One afternoon, Lyn-Z was back from grocery shopping and began cooking, minding her own business and humming lightly to herself.
Upstairs, there was a noise. She looked up, but the soup was about to boil, so she shook it off and kept on cooking.
There was a second, louder noise. Suspicious now, she poked her head out of the kitchen and listened. She could hear muffled grunts from upstairs. She walked, spoon in hand, to the stairs.

"Stop it, please," she heard someone say. Even from the distance, she could recognize her husband's voice.
"Gerard, are you ok?" she called. There was no answer, except a noise.
"Gerard?" she called again.
"Good job, genius, she knows you're here," Gerard told somebody.
"Not my fault. Remember who invited me?" the other one answered. Lyn-Z recognized Frank's voice.
What's he doing here?, she wondered.
"Gerard?" she called.
"I'm fine, darling. Don't come up," he answered. He sounded a little…breathless. There was a muffled giggle.
"Come back here, we're not done yet!" Frank said.
"Ow, Frank, watch it!" he complained. "She's still down there!"

Lyn-Z gasped in surprise, and then frowned. She stepped on her spot, loudly, like she was leaving.
"Good, she's gone. Now, can we continue?" Frank said.
Of course. Continue; Lyn-Z thought. She took her shoes off and began ascending the stairs slowly, sneakily, like a mouse.
"Ok, on the count of three. One, two…"
"Wait, Gerard, do it slowly."
"If I do it slowly, it will never go in. Now, help me."
"Hey, wait, it's stuck again."
"Ok, help me pull it out, and we'll try again."

Lyn-Z was half-way up, her mind digging out insults, her throat preparing to shout, the spoon in her hand looked like a full-fledged hammer. The door was in sight, open just enough to see the light going out.

"Good job, genius. You dropped the lamp."
"You can pick it up after we get this finished. Now, on the count of three, push!"
"One, two…"
"Ow, wait!"
"No time for that, it's nearly in!"
"But it hurts!"
"Be a man and do it!"

There was a loud bang.

"Phew, that's it. Great job," Gerard nearly purred. They both breathed heavily.

Lyn-Z was half mad, half grossed-out as she cautiously pushed the door open. She poked her head in, bracing her eyes for the sight.
Both Gerard and Frank were standing in front of the bedside table, the former pulling the drawer in and out a couple of times, the latter rubbing his hand. He looked up.

"Oh, Lyn-Z, hi. Sorry to drop in so unexpectedly," he said, smiling.
"No problem, I guess, but what are you doing here, exactly?" she asked, confused by the fact that they were both fully dressed and their hair was not ruffled.
"I invited him," Gerard answered. "We came in while you were out shopping, and he helped me fix the stuck drawer. See? All done." He patted the side of the furniture. "And, sorry that you caught your hand in it, hehe."
"Yeah, it still hurts…" Frank said rather sulkily. "Well, gotta go. Bye Gerard, bye Lyn-Z"
"Don't forget we've got practice tomorrow," Gerard called as his guitarist descended the stairs, two at a time.
"Sure. Till tomorrow!" he called. The door was closed, and then there was silence.

Lyn-Z stood there, watching and not watching as her husband toyed with the fixed drawer, trying to make sense of it all, and giving up. It hadn't made any sense since their backstage wedding.

"Honey…why are you so pale?" Gerard asked, breaking her thoughts. He sounded concerned, then confused.
"And what's the spoon for? And where are your shoes? Are you feeling alright?" He reached for her, and she flinched back.
"Yeah…I'm fine…I'll just, you know, go back to cooking." She exited the room.
As she went back to the kitchen and he changed from the street suit to the house suit, there was a single thought in both their minds:

I'll never figure him out…
…and I love her for that.