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"You're drunk." Pitts said, his arm around Meeks’s shoulder to keep him from tripping too much as they tripped into their dorm room.
"I'm not drunk!" Meeks shook his head, his steps clumsy. His every movement betrayed his word.
"You are very drunk. How much did you have tonight?" Pitts asked as he led them into their room.
"Well...when you were over with Charlie, I snuck a few drinks. Not too many!"
"A few? Stevie, how many?" Pitts could feel it again. That growing worry he always harbored for him.
"Just a few!" Meeks defended himself, always stubborn.
"Why did you want to get drunk tonight anyways?" Pitts shook his head, "You said you had to study all day tomorrow for trig and that's not going to be fun with a headache. You know that."
"I don't like when Charlie brings those girls over. It doesn’t feel like the club anymore."
“I know. But he said tonight was the last time.”
“I just feel like we can’t be ourselves around them.” Meeks confessed.
"I know. But Charlie likes to have them around. Says he likes to dream about them.”
“He doesn’t even touch them. He’s too busy leaning on Knox.”
“That’s not our place, Steve. You know that.”
“I know Ger. It’s just, he’s not dreaming about those girls, you know?”
“Maybe Knox is.”
"I’m not dreaming about them." Meeks rolled his eyes. Pitts gave him a strange look, as though he knew that there was something else he wanted to say. He could read him too easily. A folly of having been friends for so many years. Meeks gripped onto the edge of his desk and met Pitts’s eyes, a sobering effect taking hold of him.
“What is it, Steve?” He fumbled, moving to help Meeks as he sat on the desk to his bed, trying not to let him sink to the floor.
"Who do you dream about?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” He was trying to loosen his tie, but his limbs were too full of liquid. Gerard lent his own to undo it.
“I dream about you. The poets. Dragons and castles and flying in an airplane. War. Ruin. Ghosts and scary houses. You know that. I tell you about all of my dreams. Even the weird ones. And especially the scary ones.”
Meeks seemed to take those words in, let them settle into his skin.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
"When I dream, it’s always about you. You're the only person I ever dream about."
"Meeks...you're drunk." Gerard’s stomach was in his throat, and he felt like he was going to melt into a puddle on the floor.
"I'm not drunk, Ger." Gerard wanted to believe him, wanted to tell him that he dreamt of him too, whether he was awake or asleep. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been right, and Meeks’s pink cheeks were more than enough evidence against his words.
"I just want to kiss you man." Steve’s voice was small, and he looked down at the ground. "I know that's wrong. And I'm sorry. But I do. I want to so badly."
“Steven,” Pitts leaned down to his knees, placing his palms tentatively on Steven’s knees. “Tell me tomorrow, okay? Tell me when you’re sober.” Every part of Gerard was aching to kiss him, but he told himself that he couldn’t do anything about it now. And he wouldn’t. Not with Steven like such putty in his moulding hands.
“I don’t know if I’ll have the courage tomorrow.” He sounded defeated.
“I’ll bring it up first then.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Gerard took Steven’s chin, holding it up. “Look at me, Stevie.”
"You don't want me like that, do you?"
"You're drunk. Drunk and wrong."
“What?"
'Wanting to kiss me isn't wrong, okay? It's just like Neil said. It can't be wrong if it affects you so deeply, okay? Don't tell yourself it's wrong."
“That's what it is to everybody else, though. I want to tell you tomorrow.”
"I'll be here to listen. I'm not everybody."
Meeks felt like he couldn’t process anything that was going on. He had wanted to tell Gerard how he felt for ages, and he knew that if the whiskey wasn’t still swirling in his gut, and if Gerard weren’t so close to him, he’d never have the courage tomorrow morning. He’d forget and put it back in the closet along with all of his other secrets.
"Fuck. Gerry, I love you." He said it like he was afraid it would disappear into the air before Gerard heard it. The grip on Steven’s knees tightened.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
"Stevie,”
"I’m sorry.”
“Stop. Stop apologizing.” Gerard sighed, picking himself from the floor. It was too cold. He settled next to Steven, sitting so close that there was no space between them.
“You're beautiful." Steven said, the words falling out of his mouth like honey dripping from a spoon. “So, so beautiful. And I just… I love you. I know you aren’t gonna say it back. Even if you do feel that way. I’ll find out tomorrow, I guess.”
“Yeah. You will. Bright and early, babe.” Gerard hummed, reaching carefully to thread his fingers into Steven’s own. He put an arm around his waist and lent his head against him as Steven lent into him. They sat like that awhile longer. Neither saying anything, just sitting there, relishing in the quiet facts they both knew. Tomorrow they’d sort it all out. Tomorrow had lots of promises to keep. And lots of secrets to spill.