A flash of fire in a sea of blurred, nameless faces. The fire that only caught his eye for a moment seemed to have captured his mind completely. His heart hammered behind his pale chest as he searched for her again. It was only a moment ago, she couldn't have gone far. He told himself there was a chance, but every passing moment dampened the spark of hope flickering within him. There! He'd seen it again! He wasted no time, quickly darting into the crowd to find the flames. He knew his height was often a great advantage, however it was currently proving to be quite an issue, he was having a difficult time ducking between bystanders to reach his destination. No matter the difficulty, however, he was determined.


Her hands shook as she took the bottle to her lips once again. She gulped at the spicy, bitter liquid as if it were the elixir of life, yet this particular brew was far from such a thing. Instead, she was sucking down the misery which she could never seem to shake. Fear clutched at her heart with an icy touch; hatred dug into her with its sick barbs; envy whispered her own insecurities into her ear softly, tugging her closer to the edge she now teetered over. Yet in the midst of it all, care couldn't be found. Love was not in sight. Happiness was always hiding. What else could she do but drink the hurt away? Her ginger locks were thick, curly, and fell down to the tops of her thighs, providing a curtain to divide her from the rest of the shattered world she despised living in. Her eyes were a carmel color that always seemed to reflect back what others wanted to see most, but never gave away how much hurt lay beneath their surface. She felt the dizziness and allowed it to invade her mind with a greedy impatience.


He found the fire. They were not flames, but something much more enchanting. A small, female frame sat in a corner booth, snuggled into a corner and hidden in her bright orange locks. He approached carefully, not wanting to scare her off, and saw that her table was already littered with empty bottles: Jack, Jameson, Vodka, Corona... the amount was startling. He was so drawn to this girl, yet he'd never once even seen her face. He slid into the booth so that he was directly across from her, careful not to make much noise, before clearing his throat.

Suddenly, his eyes were met with a honey, brown pair that offered such warmth even as they were wide and bloodshot. He was momentarily speechless, so was she. She moved as if to leave, but he hurried to stop her. "Wait! Wait." She paused, turning to slouch back into her seat with exhaustion, "I didn't mean to scare you off."

"Don't flatter yourself," her voice was like silk, its softness was so intense that he felt himself unconsciously leaning forward a bit so as to hear her better over the pounding music, "I don't scare that easily."

"I'd hope not. A beautiful girl like you, though, you can't be too trusting." He smirked a bit, and she returned the favor. She appeared to be about his age, for which he was grateful. Though he preferred to spend most of his time with adults in his life, the suit-and-tie crew of his mother's coworkers had really begun to get under his skin. "If you aren't scared, mind telling me your name?"

"I never said I wasn't scared," she finally looked toward him again, exposing her perfect skin: a creamy pallor sprinkled with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her button nose. Her eyes danced as the dance floor lights spun around the room to meet her, she was beautiful, innocent, and yet still damaged. "I only said I didn't scare easily."

"And what about me do you find so scary?" He inquired, equally teasing and genuinely curious.

"Well, first of all, you're probably the only male here who is young and handsome enough that I couldn't report it as rape if you were to charm and take advantage of me in my drunken state." He quirked up an eyebrow at her, but she just went on, "Not to mention your obvious bravery when it comes to approaching young, incapacitated girls."

"You've nothing to worry about. I am certainly the type of guy who gets blamed easily for everything I've never done, my personal style tends to bring that on me. And I'd never approach any girl who I didn't believe could handle herself. I'm sure you're the brightest of your group of friends, though you often play it down so you don't intimidate your lesser peers."

"Cynthia."

"Pardon?" He was confused, was she addressing him with a female name? Did she mistake him for someone else?

"I'm Cynthia," she replied smoothly, not stuttering in her speech despite the slight scent of alcohol that hung around her due to the immense amount she'd illegally consumed that night. "But you can call me Cyn, if you'd like."

"Nice to meet you, Cyn. I'm Andy." His ice blue eyes stood out against his stark white skin and ebony hair. It was straight, long, and framed his face well. Cynthia noticed he often ran his hands through it or tugged at odd strands near the nape of his neck, yet his bright eyes stayed glued to hers as he spoke. "How old are you?"

"Worrying about the rape comment?" She smirked at him, the liquid courage she'd been steadily sipping giving her a surge of bold sassiness. "I'm sixteen. And you are...?"

"Nearly sixteen as well." One side of his mouth curled up into a half-smirk. She noticed he had a ring in each side of his bottom lip, snake bites she recalled them to be, and a nose ring. She was curious about this boy, his life and story, what led him to be the kid with the piercings and witty tongue and sharp eyes who sat with her at the hospital office party that seemed much too hip to be such a boring event. Who was this Andy kid?

"Who are you?" Her hazy mind allowed the words to slip out without thinking them through, "I mean... I– I mean..."

"It's fine." He smiled kindly at her, making her foggy brain go a bit haywire, "But honestly? I can't really give you an answer. I find myself a little bit more everyday. All that matters is that I am me and you are you and that we embrace that."

"I don't know how to be me. I don't know me well. And what I do know of me isn't very likable."

"I'm not sure I believe that." As he spoke, his eyes studied her, making her feel extremely exposed. Even though she was dressed in jeans and one of her father's old Harvard sweatshirts, much too underdressed for the cocktail party attire the other guests donned, she felt as if he could see her bare and it was quite disconcerting.

She watched the way he bit his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth and running his tongue along the left lip piercing. He was fascinating. She wished she knew him, but yet she didn't want to get to know him. Not here, not tonight. She just wanted to get wasted and be the rebel she knew she'd never have the guts to be when she was sober.

"Hold on," she stood from the booth with a slight stumble, but she just waved off his offers to help and continued on her way.

Andy waited. He had the odd thought that he'd probably wait a lifetime for her and never question it. Before he could think much more, Cynthia returned with a few bottles of cheep beer in each hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels under either arm, all topped off with a wicked grin on her pale pink lips.

"Here," she passed him three beers and one Jack, "drink up. I'm getting wasted and I'm not doing it alone.”

Andy was never a kid to succumb to peer pressure so he knew that he absolutely had the option to walk away, or politely refuse. Still, something about the way that the freckles on her face reminded him of stars and constellations made him do as he did. He laid the top of the bottle against the table's edge, used the base of his palm to slam down to pop off the lid, and take a large swig of the amber drink.

Many drinks later, the pair could be found no where within the party. They were laid on the roof of the hotel where the event was held. Their cold hands were warmed together as their pale fingers intertwined. Laying on their backs, Andy and Cynthia's glassy eyes were racking to focus on the night sky above their heads. Each of them clutched a fresh bottle in their free hand which they brought to their blissfully smiling lips. The autumn weather and alcohol gave each of their fair complexions a rosy glow as the wind whipped their hair into each other's eyes.

"Cyn?" His words weren't slurred, but his deeper voice was speaking at a considerably slower pace as his buzz had melted into a full-on drunkenness.

"Yeah, Andy?" Cynthia was letting her eyes flutter shut, the drinks and messing around and talking with Andy were all beginning to take their toll.

"You're more beautiful than all the stars." He turned his head to the side as she did the same, their locked gaze blazed with an unspoken passion.

He didn't quite register what was happening until he noticed he was only centimeters away from her face and saw her eyes close and realized she wanted this too. Their lips brushed lightly against each other and it was as if the rest of the world was paused. Andy left his bottle behind on the concrete beneath them, abandoning it to tangle his newly-free hand in Cynthia's orange tresses. Each of them rolled onto their side so as to face each other completely. Their chests were heaving against each other's as they broke apart for air, laying their foreheads together and keeping their hands on their companion's body and their hips pressed closely to one another's.

"You're beautiful too, Andrew," Cynthia smirked against his soft, pink lips, knowing it annoyed him to be called that as evidenced by his drunken rant about his name earlier in the night. She felt his laugh reverberate in his chest and vibrate lightly against their brushing lips.

There was a moment of stillness before everything moved at once. One second the world is frozen and then suddenly their kisses began again with renewed fervor. Passion poured from them and melded two wounded hearts into one. That night, hands roamed bodies, sweet nothings were whispered, and two lonely souls weren't so alone. The only problem with a perfect night? Sun has to rise at some point.

---

When morning came, Andy awoke atop a building. He was confused, but saw the many empty glass bottles surrounding his concrete bed and was suddenly hit with choppy, vivid memories from the night before. A fire, a girl, a few drinks, a few more drinks, the roof, the kiss, the... Well, great. Fucking great. He'd actually just had sex with a completely random girl who's name he couldn't even recall through the thick haze of his hangover. Who ever she was, she was gone. He couldn't place his finger on it, but something was missing. He felt much more alone than he usually felt, and that's saying quite a lot for a boy with such a stand-alone lifestyle. He was used to sitting alone at lunch, going to concerts alone, sitting alone in his safe-haven of a bedroom listening to the Misfits. Alone, but not lonely. Now, the loneliness washed over him in an all-consuming wave and his pounding head and shattered heart and churning stomach and shaking hands couldn't handle it. He moved as quickly as his exhausted body would allow, swung open the door and stumbled down the stairs of their small-town, local Holiday Inn. The ballroom where the party had been was empty. Where were his parents?

Andy took off for home. He walked as most things were fairly close in his Midwestern hometown. As soon as he reached the front door and entered, he was greeted with his parent's welcoming smiles. "Where did you guys go?"

"Well," his mother was busy with lunch in the kitchen and his father was trying his best to help her, despite his complete lack of cooking skills, "after you came and told us you were leaving to go with that friend you made we came on home."

He'd talked to them? He couldn't remember that. "Oh," he tried to play it cool nonetheless, "right."

---

Days passed but no matter how many times he dropped by the hospital, he couldn't seem to find any trace of an employee with a redheaded teen daughter. Weeks passed but no matter how much hope he told himself he didn't hold, he could feel it deteriorating as he found no note, letter, acknowledgement from her at all. A month had passed but his mother promised him she'd never heard of such a worker nor such a child anywhere near the hospital.

Eventually Andy began to give up. By the time a few more moths had passed, bringing with them a birthday, a christmas, and a New Years Day with no stupid New Years Resolution, Andy was able to slowly forget the girl with the amber eyes and flaming locks. Though some part of him knew he could never fully forget the girl he'd first made love to, he was sure as hell trying. It worked, almost completely, and she became only a story from his past, just a fading memory. His band became his first true love though there were other relationships throughout the years. His passion for music dominated his thoughts and healed him when he was at his weakest. Andy moved on, grew up, and could be found on every stage he could get access to by the time he'd reached adulthood.

---

Twelve years after that whirlwind of a night, Andy Biersack was happy. Truly happy. His life was unfolding beautifully, like a dream come true. His lovely fiancee, his world famous band... He had it all figured out. But boy, was that about to change.

This is not a love story between a man and his beloved. This is about learning to love in a whole new way. Learning to love your opposite, learning to love your father, learning to love your child. Learning to love between Fire and Ice.

Notes

Next chapter will be the true beginning of the story. Hope you enjoy.

Also, the spacing is a bit strange. Where there are two or more spaces between one paragraph and the next shows a switch in the main focus, such as switching from mainly surrounding one character to the next, but there is no significant time-jump there, however where there's a 'break' (the grey line) shows a small or large break in time. Does that make sense? If not, feel free to ask questions. Either way, I think you'll understand as you go on.

Much Love,
MM