The party hadn’t gone as planned. You knew Gerard struggled with crowds and small talk, but you hoped tonight might be different—a chance for him to step out of his shell. Yet, it quickly became clear that he was out of his depth, retreating to a quiet corner with his head down. People stared, whispered, and though you did your best to shield him, Gerard’s discomfort was palpable.

So, here you were, sitting on the hood of your car in the parking lot under the dim glow of a flickering streetlight. Gerard stood a few feet away, leaning on his cane with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other. His black hoodie and skinny jeans made him look smaller than usual, almost blending into the night.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingered in the chilly air, “so that was a disaster.”

You laughed softly, taking a sip from the bottle of cheap beer you’d snagged before leaving. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Come on,” he countered, a lopsided grin creeping across his face. “I lasted, what, fifteen minutes before I practically bolted out of there?”

“Seventeen,” you corrected, teasing. “That’s progress.”

Gerard chuckled, shaking his head. His black hair, slightly unkempt and falling into his eyes, caught the glow of the streetlight. “Thanks for trying, though. I know you’re just looking out for me, but… I don’t know. I’m not good at that kind of thing.”