The water in the tub was a deep, disturbing grey, probably from the cigarette ash falling softly from the cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. Smears of red covered the counter and porcelain lining of the tub, causing my heart to drop. The shower was running, serenading the top of his now bright cherry red hair. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief as I realized the red around the bathroom was simply hair dye and not blood.

I rushed forward, getting a closer look. He was fully clothed in one of his nicer suits, now ruined by the murky water. His eyes were half closed and he wasn’t responding to me walking in the bathroom. “Gerard. Gerard. It’s me.” An empty bottle of Jack Daniels was shattered to pieces on the bathroom floor, another half full one in the corner of the shower. I stepped carefully around the one on the floor, pushing aside the curtain to grab his hand. “Wake up,” I pleaded, tugging on his hand.

My phone buzzed when Frank texted me he was on his way. I tossed my phone on the counter, wrapping my arm around Gerard’s torso and draping his arm over my shoulders to try and get him out of the tub. “Charlie? What’re you doing….here,” he breathed. At least he was still alive.

“I’m helping you,” I whispered as we got him out of the tub. I helped him to the ground, far away from the shattered glass bottle. I took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the toilet along with the tie that was already unraveled around his neck. “What the fuck did you do?” I muttered as I checked him over. No cuts that I could see. So far so good.

“I was just having a drink,” he said slowly, his eyes flicking lazily over to the bottle in the corner of the shower. “Why are you here?”

“Frank called and said you weren't picking up and I was worried about you,” I said, my lower lip trembling slightly. I couldn't help it anymore and I hugged him close to my chest at an awkward angle since we were both splayed across the floor. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? Can you stand up?”

“Please don't cry,” he said somberly, his eyebrows knitting together. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“I'm sorry I left,” I mumbled into his chest, tears mingling with his wet shirt. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.”

We sat like that for awhile, his hand eventually finding its way to the back of my head which he began to stroke slowly. “You dyed your hair.”

“I needed a change.”

“You need to drink some water. Can you stand up?” I helped him struggle to his feet, my knees buckling under his weight. “Let's get you out of those clothes.”

“Anytime you want, baby,” he chuckled, evolving into a fit of coughing before sinking to his knees in front of the toilet and throwing up. I guessed that was a good thing.

“I'll be right back,” I said as I stepped out of the bathroom and rushed to the kitchen. My hands were shaking as I filled a glass full of water, some of it sloshing over the sides before I got back next to him. He was standing up now, both of his hands gripping the counter for dear life.

“I need to change.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking about his clothes or not. He was glaring at his reflection in the mirror before I wrapped my arm under his and helped him to his bedroom, perching him on the bed. He kicked the door shut when we heard the front door swinging open and heard Frank call out.

“We're in here, hold on,” I shouted as I unbuttoned Gerard’s shirt, trying to focus on getting him into dry clothes instead of the fact that I was straddling him and taking his clothes off on his bed. I looked down at him and we locked gazes before he turned away, gazing off to the side.

“You're so pretty,” he said quietly. I felt my cheeks grow hot, along with other things.

“You're still prettier.”

“If I hadn't just thrown up now is where I would kiss you.”

I sighed, my breath making my bangs flutter up from my face. “You're making this hard on me.”

“No, you're making this hard on me.” he was looking up at me and I couldn't help but giggle.

“Stop.”

“Only if you undress me.”

We were probably joking more than we should have been, given the current situation. I should have been more serious, more stern with him. But I couldn't bring myself to when my cheeks were the same color as his hair.

“What's happening in there?” Frank's voice was muffled through the door. I helped Gerard wriggle out of his shirt and lowered myself to unbuttoning his pants. I glanced up at him, catching him as he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“Great things, Frankie,” Gerard moaned, letting his head fall back on the bed.

“Oh for fuckssake, Gerard, now is not the fucking time.” Frank opened the door despite Gerard’s protests, freezing when he saw my on my knees with Gerard’s pants around his knees. “Are you fucking kidding-”

“He was in the bath with his clothes on, I'm getting him out of his wet clothes,” I muttered, shooting Frank a glare. He just walked back out to the living room and sat down.

“Gerard, we talked about this,” Frank whined loudly, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Gerard let out yet another sigh as he got to his feet unsteadily, staggering over to his dresser to find a new pair of underwear. I excused myself out to the living room while he change, shutting the door behind me before I sat down next to Frank. “I bet this is how you were planning on spending your first night if spring break.”

I almost brought up how I had barely gotten out of Jessica’s apartment in time, but decided to wait. “There are worse things I could be doing.”

“Worse things than making sure your ex hadn't killed himself?” Frank said quickly before the bedroom door swung up. Gerard shuffled over to the armchair across the living room, his head in his hands.

“Charlotte. Can you please get me a glass of water?” He asked.

“Charlotte isn't doing jack shit for you until you fucking explain what the hell you were thinking,” Frank went to get on his feet but I shoved a hand against his chest to force him back down on the couch, getting up to fill another glass with water. I heard Gerard’s mumbles and Frank's cursing while I took a sip of the water for myself. “So we don't need to take you to the hospital to pump your stomach?”

Gerard was slumped down in his seat when I handed him the glass, lingering when our hands brushed. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“You're sorry? Is sorry going to fix this? You need to stop.” I hauled frank to his feet and dragged him into the entryway

“Look, I get that you're mad, okay? I'm upset too. But lay off him, will you? We can have that conversation another time when he's not...like this,” I vaguely gestured towards the living room. Frank just swallowed, exhaling deeply before fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket.

“I'll be outside.”

That left Gerard and me alone in the apartment. I made my way back into the living room, sitting lightly on the edge of the coffee table closest to him.

“How are you feeling?” I asked tentatively. Gerard let out a bitter lap, eyes still cast down.

“Mentally or physically? Shitty in both departments.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I couldn't stand seeing him like this. He was dwarfed by the armchair and he looked so small, so defeated. I reached a hand out to rest on his knee.

“You can stay.” I didn't know how to respond to that. I was more than willing, and what's more is that I wanted to. Gerard raised his head to gauge my reaction after I didn't fill the silence. “You don't have to.”

I snaked my hand up to intertwine my fingers with his. “But I want to.”

He let out a long breath I hadn't known he was holding as he pulled my hand to his face, running it along his cheek. “Your hands are so soft.”

“I’m sorry.” I finally said.

“For what?” Gerard seemed legitimately confused.

“For leaving. I shouldn’t have. But I didn’t know what to do. And I thought it was the right thing. And it’s only been four days but I’ve been going out of my mind without you.” The words poured out of my mouth before I could shut the floodgates. He gently tugged onto my arm, pulling me into his lap. I curled up, feeling safe for the first time all week.

“You did what you had to do. You...I think you could say I went out of my fucking mind, too. I don’t care if you think you’re bad for me or too much or not enough, or whatever. You’re you, and I love you, and I want you, you’re all I...think about,” he said wearily. His exhaustion was becoming apparent.

“Can you forgive me?” I twirled a strand of neon red hair around my finger.

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

---

I made him drink water while I cleaned the bathroom up. It’s amazing how fast you can work when you’re motivated by sleep. I swept up the glass, wiped up the excess dye even though it had already stained, drained the tub and sprayed bleach all over it, then hosed it all down. I went to the kitchen and promptly dumped the bottle of Jack Daniels down the sink. I ran the garbage disposal in the background so Gerard wouldn’t know what I was doing. We didn’t need to have that talk tonight.

Frank had gone home after I called him back up and talked to him about the situation. He seemed wary when I informed him of my plans to stay with Gerard overnight, but I was fairly certain he was just glad that Gerard wasn’t going to be alone. He’d smoked six cigarettes outside of Gerard’s apartment that night.

I insisted Gerard take a shower because he reeked. I could tell he wanted to invite me to take one with him, but he didn’t. We were going to ease back into this, especially since he wasn’t completely sober and we were both a little crazy. His apartment was a mess. While he was showering, I tried to wrangle some of the dishes that littered the kitchen countertops and at least organize into a somewhat pile the multitudes of canvases he had splashed paint, markers, and other things on.

It both warmed and broke my heart that most of them were of me and my eyes.

Notes