The Memory Playlist

Otherside

Niki.

I bite my lip as I open my Twitter app. I was notified of Andy mentioning me in a Tweet.

"Happy Valentines Day to my love @xnikisikkx I miss you more everyday and I can't wait to see you at the end of this month <3"

I smile and reply with several heart emojis. Then I compose my own Tweet.

"Spending Valentines day without my love, but he's in my head and heart. I love and miss you to the moon and back <3 @andybvb" I attach a picture of us kissing, the first one we ever took together backstage. I then send my first text of the day to Andy.

"Andy, I love you so much. And I miss you a lot. And you're my favorite person in the world."

As I wait for a reply, I turn over in bed and look out at the skyline. I woke up earlier today, as I usually do, but at six in the morning the sun has just started to rise, and as I look out towards the balcony I smile at the orange glow. I grab my cigarettes and lighter and walk out.

I don't think there's anything better than mornings in Los Angeles. It's before the heat of the day comes, the view along the skyline is the most amazing thing, and smoking a cigarette makes it even better. There's already cars driving through the city and I can hear someone playing their music a little loudly in the neighborhood across from ours. This is my favorite city in the world.

I hear my phone ring from inside, so I walk back into the room. I've received a text from Andy.

"Baby Doll your tweet made my heart soar. I miss you so much."

I put my cigarette out and smile. I roll onto the bed to start texting him, which I waste my entire day doing.

My heart is racing as I sign into my Skype account on Andy's computer in the music room. Tonight is the first time Andy and I are Skyping because he's in a hotel room by himself and is going to take advantage of it. My fingernails tap against the glass table as I wait for it to log in.

My pulse skips a beat when I see his name already online. I instantly move my mouse over his name and press call. It rings in my earbuds once... twice... three times...

"Caught me early, baby," Andy says, holding his phone above his head. He has his headphones plugged in too. He looks at something other than the camera and ruffles his hair, and I see that he's shirtless. I'm at a loss for words as I take him in, as pictures from the stage and occasional selifes don't do him justice. At my silence, he looks back at the phone. He takes a deep breath in and says, "Baby Doll, you look fuckin' gorgeous tonight."

I feign casualty, pretending that I didn't spend what felt like hours on perfecting the wings of my eyeliner or picking what I should wear, which happened to be a regular pair of black skinnies and a graphic tank top that showed a decent amount of cleavage that would leave his mind to imagine more. "This is just what I was wearing earlier," I lie, knowing it's silly but silently appreciating the effort I put in.

"I don't think you understand what you do to me," Andy says as he walks out of presumably the bathroom. I watch as he walks to the bed and sets his phone down as he lays stomach down on the bed. He rests his phone against the pillows or the headboard, reaches over to the nightstand, moves his phone again, then pulls his hand back with cigarettes and his lighter. I watch as he lights one, and when he's finally done he leans against his arm, which is straight up and holding his cigarette. "Mm, let me look at you," he says, his voice gravelly. His eyes flicker over the entire screen, and he sighs. "Niki, baby, I miss you," he says, taking a drag.

"I miss you too," I say, holding my torso below the camera's view. "How's tour going?"

Andy begins a few anecdotes from tour, such as Jinxx's birthday and how the day after the album was released everyone knew the lyrics and how his interview with Bryan Stars, which was funny as hell, was so fun to make. His tone is always light-hearted and he's always smiling or laughing, and I always smile at his smile because of how perfect it is. After a while, he asks, "How's not touring going?"

I laugh and cross my legs. "Well, I saw Attila yesterday, and that was pretty fucking rad. Uh, tomorrow we're shooting the video for 'Otherside' so that'll be cool. Still haven't been able to sleep well."

"Mm, me neither," he says. "I have to hold a pillow sometimes."

"Me too," I say quietly, understanding exactly what he means. With his few remaining shirts, I've been putting them over his pillow and using that as I'd use his chest.

"Only another month, honey," he says, taking another drag. "And I get to see you right in the middle, so it's actually only about two and a half weeks. Then I get to see you and hold you and kiss you." He stops short at what usually follows, but I see in his eyes that he refrained himself from saying that. With slight hesitance, he murmurs, "And fuck you."

Although I knew it was coming, his words send a pulse of electricity straight through my body and all the way down to my legs. I swallow hard, glancing away from the screen and say, "Yeah, I kinda' miss that."

"Why are you acting so shy today, hmm?" he asks, his voice getting slightly more gravelly.

"Shy?" I ask. "This is the first time you've even mentioned something like this today."

"Whenever I take a drag you look away," he says, pulling the cigarette back to his mouth.

I force myself to look. "I didn't just now," I say, although watching the toxic wisps of gray escape his mouth makes me long for a cigarette and for his lips.

"Baby Doll," he coos. "I saw you staring at my chest. Your eyes flicker back to it every once in a while."

I swallow hard. "And? I mean you're shirtless. I like seeing you shirtless."

"I like seeing you shirtless too," he says slowly, his eyes quickly glancing down and back up to my eyes. He clears his throat.

To get back at him for exploiting my nervousness, I lean down on my crossed leg, exposing a little more cleavage. He visibly swallows and tries to keep his eyes with mine. "I bet you do," I say.

"Don't tease me like this, Baby Doll," he whines. He reaches over and puts out his cigarette, blowing the last puff of smoke out as he does. I bite my lip. He notices as he looks back and says, "It's weird how seeing me smoke turns you on."

"Well, not everyone does it quite like you do," I say. "And everything about you turns me on. You just turn me on."

"Mm, good," he murmurs, resting his chin against his bent arms. He looks so cute like that- so young and carefree. He shakes out his hair again as I get ready for a screen shot, and when he looks back at his phone I do. He apparently hears the click and asks, "What was that?"

"Nothing," I say, smiling playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You took a snap shot of me, didn't you?" He groans. "You suck."

"You love it when I do," I remind him, my playful smile still stretched on my face.

He raises a brow as he laughs, which is so cute. "Let's stop talking about sex," he says. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you."

"I'm sure I have an idea," I laugh, but I play it off and we drop the subject.

For the next three hours, we talk. Simply just talk like we used to in bed. We talk about tour and lame jokes and how to properly eat a Meximelt from Taco Bell and how the stars look when you're by yourself and how being stuck in a tin can fill of testosterone makes you angrier with everyone and how estrogen always seems to fix things. We talk about how peanut butter and jellies are supposed to properly be made, how to cook dinner when you're a hopeless cook, which ice cream flavor is the best, what music is supposed to be, and how long a man needs to be away from his girl and how much it needs to be shortened. And although we talk every day, having this tonight is so fulfilling.

We're both yawning when we stop talking. I glance at the time and see that, for me, it's 11:11 pm. "Make a wish," I say. "It's 11:11."

"My 11:11 already passed, Niki," he says.

"Then make my wish for me," I say. "The last few times I wished for something it didn't come true."

He sighs through his nose and looks up at me from his arm. "I wish my girl's wish would come true."

I smile sadly. "My wish won't come true. In fact, quite the opposite. Time just seems slower now."

He takes a moment to ponder my words and sighs. When I yawn again, he says, "Baby, why don't you go to bed? I can tell you're tired. It's late over there."

I laugh. "It's later over there."

"But you're bed time is different than mine," he says. "C'mon, go to bed."

I sigh. "But then I would have to stop talking to you."

He just shakes his head. "Niki," he murmurs, the sound reverberating in my headphones.

"Andy," I reply.

He gives me this soft look, and it's now that he opens his door. "I really miss you," he says quietly.

"I miss you too," I say, and once again I hold torso together. The way he's looking at me is making my bones feel like jelly.

This tour is dragging by slower than I anticipated. I knew it would feel slow, but it gets harder waking up without Andy every day. His pillow only works for so long.

"I told you it'd be tough," he states roughly, clearing his throat and looking away for a moment. "I feel like I've been on a drug. These two months have been withdrawals. Every text or call or Skype session is like dangling the drug in my face and not letting me get hooked again."

"I'm not sure being a drug is a good thing," I tease.

"Sure it is," he says. "You do me no harm, physically. None mentally. In fact, you help both of those. Being with you is a high more exhilarating than what I'd imagine heroin or meth would do. I guess the only side effect is being so addicted. I can't have and haven't had you and I still want you."

"Andy," I mumble.

"Baby Doll, I need you," he continues. "I'm seeing you at the end of this month and I still can't get the idea of leaving right now out of my head."

I shake my head and look down, my hair hiding my face as I bite my lip to keep back a sob. I want that more than anything too. I'd do anything to have him here right now so he could hold me and I could kiss him and just know he's here.

"Just say the word and I'll come," he whispers.

I look up and wipe my eyes. "No, Andy," I say, trying to sound firm but failing. "I miss you more than the moon misses Alaska in the summertime but you have a career out there," I say. "You have fans who need to see you almost as much as I do. I can't take you from them, nor can I take you from that. It's all you've ever wanted."

Andy rolls over and onto his back so I can only see the outlines of his face. "Don't cry, Niki. I hate seeing it," he mutters, his teeth clenched. He throws his arm over his eyes, something he does every time he gets emotional in any way, and I can see the faint outline of his old "Dragonfly" tattoo. He's had sittings to get it removed, hating the way it makes him feel, and only a nearly transparent gray outline remains. I wait a moment until he's composed himself.

"I don't understand," he breathes. "No girl has ever made me feel the way you do. I don't even know how to fucking tell you how that feels."

There's silence for a few moments as we let that sink in. I don't know how to respond to that. I've never felt the same before either, but I've only been in love once before this. Are there different kinds? What does that mean?

He rolls over again, giving me another soft look. "I don't know what you do to me, Niki," he murmurs.

I shrug. "I don't know what I'm doing to you either."

He looks at me for a moment before laughing. He starts to say something but gets cut off by a door slamming shut and other voices. He looks behind him and looks at the commotion behind him before returning to me. "Hey, CC came back." I hear a woman giggling and I can assume what that means. I guess he and April aren't super serious. "He said he'd give me the room for a few hours if I did the same for him. I'm gonna' go hang out with Jesse and a couple other dudes for a while."

I nod and shake my hair out, straightening in the chair. "Okay. Have fun and be safe."

"Always," he assures. "I love you, Baby Doll."

"And I love you, Fiend," I return.

He gives me that all-of-his-teeth smile that makes me feel like I'm above the stratosphere. "Bye, honey," he says.

"Bye." I smile back at him and blow a kiss before ending the call.

With a heavy heart, I shut the computer off and make my way upstairs. I make sure the lights are off and the doors are locked before retiring to bed, the faintest wisps of his cologne on his pillow having to make do for another night.

I wake up slowly, early, since I've been sleeping less and less lately. When my eyes open I see that the sun is telling me five thirty or earlier, which is pretty fucking early when I'm not doing anything until noon.

I yawn as I grab my pack of cigarettes, my lighter, and my phone, which is still resting against the lamp. I giggle as I recall last night and walk out to the balcony. I light a cigarette and set the pack on the wall of the balcony before turning on the screen to my phone. A quick glance tells me it's five forty-three, but what's surprising is the hundreds of Tweets I get from our fans. I unlock my phone and go to Twitter. What's this madness?

Tweets are angry and mostly in caps upon my notifications page. There's thousands of people screaming about some girl and Andy and me in virtual typos. I finally pick one and click on it.

"What the fuck @AndyBVB? @xNikiSikkx not good enough for you? Fuckin' pig!"

What?

I find another Tweet as my heart drops into my stomach, where the acid slowly begins to eat it up. Oh no...

"Maybe @AndyBVB finally realized that @xNikiSikkx isn't good enough for him. Not that the whore he got was any better."

What's going on?

With shaky hands, I find one more, but this one has a picture.

"@xNikiSikkx Explanation? Whatever's going on, know that us fans are here for you always <3" I hover over the link for a minute before tapping on it.

The stomach acid that had eaten my heart starts eating at the lining to stomach to begin the destruction of my entire body.

The picture is of a girl, wearing a smug smile and not much else, laying next to a shirtless, sleeping Andy. If that isn't bad enough, there's two hickeys on his left collarbone.

I nearly drop my phone off of the balcony as my vision blurs with tears and my hands become overwhelmingly and uncontrollably shaky.

Andy cheated on me. He cheated on me last night when... When could he have done this? When could this have happened? I look back at the picture, looking for any indications that this happened earlier in his life. I look at him and the way he looks, but I know it's recent. The sleeve he just had finished is done, as is the hair cut he left with, and the right side of his chest has my Baby Doll image.

I sob again as I set the phone down. This is recent. There's no way that the photo could be photoshopped. It was so realistic. Seamless. And you can't put a hickey on someone with that technology. She was there, smirking because she knew that she left a mark on a rockstar, someone who didn't care about the people he used.

The hurt in my chest was trying to boil with anger but kept being cooled by the icy sorrow that he even considered doing this to me. I'm mad at him, sure, but how can I possibly be more mad when all I know for sure is that he was too careless in his adultery to tell her not to mark him? He didn't even care enough to keep it a secret!

Because I'm clearly masochistic I look at the screen again. Her smugness and his obliviousness is gut-wrenching and I almost wish that he had kept it a secret just so I wouldn't have to feel like this. But as I look at the screen I notice an at name. It's generic, something about being a BVB whore with "x"s and numbers, but it fills me with a sudden determination to find this girl and see what she actually wrote. I wipe my eyes as I look up her username. I find it instantly and tap on it.

The first several Tweets are of her replying to people with happy face emojis, regardless of the mean intent. I finally get far enough down to find a picture linked to Instagram, so I tap the link and pull it up in the app. It loads to be the same picture, but I read the caption.

"Fun night with @AndyBVB last night. Definitely the best I've EVER had. Such a big c*ck <3"

Who writes stuff like this? Although the hickey is in evidence it's clear that she's lying because I was talking to Andy all night last night, and any groupie will say the band member is the best or the biggest, but how do I explain the hickey? Ugh, I want answers but I don't want to talk to Andy.

I really don't want to talk to Andy. I just know that he's going to write it off, that he'll say it was a mistake or that he was drunk after going back to the hotel, and he'll apologize and wrap me up in his words and I'll forgive him. I don't want to forgive him. I want him to leave me alone right now.

I walk back inside and curl up on the bed, tears still streaming down my face, and try to think. My phone keeps going off so I shut it off and forget about it on my nightstand. I don't want Andy talking to me, I don't want to talk to Andy, and I certainly don't want to talk to everyone who's screaming in my head. I want everything to go away.

What am I going to do?

Not talk to Andy. I don't think I could handle hearing his excuse or apology or... neither of those... right now.

I can't address the fans. What am I supposed to say? "Hey, guys, Andy got a hickey and now our relationship is about to fail! Thanks for the support though!"?

God, that hickey. I'm the only one that leaves hickey on his collar bones. Those are mine and mine only. It's the only place I mark him because it's the one part of his body that is mine, regardless of whose body it's on. He doesn't mind them either... But he just let some girl stain my collar bones?

I turn into my pillow and cry for a moment, just reflecting on his carelessness.

I wonder if the girls know. If they do, I don't want to talk to them about it. It's none of their business who I should and shouldn't date. And I know what their responses would be. They'd all tell me to hear him out, get the story, and forgive him if he was honest. I don't want to forgive him. He didn't even care enough about my emotional stability to keep it a secret.

The morning drags on as I go through the motions in a permanent state of mental self-arguing. I either get mad and pumped for the energy of "Otherside" video today, or I burst into tears and want to curl up in the closet and cancel the whole thing. It's cruel and sick and I hate feeling that way.

At noon, I roll up to the studio. I've chain-smoked most of my cigarettes, but I light one up anyway as I walk in. My throat aches and I feel like my tongue is burnt, but I keep going.

"Niki, what's up?" Riot asks when she sees me. She hugs me, but I only half-heartedly hug back. She instantly notices what's wrong. "Something up?"

"No," I mutter. I walk away and find Pat, as in Patrick Fogarty the director of BVB's music videos, and ask where I should be, and he tells me just to hang out until we're ready. I already did my make-up and I'm wearing just a pair of skinny jeans and a cut up, backless black tank top. Most of this video is the band performing in front of the cameras, but there will be solo shots of all of us.

The first shot we do is the entire band performing the song, so I just act like I'm on stage with less movement. I'm emotional already because of what this song is to me but adding on the drama centered around Andy makes it even harder to focus. I channel that more towards aggression, but I still feel like I look more angst-y in other shots. When I do my solo part, I'm even more emotional having no aggression left, and when I'm done filming I can't help but tear away to the makeshift dressing room of the building. I need to be alone.

Today is going to be the day of my ruin. Everything I do makes me think about him, when all I want to do is forget. I can't even do a music video, where the song has nothing to do with him.

How did this happen? Last night it was words of coming home early and not knowing how to describe the feelings of love we had and today it's heartbreak and betrayal. How could he do this to me? I know he said he needed me, but was the need so much that he used something, or rather someone, else to try to satiate that?

"Niki?" Riot is at the door, knocking. "Hey, Andy's on the phone. He said you won't pick up?" I sniffle, trying to compose myself. "Are you okay? Niki, let me in."

I wipe at my tears. I open the door frustratedly and grab her phone from her hand. I have no clue what to say but when I pull it to my ear I let my current emotion out through my mouth. "You have no idea what you're putting me through. Why don't you fucking care?" I don't wait for a response as I shove the phone back at Riot and walk away. She calls after me, but I grab my jacket and leave, not wanting to deal with any more.

I take my time to drive home. It's only five in the afternoon. My mind is a flurry of thoughts and emotions as I try to pass the time. Why did Andy try to call me? To apologize? To kick me out of his life? I don't think I could handle either...

Why is it so hard to think? Everything makes me want to shut down and off. Riot I'm sure has tried to get a hold of me after, I'm sure, Andy told her what happened. I don't want her to take his side. I don't want anyone to take his side.

Why does everyone I know have to be connected to Andy?

I somehow make it home through my haze of desperation, tear-welling, and lack of cigarettes. I walk in and up the stairs, quickly peeling off shoes and things too clingy before falling back into the bed, drowning in a sea of teenage-resembling angst and a pre-depression desire to sleep forever. I cry for a few minutes, getting the ugly part of this out first, and when my mind finally shuts up I'm left with bad ideas.

I glance at my phone. It's been off the whole day. What kind of crazy notifications am I going to have? Who has tried to contact me? Why?

I sniffle and blindly wipe at my eyes before grabbing my phone. I have to see what Andy said, even though I don't want to talk to him. Does that make sense?

When my phone turns on, it buzzes for at least a minute continuously. There's Twitter notifications, so many that I just turn off notifications for Twitter entirely. Text messages and missed calls still flood my notifications, so I check them. The first few texts I read are from Riot.

"hey, wuts going on?"

"Niki, whered u go??"

"Andy really needs to talk to u. its not what u think."

I ignore those texts. They aren't super important. I read the message that's from Andy's dad, Chris.

"Hey, girly. Just checking in. Andy said you weren't answering him and I wanted to check and make sure that you're okay. Please call him. He sounded really urgent."

I sigh. He told his dad to text me. I reply with a non-committal text saying that I'm not dead.

From CC:

"hey, I know it looks bad but hear Andy out. he's really worried about you, and so are we. let him explain. if you just want to talk to me, though, i'm here for you."

From Jinxx:

"Niki, please call Andy he's going crazy rite now. We're all worried about you."

And finally, as my chest seizes, from Andy:

"Baby Doll why aren't you picking up?"

"You saw that picture didn't you? Please let me explain."

"Niki you're seriously scaring me. Please pick up. I need to explain that picture. It's not what it looks like at all, and that girl is full of shit. Call me as soon as you read this"

"Niki seriously, answer the phone!"

"What did you mean by I don't care? Of course I care baby doll! Tell me what's going on with you. We need to talk."

Andy sounds so worried in all of these texts. Well, it seems like he'd be worried. I go to my calls before he sends another and realizes I've read them.

There's a missed call from Chris, everyone in BVB, multiples from Riot, and several from Andy. I listen to my voicemails. The first is from Riot.

"Niki, why'd you leave so suddenly? Andy really needs to talk to you and he sounded pretty upset. You need to call him. He's super worried about you."

The remaining three are from Andy.

"Baby Doll, why aren't you picking up? I get that your phone is off, but why are you trying to ignore me? Please call me."

"Niki, you're seriously worrying me. You haven't turned your phone on all day and I know that it's because of that picture. You have to believe me, baby, that the picture is totally bullshit. She's lying. Let me explain."

"Honey, you're worrying me so much. After what you said when I called Riot, I know you're thinking things you shouldn't be. I do care, Niki. You won't let me explain what happened. I know it seems really bad, but you just have to listen. I promise, she lied big time and it's all a huge misunderstanding. You're the only girl I could ever love and the situation hurts me as much as it hurts you. I need to know you're okay. Please, please, please, call me or text me or yell at me or something just so I know you're okay. Everybody is worried about you. I love you, okay? Please talk to me."

I start crying as I put the phone down. What's going on? He's trying to apologize for cheating? What does he mean by it's not what it looks like? That girl left a mark on him! He didn't even care about that! How could he mean that he loves me?

Who am I supposed to talk to? Everyone is on Andy's side with this. Why can't someone be skeptical with me? Why does everyone have to love him more than me?

Alright, maybe a little too far.

I wish things were simple again. I can't talk to either of my parents, and that stab only fuels more tears. I didn't have friends outside of my band in high school, really, so I couldn't talk to any of them. I suppose I could talk to Tim but he wouldn't give a shit. Even still, everyone wants me to accept him for letting this go. Who could I talk about this and they would agree with me?

As I shut my eyes in frustration against the warm pillow, my mind conjures a name I haven't thought of in over a year:

Adam.

It's perfect. An ex boyfriend and someone who used to be my best friend. I could tell him anything before and he'd always agree with me. He wouldn't want me to be with Andy anyway, so he would be my support.

The biggest problem, though, is he may not even want to think of me, let alone talk to me.

Despite my better judgement, I take a leap for faith. I want someone on my side.

I dial Adam's number, a number I've had memorized for a while. It starts ringing.

What if he's stationed right now? What if he recognizes my number and doesn't even pick up? What if he does and starts cussing me out? What if-

"Hello?"

My breath hitches. "Adam?"

There's a long pause. "Niki?"

I force myself to breathe. "Yeah."

More silence. "What do you want?"

"A friend," I plead. "Everyone is on the other side."

"Why don't you get Andy to be your friend," he says, agitated.

"Because he's the other side."

Once again, another long silence. "Why me?" he asks.

"Because everyone is on his side. Everyone. I need someone who will listen to me and agree."

He sighs and once again stays quiet. "Where are you?" he asks.

I give him our address. "Get all that?"

"Yeah," he says, and I hear him grabbing his keys. "Give me twenty minutes."

"Okay," I say. "Thank you."

He doesn't respond and instead hangs up.

What did I just get myself into?

I turn off my phone again and walk into the bathroom. My face is messy with dark make-up, so I clean it up so I don't look like a raccoon. I also change into my favorite pair of boy shorts and one of my mom's old sweaters. When I feel presentable I wait downstairs.

It takes a little more than twenty minutes to show up. I let it go, though, and just pace around the kitchen. It's nearly six-thirty now.

There's suddenly knocks on the door. I walk towards it quickly and open the door.

Adam, the same old Adam, is standing on the porch. Same old faded jeans, same ratty flannel, same dirty green eyes. Both of our breaths seem to catch when our eyes meet, but I clear my throat and speak.

"Hi," I say.

"Hey." His eyes are locked onto me, watching all my little movements.

I shake myself from my nerves and stand clear of the door. "Come in," I say.

He walks in and looks around. "This is a nice house," he says.

I'm about to thank him and tell him how Andy surprised me with it, but I shut my mouth quickly. "Thanks," I say, nervously holding my torso.

Adam clears his throat. "So, um, I guess I'm your friend today. What's up?"

I lead him to the living room and to the couch. We sit on opposite sides and I quickly tell him the entire story. My legs are folded and held against my chest the entire time as I speak. I always tend to ramble when I tell stories, so it takes a little too long for me to finish my story.

When I'm done, it's like seven thirty. I'm exhausted from crying all day and from my early wake up. He's upset for me and tries to comfort me, but it doesn't work and I start crying again so he scoots over and hugs me. This doesn't do much but I lean into him. He holds me and whispers that it's okay, that Andy doesn't deserve me, that when he comes home I should kick him out, and that I don't need him. This is exactly what I wanted him here for except now I feel horrible.

Despite whatever is going on, Andy and I are still in a relationship. I just spent a year with this man and his name was already branded into my heart- and my skin- because of the years before. I feel like this is so wrong, like this is cheating when it isn't. Two wrongs don't make a right.

When I finally stop the blubbering, I sigh before I yawn. I'm exhausted.

"Hey," Adam says softly. "Look at me."

I do.

He wipes my face with his hands and smiles at me. "Let Andy go. If he makes you feel like this he wasn't worth it."

I argue. "You made me feel like this when you would leave."

He sighs. "Apparently I wasn't worth it either..."

"Don't," I say. "Adam, you were my best friend for my whole life. It hurt me as much if not more to lose you. You were my only friend for so long and I still wish we were. But when Andy's gone, he's in the country, gone for three months, and his biggest danger is getting into a fight."

Adam pulls away and looks at me. It only takes a few moments before he starts slowly leaning in. I know exactly where this is going but I can't move. All I can think of is Andy and how his lips have done the same as mine will, but again, two wrongs don't make a right.

I move just as his lips begin to close the gap. "Adam," I whisper.

His hand lifts and pulls my face back. Our lips touch and he instantly moves his to be passionate. I don't do anything, or at least I don't think about it, but from previous memory and comfort from Adam my lips do the thinking and move with his.

I pull away. "Adam, I-"

"That's my final argument, Niki," he says. He locks his eyes with mine. "You know that I would do anything for you. I came here just to listen to you talk about Andy all night and I'm still here. Just give us... Give me another shot."

"I-I-I..." What are the words? What can I even say to this? "Ad-dam that's not the way this works."

"Why not?" he asks. "This should work the way it does. Andy cheated on you. I have never, nor will I ever. C'mon, we were engaged for years. We almost got married! You can just throw that all away on me?"

"Adam, please stop, that's not what I mean," I say, emotionally tolled and exhausted. I hold myself tighter. "Please don't do this. Adam, please." I start crying again.

"Hey," he murmurs. He pulls me into him and sighs. "I'm sorry, okay? Let's just forget about it. I rushed it, and I'm so sorry. Let's just go to sleep okay? Let's just talk in the morning."

I try to protest by through tired tears and exhausting yawns I'm spent. My body is ready to shut down and it begins to do so, but with Adam. I curl up to his side for comfort as my tears subside and he doesn't move. "Goodnight, Niki," he whispers.

I attempt a reply, but my lips don't allow it and I fall asleep.

I wake up to a testosterone-fueled yell.

My eyes open quickly as I take in my surroundings. I feel Adam moving away from me and hear him taking, but I'm too groggy to string the sounds into words and sentences. I move the blanket... Blanket? I look and see I'm curled up on the couch and Adam was laying with me. I look up as my brain finally registers the words my ears are hearing.

"If you fucking touched her, I swear to God," Andy growls.

Shit, Andy!

"She's the one who invited me, asshole!" Adam yells. "After you fucked her up!" He pushes him.

I scramble to stand up. Adam is in the military and Andy is a skilled self-taught fighter and neither of them know how to back down. Andy swings and Adam ducks before giving Andy a blow to the stomach, but Andy uses the pain to surprise him and kick in Adam's knee. When he falls Andy shoves his whole body to the ground and starts to lower himself to keep hitting him, but this is when I intervene.

"Stop!" I yell, pushing myself between the two men holding themselves in pain. Andy tries to start again, but with a hand on his chest I once again say, "Stop."

He looks down at me, hurt and anger in his eyes, but he stops.

Adam gets up again, feigning toughness. "You need to learn to listen," he says.

Andy leans forward again, profanities leaving his mouth so quick the devil would be impressed, but I hold him and focus on Adam. "You need to learn when to shut up," I say.

A tension-filled silence settles over the room. The boys stare at each other for a minute before both look to me. They want me to finish this.

"Adam, I think you need to go," I say.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" he yells. "What about everything you said?! What we talked about! You're just going to block me out again?!"

I sigh, tears stinging at my vision. "Adam, I asked you here as a support. Not a friend, not an ex, not as a potential, not as a fighter, a support. You blew all of that. Andy and I are probably going to be talking about a lot, but it's time you go."

He stares at me, and even in the darkness of the room you can see the emotional and physical pain in his eyes. "You'll just throw me away again?"

I shouldn't be crying over this but I am. I feel Andy's chest tighten under my hand as he waits for the response he wants. "If that means you'll leave, then yes."

Adam just stares at me before shaking his head. "I hope you two are happy together," he says, grabbing his jacket. As he walks by us he mutters, "You fucking deserve each other." Andy and I listen to the upset stomps of his boots until they run out the door and slam it behind them. Our ears pick up his old Mustang starting up and as it drives away.

When everything is quiet, Andy and I stare at each other. His breathing is rugged underneath my hand and mine is few and far between. His eyes are mad, swirling and darker than usual in the minimal light from the hallway. Despite the anger, he's hurt. He's upset that Adam was here or even around me. He's upset that I wanted to talk to Adam and not him.

Andy finally speaks. His hand pulls mine away from his chest. "Don't touch me," he whispers. "It's great to know that you held him all night and not a pillow."

His words sting, but I'm not completely wrong. He's the one with the hickey on his collar bone. I didn't do anything with Adam... Well, we kissed, but I didn't want to.

"Coming from the guy that used another's girl mouth on his collar bones." I spit it out despite the tears trying to burst from behind my eyes. I walk out of the room. It's too early for this.

"Well if you would let me fucking explain!" he shouts. "You won't let me talk! I tried calling you and texting you and getting you through other people, and the only thing that worked was me flying here after the Louisville show in Kentucky just to make sure you were okay!"

This makes me hesitate, but once again I can't help myself from accusing. "Thanks for coming all the way out here just to make sure I wasn't having a mental break-down before shit got worse." I step into the dining room.

It takes less than three seconds for Andy to complete grabbing my arm, spinning me around, cupping my face in his hands, and pressing his lips to mine. His full bottom lip moves mine and my body craves to sink into the moment. I miss the way he feels and smells and tastes. I almost do let myself fall under his spell if it weren't for him pulling away first. His eyebrow is raised, his eyes curious but accusing. "Did you get a new chapstick?" he asks. "Yours is normally minty."

I lick my lips, feeling they're dry, and taste cherry on my lips. Cherry? That's impossible. Even if Adam uses it, there's no way it could've lasted that long... Could it have?

Andy's features sink as he realizes what happened. He pulls away and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "You fucking kissed him!" he shouts. "You... You're mad at me for something I didn't even do, and you fucking kissed him?! What else did you do?!"

"I didn't kiss him!" I yell back, knowing the neighbors probably aren't thinking too kindly of us but disregarding it. "He kissed me and I told him, even though we were going through shit right now, that he shouldn't have done that! I pulled away!" Once again, I accuse as to get off of my guilt. "I didn't just give in and let some girl-"

"Niki, shut up! You have no idea what happened last night because you won't fucking let me explain!" Andy pulls at his hair.

I try to let the "shut up" go but it tugs at something in the back of my head about previous fights between other people. "Well let me explain. After whatever happened last night happened, I had one of the shittiest days ever, expecting to turn on my phone and have more people on Twitter invade my privacy because some whore took credit for a hickey on my collar bones!" He doesn't protest to my possession, because he knows the way I feel about them. "And then, when I turned it on and had all those, I had everyone I know siding with you and telling me to just forgive you because it was probably a mistake! So I called the one person I knew that wouldn't want me to side with you."

"Because he wants you!" Andy interjects. "Did you honestly think you were going to invite him over and he would keep it friendly?"

"Last night I didn't care! I just wanted one person to be on my side!"

"And that justifies you kissing him?" His eyes show the hurt in my actions as his voice drops.

I sigh, actually looking at him. His hair is messy and his leather jacket and jeans seem like a quick plane-outfit choice but still suits him well. There's residual eyeliner from the show that make the hurt in his eyes so much more clear to see.

I explain, "I didn't kiss him. He kissed me and told me I should leave you and that you making me so upset meant that you didn't deserve me. I didn't listen, in fact, I defended you. I told him he used to make me cry more than you ever have because of his actions! And when he kissed me I told him no, I told him it wasn't going to happen."

"And then you just fell asleep with him and had no problem with that?" he says accusingly.

This is so frustrating and I pull my hair back. "No! I fell asleep because I'm exhausted from insomnia and crying! I wasn't aware he was holding me on the couch until I woke up!"

Andy stares at me in silence for a long moment. "You didn't want him just to get back at me?"

"No," I say. "I wanted someone to be on my side." I look at him for a moment, seeing the hurt start to slip from his eyes. I know why he asked me that. Scout used to cheat to hurt him or get back at him; Andy's told me that before. "I'm not like Scout," I say. "I wouldn't do that."

Once again we just stare at each other before Andy steps forward again and onto the wood flooring. He wipes my lips with the sleeve of his jacket before he leans into my lips again, kissing me strongly. His arms wrap around my waist and he scratches the small of my back like he always does and I so badly want this to be okay. I pull away and out of his arms. "Baby Doll, come here," he murmurs.

"Don't call me that," I whisper shakily. A tear slips from my eye.

He holds me to him from behind and tightens his hold. "Are you going to let me explain?"

I sniffle. "Why? You're just going to tell me you were drunk and it's a mistake you'll never make again." I pull away again.

"Niki, just let me explain," he says, following me.

"Either way you slept with that girl, so it doesn't matter," I accuse.

"Niki, stop!" he says, exasperated. "I didn't sleep with her!"

I stop in my tracks but I don't turn to look at him.

"If you'd fucking let me explain-"

"Then explain!" I shout, turning back to him. "Explain how you let someone else stain your collar bones! How you just allowed that much time to let someone do that!" My anger is finally boiling over.

"Because I didn't!" he yells, louder than I ever could be. "I shared a room with CC that night and the groupie, not caring that I'm in the most committed relationship I've ever been in, made moves on me when I came back! I just fell asleep because it was late and I was tired and yes, I had a few drinks! And when I woke up, there was that picture and the hickeys! She tried a second time on the bus and I just ignored her! I tried calling you immediately to tell you what happened and you wouldn't let me explain!"

He was just asleep? I accuse more, because I don't completely believe that. "You were just asleep, huh? What else did she do when you were asleep?"

"I don't know! What did Adam do when he was here?!" he shouts. "Why don't you trust me anymore?! Do you really think I would just throw you away?!" He pushes his hair back. "Last night we were telling each other how much we missed each other and how difficult it is to live without one another. I told you I've never felt this way about another girl ever! Ever! And yet I would just throw you away and sleep with some groupie because I was drunk?! Who do you think I am?!"

His shoulders are straighter as he speaks, so he's taller, and he takes another step towards me, almost casting a shadow on me. This also tugs at something in the back of my mind and I realize that I'm thinking about when my parent's fought. I suddenly become that afraid little six year old in a house too big for me.

"Don't hit me," I whisper, tears finally leaking from behind my eyes and painting my cheeks.

He instantly softens, the anger in his eyes dwindling to care and love, and he takes a couple steps away. "Baby..." He sighs. "Niki, I'm not your dad. I'm not going to hit you like he hit your mom. I promise."

I hold my torso. This moment was what my dad warned me against, but even as angry as we both got he still didn't hit me. He was angry and shouted, and I did too. That was as far as it got.

I'm about to take a step forward to lean into his embrace when Andy sighs, pulling his hair back. "Let's just... Let's just sleep this off," he says. "We're both tired. It's like four in the morning."

I just nod in response.

He gestures for me to go ahead of him, so I do. I start the walk up the stairs up to our room.

"I'll give you space," Andy says from behind me. I look behind me. "I'll sleep down here tonight. We'll talk in the morning." He shakes out his hair. "I love you."

Without a word, I walk back down the steps and take his hand in mine. Even with the argument I've missed him more than anything, and now that he's here I'm not letting him go.

He climbs a few steps before stopping me. "Niki, if you want space-"

"That's the last thing I want right now," I tell him without missing a beat. I continue leading him upstairs to our room. I couldn't stand my brain if I slept in our bed alone again.

Once in our room, we walk together to the bed. He always gets in first because of the way we lay, so I look at him when he hesitates. When he realizes that he's holding us up he takes his leather jacket and shoes off as quickly as he can, as well as his belt. He sits in bed and removes his shirt at the last second before laying back. I follow quickly, curling up to him immediately and as closely as I can. His arms slide around me to where they always rest.

For a few moments, it's silent and still. Our breathing is normal if not a little shallow, and after a moment the tension in the room has dissipated. Andy's hands move to underneath my sweater so they're resting plainly against my skin, and my legs hook around his to be closer. Andy places a soft kiss on my head to confirm everything, and when I don't protest it's all okay.

"Niki, I missed you so much," he murmurs.

"I missed you too," I say. "I'm sorry about having Adam here, I shouldn't-"

"I get it. I'm still not happy about it, but I understand. Just promise I never have to see that pretentious, idiotic mother fucker ever again."

"I promise," I tell him. "How is he idiotic, though? For trying to fight you?" Probably a bad question, but I ask questions about everything.

"No. He made the most beautiful woman in the world unhappy and lost her," he answers. "I'm never going to do that."

I can't help but smile into his chest. "Good," I say. I scratch lightly at his ribs. "I'm sorry you have to miss your shows too."

"For you, it's worth it. Besides, we don't technically have a show tonight anyways."

"I'm surprised you got a plane ticket so quickly," I say.

"Well, I actually didn't. I made a plane myself."

"You made a plane."

"Yeah, I paper mache'd a plane," he says, and I start laughing of course because he's silly, "and I used printed out Tweets from the people letting me know what's going on in our relationship. There were plenty of Tweets to build one."

I can't help but giggle for a few moments. Other than his obviously absurd comment, the fact that he's making fun of how blown out of proportion this is on Twitter is even funnier because that's what got us into this mess and we're already over it. When I stop laughing, I hold myself as closely to him as I can and he squeezes me.

"I love you, Niki. I've never loved anyone the way I love you."

I can't help but hum with a smile, as girly as that is, to the comment. "I love you too, Andy," I say. I kiss his tattoo of my nickname before I rest my cheek on it. I use his heartbeat as a rhythm for breathing and fall asleep to it, having the most peaceful sleep I've had since January.