dear violet ➳ andy biersack (currently editing)

19 - unedited

__________

chapter
eighteen
andy

__________

God, I was tired.

It was the day after Violet'd had her panic attack, the day after I'd realised just how deeply in love with her I was.

All I wanted was to climb back into bed and sleep, sleep, sleep beneath the crisp white duvet covers with Violet's warm body curled up against my side.

All I wanted was to awake to her smokey amber eyes and tinkling laugh, our ankles crossed and our fingers intertwined while we kissed and spoke.

But instead of a late morning with Violet, I was meeting an interviewer for an online magazine arcticle.

Something for 'a fresh insight into the latest album' or whatever.

Honestly, I didn't see the point. We did these interviews over and over again all to put a new headline over the same old news. Jon said it was just to promote the band, but I still didn't buy it.

I reached up to pull down the hood of my black jumper. Not like anyone here would recognize me.

The coffee shop was bustling with people queing at the sleek black counters, sitting at round wooden tables and sipping on drinks under the warm yellow light.

It was frigid and gloomy outside, a cool wind sweeping the mist downtown. But in here it was warm enough that I could feel my fingers thawing.

Normally Jon would accompany me on events like these, but today he had an errand to run, so it was just me.

Not that I minded of course. At least now if I messed up, I wouldn't do it in front of too big an audience.

There. I spotted the interviewer with the white blonde hair and salmon blouse.

She looked up and smiled widely as I pulled up a seat at the table, flashing white teeth.

It was a false smile; the smile you expected from a distant relative who hated your guts but acted kindly towards you out of politeness anyway.

I got that smile a lot. From the photohraphers with their shiny cameras, the reporters and their crackling microphones, the other artists who pretended to know who I was when in reality, they were in so deep in the pop industry that the only rock band they knew was Nirvana.

This was going to be a long morning.

"Andy!" she exclaimed brightly, thrusting a bony hand across the table for me to shake. "I'm Catelyn. Heard so much about you! You're really stirring up a riot in the city. People are going crazy, just dying to see you - myself included. A huge fan, by the way."

A smiled a bit. "Thanks."

The waitress appeared to take our orders. I got a coffee and Catelyn got a fruit salad.

She flashed that artificial smile again after the waitress had left, crossing her legs and folding both arms over the table. Down to bussines.

"Now I've read many issues on the inspiration behind your latest album. Blogs, magazine articles, you name it. And they all give very vague answers, I have to say. You talk about battling an overpowering society that runs on fear, and in your movie, Legion of The Black, that is heavily portrayed. But there are two narratives aside from F.E.A.R as far as I'm aware. You and well, this girl. She's in trouble at school, in trouble with her parents and then - she gets kidnapped. Taken away by the govornment of that society, F.E.A.R, and locked up."