these darkened stars {andy biersack}

chapter fourteen

trigger warning: mentions of r*pe/s*xual assault

andy didn't ask her about the details of what had happened that night before they met, didn't want to. he knew that some things were better left as secrets than spoken aloud. there were truths that were hard to accept, and that was okay. he understood, and he empathized as much as he could without coming off as a pitying asshole.

alex refused to talk about it for two days. on the first day, they took a walk and stopped at a small bakery in the middle of town. they got a pastry or two, took a seat on the patio outside, and continued with their snacks in nothing but silence.

it was a good silence. the whisper of the day's breeze flitted through their hair and birds sang high up in the trees. the street wasn't too busy, with only a small amount of cars and people passing by as they ate. there were no disruptions, no tension. at least, it seemed that way.

when he was finished with his bagel, he thought there might have been an opening, an opportunity, so he took it. "so uh... what are y-"

she shook her head, and he instantly closed his mouth. "please don't," she'd whispered, voice full of the emotions that had emptied from her eyes. it stung him, what was in that voice. the raw grief of what had been done to her.

a shell. that was what she looked like, sounded like. it was scary, to see her transform the way she did, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors she felt, the dread and pain that must have been coursing through her.

deciding to give her time, they stayed at the same hotel for another couple of days. he wanted to help her, he did, and he was going to. but first, she needed time to come to terms with the situation. that, she had to do on her own, but he was still there, even if it was just a brush of his hand or a soft humming as she fell asleep. he planned to be there for however long this situation played out, and hopefully afterwards.

after the second day, when she had stopped locking herself in the bathroom and instead buried herself under the blankets, andy approached the subject again.

"alex?" he asked into the dim room, crossing his fingers she was still awake. the sheets rustled. her head poked out of the covers, revealing the red-rimmed green eyes he loved so much.

again he spoke. "i think it's time to talk about it, don't you think?"

she shook her head vigorously and ducked back down beneath the sea of white, a signal to leave her alone, but he wasn't going to back down this time. if she dwelled on it alone for too long, she'd become a ghost.

he knew what being a ghost felt like. not physically, but in his heart; in the cinderblock garden he'd hidden away deep inside his heart for the years he'd been on the road. the graves he'd dug not just for himself but for everyone he'd ever lost, mentally, emotionally, physically. their headstones were engraved with names and dates, but nothing else. the rest of it, the words that meant something to him and meant nothing to the rest of the world, those were reserved from him alone. he kept those in the depths of his thoughts. but he had become a ghost since the building of those graves, living a nightmare that would never end.

he wouldn't let her become a ghost, too. not like this. not ever.

andy rose from his bed silently, circling her bed and sliding in the other side, pulling the covers up around him. he stayed in a sitting position, scooting until he was in the middle. then, gently, he tugged on the covers she had tucked safely around her as if it could guard her from all evils.

alex sucked in a breath. "andy..."

no, she wasn't fragile. she was strong. all she needed was a little support, and he would give that to her if she wanted it.