Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Monday

It felt wrong– sort of like Andrew was an actor in a film– to stand behind a counter and do a job that he never imagined he’d do.

Survival does that to you. It cuts out all aspects of life but your own. At some moments, Andrew felt like he was the only person in the world. He stopped thinking about what was beyond his bedroom; never paused to wonder where his food came from or the authors behind the books he read. He was wrapped up in his mind, and when not his mind, his forms of escapism: a cigarette, a stranger’s pair of lips.

Time did its job of graduating him from high school, and his mindless homework did its job of getting him into college, and soon his brother and cousin got them an apartment with a lock on his bedroom door, and eventually, he got himself a job to pass the time he spent not studying.

And soon he discovered there was an art behind everything, and therefore, a world that was waiting for him, just past his front door.

At first, Andrew thought working at a coffee shop would be just another job. But then he learned the many variables to a perfectly brewed cup: water temperature, steeping time, measurements; steps that had been perfected over hundreds of years by countless amounts of coffee-loving experts. People had been doing this long before Andrew existed, and they’d been doing it while he was going through what he was going through, and they would be doing it long after he expired.

As bone-chilling one could take that thought, Andrew found it comforting. It somehow made his thoughts feel small compared to this giant blueprint laid out for something as small as a caffeinated drink. It was strange, but Andrew felt as though the world was a library, with infinite books, countless pages, and an endless amount of words he could learn. He’d been dropped into a small college town, given the history that he was given, and had the world to explore. For the first time in his life, he could take point one percent of a step toward figuring out what he wanted to do with the rest of it. He didn’t shine a light too brightly on this realization, with the fear that it may not be real, but he still held on to the feeling that it brought and summoned it when he felt like everything else was too much.

Andrew does have to fake it most of the time. There’s still that out-of-place, overly aware feeling, as though he’s in an open-world, sandbox video game, but he has no choice but to hope that the particles of his new life will fall into place eventually. No choice but to hope that time oils his movements, so they one day feel right and purposeful.

Anyway, the thoughts are enough. And the coffee is still flowing. The espresso stream comes to a spurting end, splashing brown foam against the inside of the white paper cup.

Andrew’s attention came back to in front of his eyelashes, versus the darkness in his head, and he poured the steamed milk into the cup before lidding it and handing it off.

It goes like that for a while: adding water to americanos, whipped cream to hot chocolates. The buzzing of the cafe and its customers take up most of his senses. It’s only been three months since Andrew started here, at the small, indie coffee shop right off-campus, but he is a fast learner and quick on the bar, so he’s trusted to handle the morning rush of drinks alone.

His shift supervisor, a quiet upperclassman named Renee, is on the register. Her smooth voice is low as she takes orders, hidden behind the music that is too upbeat for this early in the morning. Unfortunately, Andrew knows the tune by now, and can’t help but internally follow along with the words as he works.

His coworker Matt’s voice, on the other hand, is booming, doing a wonderful job at waking up the groggy college students shuffling in line. He greets his regulars and heats their breakfast croissants and berry scones, handing off the paper bags so quickly they’re chewing before they even reach Renee.

Andrew doesn’t mind the two of them. Caution is engraved in his bones at this point, after years of fear and the inability to trust somebody, but he thinks he got lucky to be working with these two.

Matt seemed to be a genuinely decent guy. It was suspicious at first, and Andrew immediately tried to figure out his problem, as the hard truth was that those he felt even slightly at ease around typically had some sort of damage. He figured it out on his second shift when he caught the evidence on Matt’s inner arms. The older man didn’t try to hide the track marks from Andrew and Renee when they’d charge up on coffee and breakfast before opening, but he did pull on a cardigan before the front doors were unlocked. He made light conversation with everyone he met and he liked eye contact, which made Andrew weary at first, but then appreciative at how easy it was to read him.

Renee was more reserved. She hired Andrew at the end of his interview, and not because he knew how to manipulate his way past a hard question. He thought maybe she saw past that, that maybe the armbands he won't take off or cigarette breaks he required held a little more weight in her heart because of the cross necklace she wore. He didn’t mind being liked by her, didn’t mind that she considered him her friend. It wasn’t pity that he saw on her face, but like with Matt, it was understanding. When Andrew got quiet while stocking the fridges or when his hands shook when he gave her a drink to hand off, she only gave him a small smile and never mentioned anything.

There’s the night crew, too. Andrew hasn’t had the displeasure of working with them: a guy named Seth who always had his headphones in and a blonde girl named Allison that looked like she could buy the place. Andrew had only seen them from the windows when he happened to be walking past at night, but he thinks they might be sleeping together. He also thinks there’s a running theme with those who work here, because they don’t seem to add up, either. Allison’s hair and makeup are done for every shift, and her boots cost more money than they’d make in two paychecks. And Seth, with his buzzed head, stretched ears and many dark tattoos fit in with the cafe’s fairy lights and hanging plants as much as Andrew did.

The mid-shift, the woman who holds the cafe up on her back, was their manager, Dan, who Andrew found to be the most unapologetically real of them all. She’s the only one who would dare to criticize his mistakes. She trained him, told him about pour-overs and different bean acidities, and even taught him how to put the perfect amount of pleasant-condescendingness into his voice when a customer was being a complete fuckwad. He’s yet to try it out. Despite her harsh teachings, she also gave a truckload of praise when he perfected his latte art. The compliments made Andrew feel prickly and wobbly, though, so now he usually tries to leave before she gets in.

He’s just made his third chai tea latte in a row, a drink which Andrew has a love-hate relationship with. They smell like autumn and are easy to make, but he’s deemed their drinkers weak for not trying something bolder. The girl he hands it off to has bright red lips that wash her out, and Andrew watches her attempt to shove the drinks into a cardboard holder, only to make sure she doesn’t spill one of them. He decides against helping her after ten seconds of her struggling and goes to finish off the cinnamon latte that followed behind.

Andrew knows he acts in a manner that doesn’t prioritize other people’s comfort. A barely-there, empathetic part of him wants to fill silences or hold his facial features in a nicer way, but he can never bring himself to. He doesn’t have the capacity to care and doesn’t mind feeling that way. Self-preservation is something he’s seen too many people lack and struggle to learn. Most are too sensitive and think the world will end if he doesn’t respond to their “How are you?”s with “Good, thanks. You?” Still, it’s not professional, according to Dan, to ignore them, or say “Do you actually want to know?” so he’ll shrug, or say what most take as a joke, “Depends, do you mean today, or in general?”

A new, growing part of him that showed up in the last three months, that is difficult not to cringe at by the rest of him, wants to get better at his job. At life. He asks Renee and Matt questions about things he doesn’t know. He remembers the regular's orders and has them ready before they pay. He goes to the gym with his pre-med brother and eats less sugar. He’s trying, secretly hoping the routines will stick. His coworkers are patient. His family is consistent. His classes don’t require him to open his mouth too much. His professors spend most of their lessons on lectures, debates, note-taking, or reading. Studying is an act mostly done alone in the library, or in the dim light of his desk lamp, late into the night. Andrew doesn’t do much else. He eats on his prepaid credits, goes to his therapist every Wednesday, and works.

Again– it’s a script he’s acting out, but a weird part of him, (maybe the Andrew that’s standing in the coffee shop right now) is a bit broken, or really broken, and feels some sort of self-sympathy for this inner part of him that’s young. That’s another symptom of survival: dividing yourself up into little parts to understand better because as a whole, it’s a train wreck.

Andrew wants to try for that little part, the one that is so small they can only look up.

Then his throat feels like it’s tightening, and Andrew realizes he’s stopped moving on the bar when Renee says a small, “Hey,” to his left. She keeps her distance, but Andrew still feels crowded in the tight space. Renee must read it on his face. “Wanna head to register for a bit? I got this.”

Andrew wants to head home, actually, but his behavioral therapy shit would tell him to work through it, despite, that panic wasn’t the end of the world and shouldn’t be treated that way. The morning rush must be over because there are no more customers at the register, so Andrew nods.

He steps back to the storeroom to drink some water. Matt’s busy warming what’s left for those waiting, so he only sings the lyrics of the song playing a little louder when Andrew walks by. Thankfully, no one ever asks, “Are you okay?”

They must have been sick of hearing it, themselves.

After reading the warning label on a disinfectant bottle, when the thoughts of a younger Andrew fade from his mind, the cinch around Andrew’s throat finally opens. Air enters his chest easier.

Maybe it was the weather, gloomy and grey, that made this day feel weird from the start, made Andrew more on edge. The register is slow for a while– by now most people are in morning class or at work. Renee heads to the back to do inventory, and Andrew hops between bar and register, taking care of the stray customer, wiping down counters and machines as he prepares for the end of his shift.

Matt’s in the middle of telling him about a show he’s watching, something corny regarding an apocalypse from nuclear bombs when the front door chimes. Andrew’s on his knees, stocking the milk fridge that’s tucked under the bar with plant and dairy products. Matt cheers as he does whenever a regular walks in, and his energy is matched in enthusiasm by the customer, whose voice is muffled from Andrew’s current position.

“Kevin! How’s it going?” Matt asks.

Andrew hears the deep voice move to the register. He gets up and washes his hands, taking his time to mentally prepare for an obviously extroverted person. When he turns around, he sees said Kevin, an unfamiliar face to be so acquainted with Matt. He’s a good-looking guy: tall, heavy brows, light eyes, athletic build. Andrew thinks that if he were looking for a hookup, he may have tried a little. He’s not. Kevin doesn’t seem to be his type, either.

Andrew stands behind the register and waits for the two to finish talking, or for Matt to tell him Kevin’s usual order, which his coworkers usually do when Andrew is still unfamiliar with someone.

“Practice this morning was a shit show. I don’t know why it’s so difficult for the team to work together. It’s like they’re trying to be morons–” Kevin says, further supporting the not-Andrew’s-type ideology he’s settled on. He’s a jock, likes to complain, is impatient, and inconsiderate.

Andrew sighs, settling to ignore him, as well. “Matt, does he order anything? Or does he just like having someone to listen to him speak?”

Maybe that wasn’t appropriate, but Dan wasn’t here to tell him that. Kevin does seem the type to leave a bad review, though, so maybe Andrew would hear from her anyway. Both men turn to look at him, and Matt laughs. Not in an awkward way, either. “Yeah, Kevin spend your money or get out.”

Kevin blinks at Andrew. “You’re new.”

Something about Kevin must really piss Andrew off. That, or he’s just having a shittier day than he realized. Andrew replies, “Great observation.”

For some reason, Kevin smiles. “I’m Matt’s roommate.”

“That’s great,” Andrew says, not liking where this is going, but not surprised at the same time. Apparently, working at Fox Beans or being affiliated with someone who does means Andrew will constantly be unable to control the conversation.

“I’ll have a matcha latte,” Kevin says. “With almond milk.”

Andrew goes to ring him up, “Let me guess, unsweetened?”

Matt laughs, “Bingo. Don’t charge him, I’ll comp it.”

The two keep talking as Matt cleans the pastry case and oven, and Andrew steams the almond milk, aerating the liquid for longer than usual, the loud ripping noise drowning them out. Kevin comes over to get his drink eventually.

“Thanks. What’s your name?” Kevin asks, but it doesn’t seem to carry the usual, “Because I’m going to report you to your manager,” that Andrew used to get when he first started. It just seems genuine. Kevin tries his drink and hums.

“Andrew. I’m new. You’re Kevin, Matt’s roommate.” Andrew says, with a tone saying, “We’ve been over this.” Maybe Andrew should let Renee give him one of those fancy nametags she writes out, to avoid future unnecessary conversations.

Kevin seems to have dropped the arrogant jock act. Andrew is starting to believe maybe his first impression was incorrect. The raven-haired man nods, “Nice to meet you. Thanks for the drink.”

And that doesn’t really require a response, so Andrew goes back to wiping up splattered syrups, and tries not to feel weird about being rude to Matt’s friend. Kevin says bye to Matt, and thankfully the current song playing is a quieter one because Andrew catches a bit of their exchange.

“...reminds me of Neil… going to bring him in tomorrow… see their conversation…”

Matt laughs, “...actually really cool…”

Andrew typically doesn’t care what people have to say about him, but to hear two people plan to introduce him to someone is a bit alarming. Still, he doesn’t react, not quite trusting himself to be a decent human being at the moment. His shift is minutes from over. Soon another completed workday will be forgotten along with the rest, and he can skip the gym, go home, and nap on the couch to make up for his missing sleep. Getting up at four am doesn’t mix well with staying up late.

Kevin leaves, and Matt keeps talking about his show as though nothing happened, and Renee finally comes back to the floor when she’s done with her shift supervisor duties, tapping Andrew out for the day.

He ends up going to the gym anyway because naps throw him off and he needs to expel some of the negative energy he’s feeling. Afternoon classes pass by and soon he’s waiting outside of his apartment for Nicky and Aaron to grab dinner.

They’re the two people in the world that know Andrew the best, which isn’t really saying much. No one knows everything that Andrew has been through, and because of this fact, the family that he admittedly likes having around ends up making him feel even more isolated.

And maybe, it wasn’t the overcast sky causing Andrew to be more on edge, but the underlying fact that he was quite alone. It crept along in his peripheral vision. The one thing time didn’t seem to be helping.

He’d tried to attempt intimacy in the past when he first started college, but hookups had started to feel more like a brief high than something sustainable. It was difficult to find someone who understood Andrew’s boundaries and respected them. And during sex, it was as it should be; his instincts took over, the need for a release aided mechanical movements, but after it was like waking up from a dream, dropped back into a grey-tinted reality. With no person consistent, it got old. The self-awareness that came with being Andrew showed that one-night stands took more than they gave. He couldn’t think of seeing someone consistently, either, which was the weight at the other end of the seesaw.

His brother and cousin come out of the glass entrance to their apartment building. Aaron fills the car ride with complaints about his job that gives him patient-contact hours for school. Nicky talks about clubs he partakes in and the events he’s in charge of planning. Andrew listens and hums and turns up his music when he can’t pretend anymore. They know he’s trying, and he knows they know, and it’s exhausting.

At dinner, he briefly thinks of moving out and causing less trouble for them. The waitress is too friendly. The sun is setting through the diner windows, and the sky is a mess of clouds in streaking golds, purples, and pinks. Andrew can’t look at it directly, but he wonders if his hair is lighting up the same way his twins is.

“There’s a party the lacrosse team is hosting this weekend. Would you guys want to go? This guy I tutor invited me.” Nicky says.

Aaron shrugs, “Sure, I’ll go.”

“You’ll go, get blackout drunk, regret your life choices, swear off parties, and repeat the cycle next week,” Andrew adds.

Nicky’s mouth pulls into a smile. He says, “So is the life of the overworked student. What about you, Andrew? You coming?”

And because he is Aaron’s brother, Andrew shrugs, too. “If only to make sure Aaron doesn’t get punched.”

“I’m not going over this again.” Aaron sighs, before contradicting himself. “The guy was an asshole. I didn’t hit on his girlfriend.”

Andrew remembers the girl’s face as clear as day. Aaron may not have been flirting, but she definitely was. Andrew would think her a sneak if she didn’t announce to the whole party during the fight that she and Aaron’s assaulter had broken up.

“We know,” Andrew said, shooting a look at Nicky. “I’m going.”

His cousin did that overly fond smile that he always tried to hide and picked at what was left of his french fries. Andrew supposed the easiest thing that he did was feel a protective urge over the two of them. It was something that lined up with his morals and was easy to do, so he didn’t mind it. He’d knocked the douchebag who punched Aaron on his ass before upending his drink on him. Only when the guy got back up did Andrew discreetly pull out a knife, sneakily enough for the guy to feel just pressed against his side. Aaron and Nicky didn’t know about that part. The douchebag had backed off, then.

-

Later that night, Andrew finished assigned chapters and outlined an essay before he opened the window in his bedroom and climbed out onto the fire escape. He’d never been on one until they moved into the prewar building, and the first time he came out, he thought the black, metal bars would give out under him. They didn’t. His stomach still felt like it would drop out of his body whenever he looked down the four stories. The window next to his own had the curtains drawn, but Andrew saw Aaron’s lights were peaking out: studying late, per usual. Nicky’s music was quiet from across the hall, but Andrew enjoyed it when it subtly flooded out the window and into his ears. He tapped a cigarette and lighter from the pack he kept on his desk and sat back against the wall of the building. Their street was quiet, the road lamps yellow, the stars barely visible. The flicker of the lighter was familiar, and the pull and puff grounded Andrew, though he was many feet above it.

Tuesday

Multiple alarms at four am never got any easier. It felt as though Andrew had just closed his eyes, and he very well might have. His laptop was still shining into his still room. He’d left his desk lamp on. The apartment was quiet between Aaron’s knocks on the wall to get him to turn off the annoying chiming from his phone. The morning ritual.

Matt got to the cafe on his bike at the same time Andrew pulled his car into the small lot in the back. Matt’s beanie was pulled over his ears, but Andrew knew earbuds were blasting the usual heavy beats the curly-haired man played to wake up. He smiled sleepily at Andrew as he unlocked the door. Andrew didn’t have any capacity to reply. Mentally, he was in bed. He’d be awake in an hour or two. 

They flicked on the lights and clocked in at five sixteen and Andrew went right to the espresso machine, warming it up before running a cleansing tablet through it. When it was ready, Matt met him at the bar and Andrew brewed them two espresso shots each. They let them sit for thirty seconds and then downed the dead shots, because according to Dan, espresso had a life span, and Fox Beans openers had a necessary ritual that needed to be completed in order to have a good shift. It woke them up well enough. Andrew tried to find the caramel notes that everyone with a coffee palate seemed to find in espresso, but all he found on his tongue was bitterness.

They did their opening duties, and then Renee arrived, counted the register money, and turned on her playlist as Andrew put the stools and chairs back on the floor from the tables. Then he flipped on the neon sign of white fox paws, which he still found obnoxious, and unlocked the front doors.

Insert shift at the cafe. Early risers, those headed to their jobs, and zombie-brained students flooded in, one after another. Andrew got a direct tip of two dollars for a latte art leaf. Renee spilled hot tea on her hand. Matt dropped a breakfast sandwich. Andrew wasn’t in a shitty mood. He realized that one’s feelings affect one’s worldview a little too late in life. He tries to remember that when it feels like the sky is falling. It’s hard. Renee laughs over her red hand and Matt groans at the sandwich like it played a prank on him and Andrew feels a lot more mindful and a little less snappy. He remakes a drink for someone after they dislike the first and doesn’t even mind. He doesn’t mentally call people wimps for getting decaf, skim milk lattes. He tries to engrain this feeling of ease in his mind to fall back on tomorrow, all whilst trying to not think about anything too long.

The morning rush is absurd. The line folds in half on one of the rare occasions that it does. The three of them handle it with no sweat off their backs, not even taking their ten-minute food breaks when they usually do. Andrew’s lost count of the number of cold brews he’s poured. And then in a flash, it’s over, and suddenly, it’s nine-thirty.

Matt says, “Andrew, when is your birthday?”

“Why?” Andrew asks. It sounds suspicious, and Renee snorts from the sink, where she’s emptying old carafes of room-temperature milk.

Matt laughs. “Because we have to put it on the calendar! Don’t tell me it’s passed since you started here.”

“It didn’t,” Andrew says.

“Can we guess?” Renee asks.

Andrew raises an eyebrow at her, but she looks excited, so he says, “Go for it.”

Her eyes squint in a smile. Andrew watches her rainbow hair, pulled into two buns, bob as she bounces on her feet. “Okay! Well, I have a theory you’re an earth sign, but you don’t seem like a Capricorn, so, maybe a Virgo. September?”

Andrew feels amused. His chest does a weird, flippy thing. “No.”

From the other end of the counter, Matt yells a random date. It’s wrong. Renee acts as though that would have been ridiculous anyway. Andrew doesn’t give her any help.

She gasps at her own train of thought. “Don’t tell me you're a fire sign…?”

“Have you accurately guessed someone’s birthday before?” Andrew asks, instead.

Renee gapes at him. “Excuse me, most people just say their birthday outright when I ask. You’re being difficult. What are you, a Sagittarius?”

Andrew pauses as he stocks the straws and shoots her a glare. “No.”

“I don’t know anything about horoscopes–” Matt says.

“Zodiacs,” Renee corrects.

Matt continues, “But which one is unapologetic and mysterious?”

Something electrifies Renee. A realization. “Scorpio?”

That erupts a half-an-hour-long conversation. It’s entertaining enough. According to Renee, there were coincidences within sun signs, but it was difficult to always get it right. It was still fun for her to try. Andrew didn’t mind it, either, even though he was being analyzed. Customers joined in and offered up their own signs. Andrew didn’t care and made their drinks in silence. An iced coffee for the Capricorn in the suit. A green tea for the Gemini with a yoga mat. On his break, Andrew looked up what it meant to be a Scorpio, and the answer sort of ripped him apart, so he locked his phone and ate his breakfast with the spiteful bites of one being known.

Renee left to take inventory when he got back. Matt carried the conversation about his dog over from her to Andrew. No, Andrew didn’t have any pets. Yes, cats were superior. Admittedly, Weasley was a good name for Matt’s Goldendoodle. Andrew was almost done for the day and began his end-of-shift tasks as they talked. When he got back from grabbing milk from the storage fridge, Matt was talking to Kevin again.

Andrew forgot about Kevin, which was easy to do, but a mistake, because Matt and Kevin had mentioned bringing in a Neil to meet Andrew, which is who the person standing next to Kevin had to be.

Apparently, Neil was extremely attractive.

It wasn’t a quick acknowledgment either, no. Andrew stopped in place when he came around the corner and stared for a good three seconds before he managed to collect himself. Neil was talking with Matt and Kevin about something, so Andrew bypassed them and finished putting things away and hoped he could clock out before Kevin’s big mouth finally stopped moving. He did not want to be set up to have a conversation with someone. Even more so, someone so good-looking. It was almost irritating. Yesterday it would have been infuriating.

Andrew looked up from the coffee bar.

Neil was looking at him.

Normally Andrew would care when he found someone staring; he would scowl or raise a brow, but he couldn’t. He was struck dumb. Andrew didn’t know where to land his eyes, every feature on Neil’s stupid face was striking. He wasn’t every day pretty, no, he was someone that Andrew couldn’t possibly make up. Neil had disheveled, reddish-brown hair that flipped this way and that. A nose that would be too perfect if it didn’t have a slight crick from an obvious past fracture. Eyes a haunting blue that a poisonous creature would use as a warning. It was all a messed up sort of beautiful– down to the pale skin that was disrupted with marks– a blade, a burn, or maybe both. Andrew hadn’t caught those the first time. Interesting. When his eyes landed on the scarred cheek, Neil smiled. It was the smile of a cocky jerk, and unfortunately, it did nothing but tug at Andrew further. He walked over to Matt and stopped behind the touch screen register.

“Hey, Andrew,” Matt said, “This is my other roommate, Neil.”

“Hey,” Andrew said, keeping his expression blank. Neil still had that annoying look on his face (it was just his face) so Andrew turned his attention towards Kevin, “I’m not interested in a room if that’s what you’re trying to do here.”

“Well no, but now that you mention it…” Kevin trailed off.

“No,” Andrew cut off the thought. “What do you want to drink?”

Kevin sucked his teeth. “The usual. I don’t drink coffee.”

Lots of sarcastic potential replies filled Andrew’s head, begging to leap off his tongue, but, “Okay. What was that again?” was what he settled with. Andrew did remember Kevin’s order, but no one needed to know that. He unnecessarily wrote it on the paper cup as Kevin spoke, and then looked at Neil, expectant.

Neil frowned. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have whatever.”

“Whatever?” Andrew raised a brow.

Neil shrugged, “I don’t really care. Just nothing sweet.”

Andrew looked at Matt. For some reason, he looked delighted as he leaned over the top of the pastry case. All tall and irritating and of no help. Andrew was just about very done with this interaction.

“Okay,” was all Andrew said. Again. He scribbled something on the cup and walked over to the bar to prepare Kevin’s almond milk. The cafe was pretty empty– a few people scattered around the sparse tables, one or two people outside, bearing the early spring cold. Matt was cleaning his station, still listening to Kevin talk. Kevin moved his hands a lot when he explained something. Even when the person he was talking to wasn’t looking at him.

When Andrew looked back at the coffee bar, Neil was standing on the other side of it.

“Hi,” Neil said, elbows resting on the wood. Andrew pretended to work on the drink to avoid taking in any more of his appearance. “Whatcha making me?”

“I’m not making you anything,” Andrew said.

“Why not?” Neil asked.

There was something teasing in his tone Andrew did not like. If Neil could stand like, ten feet away and not open his mouth, maybe Andrew would appreciate his face more. Likely not. He didn’t know how to act, so he pretended Neil was just another person (because he was) and tried his best to be normal. Himself. He scooped matcha powder into a cup and added some hot water. As he whisked the two, he leaned against the bar. “Because you didn’t give me an order, and I’m not going to waste time thinking about what you may want.”

Neil cocked his head. “You don’t look like the type to take orders.”

It made Andrew’s eyes meet his. Neil went on, “I’ll have… a latte.”

A safe choice for an obvious non-coffee-drinker, but Neil didn’t need to know that. Andrew added the steaming milk into the matcha and topped it off with a foam flower. It was muscle memory at this point, something he did every day, but it stood out to obvious cafe-virgin Neil.

“Can you do that on a latte?” He asked.

Andrew tried not to sound like a snob. “Yes.”

He left Kevin’s drink on the bar (Kevin could come to get it himself because Andrew was definitely not going to call him over here) and started Neil’s.

“So how long have you been working here?” Neil asked.

Andrew replied, “Three months.”

“Do you like it?”

Andrew thought about the never-ending coffee experts. He thought about his coworkers. He thought about handcrafting something for someone else. How even though he had to get up at four am, he got to see the sunrise through the storefront. His days are longer. The customers could be entitled. His legs got tired. Things were good and bad. Not black or white, not grey, but black and white. That was life, his therapist would say, and that’s okay. “Yes.”

Neil hummed. Andrew couldn’t tell if he was making customer small talk or mutual-friend small talk. They were silent as the espresso brewed. Neil played with one of the plants on the bar. Andrew got a look at the scars on his cheek as he did. Then he spotted the hoodie he was wearing.

Andrew almost scoffed, “You don’t seem like a jock.”

Neil smiled. Andrew got another view of his canines. “No? What’s a jock seem like to you?”

Andrew finished off the latte with one of the best flowers he’d done so far. There was an accidental little heart at the top. He handed it to Neil and said, “Kevin.”

“Understandable,” Neil said, staring down at Andrew’s work. “And what do I seem like?”

Neil turned his head a little. A smirk was on his lips. For a moment, Andrew thought Neil might be flirting, and his body betrayed him, pulse speeding up.

“A problem,” Andrew managed.

Neil’s eyes stayed on his as he grabbed a stirring stick and stuck it in the latte, right in Andrew’s art. He replied, “You’d be right.”

And then he mixed the drink, the art lost, messed into nothing but brown foam.

It pissed Andrew off a bit.

Kevin called for Neil, now at the front door, and Neil lidded both of their drinks.

“Thank you,” Neil said. He winked before turning away, but Andrew was so caught up in his irritation he hadn’t processed it until after Neil was gone. 

Neil had been flirting with him. 

Andrew turned to Matt, who was watching him. Renee chose that moment to come back out on the floor, so Andrew dropped the rag he’d been using to sanitize the countertop and left.

On the way past Matt, he said, “Not a word.”

“Uh-huh,” Matt instantly agreed.

-

Andrew was laying on the couch, scrolling on Instagram, trying to steal time to accomplish nothing productive. His stressed-out brother lay on the carpet next to him, doing the same. Their books sat open and discarded on the coffee table. Aaron held up his phone, a stray arm from nowhere, and showed Andrew a video of one cat smacking another from a hiding spot in a cabinet. Absolutely superior to dogs.

“That’s me and you,” Aaron said. Andrew snorted.

Nicky decided to cook dinner that night. The smell of sauteing onions and garlic did nothing for Andrew’s empty stomach. He hadn’t eaten since he’d gotten off work, and a quick gym session and an afternoon of classes did not help. Aaron asked Nicky how much longer until the dinner was ready. Nicky gave a noncommittal response from the kitchen. 

Andrew’s thoughts, less cooperative due to his hunger, boomeranged back to Neil. Andrew could appreciate when someone was attractive– his red blood made sure of that– but unfortunately, Neil was also interesting. Interesting was harder to shake off. Usually, Andrew could fit people into cookie-cutter holes in his mind. Everyone was a certain type of person that fell into a certain slot. Not Neil. At least, not yet. Andrew couldn’t figure out how to sort him. Neil was a college student that didn’t know what drink to order at a coffee shop.  Maybe he was an alien, who’d just crash-landed from outer space? His words had an implacable inflection. His smile looked as though he wasn’t comfortable using it. He’d somehow managed to have an attitude while flirting–

Before he knew what he was doing, Andrew was searching for Neil on his Instagram. Surprisingly, without even a last name, he came up. Neil Josten. Followed by Matt and…

“Nicky,” Andrew called.

His cousin stuck his head out of the kitchen. It wasn’t the response that Aaron got earlier. Andrew disliked the attention he got when it was the rare occasion he spoke up. He ignored it. “Do you know someone named Neil?”

That really got Nicky’s attention. His mouth spread into a grin before he disappeared again. “Yes!” Nicky said, and Andrew heard pans rearrange and utensils being set down before Nicky came out to the living room, standing by Andrew’s feet. “He’s one of the people I tutor in Spanish, the one who invited us to the party on Saturday.”

Andrew documented the Spanish fact for later and muttered, “Of course, they’re fucking lacrosse players…”

“Huh?” Nicky beamed.

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

“Why? How do you know him?” Nicky said. It was a mistake to bring up a guy, and a good-looking one at that. Nicky had mellowed out since meeting his boyfriend, Erik, but if there was someone even vaguely attractive in the room, Nicky would be aware of it. 

“I don’t,” Andrew said. And then he thought of his therapist flattening her lips at his lack of honesty, so he added, “he’s my coworker’s roommate.”

“Oh, who? Kevin? Matt?” Nicky asked. His tone was all high and excited as it usually was, incredibly parallel to the discomfort Andrew felt at talking boys with his cousin. Wait, is that what he was doing? No–

“Kevin Day is a douchebag,” Aaron said. Yes, he was, at first, and then not at second, but then at third, because he introduced Andrew to Neil.

Andrew frowned, “How do you know Kevin?”

“I don’t,” Aaron said, because brothers, except Aaron didn’t have an angel sitting on his shoulder to urge him on. Sometimes, he made Andrew feel less difficult. Apparently, there would be no talking about Kevin or Neil, tonight.

Nicky sighed. “Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed or insecure, I remind myself that if I can take care of you two, I can do anything.”

With that, he walked back into the kitchen. A year ago, Nicky would have prodded Andrew for an explanation. Maybe later Andrew could ask how Erik was doing and let his cousin gush over him for twenty minutes as a thank you.

Back on his phone, Neil’s private profile had a follow request sent.

Andrew’s heart fully lurched.

It was such an unfamiliar feeling that he sucked in a breath loud enough to alert his brother. The blond sat up from his lying position on the floor and looked at Andrew.

He’d just accidentally requested to follow Neil on Instagram.

He hadn’t even had a chance to squint at his small profile picture yet. 

Aaron angled his head to look at Andrew’s phone. He laughed, “Did you mean to do that?”

Andrew hid the screen against his chest. He felt like a child. His voice went monotone, “No.”

“Too late now.” Aaron exhaled. Andrew shoved his brother’s forehead back, so he was laying out of sight once more.

Was it too late? He could cancel the request, unless Neil had already seen it—

When he lifted his phone again, Neil’s profile was visible.

Following. NeilJos10 wants to follow you.

How this had managed to happen in the span of fewer than two minutes was absurd. Andrew for a moment wanted to deactivate his account, delete the app, and write a memoir about how social media has negatively impacted his life.

Instead of being dramatic, he locked his phone and tossed it on the other end of the couch. He decided to ask Nicky about Erik now, to get it over with. To fill his mind with someone else’s chatter. Nicky talked until they were done eating.

-

Andrew waited until later to go through Neil’s pictures. There were only three, posted months apart. No backstory, no family, no hometown. His teammates flooded the comments of his posts: the most recent was a mirror selfie with Kevin, the second a photo of Matt asleep on a couch, and the first, the view from the window of an airplane. Neil’s profile picture was a candid shot, too small for Andrew to appreciate fully.

He tried not to feel weird about following someone he’d just met that day, even if it was an accident. He had to keep a tight grip on his overthinking or else it’d run wild. And to have it running towards Neil, a potential problem, was dangerous. Not an option. No.

Andrew accepted Neil’s request, and instead of checking his own posts with a stranger’s eye, he climbed out onto the fire escape and smoked. He listened to Nicky’s music while watching Aaron’s monitor flick colors against his curtains. He took in nicotine and hoped it would fill up so much of him there was no space to think about beautiful, scarred strangers in coffee shops.

Chapter Text

Wednesday

It was easy for Andrew to ignore his alarm when his brother was not knocking on the wall. Because of this, he slept through the blaring siren and was now late for his morning class. When he finally shut off the merciless wake-up call, Andrew was greeted by countless notifications from Neil, who had decided to like every one of his photos at six am. He had no time or energy to unpack that fact, not even convinced he wasn’t still sleeping. Andrew slouched into a sitting position and pulled on his glasses. Stretched his arms. Cracked his knuckles. Sighed the sigh of one unready to face another day.

Classes were classes; the same as usual and not worth paying much attention to. Andrew’s brain would remember the material whether he wanted to or not. His therapy session with Betsy was at three. Andrew didn’t mention Neil, because he didn’t go to therapy to verbally journal his week, no, he went to work on the things that still affected his everyday life. When Andrew didn’t want to discuss his childhood, he sipped the hot chocolate Betsy made and spoke about his dreams, his work, or his interpersonal relationships.

“Aaron had a breakdown on Sunday,” Andrew said. “He was crying about his homework for a good half an hour. It could have been finished in that time.”

Betsy’s eyebrows drew together as they usually did when she was listening. She didn’t say anything yet, though. The short, kind-eyed woman let Andrew guide most of their sessions.

Andrew went on, “I felt annoyed. I wanted him to stop. To just toughen up and do what he needed to do. I was tired and wanted to sleep.”

Their sessions always had Andrew feeling either more mentally scrambled than when he went in, or so thoughtless and empty that he could only go home and nap. Today, he wanted to nap, but his impromptu closing shift at the cafe prevented that. He had time to go home and change. Maybe he could get to work early enough to consume some pre-shift fuel.

No one was home. They usually weren’t on Wednesday afternoons— Aaron closed at the doctor’s office he worked at. Nicky had clubs, and if not clubs, work, and if not work, friends.

Andrew, still numb, zoned out while looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The apartment was quiet enough to make his ears ring, yet he couldn’t move his limbs to turn on some music. He felt both in charge of himself and not. Frustration was useless and therefore not an option, but Andrew could spiral if he cared to. It was annoying to need help sometimes. To look at yourself and see that every action could have a deep explanation of nature or nurture behind it. That most of it needed to be edited and rewritten.

Andrew clenched his teeth and began the grounding technique that usually helped. His fingers tightened around the ceramic edge of the sink. Claws on porcelain. 

“My name is Andrew,” he said. His voice was scratchy. “Minyard. I’m twenty-two. I’m from California. I live in South Carolina. I go to PSU. I’m an English major.”

It was hard for Andrew not to shrink away from this, but his reflection remained impassive. He strayed away from mentioning his past. Betsy said it didn’t have to be his defining story if he didn’t want it to be. He gripped the sink harder, slowly falling back into himself.

Being a twin was weird at times. Andrew felt like a failed carbon copy. Aaron was going to save lives. Andrew didn’t know what to do. He knew if he smiled, the mirror would show him the same dimples Aaron had. Andrew looked for the differences instead.

His eyes were warmer; more yellow and olive than the earthy green that Aaron had. His freckles were splattered differently. Orion’s belt went from the outer corner of his left eye to the tail of his eyebrow. Andrew looked down at his armbands but didn’t rip them off, they were enough of an indication of the differences they hid. He looked to the faint scars on his knuckles instead. The calluses on his palms that would likely never leave.

“I’m gay,” Andrew said. He doesn’t know why, but it’s always something that made him feel strong. He sighed and dropped his hands. Took off his clothes. Gave up on the exercise and showered. 

-

Andrew hung his coat on one of the breakroom hooks and pulled on his cow-brown apron. Renee left him a nametag on the manager’s desk. He expected her usual letters: bubbly and colorful, but she’d written Andrew’s name in white with a plain typewriter font. It was okay. Preferable.

Dan greeted him from the register and filled him in on how the morning shift went and what was out of stock. He sipped the mocha he made as she spoke and grabbed a butter croissant, refueling before he replaced her behind the counter.

“Thanks again for covering. Allison called out sick and Seth couldn't cover. I’m staying to make up for them but I have to finish orders, tips, and payroll, so you’ll be alone on the floor unless you need me.” Dan was not polite when she spoke; she didn’t raise her voice into something pleasant for someone else’s ear. She was very matter-of-fact, and Andrew respected that.

He nodded. “If Doreen comes in, you’re handling her.”

Doreen was a regular who changed the amount of foam she preferred every single time she came in because she enjoyed complaining. Andrew knew it to be a fact: he had tested her. She was a bullshit artist with poorly dyed greys and droopy eyeliner.

Dan slipped out a laugh. “Deal.”

He counted his register— something Renee usually did for him, but Dan would smack his head over— and set up the espresso bar how he liked it. Matt always moved the vanilla syrup and Dan put the cinnamon back in the wrong spot. Someone had restocked the whole milk incorrectly, too. Unbelievable.

The shift was slow but Dan let Andrew play his music. He found things to clean and took his time making drinks. There was a rush here or there, but Andrew always got the customers served in minutes without spilling anything. He got the cafe good tips, which were all compiled and divided at the end of the week based on hours worked by the number of employees (eight).

At one point, Andrew looked at the leafy hanging plant on the bar and thought of Neil standing there, pinching the leaves. He had undeniably looked like a sculpture animated. His hair fell as though he had just landed from a jump. His bone structure was molded from experienced thumbs. Whoever created him picked the best eyes out of the lot and stuck them into Neil’s skull. Andrew thought of how they blinked at him. At how they rolled. It would be flustering to anybody, Andrew thought, settling to ignore the feeling in his stomach.

As entertaining as he found the theory of Neil being an alien, it was more likely he was just a weirdo. But who was Andrew to judge, as someone who at most times, felt like a freak recently dropped into reality himself?

The stormy sunsets that spring supplied lit up the cafe. Andrew felt nostalgic for a different life— one that could have happened, if. If. If.

Pink reflected off of the masonry of the floor and cast the brick walls in sharp shadows and colors. Andrew listened to the ambiance of the cafe and felt present. Borderline content. He let himself soak it in for a moment.

As though he’d manifested it, the front door’s bell rang, and Andrew lifted his eyes just in time to see Neil walk in. Their gazes met. Andrew looked back down at the bag of beans he was grinding and put a wall of reinforcement up. Against Neil, the concrete blocks were Jenga pieces. He was attracted to somebody. So what?

This time, there was no Kevin. Neil went over to the register alone and looked up at the hand-written chalk menus. Andrew watched him and tried to ignore his jaw tilted up, his hand tight around his bag strap. Instead, he wondered how to ask Neil what he was doing here. Did Matt tell him that Andrew was closing, or did he usually come at night?

Andrew walked over to the register. “Hi,” he said. He did not mention the sudden Instagram follow or Neil’s spam likes. He would be okay with never touching that subject, actually.

Neil looked at him as though just noticing him. “Oh, hi. Fancy seeing you here.”

“What do you want?” Andrew asked.

Looking back up at the menu, Neil hummed. “A lavender oat milk latte, I think.”

Andrew blinked. The drink Renee invented was usually ignored, or ordered by people with taxidermy bug tattoos and septum piercings. Not sketchy lacrosse jocks.

Still, Andrew wasn’t going to entertain Neil’s purposely ridiculous order. So he said, “Okay,” and walked over to the bar without ringing Neil up.

The speakers were playing something harmonious and slow that Andrew couldn’t listen to while looking at Neil, or he'd be transported into a world where coffee shop movies about romances between strangers were real. “Romance” was a strange idea that felt like water in Andrew’s mind, slipping out of his thoughts whenever he tried to grasp it.

Neil followed him, two parallel movements in the same direction. He said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re not going to like this,” Andrew said, pumping two shots of lavender syrup into a mug, quickly deciding Neil was going to stay in-house and drink it. He drizzled some honey in there, too. Something Neil would maybe appreciate. Probably not.

“I know,” Neil said.

Andrew shrugged. “Whatever. You’re making my shift go faster.”

“Okay. Well, good,” Neil said, and then, “are you from the west coast?”

Andrew froze as he watched the espresso pour. His eyes flicked to the man in front of him. Neil was resting his chin in his palm, leaning next to the plant.

He went on, “Your accent makes it sort of obvious. I’d settle on Northern California, though. Or maybe Oregon?”

Accent? Andrew didn’t have an—

“Your words drag a little,” Neil clarified. He looked smug. Normally, Andrew would threaten someone for so blatantly analyzing him. But he looked at Neil, who was only about three inches taller, thinner, and thought if he was a real problem, Andrew could take him. Besides, Neil had an innocent, teasing look on his face. Maybe he was flirting again. In that way that a normal person would find creepy.

Andrew swallowed. “No, they don’t.”

“It’s also your pronunciation. Here, say ‘water’,” Neil challenged.

“No,” Andrew said before he remembered he didn’t care. Shouldn’t care. “Water.”

Neil laughed. Andrew watched and said, “You say it.”

“I did before,” Neil said.

“Say it again.”

Neil shut his mouth. Then he said, “Water.”

Andrew couldn’t place it. Neil spoke quickly but his tone was laid back. Full of itself. Where Andrew was “wa-tir” and enunciated Neil was “wuh-dur” and lax.

Were they flirting?

“I’m from Boston.” Neil supplied.

“Oakland,” Andrew said before he steamed the milk. It was loud enough to drown out the discomfort he felt at saying the city’s name. Andrew didn’t feel any connection or pride. It was only something that had an effect on who he was today. How he apparently said his words.

The espresso shots were dead at this point, but Neil wouldn’t be able to tell. Andrew poured the milk and did a big, swirly heart in the wide mug. He never did hearts and meant this one with every drop of sarcasm he poured into it. Andrew finished the drinks with the lavender sugar crystals before the ceramic mug thudded on the marble where he placed it in front of Neil. 

“Thank you,” Neil said. He took it to sit at the counter on the other side of Andrew. There wasn’t anyone in line, so Andrew followed Neil over.

“Do you plan on telling me what it is you’re here for?” Andrew said.

Neil gave him a look and asked, “Do your coworkers know you keep knives in your sleeves?”

Andrew clenched his jaw. Neil was referring to his armbands, and the typically unnoticeable blades he had sheathed in them. He slid a blank mask or his face and answered, “I don’t typically announce it.”

“I noticed them when you were carrying the milk yesterday.” Neil sipped his drink.

Andrew looked down at his arm and flexed it. Sure enough, when he did, there was a slight outline of the hidden weapons. “People usually avoid strangers with knives.”

Neil shrugged. “I don’t think you’d hurt anyone. I’m just curious.”

Curious doesn’t look like that. Andrew scoffed, “Don’t be.”

“I am. How did you end up here?” Neil asked. Not why. How. Andrew felt as though he should be asking him the same thing. A part of his mind nagged at him. Said, what if you were meant to meet this person on your journey? Andrew mentally stomped on that thought like the house centipedes he found in the apartment laundry room.

He’d tell the truth for a fair price. Andrew replied, “My brother. What’s your major?”

It was a question most people asked, and therefore an easy way to redirect the conversation. The answer was probably something useless, anyway. Something that all the athletes chose—

“Math,” Neil said. “And yours?”

If Neil was smart, he was likely making his own assumptions about Andrew. He handed his answer over with uncommon reluctance, “English.”

“Do you like it?” Neil asked.

Andrew doesn’t mind it, but because it’s laid out in an educational plan with “One Size Fits All” stamped on it, no. He supposes not. He says, “It’s something to do.”

Neil breathes. “Yeah.”

Andrew forces the conversation onwards. “Why move here from Boston?” He didn’t know much about the place but felt like Neil would have been blended in well there.

Neil gave a skirting reply, “I actually moved here from Arizona.”

Andrew didn’t miss his tone, which was almost asking daring Andrew to ask more. He’d bet money Boston was not what came before Arizona. Interesting. Neil seemed almost flighty, with his travel, with the way he clutched his bag. Like a bird– well, with the sharp eyes and keen observations– a hawk.

Andrew looked at the scars on Neil’s cheek and said, “I don’t suppose you want to say more about that?”

“Not yet.” Neil set down his drink. It was about a quarter gone. “Do you live with your brother?”

A customer walked in. Andrew said, “Yes.”

He helped the customer and made their hazelnut latte before they took a seat by the bookshelf. Andrew joined Neil again. His drink was halfway gone. Andrew asked, “Did Kevin scout you?”

Apparently, they were playing a little game of truths. Andrew wasn’t complaining; he had about an hour and a half left of his shift. Who knows what Neil had to do. He’d set his bag on the stool next to him, but his arm remained looped through the strap. No phone in sight to check the time on. To pretend to have to be somewhere.

The question must have sparked something in Neil. He lit up, a smile growing across his face. “Yeah. He and Coach flew out to see one of my games.”

“You must be quite the athlete,” Andrew said, sarcastic to hide the feeling in his chest from Neil’s grin.

Neil snorted but didn’t deny it. That must be where all of his confidence came from.

It was Neil’s turn. He said, “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

And it wasn’t at all what Andrew had been expecting. His fingers twitched. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss for words. He let his crisis happen for half a heartbeat before he collected himself. Sort of. “What?”

Neil looked amused as he said, “Did I misread this? I don’t think so.”

Andrew began to shut down. He didn’t do dates. He didn’t enjoy being read. This beautiful weirdo in front of him was setting off all sorts of warning alarms in his mind; a siren lure he couldn’t help but want to walk towards. Andrew’s heart, not knowing where to go, turned to irritation.

“I don’t date,” Andrew replied.

“I don’t either,” Neil said.

Andrew took his hesitance as a chance to grab the reins. He dropped his voice, “So you’re asking to hook up?”

It worked. Neil swallows, and his eyes flick to Andrew’s lips and back up. All talk, then. At least Andrew thought. It took a moment before the blue-eyed enigma says, “Not necessarily.”

And that sent Andrew back two spaces. “The answer is no.”

Neil accepts it. “Okay. Why not?”

“Because I don’t date. Because I don’t hook up. Because you don’t add up,” Andrew said. Because I think you may be a maze one could get lost in. You’ve already taken up too much of my attention. He takes a slow deep breath.

“I’d like to know the math you’re using,” Neil says, a hint of a joke on his tongue.

Andrew hasn’t been on a date. He thinks it's possible Neil hasn’t either. No one even asks someone out that way anymore. At least Andrew thinks not. He says, “I’d like to know what planet you’re from and which ‘How to act Human’ manual you read so I can email the author.”

Neil laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to ask someone you’re interested in out on a date?”

Andrew wanted to stab him and see if his blood was blue. Andrew was not interesting. Neil was. So much so that Andrew wanted to pick him apart and look at him from all angles. Wanted to touch the burns on his cheek. Wanted to do much more.

Andrew says, “No.”

Neil squints his eyes. Smirks. It’s hot, and Andrew’s losing control. “Okay. Then can I have your phone number?”

Phone. Number. He may as well have said “mobile” in front of it. If he was anything more real than a fantasy, Andrew may kiss him. He keeps it going, “Why?”

“To… text you?”

“No,” Andrew grit his teeth. “Stop. Do you think this is funny?”

People like this— who catch Andrew’s attention and are interesting enough to keep it— don’t exist in this town. In Andrew's path of life. Maybe his lack of sleep has caused this hallucination in front of him. Except the mug was three-quarters of the way empty, someone must be drinking it.

Neil sobered. “Not in the way you think. Excuse me for being curious, but you hide your self-defense weapons so they’re easily accessible. You have cigarettes in your back pocket while you work. You look irritated with almost everyone but your coworkers and yet still bite your tongue around Kevin, who is the biggest pain in the ass I know. You work at a coffee shop with bags under your eyes. I look at you and I see someone who may get it. Excuse me if I assumed wrong, but I’m interested.”

Andrew knew his eyes were wide. That he wasn’t breathing. He was showing his cards, so he quickly swallows and says, “Get what?”

He says it in his mind at the same time that Neil says it out loud. “Pretending. Trying.”

Feeling hopeful, not because you want to, but because you’re human and that’s what comes along with it.

Andrew clenches his jaw. “So you’re trying. And what, do you think asking someone on a date is what you’re supposed to do when you meet someone you think is like you?”

“Tell me you aren’t interested,” Neil said, “and I’ll drop it.”

Andrew didn’t like to lie. He was already pinching the rapidly multiplying butterflies between his fingers. They were suffocating, filling up his lungs and stomach. He relabels them as panic due to their unfamiliarity. “Give me your phone,” He says.

Neil smiles and pulls it out of his bag before handing it over. He didn’t open the dial pad, just gave Andrew his unlocked phone. Andrew sighs and opens the Contacts app without looking at anything too closely. He types his number in, hating that the song playing in the cafe was now forever attached to this moment. Andrew mourns his past fondness for it and hands Neil his phone back.

Dan chose that time to check on Andrew. She greets him and then sees who he’s talking to. “Oh, hey Neil!”

Neil smiles at her. “Hey, Dan.”

Maybe he was in fact a regular, or maybe the intimacy Andrew saw between Matt and Dan meant that she met Neil outside of the cafe. It wasn’t Andrew’s business, and Dan being both his superior and Neil’s friend meant he should get back to work. He grabbed Neil’s now empty mug and put in the sanitizer as the two caught up. Eventually, Neil got up to leave. Before he left he called out, “See you later, Andrew.”

Andrew said, “Okay.”

Thursday

Opening after a closing shift was definitely a punishment dished out in hell. Andrew only just blinked after his head hit the pillow before his alarm went off. He couldn’t properly open his eyes until he was under the warm stream of his shower. He smoked in the car on the way to work. He took three dead shots and didn’t register any words from Renee or Matt. Irritation bubbled in his limbs. Andrew wanted nothing more than to climb into bed. Even his car— even the bottom shelf in the storage room. Why would anyone be awake when they could be asleep?

There wasn’t a thought in his head. The drinks were made and handed off mindlessly. It wasn’t until Neil was standing in front of him that Andrew finally woke up.

“You look exhausted.” Neil smiled.

According to the register, it was nine am. Renee was kind enough to say Andrew could leave early. She was back doing inventory, so she could be quick to cover his absence. Matt was on his ten-minute break. Andrew swallowed against the grogginess in his throat and said, “What do you want, Neil?

“Good morning,” Neil said. “A chai tea latte. Dirty.”

“Fine,” Andrew said. He walked away, once again without taking any form of payment. He definitely did not care about being presentable awake in front of Neil. No.

“You should get some sleep after you get off,” Neil said, following him.

Andrew hummed. “Can’t.”

“Class?” Neil asked.

Andrew nodded. Neil did too, and asked, “Do you have plans later?”

He pumped the spicy chai concentrate into the bottom of a paper cup and tried not to think too hard about why Neil was asking. “Yes. Do you?”

“Just practice,” Neil said.

“Don’t want to miss that.” Andrew poured in the espresso. Added the steamed milk. Neil watched him work. He set the cup in front of him and asked, “Do you plan on getting a caffeine addiction or do you just enjoy free things?”

Neil looked at Andrew’s eyes. “Neither. I like to bother you.”

It was unfortunate that Andrew would not describe Neil that way. A puzzle, maybe. Easy on the eyes. Troublesome. But not a bother.

“Speaking of,” Neil said, taking a sip of the drink. He tightened his lips into a line at the taste. “Go on a date with me?”

Andrew was too tired for this. He didn’t have his usual grip on his composure— on his emotions– which is why his heart jumped. “No,” he said. Neil was asking the wrong questions, anyway. Andrew supposes he would hang out with Neil if only to unarm him; to understand him better.

The sharp lacrosse player didn’t miss a beat, the rejection not seeming to at all phase him. “Okay. Can I have a cup of ice?”

Another surprise from Neil’s mouth. Hesitant, Andrew filled a cold cup with ice and handed it over. Neil took a picture of the chai, with its latte art (a plant, three layers of round leaves), before he poured it into the cup of ice.

It was a disgrace.

They made iced chai tea lattes– they were on the chalkboard menus Neil had been studying. He knew that if he knew that one with espresso was called “dirty.” Neil’s face was blank as he poured the drink, as though he wasn’t committing a crime, not to mention destroying Andrew’s latte art for the second time. Then he looked up at Andrew and grinned. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t count on it,” Andrew said because it was nicer than, “No, you absolutely will not. You’re banned.”

-

Thursday nights were movie nights. Aaron and Andrew sat on the floor in front of the tv while Nicky lay across the couch. They were on the last Harry Potter movie, which was paused on the screen. A sheet was laid across the carpet, their pasta bowls discarded next to them.

“Heads or Tails?” Nicky asked. He read the sorting hat questions out loud as the three of them took the quiz on their phones.

Andrew had a like / dislike relationship with personality quizzes. On one hand, he enjoyed being narrowed down to a simple, mundane answer. On the other, he didn’t like to be misread or to force himself to settle for the closest answer to his own. Heads or tails alone could mean many different things.

“Tails,” Aaron said. Andrew wondered what he meant by that.

“Heads,” he replied.

“I'm already finished. I got Ravenclaw,” Aaron said, locking his phone and picking up his bowl of angel hair with marinara. Andrew looked over at him and watched him twirl the pasta around the fork before taking a bite. Something like a stone lodged in Andrew’s throat. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the fondness for his brother, who suggested nerdy quizzes and wizard movies and studied pre-med and twirled his pasta. Maybe it wasn’t so bad he broke down when he was stressed, and Andrew should try to support him more. Maybe the universe said, here, you both need a brother, and they were duplicated the moment that one needed the other—

Andrew gulped and looked back down at his phone, shaking the grabby fingers of those empathic thoughts from his brain cells like they were leeches. The next question was “What would you rather be?” years ago Andrew may have chosen “Feared” but tonight he chose “Trusted” and didn't think too hard about why.

“Which animal did you guys choose to bring with you? I can’t decide between an owl or a cat.” Nicky complained. 

“A barn owl,” Aaron said. “Why wouldn’t you choose an owl? They’re useful. They deliver packages and—“

“Ravenclaw,” Andrew coughed out. “You know you’re supposed to make your own decisions, right?” He said to Nicky.

Aaron scoffed, “You probably chose a black cat or some shit. Let me see this—“ Andrew let him grab his phone, “Oh, Slytherin. Not surprised.”

“What? No way, you’re such a Hufflepuff…” Nicky said, “Yeah you’re moody and wear all black but, you’re a total softie.”

Andrew froze, “Never say that again.”

Aaron tossed his phone back. “He’s right, but, Hufflepuffs are actually really strong. They’re hard workers, and loyal…”

The rest of Aaron’s passionate monologue went in one of Andrew’s ears and out the other. He wasn’t trying to be rude. He just would rather save his brain capacity for things apart from Harry Potter facts. Besides, he’d gotten a text message.

Unknown: if I asked you to kidnap me from practice so that I don’t have to listen to Kevin speak anymore, would you?

The only message above that was of a knife emoji sent the previous day. Andrew saved Neil’s number, something which he was actually postponing but now could not, and replied.

Andrew: why don’t I just kidnap Kevin

Neil: well then you’d have to listen to him

Andrew: you’re not much better. apparently I have a big decision to make

Neil: I think the choice is clear

Andrew: say your goodbyes to your captain

Andrew: he should get along well with my loud cousin

Behind him, Nicky cheered. “I got Gryffindor!”

Aaron sucked his teeth, “No way. You scream whenever you find a spider. Better yet, don’t even let me kill them. You make me take them outside. Hufflepuff.”

Neil: oh, you live with your cousin, too? What's his name?

Andrew remembered Nicky’s relationship with Neil almost too late. Whatever. It had nothing to do with him, anyway.

Andrew: he’s your Spanish tutor

Neil: ? you two are on the opposite end of every spectrum

Andrew: apparently that's how family works

Neil didn’t reply. Aaron unpaused the movie, so Andrew followed their no phone rule and put his down. But there wasn’t a text back when Andrew got up to pee. Or when the movie ended. He didn’t like the feeling so close to disappointment in his chest. At all.

Friday

Andrew did not have any nightmares that night. By the time he came in from the fire escape, brushed his teeth, turned on his fan, and climbed into bed, he was so exhausted he couldn’t think, so it would be expected that he didn't dream at all. 

Except that by the time his alarm was going off, he was blinking away the memory of Neil.

His dream was ever-changing as all dreams were, but he’d definitely dreamt of Neil; had seen him in his mind’s eye, his body still feeling unsure and light as it seemed to whenever Neil was around.

Aaron’s knocks on the wall weren’t as angry and developed as they usually were since Andrew had woken up at only the first round of alarms. He turned it off and got right out of bed early. Andrew had more time to get ready for his shift, so he showered. Did his hair instead of wearing a beanie. Put on some sneakers instead of his combat boots that had become syrup-plastered and needed care-taking. Smoked in his car before he pulled out of the driveway.

Because he was more awake than usual, Andrew could speak before even ingesting caffeine. His grunted, “Morning” to Matt, must have shocked him and made the upperclassman drop his keys.

The company they got their pastries from sent new spring treats including cheese danishes and lemon poppyseed scones. Matt and Andrew split one of each as they opened because according to Renee, they should know how to describe them to customers. Andrew thinks she’s only trying to stuff them with sweet things because she knows they both enjoy them. Or maybe she’s planning on putting Andrew and Matt in a stew.

His shift was uninteresting. Espresso shots poured. Lids were restocked. Hot cup sleeves unfolded. The steam wand was sanitized. Wash, rinse, repeat. Useless. Money in the bank account. Something besides mentally deteriorating. Keep busy. Make friends. Stay active. Socialize. Create structure. Take care of your appearance. Learn responsibility. Grow. Grow. Grow—

“Hey,” Neil said.

Andrew’s head snapped up from the whipped cream he was adding to a latte. And it hit him like a meteorite: he was getting familiar with something. Not watching the door every time it opened. Not noticing a potential threat in front of him.

“Hey,” Andrew said. Neil was looking at his hair with a soft smile. Andrew looked down at the canister of whipped cream he’d prepared yesterday. His handwriting was on the “use by” sticker, written for seven days. He’d still be here in seven days. He’d written many expiration dates by now, and outlasted them.

“Do I have to wait in that long line?” Neil asked.

“No. What do you want?” Andrew finished the latte off with caramel drizzle and handed it to a girl with curly hair and freckles. Neil walked over to the other end of the bar and sat in the same seat he did before.

“An americano,” Neil said, and he looked excited to order the drink. Andrew always thought the order sounded stupid before he knew what it was: the most elite of all drinks. He hated them, but like straight espresso shots, whoever ordered them meant business and had shit they needed to get done.

Andrew nodded, busy amiss the rush, but kept Neil’s order at the forefront of his mind. Matt looked over at them from where he was dishing out food, and at one point, brought Neil over a sandwich.

“A turkey bacon and egg white nightmare for pretty boy Josten,” Matt said, stepping past Andrew.

Andrew scoffed as he hit the button on the blender, watching an iced drink get crushed by the blades. “Pretty boy Josten.” It was accurate and annoying. He’d not thought about Neil asking him on a date. Maybe he would tonight.

They completed the morning rush. Andrew had his drinks timed perfectly: start one, start two, finish one, start three, finish two… Even Renee gave him a thumbs up before she left to the back.

Andrew made Neil’s americano. Espresso and water. That was all it was. He put it in front of Neil. Paper cup. No latte art. Neil had finished his sandwich and for some reason, Andrew grabbed the empty bag and threw it away beneath the bar.

“This looks boring,” Neil said.

“Did you expect it to be red, white, and blue? To have the constitution written on the cup?”

Neil smiled, something frowny and humble. An odd look for him. “I guess not.”

Andrew watched him grab the cup. He’d put a sleeve on it, but boiling water was boiling water. He extended his hand before he knew it, “It’s hot.”

Neil froze, the cup halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened with something Andrew decided he wanted to ignore. Neil’s lips formed a small O as he blew softly on the drink.

“Thank you,” Neil said and took a sip. “Oh,”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“This is actually good,” Neil laughed.

No sugar. No milk. Bean water. Andrew wanted to make fun of Neil. Wanted to almost laugh. Of course, this is what he liked.

“What an athlete. Black coffee, turkey bacon breakfasts. Do you indulge in anything?”

Neil absorbed Andrew’s words, “The harassment of certain coffee shop baristas, I guess.”

It was another tease, another safe answer, keeping Andrew at arm’s length away. Maybe Neil wasn’t a flirt, maybe he was a liar. That didn’t explain his consistency in showing up at Andrew’s job.

“Uh-huh. And does your captain approve of your sudden intake of calories?” Andrew asked.

“Kevin? I’m sure he’d find my trips here beneficial.” Neil said.

That didn’t sit right within Andrew, but he set it aside to digest later. “I’m assuming you don’t listen to his rules, then,” is all he said.

Neil smiled, “Kevin is a good captain and a good friend, but they don't overlap. If they did, I’d have green smoothies for breakfast and grass-fed steak dinners and... I don’t know— I’d have to journal every night, to exercise my mind or something.”

A huff escaped Andrew’s mouth. “Can’t risk writing down your back story. Someone may get a hold of it and discover your origin planet.”

“Is that what you hypothesized?” Neil laughed, “That I’m an alien?” 

Yes. “No,” Maybe. Likely not.

“Want to know the truth?” Neil asked.

Andrew didn’t know. But anything but “No,” meant “Yes,” and he didn't know which he said out loud, but it didn’t matter. Neil’s answer would be the same.

The cocky asshole sipped his americano, and it was the perfect setup to his words, “You’ll have to go on a date with me to find out.”

Before Andrew could think of a reply, he caught Matt giving Neil a thumbs up. Kevin found Neil’s trips here beneficial? Matt was egging Neil on?

“No,” Andrew said, beginning to understand what was going on here. He wouldn’t be subject to anything like this. “Goodbye.”

Thankfully a group of three had walked in, so Andrew had an excuse to leave Neil to ring them up. He couldn’t wait to unpack this shit later.

“Oh. Okay, bye.” Neil said. Andrew heard it come quietly from behind his back, and then about a minute later, the door chimed.

Renee came back out. Matt took his ten-minute break. When he got back, Andrew would get to clock out. About halfway through Matt’s break, his shift supervisor came up to him.

“Any exciting Friday night plans?” Renee asked.

Andrew didn’t pause in counting his register, “No,”

“Same here,” Renee said. “Do you want to do something?”

And then Andrew did pause, “Like what?”

“I want to make tiramisu,” Renee said, “or well, try to make tiramisu.”

That got Andrew’s attention. He mentally went home, went to class, and imagined sitting in his empty apartment. Then he imagined a tolerable Renee and dessert. “What time?”

“Seven? I have to buy the ingredients.” Renee said. She looked delighted. “I’ll send you my address!”

“Okay,” Andrew said. His money added up. Neil did not.

-

Renee's apartment was as Andrew would have guessed it: filled with bohemian furniture, lots of pastel colors, funky artwork, and plants. Andrew stood out even more than he did at Fox Beans: a rotten apple. He believes it was intentional that Renee wore all black; likely to make Andrew feel more comfortable. It wasn't necessary, but it meant something. He stored the act away in his 'proof people aren't utterly terrible' piggy bank and continued dipping ladyfingers into the mixture of espresso and Frangelico before arranging them in the baking dish.

Renee was next to him beating egg whites. "So he just... keeps asking you on dates?" she asked. Andrew heard the smile in her voice. "I thought he was just a friend or... something."

"Or nothing," Andrew said.

Renee was quiet as she folded in the mascarpone. Then, she almost hesitantly said, "Do you want to go on a date with him?"

"I don't go on dates," Andrew replied.

"Not interested in romance?" Renee asked, bringing over the large mixing bowl and using a rubber spatula to spread a layer of cream over the soaked biscuits.

Andrew thought about it. A part of him was curious about romance, as one was curious about any foreign concept. But there was no sense of permanence around it, as there was no sense of permanence around anything. This tiramisu would last the weekend, until Monday, tops. Romance seemed just as fleeting, though Andrew supposes he was starting to find it in other things, like maybe coffee. Maybe in the photos he took. In the way the street lamps shine in arcs against the still cars beneath his fire escape. Could he possibly find it in a human, too? What would that mean?

"Did you bribe me with baking to play shrink?” Andrew asked, “Because I already have one of those.”

"No, I did not. I'm simply hanging out with a friend." Renee said. She halted in her layering and assisted Andrew in adding the second layer of soaked biscuits.

"Are you interested in romance?" Andrew asked. He'd never seen her take interest in anybody.

Renee scoffed, "I think it's a misconstrued word, honestly. I didn't even understand it until I looked up the definition."

Andrew was quiet, a wordless tell that he wanted her to keep going. His friend said, "Apparently, it's a feeling of excitement or mystery. Anything can be romanticized. Even life."

Andrew squeezed the ladyfinger he was holding a little too hard and it broke apart into the mixture of coffee and alcohol. Excitement and mystery. Isn't that how he felt in this library of life he'd been taking minuscule steps into? It was a faint buzz, maybe not excitement or hope, but something. Something solely Andrew.

"So yes, I'm interested in it. I'm trying to romanticize every little thing I can. I'd rather have that outlook on life than the endless void that haunts me." She ended the sentence with a forced laugh, and Andrew looked at the cross necklace around her neck. Renee never mentioned it, so he didn’t, either.

He let the dust particles that Renee disrupted settle back within him before he spoke. "Neil is a mystery. He's moved around a lot. He has one social media that dates back to his freshman year. You've seen his scars."

"Hmm," Renee licked some stray cream from the back of her hand, "he seems genuine. Charming. He's good at lacrosse, too. I've seen him play."

"He dropped out of nowhere," Andrew countered.

Renee didn't entertain him and did the final layer of cream before washing her hands. Andrew followed suit. The foam soap smelled like artificial strawberry pound cake and made his hands feel soft.

"Apparently I'm going to a party his team is hosting. Tomorrow." Andrew added.

"Oh," Renee smiled, dusting cocoa powder over the top of their dessert. "Exciting."

-

Tiramisu was supposed to chill for four to five hours. They made mini bowls with the leftover ingredients and froze them for thirty minutes before trying them. It was delicious. Renee gave Andrew a container to take home.

-

One am, cigarette smoke, soft music, flashing colors on curtains. Friday night cars heading home. Don’t look down. Take a chance. Mystery. Curiosity.

Were Kevin and Matt trying to get Neil to date Andrew? And if so— why? Did Neil even want to?

The world would be far crueler than Andrew believed it to be if not. If it had provided someone so enchanting as only a joke, or a lesson. Andrew closed his eyes against the night and thought of Neil: his relaxed composure, his smirk. The blue eyes Andrew got locked onto. His hair, soft and pullable. His arms resting on the bar. His lips that Andrew had begun to want to try for himself.

Then, his unfinished sentences; his scars. As though a reminder as to why not. And screw that, because it felt wrong to have Neil in his mind as only ungraspable smoke. Andrew wanted to know more, wanted to know why. How. He was interested, and that fact was unavoidable. Maybe a date wouldn’t hurt.

Chapter Text

Saturday

Andrew’s heart was beating only slightly harder than usual when he woke: the nightmare had placed him into the mindset of a child with a frozen fear response. When the fleeting images flashed in his mind, Andrew grit his teeth and made himself get up. He used to sit in the feeling of his nightmares. He thought he had to suffer through it, that somehow he’d brought the feelings on himself and deserved the pain of reliving them. It was a trap. He wouldn’t be able to take the record off of the track, it would only loop and loop. Andrew forced his fingers into a fist, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he did not have that fear response anymore. He let the memories of his nightmare pass over his mind like a cloud and kept his feet on the floor.

Andrew didn’t work on the weekends. The short shifts that went from six to two were covered by a pair of polar opposites: Jeremy was extremely charismatic and liked to ask a lot of questions, and Jean was tall and quiet and stared at Jeremy when the blond wasn't looking. Andrew had only met them once and was appreciative that he didn't work weekends if only to avoid their almost palpable sexual tension.

Nicky usually had some sort of club event on Saturdays but he had still managed to find the time to make them breakfast. Andrew found a plate of french toast waiting on the counter under a sheet of plastic wrap. He was heading to the fridge to grab maple syrup when Aaron met him in the kitchen. His brother grunted something that Andrew figured was a “good morning” before turning on the pot of coffee.

Andrew: thanks for the food

Nicky: you’re welcome :) don’t forget the party later!!

Andrew wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He enjoyed free booze and didn't mind watching Aaron and Nicky loosen up enough to enjoy themselves, but a college party was still draining. Unpredictable. Obnoxious. Andrew was thankful to live and work off-campus so he didn't have to be exposed to such people, as for someone so unknowingly lonely, he much preferred to be left alone.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and tried his best to make it taste halfway consumable. Working at the cafe had definitely spoiled him; Andrew was used to freshly ground heaven every morning, not their old, drip coffee maker that always produced something burnt and littered with grounds. He had to add three teaspoons of sugar and heavy cream before he could even consider drinking it. Aaron, who was behind on sleep and didn’t know any better, drank his black.

When Andrew went for the french toast, Aaron swat at his hand.

"Hey, no! We’re supposed to go to the gym! That’s going to put you right back to sleep." Aaron complained, sliding the plate to the other end of the counter.

Apparently, Aaron was in denial and did not think Andrew was going to do whatever he pleased. Andrew made deadly eye contact as he reached forward and grabbed the plate. Aaron, ever his clone, returned his glare.

"I'm supposed to exercise on an empty stomach? Absolutely not," Andrew said.

Aaron looked at the french toast and made his choice. "Fine, but I'm making us eggs. And spinach. We're eating spinach because we're well balanced."

"Name one thing about me that is well balanced," Andrew challenged, grabbing two plates from the cupboard.

Aaron was quiet for a moment. For a very long moment. Then he said, "Your breakfast is a good start," and cracked a few eggs into a bowl.

Andrew put powdered sugar on his french toast and Aaron put strawberry slices on his. They discussed the party as they ate (Andrew had the spinach and bit back his complaints) and concluded they’d show up around nine, which meant Andrew still had a whole day to waste. Maybe he could squeeze in a good nap. Annotate a book or zone out in front of the tv. The weather wasn't too bad, the sky a bright, bluish-grey outside of the kitchen window. Eventually, Aaron stopped talking and drifted off into the land of his phone, so Andrew checked his.

Neil: are you coming tonight?

Andrew: unfortunately

Apart from the fact that it was a party, Neil would be there. The Neil that Andrew was now determined to understand; the bridge he wanted to cross. He let anticipation, something dangerously close to both anxiety and excitement, blossom within himself.

Neil: cool, i'll look for you :)

Andrew would be looking for Neil, too, but he did not need to know that.

-

Despite going to the gym together, Andrew and Aaron did not work out as a pair. They were so incredibly dead set on not becoming the twins that did everything together that they dressed distinctively differently and parted ways just after getting out of the car. Aaron was even dramatic enough to wear a baseball cap. In fact, the only time they did interact is when one of them needed a spotter.

"Hey," Andrew said, after completing his bench press. Aaron, who was walking back towards the dumbbells, turned back to him, pulling an earbud out of one ear.

Andrew had been thinking about saying something to Aaron since his breakdown the previous weekend, and his session with Betsy had only egged him forward. He figured it was best to say something in a public place, where there was no room for emotions or feelings or too much sentiment.

When Andrew didn't reply, Aaron walked back over. Andrew pulled his armbands up, though they weren't slipping, and caught his breath before he said, "You know that if you need help with studying, you can ask me."

Aaron looked like a deer in headlights. Andrew knew how it felt to keep your worries hidden away from the world: internal struggles were yours and yours alone. But because they lived together there was now someone else looking. Someone to help, or whatever it was that a real family did. They'd figure it out.

Aaron schooled his face back to something impassive and nodded. "Yeah," he said, "I know."

"Okay," Andrew replied. He clenched his jaw against the awkwardness and looked away, scoping out the next machine in his routine.

Aaron said, "Thanks."

Andrew nodded and let Aaron walk away first, because he thinks lately he may have been ending conversations too abruptly.

Self-improvement was exhausting. Andrew needed a drink.

-

When they returned home, Aaron made chocolate banana protein shakes. They drank them while watching a documentary about mushrooms that slipped Andrew into a three-hour nap. When he woke up, disoriented and groggy, he took a shower, shaved, and grabbed some work to complete at the library. If he was going to spend time on campus, it would be to take advantage of the resources he was going so far deep into debt for.

He sat in a quiet spot on the second floor– an alcove with floor-to-ceiling windows and desks that only sat two. There weren't many people around, so Andrew pulled out his laptop, put in his headphones, and did as much as he could so that he could spend his Sunday lazily and responsibility-free. Before he knew it the sun was setting, early due to the spring, and Andrew downed the rest of the library's crappy kiosk coffee and collected his stuff. He'd read more chapters than he meant to. He'd planned one assignment and finished the rest. Apparently, his mind was quiet today. His rough wake-up call didn’t hold as much weight as it usually did.

Andrew checked his phone on the way out of the library doors.

Nicky: made us fooood so we can start drinking, come home!!

Aaron: i think you took my jeans

He felt content. It was a scary admission.

-

As he usually did when arriving at parties, Andrew questioned his sanity.

Because what had led him to make the decision to go to yet another loud, smoke-filled, and alcohol-heavy dorm, jam-packed with inebriated twenty-something-year-olds, all with their own ox-brained opinions and self-entitlement?

It seemed the answer lay somewhere between the company of his brother, who was, despite being a fire-fueled jackass, quite sensitive and cowardly, and his cousin, whose external sunlight needed a dark cloud to protect it.

Andrew didn’t mind his role in Nicky’s life. Everyone had their spot to fill. Andrew would never be the sunlight to someone, but he was okay with that.

The address that Neil texted Andrew was an extremely nice dorm on campus. Apparently being an athlete meant you got the star treatment, because it was less of a housing building and more of a tower. Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of the first buildings built at PSU all those years ago, due to the external stone architecture, but the inside was very obviously recently renovated. The bright, modern furniture was empty. Andrew figured whoever would choose to be in the athlete’s dorm was likely upstairs where the booze was.

The entirety of the third floor was a party that filled the halls and went between rooms as though they were exhibits. There was no order once lost in the masses. Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky managed to make their way past the drunk students and tables full of questionable punch and picked apart chips.

Nicky seemed delighted. Andrew knew he was used to crowded events, that they were his scene since he was a part of so many extracurriculars. It helped that he was an extrovert, fueled by social interaction.

Aaron looked unbothered at first, but looking closer, he seemed nervous. Andrew’s twin had been a little bit quieter at home as he got ready, when he took two pre-game shots, and in the car ride over. Andrew wonders if it's due to the asswipe from the last party or the girl he was talking to.

“Neil!” Nicky suddenly yelled.

Andrew’s attention followed his cousin’s gaze into the room they’d just walked past. Sure enough, Neil was leaning against a couch in a less-busy common area, talking with Matt. His attention was grabbed by Nicky’s voice, and his gaze shot over to where they were standing.

Their eyes met. It was a volt to the chest.

Neil smiled and stood up straighter as he called them over. Andrew followed his cousin, and not quite sure how to handle Neil yet, directed his attention to his coworker.

Matt looked happy to see him. “Andrew, what's up? It’s kinda crazy in here, huh?” Matt asked.

Andrew nodded and let himself feel more grounded in the tall man’s familiarity, feeling as though another person was in his corner. A friend.

He and Matt made small talk, (which meant Matt was discussing the party and Andrew was listening) but all Andrew could focus on was Neil in his line of vision. Andrew hadn’t yet seen him outside of the cafe, and it was a strange sight. There was not a counter between them, but empty space. They were really close in height. Neil had confidence in his slouch and a sense of attractive magnetism that gave Andrew the desire to get even closer. He took in Neil’s outfit instead. The athlete usually wore plain basics or gym wear and didn’t stray far from it tonight, clad in soft fabrics of dark colors.

Nicky knew that Neil and Andrew knew one another, but no one knew their dynamic, besides maybe Matt, who wasn’t as surprised as Nicky was when they finally spoke to one another.

“Hi, Andrew,” Neil said. His eyes carried all the secrets of their conversations.

“Neil,” Andrew said, “causing problems?”

Neil laughed, “Not yet. Do you want a drink?”

“Yes,” Andrew said.

Andrew ignored Nicky, who was extremely expressive and seemed to show all the dots he was connecting on his face. He looked between the two of them as though observing two creatures behind glass. It sort of felt that way as they looked at one another: that they were playing a different hand than everyone else. To his right, Matt stole Nicky’s attention by introducing himself.

Andrew briefly looked for Aaron, who had disappeared amiss in the chaos. Neil joined him at his side, so close that Andrew could have sworn he felt the air shift. 

“Your stunt double is in the corner with a cheerleader named Katelyn,” Neil said. Andrew followed the point of his finger to the edge of the room. Sure enough, the girl who Aaron had gotten punched for was there. Andrew scanned the room for any angry ex-boyfriends around and came up short. He looked away from the pair, hoping his brother would stay out of Andrew’s business as well.

Was Neil Andrew’s business?

Neil said, “You didn’t tell me you had a twin?”

Andrew looked back at him and replied, “I was also recently made aware.”

Neil’s mouth quirked in a silent question. Andrew sighed. “Later. Drinks?”

Still smiling, Neil nodded his head towards the kitchen. Andrew surveyed Nicky and Matt before following. They seemed to be getting along well, talking about what they both usually did: Matt’s dog that was back home, and Nicky’s boyfriend that was studying in New York.

In the kitchen, they found Kevin as the makeshift bartender. Andrew didn’t brace himself for the jock’s presence as he had the first time they met. Instead, he would try to look for something besides the annoying traits he’d originally latched on to.

“Neil, you alright?” Kevin asked when he spotted them.

“Yeah,” Neil said.

Kevin greeted Andrew and poured him a drink. It didn’t seem to be their dorm– Andrew knew they used the word “roommates” and not “dormmates”– but Kevin seemed happy to be in charge of the alcohol. The man himself appeared more relaxed thanks to the drinks. Andrew wondered how many of their teammates were around, and how much alcohol Kevin had consumed in order for him to not bring lacrosse in the last couple of minutes, though the man didn’t seem to have much else to say when not talking about his sport or his team. Andrew knew there had to be more under the surface. Maybe one day he’d get to find out.

Eventually, Kevin gets side-tracked by another party-goer in need of booze, and Andrew can focus on Neil. He looks at the mystery leaning beside him. When getting ready for tonight, Andrew was reminded of the days spent swiping on hook-up apps, full of meaningless conversations, and putting cologne on underneath nice clothes.

This felt different, and Andrew itched with both hesitance and wanting more. He didn’t know what to expect from Neil, but the undeniable interest between them seemed to carry something with enough potential as a Chapter One. Andrew and Neil were the authors, with only a blinking insertion point.

“Do you have any colors in your wardrobe?” Neil asked, suddenly.

Andrew leaned next to him and shoved all of the uncertainty from his mind, relying only on the biological code within him: the pull towards another being.

“Yes,” Andrew said, squinting.

“Hmm. That’s hard to believe,” Neil teased.

Andrew matched his tone, “What, are you asking for proof?”

Neil quired an eyebrow. “And if I am?”

There were no more questions as to if they were flirting: that’s what they were doing, in bold, underlined letters. Andrew had to keep remembering that he was at a party, because everything in his mind was eager to narrow solely to Neil.

There were things he wanted to know. Secrets to be uncovered.

“What about the skeletons rumored to be in one’s closet?” Andrew asked, reminding both himself and Neil that this would not be easy.

Neil only shrugged, “Everyone has a past. That’s not all that’s interesting.”

No, Andrew supposes, it was not. If one was only what happened to them, there would be no fight left over. The reason you kept going was something entirely separate. Sure, one could be sculpted into a piece of well-worked art, but they were more than the world that shaped them. They were both the untouched medium and the finished product, trying to become something one and the same.

Neil, unbeknownst to both of them, had just created his own permanent spot in Andrew’s mind.

“Interest is self-serving,” Andrew says, after a moment.

“Is it?” Neil asks, angling his body even more so towards Andrew. Andrew sips at his drink to push away the building desire. Or, to numb the part of him that wishes to push the desire away. After thinking about it, Neil shrugs. “I think a little selfishness can be good, as long as it’s not all you care about.”

“Is that not all you care about?” Andrew asked.

“No,” Neil said. “I think it’d be nice to care about someone else.”

Andrew had questions that needed answering before this. “Tell me why Kevin finds your trips to the cafe beneficial.”

Neil looked over Andrew’s shoulder at the taller man and then back at Andrew. “Okay. Let’s go somewhere quieter?”

Andrew downed his drink and nodded. Neil finished his as well. Nicky and Matt had reigned in more people, one of them being Dan, who was under Matt’s arm. Andrew did not want to touch that little fact. He caught Aaron’s eye before following Neil out of the dorm.

-

They entered an elevator at the end of the hall, and Neil hit the button to the sixth floor before leaning against the wall opposite Andrew. There was something heavy rippling between them, and for a moment, Andrew almost wanted to ask if he could close the distance. Say screw it, let’s end this now, but that would be too easy. Neil seemed to be slightly on edge. Maybe he was thinking about sex as Andrew was. Maybe he was intent on sharing something that not many people knew.

They got out on the sixth floor, the opening elevator doors showing them an identical hallway to those below, though unfilled with people. An alternate universe.

“Where are you taking me?” Andrew asked.

And Neil said, “A little trust?”

There was a stairwell next to the elevator bank that Neil entered, and Andrew followed him up the stairs. The door to the roof opened unexpectedly– there was duct tape discreetly covering the automatic lock. Andrew figured this must be a hideout for Neil, somewhere private, away from everyone else. The roof showed the campus around them, the surrounding town, the distant rise and fall of the world.

The night was cold– Andrew was thankful for his jacket. Neil was dressed warmly as well. He walked out and sat feet away from the edge.

Andrew wanted to curse at whoever had designed this building, because only a foot-high ledge ran the perimeter of the roof. Neil seemed unbothered, but Andrew stood feet behind him, just past the door. He’d gotten used to the height of his fire escape, but not this. Fear was vulnerable and left Andrew open to even more uncontrollable feelings. Neil had put him under the spotlight without even trying.

Neil looked back at him, and when he saw his expression, a softness fell over his face. “Oh. You don’t like heights.”

Andrew made his legs move and pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. He sat a foot behind Neil. “No, I do not.”

The flick of the lighter spoke next. Andrew took in smoke and tried to look out at the horizon– at the line of buildings– and not down. Neil was erupting enough in him, bubbling within his chest like lava. He’d focus on overcoming one thing at a time. 

Neil took a deep breath, surely inhaling much of Andrew’s secondhand smoke. Andrew considered the fact that Neil smoked too and offered his pack to him. Neil took it.

“We can leave if you want,” Neil said. The cigarette bobbed between his lips as he spoke, and it did something manipulative to Andrew’s bloodstream. Instead of answering, he snicked the lighter and held it to Neil’s mouth. Blue eyes were lit up by a flame as Neil leaned towards Andrew, lighting his cigarette.

Drinks, phones, cigarettes– would they hand over one another, next?

Neil inhaled and pulled the cigarette from his lips. “I don’t like open spaces.”

It was the start of an understanding. Andrew waited for Neil to explain.

“I’ve lived in a lot of cities. I kept my head down. I don’t like– I almost can’t stand– that ,” Neil said, gesturing above himself.

Andrew couldn’t help but look up. The sky was a vast darkness. Stars were littered here and there. There was no moon. Andrew thought of tall city buildings hiding all of this.

“So you come up here to feel something,” Andrew said. He didn’t understand Neil’s fear, but he understood fear itself. To Andrew, the sky was only the sky. “Why?”

Neil laughed, “Who knows? I don’t like the sea either.” He took a drag, “I like to feel…”

“Grounded,” Andrew said, remembering how Neil had sat down almost as soon as coming out to the roof. “I get it.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Their truths were balanced. A birth city, a fear, the person who brought them to where they are now. Andrew felt irritation at the bleakness of it all.

“What’s your zodiac sign?” Andrew asked. He knew nothing about zodiac signs, but it reminded him of Renee– someone getting over their own darkness.

Neil scoffed, “That’s a tricky question.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, assuming Neil was possibly like his coworker, someone into star charts and sun signs–

“I was born a Capricorn, but Neil Josten is an Aries,” Neil said.

Andrew’s cigarette froze on the way to his mouth.

“Let me tell you about Kevin, first,” Neil said. A small, tired smile was on his lips. “It will make sense.”

And then Neil explained, and one of those books in the library that was Andrew’s world, one that was hidden behind a secret door, coated in cobwebs, was opened.

Neil told the story of him and Kevin. Two boys, raised as star athletes, meant to hold up the sports team front for a notorious crime ring. Or to put it bluntly– the mafia. He spoke of a good, private man, with his own motive to be with his son, who exposed the organization to the FBI after years of planning. How that man and his son rounded up those lost to a fake team and made them real athletes at PSU, giving them a second chance.

“He found me in Arizona,” Neil said. There was a rare fondness for Kevin in his voice. “Asked me if I wanted to make my skill my own. He’s convincing enough.” Neil let loose a laugh, gesturing to himself, his current location.

So the bird that Andrew had seen within Neil was not a hawk. It was a Raven.

“How did you get to Arizona?” Andrew asked.

Neil’s face went blank, something within him taking shelter to speak the next part. Years before the end, his mother had taken Neil and ran. And ran. And ran. To several different corners of the world with a bag full of stolen money. Neil Josten was a government-issued name. “Abram” was his first– well, the only part of his first name that belonged solely to him.

The lights on the surrounding buildings moved– people watching tv, moving around their homes, existing. And then there were Neil and Andrew. Trying to do the same, on a roof, under the void. 

Andrew finished his current cigarette and flicked it over the edge. So this was Neil– there were missing pieces, facts left open, but Andrew accepted this, for now, and filed it away. Neil wasn’t an alien. He was a runaway. He was living for the first time. He was trying new things and– pretending.

“Okay,” Andrew said. He didn’t ask if the scars on Neil's face were a result of it all, he didn't need to. They were an unfortunate proof of authenticity.

“Okay?” Neil asked. Andrew nodded. Neil looked between his eyes and then his shoulders slouched against Andrew’s stability. Andrew knew the world was cruel, knew the people were, too.

And it was Andrew’s turn. He dug his fingernails into his palms, getting a literal hold on himself, and looked at the edge of the roof. Then he cracked open his own book. He told Neil about his biological mother keeping only one twin. How he preferred juvie to the twelve different foster homes. How Aaron found him, how Nicky can’t stand to live with his parents, but isn’t yet ready to fully leave. How they got an apartment together after Tilda overdosed. He didn’t mention anything else. Not regarding– not now.

Neil listened, and in the end, he nodded. “There’s more.”

Yes. Andrew looked at him, “There’s always more.”

And Neil said, “Okay.”

They sat in angry silence. At what the world had done to one another, to themselves. At the fact that they had to discuss this in the first place. But they seemed to have known, the first time the eyes of poison hazel met venom blue, that it was supposed to happen. That the world said, “Your lines aren’t parallel. They were coming to a point.” They had gulped past one of the many hard parts. It was now over. They were still there, for the most part. Andrew let himself feel his anger: the fire in his heart, the flex of his muscles, the clench of his jaw, and watched it slowly fade away.

After a moment, Neil stood up, and Andrew watched him look right up at the sky. Andrew stood too, only he looked down, off the edge of the roof. Minutes passed. Then they looked at each other. Still there.

“Come on,” Neil said, with a soft smile. “Let’s go do something else.”

Something other than being in the past.

-

Neil and Andrew went back to the elevators and took one to the opposite end of the building– the basement. The empty floor contained a small gym for the athletes, storage closets, a bike garage, and–

“It’s heated,” Neil said, punching in the code to the indoor pool. The fluorescent room was filled with the scent of chlorine and a steady whir of machines. The pool itself was a cool blue, bouncing the pattern of water across the ceiling and walls. It was medium-sized and eighteen feet at its deepest, filled with dancing lights beneath the movement of the small waves. Andrew stood by Neil and stared at it. He hadn’t swum in years.

“Absolutely not,” Andrew said.

Neil smiled at him before he went over to another door. He disappeared inside and came back out with two towels anyway.

“Don’t swim if you don’t want to,” Neil said. He set the towels on one of the benches lining the walls. “I am, though.”

Andrew clenched his jaw and walked to the edge of the pool to feel the water. It was cold, but considering this was a basement in February, he could tell it was being heated. “I’m going to drown you,” he said.

Neil snorted and toed off his sneakers. “That would require getting in.”

Andrew heard Nicky’s catchphrase in the back of his mind: “Let’s try something different!” According to his upbeat cousin, that was the only, quite literal way to change something that you didn’t like about your life. And Andrew didn’t like feeling tethered down or hesitant, no, he had new neural pathways to pave. So instead of rejecting the idea, he’d try swimming. If he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t do it again, but he’d try it at least once. With Neil.

Andrew considered if someone were to come in before he realized that he didn’t care. Not as long as the playful expression that was currently lighting up Neil’s face stayed where it was.

“Fine,” Andrew said. He took off his shoes after briefly soaking in Neil’s grin. He looked away when the other man began to remove his sweatpants and tried not to think too hard about whether he was currently on a date or not.

Andrew shrugged off his jacket, which was holding his phone, keys, wallet, and the almost empty cigarette pack. He kept on his long sleeve shirt. Neil pulled off his sweatshirt and kept on his white tee and pair of briefs. Andrew undid his belt and jeans, leaving his boxers on, and then their clothes were haphazardly folded along with their socks, discarded next to the towels.

“Okay, well,” Neil said, and then he went over to the deep end. Neil was in ridiculous shape. Andrew watched him move; his arms and legs were sharp, muscular angles softened by smooth, tan skin and therefore incredibly distracting. Andrew had no desire to look away. Thankfully, they weren’t above water for long before Neil jumped in. The splash was a shot that echoed in waves throughout the room, and an equally matched wave of amusement fluttered throughout Andrew at the sight. At Neil’s whoop.

Neil’s head broke the surface and he flipped the now dark, wet hair from his eyes. He turned, met Andrew’s gaze, and a grin cracked across his face. He looked happy. Despite it all. Right now, Neil Josten looked like he was grabbing his life back and narrowing it down to moments. Including jumping into an empty pool with someone who wanted to be there with him.

“Coming?” Neil asked. His limbs moved as he waded to the edge of the pool, stopping beneath Andrew.

Andrew looked down at him and asked, “Do you prefer cats or dogs?”

Neil laughed, his brows pinching in question. “Cats, definitely.”

Andrew got down and put his legs over the edge into the cold water. Neil swam back, giving him some space as he got in. It was fucking freezing, and he could practically feel the rest of the buzz from the drinks leave his body.

Neil’s smile grew as Andrew fully dropped in. “Welcome.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Andrew said. His body was adjusting, his shirt now stuck to his shivering torso. Andrew took a breath and dipped fully under the water, wetting his face and hair.

Neil was still watching him when he came back up. “What about you?” Neil asked. “Cats or dogs?”

“What do you think?” Andrew replied. His voice shook a little in the cold, but it was slowly getting better. He swiped his hair back and kept himself up as they moved from the wall. Neil’s eyes, just inches above the water, were hypnotic. The bright blue of the pool reflected off of his irises, his face. Andrew looked down at Neil’s lips and wondered how they’d feel against his own, lost in the sensation of being lured to sea. 

“Cats,” Neil said, bringing Andrew back to their conversation. “What's your favorite season?”

Usually, it was winter, but Andrew was cold and wanted the dry heat of the sun, so he said summer. Their truth game went from darkness to domestic as they swam around one another. Neil preferred savory, Andrew preferred sweet. Neil was a morning person, Andrew was a night owl. Neil liked movies, Andrew liked books, but they both enjoyed horror. Neither one of them had ever been on a rollercoaster.

“I was surprised when you followed me on Instagram,” Neil suddenly confessed.

They had eventually made it back over to the wall, and Andrew rested an arm over the ledge of the pool. “It was an accident,” he said, truthful.

“Oh, really?” Neil teased.

“I found your page, yes, but I didn’t mean to follow you,” Andrew said. He couldn’t help but let the words flow and felt as though if he kept speaking, he’d spill everything to Neil, including the fact that he felt forever infected by the inconsequential virus of their meeting. It made Andrew want to close up, to go away, but that was not an option. Balance was. And if he suspended himself in the water, and the universe moved the Earth so that he drifted closer to Neil, then he’d allow it.

“Ah. Okay. Well, that makes me feel much better about stalking your page .” Neil said, sarcastic. Then, “Where is that fire escape?”

Andrew went through his posted pictures in his mind to remember the one Neil was talking about: a shot of the ground beneath his bedroom window, taken through the bars of his smoking spot. “My apartment,” Andrew answered.

“Hmm. I’ve never been on one before,” Neil said. Dramatic images of Neil on the run entered Andrew’s thoughts; his auburn head escaping out of windows with his mother, a woman with a question mark for a body. He thought of big cities and all of the fire escapes within them. He thought of the burns on Neil’s cheek, maybe not from a flame. He wonders what else Neil has and has not experienced. He wants there to be more of the good.

It was Andrew’s turn, and his words were a spell that cast their private moment to narrow even further, down to the mere inches between them. “Have you ever been kissed?”

That drags Neil from his thoughts. He blinks wet eyelashes. “Yes, actually.”

Andrew doesn’t know how he feels about that. He stays still, the water moving around them. They should get out soon. They should. But Andrew doesn’t move: Neil’s eyes are the pins in the butterflies within him.

“Have you ever been on a date?” Neil asked.

Andrew wants to kiss him. “Not before this.”

Neil’s eyes widened slightly. “Neither have I,” he said, after a moment. “Not before this.”

Andrew knows he’d do this again. That now that what he avoided is in front of him, he’s a little bit further. He took one step forward and ended up a little bit closer to Neil. He wants to kiss him, and it’s because of the bit of excitement and mystery he feels at that moment.

“Andrew,” Neil whispers. Rhetorical. A hook in his attention.

“Neil,” Andrew breathes. A tether right back. They’ve gotten close, their eyelids heavy and begging to shut. Their noses brush, and Neil nods his head slightly. A silent request that would be impossibly cruel to deny. 

So Andrew kisses him. Their lips meet in a soft press of cold and wet, but Neil’s mouth is hot, and Andrew chases it. A kiss has never felt so dangerous in its delicacy. The gentle brush of Neil’s tongue against Andrew’s is enough to change his view on romance. Their kiss is a greeting to a life capable of living: Neil wasn’t Andrew’s answer, he was his paradigm shift. Andrew would be willing to feel the fear of wanting someone. The soft noise Neil made the moment their lips met said that maybe he was willing, too.

Neil pulls away, and his slight pants are warm across Andrew’s mouth. Neil looks down and holds his hand over Andrew’s beneath the water, and Andrew lets him hold it. In a heartstopping moment, Neil takes Andrew’s hand and pulls it close to his body. He slips it under his floating shirt and presses Andrew’s palm to his side. Andrew freezes when he realizes that his palm touches the raised, ripped skin of a scar. Neil nods against his lips as they meet again, as he lets go of Andrew’s hand. Andrew spreads his fingers, smoothing over the scars across Neil’s waist, his belly. The slashes over his ribs. Andrew wouldn’t be able to see beneath the rippled, wet fabric, or the moving water, but his hands can, and they catch on all that he can of this truth. He coats it with the kisses he doesn't cease. Neil lets him take and take, giving just as much.

Eventually, Andrew had to pull away, because their breath was turning heavy, and they were still in a pool, and drowning before he could have Neil entirely was not an option.

“Neil,” Andrew breathed. Neil seemed to get it– he nodded, though his attention was unfocused, his eyes still on Andrew’s lips. Because one of them had to make sure they didn’t catch colds, Andrew pulled himself out of the pool, his drenched clothes a nightmare on his skin. He wrapped a towel around his neck and brought one to Neil.

Neil was looking up at him from the water, and Andrew didn’t know what to do with the look in his eyes: a careful mixture of heat and something shy. It went right to Andrew’s groin.

“Neil, get out and dry off,” Andrew said, swallowing. Neil listened. They dried as best as they could, but there was little they could do with wet clothes and chlorine-soaked skin. Neil seemed to be in some sort of daze— Andrew wasn’t sure if he’d ever been kissed like that before, wasn’t sure if Neil’s ears were red from the cold or a blush or both. Andrew asked if the gym had showers, and Neil said they did. He called Kevin as they headed over. 

“Okay. And bring me one of Jeremy’s shirts,” Neil said before hanging up. They walked barefoot to the small locker room, and Neil waited outside the stall-less showers as Andrew rinsed the pool from his body and warmed up. When he heard Kevin’s deep voice echo throughout the room, he shut off the water and dried off, wrapping the towel around his hips.

Kevin and Neil stopped talking when he entered the locker room. Andrew tried not to feel smug about Neil’s eyes landing directly on his naked torso before they tore away. So red ears were a blush, then.

“Hi,” Andrew said.

Kevin was drunk. His eyes were hazy, his smile warm and dazed, and he was using one of the lockers as a crutch. “Andrew! Do you work out?”

“Okay, I’m freezing, so, just ignore him,” Neil said, smiling before swiftly departing into the showers behind Andrew.

Andrew watched him go, then looked down at the clothes in his hands. Neil’s sweatshirt was folded on top. Andrew pulled it on, not stopping to appreciate its smell or its softness against his bare chest in front of Kevin. 

“I’m proud of him,” Kevin said. Andrew pulled on his jeans, not caring about a drunk Kevin, who’d likely been with countless naked men in locker rooms. Andrew was lacing his shoes when Kevin spoke again, “Told him if he could find a date– I’d leave him alone.”

Andrew stilled for a moment before he said, “Leave him alone?” He shrugged on his jacket, checking for his valuables.

“Mm-hm.” Kevin nodded. Andrew’s eyebrows were pulled together. He heard the water from the showers running, but something about Kevin’s words had all his attention on the taller man. “He said I nagged him. I didn’t. I cared. He said that he didn’t swing, that he didn’t want to be with anybody. I–” Kevin hiccupped, “told him to try. If he wanted to feel normal. He had to try.”

It took a moment to process, admittedly. Tonight was a whirlwind and Kevin had just shot Andrew with another surprise. When he understood, the only thing beneath Andrew’s feet, the only thing holding him up, was anger.

“Did you ever think–” Andrew began, before cutting himself off. There was no use explaining things to a drunk person. He grit his teeth and pulled out his phone: a missed text from Nicky said that he and Aaron were looking for him. Andrew’s mind was scrambling, trying to go back to Neil, to analyze the kiss, his actions, his words, but he couldn’t. He should have asked if Neil was even–

Andrew got nauseous. Not here. He pushed Kevin into a seating position, so the idiot didn’t fall over and crack his skull open, and left. The shower water was still running.

“He said that he didn’t swing, that he didn’t want to be with anybody.”

Andrew bit back all of the things threatening to take him over and went upstairs. His hair was still wet. He found Nicky and Aaron with Matt, and didn’t say a word besides, “Let’s go.”

Sunday

Neil: Andrew?

Missed call (1)

New voicemail (1)

“Hey, Andrew. It’s Neil. Um, I don’t know why you left last night, I– I hope Kevin didn’t say anything.” An intake of breath, “I really liked spending time with you. I realized that…” A pause, “That when I’m not lost in the shit I went through— when I’m just here, I feel okay. Happy, maybe.” A scoff, “I don't know if you get that, I don’t even know if I do, but–” A sigh, “I want good and bad from this life, and I’d be happy if you were there, too.” Another pause, “Anyway. Call me back. Or just– just let me know you’re okay. Alright. Bye.”

Chapter Text

Sunday

Andrew woke up in a dim room and a quiet apartment. When consciousness settled within him, a sense of guilt accompanied it, dreadful enough to feel like a shift and sink of the mattress. He had no desire to get out of bed, so Andrew rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't see it without his contacts, but Andrew knew the cobweb he'd always forgotten to clean was still there. It hung next to the light, an inanimate companion since they first moved in, and was given power by Andrew's exhausted, reeling brain. It meant that this chapter would continue, that the world was not the chaos of his mind, that his thoughts were so weak that they couldn't even move a web. No matter what his brain tried to tell him, everything would be okay. And if not okay, it'd at least remain the same.

He had to count his breathing, but Andrew eventually fell back asleep.

When he woke again, it was two in the afternoon, and he had a voicemail. It only took the first crack of Neil's voice for Andrew to know that he'd never delete it. As soon as the message ended, Andrew listened to it again, Neil's raspy words becoming something never-ending, directly in his ear. His rapidly beating heart was out of place in his still form. Distantly, Andrew heard running water and the footfalls of his cousin or brother moving around the living room, but he didn't move. He stayed in bed, replaying: both the voicemail and the kiss he had shared.

Andrew thought of Neil's wide, beautiful eyes, and how they looked at him under the night sky and told a different story than Kevin’s words. He thought of how he wished he’d stayed and dismissed the drunk man's thoughts. He thought of a force, holding him back, one that inflicted fear and guilt and shame. One that said Andrew was at fault, that he should have covered all of Neil's bases, that he should have known better and asked, first.

The voicemail looped. Andrew would accept just one more rooftop smoke. Just one more look.

He wanted to explain, understand, get up, and call Neil back, but he couldn't. It was one of the harder days. All that could be done was sleep with his phone pressed to his ear.

Monday

Nicky came to visit Andrew at his job.

On Andrew’s break, they sat at a round table by the windows. The sidewalk outside was busy with morning commuters, and here and then, a car would pass down the street. Nicky ordered a chocolate croissant and talked the whole way through it, buttery pastry flaking across the table as he broke it apart. Andrew sat back in the wooden chair and listened. Listened to stories about Erik, listened to complaints about club members, listened to Nicky exist. He let Nicky care for him in the only way he knew how: his cousin had left Andrew dinner outside of his bedroom door the previous night, and now he was late to class, choosing instead to check in on Andrew at work.

“So,” Nicky slowly said, taking his time to pick the right words. “Do I need to discontinue my tutoring sessions with a certain lacrosse player?”

Scars under body armor. Neil’s limbs, bare in a crystal pool, built with enough muscle for a powerful swing, a fast run. Runner–

“No,” Andrew said.

Nicky leaned back in his chair. He fit right in at the cafe. His curls were big and his smile was kind. He knew how to project his voice. He was energetic in the morning. Andrew, on the other hand, couldn’t fake approachability with his stoic expression and unimpressed aura.

Nicky took a sip of his cappuccino and said, “It’s scary, huh?”

He didn’t have to explain himself. Andrew knew. He looked away. There were a few people in line, and his ten-minute break had just pushed into fifteen. He didn’t reply to Nicky, but Nicky knew that Andrew was not one to hold back a disagreement. His silence was an answer just as clear.

Nicky had helped the minutes pass, so Andrew said, “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

There were no more welcomed visitors.

Tuesday

It was a rare occasion that the twins went into one another’s room.

Andrew sat at Aaron’s desk, turning back and forth in his swivel chair with one of his brother’s textbooks opened across his legs. Aaron was on his bed, with his hair a stress-pulled mess and his cheeks a frustrated red as he attempted to absorb the information on the papers in his hand. Andrew thought Aaron would chew his thumbnail off before they could get through the current chapter’s notes, so he sighed and stretched his legs, deciding that they were due for a break.

Andrew asked, “Why is Kevin Day a douchebag?”

Aaron looked up at him. “Huh?”

“You said last week that Kevin Day was a douchebag. I might agree, so I’d like to know why you think so,” Andrew explained.

Frowning, Aaron set down the papers. “Because. Have you seen him around campus? He’s a tall jock with a superiority problem.”

Aaron was too smart to be jealous but just as stubborn as Andrew, so he’d do what he wanted and change on his own time. Because of this, Andrew said nothing about Aaron’s comment, though he did feel a strange sense of defensiveness. After Saturday, he could understand why Kevin put so much energy into his team, why he was a little more absorbent of the drinks. The only difference between Kevin and Neil was the lack of scars, but Andrew knew there were undeniable ones underneath.

When Andrew said nothing, Aaron spoke again. “Why do you care, anyway? Does this have to do with Neil Josten?”

It was weird hearing someone say his name. Andrew had briefly convinced himself that Neil was a hallucination, but Aaron’s spoken words had brought him back into existence. The thought of rough lips was unwelcome at that moment, so Andrew looked at Aaron’s window and imagined his fire escape beside it. It grounded him well enough. 

Andrew swallowed before he spoke. “Yes. It does.”

He wasn’t looking at Aaron, but Andrew knew from the rustle of clothes that his twin was shocked by Andrew’s truth.

“I saw you two talking with Kevin at the party before you left,” Aaron said. He left the sentence open, perhaps expecting Andrew to fill in any gaps.

Andrew didn’t plan to do that. Now was not the time, and there would maybe never be a day where they spoke about the people they were seeing to one another.

“Let’s not,” Andrew replied. “I won’t ask about Katelyn, and you won’t ask about Neil. Got it?”

Aaron squinted his eyes. How do you know her name?

Andrew raised a brow. I have my sources.

They went back to studying after a silent agreement. Andrew let his strong memory aid his brother and helped him not panic over all of his work. When Aaron began to get overwhelmed, late into the evening, Andrew put down his container of lo mein and set him straight. “You’re stressed, you’re tired, and you’re emotional. As someone who is none of those things right now, trust me when I say that this is nothing you can’t handle. Take a second, get your shit together, and then let’s keep going.”

Wednesday

Andrew spoke to Betsy about his week, starting with the sudden appearance of one Neil Josten: the alien afraid of space. In only a few days the universe had provided someone who had created such an explosive impact. Neil was the meteor that had thrown Andrew off-kilter, and now there was an exposed, burning core left in his wake.

Betsy could listen, provide advice, rich hot chocolate, and ask Andrew questions to dig into his mind, but she was not a life coach, and she could not tell Andrew what to do. Still, he knew what she would say if she were a friend. “If you’re ready to explore the idea of having a partner, and you think that Neil is someone who could understand you and respect your needs, I say go for it.”

Instead, after Andrew told her his morose side of what had happened, she nodded and said, “Well, I don’t know if that’s the only way to look at the situation.”

Andrew secretly welcomed it. Focusing on the facts, things weren’t as catastrophic as they seemed. It was a skill he learned in his first month with Betsy, yet when panic set in, his mind had thrown out the capability to call on it. After their session, Andrew felt slightly more able to process himself and the ways of thinking he was trying to make work.

Thursday

Things started to feel normal again. The mornings remained too early, Andrew’s alarm was repeatedly snoozed, Aaron still knocked on the wall, and dead shots were continuously downed.

Renee and Matt hadn’t asked Andrew about Saturday, and he’s thankful because he doesn’t know how to say that it went baseline well and Andrew-line terrible. Acquire feelings for a boy, kiss said boy, learn said boy maybe doesn’t like boys. Feel intense guilt and leave. Both parties end up with copious amounts of rejection and too much doubt to reach out to one another. It’s idiocy at its finest, and Andrew realized maybe coffee shop romances aren’t as stupidly unrealistic as they seem.

“Neil’s been sort of distant lately,” Matt said the words quickly, a throwaway sentence shoved into small talk with Renee, but Andrew latched onto it. He poured sweet cream over a cold brew (an excessive amount, the customer should thank him) and handed it off. The guy the drink was for had deep brown eyes and thanked him with too lingering a look. Andrew ignored him and made the next drink, an americano for another Somebody that didn’t matter.

Renee replied after handing off a drip coffee. “Oh? Is he okay?”

Matt and Andrew made eye contact. Renee looked over her shoulder to follow Matt’s gaze, and then he had both of his coworker’s eyes on him.

“What?” He said, with actually no lilt of a question at all and more like one accepting their self-inflicted doom.

Matt caught his discomfort and looked back at the pastry case he was arranging, steering the conversation once again towards himself. “Nothing. He gets like this sometimes. He’ll do extra practices with Kevin and then leave at like, four am to go on runs. If I didn’t work an opening shift I’d take all the sleep I could get. I don’t know how he does it.” Matt finished with a lighthearted tone, but his worry showed on his face. Andrew rinsed a steaming pitcher out and tried not to place any more weight from Matt’s words on his shoulders. His efforts were futile.

The front door chimed a while later. Matt had gone on his break, and because the shift was slow, Renee went to do the count, so Andrew was left alone. He tied the garbage bag he’d just emptied and stood up to help the customer, only to find Kevin on the other side of the bar.

“Hi,” Kevin said.

Andrew couldn’t help but look for Neil, but Kevin was alone. He sighed, “What do you want? Matt’s on his break.”

“I want to talk to you, actually,” Kevin said.

Andrew likely would have clocked out right then if Kevin had wanted nothing more than to order his matcha, but that was not the case, so he stayed where he was. Probably would have been too dramatic, anyway.

“Okay,” Andrew said. He grabbed some almond milk and waited for Kevin to speak.

“It’s about Saturday. I think I said something stupid– No, I know I did. I remember feeling like a jackass as the words came out. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t think that’s why Neil started to talk to you. When I first suggested dating, he told me I could take my idea of ‘normal’ and shove it, and he’s right, it was dumb, but my point is that he never thought twice about it.” Kevin was rambling, so Andrew drowned out his voice by loudly steaming the milk. It was quite satisfying to see the taller man snap his mouth shut. Still, he had good intentions, so Andrew continued working on the drink before the milk finished, buying himself time to collect his own thoughts.

When the drink was done, Andrew said, “Matt mentioned him. Did Neil tell you why he’s being weird?”

Kevin said. “No. He’s not talking to either of us. Honestly, I think he’s pissed at me and your leaving didn’t help. Have you talked to him?”

Guilt, immediately fought by reasoning and facts. An ode to Betsy. Andrew clenched his teeth and shook off the feeling. Neil kissing Andrew didn’t help either if he was asexual, but those weren’t words for Kevin. Andrew just said, “No.”

“Well, fuck. Look. It was wrong for me to say anything at all. Just talk to him. No one can explain it better than he can.” Kevin said. He was right, he was wrong. He was also trying.

Andrew was planning on talking to Neil once he recentered, but now that Kevin had told him to, a feline, spiteful part of him wanted to say no. He squashed it away, along with the entraining idea of messing with Kevin. Andrew put the unsweetened almond milk matcha latte on the counter, and said, “Okay.”

Friday

Dan: Hey, would it be okay if you closed tonight instead of opening? Jeremy can come in now to help Renee and Matt, but not tonight. Seth has plans and I forgot to get coverage, and Matt and I are going out, so I have to be gone by five.

Andrew: ok

Andrew’s manager could have just said, “You’re closing,” and he would have agreed because it meant he didn’t have to get out of bed yet. He turned off his alarms and found himself genuinely pleased to go back to sleep. When he woke up again at ten, well-rested and satisfied, he went to search for caffeine and food. Nicky, who was singing along to music in the kitchen, screamed when Andrew walked in.

“I thought you were at work!” Nicky yelled, clenching his chest.

The corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched. “Seems I was becoming too predictable.”

It was an overcast, cold day, meant to be spent on the couch. Andrew sat down with his mug of the terrible excuse for coffee and let his mind wake up while he numbly scrolled on his phone. It took a double-take, but then when his brain processed that Neil had posted something, Andrew rapidly scrolled back up his feed.

Neil had posted five pictures of coffee.

As he looked at them, Andrew’s heart rose to sit in his throat.

The first was the most visually pleasing: the lavender oat milk latte that had a giant, layered heart in the foam. The second was the chai tea latte, a picture that Andrew had seen Neil take himself, topped with three leaves. The third was the same latte but poured into an ice cup. Andrew still took his time to look at it. At Neil’s fingers holding it up, at his shoes standing on the sidewalk beneath it. The fourth picture was of the americano, mostly gone. Andrew didn’t remember Neil taking that one. The last was the first drink that Andrew made Neil, a latte with messed-up foam. The side of the cup held Andrew’s written scribble, per Neil’s request.

nothing sweet

NeilJos10: Apparently I like coffee now.

-

Andrew arrived at Fox Beans after his one afternoon class. Dan was there, ready to give him a mocha and a rundown of the morning shift. Afterward, Andrew settled in and they worked together on orders and small tasks, barely speaking. There were fewer customers than usual; the week was coming to an end, and people wanted to go home. Thankfully, that meant that Andrew didn’t have to focus too hard on anything, that he could remain in the calm state the morning had supplied. Today was an easier day. For the first time in a week, Andrew could breathe without feeling as though his chest might collapse.

The volume of customers dropped even more as the sun hung itself lower and lower. At one point, the cafe was empty, with no one sitting at the tables. Andrew would have been okay with just listening to his music that was coming from the speakers, but Dan took the lack of an audience as a chance to talk.

“So uh,” she started. She was wiping down the counter that ran around the coffee bar. The place where Neil had sat. “You’re the only one who didn’t react all crazy when you found out that Matt and I are dating.”

Andrew made a slight face. It made Dan laugh, something snorty and shameless that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’ve never seen you react strongly to anything. You barely even blink.”

Only half of that was true. Andrew had a lot within him, but there was equally as much holding it down. He said, “A relationship with your superior is pretty scandalous for Matt.”

Still smiling, Dan said, “Eh. We’re professional about it. I still boss him around. I just–” she seemed to cut herself off from gushing, which Andrew appreciated, not exactly excited for details. Dan pursed her lips as she found the words, coming back behind the counter and pausing by the registers. “I’ll just say that I didn’t expect it to happen. Love doesn’t care about anything.”

And that got Andrew’s attention. To be the manager of a bunch of sore thumbs, Dan had to have her own convoluted past. Maybe she wanted to talk about it. Andrew found he had the capacity to listen. He pulled up the sleeves of his sweater and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter.

“You didn’t expect it to happen? You mean you didn’t want to be with him at first.” Andrew questioned. There were two motives within him fighting for dominance, though any answer that Dan gave would be helpful. One part of him wanted to give her the chance to speak. The other wanted to know how a misfit toy worked in a relationship.

Dan snorted, and Andrew watched her lose herself in her thoughts. “No. Matt scared the fuck out of me when I met him. I mean, you know how he is, he’s love fucking personified! I’ve never met someone so compassionate and ready to dish it out, especially someone who’s been through all that he’s been through. I didn’t know what to do with it. I think I felt like I didn’t deserve it. All I kept thinking about was how temporary he was going to be. That one day, I’d lose him. That he’d quit or we’d break up or… I don’t know. I just solidified the idea in my mind so that I wouldn’t mourn it.” Dan twisted one of the rings on her finger, a habit that Andrew hadn’t had the opportunity to catch before now. “The moment I realized that I wanted him to stay? That was even harder because it meant I’d have to do something difficult. Change. I could no longer bullshit. I wanted someone, so I had to work on myself to be a good partner. Matt did, too. It was hard– it’s still hard, somedays. But Matt is patient. He’s still here.”

Andrew wrote down her words in his mind. His manager seemed to come back to herself, laughing it off and looking for something to do. She settled on straightening the cups of lid stoppers. It was slightly amusing; Andrew rarely ever looked too closely at someone in love.

Dan smacked her lips, somewhat awkward. “Anyway. If you ever find a little freak for yourself, make sure you don’t self-sabotage. You won’t even know if you’re doing it, so you’ll have to watch out.”

The front door chimed.

“Hello!” A melodic voice rang throughout the lobby. Andrew saw Allison walk in with a coat too expensive and a bag too big, briefly wondering what she had in there that required constant carrying around.

Dan’s energy seemed to be refilled. “Yo yo!”

“Hi, Andrew,” Allison said. She came up to the counter across from him and smiled. She had big, straight teeth and dark eyebrows. He’d only seen her through the windows, but up close, Andrew could tell she was used to compliments, though her heavy rings and the defensive keychain she was holding hinted that she didn’t take those unwelcome. “I’m Allison.”

Andrew was as forcibly pleasant as one could be when greeting a stranger that they were stuck working with for the next few hours. He said, “Hi.”

Allison remained unphased. She tapped her hand against the counter, “So. The only thing is that if it ends up snowing I have to leave. It’s a far drive home and I’m not spending my night at Fox Beans. Sorry, Dan, but I have better things to do.”

“Wait, what? Snow? Matt and I are supposed to get dinner!” Dan said, pulling out her phone and bringing up the weather.

Andrew needed to take his break and get away from the atmosphere that these two friends had just created. He said, “I’m not far from here. If you have to leave, I’ll close the store.”

Allison groaned and said, “Thank you!”

-

The heavy clouds stopped the view of the sunset, but the sky was quickly getting darker. 

Dan left when Andrew got back from his break. Allison talked a lot through the next hour, even when Andrew had only replied twice, and it had only been to disagree with her. They stayed at opposite ends of the floor and neither one of them took it personally; they were simply two people made of foreign objects.

They didn’t realize, at first, when it started to snow. It wasn’t until Andrew heard an alert from Allison’s phone that he looked up, and sure enough, flurries were falling in the darkness.

“Shit!” Allison said, looking at the notification. Andrew’s phone buzzed next, and he looked at his own.

Snow Squall Warning til 11:00 PM EST.

Low visibility. Icy roads. Consider avoiding or delaying travel!

“Shit shit shit…” Andrew heard Allison’s mumbles all the way back to the staff room. The woman disappeared behind the corner, untying her apron as she ran. She came back with her bag and coat, stopping to quickly clock out. The two customers who had been sitting in the lobby began to collect their things to leave.

Allison pulled on her fur-lined hood and dug in her bag. When she found her keychain, she removed two and left them on the counter. On the way to the door, she said, “Thanks, Andrew! Get home safe!”

It didn’t matter what anyone wished, so Andrew did not say, “You too.” Instead, he watched Allison jog down the street, likely towards her car. The other two customers thanked him and left. Snow was beginning to fall in fluffier chunks outside, wind brushing the bare trees slightly. Andrew’s car was parked in the small lot in the back, but there was nowhere to move it for cover. He queued himself two shots of espresso for enough energy to last until the end of his shift and checked his phone as they poured.

Dan: Looks like it’s going to be bad all night so feel free to close up now! :(

Andrew didn’t need to be told twice. Most of the closing tasks were already done while Allison and Andrew were distinctly not talking, so he turned up his music and wiped the tables, flipped the chairs on top, and mopped the floors. He counted the register, signing his name on a slip and shoving it in one of the money clips. Outside, the snow was falling, not yet sticking to the streets, but piling softly against the sidewalk.

Andrew stopped for a moment and appreciated Fox Beans, with its leafy plans and warm wood interior. Looking at the coffee art, chalkboard menus, and cushioned window seats, he tried not to think of the alone feeling that stood in every place somebody was not. Andrew turned off all the lights, including the neon fox paws, but left the hanging bulbs for last. He went behind the counter and shut off the music, grabbed the keys to the doors, and pulled out his phone to reply to Dan that he was leaving.

The front door chimed. Without looking up, Andrew said, “We’re closed.”

There was no response, so Andrew locked his phone, ready to kick whoever it was out. He looked up, a hand reaching for his armband, just in case–

Neil was standing by the door.

He was panting, and his hair was messy and damp, his jacket dusted with snow, but the most devastating part, the part that had Andrew feeling close to crushed, was the look on his face. Andrew couldn’t tear away from Neil’s gaze as it dried out his words and prevented any more from coming. Neil looked hurt, his gaze matching the sense of disbelief that Andrew was feeling.

The door slowly fell back into place with a click. Neil, who was now far less confident than the other times he’d come in, slowly wiped his sneakers on the mat and walked over.

Andrew said, “It’s snowing– ”

Neil breathed, “Shut up.”

The words were a stone dropped in Andrew’s stomach. He felt his chest physically sink, he said nothing.

Neil licked his lips and came over. His eyes were darting around, searching, but whatever for, he came up empty. He set his phone and keys on the counter.

No bag. Quick breaths. Jean jacket. Had he run here?

Neil set his jaw and met Andrew’s eyes with purpose.

“I like you,” Neil said. “And I want to keep seeing you. I want to kiss you. I want to talk to you. Fuck Kevin and whatever he said. You know we’re not supposed to do it this way. It doesn’t feel right and it doesn’t feel like the end.”

No, it felt like the beginning. It felt like two Andrews, the one before Neil and the one in the cafe now, had just fallen back into place with one another. Andrew blinked and saw clearly. He swallowed, but his voice still rounded rough anyway. “Okay,” Andrew said.

Neil’s eyebrows rose slightly. He huffed. “Andrew, I–”

“I want that too,” Andrew said, and he found it to be true. He was no longer frozen in place. He felt a pull towards something. It was terrifying, but the world had already tried to sabotage Andrew’s life, so he would not do it to himself. He’d try and try. He’d chance the chase of a feeling. He knew the fear would come, but he knew he’d choose this instead. It was ridiculous, but if the world ended outside of the cafe, much as it had in Andrew’s locked and lonely bedroom all those years ago, at least Neil was inside with him. “Stay,” Andrew said. “Let’s talk.”

Neil searched his face, and then he found what he was looking for. “Okay.”

-

It was snowing too hard for them to leave, but Andrew doesn’t think either one of them wanted to. Andrew heated Neil an apple danish and gave him a hot mug of black tea, then he sat across from him, on the lobby floor by the windows. He watched Neil eat and drink, hoping the hot water helped warm his pink fingers and sniffing nose.

When Neil was done, he crumpled the paper and set it aside before leaning back against the window. The snowflakes falling behind him were fluffy and gold from the street lamp, and Neil’s hair was a red halo, the low lights casting warm shadows across his face. He was intriguing at first sight and celestial at that moment. Andrew wanted to sit and stare all night.

Neil tilted his head back and looked up. He spoke the words to the weather. “I never thought this was an option for me, so. When Kevin pushed it, I told him no. I really didn’t care to explore anything. But. Then I saw you, and I wanted to talk to you. And then I just kept wanting.”

Andrew couldn’t miss the increase in his heart rate. He said, “Sounds dangerous,” and was rewarded with the smirk he’d longed for the last few days.

Neil whispered, “Sounds exciting.”

Andrew didn’t know what to say. He wanted to forget the ending of Saturday night but didn’t. It was a part of this. So he said, “I should have asked you, first.”

Neil looked at him for a while before accepting his words. Then he said, “You know, I don’t mind being here with you. It feels like time is at a standstill. Like my feet are planted. For the last ten minutes, I’ve just been Neil Josten, snowed in with Andrew Minyard.”

“Yes. But you’re Abram, too.” Andrew said.

Neil’s eyes were too much of a treasure to look as sad as they did. Andrew felt an urge to protect, and said, “Do you want to come over?”

It worked. A small laugh left Neil. “Yes,” he said. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Andrew confirmed, standing. “I don’t mind being here either, but it’s almost thirty degrees and you’re covered in melted snow.” He held out a hand to Neil, who looked up at him and took it.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Neil said.

-

Andrew: are you home?

Aaron: …no

Nicky: no!! :)

-

Andrew finished closing and locked the doors to Fox Beans with Neil next to him. The snow still fell, white against the black sky, and they walked to Andrew’s car quickly against the wind. Inside, Andrew warmed his car before turning up the heat. The snow melted off of the heating windshield, not yet icy, and Andrew’s wiper blades pushed the rest away. Neil held cold hands to the vents and exhaled shakily, and Andrew suddenly wanted him against his chest, wishing he could push warmth into him. A sense of self-blame poked at his back, but he ignored it in favor of rubbing his palms together until they were hot with friction.

Then he held out his hand. “Here,” Andrew said.

Neil searched his face for a moment before placing his hands in Andrew’s. Andrew cupped his other palm around Neil’s fingers which were, in fact, still cold, and began to rub them. They said nothing as they warmed up, and when Neil’s hands were no longer red, Andrew placed them back on Neil’s lap and put his car in drive.

At his apartment, Andrew still felt like he should be quiet, even though they were alone. Inviting someone over was a step never taken before, and he thought tiptoeing around it wouldn’t wake the beast of nerves that threatened to wake. They toed off their shoes in silence and hung up their coats. Andrew led Neil to his room, their socked feet padding on the hardwood.

“Oh,” Neil said, once Andrew’s bedroom door was shut. He looked around, his half-smile lifting. “Seems about right.”

Andrew’s room wasn’t anything special. There was a small bookcase, his desk, his bed and bedside table, and his closet. He had small, softer lights around that he was currently turning on, and the window to the fire escape. His walls were mostly empty, but smaller posters hung around his desk. Neil crouched to look at a picture of Nicky, Aaron, and Andrew, that leaned against his desk lamp.

The nerves hit, and Andrew was suddenly filled with a feeling of lightness. For the sake of something to do, he went to his closet and looked for something for Neil to wear. Neil’s sweatshirt still hung in there, untouched for the last week but quite wearable tonight. Andrew grabbed it for himself and a dark blue hoodie of his own for Neil.

Neil huffed when he saw it. “So you do own colored clothes.”

“Shut up. Here,” Andrew said. He gave Neil a pair of sweatpants that should fit and warm socks. “The bathroom is down the hall.”

Neil took the clothes. “Thank you.”

Andrew changed when Neil left and got them each a glass of water. Back in his room, he turned on his laptop, turned on a quiet song, and opened his window.

When Neil got back, his eyes went to the sweatshirt Andrew was wearing. Andrew took in his messed hair, flipping wildly from the pullover, and how he looked in his clothes. Neil worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Andrew inhaled deeply. The bed was really close. He gulped and nodded his head towards his window. “Want a smoke?”

Neil sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Sure. Yeah.”

Andrew grabbed a small blanket and his pack from his desk and climbed out, heading to the left of his window, leaving space for Neil. The metal was cold beneath his hands, and though the snow had stopped for the moment, stray flakes fell between the iron bars above them.  Andrew laid the blanket across the fire escape and sat in his usual spot, his back to the building. Neil peeked his head out before following suit, sitting across from Andrew, his back to the rail.

Neil had a look of disbelief on his face as he looked down. “I can’t believe you, of all people, do this.”

Andrew let loose a breath. “I can’t either.” He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, handing the pack over to Neil. Neil’s breaths were clouds in the air in front of him as he dropped one into his hand, cupping it over his mouth as he lit his own. Andrew had brought someone into his hideout, just as Neil had taken Andrew to his.

“So? Is it everything you imagined it to be?” Andrew asked, gesturing to his fire escape.

Neil smiled. His face was illuminated by the glow of the cherry as he nodded. 

Andrew knew that if he was going to kiss those lips tonight, he’d had to make his boundaries clear.

“Neil,” Andrew started. He had set rules with people before, but Neil deserved more. Andrew had established, years ago, that if we were to tell anybody about what happened, he wouldn’t go into detail. Not at first, and maybe not ever. He wouldn’t know what words to use, but he’d need to use the right ones, so they at least understood. Maybe he could say how old he was. Maybe how long it lasted. Whatever it was— Neil would have to get it so that Andrew didn’t have to say anything else. He thinks he would be able to connect the dots. He thought of Neil hovering his hand over Andrew’s in the pool, instead of grabbing it. He was one familiar with boundaries. Andrew hates that he has to do this. He hates that most children have a foundation beneath their feet, but he’s here, laying his bricks at twenty-two. He thinks of Dan and thinks of trying and thinks of the fight against change. He finds the words when Neil says, “Yeah?”

“I don’t like being touched.” Andrew clenched his teeth. “In the past, some didn’t take no for an answer. Others preferred it. It’s not going to be–” Andrew tried again, “I can’t–”

As Neil processed his words, he looked like he was biting something back. He looked different, cold, a wrong set to his jaw, but warmth in his drawn eyebrows, for Andrew. “Okay. I’m in no rush, I’m… still figuring it out. But, when the time comes, I’ll get a yes from you, first.”

Andrew was overcome with feelings— they fought to make him irritable, make him hide away in his room and succumb to panic. He took a breath and smoked, listening to Neil tell him about his apartment with Kevin and Matt, the chores they each do, and the food they order for dinner. He kept asking Neil questions that couldn’t be answered with a yes or no– another tip from Betsy– and let Neil’s voice ground him. At one point, Andrew leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Neil sounded had he had on the voicemail, only better, and with his usual fire back in his tone. Andrew shared his opinions on Neil’s classes and teammates and found it easy. Found that he’d stopped overthinking. That amusement had replaced the negativity. That he was enjoying himself, besides the cold, besides the height.

Neil was silent for a while. He looked out and up, past the buildings and towards the sky.

The corner of Andrew’s mouth lifted. “Watch out. There’s nothing between us and the void.”

Neil laughed. “There are clouds.” He was silent for a moment, then, “The snow makes me think of her.” Neil’s mother, the question mark woman.

Andrew tapped ash from his cigarette. He didn't know why, he asked, “Did you love her?”

Neil looked back out. “I don’t know. In a way. How would you describe love?”

When Andrew was young, he used to think he’d never be capable of such a thing. That he wouldn’t wish what he would call love on anybody worth loving. He thinks of his new life and the people in it. He doesn’t feel that way so strongly anymore. Andrew says, “The unshakable bottom line.”

Neil turned to look at him. Andrew asked, “And you? How would you describe love?”

Neil took a deep breath, a small laugh escaping with it. He thought about it for a moment, tucking his hands into the hoodie’s pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe the word, ‘despite’.”

Andrew let that fact settle within him. Despite. Knowing the worst, and then continuing on. The anticipated “But…” that came after someone’s lowest point. Life was not easy enough to be a single moment. But if it was, Andrew would currently say he was living a good one.

Neil was consistent, at least. Andrew said, “You’re quite deep, aren’t you?”

Neil snorted. “Are you making fun of my answer?”

“Maybe,” Andrew said. He took a drag of the cigarette he was speaking around as something playful sparked between them. Neil held his gaze as he sat up and crawled closer, and suddenly he was there, on his hands and knees between Andrew’s legs. Neil blinked at him as he slowly lifted his hand to pluck the cigarette from between Andrew’s lips, already so careful to telegraph his movements. Their mouths were millimeters apart. Andrew exhaled, smoke slowly flowing with his breath, and Neil’s parted lips sucked it in.

“Andrew?” Neil asked, breathing out Andrew’s air.

“Yes,” Andrew said, barely holding on.

And that was it. Andrew had to kiss him, so he did. He pressed his lips to Neil’s and the jolt throughout his body was so strong that it knocked the darkness from him. His fingers came to tangle in a daydream’s hair, and Neil’s returning presses were lightning. I’m here.

Neil pulled back slightly, “Maybe this time, we can be warm?”

He had a point. Andrew kissed his smile. Again, again. A minute later, between soft presses, “Do you want to go inside?”

A nod against his mouth. An intake of breath. Another kiss. It seemed Neil fell as deep as Andrew did when they were entwined together. His hands were still on either side of Andrew’s hips, but Andrew had brought his hands to cup Neil’s face.

“Neil,” Andrew pulled back, “Inside. You’re freezing.”

Neil sighed and sat back on his knees. He flicked the cigarette off the fire escape and got up, kneeling back inside Andrew’s bedroom. Andrew followed, tossing the blanket in the hamper and shutting the window. Quietly, the music still played. Andrew counted the beats, they matched the pulse of his blood.

He stepped to where Neil stood by his bed and kissed him again. Andrew was blooming with something— flowers suffocating his lungs, his stomach warm, his mind foggy apart from Neil’s lips, his small sounds, the smell of his skin. Andrew’s fingers trailed softly over the back of Neil’s hands before he laced through them, lifting Neil’s hands to his hair. Neil crumbled against him, tangling his fingers in the short strands and pulling slightly. They moved towards the bed, Andrew’s knees hitting his mattress, the plush bedding landing beneath him as he fell back.

Their mouths broke apart, and Neil looked hesitant to follow Andrew down. His fingers were still carding through Andrew’s hair at his nape, and a chill-like haze erupted through him as he looked up at Neil. The gentle lights of his room lit him up perfectly, including the nervous lick of his lips.

“Neil. It’s still a yes. Let me know how you’re feeling.” Andrew said, trying to regain some control of his mind, which was barreling towards a heady need.

Neil smirked. Apparently, how he was feeling was to be kept to himself. Cold, red, blushing ears solidified that. “It’s a yes for me, too.”

Neil let Andrew pull him onto the mattress next to him. Cobwebs. Desk lamps. Fire escapes. Neil fit in, right alongside the pillows. Andrew leaned over him and their lips did not come apart, they shared breaths and sighs and quiet moans that were only meant for one another. Andrew felt all he could, his heart a sun catcher of all of Neil’s light. His hands tracked under Neil’s shirt, searching for warmth. He spread his fingers wide, to wrap around Neil’s hip, to feel the flexing muscles across his abdomen, his lower stomach, the scars a reassurance of who he was sharing this moment with. Andrew didn’t want to stop. Not until this moment and its senses were so far into his mind that his soul would remember after his body forgot. Their open-mouthed kisses were wet, way too passionate, way too intimate. You kissed a lover like this. As Neil’s hands tracked across Andrew’s shoulders, Andrew shifted his leg between Neil’s. Their desire couldn’t be missed– a shift of hips against one another, a shaky inhale, a harder press of a nose into a cheek as they moved. Andrew felt a pleasure that reached all corners of himself. Neil’s eyes– his brows drawn, his lids heavy– were locked on his. Andrew ducked his head to rest their foreheads together, and Neil met his movements, leaving supple kisses against Andrew’s cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, his lips. Andrew couldn’t kiss back, teetering on the edge, basking in the feeling. Neil let out a gentle moan, his hips beginning to stutter, and Andrew’s name on his tongue was all that was left.

“Andrew…”

“Neil–”

He couldn’t take it anymore. They kissed, stars behind each of their eyes, noises in the back of their throats, tight grips on each other's skin. It was enough.

-

A light trace of fingers across a hand, a wrist. A head resting on a shoulder. Way past midnight. Too late to drive home. Laughter, something lazy and sated, prompted by a sly hint at affection. “You can just say you like having me around.” A squeeze to the hand. A huff of breath. “That would be too boring for me and too easy for you.” Music, still looping. A passing car, barely audible. Hesitance. “...I like having you around.” Heartbeats. Not an answer. Depends on the math. Another truth is given, a small touch beneath an armband. Scars for another time. One another, for now.