PerfectionDefinition [AndrewBiersack]

I thought this was right.

This sensation I'm feeling is new to me. I'd never felt so happy before. So weightless. I felt like I was flying, and all the colors were swirling around me. But instead of being alone, Andy was with me.

My hands ran over his chest, the warm skin making my hands warm as the fabric ran beneath my fingers. I needed him. I needed him so much. In a romantic sense or not, I needed him.

He was a stability, perhaps more than Ronnie, who had been my best friend for a long time. But this feels so wrong to me, like I shouldn't be here, like I should be still hating him.

But I can't.

My hands move over his chest and shoulders, moving to his dark hair, and my fingers tug at it. He let out a small moan from the contact. But it's low, and it causes his hands to slide over the skin beneath my shirt.

It makes me shudder, especially as his fingers grace over my ribs. This time I let out a moan, a low moan, and I feel his smile against my mouth.

He pulls back, looking at me for a moment. "Do you... Do you want this?" he asked, leaning forward and kissing at the side of my mouth. I can't even answer. I just nod, quickly pushing my body back against his.

He lets out a low chuckle, his hands clasping at my hips and lift me up, bringing my thin legs around the middle of his torso. He pulls me to the bed, setting me down and hovering over me, his mouth pressing back to mine roughly.

I know this is wrong. But I want this. I need this, no matter how screwed up I am, I need this.

He senses this and smiles. It's a genuine smile, not that stupid smirk he gives me to piss me off. It's different. It's beautiful. It's what I need.

****

When I wake up, I feel cold. I blink my grey eyes, wondering where I was, what had happened, what I was doing here.

I yawn quietly. My head feels heavy, and my hair is heavily askew. It's so cold in here, and my pale skin prickles at the feeling of the air. My body shifts and I sit up, the sheets sliding across my flesh.

The memories rush back, and I remember the night before. Andy had been here with me. He'd touched me, loved me, held me. I smile softly, reaching out to touch the vocalist.

But I touch nothing but sheets.

I look around the room. Where was he? Did he really leave me after what we shared the night before?

Was it even possible to forget that night? Why would he do this to me?

My fist clenches around a handful of sheets.

I am so done with Andy Biersack.

I slither from beneath the sheets, tugging my blanket around my tiny self and getting dressed. I tug on the skinnies with my signature chain, the black shirt, and the boots. The clothes are dirty, but I didn't mind. My room was down the hall anyway.

I left the room, my hands still in fists as I went to my own room. The curtains were pulled back from the wide glass windows, revealing that it was raining once again. We were leaving France tonight, I remembered, so I sighed, changing into some clean clothing, and began to pack.

Our set will start soon, but I don't think I'll show up. I didn't really care. I knew where to buy drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes.

I was no longer rehabilitating myself.

I was done.

But why exactly did it matter? Did it matter because I actually felt a spark of love for him? Or did I just trust him?

I wasn't sure, but I was too mad to care.

~~~~~~~~~~

I know I haven't updated in a while, and I'm so sorry, especially since this is so short. I am really sorry about that.

Love you guys so much though<3