Work Text:
The truth is that Neil never knew who they were.
Because knowing who you are is almost as scary as being known and they have never fancied either uncertainty.
Neil hadn’t been themself for a long time. They didn’t know how to be themself, or what being themself really meant. Every time they tried to search for, to settle down, to sow their own identity, they only fell deeper down the rabbit hole. Every time it was like—
I’ve fallen into another trap of who I think I'm meant to be
Even their own reflection could never stick around for long.
Blonde and hazel eyed. Brunette and scar lines. Raven hair and too. many. lies.
As long as the Butcher doest find me, as long as no one can find me—
The irony is that it’s not hard for Neil to confess to what they’ve done. The crimes they carried out, the sins they committed. A dark, empty void in them even enjoyed their trespasses.
The truth is I kinda loved my life as a reckless sinner
The struggle is in admitting to themself who they are. What they want. They’ve never wanted so badly before and even then, they’re not sure if a shapeshifter like them deserved to hide forever.
Andrew found Neil regardless.
That’s the frustration with hunters. They’re so damn stubborn, so unbothered. They’ll search and burn right through until they unearth what they want to find.
Andrew found Neil between the hidden crevices and valleys that make up the Garden of Eden, a nightclub in central L.A. Neither should have been there, but then again—
The truth is I still don't feel like I fit in anywhere
—when do shapeshifters and hunters ever remain where they belong?
The truth is I'm looking for myself and I can't see it in anybody.
In the faces of Neil’s fellow dancers, Neil searched for their own source of validation. The men and women around Neil had eyes like their own and grins like their’s, but Neil couldn’t find any resemblance to their own humanity.
Maybe they were getting soft. After all, why should Neil care to be like those people, so simple and safe and warm in their innocence?
When Andrew first saw Neil, Andrew wanted to kill the fallen angel with bright eyes and cold skin.
Neil thought it funny. Only one look at the man and Neil knew they weren’t making it out of that club alive. At least not before drowning in the embrace of another damaged soul.
Andrew danced like he wanted to eat the world raw.
“Tell me a secret,” Andrew had murmured to Neil as they rocked together, not touching but so irredeemably close.
“I don’t have any,” Neil had answered. It was the first truth they admitted aloud. A beast who lies to even itself can’t possibly nurture something as personal as secrets.
“I don’t believe you,” Andrew had said.
Flashing lights and low whispers, pounding bass and overflowing drinks. Neil told Andrew, “I don’t usually, either.”
“Tell me what you do believe, then,” Andrew conceded. “Tell me a truth.” His hands moved to touch Neil’s shoulders and Neil felt like something was starting, something brewing deep inside. Dark and dangerous and real and right and it terrified Neil.
Tell me a truth but Neil wasn’t sure if there were any left. They could give their name but that would be dangerous; a number, but Neil didn’t have one. That’s not what Andrew was looking for, anyway, despite his interested gaze and stubborn, verbal demands.
The truth is I feel less okay than I thought I was—
Andrew pulled closer and guided Neil’s hands into Andrew’s hair and they’re close, they’re so damn close and the others were oceans further from them and Neil couldn't remember the last time a hunter got so near.
The truth is I'm still lost—
Neil was never certain of much in their life but they knew without a doubt that when Andrew’s lips grazed their own, Neil would never need air again. Neil was content to die, suffocated on their own glorious undoing.
The truth is cold like frost—
But Andrew is so painfully warm, burning his way through Neil’s psyche until Neil can’t feel anything but the merciless heat. Their lips found each other again and Neil realized they were wrong before because this is real, this is the only true thing they’ve ever had and Neil doesn’t want to let it slip through their fingers so easily.
“You never answered me,” Andrew said when he pulled back. Neil blinked, not sure whether it was the lights or the halo around Andrew that was so blinding. They wondered if Andrew would be merciful enough to kiss them one last time before delivering the death blow.
“I don’t want to lie to you,” Neil had said. “But I don’t know what else there is." Andrew dragged Neil off the dance floor then, hunter’s instincts kicking into full gear. Drinks were ordered and Neil didn’t have a chance to tell Andrew that they didn’t drink before their lips were crashing together again, all force and depth and sincerity.
This time, when they broke apart, traces of Neil’s lipstick lingered on the blonde’s own lips. Neil’s traitorous heart stuttered at the sight.
“Sorry,” they murmured and raised a hand to Andrew’s lips to thumb away the stain. Andrew grabbed Neil’s wrist, aborting the movement.
“Why?”
The truth is living by gender makes me feel annoyed.
But that wasn’t the question. “People get pissed easily,” Neil had laughed off, not sure if anything about the situation was even funny. “ I didn’t want to…” “Upset me?” Andrew’s voice was bored and Neil thought it was over. That Andrew would grab his drink that the bartender just sat down and walk away, back into the thicket to hunt for newer, more interesting prey. But Andrew did none of that save for take a long sip of the cherry red substance he ordered. It stained his lips the same as Neil’s lipstick and Neil found themself envying the damn liquid.
“You’re not worth feeling bad over,” Andrew continued. He watched Neil watch him over the rim of his glass, eyes flashing knowingly. “What’s your name, little fox?”
Neil eyed their own drink to avoid the hunter’s gaze.
The truth is that…
After waging an interior war, Neil told Andrew. Even looking away, they didn’t miss the hitch in Andrew’s chest before Andrew stilled, absorbing the lie.
The truth is…
“You don’t look like a—“
“I know.”
Neil made up their mind and ignored the temptation of the drink. They met Andrew’s eyes, knowing the hunter heard the untruth. Anyone could potentially recognize the title of the Butcher’s child and Neil just couldn’t risk that.
The truth is I can't lie to you
But it’s the only thing I know how to do.
“Is there a problem?” Neil asked. They both knew damn well there was one but Neil wondered what Andrew would say.
But: “No,” Andrew stated easily. “I don’t give a shit who you are.”
Neil thought it interesting that they both could be such bad liars. Because Andrew cared more than Neil could ever have expected. Not that Andrew would ever admit. Old habits die hard, etc.
Neil had been on the run for far too long but the second the hunter crossed their path, they didn’t want to run anymore.
This kind of feels like starting again.
When morning arrives, Neil would run regardless. They always did. But for now, just them and Andrew in sea of a hundred nobodies, Neil was content to not have to know everything except for the warmth of Andrew against their own permafrost.
I don’t know who I am but maybe one day I’ll start to.
For once, it’s not a lie.