Sorrowed Souls [Andy Biersack x Reader]

Releasal

"So." Your dad crossed his arms, and for a moment you chose not to notice the vein on his neck. He was really pissed, for sure.

"Sweetheart," your mother cooed, "are you okay?"

Finally they were asking the right questions, but then your mom kept talking.

"I know, there's these drugs, with a lot of these 'rock star' types. Are you—"

"Doing cocaine?" you parroted. "No, Mom. Andy's not like that."

Your mind briefly shot back to an aquarium, seeing that smoke blow to the curved ceiling, sharks and all.

You kept your mouth shut—cocaine and nicotine were two different things.

So, you held your ground. Through all the questions, all the accusations, disguised with worry.

They were your parents, your protectors, your guardians. Now was not the time for them to finally act like it.

Your phone buzzed, halfway through your father's lecture about staying safe at "those rowdy, sketchy festivals". You internally rolled your eyes—like he knew anything about Warped.

Just as you thought of her, your phone buzzed with a ringtone.

Put your hands in the air if you think you're a player.

Biiggg Papa...

Your lips twitched upwards in a smile, and like the hawk he was, your father leaned forward, peering just as your mother did.

"Something funny?"

Your smile immediately fell, heart breaking on the floor of your chest.

"N-no,"—and another, softer tone played. Andy—"It's just—lemme check—"

"And here is the culprit!" Your father—in all his glory—snatched the phone from your hand. "The device that started it all. Your cell phone!"

You stood, mouth agape, soul open until words finally found a place in your brain.

"You... you went through my stuff?"

Before your father could get angrier (if that was even possible), you channeled something deep within.

"What. The FUCK?"

Sounds from both sides—two gasps in front, and another noise behind the door.

Was that

Was that a giggle?

"Shut up or I will murder you," you growled to the door.

You could almost see your bestie clap a hand to her mouth, two fingers twisted in a promise.

When you turned back, your father was scrolling through your messages.

"Are you looking at my texts?"

"I was," he replied. And then the phone turned, revealing the snapshot, the first photo you had taken at Warped. A selfie with Andy in the BVB tour bus.

Him stooped down, smile matching yours. And for a moment, you saw your own self-consciousness. How your lips stayed together, nothing like Andy's wide, carefree grin.

"Where was this taken?"

Liquid brushed your eyes.

You were crying yet again, but this time you were crying because of the pressure forced against you.

An interrogation. A long-term sentence of exposure.

With fingers snapping, your father claimed your attention.