Nothing else matters

Thousands of kids were going to be bombarding Andy for signatures within ten minutes.

What a nightmare.

Andy disliked kids intensely, even his fans. They whined, complained, and were the worst of the crazy fans. Especially thirteen year old girls. God! Why was it him they always went crazy for? Andy sighed as he considered the possibility of meeting someone 18 or over today; who, and where was his soulmate on this seemingly desolate planet?

How he wished he had someone to love.

"Andy! Hurry your ass up and get off the shitter!" CC's distinctive cry awoke Andy from his daydream; he had forgotten he was on the loo.

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"Sign happy birthday for me Andy!!" yet another poser tween pushed a pathetic photo in front of Andy's face. At least they didn't have to deal with obsessed fans like this at concerts - that was security's job! Also, being suffocated with Hollister stinking girls wasn't exactly Andy's cup of tea, as you could probably tell.

"Sure." Andy scrawled the same old signature with the same old black sharpie, sighing as she giggled with glee and the line of clones moved forward ever so slightly, but only slightly; some were coming back for more. When he had been with Juliet, he had loved his fans, wanted to sign their signatures, and genuinely wanted to take pictures with them! How your love can change your outlook on life!

"Hey buddy, you feelin' okay?" a light nudge on Andy's shoulder woke him up, and he looked up to see Jake's concerned face, and in front of him, an annoyed looking brat, hands on her hips, clad in a too-tight BVB top and shorts that revealed more than any non-pedophile would want to see of a child's butt. A child's fat butt, that is.

Ugh! What had he done to deserve this cruel punishment?

Composing himself, he mumbled a decently happy reply to Jake to assure him he was fine, and got on with doing what these brats' parents had paid him to do. Sign, sign, sign, sign, sign... Was signing mentioned in there?

Whilst staring at the plain black tablecloth draping the table he was sat at, a sweet scent hit his nose, like a knife slicing through a tomato. This time, it wasn't Hollister spray, or any other shitty perfume. In fact, it was a genuinely lovely smell; undescribable, but heavenly to Andy's nose. Perhaps it was the scent he wanted to be able to bury himself in when he was sad, or lonely, and wake up to every morning.

Yes, he definitely wanted to wake up to it every morning.

Not wanting to miss this angel in a crowd of demons, Andy bolted upright in his seat, suddenly awakened, to meet eyes with black rimmed, wide, innocent eyes that reminded him of the sea. His favourite beach: Long Beach, the same, bright colours reflected in her eyes as the waters there.

That looked like some pretty dull water compared to this angel's eyes, on second thoughts, considered Andy.

Then he noticed her lips moving, but, it was as if time had slowed down, and he could not hear a word. All he could see were those lips. No, they weren't huge, kissable lips of a barbie doll - certainly not - but Andy had always found plump lips obnoxious and fake (even if they were real). Like her eyes, they were simply perfection in the form of a face.

Oh wait - had she finished speaking? Andy couldn't tell, hell - he wouldn't have cared if he was salivating, this girl was beautiful, and she looked as if she sure didn't know it.

"It's Amber, Andy... Andy?" the girl asked hesitantly. Wait a second - she actually said his name. Was he dreaming?

SHE said HIS name?