Trigger Warning: Verbal/physical abuse, depression, self-harm/injury/suicide, anxiety

* * * 

Sometime in the night, Andy woke because the painkillers had worn off and his entire body was dully aching, not to mention the persisting headache that was making his eyes throb even when they were closed. Providing he'd kept his promise, Noah was still downstairs, and with hot, teary eyes, Andy squinted at his phone screen to send a text, asking for the ibuprofen. 

It felt unnatural to be asking for anything but he knew he had to at least try. Noah had told him it was okay to need help and that he could ask if needed something, and he'd kept all of his promises so Andy could only hope and pray that he'd continue to do that. 

Noah didn't knock on his bedroom door, instead speaking through it. He had seen how terrified the banging on the front door had made Andy and wasn't going to potentially cause a trauma response when he could avoid it. Andy had enough to be coping with without that. He said from outside the room, "Can I come in?" 

Andy replied that he could, moving himself to sit up in the bed as Noah entered. He watched him in the darkness. 

"I got you some more water," Noah said, putting the glass on the bedside table. "And ibuprofen. Do you need anything else?" 

Andy shook his head and it made him feel slightly sick. He supposed it was the headache. "Thanks," he mumbled. 

"That's okay. You're welcome. Did you get any sleep?" 

"Yeah." 

"Good, I'm glad. Do you want me go?" 

Andy reached for the water. "Can you stay?" He asked. 

"Of course." 

He sipped the water, then picked up the painkillers and swallowed them with another gulp. "Has he - did he come back?" 

"No, it's been very quiet." 

"Okay."

Noah sat on the windowsill. It was sometime past four in the morning and he had slept for a while on the couch. 

As usual, Andy was looking at him. He said quietly, "Sorry for wasting your time." 

"No, that's okay. You're not wasting my time at all."

"Oh. Okay." 

"I'm here as long as you need, okay?" 

"Okay. Thanks." 

"Sure. You're welcome. I'm sorry you're in so much pain, I can't imagine it's very easy to sleep like that. I hope the ibuprofen helps?" 

It felt rather strange to be validated like that. All he'd heard the past couple of years was how weak and pathetic he was being for not enjoying how much everything hurt, and now here was someone telling him it was okay. "It does," Andy replied. "Just...wears off." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry it woke you up when it did wear off. You said earlier you felt sick, is that still there?" 

Andy worried it might have been a trick question, had to reassure himself with the knowledge that Noah had not done anything bad to him yet. "Yeah." 

"I'm sorry. I hope that goes away soon." 

"You do?" 

"Of course. You don't deserve to be feeling like that at all." 

"Oh," Andy mumbled. 

"I'm sure you'll start to feel a little better soon, after lots of rest." 

"I don't wanna do it," Andy said quickly, as though Noah had just told him to. As though he had stood and demanded he got on his knees.

"No, no, no. You don't need to do it."

"But - you said - you said I'll feel better after - after rest, and - when I feel better, you're gonna - you'll..."

"No. No, never. I would never, ever do that. I'm sorry it came across like I would. I just mean, I hope you start feeling better because you deserve to feel better, for you. Not for me or anyone else, okay? You being better isn't going to ever be a reason for me to make you do anything." 

"But...he made me feel better when I - I tried to kill myself before so that - so I would - so I could do it. He didn't - he said I couldn't - couldn't die because then who - then who would he have, and - and what if - what if you'll do - what if that's why you're helping?"

"I'm so sorry, Andy. That's awful. You're so much more than just something for him to use, and I know how hard it is to believe me but I would never, ever make you do anything you didn't wanna do. I'm helping you because you deserve your life back. I'm not expecting anything in return."

Andy didn't know what to say. He had no reason not to believe Noah because Noah hadn't done anything to hurt him, but he also didn't know how he could separate his fear of Jude and the other men from Noah. It wasn't like Noah deserved to be feared because he'd done nothing to scare him, but he was a person and that meant he was just as capable as harm as everyone else. 

"Do you want to try and go back to sleep?" Noah asked. 

Andy shook his head. There was no use in trying until the painkillers had kicked in.

"That's okay." 

Saying nothing, Andy absently ran his fingers over the cuts on his arm. He appreciated that Noah didn't try to start conversation, glanced from his arm to his Noah frequently. Then, finally, he asked, "What do you do? Like, for - for work?" 

"Oh. I'm a music producer. I work with a lot of rock and metal artists. Some pop, too." 

Andy hadn't been expecting that, though didn't know what he was expecting. "That's cool," he said. "I love rock." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"What sort of bands do you like?" 

"Like...KISS, Alkaline Trio...Creeper. Uh...some Metallica. Also Billie Eilish sometimes. She's cool." 

"Oh, sick. I love Billie, she's super interesting. And I thought I saw an Alkaline Trio tattoo." 

"Yeah. I have a few." 

"That's awesome. And did I see the Batman logo, too?" 

"Oh. Yeah." 

"That's so cool. Batman is awesome." 

"You like it?" 

"Yeah, I love Batman." 

Andy looked down at his arm again, then back at Noah. "I did the voice for the Dark Nights Death Metal comic, actually." 

"No way, that's so cool! You've got the perfect voice for it, man. How did you get that opportunity?"

"I was - uh - I was in a band and it was a thing that everyone knew I loved Batman. And they had different musicians and stuff doing the voices. Because it's called Death Metal. So I just was asked." 

"I had no idea you were in band. What were you guys called?" 

"Oh. Black Veil Brides." 

"Sick name." 

"Thanks." 

"But you're not a band anymore?" 

Andy looked back at his arm, shook his head. "No. I mean...they are. Just...not me." 

"What did you do in the band? You sound like you'd have an insane singing voice."

"Yeah. I sung." 

"How come not anymore?" 

"Oh. Uh...I was - well, we were touring a lot, you know, and - and I was away from home too much, so - so I left." 

It didn't take a genius to know that the decision was not Andy's. Noah could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke about it. "How long ago was that?" 

"Two years. They got a new singer, he's pretty good." 

"When you say you were away from home too much? Was that your opinion?" 

Andy stared at him, couldn't work out if it was an accusation or not. "I don't know," he replied, even though he did know.

"Was it Jude's opinion?" Noah asked. "Sorry, I don't want to pry. You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to." 

"He just - he just missed me." 

Noah nodded. 

"Anyway, I was never..." Andy shrugged, trying to sound like he didn't care, like it didn't still burn his insides to think about. "I was never that good." 

"I'm sure that's not true. Maybe you could show me some of your songs sometime? I'd love to hear them." 

"You would?" 

"Yeah. Your speaking voice is super deep, I'd be so interested to know how you sound singing. I'm assuming it was rock?" 

"Yeah. Like...rock and metal. Some ballad-y stuff. I had a solo project for a while. Andy Black, it was called. That was, like, pop punk and radio rock." 

"Oh my goodness, you were so busy! That sounds amazing." 

"I really liked it," Andy said. He was notably more animated as he spoke about music, voice slightly more confident. "I don't know. Lots of people didn't. I was kind of hated for a while. Like, called a poser and all of that."

"That sucks." 

"Yeah. But, well, it doesn't matter now." 

"Of course it does. It's a part of you." 

"I guess." 

Noah wanted to ask more about it, wanted to figure out just what Jude had said to make him quit music. To make him abandon something that clearly he loved and was happy with. But he could see Andy was tired and he didn't want to overstep a boundary, so he said, "Do you want me to go back downstairs?" 

Andy yawned. The painkillers had kicked in finally. "Okay," he replied. "You'll stay in case he comes back?" 

"Of course. I'll be in the living room." 

"Okay. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. I hope you can get some more sleep. Let me know if you need anything."