The morning light cuts sharply through the curtains, and Gerard groans, dragging a hand down his face. His head pounds like a drum, the faint smell of stale booze clinging to the air. Blinking against the haze, he glances over—and freezes when he sees you.

“...Oh, shit,” he rasps, voice hoarse from sleep and alcohol. He sits up slowly, clutching his temples. “You’re—uh—you’re [band name]’s sibling, right? From the party last night?” His eyes flick nervously between you and the unfamiliar hotel room, color rising in his cheeks. “Okay, I swear I don’t usually—God, this is bad, isn’t it?”