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Andy

Sorry.

I couldn't sleep... Even if I had wanted to.

Andy tossed and turned, in and out of a fake state of rest. I could tell he was still awake, because his eyelids would twitch every few seconds, but I never said anything. In fact, I appreciated that he was at least pretending to be asleep so I could have some alone time to sort out my thoughts.

But it was a waste, anyways, I guess... Because I couldn't. My mind felt like it was in a blender, and I was still struggling with all these ideals. Who I was a week ago, who I am now, and what this trip of California was going to turn me into. I could walk out a terrible, angry, depressed monster no one wanted to be around... Seeing as how I was starting down that road already.

I hugged my arms and lied there in silence. The lights off, no music playing, me sitting alone on the window seat with the window cracked open slightly. Just so I could hear the gentle, quiet hum of the crickets outside, and feel the cool midnight breeze drift into the room, fluttering the curtains softly.

I sighed... What had I done to make things this way? It was quite simple, really. I'd looked at a dead body, and it was over for me. It hadn't thrown me into some terrible state of shock like it should have, instead, it did the complete opposite, and even now, after almost two weeks, I was still struggling to understand the mechanics of it.

Bad things were happening frequently, all because of my unsatable taste for curiosity. Curiosity got me into trouble. Had I never stood there on the blood and rain drop stained blacktop, looking down pitifully at the dead boy's blue eyes before they closed them, I might not have ever given him another thought. And at the most, a couple years down the line, I might see something that would remind me of it, but it'd be nothing more than a passing thought.

I hugged my knees and contemplated if I actually believed it was all a mistake. I'd never thought of it that way up until now. Did I actually regret seeing him? Striking into him some weird curiosity that made him follow me home and stalk me? Any sane person, after a night like that first one, would never have even uttered the word Andy again if they knew he could just pop up.

I wondered for a moment if things would be different for him, too, if I'd chosen to ignore him afterwards. Would he have decided there was nothing really worth hanging around for on earth, and would have continued his mission into the afterlife, whatever that was, to find Ashley? I'd like to think so. I'd like to think things would have continued to chug along on the preforated line train track they'd been following my whole life.

But maybe... This was what I needed. My whole childhood and adolescent years had been spent wearing preppy summer dresses, going to church on Sundays, then to school in the fall, hanging with the same microscopic group of friends. My life had no adventure. It had light, and life, but it had no meaning.

That reminded me of a quote Gerard Way, the previous singer for one of my favorite bands, My Chemical Romance used to say. "Sometimes you have to die to rise from your own ashes."

Was that what was happening now? I was reincarnating as the girl I never would have even dreamed of before? The girl, who if I saw her stalking down the school hallway, I'd turn away in intimidation because of her dark clothes and violent glare.

A stronger breeze fluttered through the pale curtains, making them sway further away from the window. I heaved a sigh and stood up quietly, I knew what I needed to do.

I glanced at Andy, who casually, on cue, rolled over and choked out a strangled snore. I smirked and shook my head, creeping towards my bedroom door, surprised when he didn't call out behind me. However, if he wanted to know where I was going, he wouldn't ask, he'd just tag along anyways.

I stepped out into the dark hallway outside my room. The grandfather clock on the second floor landing claimed it was 1:30 in the morning. I listened for my Dad's obnoxious snoring, but I didn't hear it, which meant my assumption was right. I went to the stair railing and looked downstairs, sure enough, there was a dim flicker of light coming from the kitchen.

I slipped down the steps silently. They were covered in that really thick, plush carpet, so even if you thundered down it with your best attempt to wake the whole house, you couldn't.

My Dad was easy to sneak up on, especially when he was sleep deprived. But really, I wasn't trying to scare him. Not right then, at least.

I stood back in the kitchen doorway for a few minutes. He had the TV on, but the volume super low, just a hum in the background as he sat at the island, a cup of coffee already on his right hand side, the coffee pot quietly bubbling as it brewed up another batch. He was bent over a long piece of dark blue paper, and across it was an assortment of lines and dashes that made up the floorplan for a building. He held a sharp white pencil, and vaugely outlined things.

I could tell, just from the scene before me, he was already in a slump of depression. He was working on blueprints for a building he'd never work on, watching a cooking show he didn't care about, drinking his coffee cold and black because he didn't have the energy to make it the way he liked it, and worst of all, he was down here alone, in the middle of the night, letting all the sour words and arguments swirl around in his head, plaguing him.

"Dad?" I whispered, and he slowly recollected his awareness, rubbing his eyes before looking over his shoulder. "Ash? What are you doing up?"

I shrugged a little and slowly approached him, pulling up a seat beside him. "I couldn't even sleep."

A tired, humorless chuckle escaped his mouth. "Me, either."

I pursed my lips into a thin line, looking down at my hands, I curled my fingers around one another in deep thought before speaking. "I'm sorry, Dad..." I sighed at last. "I know you're trying to do what you can. I can respect that, and I understand it... But I'm just trying to process it."

He reached for his coffee and took a long drink before looking down thoughtfully, "I know, Ash. And I'm sorry, too. Sorry we didn't tell you sooner... Guess we didn't think about what you'd think. I kinda forgot you'd never been outside of Utah before." He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. All of his angry, say-what-you-mean-mean-what-you-say Italian quirks were silent right then. He didn't have some cocky remark to make, backed by his extensive collection of Italian curse terms, that he could get away with using, because he was the only one in the house who spoke the language.

"I'm okay with checking out California on Monday." I said with a sigh, "But moving..." I took a deep breath, deciding not to continue.

He nodded slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I get it... Truth is, I'm scared shitless of the whole thing, too. We settled here sixteen years ago, and never gave much thought to what else there was. Worked an alright paying job, earned enough to buy what we needed, but it isn't real happiness."

"So this is the pursuit of happiness?" I wondered, genuinely curious.

He smirked a bit, swirling his coffee cup in his hands thoughtfully. "In a way, yes. But mostly... It's just experimental. Which is why we won't be selling the house for a while, at least, not until we're certain California is the right choice."

"What part of California would we be located in?"

"The East Bay. Berkeley. Good for you, too. That area is rich with punk rock culture. You're into that stuff, right?"

"Of course." I chuckled quietly, sighing. "I guess it won't be too bad... It's just the letting go part I'm having trouble with." I heaved a deep breath, "Especially recently... Despite all the bad things that have happened, I did make some genuine friends with the same interests as me. They've inspired me, and I've even been considering music as a career option."

"And in Berkeley, you'll have a good start." My Dad smiled proudly at me, despite looking exhausted. "There's a school out there dedicated to music and performing arts. If that's what you want to do."

I shrugged a little, "I've just been thinking about it... And right now, it's the only idea I have."

"Well I'm glad you're thinking about it." He stood up to kiss my forehead and went to the sink to dump the last of his oil black coffee down the drain. "I'd say it's about time we got to bed." He pointed at the clock, the time almost two.

I nodded and hopped down from my stool and went to leave when he called from behind me.

"Ash?"

"Yeah?" I turned halfway towards him. He crossed the small distance between us and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. Resting his chin on my head, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Ash." He apologized again.

"It's okay." I whispered back.

After we pulled apart, we said goodnight, and I headed back upstairs, to my room, where Andy lied on the bedspread, obviously awake now.

"What's up?"

I went to the bed and lied back down, sighing as I looked up at the moonlight bleached ceiling above me. "I made my apology... We talked some things out."

"Does this mean you're okay with California now?" He asked in confusion and curiosity, pushing himself upright against the pillows to look at me. I sighed in thought, "I'm okay with visiting. I'm still working on the whole relocating thing."

He nodded, sitting straighter, scratching the back of his neck. "So often I get caught up in the drama of real life that I forget I am dead."

"Are you sad?" I wondered stupidly. Of course he was... He was miserable, as any ghost who missed their deadline would be.

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment, his lip ring sticking out awkwardly. "No... I'm more excited than anything, I guess. Mostly because I've lived in California before, and with luck, all my shit is still there, if you're up to getting it with me, that is." He suggested. I groaned in exasperation.

"How did we go from questioning your emotional well-being to blackmailing me into helping you rob your own home?"

His grin was visible even in the dim light of the room, "I did not blackmail you. I merely suggested, that since we're going through with this, might as well get an adventure or two out of it." He winked and I grumbled, rolling onto my side, facing away from him. His obnoxious chorus of laughter behind me.

"Don't be grumpy, I'm trying to distract you."

I snorted. "You're talking about getting me into trouble our first day out there." I grumbled.

"Not the first day." He defended, "We can wait until Tuesday morning, if you want."

"That's like... Eight hours later than your previous offer. What hurry are you in?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder, catching the expression on his face before it faded.

"I'm not in a hurry, there's just some shit I want back before someone goes and cleans out my dorm, assuming no one has yet."

"And if they have?" I wondered idly.

"Then you and I have a trip to the thrift store to get me some new threads." he laughed. "I might not be visible, but I still have a glorious sense of fashion, that will remain unhindered by your opinion."

"I never made fun of your fashion." I chuckled, "I found it rather admirable, actually." I snickered, rolling over halfway to look at his expression. "Because you always looked like you were rollin' with the devil like a badass."

He got his huge, flattered grin on his face, and he pretended to blush in the darkness, even though his incredibly pale skin could never flush pink again. "Why... Thank you."

I grinned back at him, "You're welcome."

"It's Sunday now, isn't it?"

"It's after twelve, so yes. Why?"

"I don't have any amazing plans or places to take you. But I guess since you're still under house arrest, it's better that way." He laughed, "Maybe we can just hang out in the backyard tomorrow."

"That'd be great." I yawned sleepily, hugging my pillow while looking at him.

"You should sleep."

"So should you."

"I can't." He replied, his face smoothing of emotion, "Arkham needs me."

That stirred me from my sleepy state. I pushed myself up a little to look at him like he was mental. "Excuse me?" I asked with an amused expression. He snickered. "Batman?"

"I know who that is and what you quoted." I replied with a flat nod waiting for him to elaborate. He just laughed it off and hopped off the bed in a weightless lithe. "Actually, I need to fix my makeup."

He went to the mirror to scrub at the four hour old stripe of black war paint across his right cheek, before digging through my vanity drawers for my eyeliner pencils. "Oh, that reminds me!" he exclaimed suddenly, going to my closet, walking back out carrying the deep navy blue suit he'd worn to the funeral.

"Why was that in my closet?..."

"Nevermind that." He whisked off my comment, laying the suit across my bed while he reached into the front pocket of the jacket, producing a small object, he tossed it in a high arc, landing in my lap. I looked down at it, recognizing the small purple cylinder of liquid eyeliner.

"Why am I not surprised?..." I wondered out loud, rolling it around in my hand thoughtfully.

"You did say I needed to look good in whatever life I chose... So I figured you'd want me to look damn fabulous in this one." He reached out to snatch it from my hands and went to the mirror, proceeding to apply it in the dark.

"Why... Are you doing this at 2:30 in the morning?" I groaned, sitting up, placing my head in my hands, my exhaustion wearing my patience thin.

"Because sorry to say, if I'm going anywhere on Monday, I have to smuggle some stuff out of my parents house. And I'd rather not have to do it tomorrow night." He concluded, drawing a precise, over exaggerated black streak over his upper lid with a flick of his wrist, pausing to lid the eyeliner.

"So you're leaving?" I mumbled, unable to keep the hint of sadness from seeping into my tone. I had just got him back and he was already leaving... Even if, it was only until dawn.

"I'll be back by eight, Mom." He rolled his eyes, walking towards me, not for me, but to crouch in front of my bed so he could pull over a big leather suitcase.

"Where did that come from?!" I hissed, leaning over the mattress as he unzipped it, throwing open the lid to dig through the messy contents, pulling out his rather odd black duster trench coat.

He flashed another grin. "The amount of things I was able to do without you noticing was astonishing." He cracked, zipping it back up to shove the case back under my bed smoothly.

I glared at him for his comment, watching him proceed to tug the duster up on his shoulders, shrugging into it, adjusting the long worn sleeves to rest comfortably before he faced me one last time. His odd, half shaved-head hairstyle, swept over half his forehead, his black stud earrings and the lip and nose ring. Everything that made him peculiar, and ultimately him.

"You're not the only one who has to prepare for the trip to California." He told me softly as he approached my bedroom window. He paused in front of the glass, tattooed hand resting on the sill. "There's a lot of personal demons there that I have to reconcile with... And I'm not sure how to explain those to you."

He opened the window, and I began to reply. "It's never been a problem before..."

But he was already gone. The fluttering lace curtains the only sign he'd been standing there to begin with.

Notes

Chapter inspired by Letting Go by Mayday Parade.

I finished reading Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children over the weekend and it was amazing. The abandoned orphanage in the story reminded me slightly of Apture.

Speaking of which, this is what I imagine Apture house to look like, but in my head, there's a few different things. I'm working on a sketch of it right now actually haha.


Shoutouts!

- blackveilkitty
- anathema
- Jess_BVBARMY2639

I am so overwhelmed by all the support and feedback you guys give. It's amazing! I'm glad the story is able to do what I intended it to with all the feels 'n such. Glad you're all enjoying it! :)

Comments

I just want to say, I am here to support you no matter what you do <3

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/12/20

Oh gosh, I'm getting weird vibes towards this "sketchy" part of town.

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
5/8/19

I am absolutely in love with this book!

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/30/19

Poor Ashley. Poor Andy. Poor Asheen. Wow, what a story! :)

Merelan Merelan
4/29/19

I am conspiring so many theories about this book my head hurts... lol... anyway, great chapter as usual! Can't wait to read what happens next

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/25/19