, reading or listening to music and then he'd sleep in, not only sleep far longer, but stay in bed once he was awake. He was eating less and staying with Mike alot more than usual.
Mike was worried to say the least.
They were in the kitchen after another lie in, that Mike would used to have enjoyed, but now it only concerned him. He was sat on the counter top, watching Gerry make tea for them- it seemed even this small task was strugglesome for him. When he comes over to Mike to get the sugar Mike wraps his legs around Gerry's waist and pulls him in for a slow, gentle kiss. Gerry pulls away with a soft smile that had something else knit within it. Something that had been there-not forever, but for a while. Thats when the topic reammerged to Mike.
"Why did you stop with the goth stuff"
He asks casual and soft, hands cupping Gerry's cheeks. Gerry shrugs sluggishly
"Just too tired...I guess"
He replies, its clear theres something else though. After a moment under Mike's soft scrutiny, Gerry sighs.
"I dunno, I just feel real tired....like, do you ever have a couple monthes where you just wanna waste away in bed? Everything's just feel harder, like numb but theres also so much emotion there? -Sorry, its stupid, I know, I know, just need to get on with it..."
He trails off dissmissivly.
"It's not stupid... it sounds like depression Ger"
Mike speaks softly, Gerry was stubborn and felt emotions were weak- Mike did too, but he had his limits, even he would seek help if he was this bad.
"What?"
He laughs with some suprise.
"No, thats some made up shit."
Gerry replies indignantly, stepping away to add the sugar. Yep, there it is.
"No?"
Mike states with confusion and confidence.
"You've been tired, you just said things have been harder, your sleep is so irregular, you're barely eating and you've been here almost every night for 2 weeks- and it's not that I mind you being here, I'm just worried, Gerry."
Gerry rolls his eyes, looking increasingly irratated.
"Mike come on, ive heard about those things and thata how i feel all the time, my mam said that depression and anxiety stuff is all just excuses so people can be lazy. I'm sorry I've been acting like that, I'll get my act together, but I'm not depressed."
Gerry shoots back, firm and clearly offended, Mike notices his hands are shaking and Gerry's getting that look he gets before he freaks out.
"Look, I'm just gonna go, ok?"
Mike doesnt get a chance to reply before Gerry is out the door.
"...Well, fuck."
For the next 2 weeks Mike didn't see or hear anything from Gerry, he was worried if he were honest. He'd known people with depression in college and his mum had it too, but he'd never been in the position of the one to help. After his 20th missed call he decides finally to just go to Gerry's, just to make sure he was alive and ok.
Mike knocked on the door to pinholes 3 times, he wasn't worried about Mary, she was long gone. Finally he remembers he has a key and makes his way in and up to Gerry. He knocks on the bedroom door but hears nothing. When he enters he's only made more concerned.
It was 4pm on a tuesday and Gerry was lieing in bed asleep. The room was a mess and the curtains drawn, even in the dimness Mike could see just how gaunt Gerry was. There was a pile of dishes with half eaten noodles and cups of forgotten water, on the floor there was a couple empty bottles of varying alcohols and stubbed out cigarettes.
Great
Gerry had bandages on his wrists and knuckles which Mike wasn't hopeful came from a lietner chase. In the corner of the room was a chest of drawers with a smashed mirror stood fragily on top, blood crusted the shards thickly, and there was only more on the table top. Mike sighs and sits gently on the edge of his bed, running a hand through Gerry's hair.
"Gerry..."
He calls softly, doing his best to be caring and kind. Gerry's eyes flutter open and he looks at Mike with confusion before seemingly remembering he was mad at him... the anger was barely present though, drowned out by a look of shame, he curls in on himself and Mike ignores the tears he blinks away.
"Ger..."
Mike calls again. Gerry sighs, he everts his eyes, as if that could save him some pride.
"Yea"
He mumbles, almost defeatedly so. Mike hesitates
"It's 4pm"
He states simply.
"Yea"
Gerry affirms. Mike takes a breath, for a man he'd only seen fight; fight for a book, fight to live, fight to help, fight to be better....he looked so intensely out of fight.
"You were still asleep"
Mike observes.
"I was, yea"
Gerry affirms, again. They sit in silence for a moment, then Gerry sits up and hugs Mike.
"..I-....think you were right"
He whispers quietly, his thin pale hands scrunching Mikes jumper, his voice thick with what they both pretended wasn't tears. Mike holds him close.
"I know"
He whispers back. They sit there, Gerry with a broken spirit and wounded pride, Mike with the dawning realisation that he really fucking cared for this idiot.