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“I don’t do apologies.”
“Did I ask you to?”
Andrew crossed his arms, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. Neil looked up from his blank paper. A pencil dangled between two of his fingers, a Spanish textbook was open to the glossary beside him. Scrap paper, littered with numbers and equations, fell out from the textbook.
“Do you want me to?”
It was late. Dark outside, the sun already retired for the day. The ceiling light was off and the blinds were shut. The white light from Neil’s phone’s flashlight illuminated the desk and half of Neil’s face.
“Why should I?” Neil tapped the pencil on the desk and stared back at Andrew.
Andrew pushed away from the door and flicked on a light. Neil hissed at the brightness as Andrew threw on the first sweatshirt he found. The dorm was cold. Blankets were thrown around the bedroom and common area, different Palmetto sweatshirts were strewn across various pieces of furniture.
“I’m not going to apologize to you.”
Neil shrugged and flipped his textbook open to a page of reading. “I don’t want an apology.”
“I meant what I said.”
“I know.”
Somewhere in the night, raccoons were fighting. Somewhere, a group of students stumbled back to their own dorms. Somewhere, Kevin was drinking heavily and loudly explaining to Matt the tedious details of the fall of an empire. In their dorm, Andrew tugged the sweater and frowned at the white 10, followed by Josten , sitting on his chest.
“I don’t regret any of it.”
Neil yawned. “I know.”
“I don’t feel bad.”
“Neither do I.”
Somewhere in time, a little kid was lost and confused, hiding in the corner of a sterile room, replaying the angry screams of a faceless adult. Somewhere in time, a slightly older kid was blinking back the reflexive tears and holding the side of his face, the remainder of his own yelled arguments balanced on the edge of his tongue. Somewhere in time, Andrew was older and knew better than to react at all to the words of an argument. In their dorm, Andrew curled his hands into fists and held on to the protection of Neil’s sweatshirt.
Neil looked up from his work,--- the page was still blank and his pencil hadn’t moved--- “That looks nice on you.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.” Momentarily, Neil’s eyes burned with a humorless smile that didn’t reach his lips. “You didn’t stab me, or shoot me. Or even press a hot iron into my shoulder.”
A half full bottle of water sat on Kevin’s nightstand. Andrew imagined an earthquake, subtle enough to not disturb the lives of those rushing through life, but just enough to be known to those paying attention.
“Are you mad?” Neil asked.
“No. You didn’t throw me into a wall.” You didn’t hold me down until I couldn’t breathe, you didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t. There were too many ways to finish that sentence. Andrew settled on the simplest one.
A door opened and closed, slamming loudly enough to be heard in the bedroom of a dorm floating through the universe in its own bubble of space and time. Neil’s eyes snapped to the noise then settled back on Andrew. Andrew bristled but didn’t shy away.
“What are you, then?”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“If you aren’t mad, what are you?”
“Numb.”
“Wrong.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “ ‘Wrong’ ?”
Neil nodded. “Your chest isn’t as much of a hollow void as you want me to believe it is, Minyard. Don’t be fool enough to think I don’t know that.”
Andrew wanted to be angry. He wanted to have the strength to leave with the door slamming behind him and sit on the rooftop until up was down and down was up. But Neil had a gravitational force of his own that never relented. “Tell me what you are.”
Neil considered for a moment. His eyes closed and fingers twitched. A muscle in his jaw tensed then relaxed. “Happy, I suppose.”
“Why.”
“You’re here. I don’t have to spend the night on the search for makeup to cover new bruises and cuts and bullet wounds. There’s no expectation to take back truths for the sake of soothing a hurt ego or mending a bond that’s too weak to hold the meaningless weight of a disagreement.” His smile didn’t reach his lips but it burned a hole straight through Andrew’s self respect. “You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”
Tentatively, Andrew moved until he was standing close enough to make Neil look up at him. Neil’s legs spread and he held out a hand as an invitation for Andrew to step closer. He did. “I don’t like you.”
“I know.” Neil didn’t raise his hands or pull Andrew closer by the loose fabric of his sweatshirt. “Truth for a truth. Humor me, will you?”
Gravitational pulls, truths that turned into honesty, looks and touches that morphed into something called desire before Andrew had the time to fully realize. Andrew’s hands on Neil’s shoulder and Neil’s knees knocking against Andrew’s before disappearing.
“I’m not happy.”
“I don’t expect you to be.”
“Why are you happy?”
“I thought I already answered that.” Andrew wasn’t sure when disgust for physical contact had turned into a need to feel Neil’s weight beneath his hands. Worse, he wasn’t sure when the thought of Neil’s hands resting on his arms, his waist, his hips had started to make his skin flush. “I’m happy because this is more than I ever imagined possible.”
“And you’re so sure this isn’t a dream?”
“A dream is a strange universe where birds sing with haunting voices and grass flourishes under steady downpours of blood.”
“A nightmare?”
“If this were a nightmare, I wouldn't be able to feel your pulse. You’d be cold and dead and the world would be on fire.” He took one of Andrew’s hands in his own and lightly pulled at the end of an armband. When Andrew nodded, Neil pressed a finger to the steady beating pulse in Andrew’s wrist. “You’re warm and I can feel your heartbeat. The world is cold and quiet.”
Hands, warm and steady and gentle. Calloused and scarred, a map of atrocities. Andrew wasn’t sure when those hands had given up their act of aggression and slipped into reverent means of taking Andrew apart piece by piece until all that was left was an unguarded display of trust. Andrew wasn’t sure when he had stopped missing Neil’s grasping and pulling and fell for the heady experience of allowing someone to kiss him until control meant nothing.
I want to see you lose control .
“I don’t know what I feel.”
“Okay.”
“I’m tired.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I’m cold.”
Neil hummed and rubbed circles into the palm of Andrew’s hand. He massaged the tension, digging into the muscle of his palm.
“I want you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
When had their shared space broken off from the linear timeline? When had just barely brushing the edges of honesty become more difficult than being entirely clear? When had sharing a space, a room, a bed, a heart with someone become so appealing?
Andrew huffed and took both of Neil’s hands, placing them on his hips. “Like that, jackass.”
“You look nice in this.” He shoved his hands under the hem of the sweatshirt. Andrew leaned in closer, arms falling back to Neil’s shoulders. Neil’s hands were cool against his skin. “Have I told you that?”
“Too many times.”
“You like it.”
Arguments meant screaming and yelling and apologies that ended with more pain than the yelling. Disagreements consisted of blood and cold, gripping distance. Never had Andrew considered the existence of an argument that could possibly have anything to do with cool hands and warm sweatshirts.
“120%, keep it up and you’ll be at 140.”
“I’m beginning to suspect you have a lying streak, Drew.” Neil was running his thumb back and forth over the bare skin of Andrew’s sides.
Andrew tangled one hand in Neil’s hair, the other fit against Neil’s neck. The base of his palm pressed just firmly enough to feel the thumbing of Neil’s heart. “Say it again.”
“Say what?”
“That you’re happy.” Tell me that you’re happy here with me. Tell me I’m enough. Tell me, tell me, tell me .
Neil blinked. “Can I move my hand up your back and pull you closer, yes or no?”
Andrew nodded and Neil’s hand slid up his back, pulling Andrew closer until Neil’s chin was propped against his ribcage.
“Can I wrap my other arm around your waist, yes or no?”
Again, Andrew nodded. His elbows dug into Neil’s shoulders but Neil didn’t complain. The chair pushed against Andrew’s knees awkwardly but Neil was looking up at him like the world stopped existing. And the world did stop existing. Nothing beyond the depth of Neil’s eyes and the intense feeling of safety in Neil’s touch existed.
“I’m happy, Andrew.” If Neil could feel the rapid beating of Andrew's heart, he was smart enough to leave that unsaid. “I’m happy here having stupid arguments with you and not apologizing and being trusted enough to hold you even after we argue. I’m happy going to bed too late and waking up too early to hear Kevin bitching about our chances this year.
“I’m happy crawling into a shitty bed with shitty blankets night after night because this gets to be my home. I’m happy crawling into your shitty bed with your shitty blankets because then this gets to be my home.” He taps a finger against Andrew’s shoulder blade in time with the rhythm of his heart.
The lines between realities were too blurred. Specifics from any timeline were smudged. The point in time that marked Andrew’s surrender to Neil’s sentimentality was an unknown. He bit the inside of his lip and huffed. “I hate you.”
Neil was smiling. Just with his eyes. “I know, love.”
“Stay with me tonight, yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need you reassuring me after a fight.”
“Who said you did?”
“I don’t need you.”
“But you want me.”
I want you. I want you to hold me close. I want you to invite yourself into my heart and call it your home. I want you to kiss me and hold my hand until we fall asleep. I want you to keep proving that you love me.
I want you, I want you, I want you.
“Who said I didn’t?”
“I want you too.”
Andrew leaned down enough to kiss Neil’s forehead. The hum of contentment earned for the gesture was enough to make Andrew’s world quiet. He didn’t pull back and neither did Neil. Andrew’s chin against Neil’s nose and Neil’s breathing skimming along Andrew’s neck.
“Kiss me, yes or no?”
I want you to love me with honey-sweet kisses .
“Yes.”
Happiness was elusive but Neil was contagious. Andrew wasn’t sure when the estranged feeling of warmth snaking between his ribs had reappeared. Maybe it was in time with the smoking burn of icy blue that sunk deep into his bones.
“Stay.”
Stay here forever. Stay wrapped around me until the world ends. Stay tucked into my heart for as long as this can possibly last. Stay.
“I will, Andrew.”
Tell me that you love me in the gentle way you say my name .