"You fall in love too easily," Quinn said. He knelt beside his own bed, where Bert lay with red-rimmed eyes. His breath smelled like whiskey and puke. He had cuts on his palms from the broken picture frame, on his knuckles from where he punched the wall. Quinn wished he'd punched Gerard's face instead.

When Quinn said, "You're in," Bert had made a flying leap into Quinn's lap and kissed him on the lips. Jeph and Branden both laughed, and Quinn put his hand on the small of Bert's back to keep him from falling back onto the coffee table. Bert kissed his ear and whispered, "I'll make this good for you," but he didn’t need to promise anything else. Quinn was already amazed that, after years of playing in shitty bands, he finally had a good singer to work with. They were finally going to have a decent demo to send to John Feldmann. Quinn felt a surge of protectiveness. He had to make sure Bert had a place to live, that Bert stayed clean, that Bert didn't eat tainted chicken. If he was going to finally make his dreams come true, he had to keep this guy safe.

Two nights later, Quinn lay in his bed with his arm around Bert, telling himself he was doing this for purely selfish reasons, to make his band successful, and not because Bert's neck smelled nice. He kissed lightly behind Bert's ear, and Bert turned his head, brushing hips lips against Quinn's. Even in the dark, Quinn could feel his smile, and it was just ridiculous how, after everything Bert had been through, he was so optimistic, so quick to trust someone. Bert put his hand on the front of Quinn's flannel pajama pants, his warm fingertips just under the elastic waistband, and said, "I'll make this good for you," and Quinn just said, "Yes," because Bert already had.

Quinn knelt beside his bed and gently held one of Bert's raw, cut hands. Bert's face was pale, and his breath hitched like he was about to start crying again any minute. "You fall in love too easily," Quinn said, and Bert looked at him with bloodshot eyes and said, "Yeah. It's great."