Gerard's rolling and unfocused eyes finally catch sight of me standing at the front of the crowd. "Seee?" he hiccups, pointing to me. "Fracknk knowwwwwwwwwwwww...."
A security guard approaches me, not unkindly, but is firm. "Do you know this man?"
I merely nod. "I serve him coffee."
"Do you know where he lives?" the guard asks me.
Regrettably, I shake my head. "I can take him to my house though."
"Please do anything you must. We have liability, and he needs to leave," the guard says, wringing his hands. "I warn you, this has happened before. I don't know if you know, but he's pretty much a bipolar drunk, so if you don't know what you're getting yourself into, we can always take him to the station for the night."
"The station? As in, police station?" I ask.
The guard nods grimly. "Unfortunately, the guys at the station are quite familiar with this situation. They've kept him overnight before and I'm sure they'd do it again."
I contemplate for a second. I've dealt with drunks before. You should see Jamia. She's a flaming volcano when she's drunk.
"No, I'll take him. I don't want him to stay down at the station," I reply. "He'll be in better care at my house anyway."
"I don't mean to put pressure on you," the guard says. "But would you mind leaving us your number as a contact for when this happens again?"
I don't like the way the guard says when and not if. However, I oblige and write it down for him.
"And now, out with him. Quickly please," the guard says.
I nod, carefully starting to approach Gerard. He gives me a big, drunken smile and tries to approach, tripping and falling forwards into my arms. I try to hold my breath. He fucking reeks.
"FrrAaaAAAnnkk," he hiccups.
"Hey Gerard," I reply gently. "Come with me."
"Whurrr weeegounnnn," he slurs out.
"Get you a drink. Lets go," I say.
He perks at the prospect of another drink, stumbling after me towards the door. I hear one guard let out a breath of relief, and I turn last minute. Ray catches my eye desperately, and I signal to him that I'll call him later.
If I ever get the chance.
I pull Gerard out into the freezing midnight air, and he instantly shivers. He doesn't have a coat. As much as I don't want my coat to reek of alcohol and body odor, I give it up to him. He pulls it sloppily over his shoulders.
I sigh, going over to help him fix it. As I pull the sleeves on, he smiles goofily at me. "Ahknewwww you wur gunnaacomeee," he says. "Knewwwww you wur gun be tharr to get meeeee."
The cold air is lessening his slur, instead prolonging the words but speaking more clearly.
I just smile and nod my head, zipping my jacket onto him. "Of course I'd be there."
"Yur too niceeee to me," Gerard says. "I'll only.... only hurt you."
"Nah, I'll be fine," I say. "Now come on."
"I wanna go home," Gerard whines. "I duntfeellllll goood."
"Well, I don't know where you live," I admit. "So I'm taking you to my house."
Suddenly Gerard rips away from me in rage. "Didn't you hear mee? I said I wanto go HOME. H-O-E-M... wait no... O-H-O-M-A...." he shakes his head in confusion. "Just ho-"
And with that, he falls to his knees, clutches his stomach with one hand, and empties the contents of his stomach onto the ground.
"Gerard!" I exclaim, running over to him. He coughs hard, throwing up again before wiping his mouth with my sleeve, hot tears running down his cheeks. "S-sorry..." he mumbles. "S'yur jacket..."
"Don't worry about my jacket," I say. "Are you alright?"
"I just want to go home," he whispers.
"Alright, I'll take you home," I say, picking him up off the ground and letting him use me as a crutch. As we walk (or more like me half-carrying Gerard as he stumbles forward), he mumbles all sorts of things, most of which I don't understand because it's so jumbled up. His sentences would stop halfway through and switch to different topics, and more than once he sounded like he was having a conversation with someone. He cursed and yelled and cried and blubbered a lot, and by the time we reach my apartment building, I really am wondering just what I've gotten myself into.
I pretty much carry Gerard up the stairs, and only just manage to get him inside my apartment before he crashes to the floor, unconscious. I sigh, wondering just what to do with him.
I decide to leave him where he is. Even though he reeks of alcohol and smoke and could probably afford a shower, I just let him alone. I sit down on the couch, kicking off my shoes and throwing my shirt to the floor.
I'm not that much of an asshole to leave him there and go to sleep. As much as my body screams not to stay awake, I force my eyes open and watch stupid shitty horror movies, downing three cups of coffee. By the time ten o'clock rolls around, my vision is rimmed with gray from tiredness and I can't focus my eyes very well. But it's by this time that Gerard stirs, and I get up off the couch and force my exhausted feet to make some coffee.
Once I'm finishing up, Gerard is sitting up in the middle of my living room and groaning quite loudly. I bring a cup of coffee and some aspirin to him, but he just looks at me very confused.
"Where am I?" he whispers hoarsely.
"My house," I answer back with an equal sized frog in my throat.
I can see his hungover brain processing what I've said. "How did I get here?"
"I was at Nicks last night for a show," I reply. "When I came out from the show, you were there. And may I add, very, very drunk. Security was trying to get you out, but you wouldn't go. Finally I stepped up as said I'd take you home."
Gerard stares at the ground, clearly ashamed, embarrassed, and maybe a little guilty. "Here, take the coffee and aspirin," I urge him.
He uses a shaky hand to push mine away, trying to pull himself up. "Thanks but I have to go," he mumbles. He pulls himself up off the couch, looking down at his clothes. "When did I get this?" he asks, pulling on my sweater. He must catch a whiff of how he smells, because his nose crinkles in disgust. "How did you even stand to take me into your house?"
"I didn't want you to wake up in a holding cell at the police station," I answer, approaching him and steadying his shaking figure. "Please take the coffee and medicine. You can use my shower and clean yourself up if you want to before you go back to your house. I can lend you some clothes-"
"Frank," he says, cutting me off. He looks at the floor, fists clenched almost as if he was angry, but he speaks in a calm, quiet voice. "I appreciate everything you did for me, truly. But I've taken far too much of your kindness and generosity and..." He trails off, trying to find what to say. "Really, I do. But I can't take it anymore. It's best if we just... stay amiable towards each other. I can't be friends. I can't. I... I..." I can see a hot tear slip from his eye.
My heart crumbles and crushes and I fight a tear from my exhausted eyes. I approach him cautiously, placing the coffee and medicine down on the counter. "Why not, Gerard?" I ask him softly. "Why can't we be friends?"
"I'll hurt you!" he shouts suddenly. "I'll hurt you and I can't afford to do that to anyone else."
I shrink back, not wanting to let the conversation drop here but knowing any efforts to continue it would be fruitless. I speak very very quietly, letting just one tear escape from my eyes. "Fine. But before you go, just take the coffee and medicine. Please."
"Frank," Gerard says in almost a whine, pleading. "Please, you have to understand its for your own good-"
"Just please take the coffee and go. Keep the sweatshirt," I add, talking quietly and looking at the floor. "Please."
He bites on his lip, a few more tears falling from behind the sunglasses. He walks forward slowly, picking up the coffee and aspirin before walking unsteadily towards the door.
"I'm sorry, Frank," he says. The door shuts behind him.
Those were the last words I heard him say for a long time.