"I'm sorry," you repeated, the shattered remains of Juliet's encounter with Andy all around you. "It's my fault this happened, Andy..."
"No," Andy replied after a clear of the throat. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he looked to your limp hands, studying a finger for a moment.
"You're not just a fan," he told you, squeezing your hand. "You're... something else. Something special."
You listened with your mind barely there.
Yeah, right.
Despite the sour sarcasm, you kept your brain working. Your mind wanted to shut down, to hide away from all of this and wait for something good to wake you up. But you kept sitting there, watching Andy reach out and open your palm.
The tiny bits of glass fell, each one red in his blood.
"We have the power to squeeze," he began, "to make these shards hurt. But that would cover up their beauty. So we need to stretch the platform out"—and at this, your hand bowed out, stretching before relaxing once more—"and keep the beauty where people can see it."
"You're saying this beauty?" you asked, briefly looking up, one brow moving in question. "This is forged from pain."
Andy paused, and then curled your fingers, momentarily covering half the pile in your palm.
"Maybe so," he said, looking to you.
"But maybe not." And the shards were in full view again, each one glimmering despite the blood. "Maybe they're just waiting for the right moment to shine."
You couldn't help but smile, even if the analogy was a bit morbid, considering you were talking about bleeding glass.
You couldn't help the feeling in your chest, either. That swell of purpose. For the first time... you felt like you belonged somewhere.
You felt like you were at the beginning of the starting line, stretching and getting ready for the race to begin. And when the gun sounded, you'd be off, chasing after the sound of the bullet and trying to match that speed. When that gun fired, you'd be ready.
You were sure of it.

---

Contrary to your first thought, you ended up using Andy's shower. The one in his bathroom, not the guest one. After you stepped out and dried off, your eyes caught sight of what was hanging from the back of the bathroom door.
A Batman robe, pointy ears protruding from the hood. You thought about it for a moment, and decided that after what just happened, you should take the next step. With a smile, you reached a hand out to the robe.

---

"Nanananananana—bathman!" You slid to the side, arms open wide as Andy bowed forward, one fist to his grinning mouth.
As you dug around for clothes, Andy returned to whatever he'd been doing while you were in his shower. You glanced back a few times, quickly picking out a shirt as you asked him the question on your mind.
"What'cha doing?"
He tapped the down arrow on his laptop a few times. "Reading horrible fanfiction about myself because I'm an arrogant sadist."
You stopped walking to him, shocked. "What?!"
He looked up at you, one hand sweeping into his hair.
"What?" he returned, shrugging one shoulder. "I just told you I'm an arrogant sadist."
"But..."
He turned back to reading, tapping on the down key a few times. "Have you ever written about me?"
Uh...
"We're so not going there," you replied, sitting down next to him at the foot of the bed, shirt in your lap.
Music was playing from his speakers, and carefully you listened; something to distract yourself.
"I don't wanna wait in vain for your love."
The Story So Far's cover of "Waiting In Vain" by Bob Marley. Classic.
Curiosity getting the best of you, you leaned over, squinting at the screen and reading a random line.
I moaned, his penis slowly inserting itself into my vagina.
"Oh my god." You threw a hand over your eyes, trying to fight away the words that were burned into your mind. "What did I just read?" you laughed. "What was that."
Andy laughed a little, too, grinning even more than you were.
When you settled down and he began reading aloud to you (your giggles being the foreground to his voice), you began thinking. You had written fanfiction about him; you completely forgot... Shit....
I hope he—
"Have you ever written anything like this about me?"
You jumped a little, and he put a hand on your hood-covered head, laughing.
"S-sorry," you replied in a gentle lilt. "Um..." You gazed up at him, smiling sheepishly, then held your hand out to him. You made the smallest of spaces between your thumb and forefinger.
"Maybe a little," you said, a question raising your voice.
He grinned, laughing through the smile. You stared, completely perplexed and memorized at the fact that Andy Biersack—your rockstar hero—was right here. You couldn't be more content with life right now; you really couldn't.
But that was until he asked if he could read it.
Dang.
Perfection was so close...
"Uh..." you stated intelligently. "I think I deleted the files."
"Aw come on." He moved your shoulder a little, rocking you in place, and you tried to distract him with a deadpanned stare. "Show meeeeeeeee"—His voice dropped, becoming song-like, and your inner-fangirl drooled—"eeeeeeeee..."
"Please," he finished, smiling like this c:
You couldn't say no to that emoticon-inspired face.
"Ugh, fine," you replied. "Hand me your laptop..."
The super awesome computer was presented to you eagerly, and you stared at it for a moment, hands perched at the base of the keyboard. The same super awesome computer that held said fanfictions of your current boyfriend rockstar-friend.
"Can you read them aloud to me, please?" he asked, twisting himself around to hang his head back and look at you upside down. He even did a French accent on that "please"—he had such a strange personality sometimes!
But it was cute. And you would do anything for him, so what the hell. It was a Rebel Love Story, after all.
No really.
That was the name of your fanfic.
You started to type it in on Quotev, shaking fingers sometimes hitting the wrong keys and missing the right ones. Andy's dumb head suddenly blocked your view of the screen.
"What's Quotev?" he asked.
"It's a site," you replied, face burning in embarrassment. "Can I keep typing?"
You could hear the grin in his voice as he replied.
"Keep typing; I'll let you know if you're misspelling anything."
You sighed quietly. This guy was actually your idol... You couldn't believe it...
Sticking your tongue out in concentration, you kept typing, trying to see the keyboard but failing miserably. Andy sounded out the letters as you hit them.
"B-E-A—REBEA? I don't think that's right—"
"It'd help if I could see the keyboard."
He waved a hand. "Nah, just backspace once. Are you trying to spell 'rebel'?"
"Trying," you said.
You hit the backspace key, shrieking lightly when Andy's lips/teeth clamped down on your forefinger and knuckle. You giggled, grinning again, and felt his lips curve in a smile as well.
"Can I have my finger back?" you asked.
"No," he replied, voice muffled from your skin. "It's mine now. Here."
He began moving, still lightly clamping down on your finger, and directed your hand (with some help from you, of course) to the middle of the keyboard.
"Just lemme know what you wanna hit," he said. And then grinned enough to release your finger. "Besides me, of course."
"Right," you murmured.
Andy momentarily released you, offering a grin that temporarily exposed his canine teeth.
"Let's do this thang..."
Your finger became in between his teeth again, and with a smile to your idol, you spelled out the words of your fanfiction.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad...

---

"So that's it." You closed the screen of his laptop. "That's the last chapter."
Andy sat, nodding solemnly.
"It's good," he said. And then, in a mirror of your worst fear, bowed forward, limp wrist trying to suppress a laugh.
"It's just..." His eyes closed, and he laughed fully. You stared, completely embarrassed. "I love the way you wrote it! Perfect mixture of comedy and lightheartedness."
"Why are you laughing then, you jerk?" you asked, lightly hitting his shoulder.
"I just..." He shrugged, grinning at you. "I dunno. I think the ending, how it all ends with the world exploding, was kinda funny."
Really?
"It was?" You looked back to the computer, opening it and tapping the down arrow key a few times. Enough to bring up the very end of the fanfic. "It was supposed to reflect how, no matter what, nothing we do has meaning."
A pause settled between you two.
"You really think that?" Andy asked softly.
You shrugged one shoulder, looking away.
"Maybe," you replied, looking back to him. "Why not? What proves otherwise?"
He made you wait for a moment, brain thinking hard.
"There's this story I read, where a fictional band was called Carry the Creation. And it was a reflection that no matter what, we always carry what we create—all the pain and the losses, all the heartfelt smiles in between—we carry that with us. It's part of what we bring into the world." He shook his head, a tendril of hair falling out of place. "My dad always said that we should leave places better than we found it, and I think life's a lot like that, too. Just cry out, and place your mark wherever it may fall."
He looked up, a glance that led into a small smile.
"But that's just my philosophy."
And a damn good one at that.
You didn't have an answer, not that you were looking for a rebuttal in a debate.
You picked at your teeth, trying to dig up some reply.
"It's a good philosophy," you replied, trying to hold down your inner-fangirl. "But what if no one notices? What if it's all for naught?"
Another pause, one full of thought.
"I don't think anything's for naught," he replied, shaking his head. "Everything—I mean everything—has impact. You ever watch Fullmetal Alchemist?"
After a pause, you shook your head. "I've been meaning to get around to it, but..."
"There's a saying in the show that says, 'One is All, All is One." He looked to you, and then grinned wide. "It's really cool. It's basically a saying that everything impacts everything. It's a cycle that continues 'round."
"Huh."
"Huh." Andy mimicked, and sat like you; legs pulled into a criss-cross position. He grinned a little, tongue peaking out from his teeth.
You ducked your head, determined to not let your smile show.
You just had a peaceful debate with your all-time favorite idol. What was life?

---

A/N: The "story" Andy says he read is actually my own self-published novel, Grazing the Sky. teehee.

Notes