I must of fallen asleep.
I hadn't meant to.
But then I don't mean to do most of the things I do. I just do them.
I was lying on the sofa on my own curled into a ball with a jacket round me like a blanket. That wasn't the first thing I noticed though.
"Gerard?" I croak into darkness. It's only been an hour or so since I was last awake.
There's no reply.
"Gerard?" I say, louder, my throat hurting.
I get up off the sofa and pad across the room to the door which had been left slightly open, the others are still not back, there would have been some sort of sign if they were.
"Gerard?" I call, feeling like I'm repeating myself and at the same time, feeling quite stupid.
Then I heard a little noise from the bathroom, like someone crying.
I panic straight away. Then knock on the door. Once, twice. Then I wait a few seconds before pushing the door open. It isn't locked.
Gerard is sitting with his back against the shower door, his eyes red and puffy and his ankles scratched and bleeding. He lets out a low sob as he clocks me then wipes away a tear that was rolling down his blotchy cheek.
"What did you do?" I ask, shocked at the bleeding scratches on his ankles.
Gerard held up his hands and showed me bloody finger nails, another tear trickled down his cheek and he let out a little whimper.
"Maybe it would help," he spluttered.
I examined the scratches on his ankles then looked straight into his brown bloodshot eyes.
"That wouldn't help. Ever. You could of just told me if you were feeling down instead of fucking up your ankles," I groan, running a cloth under the cold water tap then dabbing at the scratches.
Gerard took a deep breath and didn't say a word as I clean the little scratches, the redness of the scratches fading despite the few droplets of red still oozing from them.
"That's better. Don't do that again, Gee." I say, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Even if it seems stupid, I'm here for you,".
Gerard laughs manically.
"I get that much from you, Frank." He jitters, holding his hands up to his face.
I frown and look at him. He looks broken. Red lines split across his eyes and black hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. I stand up then reach out a hand to him.
"Lets go back through, it's cold in here," I suggest, smiling down at Gerard for a change.
Gerard takes my hand, my tattooed fingers laced between his own pale white ones. He pulls himself up to his full height, shadowing me as usual, but I still lead him back through to the lounge.
I creak the door open then sigh a sigh of relief, the room is still warm and cosy looking even in the dark. I shut the door and take Gerard back to the sofa where I had fallen asleep and sitting down beside him.
"Now can you tell me what's up?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and biting on my lip piercing.
Gerard slumped back in the sofa and folded his arms.
"Amafreek," he mumbles, frowning.
"What?" I ask, just hearing a blur of nonsense as he speaks.
"I. Am. A. Freak." He says slowly, his eyes burning into mine.
I shake my head.
"How?"
He shrugs. Then pulls me into a hug.
"Like I said. I'm a freak. And honey, you're maybe the last hope for me," He whispers into my ear, his lips brushing against my stretched lobes.
I shiver and stay still, unsure of how to react to Gerard's attention.
"You're not a freak. You're my best fucking friend." I tell him, play punching him.
He grins like a cat.
"Yeah. That sure sounds good. Yes, Frank. You're my best fucking friend."
I swallow hard.
