A hand rested on my back and I finally looked up to see my pursuer, or Gerard, as I soon realised.

"You're unusually skittish tonight," he commented, hooking his hand under my arm and pulling me up. My knees felt sticky and cold. I looked down at them and saw a graze on each knee. It was a similar story for my hands and my toes were quickly turning black. As I looked back up at Gerard, his smirk slipped. "Are you okay?"

"No," I complained in a childish voice, "my knees hurt."

Gerard also looked down at my bare legs and saw the damage. He winced, before saying, "c'mon, let's go get some bandages." He took hold of my arm again and helped me walk back the way I came. It turned out the bush I fell in marked the end of his garden. He guided me up the path to his door and I walked inside, barely bending my painful knees. I was led through a small living room plastered with photos of two young boys, into a kitchen at the back of the house and ordered to sit down at the humble round table. Gerard spent a few seconds rummaging around in one of the top dark wood cabinets and then pulled out a roll of bandage and the antibacterial stings-like-a-bitch stuff.

"You're not putting that on my legs," I stated, eyeing the brown liquid he was brandishing.

"The sidewalks around here aren't too clean. Unless you want to catch rabies or something, I'd suggest you let me use it," he smiled sadistically. I scowled, crossing my arms, but didn't protest. Gerard set to work, ignoring my howls of pain as he disinfected my raw knees. He snapped, telling me to stop being a baby, when I kicked my legs out in pain and accidentally caught his foot with my stiletto heel. I stopped moving and instead took to gripping the edge of my seat until my knuckles turned white.

Gerard finished bandaging my legs and then began cleaning up my hands. Every once in a while he would shake his head at my whimpers.

"There," he said, placing the bloody cotton ball down on the table to join the others. He looked down at my blackened toes, but I cut in.

"You are not touching my feet." Up until now, my words had been slurred, but I said them with such force they were clear of any drunkenness. Gerard shrugged and began tidying away the medical kit.

"So why we're you so jumpy?" He asked as he scooped the used cotton balls into the trash. I shrugged, watching him work. "Something happen?" His question was innocent enough, but I was reminded of our conversation earlier and realised he was digging for something.

"Can we drop the overprotectiveness, Gerard?" I sighed, picking at the blue cushioned seat underneath me. Gerard stared at me blankly.

"What overprotectiveness?" He asked, his eyebrows raised in fake innocence.

"What's your problem with Dean?"

Gerard shook his head to say he didn't know what I was talking about. I glared at him but couldn't be bothered to argue, the sick feeling in my throat was returning. We fell into silence, as we usually did during our encounters, whilst Gerard tidied the kitchen and I sat admiring his house. The walls were an off-white colour with dark units and a slate floor that Gerard was dashing around in an attempt to remove any evidence of me. A noise upstairs pierced the silence and made us both jump; Gerard kicked into action.

"Bedroom, now," he whispered, pointing to the door we had just walked through.

"Naughty," I commented, amusing myself. He angrily told me to be quiet and ushered me into the hallway and down a flight of steps. I staggered down them but he kept his hands on my shoulders to stop me from falling. A light clicked on upstairs just as I was hidden from view underneath the stairs I had just stumbled down. Gerard stared at me, his eyes urgent as he brought his finger to his lips.

"Gerard?" A woman's voice rang out.

"Yeah mom?" He called back, retracing his steps and flicking another light on.

"Oh good, you're home."

Gerard and his mother continued conversing whilst I stayed in hiding, my nausea getting stronger and stronger. I hoped they would be done talking soon because the Jägermeister from earlier had decided to stop being my friend. I waved at him frantically between the gaps in the stair treads and his voice faltered slightly.

"Are you okay?" Gerard's mother asked. Gerard looked wide eyed at me, then back upstairs and nodded.

"Yeah, just...tired."

"I'm not surprised, it is four in the morning. Well, goodnight Gee."

"Night mom."

The door upstairs snapped shut and the ceiling creaked as Gerard's mother made her way back to bed.

"GerardI'mgoingtobesick!"

"Ah shit," was the only thing he could say. He stood there looking around the room for a moment, then rushed over to me and began helping me back up the stairs. When we reached the door, he opened it gingerly and poked his head out. I now had to cover my mouth and close my eyes to prevent myself from throwing up all over Gerard and his room. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he hurried me back out into the corridor and towards another door that stood slightly ajar. He pushed me through it and pulled on the light cord. I instantly dropped to the floor and spat the awful taste out of my mouth into the toilet bowl. The aftertaste of pure alcohol made my stomach turn even more. I heard the door close behind me and thought Gerard had left, but then I heard the sound of a faucet switching on and a glass of water was set down beside me. My hair, which had fallen out of it's neat plait a long time ago, was pulled back behind my head and I sat up gingerly, quivering for a reason I didn't know.

Gerard looked sadly at me, still holding my hair. I took a sip of water.

"Better?" He asked. I stared blankly at him and then shook my head.

"I feel like shit."

"How much have you had?" he chuckled at my misfortune and let go of my hair. Sadistic bastard.

I shrugged. "Charlotte and her fucking Jäger. Never again."

"Yeah, yeah."

He helped me to stand and then told me to go back to his room. I did as he said and left him standing in the bathroom. I managed to get myself to the bottom of the steps without injuring myself too much; I snapped my nail as I frantically tried to grab the banister before I fell and I missed the bottom step and went over on my almost-healed ankle, but other than that I was relatively unscathed. The shoes were the root of my problem, so I began to hop about whilst undoing the straps, losing my balance and falling on the bed. The mattress was so comfortable I didn't even bother taking my other shoe off, I just laid there and let my eyes flutter shut.

"I guess you've claimed the bed," I heard Gerard's voice say in the distance. I mumbled, forcing my head further into the covers before realising I was going to sleep and sitting bolt upright. Gerard stood in the middle of the room holding a bucket, a blanket and two pillows. He had changed into combat pyjama pants and a black shirt.

"Oops!" I said, trying to stand up but forgetting I only had one shoe on and tumbling forward. Gerard dropped what he was carrying and caught me just before I collided with the dark carpet. He laughed again as I apologised. "Sorry! I didn't mean to! I couldn't get my shoe off!" The statement made perfect sense to me, but probably not to anyone else; being unable to take your shoe off was not a valid reason for commandeering someone's bed.

"Don't worry about it," he said, sitting me back down, "I was going to take the floor anyway."

"You sure?" I asked, not wanting to take his bed away from him - it was, after all, his bed. He nodded, picking the bucket up and giving it to me. I smiled a little but hoped I wouldn't be needing it. Before sorting his bedding out, he kneeled down and unclasped the buckle at my ankle with one hand. I bit my broken fingernail sheepishly and kicked my shoe to the side.

"I guess you'll be needing this," he picked up one of the shirts folded on top of his dresser and threw it to me. I caught it, stared at it for a moment, and then back at him. He realised my problem and covered his eyes, turning his back to me. I quickly peeled the skintight dress away from my body and threw the shirt over myself. Gerard was bigger than I thought he was - the shirt practically came down to my knees.

"You can look," I said as I climbed under the black bed covers. The light went out and I heard light footsteps make their way back towards me.

We laid there in silence for a while. I thought Gerard had gone to sleep, so I didn't say anything. My eyes grew accustomed to the dark and I started to make out shapes. Basements were creepy at night time, I didn't like it and pulled the bed covers up to my chin, hiding my neck from any potential monsters.

"Evie?" Gerard's voice rang out. I stopped fidgeting and listened.

"Yeah?"

"You never answered my question earlier."

My eyebrows knitted together. I couldn't remember what he was talking about. "What question?"

"Did anything happen?"

"No."

My answer prevented any more questions. I wasn't sure if he was satisfied with my reply or whether my irritated tone told him I didn't want to talk about it. As I laid staring at the dark ceiling, something unexpected popped into my head.

"Nah Evie, it's what he wants," Charlotte's voice stirred in my memory, "apparently his brother walked in on him trying to hang himself or something. That kid is messed up; he shouldn't even be allowed near people."

"Gerard?"

"Hm?"

The large amount of alcohol must have loosened my tongue, because the words tumbled out of my mouth before my brain even registered them as hurtful. "Did you really try to kill yourself?"

I heard a swift movement and the harsh light reappeared, burning at my eyes. Gerard was stood at the foot of the stairs, his hand still resting on the light switch and his eyes were boring into me.

"Who told you that?" His words came out quickly through tight lips. Only then did I realise the consequences of not thinking before I speak. I blinked a few times, frowning as my words refused to come out. I stuttered, thinking of the right words to say. "Well?"

"Charlotte did," I said desperately, "Gerard, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Why would you even ask?" He spat out, his expression hard.

I stared back at him, my heart in my throat. Why did I ask? Because I'm drunk and I didn't think? No, because it's something that I needed to know. I had to know because... "Because I worry about you."

In that instant, Gerard's expression softened. His frown eased and his clamped lips relaxed. "What?"

I looked down at the white hands that were clutching the bed covers in my fright. Gerard came to sit next to me, staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite make out. He put one hand on either side of my legs and stared right at me, removing any chance of escape. "You worry about me?"

I couldn't meet his eyes, so I just continued to stare at my hands that were now in shadow due to Gerard's chest. Gerard dipped his head to look into my eyes that I had hidden beneath my hair, but I continued to avert my gaze.

"I'm going to sleep now," I said, trying to lay back down, but Gerard's arm pressed into my side to stop me from rolling over. The whole time I still had my hair covering my face, so he brought his hand up to my chin and roughly tilted it upwards. I glared at him, my eyes hard, but without really understanding what was happening, I found his lips pressing into my own.