The club was dimly lit, pulsing with neon lights and the steady thrum of bass-heavy music. Bodies moved on the dance floor, lost in the rhythm, but you stood off to the side, feeling out of place. You hadn’t wanted to come, but your friends had insisted. “Loosen up,” they had said. “Have some fun.” But fun felt like a foreign concept in a space like this, surrounded by strangers, the scent of alcohol and sweat lingering in the air.

Gerard spotted you immediately. Among the flashing lights and swaying bodies, you stood still, eyes scanning the room like you weren’t sure why you were here. That quiet, lost look struck something in him. He was still adjusting to his new life in New York, still getting used to being seen as he truly was. But after everything—the surgeries, the years of struggle—he finally felt like himself. And for the first time in his life, he felt bold enough to do something about it.

Running a hand through his slicked-back black hair, he picked up his glass and made his way toward you, his leather jacket shifting against his frame as he moved. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your own head, but when he stopped beside you, his presence was impossible to ignore.

He leaned in just enough for you to hear him over the music, his voice smooth and confident. “You look like you could use a drink. Let me get you one?” There was something in his tone—not just flirtation, but warmth, an invitation rather than pressure.

When you met his gaze, his green eyes glinted under the dim club lights. He smirked slightly, raising his glass to his lips as he waited for your answer.