The Summer Job ~ Andy Biersack *Completed

--Baylie's POV--

I woke up early the next morning to a feeling of true bliss. A real bed with more than one blanket and a fluffy pillow. It wasn't just a mattress on the floor with a blue sheet and a beaten down pillow, if you could even call it one. I stretched out and instantly began to think of my mother. Was she okay? Did she worry about me? What if she was thirsty and ran out of water? The thoughts filling me with anxiety, I got up and walked down the hall. I didn't have any clothing besides the large shirt and shorts Andy had given me to sleep in, and I needed to get home. It then occured to me I didn't know where Andy's bedroom was. I had been in his office for and could probably find it on the first try, but I had never even seen his bedroom. I turned the corner, a little lost, when I suddenly noticed a large swarm of maids all whispering. There were atleast 15, all with worried expressions on their face. Knowing they'd stop talking about it if I was there, I hid behind the corner and listened.

"But last time this happened, Minnie lost her job..."

"Well /someone/ has to go in!"

"Make Jalin go in, maybe he won't yell at her."

"No! I'm not going in! That's like walking into a lion's pit!"

"Well someone has to."

Curiosity getting the best of me, I turned the corner and paused in front of them, trying to hide the fact I'd been listening to their conversation. Do what? "You!" One maid said, pointing her finger at me. "Mr. Biersack's come down with some sort of illness. Go inside and make sure he's okay." She said. The other girls looked at her and smirked. "M-me?" I asked. She nodded. "Yes yes, you. Go." She pushed me towards the door until I could do nothing but twist the handle and stumble inside.

It was huge.

The room was positively giant.

The walls were actually bookshelves and lined with books, expect for a small space where his bed was. Even then, the shelves went over his bed. The floor was a soft carpet, so smooth it felt like silk on my feet. As my eyes further studied the room, I finally noticed Andy sitting on the bed staring at me awkwardly. "Sorry." I said quietly. "A-Are you okay?" I studied his face. He looked very, very tired. He wore a yellowish-white muscle shirt, showing off his tattoos. I never knew he had so many; they covered his whole right arm and a portion of his neck. A few small ones adorned his stomach, I could just barely see their outline through his thin shirt. He mumbled. "More or less." Suddenly, he tensed up and made the face of someone who was most definitely going to vomit. "Oh...woah, woah..." I said, running over to his bedside. He held his hand up. "I'm okay." He said. I paused a moment before making the decision to sit cross legged on his bed. He tensed a moment, but didn't yell at me.

"D-Do you want me to get you medicine?" I asked awkwardly. He looked quite unwell.

"Just..." He held up his hand and made the face you make when you are about the burp. "Stop talking, for a minute."

I nodded and played with the fabric of his sheets in my hand, shivering in the cold. He kept it absolutely freezing in here, and I noticed each room had it's own thermometer which probably meant he kept this room especially cold. It was ten minutes before either of us spoke again. The whole time he sat, leaning against his headboard, one hand resting loosely on his stomach and the other stretched out slightly on the pillow next to him. I shivered a little more prominent than usual, and he chuckled. I jumped in surprise. "Sorry." I said immediately. He waved it off with his hand, his amused smile soon fading. Confused by his lack of shouting, I twisted the ends of my hair with my fingers, lost in thought about what was going on. He was sick, and the maids were afraid to go in because they thought he'd yell at them. So they threw me in as bait. Okay, I know what's going on.

"That's bad for your hair you know." He commented.

"H-Huh?"

"The twisting."

I quickly stopped.

"Oh, s-sorry."

"Why do you keep apologizing?"

"Sorry."

"It makes you sound like a kid. Not like you aren't already immature enough."

I didn't respond. Just when I thought that perhaps there was a change in tides, he was back to his jerk self. We sat in silence for a moment before he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry for...the things I said in the car. It was out of line." He said, sounding mostly sincere. I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued. "That doesn't mean I didn't mean it." He warned. I closed my mouth, out of words. He huffed a word I didn't hear. "What happened to your stomach?" I asked. I knew he was sick, but I wanted to keep the conversation going. He grumbled. "Long story. Either way," he pulled up his shirt to reveal a huge purple bruise on his abdomen. "It doesn't feel good." I knew how hard it was to bruise a stomach: you had to hit it really, really hard. I thought at first he might be internally sick, but I suppose he's just sore. "C-can I...?" I asked, reaching my hand out to his stomach. He nodded. I ran my hand gently over the purple mark, tracing the outline. A train of small hairs led down to below his boxers, and I couldn't help but think...

Oh god.

I blushed and shoved the horrible thought from my mind, removing my hand from his stomach. "Why are you so red?" He asked, his voice much more comical and relaxed than he usually was. "N-nothing." I said. He chuckled lightly, but turned to a more serious tone. "Were you thinking about fucking?" He asked, his deep voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I didn't quite know how to respond. I just sat there and blushed, staring down at the mattress.

I had never had sex. I didn't even like to think about it. I had never even had a boyfriend. I was basically a virgin everything. The only man I've ever kissed is my dad. I never learned any real sex ed because I didn't go to high school. Hell, I's never even used a tampon. I was as naïve as they come. Nothing had ever turned me on before, and I've never touched myself or had fantasies like most girls did. Suddenly, Andy's finger traced along my jawline. "Are you a virgin, Abigail?" He asked lustfully. I tensed. "May I please go now." I stated quickly, not even bothering to make it sound like a question. His finger traced down my neck, and I'm not sure why, but I felt as tears rushed to my eyes. Perhaps it was just the anxiety of the situation, or maybe I was afraid, but I let one roll down my cheek my accident. "Are you crying? He asked, a humored tone to his voice. "N-No!" I said defensively, although a little sniffle gave me away. "Hey," he said, his tone surprisingly soft and kind. "I was just messing with you." I looked over at him and nodded, cursing at myself for crying so easily. I was so stupid. I nodded. "I-It's okay." I said.

Andy and I sat on that bed for at least two hours, every once and a while commenting on something. He wasn't very kind, but he wasn't the same snappy, cold man I had once talked to. He was relaxed and laughed at some of the things I said, or sometimes just me in general. He wasn't entirely Mr. Biersack to me anymore. He was Andy. However, he still refused to call me Baylie because he said it sounded like a dog's name. That, of course, wasn't the most polite of things to say, but it was him. Very, very him.

Notes

Woah, so what the hell just happened with Andy and Baylie?

Sorry it 's so short; leave meh a comment!