I slowly opened the door to my apartment. I didn't know if Andy was home or not. Realizing he wasn't I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and checked my texts. Nothing. Checked my calls, nothing. I finally decided on checking my twitter. The first thing I saw was a tweet from Andy! He said he was on his way home, and is so excited to feel me in his arms again. I retweeted it and told him I can't wait for him to come home either. Almost immediately I had replies.They were from fans. Only they weren't positive like normal. They were hateful. Like:
"You don't deserve someone like Andy. How can you stand to look at yourself? You're an ugly bitch compared to him. Just do us all a favor and just kill yourself already?"
They're right. I don't.
Andy won't be here for another few hours. Maybe it's time I caught up with an old friend. His name is Irwin. Irwin is nice. He always listened to my screams and he wipes away my tears. He makes me feel all better.
I went to the bathroom, and dug around in a secret drawer I have. My finger slid across something smooth, cold and metal. Irwin.
I picked him up, and hugged him in the palm of my hand. I took him to my room and pulled out my canvas. Irwin and I love drawing. As soon as he stroked the brush across the blank, yet full space, I heard a door swing open. Andy! I had to find a safe place to hide them. I gingerly slid his brush in a drawer, and covered the canvas once more.
I rushed out of the bedroom and was met by the love of my life. He instantly dropped everything and rushed over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and picking me up, all while spinning me in circles with him. I reached around his neck and hugged him so tightly it's amazing that he didn't snap in half. He pulled back and planted his lips on mine passionately.
The rest of the night was spent with laughter, love and cuddling. Around 10:30 we decided to head to bed. Little did he know I wasn't going to sleep yet. I got up, stretched and headed of to the bathroom to "get ready for bed". As soon as I reached the doorway of our bathroom, I quietly opened the drawer and grabbed Irwin and my canvas. I quickly got changed and brushed my teeth leaving time for drawing. I sat on the toilet, grabbed his brush and he began to draw. Only with a twist. His brush is a blade and the canvas is me.
By now, he learned that it's easier to draw fast and efficient. After maybe 50 painless, bloody lines, Andy opened the door. He turned around and stared at me, still holding my brush, canvas exposed. Fuck. His jaw dropped as he stood there staring at my art, while I traced the pattern of the tiles on the floor with my eyes. When I looked up at him again, the tears were welling up, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision.
Immediately he dropped to his knees in front of me, pulling me into the familiar comfort of his embrace.
They are right. I don't deserve him.
My thoughts were interrupted by his silky voice.
"Why Y/N? You are too beautiful to do this. You are the most important person in the world. Please find something productive to do instead. Build something. Don't destroy yourself. Just know that I love you all the same. I am not going to try and fix you, I'm going to try to help you get through this. I love you, Y/N. More than I could ever scream."
By now the tears were inevitable. There is no stopping them.
"I....I...l-love you t-too Andy." I managed through my sobs.
He is so perfect.
He loves me.........He saved me!
