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Andrew has a bad night.
He wakes up in the middle of the night, Neil calling his name in order to jolt him out of his nightmare.
He could still feel their hands on him.
Touching his body,
He was writhing under their harsh fingertips.
He was never strong enough.
It hurt.
“Andrew.”
Andrew looks into Neils eyes.
He’s so cold.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Okay.” Neil nods.
Andrew carefully dissects himself from the sheets and pads to the bathroom, starting the shower hot and steaming. The mirror is twisted and mocking, an awful reflection of a broken soul. Andrew tucks a towel over the glass. With his shirt still on, Andrew steps into the hot water and lets his shirt become heavy. When the weight becomes too much he peels it off and leaves it hanging from the shower rod. He scrubs his skin raw. Until he can’t feel the scar of their touches engraved into his skin. Until it’s a lingering weight instead of a crushing force. Until he can breathe.
He towels dry, scratching and rubbing with the old towel. Maybe scratching a little too hard- but there isn’t anyone there to tell him no.
Andrew walks into the bedroom, where Neil’s waiting for him. At his toweled figure, Neil averts his eyes, recognizing his vulnerability at that moment.
Andrew dresses in loose sweats and Neils old Fox hoodie, rummaging in the bedside table to find his phone and his armbands that he usually leaves off to sleep.
As he pulls them on, Neil whispers, “I can sleep on the couch.”
And suddenly Andrew’s heart aches.
Neil is a pipe dream, a hallucination surely made up to please his ache to be wanted. How he could ever deserve someone like Neil, he has no idea. No one had ever respected his boundaries to this extent. Neil never pried, never forced anything from him. He asked, and when he didn’t get solid answers, he was content with that. He treasured every bit of Andrew and it was absolutely disgusting. The way he could look at Andrew and know wether or not it was a good day. The way he knew to leave a few inches of space on the couch between them when it wasn’t. Neil was infuriating, with his soft gaze and the way he gave and gave and gave. He offered everything he could give to Andrew, and was happy with what he got in return. How Neil could stick by Andrew he would never know, with his unreliable days and icy silences. But his biting comebacks always elicited a smile or laugh from his pretty mouth, and he knew that he would kill every last one of his monsters to make sure Neil would keep smiling. And Andrew knew Neil would do the same for him. They weren’t able to fight their demons off all the time, but Andrew knew they could do it together.
“Go back to sleep, Junkie” Andrew responds with a scowl.
He climbs back into bed and settles down with his phone. He absently scrolls through Pinterest, tapping on cute pictures of cats to add to his ‘cats’ board. Another thing Bee had asked him to do, something about recognizing things that brought him happiness or whatever.
Andrew looks up, “staring,” he replies to Neils blue eyes.
“What’re you looking at?”
Andrew turns the phone around.
“This one is cute” Neil taps on a picture.
Andrew nods and adds the post to the board.
“You know, I’d like to get a cat.” Neil shifts to his back and stares at the ceiling in thought. “I was never allowed to have a cat, couldn’t haul one around when on the run and all. Also provided distractions. I remember feeding a starving cat somewhere in Greece, we stayed for about a week in the same city. He had brown patches and his ribs poked out. But he was friendly, let me pet him and everything. One of my fathers men caught us in the middle of the night, I reached for the cat when we went to run and he shot it. Before shooting me too.” Neil fingers a place on his right bicep. “Barely grazed me. Mom beat me black and blue after changing countries. Watched me closer, made sure I wasn’t forming any unwanted attachments. I suppose it was for the best. Kept us alive.” Neil looks back at Andrew who’s staring at him with an intense gaze. He responds to the stare with a goofy smile before commenting, “I want to name our future cat King.”
“Go to sleep, idiot.”
Neils grin widens before shifting to the wall, using Andrew as his substitute to the solid backup, trusting. Andrew turns the brightness on his phone way down and lightly rests his forehead against Neils back. Support. The scarred skin against his hair reminds him that this was Neil, not one of his abusers. The skin on skin contact makes his forearms itch, but he craves the comfort that Neils company provides. He is safe.
On his phone, he starts looking up adoption centers. Neils breath gradually slows, and Andrew's eyes grow heavier. Andrew finds a rescue not too far from their apartment after a few minutes of searching. Only about 20 miles away. He messages the center, telling them that he was interested in finding an older cat to live in a quiet apartment with two adults who would come by tomorrow. He shuts off his phone, sliding it under his pillow and allows himself to slip into sleep alongside Neil.