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Andy

Night.

Within a few more hours, the sun was coming up, and I was cranking out my homework assignments like a madman.

I stayed up all night, took out my contacts and replaced them with my 'nerd glasses' so I could work comfortably. Andy kept me company for a while, and sprawled out on the bed, telling me random stories and facts about himself while I worked. Surprisingly enough, my parents never barged in and found me wide awake, talking to myself.

Though, another interesting fact I learned during the night is, apparently, ghosts can sleep. I think Andy mentioned something about that yesterday, actually. That they have to 'recharge' or whatever it is they do so that they can remain visible.

After he fell asleep, and I finished my assignments, I noticed that the photo of him and Ashley was on the corner of my desk, right where he'd left it, along with his box of belongings.

I looked back at him to be sure he was still asleep, then reached carefully for the box, and lifted the squeaky lid. I wasn't sure what I expected to find in there, exactly, but for some reason, I was nervous.

When the light from my lamp lit the box up, I realized it was just simple things, not murdering devices.

There was another polaroid photo of Andy with a girl I didn't recognize. I looked at it for a moment and noticed all the tattoos Andy actully had that I never noticed. I set that photo aside and pulled out a small, silver chain with a black crucifix charm dangling from it.

I rolled it around between my index finger and thumb. The charm was tiny and felt like a cold stone. I couldn't identify what material it was actually made from, so I settled on either metal or rock.

Reaching back into the box, there was a guitar pick with a scribble of a signature in Sharpie on it, a dried up flower that looked like a pale pink orchid, and a crushed up piece of paper.

I unfolded the paper, and after reading the first few lines, I realized it was song lyrics. I hummed a rythym to it as I read the words on the paper, but stopped when I heard movement behind me. I tossed everything back into the box and shut the lid, only to realize Andy had rolled over.

He was so realistic, I found myself forgetting he was actually dead. That he was actually just a spirit, lighter than air, resting on my bed, restoring his ghostly energy.

I turned away and picked back up the photo of him and Ashley, and decided to give it a special place. Standing up from my chair, I went over to my full length mirror, where other photos, cut outs of musicians I liked and stickers were plastered over half the glass, and I carefully stuck the polaroid under the corner of the mirror frame, and took a step back to look at the two of them.

I looked over at the clock on my nightstand. The time was four twenty-three. I had a few hours to sleep before school, and I might as well.

I walked over to the bed, too lazy to change back into my pajamas, I grabbed one of Andy's sprawled arms and tossed it aside, forming an area on the edge of the bed wide enough to lie down on.

I curled up and reached for the lamp, and flipped it off. Total darkness filled the room and I closed my eyes, listening to Andy's breaths until I finally fell asleep.

~~~

Instead of waking to my alarm, I woke to my Mom's presence in my room.

"Holy-" I leapt up, and realized it was only her.

Gripping my head, I sat there, waiting for her to tell me why she was there, but then I noticed her stealing my hamper. I glanced to my left, and Andy still slept there. I looked up at her in panic, and she looked over at me.

"Something wrong?" She inquired in confusion. I shook my head, "No, no, I just had a bad dream. Nothing's wrong."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me. "You've been acting kinda weird the last couple days. Are you feeling okay?"

"Fine, fit as a fiddle."

"Period?"

"Mom!" I cried out in embarrassment, she chuckled and scooped up the hamper into her arms. "Just checking. Better get ready or you're going to be late."

She closed the door behind her, and Andy's answering chuckle forced a bright red blush of embarassment into my cheeks. His shoulders shook with the silent laugh, and he rolled onto his back and sprawled his arms out.

"Your mom is hilarious."

I smacked him with a throw pillow and got up, heading to my closet, not in the mood to talk to him right then. I grabbed the first set of clothes my hands touched.

"I'm taking a shower. Probably won't see you again before I go. See you at school?"

"Sure. What else have I got to do? Listen to your mom all day?" He cracked, and I spun around to send a frosty glare his way.

"Andrew Dennis Biersack, you may be dead, but one day, I will be, too. And I will find you, and I will kill you for a second time. I'd choose my words wisely, if I were you."

He actually looked kinda scared as I exited the room. I shut the door behind me, just in case, and headed towards the bathroom down the hall.

I started the water and dug through the bathroom drawers for my makeup, and set it out on the granite countertops.

After the shower, I dried my hair out and put on one of the few black shirts I had. It had the Black Parade marching skeleton logo on the front from the My Chemical Romance album.

I put on a lighter colored pair of jeans that had natural holes in the knees, and my green high top Chuck Taylors. I chose to leave my hair down today, and curled it a little bit before I tossed my old clothes into the hamper and put away my makeup, and hurried out to grab my backpack, jacket, and sprinting out to catch the bus before it pulled away from the curb in front of my house.

At school, Mark met me by the front doors, and commented on my shirt. I laughed at our similar music interests, and asked him what other kinds he listened to while on the way to my first class.

"Well, my uncle felt like it was his personal duty to educate me on the great rock icons of the 80's and early 90's, so I listen to a lot of rock and punk music. Never really got into country or rap, though."

"Same." I laughed, "I listened to a lot of Beatles when I was younger, mostly because my dad loved the crap outta them. When I turned twelve, though, I finally started finding my own music tastes."

"Hey, have you ever heard of Motley Crue?" Mark suddenly asked me, and it brought back memories of the previous night.

"Yeah, um, I have a friend who loves them. Went to a concert for his eighteenth birthday." I added on.

"Seriously?! That's sick! They're my favorite band like... Ever. I'd die if I could go to a concert." He laughed, "You'll have to hook me up with this dude sometime, we could fanguy over Motley."

"Fanguy?" I echoed him, breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Okay, I've heard fangirl, but never fanguy. Well played, I learned something new today."

He grinned at me as we walked into history and took our seats. I looked up when someone walked in, expecting it to be another new student, but instead, it was Andy. He walked in slow motion, wearing a long leather trench coat, trying to look dramatic. I laughed.

"What?" Mark asked from beside me. I looked over at him, then back at Andy, who winked at me then started laughing obnoxiously in his clown tone. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing again.

"Oh, nothing, I just thought of a joke Elizabeth told me yesterday."

"Oh yeah? What was it?"

I floundered, "Uh, I don't remember exactly how it went, you'll have to ask her."

I watched Andy, pull a pair of aviators' sunglasses from the pocket of his black leather trench coat, and put them on dramatically, sweeping through the classroom with a slow gait to the empty seat beside me. He sat down and propped his ankles up on the desktop, turning his head, arms crossed, looking at me.

"Sup." He greeted with a jerkish nod, before swiping the sunglasses off the bridge of his nose like a sassy bitch. I felt the pressure building up in my stomach, the urge to bust out laughing. I didn't get away with a giggle the first time, I highly doubt that I'll get away with hysterical laughter.

I just shook my head and looked down at the cover of my history book to avoid the risk of being caught laughing at inanimate objects.

Notes

Andy in his 'undead clothes'.

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