Found Missing

It's late, or early, depending on how I choose to look at it - that's all I'm aware of, that and the pounding rain hammering against my shoulders. Anne would probably have a fit if she could see me, but she can't and what she doesn't know won't hurt her. As far as she's concerned I'm still at the club, sharing company older than my own yet still supposedly safe, but the club had closed hours ago. I stuck around until the janitor asked me if I had a home to go to - I took this as my queue to leave.

I decide to walk the long way back, selfishly ignoring the notion of how dangerous this could be. After the loss of Martha I know I should act with more whit, but instead I've just become careless. However, when I stumble upon someone looking a little more careless than me and, somehow, even more rain-drenched I find that taking the long way home wasn't such the fatal move I'd assumed it to be.

"I thought you went ages ago, Gerard."
He sits against the bonnet of his car, staring out into the darkness. There's a bottle of something in his fist, I think the label reads tequila. "You're supposed to take that in shots, by the way."
"Oh, really?" He looks genuinely flummoxed, but takes a swig nonetheless. "It all ends up in same place though, right?"
"Uhh, I suppose so."
He swallows. "Someone took my keys again, said I can't drive in my state, whatever. So I can't drive home... I don't think-I can't walk."

Gerard had been at the club, a rarity for him, especially since his graduation. With Martha gone I've heard he's lost the energy to do much at all, I don't think he's even left the neighbourhood. I won't admit it, I'm having difficulty admitting it to myself, but I'm worried. Gerard drinking has always been just Gerard drinking; it's normal, for as long as I've known him at least. If he pleased he'd have vodka on his cereal and no one would bat an eyelid, except for his mother, but tonight had felt different.

"It's just Xanax." He says when I ask him what he's taken. "Y'know, the pills you're supposed to take."
"Not with tequila, Gerard."
He hums in agreement, or disagreement, before pulling out a cigarette. "I need a light."
I hand him mine and I notice how his hands are shaking as he presses the cigarette to his chapped lips, creasing his brow tight when he has to re-light it twice because of the rain.

"Are you okay?" I feel stupid for even asking.
"I'm fine." He insists, smiling a little too wide for a voice so fragile. "Sometimes I just think too much, and then... then I get lost. I get lost in my head, y'know?"
I do know.
"But I'm fine"
I doubt this as his eyes well and he blinks, tears spilling onto his cheekbones to mix with the rain drops that are settling there. "I've just been thinking too much today, that's all."

This isn't the person I'm used to. I'm used to bitter remarks and snide sarcasm, not shaky breaths and raw confessions.

"Well, since I can't get into my car, let's go somewhere." He changes the subject fast. "Let's just fuck off."
"Fuck off to where?"
"I dunno', a bar? I'll buy you drinks." He gives up on his cigarette, I'm surprised he got it to light in the first place. "C'mon, let's go."
I could quite happily drink until my eyes lose focus, unfortunately it looks like Gerard has already reached that stage. It would be easy allowing him to use his ID to ply me. I consider the idea but immediately think better of it.

By the time he's passed out in his bed, hair drying under the warmth of his sheets, I know he'll have forgotten everything come daylight. He won't remember to be angry for how I'd insisted upon walking him home rather than to the nearest bar.