Being surrounded by a bunch of high maintenance, toxic celebrities isn't usually how Andrew spends his evenings. He's still getting used to the whole 'getting invited to big events' thing. Fame is still a foreign concept, a strange but welcomed experience.

He had only really been invited due to the featuring of one of the songs from his debut, self-titled album 'Hozier'. That is song being 'Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene. A piece of music Andrew wouldn't have expected to be in the background of a Victoria Secret runway show. But, hey, he'd take all the attention his music could get.

It was a little nerve wracking to be sat right front and center of the end of the runway. The thought of being that close to any of the models made his breathing uneven and his palms feel a little clammy.

After what felt like an hour of speeches made by narcissistic, self-centered designers, Andrew took notice of a string of familiar chords echoing from the speakers. And, soon enough, the show had finally started.

Models had begun strutting down the runway, one after the other, each step connecting with every beat at utmost precision. Each woman being gifted as the visual representation of perfection. Andrew felt almost unworthy of being in the same room as them.

However, he soon found himself slipping into a pit of awe. If it wasn't for an irrational fear of making himself look stupid, his jaw would've been gaping by now.

Sure, the other models were beautiful. But you're quite literally the epitome of ethereal. Long, straw blonde hair, arms hard and lean, piercing grey eyes, sharp features, and a body to die for. Andrew could swear that he'd passed away and this was the guardian angel guiding him to the afterlife.

'Theres no way she's real. Was the only thought drifting through Andrews brain at that very moment, he swore he was going crazy.