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Andrew wasn't angry. He wasn't shouting. He wasn’t crying, of course, he wasn't crying he wouldn’t be Andrew if he was. There were no angry words, no broken cries, no thrown objects. Andrew was the cold, emotionless statue Neil hadn’t seen since they’d picked him up at Easthaven back in college and it made his blood run cold. It was so much worse than any sign of hurt Andrew could have shown.
Neil deserved it. He knew he did.
“I’m sorry,” his words were useless, Andrew didn’t believe in forgiveness. Neil wasn't sure if he wanted it.
He didn't deserve it. He met Andrew’s blank stare with pleading eyes, “I’m sorry,” he couldn't stop saying it. Couldn't stop thinking it.
It hadn't been enough. Andrew hadn't been enough. They hadn’t been enough. There was a time Neil was sure that Andrew was it for him. And a small part of him still believed so. But another part, a more rational part knew that there was a reason he’d done what he’d done.
He was frozen, couldn’t say what he wanted to say, was unable to put his racing thoughts into words. Andrew was frighteningly silent, calm, his eyes dead. Unspoken words hung between them like a cement stone on a drowning man. Andrew didn’t ask why, he didn’t say I loved you more than you loved me he didn’t ask Where did we go wrong?
Neither of them knew the answer.
Their apartment had gone dark, silent, and cold. It used to be a home and now it was just something that once was his.
Once, when he and Andrew were happy, once, before Neil fucked up. When they could cuddle on the couch, with the cats between them. When Andrew could wake up to a Neil who wasn’t a cheater, to soft kisses, to breakfast at noon. When they shared thoughts, fears, jerseys, and home. When they shared their hearts.
A time that would never be again.
A love that once was.
“Leave.”
That word cut deeper than any knife that’d ever broken Neil’s skin. It made his soul bleed, not his flesh.
He deserved it.
He took a step towards the door, stopped, “I’m sorry,” he said again, had to say it again. The words were burning into his skin, a reminder of their past, forever a reminder of this day, of what he had done. A reminder of giving his heart and body to someone else.
He didn’t want to leave, wanted to beg Andrew for forgiveness, wanted to ask him to go back to the start, wanted to feel Andrew’s warm body in his arms and tell him he’d never do it again.
He didn’t.
He didn’t deserve it.
“I’m sorry.”
Neil looked for any sign of life in Andrew’s face and didn’t find one. Andrew hadn’t packed any bags for him but he didn't need any. Neil would be able to get useless shirts and pants everywhere. The only things valuable in this apartment were Andrew and the cats. The only things important to him, and he would leave them behind.
He studied Andrew’s face one last time, tried to memorize it with a heavy chest and tight throat.
Then he moved past him, walked towards the door. He didn’t turn around, Andrew didn’t hold him back.
Neil left and the door closed behind him.