The house no longer smelled like booze and vomit, for which I was grateful. I already was feeling off today, I didn’t need to toss my cookies in Gerard’s house. Instead of the white noise I had heard over a week ago, I could hear music filtering out from the living room - I recognized the voice singing as his own, and thought it was a little weird that he was listening to his own music. At least he wasn’t wallowing in silence.

I found him on the couch again, sitting up right this time and surprisingly not drunk. It was worse though, he was fiddling with a knife as if he was contemplating how to use it. I stomped over and tore it from his hands without hesitation, and tossed it across the room. It stuck blade-first into the wall with a thud.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, and he looked up at me with red eyes. He’d been crying.

“My life’s a wreck-”

“Because you’re making it that way, you ‘tard,” I reached down and grabbed his shoulders to give him one good shake, “This is it. No more. I want you to stop this. Stop drinking, stop hurting yourself, alright? I’m dumping your alcohol out for real.”

“Okay,” was his quiet reply as I began to search the house for booze. Luckily, he didn’t hide it in obscure places, so it was easy to get rid of. He sat on the couch the entire time, fiddling with his hands as if he was ashamed. He should be, I thought to myself angrily as I watched whiskey swirl down the drain.

Sitting on the couch next to him, I reached for his hands so he would stop picking at his fingernails, “Look, I know you don’t want help, but you need it-”

“I want it,” he interrupted, looking at me through his greasy hair that hung in his face. He looked thoroughly beat, “What you said, it really made sense. The alcohol was the most important thing and it pushed you away and I’m sorry. It’s only been a few months and I think I’m falling in love with you, Olivia. I don’t know what to do,” I felt like the whole world stopped spinning for half of a second, and in that frame of time my stomach dropped.

He’s falling in love with me? I don’t know what was making him spout this, but I hurriedly left the room and slouched on his stair case, tugging on my hair worriedly.

It was all nice and well when I thought about it, but… he couldn’t love me. He couldn’t. I couldn’t do relationships. I pushed people away, I hurt them. I’d hurt Gerard, and he’d go back to drinking and I didn’t want him to turn back to that again. He wasted no time in leaping off the couch and rushing after me. He kneeled on the floor a few steps below me, and reached for my hands to stop my hair-pulling.

“Olivia, look at me,” I lifted my head to lock eyes, and my heart began to break at the desperation on his face. Why was he so dependent on me? Oh, right. He was getting attached, “Don’t give up on me, Olivia. I know I’m not worth it, but I want to be selfish. I want to try, I want you to help me, okay?” I squeezed his hands and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, quietly reassuring him with a shaky voice that he is worth it. It’s funny, I’m having more emotional troubles right now that he was.

“Thank you,” he breathed, helping me stand up before pulling me close. He didn’t smell like booze, but he definitely smelled a little gross, “I love you, Olivia. I love you, I love you.”

I didn’t say anything back.

***

I think I stayed at his house that night. I woke up in his bed, feeling groggy and tired while wrapped in his arms. Gerard had already been awake, and was staring down at me with unreadable eyes. I reach up to push the oily locks off his forehead, and gave him a grimace, “You need to shower.”

“I know,” he reverted back to his quiet tone of voice, and retracted his arms from around me. He shuffled his way into the bathroom without bothering to look for clothes, so I guess that job fell to me. I rifled through his drawers and could only find some moderately clean jeans and a black wife beater. Gerard left the bathroom door unlocked, but I knocked anyway.

The shower started and I heard Gerard close the curtain before calling for me to come in. I set his clothes on the toilet before turning to the mirror and trying to wash my smeared makeup off as best as possible. As soon as the curtain opened, I slapped my hands over my eyes and tried not to peek at him. He laughed and I could practically feel him grin, “You’ve seen me naked before, Olivia.”

“This is different,” I retorted flatly, turning to the corner and pressing my face into it for added effect. He pressed himself against my back and I squealed and wiggled to get him away. Gerard laughed at me again before finally putting on his clothes and telling me to turn around. He leaned down to kiss the corner of my mouth before leading me out of the bathroom by entwined hands.

“Gerard?” I could hear Mikey call to him from downstairs, he came into view as soon as we got to the top of the staircase, “and Olivia.”

Mikey seemed relieved to see me, and even more happy when he saw that Gerard was sober and holding my hand. I gave Mikey a look, and he furrowed his brow at it. I needed to talk to him about Gerard. Just… Not now.

“Hey, Mikey. Wanna go for breakfast?” Gerard’s mood was the best that I had seen in a while, but it didn’t seem to rub off on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had transpired last night. He loved me.

He loved me.

Notes

Thank you for reading, and for the kind comments.