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Day2-Secrets; Quiet Truths and Secrets
Neil and Andrew both hate secrets. Secrets usually led to disappointment or disillusionment.
They had open secrets, though. The kind that they never said out loud, but that they both knew, acknowledged without pause or judgement.
They were both made up with kinks and flaws. Operating together, within those flaws was how they found their home.
Their apartment was small but put together by both of them. The bed was against the wall in the bedroom so Neil could face the entire room when he would wake from nightmares, as infrequent as they had become since they’d last moved.
Andrew’s side of the closet was completely black but the lighting in the small space was bright to help him tell the articles apart. The drawers of Neil’s dresser were crammed with comfortable joggers and long-sleeved shirts.
The nightstand, by the bed, had a small drawer at the top where Neil’s gun and Andrew’s knives were kept. They had never used them while living here, but the idea of them was more comforting then the reality in the early hours of the morning.
The laundry room just off the kitchen, was large, with a basket by the washer designated for their exy gear.
The coffee pot, on the counter was new. Recently replaced, and clean. Some mornings, deep in the winter, the sound of it was the only thing capable of dragging Andrew out of bed.
Their secrets were not loud, dramatic or painful anymore. They’d had enough years of being scared and prickly.
The biggest secret of Neil and Andrew was that they no longer had any secrets. They had a life built on quiet truths and secrets they didn’t name.