Poison Ivy

Chapter Fifteen: Persistent Itch

It'd been almost a week since I'd spoken to Andy last and if it wasn't for my stubborn attitude and constant ease of denial, I'd be able to admit that I had missed his annoying and arrogant voice, even if it were only a little.

He was an itch that begged to be scratched. Persistently. Yep. If I had to use a kinder word than the ones that came to mind in my repertoire of words to describe Andy Biersack, persistent would probably be it. Even when he wasn't there. Even when he was probably away, doing someone – something - else, and I was the last thing on his brain – he still begged for my attention. I guess I was the idiot that gave it to him time and time again.

That was another thing that bugged me – I missed the bastard. Wondered about him. What he was doing, whether he was thinking about me.

Lord, I was even getting jealous. What if there were other girls? What if I was just another notch in the bedpost and I didn't even know it? For all I knew, he was still with his last girlfriend. For all I know. That was the whole damned problem summed up in four easy words.

Shaking the manipulating thoughts from my mind, I suppressed the urge to call him just to hear his conceited, egotistical, proud, self-important and agonisingly perfect voice with its husky, deep, entrancing and almost translucent air to it.

I was going mad. Wesley sure would enjoy this; my traumatic meltdown from taking an involuntary week long break from Andy and his arrogance. His eyes would light up like the fourth of July if he knew I pined for the illustrious teasing of the person I loved to hate. Even more so, if Andy ever found out that I missed him I would not be able to live without the constant taunting, but then again, that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, would it? Not after how I've been reacting with his absence already.

Groaning, I all but slammed my head onto the desk I was seated in front of in the corner of my room. It wouldn't do me any good to procure brain damage; I managed to reason with myself, nodding as if to confirm my internal assertion. But it didn't change the fact that I still wanted to beat all thoughts of Andy from my mind and I knew that causing destruction to my brain and the cells within would do just that. But, no, that's insane and, had I been in a public place proclaiming my thoughts, I'd have been locked away in a mental institution by over-an-hour-ago now.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I stood up and pushed away from the desk. Deciding I needed to get out, I racked my mind for people I could see or places I could go. Not work. Mike wouldn't let me through the door in any case, even after a week of 'recuperation' that he had ordered me to take the evening he had called. So that was a definite no.

Huffing, I reached into my pocket and grabbed my phone deciding there was only one other person I'd be comfortable being around at the minute with my mind all over the place despite the fact that if I let anything slip he'd chew it all down enthusiastically for breakfast. 

"Wes," I said as the dialling tone cut off.

"No, it's chew toy Angus." The gravelly voice returned, entertainment dancing in his tone.

"Oh, uh, is Wesley there?" I questioned, a little less demanding. "It's Ivy." I elucidated as an afterthought.

"He is here, fag hag, I'll just get him for you." The smirk Gus wore was crystal clear within his tone, and if I hadn't known before, I now realised his amusement was elevated by the exalting laughter that boomed down the receiver as a crackling sound reverberated from Wes' phone.

"QW speaking," Wes' falsetto-esque voice shrilled down the phone.

"Hey Wes, if you're busy I can call back later." I informed him, already preparing to shut off the call and sulk in a corner for the rest of the day, pining for Andy's ignorant and annoying face and voice.