For as long as she can possibly remember, Michael Brentwood (Scott Foley) has always been Amy's lifeline, the only person she can count on to heal her pain, not only emotionally but more importantly, physically. He's unbelievably kind, compassionate...
With her hot pink backpack and large transparent beach tote slung over her right shoulder, Amy stepped off of the elevator and headed towards Andrew's apartment, her heart beating a little faster in anticipation of his lips upon hers again. It had only been two days since she'd last seen him, but for someone she loved so much, with all of her heart and soul, two days apart could feel a lot like two years. It might make her seem clingy, but it had been a very long time since she'd felt this passionately in love with anyone. Well...not since Michael. As hard as their break-up had been, she hoped he was happy now, with whoever the hell he was dating. Maybe she'd be able to handle his lack of appearances. Stupid job.
Quickly shaking the thought out of her head, she focused her attention on her one true love, Andrew. He was the only one that mattered right now. As she neared closer to his apartment, she heard the faint strumming of an acoustic guitar, playing a slow but catchy melody and Andrew singing, though she couldn't make out the exact lyrics. A soft smile crept across her face as she lifted her hand to loudly rap on the door.
The faint strumming stopped.
She heard a rustle of papers then quiet as she bounced on her toes, waiting patiently for him to come to the door. Her eyes lit up with a bright smile as the door opened, prepared to lay a big juicy kiss on his lips, but her smile abruptly vanished when she laid eyes on his half-battered face. Her jaw fell open, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach as she tried to formulate a sentence.
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"Hey baby," he said with a scowl.
"Oh, my god, Andrew!" She threw her arms around his neck, quickly pulling him into a warm and loving hug.
"I know." His arms instinctively enveloped her waist, his hand rubbing up and down her backside reassuringly. "Trust me, it's not as bad as it looks."
"Not as bad as it looks?" She scoffed. "Yeah right." Gradually pulling away, she looked up at him, her brows furrowing in concern as she cupped his face in both of her hands, scowling deeply as she gently brushed the pad of her thumb over the bruising around his left eye, then over his bottom lip. "Does it hurt?"
He winced. "It's still a little tender in some places, but it's getting better."
"When did this happen? How did this happen? Who did this to you?" She demanded, her angry voice carrying down the hall.
