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It’s a Friday when it happens. Andrew has always hated Fridays. The day before the weekend, he doesn’t have to walk the next day, two days for bruises to heal, Fridays were always the worst.
Neil has never much liked Fridays either. They always seemed to switch cities on Fridays. His father was born on a Friday. His parents were married on a Friday. Fridays, he’s learned, suck far more than a typical day of the week. He’s learned to expect the worst from them. Still, somehow, the worst didn’t entail waking up at 2 a.m. to Andrew’s sharp breathing and the solid thud of his fist slamming rather ineffectually into the wall and the quiet curse that followed at the unexpected but fierce pain.
Nightmares aren’t the same for them.
For Neil, they’re loud. They’re bright lights, and sharp laughter, and burning, slicing, cutting, pain, pain, pain. Neil wakes from his nightmares with a loud shout and a jerk most nights. It only happens when he’s alone now. When he was on the run he used to wake up still, because he knew he had to, the weight in the bed behind him meant something different than it does now.
Now, Neil feels safe enough to be afraid. To wake up and let the fear bleed into the world so he’s forced to talk about it. So Andrew knows his slow days aren’t his fault, but Neil’s. And some days, when Neil can’t talk about it, he doesn’t need to, because Andrew already knows.
Andrews, are different. Andrew asked Neil to sit in on a session with Bee once. He said he thought Neil deserved an explanation, so Neil went because Andrew asked, and before they went in he asked, and he took the yes for what it was.
Andrew talked about the nightmares, and felt more raw after than he usually did. He told Bee and Neil, that his nightmares are too quiet. They’re dark rooms, and soft sheets, and a hand over his mouth, and his wrists, and his legs are pinned, and his hips are bruising, and he aches, aches, aches.
When Andrew wakes from his nightmares, he’s silent, because he can’t make noise, or Cass will send him away. He’s violent, because he can’t feel this anymore, not another day, please, just not another day. And he hates himself for using that word but it feels like it’s all that will work anymore even though it never did and then, Neil.
Neil who listens. Neil who hears the ‘no’ and the ‘please’ and the ‘stop’ and actually listens. Neil who lets go when Andrew asks. Neil who has literally been inside Andrew one second and left the room without a question five seconds later because Andrew needed him to. Neil, who Andrew hates, because no one has ever listened, and it makes his chest ache that Neil does. Neil, who Andrew is starting to think that maybe he hates, because it’s easier than trying to figure out if it’s love, because he’s never felt it before.
And just, really just Neil. Neil fucking Josten.
And when Neil wakes up screaming, Andrew tells him just that. He’s only Neil, not Nathaniel, and he’s here, and he’s okay, and no, not Lola, Neil, it’s Andrew, remember? And then he’s crying, crying, crying. Andrew lets him. No one ever let Andrew cry, and Neil deserves everything neither of them ever got.
And when Andrew wakes up swinging, Neil moves without asking. He slips out of bed, and always knows to go to the floor, or the door, and when to do which. Neil, who completes him too well. And loves him too well. And holds him too well. And is too good for Andrew. But Andrew’s never been selfish, and just this once he wants to be.
So he says, “I think I might love you,” like it means anything to either of them. Like it’s anything either of them could ever understand, or know for sure. Like it’s something either of them have ever felt before.
And for just a moment, Andrew thinks that maybe he did what he always seems to do, and takes it further than everyone else can handle. That his lines are after theirs and he’s just crossed a boundary he didn’t notice drawn in the dirt.
And then Neil says, “I’ve never been in love, but I think I might love you too,” like maybe it means something to him too.
Andrew should really learn to stop thinking Neil is ever going to be less than he expects. He never is. He’s two people, and not just a love but an obsession with Exy, and makes not just friendships but families. He’s Neil Josten.
And isn’t that something so beautiful, Andrew doesn’t think he can handle it. But he’s going to fucking try his hardest. And in a shitty dorm room in Fox Tower at a subpar college in South Carolina, Andrew Minyard lets himself want something.
He doesn’t entirely hate the feeling, so long as he’s wanting this.
Wanting Neil.