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Unfortunately, this tattoo is not his first.
It had taken a good amount of convincing and alcohol in his system for Neil to agree to this, and even when he’s slightly tipsy, his state of mind isn’t so butchered that he’s completely unaware of his actions.
Which is why, when he wakes up in the morning, he’s not surprised to see the small black key that is inked into the inner side of his middle finger.
The room is quiet, meaning both Kevin and Andrew have already woken up for the day. Just to make sure, Neil raises his leg and kicks at the bottom of the higher bunk.
Nothing. Alright, so Andrew’s definitely awake.
His head is fucking aching, though, so he doesn’t really feel like getting up all that much. There are two pills and a glass of water at his bedside table and he downs the water in one go. It’s only after that he realizes he probably should’ve downed the pills too.
His head really fucking hurts.
Neil groans, kicking his blanket off his body. He’s not wearing last night's clothes, thankfully, because they had spent last night in Columbia, meaning Andrew had thrown something slightly uncomfortable at him and Neil had worn it with no complaints.
He’s complaining now, though. Those jeans were so tight. He can feel their imprints on his hips.
Neil swings his legs over the bed, forcing his upper body to cooperate and rise. The skin around his new tattoo is red and it kind of itches, but he doesn’t want to touch it for fear of infection. He’ll search it up later, or go to Abby.
Kevin is waiting for him in the kitchen. His glasses are on, and he’s nursing a coffee instead of a green juice so it’s safe to assume that he also got hammered last night.
“Andrew will be back in a minute,” Kevin says before Neil can ask. “He went to go check on Nicky and Aaron.”
Neil snorts then immediately regrets it; he’s never been this hungover before. Every little movement is another club to the head.
“Coffee?” Kevin offers, nodding his head towards the machine. Neil reaches for a cup gratefully, filling it to the brim and bringing it to his lips.
The caffeine doesn't do much for his head, but at least he can stand without feeling like he’s going to collapse now, so. That’s a start.
They stand in silence for another minute or two. Neil opens his mouth to ask about Andrew again when the door slams open.
Both Neil and Kevin wince at the loud noise. Neil clutches his mug to his chest, tapping out an uneven beat with his fingers in an attempt to drown out the pounding in his head.
Andrew steps into the doorway, a bag of something sweet-smelling in his hands. Neil vaguely notes that he’s wearing one of his old hoodies with a giant fox paw emblazoned onto the front and a large JOSTEN on the back, but he stores the information away for later because there is a man with something cinnamon smelling in front of him, and he knows Kevin is eyeing the bag as eagerly as he is.
He’ll throw a fit if Kevin gets the sweets. Andrew’s wearing his hoodie, after all.
“There’s two in here,” Andrew says, kicking the door closed behind him and waving the bag around. “Vultures,” he mutters.
Neil lunges for the bag as soon as Andrew drops in on the counter, snatching it out of Kevin’s insistent hands.
“Share,” Andrew says idly, before walking into the bedroom.
Neil rips open the bag to two large cinnamon buns. Maybe he’s close to drooling into the bag because Kevin steals it from him, peering inside.
Neil watches as Kevin’s eyes widen, nose wrinkling in disgust. Neil rolls his eyes.
“Just eat it,” Neil says. “Or don’t. I don’t care, just give me the bag.”
“This is disgusting,” Kevin croaks out. “I want it so bad.”
“So have it.” Neil reaches for the bag, but Kevin steps out of his reach.
“Kevin,” Neil all but growls.
Kevin throws the bag back onto the counter. “I’m leaving. If I stay, I’ll eat it.”
“We’ll do extra cardio or something tomorrow,” Neil says. He takes a large bite into the treat and doesn’t think about Kevin shouting profanities at him at the gym.
Kevin hesitates at the door. Andrew walks back into the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow at Kevin as if to say really?
Neil snorts, almost spitting out the startling amount of pastry that he’s managed to stuff into his mouth. The action makes Andrew turn to him. He doesn’t look any more impressed.
Neil hops up onto the counter, resting his head against the cabinets. He swallows, the cinnamon sliding down his throat. He reaches for his coffee, then yelps when it stings his palm.
The skin around his tattoo looks a bit redder, he notices.
“Did you get a tattoo?” Andrew asks.
Neil shrugs. “I guess.”
Kevin scoffs, walking back to him from where he was standing idly in the doorway. He motions for Neil’s hand, taking it gingerly when Neil offers it to him.
“What the fuck.”
Andrew joins them, standing close to Neil and bending over his hand. He inspects the tattoo, running his thumb over it once. He looks to Neil, an indecipherable look on his face that could possibly be mistaken for fondness.
Neil furrows his eyebrows, eyes glancing to the tattoo, then back to Andrew. He understands then, a small grin taking place on his lips.
It’s the key. He doesn’t remember much from last night, but he remembers the tattoo artist showing him sketches of her work, and he remembers pushing the album out of his face and Aaron’s questioning look when he had asked for a small key, somewhere visible but not obvious.
Kevin steps away from them, shaking his head and murmuring something about alcohol and stupidity. As if he has any right, really, but Neil doesn’t dwell on it. He turns his body so that Andrew is between his legs but not trapped. He cocks his head to one side in a question. Andrew nods, stepping closer to him.
Andrew is still clutching his hand, eyes moving from his finger to Neil’s eyes. It’s quiet in the dorm, but it’s not silent. Neil is dreading next year, when both Andrew and Kevin will have moved out. Kevin technically isn’t supposed to be here this year, but with everything that had happened, he decided to take a bit of a gap year with Wymack’s full support. Neil’s not sure if Palmetto is aware that Kevin is still staying at the dorms, but he doesn’t mind the company.
And maybe Neil wasn’t as drunk as he thought he was when getting the tattoo. It’s not for them, him and Andrew, really. More to serve as a reminder that he has a home, even if they’re miles apart.
“Andrew,” Neil says softly. “I’m not going to be able to practice tomorrow. I should’ve gotten it on my left hand.”
He doesn’t mean it. He’ll practice anyways, but he’s learned to translate Andrew’s glares into smiles by now. Andrew is grinning .
“Junkie,” Andrew says, pulling him close.
“Yes,” Neil says, answering Andrew’s unasked question. The tattoo burns on his skin, and it’s a combination of Andrew’s hard touch and something else.
Neil grins into the kiss, at the feeling of Andrew's finger trailing over his. He'll have to talk to Aaron later, make sure he doesn't tell anyone that he really wasn't that drunk last night.
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