"...I don't know what to do, Frank."

"Is he asleep?" I asked, my fingers running through Gerard's hair, as his head was on my shoulder.

"That's pretty much all he's done since we got here." Brendon sighed down the phone, and I changed hands with the phone, my right hand weaving through stray tendrils of inky hair. Gerard was asleep, so he couldn't hear what I was saying to Brendon, which was probably a good thing. "I'm scared he won't wake up."

"He has woken up sometimes, though, right?"

"To pee and to drink and to eat and to complain that he's in pain, yeah. I ask him when he's next got to go into hospital, but he just waves me off and won't answer. It's not that he's getting grumpy, he's getting...lifeless." His voice wobbled, and I felt my heart wrench. "I hate this, Frank. I hate it so fucking much."

"I know, Bren; I know. But -"

"I'd better go." He cut me off with yet another sigh. "He's waking up. I'll call you later."

"Okay. See ya."

He hung up and I set my phone on the nightstand, hearing Gerard make an incoherent noise as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His hand rested on my bare hip, his breath falling across my collarbone. I pressed a kiss against the top of his head, just as his hand slipped down my pants. It just rested innocently on my crotch...until he started moving it, of course.

I took his hand from my pants and placed it back on my hip, feeling him smile. "Cockblock." He murmured, and I rolled my eyes.

"Whore." I replied, and he chuckled sleepily, rubbing his very awake trouser area against my thigh. "How are you so horny?"

"I was having a great dream until your voice pulled me out of it." He murmured, pulling himself closer to me. "It involved your face being buried in my crotch and your pretty mouth being the best fucking thing in the world."

"You have weird dreams."

He scoffed. "You would have the same sort of dreams if you were me."

"No I wouldn't."

"Shut up."

He rubbed himself harder against my leg, and I rolled my eyes. "And there was me thinking that we could have a loving cuddle for once."

"I have a raging boner; I can't cuddle right now."

Is it socially acceptable to poke your boyfriend in the eye?

"You're impossible."

"You refused to have sex with me last night, can you blame me?"

"Oh, shut up. Go have a shower or something."

"Why can't you help me?"

I rolled my eyes. "With the shenanigans you pulled yesterday? I'm surprised I let you share the bed with me at all."

"You're cruel." He grumbled, his fingernails digging into my hip. "You never pay attention to my needs. You just don't care, do you?"

"How old are you?"

"You don't appreciate me, you don't love me, you're just so mean to me! I do wonderful things for you and when I need you, you don't care!"

"Shut up, Gerard." He whined, burying his face in the crook of my neck once more. "While you're being an ass, I'm going to get something to drink." He reluctantly let go of me, lying back and scowling. "Do we have any juice?"

"Check the fridge. Just don't make out with it."

I rolled my eyes, leaning over and rooting through the nightstand for the handcuffs. It might not be socially acceptable to poke your boyfriend in the eye, but it's definitely socially acceptable to handcuff your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend to the bed.

It is to me, anyway.

I waited for a minute or so, until he'd drifted off into a vague sleep-like state, and then hooked one end of the handcuffs to the bedpost, before picking up his wrist and putting that through the other end. He didn't stir, either knowing what I was doing and playing along, or not knowing what I was doing at all. I hoped for the latter.

I padded downstairs after finding a shirt, seeing Bert sat at the table with his forehead on his folded arms. There was a mug of coffee beside him, but it looked both untouched and cooling.

"Hey, you okay?" I found myself asking, frowning a little.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He mumbled. There was a pause, and then - "I don't even know anymore."

"Do you want me to get Gerard?"

He shook his head. "Nah, it's okay." Just then, there was a cry of 'God fucking damn it, Frank!', and Bert shifted so one bloodshot eye peeked out from beneath his greasy mane. "What did you do?"

"I, uh, handcuffed him to the bed." One eyebrow rose. "He was being a pain in the ass." He made a noise of understanding, and I went over to the fridge. "So what's up?" I asked, getting myself a glass of orange juice and sitting opposite him.

"It's nothing." He raised his head, running a hand through his tangled mess of hair. "I'm just hungover." His eyes filled with tears, and he pressed the heels of his hands into them. "And probably still a little high. Ugh."

I sipped at my juice, watching him carefully. "Rough night?"

"You could say that." He set his hands down and cupped his mug of coffee. "You know your life is fucked when you actually begin to look forward to sitting on your own and drinking until you pass out. A good night is when you have a decent supply of alcohol. A great night is when you have a few pills."

I hesitated before speaking, chewing on my lower lip. "You shouldn't - you don't have to -" I knew I wouldn't have said any of this had Gerard been with us, but...

"I know I don't have to." He gave me a wan smile, raising the mug to his lips. "But it's the only thing that makes me feel better. The way you - you - y'know, used to -" he bit his lip, gesturing towards my arms. "- that's what drinking does for me."

"It's not a good method of coping, dude."

"I know. Just don't...don't let yourself get like this, okay? I don't like you, but you're a good kid; don't ever let yourself get like this. Promise me."

"I don't like you either, but...you don't deserve this. You should get help."

"I'll promise if you promise."

I shrugged. "Okay, yeah. I promise."

"Me too." He sighed. "I remember -" he paused, closing his mouth and setting his mug down. "I remember when Gerard was like this. He -"

I raised a finger, doing the math in my head. If Gerard hadn't touched alcohol in like three years, and he'd met Bert a year and a half before he'd met me, then how would -

"That doesn't add up. Gerard said he met you after he became sober."

His look was pained as he shook his head. "We dated for a year and a half before he met you. We knew each other briefly in high school. He was with Lindsey in college, and then they broke up, and then..." He shrugged. "I always knew he was a little depressed, but it got worse in college. He had nobody. Couldn't even come to me. He just -"

He cut himself off as Gerard walked in, shirtless and rubbing his wrist. "Cheeky bitch." He muttered to me, kissing my temple as Bert chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes turned conveniently away.

"How'd you escape?" I asked, a smirk lifting the corner of my mouth.

"You forgot to hide the key." He ruffled my hair and did the same to Bert, who scowled playfully at him. "Sore head, dude?"

"Yeah, the image of you handcuffed to your bed does that to you." Bert's eyebrows rose, and Gerard flipped him off, turning to me as he opened the fridge door.

"Are you gonna let him speak to me like that, Frankie?" He said, pouting as he took two eggs from the fridge.

I shrugged. "He's right, babe."

"Fine then, don't have an omelette."

"I don't want your crappy omelette." I grinned, raising my glass to my lips.

"I'll have a crappy omelette." Bert said, turning around.

"You know where the pan is." Gerard replied, shaking his hips to whatever tune was going on in his head.

"Rude! I'm a guest!" My mature boyfriend didn't respond. "Gerard, I'm hungover!"

"That's your fault."

I stood up and went to the fruit bowl, slapping Gerard's ass on the way. Bert made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and I waggled my eyebrows at him as I picked up an apple.

I settled a hand on Gerard's ass on my way back. "Did you sort yourself out?" I asked in a low voice, my lips brushing his hair.

"I might've done. Then again, it might've gone away by itself." He licked his lips, glancing at me momentarily.

"That's a shame." My hand left his ass and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. "I was gonna help you with that."

I sat back down, hearing him groan in complaint, and Bert leaned across the table towards me.

"You seem to have conveniently forgotten that we were just talking about him." He said, quietly so that Gerard couldn't hear him.

"I haven't forgotten." I hissed. "Not while he's here."

He shot me that same pitying look he'd given me yesterday, and all I could respond with was a scowl as Gerard handed Bert a plate, sitting beside me with his own.

"What are you two talking about?" He asked, nudging me.

"Oh, nothing special." I shrugged. "Just various parts of your anatomy that are unsatisfactory."

"Ha, ha, ha." He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his omelette. "You're so fucking funny."

"I know." I squeezed his knee under the table, catching Bert looking at us reproachfully.

Although - and it could've been me - I could've sworn that it was Gerard he'd been looking at.

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Evening folks! Seeing as I'm bored and in a bad mood, I thought, why not update this?

I've also made an important decision regarding this book - you'll find out what it is soon, and I'm not changing my mind on it.

There's nothing else to say, I'm gonna go back to being grumpy and neglecting everything else in favour of this!

Thanks Pete,

-xøcharr <3