More Than Bandmates

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 20 (v.1) - Ashley's POV

Submitted: November 08, 2013

Reads: 155

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Submitted: November 08, 2013

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There was defiantly something wrong with Andy, I could tell. When I was cooking yesterday I heard him crying, he was way too quiet at dinner, and he didn't even eat it all. I was putting away leftovers when I heard more of his crying. I don't understand what's happening, but when it came to Andy, the best thing to do is to just leave him alone for a while.
I stayed awake until I was 100% sure that the kitchen was clean. When I was done, I walked to the room and changed into my pajamas. Andy was already asleep, so I crawled into the bed next to him. I slowly wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into me, only to have him push me away.
"Don't touch me. Please." he mumbled.
"As you wish, my queen." He was upset about something. Maybe it was because he was finally leaving his old apartment that he'd lived in for a long time. I understood how he felt to have to just uproot and start in a new neighborhood. He would get over it eventually; I just have to give him some time.
I woke up the next morning lying in our bed alone. Andy wasn't in his spot next to me. I slowly reached my hand over to here he lay. It was still slightly warm. "Andy! Where are you?" I called out. Nothing. "Andy!"
"What!" He yelled walking into the room. He wasn't wearing any makeup again; his eyes were puffy and red. I sat up and pulled up the covers.
"Come here. I'm cold." He let out a small groan and slowly crawled into my lap. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He let out another groan when I pulled him into me, like he was in pain. "Baby, are you ok?" I asked kissing his cheek.
"Don't kiss me." He said in a dull voice.
"What's wrong?" I whispered in his ear.
"Nothing." He huffed.
"No Andy, there's obviously something wrong. Please talk to me." I hugged him, but he let out another groan that he was in pain.
"L-let me go." He said pulling my arms off of him.
"Andy, what the hell is wrong with you?" I asked in a worried tone. He didn't even look at me. He hid his face away from me. There was something wrong with him, I knew it. "Why won't you talk to me?" I could barely speak because there was a lump in my throat. Andy tried to get up from my lap, but I held him down.
"Ashley, let me go."
"Not until you talk to me."
"I'm talking now, now let me go." I didn't want to let him go. I never wanted to let him go.
"Seriously Andy; what's wrong?" I pulled him tighter into me, forcing his face into my chest. He fought me for a while, but eventually gave in and started crying, soaking my shirt. "Andy, please tell me what's wrong." I said softly, stroking his hair. He didn't talk to me, just cried hysterically. There was obviously something wrong with him, but why didn't he want to tell me?
Andy and I sat like that for a good hour until he stopped crying. He fell asleep on top of me. I pulled up the blankets and rolled over, laying him down on the bed gently. What was wrong with him? What got him so upset?
I looked him over. His face, as well as my shirt, was still wet from him crying. I took off my shirt and used it to gently dry off his tears. There was a dark red spot in his shirt that was the same color as blood. That was weird. I slowly lifted his shirt and I was saddened and horrified by what I found. Red cuts running from his stomach to his hips. Some still red and bleeding, others scabbed up. A tear started to form in my eye. He was cutting himself.
I got up from the bed, putting Andy's shirt back down and covering him with the blanket. It had to be around here somewhere. I opened up both drawers on the side tables; nothing. I walked into the living room. Where could he keep it in here? I checked in between the couch cushions, inside vases, behind the TV, in the table drawers, in and around the desk in the corner. I couldn't find anything. I made my way into the kitchen, searching every nook and cranny of that room, counting all of my knives, making sure that none of them had gone missing. I had used almost all of them when I was cooking last night, and they were still in the same place I put them.
I couldn't find it in the front of the house, so I made my way to the bathroom. I checked the medicine cabinet, all the drawers, the linen closet and the cabinet where I keep all the toilet paper, but there was still nothing. He had to have hidden it in here somewhere. I walked into our closet. Our cloths were separated, my cloths on the left, Andy's on the right. I checked each pocket in all of his jeans, clean and dirty, and still couldn't find anything.
What did he use to cut himself? I'm afraid to know, but I have to find it. If I find it, then I can get rid of it, or at least confront him about it. I gave up my search for now and climbed back into the bed with Andy, wrapping my arms around his torso and pulling him into me. I wonder what made him feel so bad that he needed to do this to himself.
Andy turned around in his sleep and wrapped his arms around my neck. He wasn't the type to talk in his sleep, so I sat there wondering what he was dreaming about. I pulled him into me tighter, resting my head in the small of his neck and burying my face into his shoulder.
It was probably my fault. It's my fault that he's so upset and broken. I rushed our relationship too much and now he hates me. He's probably bored with me. I kissed his neck softly. It's probably him staying in the house all day. We should go somewhere soon.

"Ashley, I really don't want to leave the house." Andy groaned when I was in the kitchen, packing a lunch.
"Too bad. I'm gonna go put this stuff in the car, you go take a shower and get ready to go." I placed the food into a cooler.
"Fine." He groaned walking into the room. Andy and I hadn't spoken much since this morning's break down. I walked slowly to the car. I was still upset about finding Andy's scars. I seriously hope this day out helps him get over whatever problems he might be having.
When I finally go to my truck, I slid all of the things into the bed and got behind the wheel. I pulled out my phone and sent Andy a text message to meet me in the car when he was ready to go. I waited for a good ten minutes. My phone vibrated once. I picked it up and saw the little twitter logo had a red 1 over it. I clicked the button and saw a new tweet from Andy.

~AndyBvb ~ashleypurdy is dragging me to the park today. I hate the sun. x(

~ashleypurdy ~andy Biersack stop tweeting and get your ass to the car.

I waited another ten minutes before he finally opened the door and climbed in the truck. Andy was, yet again, refusing to look at me.
"Andy, what's wrong with you today?" I asked starting up the truck. He wouldn't answer me. I let out a sigh and ran a hand through my hair. "Fine. Don't answer my question then." I pulled out of the narrow parking space and drove down each level of the parking garage. Andy was playing with a loose thread on the end of his jacket. Why wouldn't he talk to me?
"Andy, I…" I stopped. Now isn't a good time Ashley. Just keep quiet.
"You what?" he asked without looking up at me. Oh, so now he wants to talk to me.
"Nothing." I sighed.


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