It was a mistake. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself. You had gotten completely hammered at a party alongside your best friend, Gerard, and as a result… well you had sex. And it was great (from what you remember).

But you’d gotten into an argument since then and you’d told him that it was a drunken mistake and it meant nothing. Obviously, you two had left it on a sour note and you hadn’t spoken since.

You’d lied to his face. It wasn’t a mistake and it didn’t mean nothing. The truth was? You were scared. You’d seen how your parents had turned out, stuck in a loveless marriage, trapped in a household where they don’t even speak to each other. And they were highschool sweethearts too. So where did that leave you and Gerard? In the same predicament?

A week later and you’d gone to another party. You hadn’t gotten as drunk this time, but you were sufficiently smashed enough to have a careless one night stand.

And now, Gerard stood in your room, having climbed through after having another tormenting nightmare and hoping to receive comfort, only to see you in bed with another guy. A stranger, for that matter.

Clearly your strenuous activities had stolen your energy, because both you and the boy were passed out in bed.

“What the fuck.” Gerard said at his normal volume, which sounded ten times louder at night.