Kidnapped by my Heroes *Bands Fanfiction*

Not the Same

"Wake up." I hear Andy say in a gentle tone. I open my eyes and look at him. He managed to put pants on. Congratulations. Why did he have to wake me? I was sleeping so good! I groan and sit up. He rolls his eyes and gets up and walks out. I stumble over to the dresser and pull out some sweats and a sweater. I wasn't in the mood for looking good. I was in the mood for sitting in the corner and drinking hot chocolate. Yeah. That sounds good. I smile a little. That was pretty much all I did when I first got to my foster parents house. It became my comfort object.. That and the stuffed bear that my mom always left me with my notes in the morning. I squeese my eyes shut. Why was I suddenly remembering these things. This flashbacks weren't bringing me happiness or anything like you might think; they made me feel worse. I take a deep breath and trudge down the stairs. I smell food and walk into the kitchen. Andy had eggs on a burner turned to high and was attempting to put bacon in the microwave.
"Just stop. You can't cook." I said as I walked over to the stove, turned the flame down to low and pushed the pre-heat button on the stove to 350 degrees. I sigh. "Breakfast in exchange for coffee?" It was supposed to just stay a thought, but judging by the bags under my eyes I can only assume coffee would be a really good thing right now.
I finished cooking, after having to get rid of the eggs Andy charred on high heat. He gave me my coffee and I drank it black, caring less if that wasn't how I liked it or not. I was tired and there were apperantly only occasions that I got things that I wanted like coffee so there was no way I was going to complain. I set the table with the two plates with eggs, properly cooked bacon, and toast on them. "Was it really that bad?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck like he knew it was but didn't want to hear that. "Your eggs were charred and microwave bacon tastes like rubber." He rolled his eyes.
"Well at least someone knows how to cook because I guess I don't." I shrugged. "You could probably google it if you were that interested in attempting to cook." He sighed.
"Yeah.."
There was silence again for a little bit. Neither of us spoke and all there was to hear was the cars outside and the light, high pitched sounds of our forks clanging against the plates. I bit my lip and took another drink of my coffee. It was getting cold.. I sighed. When we both finished I took our plates and took them to the sink. "Thanks..." I heard him mumble before walking into the living room. I shrug it off and follow him. He sits on the couch and leans his head back against the top of it and sighs. He must be just as tired as I am. . . I sigh. "Wanna talk about that dream now?" He offers. I wish I could talk about it. But I don't really know if I want to. I'd end up crying in front of him and then well that would get neither of us anywhere.
"I don't know."
"Ok..." I'm assuming he didn't really know what to say to that because he just kind of awkwardly sat there.
"I guess." I said after a few minutes and he looked at me confused before something must have clicked and he smiled slightly. He patted the spot beside him with his hand and I got up from my spot on the floor and sat beside him. I told him all about it. My friends that turned on me, my parents, how the concert was supposed to be a good thing.. I ended up crying just as hard as I always did when I tried talking about it to anyone and he hugged me. "It'll be ok..."
"How will it be ok? Maybe I could say that if I was normal." He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again. . . I think he knew what I meant by that. It was true. It was his fault that I wasn't normal and because of that no matter how much he said would it be okay just like everyone everyone else did, it never would be. He just couldn't understand that. He never would. He wasn't the kidnapped, he was the kidnapper.
No matter what he said and no matter how nice he was to me he and I would never be the same.
Ever. Ever.