When you stepped back into the living area, you found Andy on the floor. You weren't alarmed; you saw how his hand drifted away, smoke speeding out from between his lips.
You'd always loved Andy, but you'd never loved how he smoked.
That same record was playing; the green Souvenirs one. He'd recently started it over again, and you listened to the lyrics. Something to distract you from watching your idol slowly kill himself.
"You're not who you wanted to be and you're disappointed with yourself
How do you get anywhere if you never leave?"
Why you?
Why here?
Why now?
You laid beside him, body pointed in the opposite direction, your heads close to one another. You tried to get used to the smell of smoke, especially with it so close.
Glancing to Andy, you closed your eyes, and listened.
The first time he'd played this record, it was background music to light conversation and laughter. Now, listening to it again, you fell in love with the instruments, vocalist, and lyrics. You could hear Andy's voice as well, lightly singing along.
You smiled.
The evening began to blur.
"Don't you know how it works..." The vocalist on the record repeated the same phrase as Andy did, echoing a few seconds after. "We grow from the worst..."
Guitars floated into different notes, and you thought about that statement.
Did you really?
Are we forged in darkness only to accept the light? Does the weapon only get crafted when exposed to flame?
You didn't know. Maybe you'd never feel that heartache; that pain. Something big enough to crack open your soul and release some kind of enlightenment.
You thought back to the hardest moments of your life. Everyone's had them, sure, and most people were worse off than you were.
So what was your justification? Your reward?
You didn't know.

---

The LP was on its second side when you two were listening over dinner. You glanced up, utensil positioned halfway to your mouth.
"You really like this album, don't you?"
You took your bite, chewing silently as Andy nodded. He swallowed, and you tried not to notice how his Adam's apple bobbed at the motion.
"It's one of my favorites right now," he said, and a grin overtook his face. "Been playing it on repeat ever since I got it."
So that's what he was always listening to, on the tour bus...
"Cool," you said, and your hair swooped into your eye. You exchanged smiles at this, and your hand reached up to sweep the strands back. Fingers paused at Andy's motion―a simple reach towards you. But as he tucked the strand behind your ear, it didn't feel anywhere near simple.
Your heart kickstarted, skipping beats as his hand left you, a simple smile on his face. His eyes went from your hair to your eyes, that smile only increasing.
He resumed eating, leaving you in an inner-turmoil of love.

Notes