The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome
Miss, are you ok?
*Andy's POV*
The lanky girl turned after I called out, and boy, she was packing a lot of facial metal. It was kind of neat, though.
Uh-oh. Her eyes started bulging and she dropped her keys. She must have recognized me.
Shit! The timing could not have been worse; I wanted to find Gwyn, but I made myself smile. If she was a big fan, I needed to try and earn her loyalty. I wouldn’t be where I was if it weren’t for the fans.
The girl blinked once, then crumpled to the ground.
Fuck! What the hell!?!
I squatted down awkwardly by her, mildly panicking. "Miss, are you ok?"
Notes
Not being able to edit my mistakes drives me a wee bit nuts. But I guess it's still better to have an outlet of some sort.
I had a vivid, half-waking nightmare that Andy Biersack contacted me, told me my story was horrendously, personally offensive, and that he wanted me to delete it. I would be wildly embarrassed if he ever read this. But if he did, I would be horrified if any part of it were offensive or hurtful to him or anyone he or BVB cared about. Gives me the motherfucking creeps just thinking about it.
4/15/17