Numbers || Andy Biersack

chapter one

I was sixteen when I met him behind a crowded concert venue. He was twenty nine, inhaling cigarette smoke like it was what kept him alive. He was dark and intimidating--all leather jackets and tight jeans and stony gazes. It was his concert that had just ended. The air still seemed to hold the echo of heavy bass guitars and his deep voice. Sweat glistened on his pale skin, but the smile he'd worn when he'd said a final goodbye to the crowd was gone, replaced by a miserable frown.

He didn't notice me at first, just letting smoke billow from his lips and staring into empty space. It wasn't until I shifted awkwardly, my boots crunching against the gravel that his gaze snapped up to meet mine. His eyes were the purest blue, the color of the Mediterranean sea.

The contemplative expression on his face transformed into a fake smile. "Hey, thanks for coming to the show." I blinked at him, jarred by his change. "You want an autograph? A picture?"

"No," I muttered, crossing my arms.

"Then what do you want, kid?" 

"Firstly, I'm not a kid," I snap, the word hitting me like an insult. "And I don't want anything but some fresh air. It's a bit crowded in there."

"I noticed," he smirked, like he held a secret.

The fact was, he didn't. He might have thought I was oblivious to who he was, but it was fairly obvious. I'd only watched him jump around the stage for an hour, licking mic stands and eliciting the screams of twenty and thirty-year olds at Black Veil Brides reunion show. This mysterious guy with nicotine breath and a bad attitude was none other than rock legend, Andy Biersack. Maybe legend was a strong word. In twenty years, he might be referred to as a rock legend. However, at the moment, he was bordering on washed up rockstar.

Three years ago today, Black Veil Brides had officially announced the end of their longtime reign over the metalcore scene. Whether you loved them or hated them, you knew who they were. Of course, at the time of their prime, I was nine, so I didn't really enjoy it much. It wasn't until about two years ago when I noticed the band and began enjoying their music. They were already broken up and I thought I would never get the chance to see them live.

That's why tonight was important. I loved the music--the sound of Andy's deep melodic voice and the harmony of the guitars. Most of the audience was around Andy's age or a little younger, reliving their teenage memories. I was in the midst of mine, enjoying a band that had been forgotten by most for the moment.

"Well, what did you think of the show?" Andy asked, taking a step closer to me. We were now only a few feet apart. Beneath the dim street lamps, the encounter felt like a forbidden secret, even though it was only a few shared words.

"It was good. In The End was my favorite," I replied, thinking back to Andy's soaring vocals and the movement of the crowd. The lights had danced around the venue and for the moment, I'd felt euphoric.

"That's one of my favorites too," he smiled. His smile was brilliant. I wasn't much of a fangirl. I knew who the members were and their roles, but I didn't know anything of their personal lives or spend my time lusting after them. I'd only seen the moody look Andy always gave the camera, but never his endearing smile.

In the chilly November air, I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as goosebumps crept onto my arms. My jacket hadn't seemed necessary in the crowded venue, but now I wished I'd brought it. Andy eyed me, taking a drag from his diminishing cigarette. He flicked it, letting grey ash fall to the ground as he breathed out the smoke. The act was oddly attractive. 

"You cold?" he inquired, though the answer was obvious.

I nodded.

"Come inside with me. I'll introduce you to the guys and you can warm up."