Look East | A Hozier Fanfiction |

8

The melody running through Andrew's mind wouldn't stop. He couldn't sleep and eating was limited to a few handfuls of crisps or a piece of fruit. He was on his third day of sleeplessness and mania when his doorbell rang. He looked up from his notebook with a start.

"Andy! Open the damn door you fucking knob!" Jon's voice met his ears.

"Shit," Andrew muttered. He rushed to the door, smoothing his hair down as he walked. "Hey," he said as he swung the door open.

"Jesus you look like hell," Jon remarked, pushing past him into the house. "Very half-dead-chic."

"Come on in," Andrew said quietly, shutting the door after him.

"Good God, what the hell happened here?" Jon asked as he looked around.

Andrew looked around the great room and winced. He didn't recall making the huge mess, but in his mania he didn't remember the last time he took a shit either. Mugs and plates were stacked haphazardly on any surface that would hold them. His notebook lay open on the coffee table and several mugs had left rings on the bare wood. He caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror and nearly scared himself.

His hair was matted and wild, spilling from a bun he didn't remember putting it in. His clothes looked like he hadn't changed them in four days and his teeth felt a little fuzzy when he ran his tongue across them. Somehow, he'd also managed to get bits of Tayto's stuck in his five-day beard. He brushed them out, hoping his brother didn't see them.

"Writing?" Jon asked, picking up a half-eaten piece of toast from the sofa as though it was radioactive.

"Yeah," Andrew replied, scratching his head.

"Ok. Well, I hope you're present enough for dinner tonight," his brother said as he dropped the toast and wiped his hands.

"What?" Andrew asked.

"Dinner. Tonight. Mum insists," Jon said. "She said you weren't answering her texts or calls and sent me over here to make sure you hadn't popped your clogs."

Andrew shuffled through papers, plates, and other debris to find his mobile phone. It didn't turn on. "Its dead."

"Well that explains that," Jon said. "Pop it on the charger and get cleaned up. We're leaving in half an hour."

There was no sense in arguing. He sighed and climbed the stairs to his room. After putting his phone to charge, he stripped down and got into the shower. The water relaxed muscles he didn't even know were tense and it felt good to rinse off several days' worth of grime. When he got into a creative whirlwind, he could focus on little else. Personal grooming tended to fall by the wayside.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips, contemplating if he should shave or not.

"Ten minutes!" Jon shouted from below.

Beard it is, Andrew decided. He brushed his teeth and went to his closet to find an outfit. After settling on a plain black long sleeve shirt, a red flannel over shirt, and a pair of black jeans, he ran a brush through his still-wet hair and trotted down the steps with socks and Vans in-hand, mobile in his back pocket.

Jon had done a bit of clearing up while he waited. The dirty dishes were piled in the sink and the crumbs had been hoovered away, but the papers were still strewn across the coffee table. His brother knew better than to mess with hs creative process. The last time that happened, the two exchanged more than harsh words.

Jon was halfway out the door by the time Andrew got his shoes on and sprinted after him. "Any idea why I'm being pressganged into dinner?" he asked as Jon drove down the narrow lane.