Title: The Face
Summary: Andy reflects on his lady, Allison, and just what sort of effect she has had on him. Andy/Allison.
A/N: Okay first of all, I just want to say that I don't know when this story takes place. It is well after detention, and I guess I can say Andy and Allison have been together awhile.
A/N 2: This is a one shot, and yes I know it is short. I got this little plot bunny in my head while I was listening to the Pixies. They are a great band, and a lot of their songs remind me of Allison because their lyrics are just weird. So it got me thinking, what kinds of things remind Andrew of Allison? And what does he think of her when she isn't there? This is going to be slightly comedic, slightly fluffy, and definitely a ONE SHOT. So I will NOT post any more after this.
The Face of Allison
Andy slammed his bedroom door behind him and pulled off his shirt. The day had been long and hot and he was just damn glad that he was home. In fact, hitting his pillow and sprawling out on his bed had never seemed like a better idea.
He had gotten a seasonal job roofing for the summer. He carried all sorts of bundles up and down ladders and hammered nails left and right. Most of the guys that worked for the company were a lot older, were drunks, and were miserable. It had gotten so repetitive that day that he began playing little games up on the roof. He even put a smiley face in one shingle with nails.
He was damn lucky his boss hadn't caught that.
He stepped in front of his mirror and looked at himself. His skin was tanned a copper color from all the sun he was getting, and he was becoming a lot more toned and defined. While the job was long and tiring, it was definitely doing good things for the body.
He raked a hand through his golden hair and sighed, walking sorely towards his bed and flopping down on his back. The work had been going on for weeks now, and with that added to his wrestling training, he had next to no social life at that particular moment.
He hadn't seen her all week, but he couldn't stop thinking about her; she was the weirdest human being that he had ever met.
She was very rude; she had no manners at all. She slurped, burped, and played with her food. When they had gone out to a restaurant, she actually ordered candy on the side of her pizza so that she could place strange pictures on it. When she didn't think the waitress was creeped out enough, she stuck her hand in the salad bowl and served herself without using any utensils.
She drew funny pictures of almost everything slightly amusing to her. She once sat about four feet in front of an older couple and drew them in the park; they had told her to leave them alone – they even threw a stick at her. She just laughed and drew them. She thought that they made good scenery.
She listened to strange music, and made up even stranger dances to the songs. She looked like the kind of person that would listen to the Cure or the Smiths, but she would put on Janis Joplin and Jefferson Airplane and dance around her room with no lights on except a lava lamp. Sometimes she would even paint her face and wear only her night gowns.
She talked to her pet cat. She had conversations with it. She also owned a pet rat; a big, fat, fuzzy, white rat with bright red eyes. It looked like an alien. He was convinced he should flush it down the toilet so it could be in the sewer where it belonged. But she loved that rat. One time she even brought it to school….in her shirt.
For fun, she dressed like a bag lady. She loved shopping for her clothes at the salvation army. This one time, he had invited her to the mall and she wore a hat with a long black veil coming down…it completely covered her eyes. That same day, she wore a t-shirt that had the California raisons on it. He just didn't understand it.
She made funny noises; even when she was by herself. They would be working away in the middle of class and she would squeak so loud that everyone would turn around and stare at her. She would just smile and admire her work. Most of the time she was building stuff out of her class supplies…or making voodoo dolls, or drawing tattoo designs up her arms.
One thing that always stood out to him though was her face. No matter what she was doing, or wearing, or saying, the look on her face – in her eyes – would haunt him for the rest of his life.
She had this dazzling face with such sharp features. Every curve and contour in her face was chiseled into his brain. She had high cheek bones that just soared every time that she smiled.
Her eyes were very intriguing. When she laughed they sparkled. They just danced a carefree jig that just made him laugh along with her. When she was sad or upset, her eyes would just melt. They were round and huge, and the most emotional orbs he had ever seen.
He had told her the first day that he met her that her showing him her face was a good thing. He could never forget that face. It burned his brain and his thoughts every minute or every day.
The eccentric girl drove him absolutely crazy.
He always found himself playing little games. He had tried walking around his house on his hands the other day, mostly because he was bored. When he had cooked pan cakes the other day, he found himself adding green and blue food coloring to make things a little more interesting.
Every single simple every day thing needed a face lift. He could always picture her eyes beaming wide, telling him that it was boring. So he fixed it, and afterwards, he saw that face again, smiling at his silliness. No one else quite understood it. He sure as hell didn't understand it, but he wasn't complaining.
They did silly things together all of the time. At first he was kind of hesitant to act so silly in public, but after a year passed, it wasn't so hard anymore. She made him forget about all the things that stressed him out and all the things that got him down. Sure, she didn't solve all of his problems, but she was just the right medicine to help him ignore them for a while.
So whenever things went down or got bad he thought about that face. The face that made him crazy; the face that frequented his brain constantly.
If the world were to end tomorrow, if world war three were to break out, if the moon were to collide with their planet, the last thing he would think of is that face. It didn't need to say any words; it just needed to be there. It needed to be his plague and his life support.
Hell, if he was a junkie he could trip all day seeing that face. He would die a happy man if he was left with nothing else.
So he would get up and go to work again in the morning. He would hate his day and he would hate his co-workers. He would look up at the scorching sun and think of the face of Allison. He would do something ridiculous that he picked up on from her, and his day would end.
Same thing everyday, but as long as he had that picture in his brain he would be fine.
Maybe a little crazy, but fine.