An Exchange (Andy x Reader - The Coffin of Andy and Leyley)

Ashley vs Y/N

(AN: I had sooo much fun writing this chapter. I thought coming back to this would be boring but I actually like the direction this is taking! No smut (sadly) but there are romantic moments!)

"Ashley?"

Andrew is frozen in place. Face paling, his eyes dart back to you and back to Ashley.

Though your rational mind wants to fear this girl, you can't help your immediate assessment of her appearance.

His sister looks like a time capsule of a 2020 E-Girl. She's dressed in all black with a tacky top straight from Shein. Quarantine fucked some of us up more than others . . , you think numbly. You vaguely register the baseball bat in her hand and grimace. At least you had a fun time before you died.

"Andy, I thought you said you'd never leave me," she says in a low voice.

"I've never left you!" he screams, like they've had this conversation a thousand times before. There's real emotion in his eyes, and part of you feels like this is way too much to know about a guy you've just hooked up with. Still, the more they talk, the more you can find a way to get the fuck out of here.

Hopefully with Andrew, too, but you aren't going to get your ass killed over a man.

You look for a way to escape, but there's only your room (more like a cage) and . . well, jumping off a 3 story balcony doesn't seem like the better option. Right now, that is.

Madly, you even think of climbing up, but your childhood rock climbing classes did not prepare you for this kind of scenario. You hopelessly remain in place, heart beating rapidfire.

Ashley fixates her eyes back on you, and her glare sends a shiver down your spine. This bitch has no soul, you think, backing up until you bump into the railing. Your legs feel like hollow sticks. You grip the railing for support, praying for a way out. Her brother is the only leverage you have, so you face him, eyes pleading.

Andrew stands between the two of you, but she only looks up at him and says,

"It'll always be me, Andy. It always has been, and it always will be."

For a brief moment, you truly believe he'll kill her. Despite her wielding a baseball bat (with some dried bloodstains, mind you), he's strong enough to overpower her. But that hope quickly dies down as he slumps against the wall, turning his gaze away from you.

You grit your teeth. Fucking sister-loving bastard.

"Looks like we're having dinner tonight!" Ashley exclaims, a smirk pulling across her face. You don't even try to wonder at what she means. Probably crazy nonsense, and you have bigger fish to fry. She strides forward, not hesitating as she raises the bat.

You slide away right as she swings, the bat hitting the railing and leaving a dent in its wake. Blood pumps through your veins and your body feels like air as you rush to the other side of the balcony. The space feels small, especially when there's a swinging bat to avoid.

Ashley swings again.

"Having fun?" you ask between swings, heaving for breath.

She laughs. "Tons."

While she's distracted, you grip the end of the bat, pushing it forward so it jabs her pelvic bone.

"Fuck," she says, wincing. Her grip on the bat loosens and you rip it from her grasp. You're about to kick her when she punches your side.

It hurts, and you wonder why she'd punch there. You look down and see red blooming on your shirt.

Of course she has a knife, too.

You stumble back, accidentally dropping the bat.

She steps forward, grinning because she knows she's won.

Of course I get killed by a wannabe mall goth.

"Last words, or are you not much of a talker?" she asks, flipping her hair to the side. Her smile is infuriating. And especially her eyes. There's no way those purple eyes aren't contacts.

"Fuck you," you whisper, because it's all you can think of in the moment. All I wanted was to kiss your brother. Sheesh.

She laughs, arms raised, knife poised directly over your heart. You close your eyes, waiting for an ache in your ribs, for the sounds of your hitched breaths.

Bang.

That is definitely not the sound of a knife. You open your eyes, brows furrowed. Facing you is Andrew. His eyes are looking down, his face a mask of neutrality. You look down and see his sister face down. Dead.

"Oh my god, fuck, fuck," you say. You keep saying that for a long time, a new wave of anxiety crashing over you. "We—you—just killed someone. Someone is dead." The cult music from next door, conveniently, starts playing. It does not help.

You slump down, holding your head in your hands. Not out of shame, but just to comprehend what's going on. You never envisioned you'd become a murderer. Then again, you never imagined you'd be locked up in am apartment complex, either. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Andrew also seems concerned, but not as much as he should be. You stop—breathe in, breathe out—and look up at him.

You ask, "How are you so calm? After, you know, shooting your sister?"

He bites his lip. (As inappropriate of a time it is to say this, you find this incredibly attractive.) "I guess part of me has been wanting to do this for a long time. This isn't the first time she's done this." He slumps down by her body. He reaches out and touches Ashley's hand, not quite holding it. "As much as I want to feel guilty, I don't. Being fucked up must be in our genes."

You nod, drawing your legs close to yourself. Part of you, in some relative sense, can relate to what he's saying.

After some time, you say, "Even if you're fucked up, at least you're not as fucked up as your crazy sister. Crazy dead sister." Maybe the dead sister jokes are a little too soon. But you can't help yourself.

"It's not really hard to achieve that, though, is it?" he responds, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Everything about his voice draws you in. There's a tiredness to it that reminds you of coffee and late nights like this. Of bedsheets and the cold.

"Thank you for saving me. For a while, I thought you'd bailed on me," you murmur.

He's quiet for a moment. "I did debate it for a moment. But I can't keep living like this. I want to spend time with someone I could love without also hating. She leeched everything from me."

His words strike you. You feel your heart bubble inside you, and you suppress the smile that nearly breaks across your face. You're someone he could love.

Before he's been someone you've only lusted after, mainly because a real relationship in your situation had seemed impossible. But now . . .

You run a hand through your hair. "We have to get out of here."

He nods, the slight movement causing a lock of hair to fall in his face. You reach out and move it back, feeling the warmth of his skin. His cheeks grow pink, but he stays still.

You look out from the balcony. There's only one way out.

"Andrew, we're going to have to jump."