when shadows crawl {andy biersack}

two lost souls {paint it black}

"andy, come back to bed," he heard the voice of his lover mumble from the hotel room behind him, the person he was proud to call his wife. he was sat on the windowsill, legs dangling dangerously over the edge. they were several floors up, and he could've plummeted to his death at any moment, but he was too tired of everything to give a shit.

sighing, andy took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it in his mouth and letting the calming sensation flow over his bones before he exhaled the deadly smoke.

"i'll be there in a minute."

a lie.

he couldn't sleep, as per usual, and he knew that if he went back to bed, he would only find himself in this very same spot mere minutes later.

shuffling of blankets sounded, his wife joining him in the dark a second after, the two of them looking out towards the city that seemed more like a curse than a home.

"i don't want to be here anymore, em," he whispered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, as if he were afraid the draft in the air would carry his words to someone else's ears. the tender words made him feel vulnerable, and vulnerability made it easy for others to take advantage of such words.

her cold hand found his shoulder, thumb rubbing slow circles into the fabric of his shirt, like a mother would do to comfort a child. it didn't do anything to comfort him, or ease the tenseness in his muscles

"why not, andy?" she asked.

her words, however, were lost in the cool night breeze, floating away like clouds before vanishing from the air. they returned to silence, neither of them wanting to say anything else in fear of another fight. they were both so tired of fighting. not one of them had forgotten the years they had to spend apart, alone in their own separate beds because even the sight of each other made them sick, heads spinning with anger and hurt. emotions were something not easily controlled, even when you've lived far beyond human years.

he responded, anyways, throat croaking in response as if he were holding back tears. andy had never been good at concealing what he was feeling, especially when what he felt was vulnerable and open. but still, he tried.

"they'll never accept us here. you know that."

"andy-"

"don't even try to deny it," he sighed, taking one last, long drag of his cigarette before he put it out and threw it into the small black pot set out. there was a faint urge to keep it lit, throw it out the window and hope the city went up in flames and everything burned to the ground, including the people. it wouldn't happen, though, knowing that it was impossible and he would be punished further for it, so he resorted to tensely folding his hands in his lap and looking out at the world in front of him.

what a lonely world it was.

"andy, not everyone here hates you," she tried to reason. "please come back to bed."

he shook his head. "can't sleep."

"andy, please don't do this," she pleaded, holding on to his arm as if he were going to fall out any moment, "not tonight."

"em, i don't wanna be here," his voice shook. there was no hiding the angry red rings around his eyes anymore, tears wanting to spill through, not even in the dimness. "i don't wanna be here."

"i know!" she cried. "i know, andy! damnit, just go back to bed. we can talk about this at a reasonable hour when you're not dangling half your body dozens of feet above the ground."