Sorrowed Souls [Andy Biersack x Reader]

Knowing

"Good afternoon." The female officer flipped a small notebook into existence. "I'm officer Faulkner. This is my partner, officer Bradley."

The man in uniform nodded solemnly; Faulkner continued on.

"We understand there was an attack on this property sometime today?"

"Yeah," you said just as Andy nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

"You—go ahead."

"Nah, I'm good. Go on and say—"

"But you..."

Andy shook his head, motioning for you to speak. So, you did.

You thought of the highway wind filling up your lungs while in Andy's car. You thought of how his lips tasted like ash and meat. You thought of how all those days seemed to roll into one, and you spoke.

"Andy and I were here a few days ago when his ex—Juliet—swung and broke the front window. It was repaired fairly quickly—but..."

You swallowed, and you thought of that air drowning you. You pushed back, pushed past it all, and glanced to Andy.

"I'm not sure if it's the first attack, the first thing she's ever done..."

"She tagged my car a while back, shortly after we broke up. Keyed it pretty good, too. Smashed both lights."

I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights, I slashed a hole in all four tires​​​​​​. This song was also on your bestie's mind, even if she wasn't singing it.

You glanced behind to the girl who still sat on the couch, exchanging small knowing smiles.

A pen clicked closed. You looked to the two officers, then watched as they bid their goodbyes and left, the male officer slipping Andy a business card.

"For anything else you might remember," he said, and Andy left it at that with a nod.

You flopped back onto the couch, sitting besides your bestie. This thing was going onto the curb; better make the best of it while you could. "What'd I miss?"

"When you and Sargent Space Case were smiling at each other? Nothing much—just Juliet's family history of mental illness."

Your friend gasped, one hand to her open mouth. "You don't think—"

Andy shook his head.

"Dunno," he said, hands in his pockets. "But she does do a lot of stuff impulsively."

"I do a lot of shiz impulsvely, but—"

"You're not mentally unhealthy," you interjected. "Trust me, I would know."

You looked at both pairs of stares, quick to raise one eyebrow.

"What? Psych is kinda my thing."

"And more layers unfold," Andy said, half-singing those words and making your heart flutter up to your upper-chest, filling that empty space.

All that I know, is your space is empty...

You nearly missed Andy's direction, the words he spoke.

"You guys wanna be my heroes and grab a broom, dust pan? Three is much faster than one."

Your friend hopped up from the couch. "Aye, aye, captain!"

"Good," Andy said. "Let's get to work."