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Chapter 38 Fight

Andy's pov

This is our show. We've preformed it for about four months with a short break on March. I haven't been back in the studio with the band in months and these eight show weeks are starting to take their toll on me. Lenny's never seemed happier though. She loves the stage more than anything right now. After that first show, Jason introduced her to Billie Joe Armstrong and I honestly thought she was going to start hyperventilating from excitement. He actually decided that he wants to mentor her once she's done with the show, whenever that is.

The guys came down to the show last week and are staying here to sit with us at the Tony Awards. We're performing Wretched and Divine and the show, as well as both Lenny and myself, are up for awards. We're leaving the theater from our final Tony rehearsal at the moment, Lenny's hand clasped firmly in mine.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow!" Lenny bounces up and down on the balls of her feet as we stand on the subway platform.

"Yeah, me too," I say absentmindedly.

"I doubt that," her voice takes a much sharper tone.

I look down at her bewilderedly. "What?"

"Wow," she sighs, letting go of my hand and thrusting them into her pockets. "You weren't even listening were you?"

"I was!" I respond quickly.

"What did I say then?" She glares at me.

"That you're.. Um.. Fuck," I stutter.

"That's what I thought," she walks quickly off the platform and into the waiting subway car.

"Lenny!" I quickly follow and sit beside her. She crosses her arms and shifts away from me slightly. "What did I do?"

She doesn't answer and we spend the rest of the ride in silence. We get back to our apartment (yes, she officially moved in) and she walks into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. I sit on the couch, trying to think back to what I did that upset her. She walks back out of the bedroom, now dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, and walks into the kitchen, not looking at me. I get up and follow her as she walks to the refrigerator and wrap my arms around her waist as she opens the door and reaches for a beer.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, my lips pressed to the back of her neck. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just shrugs me off and walks back into the living room. She curls up on the recliner and takes a slow sip.

"Lenny," I whine. "Please talk to me! I love you. If you love me you'll answer."

She takes another sip.

I walk over and sit in front of the chair, looking up at her pleadingly. She refuses to even look at me. One of her hands is reding in her lap, clenched in a fist. I grab it and slowly massage it with my thumbs.

She tries to pull away from me but I don't let her. "Lenny please tell me what I did."

"You're just acting like it's torturous to be in the show!" She snaps, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. "You were completely happy for the first two weeks and now you seem like you hate it! Like I understand that maybe this isn't your forte but We have to preform together everyday and your negativity is getting all up in my space!"

"I-" I start but she cuts me off.

"And that's another thing! Just because you don't enjoy the show doesn't mean you have to act like every minuet onstage with me is like being thrown dick first into hell! I'm sorry that it's not fun or interesting anymore but at least try acting like it is because, you know, we're fucking actors!"

"Babe-"

"Don't you babe me! You're royally pissing me off and calling me babe is not going to fix anything!"

She continues pacing, her left hand running angrily through her hair repeatedly.

"Lenny, I'm sorry," I say pleadingly.

"No you're not!" She growls.

"Yes I fucking am!" I answer, completely surprised.

"You're not sorry that you feel like this!"

"Lennon," I say meaningfully.

"Andrew Denis Biersack," she answers. "You know I'm right. You don't want to be in the show anymore."

I start to answer then close my mouth, glaring at her.

"That's what I thought," she glares. "If you're this unhappy, you need to just go tell Jason that you want to quit now."

"Lenny, I don't want to quit. I'm not a quitter," I say defensively. What is her fucking problem?

"Sure."

"So maybe I'm not really enjoying the experience but that doesn't mean I'm going to just quit on you. I'm not fucking like that."

"It's not about you quitting on me," she responds. "Its about the integrity of the performance."

"Lenny, I'm sorry that I'm not as good an actor as you are," I stand and close the distance between us. "I swear I'm trying to enjoy myself but I miss the band. But I love doing this with you, okay?"

"You're such a bitch," she growls but a smile creeps across her lips.

"And I love you," I grin down at her.

"Of corse you do," she smirks back at me.

"I don't think that's the right response," I say, snaking my arms around her waist.

"What're you gonna do about it?" She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

I smirk back and scoop her up into my arms. She squeals and wraps her arms around my neck as I carry her into the kitchen and set her down on the kitchen table.

"We aren't," she says incredulously.

"We are," I answer, slipping my fingers into her waistband and slowly pull down her shorts. I lean over her, kissing her and begin to remove her underwear.

She grins against my lips as she pulls my shirt of and then unbuckled my belt. She's so damn sexy! She wraps her legs around my waist and her hands run through my hair. I fucking love this girl!