The Art of Reconstruction (Andley)

2: The Kids Aren't Alright, But The Adults Aren't Much Better

I sat in the studio with an annoyed scowl on my face. Juliet had driven me here herself to make sure that I didn't run off. I was extremely hungover after going through a bottle of whiskey like nobody's business. I refused to take off my sunglasses and sat slumped in the corner, not bothering to hide my discomfort. To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on. I should've been, but I had decided to be an asshole that day.

"What do you think, Andy?" Oh, shit. I hadn't been expecting Jake to ask me any questions. I nodded. "Uh, yeah, A7 there. Sounds good," I said, giving him an awkward thumbs up. Everyone looked at me as though I were crazy, their faces set in questioning expressions. "Andy," Jake began slowly, "that wasn't even close to the chord we were playing. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," I said, furrowing my brow. "Why wouldn't I be?" Maybe because of the girl hanging off Ashley's arm like a leech. He had brought her along and gave us no explanation other than that she wanted to see what he did for a living. Couldn't he just sleep with her and dump her like he did the rest of the whores? She wasn't even pretty. She was as orange as, well, an orange and had those damn silicone floatations devices that were the size of my head. There was an excessive amount of black eye shadow on her lids, some of which had fallen onto her cheeks, and her lashes were like spider legs and seemed to stick together every time she blinked.

"Are you drunk?" CC asked.

"No," I replied indignantly.

"Stoned?"

"You know I can't get stoned without vomiting all over myself," I said, leaning my head against my hand. "I assure you that I am completely sober."

"Then what's up with you?" CC pressed.

"Nothing. I just need some air," I sighed, standing up. "You guys keep working. I'll be back in a minute." I walked out of the room, but not before tripping twice on the chords that crisscrossed the floor. Curse my damn gazelle legs!

When I finally made it outside to the alleyway between the building and the next one over it was an incredible relief. I felt as though I'd been choked by someone, but now they'd removed their hands to let me breathe. Maybe that was just because of the excessive amounts of cheap perfume that girl had been wearing. What even was her name? Jasmine? Yeah, that was it. She had officially ruined that name for me.

Anger and jealousy flowed through me, making my hands tighten into fists. Did I even have a right to be jealous? Ashley hadn't been mine in two years. Why was I even mad? Shouldn't I just move on? Why the hell was I still in love with him? More importantly, why didn't he still love me?

I paced back and forth in an attempt to calm myself, raking a hand through my hair and knotting my fingers in it. I considered calling Juliet, but I realized that I had left my phone in the studio. I didn't want to bother her anyway.

A lump grew in my throat and I swallowed hard, trying to force back the tears I knew were bound to come. They were tears that were prompted by a combination of blood-boiling rage and soul-sucking depression. I turned around and without thinking, slammed my fist into a door. That was a bad idea since the door just so happened to be made of metal. "Shit," I growled, cradling my fist.

"Whoa, Andy, are you okay?" I whipped around to see Ashley exiting the studio, his eyes wide. He looked concerned and that just pissed me off even more. If he was really concerned then why was that Jasmine girl there? "I'm fine," I snapped.

"Obviously not," Ash said. "You just punched a door. Speaking of which, is your hand okay? You could've broken it." He reached out to try to take my hand and examine my red, quickly-bruising knuckles, but I jerked away. I didn't need or want help from him. "It's fine. I'm fine. Just go back inside," I growled. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared down at him, trying to look intimidating.

Ash mimicked my stance and raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. I tried to stare him down, but he didn't seem to be fazed. "Leave me alone," I said, my voice low.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he said firmly. I made a small sound of annoyance, rolling my eyes behind the sunglasses. He narrowed his own eyes a little bit, his gaze expectant. Just looking at him stirred up a slew of old memories and I felt my neutral expression falter, my lip quivering ever so slightly. I tried to take a deep breath, but it came out shaky and unsteady. That must've tipped Ashley off to the fact that I was trying to appear strong because he stepped closer to me, his gaze softening a bit.

"You're not alright, are you, Andy?" he said. "Don't bother lying. I know you better than anyone." No, you don't, I wanted to scream. I knew he was right, though. I was not alright. I was anything but. My head swam and I felt incredibly weak and vulnerable all of a sudden. A choked sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. The first tear trailed its way down my cheek.

I tried not to bring attention to it, but Ash noticed. How could he not? He pulled me into a hug and I let him, hiding my face in his hair. I tried not to let another drop escape. I didn't want him to know just how broken I truly was. I didn't want him to know that I was dying inside. I didn't want him to know that it was all because of him.

"What's the matter, Andy? You can tell me," Ash murmured into my neck. "I'm here for you, Andy." That set me off because he wasn't here for me. Not anymore. I started sobbing, clinging to him desperately. He held me tightly to him, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulders. I drank in his warm, musky scent. It was like a drug to me, just one little taste and I was already getting high off it. If I could've I would've stayed in his arms forever.

I remembered how he used to comfort me when we were alone in the privacy of our bedroom. I remembered how after Kellin had died he'd held me close and reminded me that there was still a future, that I still had a life left to live. He had whispered that he loved me and that he always would. What a lie that had been.

I shoved him away almost angrily, ripping off my sunglasses and furiously wiping away the tears. I didn't need him to take care of me. I could do it myself. He didn't have a right to do it. He'd given that role up. "I'm going home," I said in a slightly hostile tone. "Tell the guys I'm sick or something. Really, I don't care what you tell them as long as it's not the truth." With that, I turned on my heel and started out of the alleyway.

"Wait, Andy!" Ash called, grabbing me by the elbow.

"What?" I snapped, glaring at him. He stared at me for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. I waited for a moment, my gaze cold and harsh. "Nothing," he sighed. "Never mind."

"Fine," I said. I jerked my arm out of his grip and marched away to where my car was parked in the street. I passed the alley on my way out and I saw that he was still standing there, staring at the ground. His shoulders were slumped and he looked utterly defeated. I looked away quickly. I didn't care that he looked just as sad as I felt. He deserved it. Right?