You weren't sure what you were going to do.
This restaurant's version of your favorite food looked about as appetizing as a pile of dog shit, but your stomach was empty.
You needed to eat, as you reached out, reached across the table to Andy's food. And you twirled noodles around your fork.
He just smiled, reflecting the grins all around the table, and you felt like dying a little less.
You took a bite, part of you thinking how the calories didn't count as long as the food was someone else's, and the other part of you sealed that thought away.
No one needed to hear something so stupid.
Before you could react, Andy stabbed a bite of your food, earning a laugh from your mother and a bigger smile from your dad, who insisted on sitting beside you.
You felt him peck the side of your forehead, near your temple, and you forced the smile to stay on your face.
Your parents dismissed themselves, moving to pay the bill near the front of the restaurant. This place was weird like that.
And... Now that you were alone...
"Hey, Andy?"
He looked away from the TV and straight at you, part of your mind in disbelief. One, that he was even here in the first place, sharing the food of your favorite restaurant. And also because he was yours.
The failed suicide didn't scare him—it just brought him closer.
Your eyes welled up, question suddenly forgotten as you brought your hoodie sleeve to the corner of your eye.
"Why'd you give me your number in the first place?"
"I told you..."
You blinked, sure he would disappear as you looked up from your barely eaten food. You looked to him, seeing a soft smile. A loving one.
"I like you," he continued, speaking your name in such a soft, such a careful lilith. "There's just something about you. I couldn't put my finger on it, but—"
"Okay!" Your father stepped up, hand on Andy's shoulder. "Bill's paid—let's get outta here!"
Quietly, Andy thanked him for the meal and stood, sending you a wink.
You two'd talk later. That was a promise.

---

You stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom, thinking of nothing when your phone buzzed, lightly vibrating your stomach.
Hey.
Andy.
Another text:
U up?
Stop being a fuckboy, you typed back, and a grin formed as you heard laughter from down the hall.
Can't, he sent back. Tis in my blood.
You sent him the narwhal song, hearing the first few seconds blare before silence overtook the instruments.
Thanks! he texted you. Had my diddily dang volume up!
You sent him that one Dimmadome meme, only to get back:
Swing and a miss. I was thinking of Ned Flanders.
wkrhp
You know I don't watch the Simpsons!
And suddenly, movement in your doorway.
"Scoot over," Andy said, slipping into bed with you and successfully pinning you to the edge. "We're watching Simpsons."
"Move your fat butt," you whined, lightly slapping him in the shoulder with a flappy sleeve.
"Sorry. My butt refuses to shrink. I've tried Akins, I've tried Weight Watchers..."
"How 'bout a flat ol' diet?"
"It just ruins me for all the other cats!"
You cracked out a laugh, and before you knew it, Andy was holding his phone in front of you.
The Simpson's logo broke through a cloudy sky.
"This is the Simpsons," Andy said. "In case you were wondering."
So you were back to making jokes, just like old times.
"We need some pizza and some Mountain Dew," you commented, glancing to Andy in time to see him nod.
"Call it up on your phone," he said while the opening sequence ended.
With a sigh, you speeddialed your favorite pizza place, and as the phone buzzed, the anxiety built.
I shouldn't be...
And yet... I am.
I hate myself
I hate my life
I don't deserve this.
"Hello?"
Andy was staring at you, waiting for you to reply just like the guy on the other line.
"Uh, h-hello. Yeah"—you cleared your throat—"Um, hi."
And his greeting continued, welcoming you to the place and asking for your order.
You rattled off a list of junk food, hearing the promise of a quick delivery.
As you hung up, you felt Andy's hand in you hair. A soft kiss on your temple, then your cheek. Then—with a turn of your head, with a submissive mind, a kiss to your lips.
I love you more than I could ever scream.
You knew that was what he was saying, with each kiss, each stroke of the tongue.
He loved you.
And as you both drew away, your forehead coming to rest against his, you asked that same question again.
"Andy... Why did you text me in the first place?"
"Because"—A kiss to your forehead, a peck to your nose, and he spoke against your lips—"I knew you were trouble when you walked in."
You cracked up in laughter, smile closed but wide and giggles soft. That damn goat...
"W-what?" Andy grinned.
"You didn't even answer my question, you boob."
"You're the boob!"
"Not uh!" You shoved him, nearly knocking him off the bed.
"Hi, would anyone like—" Your mom came in with a tray of cookies, seeing Andy half-hanging off your bed.
"Andrew Dennis Biersack," she roared, "lead singer of Black Veil Brides since 2006! You get out of my child's bed this instant!"
"Wow, mom," you said seriously. "How'd you know all that information?"
"I'm hip," she proclaimed, one hand to her waist. "I'm with the cool kids on tumblr."
Your eyes shut, hand pinching the bridge of your nose.
"Please never say that again."
"Sure thing. The site's boring anyway." She passed the tray of cookies over to you, both pairs of eyes glancing over to Andy, who was struggling to sit on your bed again. "I couldn't find your account, anyway. I even tried _______Biersack123."
"Yeah, not my URL," you said, popping a cookie in your mouthhole. You looked down at Andy, who had given up and laid down on the floor, feet up on your bed.
"You okay there, Dennis?"
"Shut up and hand me a cookie."
You took a bite of your second one, obviously relishing in the chocolately goodness.
Andy gave you a light kick.
"You really should work on your abs," you said. "Don't skip it like you skip leg day."
In one smooth motion, Andy pulled himself up and pushed you aside, reclaiming his spot on your bed.
"Move over," he said, reaching for a cookie.
You forgot about the smile on your face, just seeing him there with you.

---

The doorbell rang a few minutes into the first Simpsons episode. Andy paused his phone, cookie in mouth, and you both answered the door.
The transaction went smoothly, until the pizza employee truly noticed Andy.
"H-hey," he said, eyes popping wide. "You're the lead singer of Black Veil Brides."
The guy pulled up his sleeve, pizza long since handed off to you, and proclaimed the Black Veil Brides logo forever etched onto his upper arm.
"I love your music, man."
"Thanks," Andy said, offering a handshake that was gladly accepted. "I appreciate the support."
"What's it like to be famous?" you singsonged as the front door shut, pizza in your hands and liters of Mountain Dew in Andy's arms.
"Shut up, groupie," Andy smiled, pinning one bottle against his arm and side to ruffle your hair.
"What?" you countered as he walked back up to your room. "It's a serious question!"
And only laughter answered you.

Notes