Close your eyes and imagine this;
You and Gerard awkardly sat on a bench, talking about little things such as the weather and how your days have been.
"Hey, you know what?" He says, scooting closer to you. Cocking your head to listen, he continues. "I read it up somewhere that if you hold an artist's hand, it means that they trust you with their life."
Looking up at him, you ask, "And so?"
He grabbed your hand and held it like it was the last source of life on the planet.
"I trust you."
