A Collection Of Andy Biersack Images

Meth

"(Name), I need you here right no-BLARGGHHH" you hear across the phone, the voice shaky and deep, sobbing, but belonging to who you know to be Andy, your best friend since you were in 3rd grade, now fourteen years old. You had grown up together.

"Oh my god Andy what's wrong...?!"

"J-just be here s-soon" he stutters

"Okay sweetheart" you hang up, slip on some ballet pumps and dash through the door and sprint down the pavement, teary eyed that Andy had tried something stupid. You force open the door, which he had left open and run upstairs, inhaling the scent of Andy's house.

"Andy?! Andy!! Where are you?" you scream, but you hear a sobbing and follow it to his room and see him sitting at a desk, his face is sweaty, crusty puke sits at the corners of his mouth, his face sweaty, covered in cuts. Foil, lighters and white crystals were strewn about the desk. A tourniquet tied tightly around his left arm.

You gasp, run up to him and take him off the chair, and seat him on his bed and take into your arms, and rock him gently back and forth while stroking his hair, clutching him tight as he cries. Andy never cried.

"Ssshh...sweetheart it's okay....shhhh" you soothe.

"Honey where are your parents?" you ask him.

"T-they're o-out" he sobs.

"Okay. What have you been taking?"

"M-meth..." he sniffs

"Oh god...we'll get through this, okay?"

"Why did you do this to yourself?"

"I-I don't k-know"

"I think you've been unhappy lately, haven't you? Well listen. You're gonna take a bath and we're gonna fix this, ok?"

"B-but-"

"Don't argue. Let's go" you say, and lead him to the bathroom, and start to run it. You lock the door and take a damp flannel from the sink, and lift up his bangs to pat at his face, ridding his mouth of all the crust and tears. You fill up a glass from the side with water and hand it to him. You prepare a toothbrush with toothpaste and hand it to him.

"Brush" you tell him, and he does so.

You pour bubble bath into the tub and swirl it around.

"Keep brushing" you tell a shaking Andy.

Andy rinses out his mouth and you begin to unwrap the tourniquet from his arm and remove his grey, baggy, puke stained tank top and throw it in the dirty laundry, along with his pyjama pants.

"You better take them off yourself" you say, referring to his boxer shorts. He does so and you take them from him and chuck them into the basket, and turn around when he's gotten in the bath, and kneel beside him, using the flannel from earlier to scrub up and down his pale arms and the track marks he'd made by injecting. You move the flannel to his face and gently cleanse his face. You take the cup from earlier and fill it up with water, place your hand at his forehead, tilt his head back slightly and pour the water over his hair. You take some shampoo and massage it into his hair and rinse it until it's gone. You stare at Andy for a minute and lean over to place a kiss on his cheek.

"You're a funny boy, Andy" you say. He doesn't reply, just stares down his chest shyly.

"Come on, lets get you out" you stand up and fetch a warm towel from the rack and hold it up, as Andy stands up. and you wrap it round his tall figure.

"Nice and warm, huh?" you smile, holding his face and smiling up at him, but your smile fades when you see there's a suffering in his eyes. You sigh and lead him into his room and fetch his some pyjamas. Andy's house was like your second home, you know where everything is, you know what it smells like, you recognise the colour of all the walls. You hand him the pyjamas and turn to Andy's desk to clear away all the gear on his desk, most of the equipment going straight into the bin.

"Come on" you yawn and stretch, removing your shoes and hoodie, you clamber into his bed and he follows. You wrap your arms around him and cuddle him close.

"I'm gonna help you, okay?"

"....but how?"

"Well. Tell me when you first started taking meth" you whisper, gently tracing his cheekbones with your finger tips.

"Two weeks" he says.

"How many times do you think you've done it?"

"Every day"

"Okay, well, I want you to promise me something, Andy"

"What?" he looks you in the eyes and you stroke along his neck.

"Don't touch any meth. Ever. If you do, I'll know. I'll come and check"

"(Name), it's not that easy...I can't just stop, you don't understand"

"I'll give you something...like..I will get you a date with any single girl in class"

"It won't work"

"Sure it will! You might even get laid"

"So I get sex with any girl I like"

"That's not what I said at all, Andy"

"Oh..."

"Andy, you have to give up, for me? I'll give you anything...."

"Okay, but you have to promise you'll give me anything"

"We'll what is it you want?"

"You can't buy it"

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you when I give up"

"Fine. Deal. If you give up meth for fourteen weeks, you can have anything that I have. Okay?"

"Anything you have?"

"Anything. I promise" You smile and kiss his cheek. "We're gonna be spending a lot more time together. I have to make sure you don't cheat the game"

"I'm okay with that"

"You should get some sleep now, sweetheart" you whisper and cuddle him close.

"Night"

"Goodnight, Andy"