Trigger Warning: Physical/emotional abuse, depression, anxiety, PTSD

"These won't work," Jake was saying, holding a notebook in which Andy had written lyrics for their newest songs. "I mean, above anything else, they just don't work with what we are as a band, you know? Since when did we sing songs about this sort of stuff?" 

Andy swallowed. He knew Jake had a point. They never really had written anything to do with what these new lyrics were about, but he was the lyricist and he was the one who had to sing them, and these were the words that felt right to him. But he just said, "Oh. Okay. Sorry." 

"I'm not saying they're bad, because they're not. Not at all. You're a genius at writing lyrics, but just...for our band, man, I don't know. These are so personal. Who's gonna relate to this stuff when it's about something that only happened to you in particular?" 

"Lots of people have been through abusive relationships, Jake," called Lonny from across the room. 

"No, I know. I know that." 

"I like them," Lonny went on. "I think it's good to have some songs that aren't about the same stuff as usual. People like it when we're vulnerable. I mean, look how well Saviour Two did." 

"Saviour Two was about them, that's why it did so well," Jake argued. 

Lonny shook his head. "No. It's about how Andy tries to be someone who our fans can look at as perfect and god-like when in reality, he's still just a human. It's a very personal song." 

"Yes, but it's not personal in a way that makes you cringe." 

"Cringe?" The bassist asked. "Lyrics about abuse make you cringe? Why?" 

"I don't mean cringe. I mean-look, all I'm saying is that do we really want to be including things about physical fucking abuse in songs that teenagers are gonna hear? isn't that just stupid?" 

Leaving his guitar, Lonny joined them, took the notebook from Jake, read the words on the page again. "I think this is exactly what we should be singing about," he said, and passed the book back to Andy. "You're very skilled at writing, I'm envious." He went to pat him on the shoulder as a form of reassurance but caught himself, withdrew his hand, offered a smile instead. 

Andy smiled weakly, holding the book almost protectively to his chest. In his head, he was already re-writing it to Jake's standards, replacing details of the pain Holden had put him through with the usual similes that could have a number of meanings. 

In the recording booth, he saw how Jake's expression brightened as he sang the new lyrics, could already feel that sense of pride he'd feel each time Holden praised of congratulated him, though couldn't work out why the feeling was so familiar. 

After the first layer of vocals was in place, Jake said to him, "I think that was much better than what you had down originally. Well done, man, you came up with that so quickly. Like I said, you're a lyrics genius, really. Good job." Then he slapped Andy on the back and the man jerked, held his breath, closed his eyes, steadied himself. 

"Thank you," he managed to say. "I'm sorry about before." 

"No, man, don't worry about it. We're all good." 

Andy nodded, had the strange need to cry but didn't quite know why. 

* * * 

Remington was stirring cake batter in a bowl when Andy let himself into the apartment with the key he had been given. "How was the studio?" He asked, turning to look at the elder. 

Standing somewhat rigid in the kitchen, Andy replied, "It was good. I'm glad to be back after everything." 

"Yeah." Licking a splash of batter from his hand, Remington said, "What did they think of your lyrics? The ones you showed me the other day?" 

Andy, dropping his gaze to the ground, shrugged. "I don't know. Fine, I suppose." 

"Fine?"  

He shrugged again. 

Remington picked up the bowl and started pouring the mixture into a baking tin. "Just fine? Did they read the same lyrics? I thought they were fucking heart breaking and the best I'd ever heard." 

"Yeah. Uh, I don't know. Just...Lonny liked them a lot." 

"Lonny's the bassist, right? He replaced that piece of shit who tried to break you guys up?" 

"Yeah. He's great. He's really turned us around as a band." 

Opening the oven, Remington carefully slid the tin in, kicking the door closed and wiping his hands on his thighs. "So, Lonny really liked them, but not the others? Do you want a cup of tea, by the way? I'm making some." 

"Oh. Yeah. Thank you." Andy played with his fingers. 

"So, what did the others say, if it's okay to ask?" 

"I don't know. Usually they don't really have much to say because it's just a thing for us that I always do the lyrics, and they've just accepted that. But Jake, he just - he didn't like them." 

"Oh?" 

"He wanted me to change them." 

Remington turned towards Andy. "Did you?" 

"Yeah." 

"Oh. Well, I suppose being in a band means you have to compromise. I'd fucking hate that." 

Andy tried to smile but he couldn't get the strange feeling from earlier out of his head. Having Jake talk to him like that was nothing new, but why did it make him want to cry this time? 

While Remington made the tea, they were both quiet, and as he handed the cup to Andy, he noticed the way he leaned back and hesitated before reaching his hand out for it. "You okay?" He asked, trying not to let his concern through. 

Andy blinked like he was somewhere else entirely. "Yes, thank you," he replied. "I'm good." 

Remington hummed. "Please, sit down, if you want. I'm baking a cake but it won't be ready for, like, twenty minutes, so..." He pulled out a dining chair and sat in it, and after a moment, Andy did the same with the seat beside him. "I can't wait to hear your new songs, whatever the lyrics are," he said. "You know I think you're one of the best vocalists of our time. I'd say the best, but I don't want Gerard Way to kill me." 

"Gerard Way is legendary," Andy agreed. "Thank you for the tea." 

"Sure. Anytime." 

Andy sipped it and thought again about Jake's expression as he had sung the changed lyrics.