In the Midnight Hour...

Last Night...
I kissed Andy Biersack behind the club our bands were celebrating in.

He did the reasonable thing and pushed me away, quickly apologizing for any mixed signals and explaining he wasn’t gay. He was nice enough to say he didn’t mind if I was, but I could see the tightness in his shoulders.

Last Night...
Andy and I were left alone, walking back to our buses. He tried to shrug off the other day, and made a point to treat me the same he would Jake or Ashley, but I wasn’t blind to the mild change in his demeanor. He was acting different. It wasn’t a dramatic shift in his personality, but something was off with him. I, unfortunately, couldn’t tell if it was just around me or not. I assumed so anyway.

We just talked about normal things, though. Relationships were carefully avoided, and we simply discussed the tour and our lives before this. How we started and where we wanted to go. Normal things. Things you’d expect. But he was different...somehow.

Last Night...
I watched them perform as the last show of the day. I tried to hide my infatuation, but everyone seemed to instantly know when I became attracted to someone. I wanted no more than to just shrug it off myself and do what I always thought I did, which was admire from afar and hang out as a friend.

I wasn’t sure how I always gave myself away. Did I act different around them? How do I never notice myself? Do I talk differently? I may stutter more, or I may seem more inclined to be as nice and flattering as possible. How do I never see what I do? Does he?

Last Night...
Andy really was acting different. Jinxx confronted me about it, something about us spending so much time together that I might know. I didn’t realize we were hanging out so much. I guess I’m the oblivious type if everyone else sees things I never do. I can catch things like that when observing someone else, but I have no idea about myself. Maybe I just don’t understand myself enough like I understand the workings of other people. That probably sounded impossible, but I rarely believe I operate with the same deck others do. I definitely see things differently than Andy.

Maybe we were spending a lot of time together. I just brushed it off since it was Warped Tour, it’s hard not being around other bands when the only other people around you are fans. Maybe it made sense in my mind, whereas it was just nonsense to others. Andy clearly didn’t realize it either, though, or he would’ve been trying to distance our time together. Right?

Last Night...
Andy did something strange.

He came up to me when I was alone on my bus, and sat down to talk with me a little while. He was kind of fidgety the whole time, clearly inebriated, but sentient about what he was doing. A drunk man isn’t shy.

He was bothered by something.

That’s when the “strange” part happened. He started talking about the time I kissed him. He told me he hadn’t been able to sleep right since, unable to stop thinking about...me. It was a dumbfounding experience for me, personally. I’d never had someone confess their love for me before, nor had I ever expected someone to.

Then, he asked if he could kiss me again. I blushed and stared at him like a fool. I expected to be stuttering in that moment, but I couldn’t get any words out of my mouth. I just stared at him in shock. My mind wasn’t prepared to answer such a question.

I could see he was about to lose his nerve and just apologize for being drunk, so I just blurted out “yes” before even I could do anything else. That was because the obvious part of me really wanted to kiss him...obviously.

Opportunities like this were always hard for me, but I knew I wanted them, so I just kind of closed my eyes and jumped before I got to three. I couldn’t give myself the chance to second-guess it or I’d lose that opportunity for good.

Well...we kissed alright. We also did a lot more. It started so innocent too...

It also started the way it usually was with my first and last boyfriend - I was the bottom, he was the top. It wasn’t like I never topped, he was a nice guy who was open to letting me be more than just the submissive lover, but he was clearly more comfortable being the dominant one. I suspected the same of Andy, who was supposed to be straight, but that wasn’t how it worked out.

It might have just been something he was told or something in his mind that was telling him to not go all “me man, you woman” on me, but it was still obvious he was more of the “seme” type. I have to admit, though, he was a cute bottom...if a little (delightfully) awkward.

Last Night...
Andy did something else crazy.

The air around him seemed to have changed since that night. He seemed...lighter. Happier. Maybe more reassured, more adjusted. I won’t lie, I felt very similarly. I think the guys noticed, too, but this time no one said anything about it.

Andy came up to me while we were setting up our stage (the lesser Kia Soul Stage) and told me right in front of my band that he wanted to be my boyfriend and was completely okay with it. Also, he said to, and I quote, “Fuck anyone who isn’t!”

It made me so happy when he kissed me right then and there, not giving a shit who saw. I had a boyfriend. One I felt I could trust like I used to trust Noah.

Someone I could truly love again.

Last Night...
Andy told the world we were together. I don’t know what he was thinking, but now the fans are torn between believing it’s a joke and asking us over and over again for the confirmation of their dreams.

When I asked him about it, he just smirked at me and kissed my cheek. He was either so evil he was innocent, or he was so innocent he was evil. I couldn’t tell which.

Last Night...
Andy and I made love the way I originally expected - me on the bottom. He was just too good, he had my toes curling in no time. I wasn’t sure where he learned to please me like that, but damn if he wasn’t good at it. I could sense he felt more in his element, too. He was definitely more of a top than a bottom. A straight man will almost always be more comfortable in the dominant role.

All I can think about is how...um, “aesthetically pleasing” he looked hovering over me with his hair all tousled. Of course, he’s always been...”aesthetically pleasing” to me. He was a great-looking guy. I simply adored his eyes myself. My blue eyed angel...mine...

I liked that. Mine. And I was his.

Last Night...
Andy told me something else “crazy.”

We’d found that with the end of the tour looming, we were starting to get more...anxious. This anxiety projected in the form of lots of hot sex on our tour buses.

There were so many more places we could’ve done it, too, but Andy would always refuse, curiously enough. I only recently found out why.

I’m always in such a rush to get him off for whatever reason. I think I was always like that, though. I feel some personal obligation to satisfy the other person, maybe out of my own fear of inadequacy. I was a lot shorter than Andy, than even Noah, and my size didn’t compare to theirs as easily, either. So, I guess I’m also the “quick” type when it comes to being staked atop my lover like a shish-ka-bob.

Andy always managed to seem so calm, even during sex and it drove me crazy sometimes. I could never be that relaxed, I was too uptight. He always tried to ease me into a similar state, only for me to rebuff his efforts after a little while. It was hard to keep a spring from coiling once its been coiled.

This time was different, though. He reached up, taking my face in his hand and he told me to go slow. That we didn’t “fuck”, we “made love.” That I liked it better that way and he knew it.

It amazed me how quickly he figured me out. Might have even scared me a bit as a person who strived to be a wallflower, strived to have impenetrable walls. I didn’t like having other people in my head, yet I found some sense of security in his innate knowledge of my unspoken motives, tastes, ect.. I also blushed so red at that moment I couldn’t even respond to him.

He just let his hand fall and waited with the patience of eternity.

Last Night...
It was the last day of the tour...

I was so anxious, I was shaking and I couldn’t sleep. I knew it was the end of all the times we had together, and our relationship would officially become long distance. It hurt knowing I wouldn’t be able to just walk five feet to their bus and talk to him about...anything really. I wouldn’t just have him there whenever I needed him. He wouldn’t be there to hold me anymore...

I stared so long at my pocket knife that night, and I thought about it, I did. I didn’t do it, thankfully, I felt guilty before I even picked up the knife, but I still thought about it. It took so much to not do it, too, and we weren’t even separated yet. I didn’t think I could handle being away from him for five months after. I didn’t want to seem dependent on him, though so, I didn’t say anything.

I knew he sensed it. I was hurting but he was, too, and he just knew. He always knew. Then again, I’m such a transparent person, apparently...

The first thing he did when he saw me that day was wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. I couldn’t take it. I held onto to him like my life depended on it and burst into tears. I could hear the only two of my band that was on the bus with me at the time leave, reasonably. I wouldn’t want to interfere with whatever “couple business” they were dealing with either. I was actually thankful to them for leaving us alone.

Andy eventually led me back to my...well...my mattress since we only had two bunks that no one used. We just tossed four mattresses in the back and slept there like we were camping out somewhere.

That was when he saw the knife. I didn’t actually see him notice it, but I felt all the muscles in his chest and shoulders grow taught as his steps buffered a moment.

That whole time he just held me and whispered the sweetest things to me. It was in a tone I’d never heard from him, though. It wasn’t in the normal confidence everyone is used to hearing. I could also tell his hands were shaking, but he was trying hard to control them. Eventually, he took a deep breath and told me he loved me. That he’d never felt this way about anyone before, never felt the type of dedication to go so far as to cross his own boundaries for me. He told me that it was okay, and that I meant more to him than I knew.

He soon gazed at the knife, and he told me he wasn’t afraid of a lot of things but that scared him. It was hard for me to hear him admit since I’d only seen him as this godly, unwavering person that had become my rock. Andy wasn’t supposed to be afraid of things, but I did/had something that scared him. It changed my view of him into someone more...human. He was human. He was like me, he hurt and he laughed and he loved like me. He wasn’t this god, but I couldn’t help myself from having trouble releasing the stigma that he was perfect. Because even his flaws were perfect to me. I may have just felt so imperfect that he really was god in my mind. He really was so different from me.

Admitting he was afraid of me doing something made me realize he needed me as much as I needed him.

I watched him quickly wipe a stray tear from his face, and I kissed his cheek. My last words to him were, “I love you, too.”

Last Night...
I took my knife and a piece of paper. I wrote a simple message on the clean sheet before folding it and tucking the knife into the crease.



I never knew what he did exactly. It wasn’t my place to ask. It was an unspoken promise I was intent on keeping whether I knew he accepted the conditions or not. I was told via his band mates that he kept the knife in his pocket, but I never found out he carried that note with him, too.