Chapter Text
After the funeral, Aaron refuses to speak to Andrew. He refuses to even look at his twin. Andrew knows that Aaron blames him; he won’t confirm that the accident wasn’t so much an accident as it was planned, but from the Aaron flinches from him, Andrew knows that he knows. Andrew doesn’t care that his brother can’t seem to stand the sight of him, because what had he expected? He asked Andrew to help him, so Andrew helped. He made sure that Tilda could never raise a hand to Aaron again.
But Aaron didn’t see it like that. No. All he saw was his long lost twin take away his mother from him. Never mind that she beat the shit out of him on a daily basis. Never mind that she force fed him her drugs to keep him docile. It was as if Aaron could forgive all of that simply because the woman had given birth to him. As if being his mother absolved her of her crimes against him.
Andrew decides that if Aaron wants to blame him for keeping his end of the deal, then fuck him because Andrew Minyard doesn’t go back on his word. Andrew will still protect his twin, but he won’t be his brother, his friend. What Andrew does know is that he made a deal, and he sticks by h
Andrew doesn’t know what to make of Nicky when he swoops in from Germany after the funeral and takes custody of them. What Andrew does know is that he made a deal with Aaron, and he sticks by his word no matter what, so he forces Aaron to get clean, and makes sure that no one touches Aaron at their school. He knows that Aaron hates him for it, but he can’t bring himself to care about that. Andrew does buy a car for himself when the life insurance Tilda had-which he still finds a bit unbelievable, the fact that Tilda left them a lot of money with the insurance-and it almost brings a smile to his face, knowing he bought an expensive car with Tilda’s money, and Tilda died in a deathtrap of a used car.
He knows he should probably be thankful that Nicky put his own life on hold to take care of them, but he can’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop. He can’t help but think of all the ways that this could go wrong, of waiting for the telltale creak of his bedroom door opening in the middle of the night. Nicky makes sure that both Aaron and Andrew get up in time for school, even going so far as to make them breakfast in the morning before he drops them off at school and makes his way to some diner job he picked up, one of three jobs he works to help take care of them.
More time passes, and Andrew realizes that Nicky isn’t looking for anything in return, that his cousin is taking care of them out of the goodness of his heart; that Nicky actually seems to care about them with no ulterior motives, and that no matter how hard both Aaron and Andrew push the limits on what Nicky can handle, on what a normal person could handle, Nicky always bounces back smiling, asking them about their day.
Andrew doesn’t know what to think.
~*~*~*
Abram was tired, soul-crushingly exhausted, worn out, drained, fatigué, what-fucking-ever, take your pick because that’s been his entire mental state for the past few months and he can’t even think, let alone keep the words and languages straight in his head. It’s been two months of hitchhiking and walking and eating shitty food from gas stations, of always being on the move, because he knows that if he stops he won’t have it in him to get back up again. His mother had been his driving force for the past few years, and without her, he knows he’s nothing. No one. He’s nothing.
Abram’s only been on his own for a couple of months, but it feels like he’s aged years in that time.
It takes him longer than he’d care to admit for him to make it all the way to Columbia and find a-relatively-safe place to hunker down and get his bearings, making sure that everything in his duffle is accounted for. Once he settles in and stakes his claim on the third floor of an old abandoned warehouse that’s honestly so decrepit that even the homeless and addicts steer clear, Abram makes his way to a CVS to pick up some essentials; hair dye (an ashy blond this time), protein bars, gallon of water, and a small thin blanket, since he knows better than most that it’ll be cold tonight and he’ll need all the protection he can get, knowing he can’t afford to catch sick.
By the time he makes it back to the Warehouse it’s nearing 7pm, according to the old watch he wears.
Tomorrow, Abram thinks as he settles down and arranges himself and puts his head of his duffle and brings his new blanket up to his chin, I’ll find a library and figure out the directions to my mother’s contact, get a new ID and some new contacts. By this time tomorrow I’ll be a new person.
Tomorrow.