Feelings That Turn into Demons💀

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Andy sat at his desk in his home office, hyperventilating. His chest heaved as he tried in vain to suck in any amount of oxygen, but nothing seemed to help. His heart slammed against his ribcage and his vision was blurry from tears as he fought to calm down, but nothing helped, everything was falling apart and it was his own fucking fault.

He had just gotten off the phone with his manager, Blasko. Informing him that there were no plans of future tours for Black Veil, and after the re-recording of We Stitch These Wounds, there were no plans for future albums as well.

In layman's terms, Black Veil Brides was over.

The band that has been apart of Andy's life since he was sixteen was now a thing of the past, and it was killing him.

Bvb was never supposed to end, not like this.  After everything they've been through together, all the hatred and vitriol spat at them by the rock community, they toughed it out, they stood tall and gave those fuckers the finger as the continued to grow in their success, their fan base knocking down every door for them to assure of that.

It was almost poetic that the only thing that could destroy Black Veil Brides was in fact Black Veil Brides.

Andy could feel bile rising in his throat, and stood up quickly, all but running to the bathroom before he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach.

He coughed and gagged, his shaking hands gripping the seat as he threw up. Finally after what felt like forever, there was nothing left to throw up.

Andy sobbed, his throat and nostrils burning as he breathed heavily, unable to think straight as panic and despair filled him. He had been sad when making Vale, depressed during the Resurrection tour, but those moments were nothing compared to the finality that he was feeling now.

It really was over.

No matter the breaks they took, recording separately, or Andy staying on a different bus to keep some semblance of peace seemed to help, and now?

Now the singer had no choice but to walk away. For good.

Andy wished he was tougher, he wished he wasn't so fucking sensitive. If he wasn't then he could just suck it up and keep going, keep dealing with his fucking asshole of a bassist. At least he'd still have his band.

At this point, he used the term band loosely. For so long they were brothers, family, but now? Andy couldn't remember the last time they texted just to chat, or hung out off tour- hell, even on tour seeing as Andy was on a separate fucking bus.

He wiped his mouth, and sat back as he cried, he didn't think he would ever be able to stop.

Andy's mind screamed at him, ripping into pieces as he pulled ar his hair, rocking back and forth on the cold tiles of his bathroom.

'They all hate you now'

'They were fine, you were the one who had to be a bitch about everything.'

'How fucking selfish could you be to take away their main source of income just because you're a sensitive piece of shit?'

The voices were right, it was his fault. Jake, Jinxx, and CC all hated him now, and for a good reason. Why did he have to be so selfish?

Andy buried his face in his knees, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried and failed to regulate his breathing.

"I can't do this." He whispered hysterically to himself, and he wasn't even sure what he meant. End the band or deal with the panic attack that came from it?

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