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Neil doesn’t really know why everyone insists on going to Eden’s, but more than that he doesn’t know how he ends up joining every time.
Neil would be more than content to stay back at the dorm, watching Exy reruns. Or smoking on the roof with Andrew. Or doing… other things on the roof with Andrew. Honestly, Neil would even be more than content to watch one of Andrew’s strange nature documentaries than go somewhere with sticky floors, too-loud music, and a mass of bodies.
Except, here he was.
“Pouting isn’t a good look for you, junkie.”
Neil turned his pout into a scowl. Andrew stared unamused back at him. They were spread out over two standing tables. Now that it wasn’t just Andrew and his family, Dan and the others joining, their group took up a lot of space. They had been there for an hour already, and the drinks scattered around the table showed it.
“We could be watching—“
“Boring.”
Neil snapped his mouth shut. Andrew drummed his fingers on the table and glanced away, jaw ticking as his eyes surveyed the crowd.
Andrew had been— sharper, lately. His words more cutting. Neil wasn’t sure what had changed in the past couple days, but he was content to wait it out. Neil had his own days where the world pressed against his skin a little too much, causing him to lash out at whatever was near. Him and Andrew were alike in that way. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a comfort, but it was.
“We could be making use of an empty dorm,” Neil said instead.
Amber eyes flicked back over to him.
“Junkie,” Andrew said.
Neil felt a grin, sharp and too-wide. “I thought that was only for Exy.”
“Your obsession with Exy isn’t attractive.”
“But my obsession with you is?”
Wrong thing to say, apparently. People thought Andrew was expressionless— a monster— but that was a lie. Andrew had more expressions than most people, you just had to spend the time learning how to read them. Like the slight upward raise of his eyebrows when Neil did something particularly idiotic. Or the one-two tap of his fingers against something when he was curious despite himself. Or the barest quirk at the corner of his lips when Neil tore someone a new one. Or how his eyes got dark and his lids went heavy when Neil—
Anyway.
Any expressions Andrew did have were now wiped clean. It was like having the solid ground underneath his feet suddenly turn to water, leaving Neil unsteady and unmoored.
“This is nothing,” was Andrew’s reply.
Neil shrugged and took a long sip of his Coke. He was saved from putting his foot in his mouth again by Nicky bounding up, sweaty and covered in— glitter?— throwing an arm around Neil’s shoulder.
“My favorite little redhead,” Nicky shouted over the music. Neil shrugged him off and wrinkled his nose at the dampness Nicky’s arm had left behind. “Come dance.”
“I would rather get stabbed.” And Neil actually meant that. He knew how to take care of a stab wound with his eyes closed.
Nicky patted Neil’s head like he was some feral stray.
“We need more drinks,” he said, this time aimed at Andrew. Half of the other Foxes let out resounding agreements. “Do you want---“
“I’ll get them,” Andrew said.
Neil blinked. It wasn’t exactly usual for Andrew to offer to do something for the other Foxes. Usually, Andrew was more than happy to go get himself (and Neil) a drink and leave all the others complaining about their selfishness.
“I knew I loved you for a reason,” Nicky slurred.
Neil straightened, preparing to push off from the table, but Andrew waved a lazy hand.
“Stay.”
Neil frowned, and not only because he didn’t like being ordered like a dog. Andrew held his gaze, some type of challenge in them. Waiting for Neil to push back against this boundary, maybe. Shove into Andrew’s space when the man so clearly did not want Neil to join him.
Neil huffed and rested his elbows back against the table. He watched as Andrew was swallowed up by the crowd, and tried to ignore the beating of his own heart. Andrew could take care of himself. Neil knew that.
Still, Neil… Neil didn’t mind braving the crowds if it meant pushing wandering hands away from Andrew or listening to Andrew’s caustic opinions of everyone within a ten foot distance. Now, Neil was stuck at the table with Nicky shouting into his ear about how Lady GaGa is the Mozart of our time and watching Kevin and Allison have a…. Staring contest? A couple feet away.
“Fuck—“ Allison slammed her hand against the table, swaying on her feet and blinking rapidly. “That’s fucking crazy. You’re a robot.”
Kevin looked far too smug. “Not a robot. I’m just a winner.”
Neil rolled his eyes and focused back on trying to riddle out who Lady Gaga was and why she mattered. It was fifteen minutes later that drinks were dropped off at their table by some server— no Andrew. No one seemed to notice, too busy clinking their glasses together and hollering, but Neil did.
Five more minutes ticked by.
Neil counted them in his head.
Andrew was fine. Andrew could take care of himself. Andrew, unlike Neil, knew how to actually throw a punch instead of just taking one. He didn’t need Neil following him around like some lost puppy when he clearly had wanted space.
Five more minutes and Neil was tense enough his muscles ached with it.
Neil wasn’t usually one to catastrophize. His life was enough of a catastrophe without him making up scenarios to mull over. Yet, there he was— Andrew could be hurt. Someone could have slipped something in Andrew’s drink. One of Nathan’s associates could have evaded the FBI, found them, and struck Neil at the only part that would truly hurt—
Neil shoved back from the table and through the crowd. Sticky bodies pressed against him, but he ignored it. More than likely, Andrew would be outside smoking a cigarette. He would look Neil over with that cool gaze when Neil burst out there, blow out a plume of smoke, and say your mental breakdown isn’t attractive, rabbit.
Except Andrew wasn’t outside. The alleyway was empty except for two people making out by the dumpster, both women.
The world was slowing. Neil felt a vise gripping around his throat, his father’s voice in his ear saying I’ll take everything from you. His mother’s voice in his other one whispering we don’t get to be happy.
Andrew had to be at this bar. He had to be somewhere.
Neil vaguely remembered Nicky mentioning something about Eden’s closets once, his voice sly in a way Neil didn’t understand back then, and the memory had Neil moving back there. He kept his strides purposeful and his face calm and no one stopped him. Neil pushed open one closet and it was— empty. Just stacks of cleaning supplies and a bleach smell that assaulted Neil’s nose.
Neil wasn’t sure if he had even blinked in the past minute. Visions of Andrew— golden, shining Andrew— with a bullet through his head were assaulting his mind. Not him, he begged the cruel universe that never listened, just not him.
He shoved open the next closet door and—
Neil almost shut it immediately. Because there were two men in there, one on his knees, and that wouldn’t be Andrew. Except, it was. That was Andrew’s blonde, golden hair. That was his pale hand, black polish chipped at the nails, digging into the other man’s thigh. And that was his other hand, on the man’s—
Roland. The man was Roland.
And Neil was standing there like an idiot.
Roland’s eyes opened on a moan that abruptly cut off into a startled yelp at seeing Neil. His hands were raised above his head, gripping the shelving bars— no, tied there— and his body was all smooth planes and unmarred flesh.
Andrew stood up, whirling around with a knife already in his hand. He stilled when he saw Neil.
Neil had been through many, many horrible things. But he was pretty sure he would rather relive them all than try to figure out the awkwardness that was this situation.
“I— uh…” Neil took a step back. How would a normal person respond? “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry.”
That was good. Neil kept his voice steady, so that was good.
“Neil,” Andrew said, voice a taut line.
“No worries. Totally chill.” Neil grimaced internally. Too normal. He had never said those words in his life. He held up his palms like he was at gunpoint and backed away. There was something building in his gut he didn’t understand, and the pounding of his heart said run run run. “Just— checking in. But you’re good. And I’m good. So I’ll just…”
Neil turned and fled.
Andrew was okay. No bullet holes, no groping hands in the dark, no injuries. Andrew was fine. Which meant Neil was also fine. Andrew was alive and well and that was all Neil had asked for. The universe had answered one of his pleas and Neil was fine. He was fucking fine.
Getting back to the table was its own form of hell. Without the adrenaline of looking for Andrew flooding his system, Neil was keenly aware of every brush of skin against his own. Of the grinning faces and too-loud laughs, everyone happy happy happy normal.
He needed to leave. Neil wasn’t sure why his chest felt like it was being torn through by a shredder, but he couldn’t be here anymore. He stopped by the table briefly to tell the most sober of them— Renee, unsurprisingly— that he was heading back, not waiting to hear her concerned question of how he was getting back.
The minute Neil’s feet touched pavement, he was running.
The outfit Andrew had put him in tonight wasn’t really athletic wear, but if there was one thing Neil could do it was work with what he had.
Neil ran until he couldn’t anymore, which left him on the side of a busy road. Close enough that he could feel the rush of air as cars blurred past him. Neil closed his eyes and pressed a hand over his chest, willing this shredded feeling to go away.
Andrew had been fine. He was alive. He was safe.
And he was with Roland.
Neil wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. Andrew wasn’t… they weren’t dating. Andrew had always been more than clear about that. Andrew had said this means nothing and Andrew meant what he said. He wanted to keep things private between him and Neil, and it’s not like Neil minded. Neil didn’t want the Foxes and their inane questions, either.
Neil just hadn’t known… he hadn’t realized that Andrew was…
Neil dug his fingers in hard through the fabric of his shirt.
He wasn’t someone people dated. He wasn’t a boyfriend. Neil knew that— he had the scars to prove it. Neil wouldn’t even know the first thing about something like that so this didn’t matter.
He was fine.
He felt the phantom weight of his mom around his shoulders, her voice in his ear— we don’t get to be happy. The rest of that sentence, in some rundown hotel in Montana, had been— we get to survive.
Neil let out a breath just as his phone started ringing. He didn’t even have to look to know who it was, the ringtone made it obvious. Neil flipped the phone open and pressed it against his ear.
“Where are you.” Andrew’s voice wasn’t a question, but a demand.
“Got too crowded in there and I’m pretty sure Nicky was about to drag me onto the dance floor.” Neil felt himself slipping into some role, like he used to do on the run. But bizarrely, this role was himself. It was like Neil was outside his body, watching himself on this phone call with Andrew.
“You don’t have a car.”
“You’re too reliant on a vehicle,” Neil quipped back. Normal. This is normal. “I’m heading back to the dorms.”
“I’ll come get you.”
That couldn’t happen, because Neil was pretty sure whatever was helping him sound normal wouldn’t make him look normal too. Andrew was always far too perceptive, and Neil needed some time to— get himself under control. To remind himself that Andrew had been clear what this thing between them was, what it wasn’t, and that Neil was fine with that.
“No need,” Neil said lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Neil ended the call, well aware Andrew was probably imagining strangling him right now. He stuck out his thumb and it only took fifteen minutes for Neil to bum a ride close enough back to Palmetto that he could run the rest of the way.
He didn’t even bother showering before flopping into bed. Every time he closed his eyes, all Neil saw was them. Andrew and Roland.
Neil forced himself to see it, to understand.
Andrew had been clear about what this was between them.
It was nothing.
----------------------
Neil was a study on normalcy the next two days.
They were too busy with practices for it to really matter, anyway. For once, Neil was glad that he was known for his single-minded Exy focus. It gave him a good excuse to throw himself into Exy without looking like he was avoiding Andrew. Which he wasn’t.
Neil just…
He wasn’t good, with things like this. All his life he had been on the run. He hadn't been worried about things like making friends, or dating, or not dating but trading cigarettes and kisses and deals on a roof. Neil had no fucking idea what he was doing, and so really— he couldn’t blame Andrew for looking elsewhere. In fact, Neil understood it completely.
It was after practice the second day that Andrew stopped him.
“Roof?”
Andrew never asked it like a question. He stated, and Neil followed gladly behind in his wake. Neil wasn’t sure what caused this bit of uncertainty in Andrew now, but he didn’t like it.
“Roof,” Neil confirmed.
Andrew studied him for a few moments before leading the way, handing a cigarette back over his shoulder. Neil ignored the rising tension in his own body. They didn’t talk again until they were settled in their customary positions— Neil kicking his feet over the ledge and Andrew, sitting cross-legged and displeased, a foot back.
“You ran,” Andrew said.
Neil considered playing dumb but didn’t have a death wish today.
“Yeah.” He inhaled the scent of smoke and thought of his mother. “Too crowded.”
“Too crowded,” Andrew echoed. The quirk of one brow said disbelief. “You saw us.”
Now Neil really wanted to play dumb.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Neil winced, chewing on his bottom lip. “You didn’t come back to the table and I thought— I don’t know. Just let me know next time, if you’re going to disappear.”
“Let you know next time.”
Neil almost pointed out that Andrew hated when people parroted his own words back at him, but again— no death wish today. He cast his eyes out over the cloudless blue sky instead.
“You’ve been avoiding me the past two days.”
“Not avoiding,” Neil said staunchly. “Just— Kevin’s been biting my head off about that new drill and I’m trying to get the footwork done so—
“If you’re not avoiding me then look at me.”
Neil did. It was always easy to look at Andrew. Even if they had never started— whatever this was— and Neil was only ever allowed to look at Andrew, that would have been enough. A slight breeze ruffled Andrew’s golden hair and the sunlight made his eyes glow. His fingernails were bare today, his left hand drumming a pattern on his knee and his other hand holding the cigarette between too-casual fingers.
“I thought you hated when I stare.”
“I hate it more when you don’t.”
Neil didn’t know what to do with that. He thought of Roland, the pale column of his throat tilted back and the sound he made with Andrew’s hands on him, and wondered if Andrew hated him too. If Andrew told him it was nothing.
Andrew let out a breath, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Talk to me, rabbit.”
“We are talking.”
“You saw us,” Andrew repeated again. Neil wasn’t sure why he insisted on doing that, when every time it felt like a tire iron to Neil’s chest. “Talk about that.”
“I already apologized.”
Andrew’s fingers twitched around the cigarette. “Most people would say you aren’t the one who should be apologizing.”
Neil shot Andrew a confused look.
The cigarette snapped in his hand. Andrew threw the ends over the roof. When he turned back to Neil, his stare was heavy.
“Do you ever,” he began. “Have something so beautiful in your hands you want to crush it? Destroy it before it destroys you?”
Neil thought about this. He thought about Exy and the Foxes, playing even when he knew it would kill him. He thought about his mother, and their stolen moments of joy over the years, eating ramen noodles in front of the TV and watching cartoons. He thought about Andrew, with his jagged edges, sharp words, and gentle hands.
“No,” Neil said finally. “Normally I let it destroy me.”
Andrew curled a hand into a fist until his knuckles went white.
“I don’t do regrets,” he said.
“I know.”
“But I won’t do that again.”
Neil wasn’t sure he was completely following the conversation, but relief hit him at these words. Andrew would let Neil know the next time he went off with someone else. Then, Neil wouldn’t have to be worried Andrew was bleeding out somewhere, bullet through his head. He felt a little sick at the thought that now he would know Andrew was with someone else, but he pushed that away. Everything was fine.
“Okay,” Neil said. A deal.
“Yes or no?”
Neil said yes, always yes, and Andrew pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Andrew cupped the back of Neil’s head as they lowered more onto the roof, so he wasn’t scraping against gravel, and Neil felt warm straight down to his toes.
Maybe this was nothing, but it was more than Neil had ever had. That was enough for him.
------------------------------
Neil stared at himself in the mirror.
He didn’t usually do this. He wasn’t sure why today was different. One week after his conversation with Andrew, and things were mostly back to normal. It was Neil, really, who still didn’t understand these feelings curling behind his breastbone. But that was fine— no need to make it Andrew’s problem.
He had just come back from a run and normally, Neil would strip down, shower quickly, and pad back into the living room with the hope of making Andrew watch an Exy rerun with him.
Now, though, he stared at himself in the mirror of the dorm room.
Not at his face— Neil wasn’t that much of a masochist. But at his body. The brutality mapped out across it. Tire iron, gunshot wounds, knives, burns. Roland’s smooth, unblemished skin flashed in his mind and Neil ran a hand across his chest. It was textured and rough.
Andrew never seemed like he minded Neil’s scars, but Neil knew they were— grotesque. Jarring. Andrew had scars of his own, of course. Neil had brushed his lips over them once and Andrew had fisted his hand through Neil’s curls, tilted his head up, and said I hate you before crashing their lips together.
Andrew had scars, but Neil’s were…
He could understand. Wanting to look at a body that wasn’t so mangled, that wasn’t a reminder of violence at every turn.
“Vanity is a nasty habit.”
Neil jolted, spinning around to see Andrew leaning in the doorway. His arms were crossed, pale biceps flexed, and he was staring at Neil with a weighted look in his eyes. Neil had the insane urge to cover himself, even though Andrew had already seen it all.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Andrew’s voice was pleasant, but there was tension running underneath it.
“I’m pretty sure out of all the sins, vanity isn’t the worst one.” Neil tipped his head to the side, considering. “Maybe wrath.”
“Not what I meant, rabbit. Jocks aren’t meant to be philosophers.”
Neil grinned. “I thought you wanted me to talk about more than Exy.”
“I want you honest.” Andrew stepped forward, arms dropping to his sides. “I don’t trust the thoughts that run around your head unsupervised, Abram. They not only tend to be wrong, but idiotic.”
Neil rolled his eyes, even as he felt his shoulders tense. There was no way he was unloading this on Andrew. Andrew’s job wasn’t coddling Neil and his insecurities. Neil could take care of himself.
“I need to take a shower. Exy, after?”
Andrew opened his mouth, closed it. Neil had never seen Andrew look so— Neil wasn’t even sure what the emotion was.
“You owe me ice cream,” Andrew finally said.
“Grocery store, then Exy,” Neil amended.
He slipped into the bathroom and showered fast, trying to ignore the feeling of his own skin beneath his hands.
------------------------
The secret was out.
Neil wasn’t sure what was worse— that the Foxes all knew, or that Allison had caught them. The blonde was being insufferable about it, now. Really, Andrew and Neil had no one to blame but themselves. They were at a team movie night and Neil had gone into the kitchen to grab some snacks, Andrew trailing in behind him.
One thing led to another led to Neil pushed up against the fridge with Andrew’s tongue inside his mouth. They thought it would be fine, since all the Foxes were distracted by some too-bright movie about a girl and her stepbrother, but apparently not.
“You owe me a hundred dollars,” Allison chirped over to Matt, smug.
Neil and Andrew were standing, dealing with the fallout. Andrew was a tense line beside him, and Neil felt his own shoulders rise up in response.
“I can’t believe this.” Matt threw up his hands and looked at Neil in betrayal. “Why, man? If you like dick, I could have set you up with—“
“I don’t swing,” Neil corrected.
The room looked slightly mystified at that, but Neil didn’t bother explaining. He wanted to get away somewhere he could talk to Andrew. Preferably with a cigarette.
“I think it’s great,” Renee said, a smile only for Andrew. “This has been a long time coming.”
Andrew flicked his fingers in the sunshine woman’s direction, a clear fuck off.
“This better not fuck with our game,” Kevin said. Nicky punched his shoulder.
Allison laughed. “If anything, it will help because Andrew will want to help his boyfriend from the—“
“Not his boyfriend,” Neil cut in.
The room fell silent.
“Uh…” Allison blinked. “Pretty sure I know what I—“
“Not his boyfriend,” Neil stressed again. His nerves had been fraying these past couple of weeks, and they finally snapped. “And I know everyone thinks they’re somehow beholden to information about me, but you’re not. I don’t swing, he’s not my boyfriend, and I’m not taking any fucking questions. Also— they have terrible fashion choices in that movie and the blonde and her stepbrother are clearly going to get together so I don’t know why I have to sit through an hour pretending that they’re not.”
Neil finished his tirade and didn’t spare a glance for anyone before shoving out of the room, heading up to the roof. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Andrew was following. Once the cool night air hit him, Neil felt the fire in his veins cool a little bit. The cigarette Andrew passed him helped, too.
Neil was still too fired up to sit down, so he paced small lines back and forth while Andrew leaned against the wall and watched.
“Fuck them,” Neil spat. “Fuck Allison. You didn’t want them to know and now they all do and—“
“I don’t care.”
The sentence stopped Neil in his tracks and he looked up. Andrew’s expression was impassive.
“I don’t care that they know,” Andrew repeated. He tilted his head to the side, studying Neil. “Do you?”
Neil blinked, on uneven footing. “No?”
“Are you asking me, rabbit?”
Neil scowled and repeated, “No. But you cared. It was— a boundary.”
“I care about nothing.”
Neil flung up his hands. “Okay, fine. But you didn’t want them to know.”
“Didn’t,” Andrew said, taking a long drag. “I do now.”
Neil took a minute to process that. Was that why— Andrew had been the one to initiate in the kitchen. And while he hadn’t seem exactly happy Allison had interrupted, he hadn’t seemed upset, either.
“Okay…” Neil frowned, confused. “Why?”
Andrew looked at Neil like he was dense. “I called you a pipe dream. But you’re here. You’re not leaving.”
It wasn’t a question, but Neil felt like he had to confirm anyway.
“I’m not.”
Andrew stepped forward, grasping Neil’s chin with firm fingers.
“You’re mine, Abram. They should know.”
Neil felt a soft breath leave him. This wasn’t anything new. Neil had known he was Andrew’s for a while now.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, rabbit?”
“Yes,” Neil breathed.
He was Andrew’s, same as before, except now everyone knew it. Neil would hold onto this for as long as Andrew would allow it, cup these beautiful moments in his hands to save for when Andrew inevitably met someone else. Someone normal. Someone who deserved the title of boyfriend or everything-- or even just something.
Neil was Andrew’s, but Andrew wasn’t his.
He was okay with that.
-----------------------------
They were at Eden’s again. Neil was trying to act like it wasn’t bothering him, but his skin was itching and everything felt wrong wrong wrong. Neil knew what this meant. Andrew would be going off with Roland again tonight, doing things with him he could never do with Neil— like tying him up, or running hands over soft skin.
Neil tried to act as normal as possible, but it was very, very clear he was failing.
“My guy,” Matt said from next to him, eyes already hazy. “You are practically vibrating out of your skin. Sure you don’t want a drink?”
“No,” Andrew answered for him. He hated when people tried to push Neil’s drinking boundaries, even if it was the Foxes.
“I’m good.” Neil reached up to pat Matt on the shoulder. “Pretty sure Dan wants you to dance with her, though.”
The smile that overtook Matt’s face was blinding, and it took him two seconds to bound into the crowd and wrap himself around Dan. Dan laughed, leaning back into him, and they swayed slowly— completely ignoring the upbeat, techno music. Neil watched them with a fond smile.
Andrew’s fingers tapping in his line of vision brought Neil’s attention back.
“Nightmare?” Andrew asked.
Neil lifted a shoulder. “Just a bad night.”
Andrew studied Neil’s expression. “We can go back. Let them call a taxi.”
Neil shook his head, feeling that sick feeling in his stomach. If he started to let Andrew coddle him, that would only serve to drive the blonde away faster. Neil knew he had to prepare himself for that day, but he wasn’t ready yet. Not yet.
“I’m good,” Neil said, avoiding the f-word. “This is fun.”
Andrew gave him a disbelieving look and Neil laughed. Okay, fun was the wrong word too.
Silence stretched between them, soft and comfortable. Some guy came up and tried to talk to Neil, but the minute he caught sight of Andrew he was backing away with a pale face. Neil wasn’t sure what Andrew had done, because he was too distracted by Andrew pressing up against his side, throwing a heavy arm around his hip, and taking half of Neil’s weight against himself.
A year ago, Neil would have laughed if someone told him he would ever feel this safe in public. Now, he toyed with the fingers at his hip and melted against Andrew, liking the solidness of him. Neil was an inch or two taller, but Andrew was broader and could easily carry Neil.
Everything felt warm and stretchy and light, so it was especially jarring, like a knife against his throat, when Andrew pressed a mouth against Neil’s ear to say I need to get a drink refill.
Neil lurched away before he could stop himself, a chill working over his body.
Andrew stilled.
“I just—“ Neil swallowed hard. This is nothing. “How long?”
Andrew raised his eyebrows slightly. “However long it takes to make it, rabbit.”
Neil was sweating now. He hands were tingling and this reaction was not proportionate. Neil had been on the run for years. He had been shot and tortured and almost killed. He should not be feeling so— so awful at the thought of Andrew with someone else. It wasn’t fair to Andrew, who had been so clear about his boundaries, about what he did and didn’t want.
“How long after?” Neil asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Just so I don’t— don’t worry.”
“What.” Andrew’s voice was flat.
“I know there’s not an exact time with these things, just—“ Neil waved a hand. “Like, an hour? Or maybe text me so I know you’re safe.”
“Abram.” Andrew’s stare was sharp, his mouth a hard line. “What are you talking about?”
“You and—“ Neil couldn’t say the name. He had to. “Roland.”
Andrew went so still it was almost as if time stopped.
“Me and Roland,” he said slowly.
“Yeah,” Neil nodded, miserable. He was handling this miserably.
“I said I wouldn’t do that again. I said you were mine.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. You telling me.” Neil gestured between them, trying to encompass the conversation with a hand movement. “I know I’m being horrible about it, but I’d rather know so I don’t think you were kidnapped or something. I mean it.”
Andrew was staring at Neil like he had grown two heads.
“Abram.”
Neil knew he went wrong somewhere in the conversation, but he didn’t know where and it was killing him. Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why did he have to ruin the things around him? Neil curled in on himself a little, fighting the desperate urge to run. That would only make this worse.
“We’re going home,” Andrew said, the expression in his eyes storming, even as the rest of his face was impassive.
“I really don’t mind—“
“Shut up.” Andrew flicked his fingers. “I knew your thoughts couldn’t go unsupervised. We’re leaving.”
Neil shut up and followed behind him. The other Foxes would have to get cabs back, but Neil couldn’t worry about that now. He slid into the passenger seat with the awareness that he was ruining Andrew’s night by being the feral human that he was. He should have just smiled when Andrew said he was going to get another drink, shoved anything else down.
They drove in silence, but it wasn’t soft this time. Tension thrummed between them and Neil knew this was it. He wasn’t aware you could lose nothing, but the proof of it was happening right in front of his eyes.
Andrew pulled up to the Columbia apartment and they trudged inside. Andrew turned around once they were inside, his fingers twitching.
“Explain to me,” he said, voice taut. “What you think this is. What me and Roland are.”
“We’re nothing,” Neil obediently said. “And you and Roland are… the same, probably? I don’t know. I’m sure it feels nice to be with someone who isn’t so fucked up and scarred, so I—“
“Stop talking.”
Neil had never heard Andrew’s voice like this and it shut him up immediately. Andrew was standing in front of him, fists curled at his sides, an expression on his face Neil had never seen before. When Andrew finally did speak, his voice was low.
“I said you were mine.”
“Yes, I am,” Neil confirmed, desperate to get some solid footing underneath him. “I don’t— I don’t understand, Drew. I’m trying… I’ve never done this before. Any of it. I swear I’m trying to be normal about it, but I don’t know how it works.” Neil wanted to stop talking, he really, really did. But the words he had pushed behind his teeth for the past month finally came flooding out, and all Neil could do was float above himself and watch in horror.
“I know this is nothing but to me it’s— everything. Too much and not enough all at once and I’m trying to be normal about it but I don’t know how. All I know is I’m yours until you get bored of me. And I don’t care if… if you’re with other people. I get it.” Stop talking stop talking stop talking. “I know the scars are bad and you can’t hold my wrists for too long and the nightmares. I know I’ll never be normal enough to— to be a boyfriend, but I don’t need to be. I’m happy with this. With whatever you give me.”
Neil finished, finally, and felt more wrung out than he ever had. Neil could do surviving and stitching up gunshot wounds, but he clearly had no idea how to do this. It left him feeling achingly tired. It left him missing his mom and his old life, which he hadn’t felt for a while. But at least there, he knew the rules.
“Abram.” Andrew took a step forward, and then another, until he was in Neil’s space. Only a foot away, but it felt like miles. Neil had ruined this. He had held on for as long as he could, and it wasn’t nearly long enough.
“You were a pipe dream. Something I couldn’t have. You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs, or to disappear.”
Neil said nothing. He couldn’t.
“But you weren’t. You didn’t.” Andrew moved closer. He reached out, brushing a thumb over Neil’s cheek as if checking he was real. Neil couldn’t help but lean into it. “You stayed and I hated it. I hate knowing that you could break me, after all I’ve done to make sure no one ever could. Easily.”
“I wouldn’t,” Neil swore. The mere thought was abhorrent.
Andrew swiped his thumb again, gently, gently. His amber eyes were like a solid weight Neil could feel against his skin.
“I know.”
Neil curled closer to Andrew. If he was touching him, maybe this meant it wasn’t over. Not yet.
“I held something beautiful in my hands, and all I wanted to do was break it.” Andrew’s tone was flat, but his eyes said everything. They always did. “I don’t do regrets, but I won’t do that again. Do you understand?”
Maybe. Yes. No.
Neil squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He wanted to whisper sorry if he wasn’t pretty sure that would only make Andrew angry.
“New deal,” Andrew said. Neil listened to the steady thrum of his voice. “No Roland. No anyone. I’m yours, Neil.”
Neil’s eyes flared open, something bursting behind his chest.
“There hasn’t been anyone since that time,” Andrew continued, cupping Neil’s chin and forcing his gaze on him— as if Neil could look away. “I don’t want there to be anyone. I’ll spell it out since your learning curve is a horizontal line, Abram— I hate that your sharp edges fit mine so perfectly. I hate that you stayed when everyone leaves. I hate that you understand promises, and I hate that I broke one to you.”
Neil opened his mouth to protest, but Andrew didn’t let him.
“Whatever this is, it’s not nothing. It never has been.” Andrew pressed forward, his grip firm. “I’ll learn to hold the beautiful thing in my hand with the care it deserves. Okay?”
“Okay,” Neil’s voice was shaky. “What— what does this mean?”
Andrew’s idiot was fond, and Neil found the predictability of it relaxed his muscles.
“You need a label, don’t you,” Andrew said, mostly to himself, swiping a thumb over Neil’s bottom lip. His stare was considering. “It means you’re my boyfriend, rabbit. Mine.”
Neil’s chest felt full to breaking. “And— you’re mine.”
“Yours,” Andrew confirmed, gaze going darker. He slipped his other hand under Neil’s shirt, fingers gliding over his scars. “Every beautiful part of you that I hate. It’s mine.”
Neil let Andrew lead him to the bedroom and lay him out on the bed. He watched with wide eyes as Andrew re-mapped every single one of his scars, lips whisper soft against them and words even softer. Andrew took Neil apart with ease until they were both sweaty and wrung out, before he threaded their fingers together. His, Neil said to himself in his mind, his boyfriend. Boyfriend still felt strange, too little for what Andrew was to Neil, but his felt right. It felt like absolution. In the dark of the night, just as Neil was drifting, Andrew softly said it’s everything for me, too.
And maybe it would be awhile before Andrew’s own scars let him admit that in the daylight, but that was okay with Neil. He had always preferred the night, anyway.