Been crying over the situation in Palestine and Aaron Bushnell's self-immolation protest in front of the Isr*el Embassy, can't sleep so writing this instead.

Comments are always greatly appreciated, I love reading them <3

Trigger Warning: PTSD, depression, anxiety, sexual assault/abuse

* * *

It wasn't until after midday that Andy woke. Noah was glad he had managed to sleep for so long but knew he'd need more than just one night to start feeling better. He was sitting in the kitchen, which he'd spent the majority of the morning cleaning. The sink was empty and had been rinsed with antibacterial spray, the surfaces wiped and everything put away.

It was one of the first things Andy noticed when he stepped into the kitchen, alongside the fact that Noah was still there. Noah was drinking tea and scrolling on his phone, putting the device down when he noticed Andy lingering in the doorway. "Hey," he said with a smile. "Good to see you. I figured I'd stay until you were up, in case he came back. If you want me to to leave now, that's okay." 

Andy yawned. "I don't want you to, but - but if you do..." 

"No, not at all. I'm happy to be here as long as you need, okay? I made something for lunch, if you're hungry." 

Walking further into the room, Andy said, "You cleaned." 

"I did. Is that okay?" 

He nodded as he sat down, yawning again. "Thank you. You didn't - you didn't need to do that." 

"That's okay. I wanted to. Can I get you some food?" 

"Okay. Thanks." 

Noah stood, making a conscious effort to move without making any sudden movements that might startle Andy. There was a large pan of risotto on the hob which he'd made while cleaning, deliberately making a lot so that it would be there for Andy to heat up in the microwave the following couple of days. He put a plate down on the table for Andy and sat back down, explaining that he'd already had some. "Did you sleep okay?" He then asked. 

"I kept, like, waking up. I don't know why." 

"I'm sorry. That must be annoying." 

Andy nodded, said nothing for a few minutes while he ate. It was incredible how thoughtful Noah was being, and just the simple acts of being cooked for, being asked how he slept, made Andy want to either smile or cry, and he didn't quite know which. "Did you sleep okay?" He asked eventually. 

"I did." 

"That's good." 

"I wanted to ask about your music?" Noah said. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, though." 

"Oh." Andy was looking at him, as usual. "Okay. What did you wanna ask?" 

"I'd love to hear some, if that's okay with you. You could show me a couple of songs?" 

"You would?" 

"Of course. I'm intrigued, both as a music producer and a fan of rock music. And I'm so curious about how your singing voice sounds." 

"Oh. Okay. I can...I can show you some." 

"Yeah? Only if you want to."

"I do." 

Noah smiled. "You finish eating first. Can I get you anything else? Water? Tea?" 

"Tea?" 

"Sure thing." 

It wasn't until after Andy had eaten that he connected his phone to the speakers in the living room, sitting on one sofa while Noah sat on the other. He was for some reason very nervous to play his music for Noah. It wasn't like he thought it wasn't good - he was incredibly proud of all his music - but that usually, when it was brought up, it was with malice. And he hadn't listened to it in almost two years, found it upsetting because he was no longer in the band. 

"Do you like screaming?" He asked, Spotify open on his phone. "Like, screamo." 

"Love it." 

"Okay. Uh, this was the first one we did when I was a teenager." 

"What's it called?" 

"Oh. Knives and Pens. There's a video, but..." 

"We don't have to watch it, it's okay. Just show me what you're comfortable with." 

Andy nodded, pressing play on the song, could barely watch Noah's reaction as it played. He was dangerously close to crying at the sound of it, could still vividly remember how insanely proud he'd been of it back then. How he wanted his life to be spent in the band, and now he wasn't even in contact with any of the members anymore. 

Noah said nothing until it came to an end but was nodding his head to the beat. "Andy, that's phenomenal," he said. "Really. Your screams are insane and I'm thinking they got even better as you grew up?" 

Looking at his phone screen, Andy blinked. "Thank you," he mumbled, looking down at his phone screen and catching the image of the current BVB lineup on the Spotify page. Centre of he image, between Jake and Lonny, was a man Andy had never met. Shorter than Lonny, with blonde hair and a red line across his cheekbones and over his nose. Every time Andy saw a picture of him, he was struck by how much the singer looked like him. Not necessarily in his bone structure or anything, but more to do with how he presented himself. The clothes and makeup, even the hair. He looked at Noah again, half-expecting him to be glaring unhappily at him but was instead met by Noah's usual, soft expression.

"Do you want to do something else?" Noah asked. "I don't want to cause you any distress by playing your music. It's okay if you need to do something else instead." 

Andy's eyes flicked down at his phone screen. The replacement singer seemed to be smirking unkindly at him. Like, look, I'm you but better! He didn't know if Noah was being serious and hated that he was even doubting him at all. "I don't...I don't know," he mumbled. 

"That's okay." 

"Sorry." 

"No, you're good. How about I go change the covers on you bed, would that be okay?" 

Andy nodded. He hadn't changed his bedding in a good while. "Okay," he said quietly. "Thankyou." 

"No problem." 

Andy watched Noah leave the living room before turning his focus back his phone screen. He shut Spotify in favour of Instagram, searching for the BVB account and pressing on the first photo that included their singer. His name was Thomas. 

Andy scrolled through their posts. They had released a new album since he'd left. The Phantom Tomorrow. 

He scoffed at that because it was his creation. Then promptly burst into tears because it was his creation and they'd used it. The only mention he got was, 'this idea was born from our previous front-man, who gave his blessing for us to develop it.' Yes, he had done that. Biting back tears, he'd told them they could use it. Told them he wished the best for them. Told them all the bullshit Jude had forced him to recite. Got home afterwards, heartbroken after leaving his band, and the only comfort was Jude's fingers forcing his mouth open. 

He read through the comments, slowing his scrolling at one: 'Good album but not the same without Andy. He was the reason I got into you guys, everything since he left has been kind of disappointing. Wish you had come up with your own concept instead of using his when he could have done it sm better.' 

Now Andy was crying for three reasons: he'd been replaced by someone who was copying his ideas, his concept album had been used by someone that wasn't him, and he still had loyal fans who wanted him back. 

He continued to scroll despite everything being blurry through his tears. The further down he got, the more likes the posts had. They seemed to have lost over twenty thousand followers in the past year. Thomas had only 250k. Andy's abandoned account was still up and he'd gained a million followers since he'd last posted. There was over one hundred thousand comments on his last post, all telling him how much they missed him and wanted him back in the band, how sad they were without him.

Noah returned to the living room. Andy hadn't realised how long it had been until he heard Noah descending the stairs. He shut off his phone and wiped at his eyes as Noah asked if he wanted some water.

Andy shook his head. He didn't want water; he wanted his band.