Gerard couldn't deny the fact that he's nervous as hell, and right now he's fucking shaking. He really likes you and this is the first time he's ever been able to spend one on one time with you alone—finally had the courage to ask you out after months. The room is dimly lit by candles with the scent of vanilla bean and with shaky hands, he's still setting the table, over-adjusting every minor detail—he wants to make sure everything is perfect.

A plate of alfredo pasta, which he made following some random recipe he found on the internet while searching up ideas for the 'perfect dinner date', sat on both ends with a bowl of salad in between. Rose petals scattered across the floor, making a trail that leads from the front door to the dining room. Roses make everything romantic, he thought—he doesn't know. He hasn't been on a date ever since his wife left him.

Gerard takes a few deep breaths as he starts talking to himself, rubbing his sweaty palms against the rough denim of his ripped jeans, "Kid is fed and in bed, table is set, house is clean... I just need to—"

The doorbell rings and Gerard freezes. He's fucking panicking.

He chokes out a noise of some sort and he rushes towards the door. He takes a few moments to collect himself before opening it, you standing right there before him at his doorstep.

He smiles like everything is okay, like he totally isn't sweating his ass off right this moment. "Hey! You uh—you look nice. Pretty. Like—like always, of course..." He stammers out the compliment before stepping aside, gesturing you to come in. "C'mon. Make yourself at home."