Burn Like Stars

“I’m not a fucking slap bracelet if that’s what you’re trying to determine,” Gerard says.

“This isn’t even a weird stretch, Gerard. You really need to leave that aggression at the door,” Ray says, sighing as he lets go of Gerard’s knee. Always the same with this one, an absolute fucking delight of a person.

“I told you I felt it, why’d you have to bend me like an inflatable car dealership man?” Gerard looks at Ray, whose bent over his leg, bending it in a way that looks ridiculous to Gerard.

“I literally told you that I had to bend it because you felt it, Gerard.”

“I don’t like the way it feels,” Gerard says. Ray wants to slap him in the face right there. Doesn’t like the way it feels. You felt it at all, didn’t you motherfucker?

Ray points to a spot right above Gerard’s knee, “You know, if I were to just stab you right here you’d probably like that less, but only one of those two options are designed to help you, and if you keep being a dick to me, I might conveniently forget which is which.” Ray, with a look of total seriousness on his face looks up at Gerard, who has crossed his arms. The look on Gerard’s face is defiant with the dare in his eyes. It reads so clearly. Injure me, I need some sort of income to pay for my bills and the lawsuit would do just fine.

“I wish so much that I could kick that stupid look off your face right now.”

Ray doesn’t say anything at that, he’s definitely not worried of that happening any time soon. He just bends Gerard’s leg the way he’d been trying to do in the first place. Gerard doesn’t resist as much this time. Maybe it’s because he’s run out of comebacks, or maybe it’s because he knows Ray is actually trying to help him, but either way he only relents with a look of utter distaste on his face. He does the same for several minutes, bend it, put pressure here, do you feel that? Well how about this? Gerard responds with a mixture of fart sounds and some really hardcore moaning.

The room isn’t not full, like there are a couple of other people who are also being treated so Gerard is definitely making it a spectacle. Odd, usually Gerard hates being a spectacle. Right now, he wants everyone to know that he’s just a really shitty person.

“You know what, I think we’re done for the day,” Ray says after Gerard calls him daddy for the second time.

“But I need the good doctor to give some feeling to this lifeless body,” Gerard says, and bats his eyelashes at him so convincingly that Ray actually feels acid rise in his throat, ready to eject right onto Gerard’s smug goddamn face. Wouldn’t that put him in his place, though? If only.

“I’m ignoring that,” Ray says, and then grabs his clipboard and begins flipping through his notes. “Ready for the survey?”

“I didn’t study, do you think there’s anything I can do for… extra credit,” Gerard licks his lips, really trying to pin down that porn star audition tape he’s gunning for. People have weird kinks, there’s a market for him yet.

Ray rolls his eyes. Just a regular Wednesday. “Moving on. Sleeping?”

“With you? I would love to!” But the truth is he’d rather swallow a porcupine whole.

“No, are you sleeping?” Ray corrects, even though he knows that Gerard knew exactly what question he was asking.

“Oh yeah, all the time. I thought about selling the Ambien to pay for Felicia’s boob job, but I love the feeling of being dead for eight hours just too damn much.”

“Ah yes, Felicia, what was she again? A stripper? A car wash attendant?”

“She’s a ballerina by day, but a dominatrix by night,” Gerard replies.

“Wow, I’d love to meet her once they give me the mushrooms I’ve been asking for to get through my appointments with you. That’s the only way I’d be able to talk to your imaginary friends.”

“She’s lovely, makes a mean paella.” Ray writes in his notes that Gerard is sleeping just fine. Afterall, if it really were bad, he’d probably be an asshole in a different way. Gerard has two types of assholes behind his personality. Either he’s an asshole that wants something from you but is too much of a dick to ask for it nicely, and an asshole who does it because he is just a bitter asshole.

“Normal appetite?”

“The only thing I hunger for is your-”

“Nope, no, no, definitely not, we’re not going down that road.”

“Spoil sport. My appetite is fine.”

“Cool. You ready for the awkward questions?”

“If you’re trying to ask me whether my dick works or not, you don’t need to beat around the bush, my ears aren’t going to fall off from the depravity of it. Without the sugar that makes the medicine go down, it gets happy when you rub it. Less crass, I guess maybe it’s a little more difficult for me to get to where I want to be, but all it takes is a little effort and some cold, hard, lubed up dedication. Oh, and a photo of you never hurts.” Gerard winks.

“Wow I want to burn my eyeballs, and it was only a mental picture you painted.”

“You’re the one who wants to know about my dick,” Gerard replies, because in fairness, Ray asks him these questions all the time and there’s only so many times you can say it works kind of okay before it gets tedious. People don’t like to talk about their dicks, they just like to play with them.

“Gerard, I know this might seem a little uncomfortable to talk about, but this is important in determining how your recovery is likely to span out.”

“It’s not uncomfortable. Who doesn’t want to talk about their dick to a doctor every other week? I’m fine, it’s totally fine. Next you’re going to ask about my shit.”

“Do you want to talk about your shit? Is that what you want, Gerard, because, like I’m here to help you, and make your body work better, and if you want to talk about shitting then we can, because it’s kind of important, but I have a feeling you’re just being a jackass,” Ray says, which is fair.

“You’re my doctor, are you supposed to be calling me a jackass?”

“I’m your physical therapist, Gerard, not your doctor. If I was your doctor I would be paid way more to put up with you.”

“Oh fuck you,” Gerard says.

“I love our little chats,” Ray says, rolling his eyes.

“My shitting is great, Ray.”

“You know what, Gerard, this isn’t even sarcasm, but I’m happy for you. Maybe less shit will come out of your mouth that way.”

“Christ,” Gerard says, shaking his head, “I hope you die.”

“If it brings me the sweet escape from you, I will invite Death for afternoon tea.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an asshole,” Gerard says, putting his fingers to his temples, and rubbing them there for a second.

“Back at you,” Ray replies. He looks back down at his clipboard and determines that Gerard’s not going to give him any more than he already has. Three days a week and this is about how far they make it every time. It’s all going to be fine, Ray tells himself. Gerard will level out, that’s what he keeps telling himself. Ray scribbles notes that only a doctor could read, while Gerard makes faces at him, waiting for Ray to finish up. When you live an already tedious life, boring things are just unsaintly. Finally, he looks up and then down at Gerard, who’s still lying on the ground, right where Ray had left him.

Ray sighs, then remembers to lighten up a little because the worst part is over. “So, jackass, was it Chipotle or Panera?”

“I just want a Big Mac.”

“Listen, Gerard, as your physical therapist, I’m not letting you shovel anything with that many calories into your mouth.”

“What about as my best friend?” He bats his eyelashes all pretty and doe like, and Ray could punch that innocence right off of his face without losing sleep.

Ray sighs, very long and drawn out, “only if you don’t get fries.”

“Cool. Two Big Macs it is,” Gerard says, giving him an obnoxious grin.

“Oh my god, you’re my stupidest patient I’ve ever had,” Ray says standing up, and looking around at the walls as if they’ll give him the advice he needs, but they won’t, because they’re assholes who only think about themselves. “Don’t tell Mikey I’m letting you do this. And we’re not doing it again for like another month.”

“That’s what you said last week when I wanted that onion blossom.”

“I wish I wasn’t such a fucking pushover. Just stay there while I go grab my keys.”

“Well, I’m not going to run away,” Gerard says, gesturing to the floor. He’s just sitting there, looking like a good little second grade boy who’s about to be read a story by his teacher, but instead he’s just a helpless twenty something who’s got too much pride to ask for help. He needs help, and it might just have slipped Ray’s mind that he needs help, but he’ll be damned if Gerard is going to say the actual word.

“You going to say please, or is my job a thankless one?” Ray says, when he looks down at him, having realized his mistake. He does this for a living, helping people who struggle with the same things as Gerard, but six months in and he’s still not used to it being Gerard. Strangers, that’s fine, it’s sad and he wants to help them, but this is Gerard. It’s very different when it’s Gerard who needs help.

Gerard shrugs, looking around him as if to see if there’s anyone here who could overhear the two of them. It would seriously damage Gerard’s cred if he were to say something nice to someone. He’s kind of got this reputation for being the biggest asshole at this clinic, and he’s really not ready to sacrifice that over some simple pleasantries.

“Pretty please,” Gerard says, once he determines there’s no one close enough to overhear, “help me up.”

Ray nods, accepting even this sarcastic response as a win for his team. He walks over to where he left Gerard’s chair, by the wall that doesn’t give any advice. He wheels it back, and then comes the unceremonious bit where he has to lift Gerard from the floor into the chair. It’s definitely not fun for either party involved, Ray sticking his hands right under Gerard’s armpits and then drags him up. All the actual effort is given to Ray, because it’s not like Gerard’s legs are going to help any. Gerard would never admit to needing help, or at least, not from Ray anyway, but he really hasn’t got the upper body strength for this particular endeavor yet. He’s working on it, but Gerard’s life is a work in progress.

The end result is always disappointing, though. Gerard claws out of his bed, into the chair. Gerard claws out of the bathtub, into the chair. Gerard claws out of the car, into the chair. Gerard is pulled off the floor, into the chair. It’s always the same goddamn thing. Congrats! Now you’re just in a new trap. The fucking wheelchair.

“Hey buddy,” Gerard says, talking to the wheelchair itself, and patting the arm rest, “long time no see.”

“You two keep it PG while I grab my stuff, okay?” Ray says, and Gerard waves a hand at him, a ‘get lost’ sort of gesture.

Gerard sits there. An awfully overrated thing. Sitting. Very simple, a lot of people treasure it, but those people are pieces of shit, and Gerard doesn’t want to be friends with them. He reaches around him for where he left his phone. Not in his pockets, because Ray doesn’t let him keep his phone in his pocket during their sessions. The first time, it was a “do you have a flat dick or are you just really excited to see me.” To which Gerard had replied that that didn’t make any sense, and then after that Ray told him he couldn’t have it, because apparently he’s supposed to be paying attention during his physical therapy session, not playing Candy Crush Saga.

“Ah fuck,” Gerard sighs, when he determines he’s probably sitting on it. He doesn’t feel it underneath him. It’s not a pea and he’s not a princess. He doesn’t feel a whole lot of things below the waist, and that eats him up every single day of his life thank you for asking. This is where that arm muscle that he doesn’t have yet would really come in handy. First, being the smart cookie that Gerard is, he lifts his entire body with both arms, and then realizes he can’t grab his phone when both of his arms are being used to hold his weight up. The second try goes a little bit better, as he leans over to one side, finds the phone, and tugs on it, but his ass is crushing it, so it’s definitely a mission.

“If you’re scratching your balls, I can come back another time,” Ray says when he walks back in to see Gerard’s hand all the way under himself.

“Got it,” Gerard says, holding up the phone, victory on his face.

“At least you’re pretty,” Ray says, and goes to stand beside Gerard. That’s another thing about Gerard that you’ve got to learn fast. A well-intentioned person might mean to push Gerard’s chair, because surely it gets tiring having to push yourself all the time, but if you try to do this to Gerard he will run over your foot repeatedly and accuse you of trying to kidnap him.

“Could you tell that to all the singles in the tri-state area?” Gerard says, and the two of them begin making their way to the elevator doors. They go past the other people who are receiving their physical therapy, and all of them seem to be in much better moods than Gerard, but that’s the way he wants it. Ray waves at a few of his coworkers, who all look at him and then at Gerard and they get that look in their faces. Oh, it’s that guy. There was that one day when Ray was out of town, so Gerard was pawned off to someone else, and he almost made that guy cry. The only person who can bear him is Ray, and that’s probably because he’s known Gerard for over a decade.

To be fair, Gerard didn’t used to be like this at all. Ray remembers happy, bubbly, carefree Gerard and it’s almost like two different people. Gerard was the most fun guy to be around in the whole world once. The two of them had dominated their own little circle. Gerard started the Magic the Gathering club on campus and to this day that’s his legacy. One time, he and Gerard drove all the way to Chicago during a long weekend because Ray’s mom had told him that she’d discovered the best pizza in the world there, and they wanted to prove her wrong because the pizza you could get at the convenience store by their apartment was the best pizza in the world. They had been wrong, that pizza in Chicago really was the best pizza in the world.

But now, Gerard doesn’t even like going to the movies. Every now and then he or Mikey will be able to convince him to leave the house for something other than going to the doctor, or therapy, but there isn’t the same life inside of him. It used to be that he would talk about anything with a smile tugging at his lips. He was going out there, pitching his ideas to Cartoon Network or whoever would listen, and he was so vibrant. When he was pushing it on rent and could only eat Ramen, he just shrugged and that was fine, it was what it was. After the accident though, he just… lost who he was, lost what made him happy.

He doesn’t really make art anymore. Back when he lived in his apartment, he had used the second room as his studio. You could hear the record player going and Gerard singing along from outside the front door. Now, it’s all the same. He lies in bed, reads a lot of books, while the record player gathers dust. Mikey had offered him his home office to use as a studio, but Gerard didn’t want it. Gerard has started watching soap operas? No one can explain it. Sometimes Mikey gets home from work and will just find Gerard watching The Young and the Restless, and it’s insane. Gerard didn’t used to do that. Sometimes it seems like he’s not even watching them, he’s just got the TV on and he’s staring at it for something to do, but he couldn’t tell you what’s going on.

Every now and again, Ray will think about it all, and it gives him this uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It’s like you get in a horror movie, when you know something bad has happened, only nothing bad is about to happen, it’s just a lurking feeling. Maybe it’s loss. Maybe it’s grief from the fact that Gerard simply isn’t himself anymore. Gerard wasn’t the one who died that day, but in a lot of ways, he was.

“You’re looking at me like that again,” Gerard says in the elevator, and it kicks Ray back into reality. He hadn’t even realized he had drifted.

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

“Stop fucking imagining me with working legs, I can tell you’re doing it and I hate it.”

“I literally said sorry, what more do you want from me?” The elevator stops on their floor at that, and the doors open, to expose people standing there waiting, so Gerard cannot say what he really wants to say to Ray at this given venture.

As they make their way towards the door to employee parking, Gerard snarls, “if you pity me one more goddamn time I swear to god I will take a nail gun to your face and spell out the word dick.”

“Oh, that one’s new, were you working on that one last night?”

“Yes, if you want to know, I made a list.”

“Any other highlights I should be made aware of.”

“Um, off the top of my head… I’ll superglue your hands to your nipples or I’ll stick an Amazon Echo up your ass and ask it to play Deep Impact.”

Ray nods, and he presses the handicap button for the door before Gerard does that thing of trying to open it by himself and getting his chair stuck in the door. “Very colorful.”

“Well you know me, got nothing better to do,” Gerard says, and fuck if that ain’t the saddest shit you’ve ever heard.

Notes

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