Gerard violently wrenched the door open. He wanted those arms. He could almost feel them holding him, just like they did every time he hit rock-bottom. Frankie was there – waiting to catch him. As he stepped outside, he instantly put his head down – hiding. He couldn't stand to look Frankie in the eyes, and with Frankie – it was impossible not to. He stood frozen outside his mother's door and heard the sounds of traffic and normal people getting on with life. A life that all seemed so surreal and distant to him now.

His spell was broken by the feeling of warmth against him and an arm sliding around his neck. He closed his eyes, not wanting this to be just another drunken fantasy. He needed so much for this to be real. It felt as though his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

"Ger-Gee, honey. I brought my car. I thought you'd be more comfortable there than in a cab. That ok?" the golden voice from his dreams asked softly, almost whispering in his ear. The arm was still around his shoulders, but the warmth had moved from the front of his body to the side. Gerard nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, not ready to open his eyes and find the dream over.

"It's ok, Mikey. I got him from here now," Frank said. Gerard stood, unmoving – his eyes still tightly shut.

"Are you sure?" his brother asked.

"Yeah, we're cool, ain't we, Gee?" Frank gently joked.

"Um, yeah...you, uh...He might need this," Mikey stammered nervously.

Gerard heard the sound of the envelope of money being handed over. That's all he needed to hear to know that he wasn't dreaming. He would never be so prosaic as to dream about money, of all things. That wasn't to say that it didn't have its uses. It did, but it never motivated him in the least. He always found it to be one of life's crude necessities.

He cracked his eyes a tiny bit – still looking down and saw Frank's scuffed Converse teamed with white socks; long pale beige baggy shorts and the bottom of an obnoxiously yellow shirt. That shirt was...well – fucking horrible actually. He grunted and kept his eyes travelling upwards to see Frank still talking to Mikey, giving him time to observe Frank's deep golden tan. His hair was longer, and he was still using his sunglasses to hold it back from his face.

Oh, shit. He's turning around. He can't see me like this. Gerard thought, dropping his adoring gaze once more. Fuck.When's the last time I put a clean shirt on? He wondered to himself before scoffing quietly. Yeah. Like he's never seen me in a two-week old shirt before he remembered through the alcohol haze in his mind.

Frank and Mikey wrapped up their conversation, and Frank dropped his arm from Gerard's neck, allowing the spring air to hit the back of his neck and startle him out of his daze.

"So, um...I better go get mom. Bee will be home soon, and it's better if she misses this," he heard his brother say. Frank's lips tightened into a hard line, but he didn't say anything. He just nodded and leaned forward to open the car door.

"C'mon, Gee. Let's get this show on the road," he said with a smile.

Gerard nodded once silently – still afraid to try and speak around the lump in his throat – and stepped forward, dragging his feet which caused him to knock his shin against the car. Before Gerard even realized what had happened, Frank was there – his strong hands gripping Gerard around his waist, helping him up onto the seat and cool interior darkened by tinted glass. It seemed a safe haven right then, and he was only too glad to bolt for it.

Gerard suddenly noticed that he was in the back of the car – not in the front where he expected to be. The door was shut firmly, but not too loud. Frank made his way around the car, opened the driver's side door, slid inside and adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could see Gerard in the back.

"Umm, Frank," Gerard finally spoke, his voice still sounding dry and sanded, "why am I in the back?"

"I thought you'd be more comfortable back there. You can move around, stretch out those lanky legs of yours and maybe catch some sleep if you want," Frank replied in the mirror.

"Oh," he replied. Makes sense he supposed, as he looked down to see the state he was in. Gerard was glad Frank wouldn't have to look at the fuck up he'd become. The buzz from that morning's vodka started to wear off even more at the realization and the headache hangover kicked in. He laid his head against the window, eyes glazed and cloudy – his thoughts swimming and drowning unconnectedly in the murky mire of his mind.

Frank was shocked.

He kept searching for things to say and kept coming up blank. Mikey had told him it was bad – way worse than the last time all those years ago. He thought he had braced himself, but damn – to see him like this was horrendous. He was so emaciated – just wasted down to a shadow of himself. He seemed smaller than Frank now – hunched and haggard. His skin was deathly pale. His once brilliant eyes were now black sunken holes – a sick parody of the stage make up they used to play with.

Then there was his mind. Was there anything left? Gerard seemed so unresponsive – like an empty house with all the lights left on. Was he still at home? Had they waited too long? He prayed they hadn't – that there was still something left to rescue in this mindless zombie that retained only a passing resemblance to his Gee.

Damn Gerard for not answering his phone or calling back all those times he tried to reach him. After the funeral, he came round every day at first, then gradually fading off six months later, as Gerard never even acknowledged his existence or was passed out blind drunk. It broke Franks heart to see him like that, and he had to still keep up with his own girls, Jamia, his work , setting up the production company - that he had hoped Gerard would have partnered him in. It wasn't that his guys weren't great –they were, but he knew Gee had that spark of genius that would have made it so much more than it was.

He checked the rear-view mirror again and saw Gerard was slumped against the window his eyes shut and appeared to be in a drunken stupor, and he wasn't wearing his seatbelt – that wasn't like him at all.

"Gee, put your seatbelt on will ya?"He asked, trying to keep his tone light, but his only reply was a small snore.

He didn't know how he was going to get through the next 48 hours, but he was determined to do it. He would do everything he could to bring Gerard back. He missed his best friend - no his brother, his...Well Gerard defied definition. He was like a force of nature when he was on form. He wasn't the sort of person who you just 'liked' or 'got along with'. He made you work far too hard for that casual emotion. He polarized people. You either loved or hated him, but he was fiercely loyal, and Frank could easily imagine him ripping the heart out of anyone stupid enough to hurt any of those select few he was closest to.

He had to bring him back to himself he just had to