Andrew was good at what he did, performing in front of thousands, (on rare occasions millions, but he didn’t want to get a big head about it) and sharing his talent with the world. But, tours took everything out of him, really. He was always exhausted to some degree when he stepped off stage.

You were the one thing that got him through, being his partner and also one of his backing vocalists, he saw you on stage and on set for sound checks all the fucking time, but of course, you had to go and get sick. Of course, getting sick wasn’t your fault, it was apparently cold and flu season in America around the fall time.

So, he was really feeling the effects of not having you on stage with him, he couldn’t look at you because you were back at the hotel, resting up.

He got through the rest of the show and was off back to the hotel in an instant, anxiously sitting in the elevator, listening to the taunting dings as the floors to your room got nearer. He couldn’t care less that you were sick right now, he wanted to see his baby.

He knocked on your door once he was there, anxiously waiting as he heard you padding towards the door. When it final opened, he was on you in an instant, closing the door and smothering you in kisses all over. Your forehead, cheeks, temple, neck, then finally, your lips, again, not carving at all that you were sick.

“I missed you so much, baby… not being able to see your pretty face on stage…”