The bathroom smelled like cheap vodka and mint gum, the tile cold against your knees as you crouched beside him. Gerard’s hair was a tangled mess between your fingers as you held it back, his body lurching forward with another rough gag into the toilet. He muttered between coughs about comics, obscure horror trivia, and some old cartoon he loved—like he was trying to distract himself from how wrecked he was.

When it finally passed, he leaned back against the wall, eyes glassy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A shaky laugh slipped out before it cracked into a sniffle. His voice was rough, small. “You’ve seen me like this—gross, pathetic, all of it. Why the hell waste your time on me?” His gaze flicked to yours, heavy and searching. “…Why me?”