The World Will Stain Us

The Accident

They'd been approached about recording a song to go on the Avengers soundtrack, which they'd enthusiastically agreed to; the Marvel Cinematic Universe was already becoming a huge thing, and getting a song onto the soundtrack of the upcoming movie would be a great opportunity for them. They worked with Sean to get the song recorded and sent in; it would come out with the rest of the soundtrack in May, but Andy was quite proud of it, and he knew his boyfriends were too.

Sean appeared to be trying to steer them in a direction similar to what they'd done with Set The World On Fire, which Andy wasn't exactly a fan of. He liked the human producer just fine, and respected him greatly, but he was tired of the whole Sunset-Strip-eighties-hair-metal vibe that had gone awry from what he'd originally intended the message of this band to be. What he was trying to do didn't fit the story, and it didn't fit what Andy had imagined their next steps would be either. The problem was, Andy himself didn't know what that evolutionary style should be, and therefore couldn't direct any changes.

And then Andy met John Feldmann.

He'd heard the A-list producer was looking to work with him, and excitedly talked over the concept with his boyfriends. "This could be a really big opportunity, if his ideas work better for what I have in mind," he said. "If I can figure out what I have in mind."

Jake smiled and kissed him lightly. "Then go meet with him and we'll see what happens."

So here Andy was, in significantly less warpaint than usual (he'd started putting on less and less, and they weren't even touring yet this year), meeting with the legendary producer and Goldfinger frontman at the human's house to talk.

His social anxiety wasn't making this easy. He already didn't like talking to people he didn't know, but John Feldmann was a legend―which meant his nerves were that much more heightened.

"Hey!" he greeted warmly when Andy knocked on the door. "Andy Biersack, right?"

Andy nodded. Feldmann stood back to let him in. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home."

Andy stepped over the threshold, almost feeling the ancient magic that dictated that a vampire couldn't enter an unfamiliar dwelling without permission pass over him in a wave as he did so. He'd never understood that rule―probably put in place by paranoid humans, or maybe a warlock trying to mitigate supernatural influences on the mortal world. Regardless, it had made crashing the VMA's last year difficult―though not impossible―and it was why they always made sure to secure invitations to parties and such. The whole rule seemed rather stupid―if the person doing the inviting was unaware that whoever they were talking to was a vampire, they were still potentially in danger. But then, maybe Andy was just cynical.

"I must say," Feldmann said as he led the way into his living room, "I'm a fan of your work, Mr. Biersack. You and your band have certainly taken the world by storm."

Andy, uncomfortable at being addressed as "Mr. Biersack," said nothing, merely took in the living room as he sat down in the armchair Feldmann gestured to. It was grand in an understated sort of way―you could tell Feldmann had money to spare, but it was modest enough that it didn't feel overly intimidating. The armchair was surprisingly comfortable and matched the couch Feldmann took a seat on; a few paintings were hung on the walls, as well as a collection of what looked like family photos and a couple of pictures of Goldfinger. A dark blue rug shot through with gold and black thread rested under the coffee table, and a fireplace took up part of one wall. Andy could tell the producer spent a lot of time at home; the room had a lived-in feel to it that served to relax him a little. Whatever came of this meeting, John Feldmann was not an enemy.

Feldmann tilted his head. "Why so quiet?"

"Anxiety," Andy managed to say, all but forcing his voice to work. "Severe social anxiety."