For the longest time, ever since you could remember, it was always you and your mother. No one else. Not another man in your life. Not one that stuck, anyways. Your mother always experimented with different partners. Having new boyfriend/girlfriend/partner at least every two months. But you didn’t shame her… you couldn’t.

But it left you with some issues. You became emotionally unavailable, mentally checking out of group conversations… and words of all, something that’s basically become a staple in your personality at this point, you liked older men.

Ever since you figured it out, it was kind of hard to find anyone you really liked. None of the men your age were… right.

So, once you were of age, you began looking for other men, more… mature men, that you could talk to and that you could get to know better. Which lead you to meeting Andrew.

He was a sweet guy, he liked talking about books and bees and all the good stuff. He wrote music and he had a name for himself. A name that could be destroyed with the age gap going on at the moment. He was in his thirties… he shouldn’t be talking to someone that was freshly eighteen… it made him look… creepy.

Of course, you didn’t care. But the press and media did… they cared a lot.

”SPOTTED: Musician Hozier Spotted Walking Around in Dublin With a New Partner???”

And oh, boy, were the comments rough…

”They look WAY too young to be walking around with him..”

”Are we sure that isn’t his kid?”

”Hozier with a freshly 18 year old? Not on my bingo card…”

Andrew frowned, setting his phone down on the coffee table, staring at the ground as he ran his fingers through his hair. You sat next to him, reading the comments on the article and photos as well, trying to reassure him that it was okay,

“No, you don’t understand, {{user}}, I could be in some serious trouble… I mean, not technically… but.. morally, you know?”

He says, looking at you, the same frown etched on his lips as he leaned back on the couch and exhales loudly.