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Andrew knows that Nicky is in the dorm before he even gets the door open, his voice ringing bright in a way that only Neil ever tolerates out of some sense of familial... affection? Obligation? Andrew isn't sure. All he knows is that it makes Nicky happy, and that in turn makes Neil pleased with his own ability to maintain human connection, so Andrew hasn't asked.
Andrew isn't annoyed, exactly, that Nicky is here, but Wednesday afternoons before practice are the only time a week that Kevin has class at a time that Andrew and Neil do not for any significant stretch of time, and they usually try to make the most of it.
Andrew closes the door behind him quietly enough to be unheard under the soft rumble of Neil's voice, and when he stoops down to line his shoes up against the wall, he almost jumps at Nicky's voice coming from the kitchen.
"But he has to love you, I know he does! He wouldn't act the way he does around you if he didn't."
The words send ice skittering up Andrew's spine and wrapping around his neck. He can't hear Neil's low response over the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding echoing in his skull. He slides his shoes back on and exits just as silently as he entered and makes his way to the roof of the tower. He sits as far from the edge as he can get, because there's no sense in falling twice today, because that's what he thinks he's doing already. He's spent the last two years floating in a haze, believing for once in his life that he finally found something he would get to keep that wouldn't slice his insides open for as long as he had it.
This is what crash landing feels like. Andrew doesn't know why he wasn't expecting it after all this time.
When his hands have mostly stopped shaking, he pulls out his cigarettes. In his pocket, his phone buzzes. Neil, a single ? indicating Andrew has run out of time. He considers ignoring it, a response Neil would take without any kind of complaint or demand of explanation, and it's that knowledge that leads to Andrew gritting his teeth and typing out, roof. Neil deserves actually being told that Nicky is wrong instead of letting him figure it out farther down the line.
It didn't occur to Andrew that it would matter that he doesn't love Neil, not the way Nicky thinks. (Andrew resolutely does not consider what Neil might think about Andrew in relation to the concept of love. that way brings madness, and if Neil had any unexpressed expectations, that's not on Andrew to fulfill.)
But Nicky's words were a response to something Neil said. Andrew had assumed that he and Neil were on the same page, and therein lies his mistake.
Because love is not a thing Andrew has believed in in a long, long time. And he had assumed Neil was much the same, because he has never been given a reason to believe in it either. But Neil is far softer than anyone gives him credit for, and Andrew really should have anticipated this particular difference between the two of them. Andrew can trust him and want to protect him till the end of time, but those proverbial butterflies are never going to happen, and Neil deserves to know that this particular type of care was never going to be reciprocated.
When the door to the roof scrapes open, Andrew can hear Neil pause at how far Andrew is sitting from the edge. Neil powers on nonetheless, and sits down cross-legged next to Andrew, swiping the cigarette he forgot to light from his fingers and pulling his own lighter from his pocket.
"Rough class?" he asks, and Andrew shakes his head. "You never came back to the dorm," Neil says, not quite a question, but in the same neighborhood as one.
"I did," Andrew says in response, and he knows without looking that Neil has gone still. Andrew swipes his cigarette back.
"Nicky?" Neil asks, and at Andrew's silence, continues, "What did you overhear?"
"Do you love me?" Andrew intends for it to be sneering, but it comes out bleeding and squishy. (Andrew is also far softer than anyone would ever assume, but with Neil it’s just an exchange rather than an exposure.)
Neil shrugs. "Probably." Andrew's diaphragm spasms like it did when he was six and got shoved off of a top bunk. "Does it matter?"
"Does it?" Andrew asks, sort of a question, sort of to be an asshole. When Neil shakes his head, Andrew says, "I don't."
Neil is looking at him, Andrew knows, trying to read his mind through his side profile alone, and Andrew finally gives in and meets his eyes. Neil studies him for a moment, blue eyes narrowed ice, and then shrugs. “Okay,” Neil says, casually, no hurt, no new tension, no nothing, and hands over the cigarette.
Andrew takes it out of habit, and also maybe out of relief that he’ll ruthlessly deny until his grave. But he still feels like his skin has been doused with maple syrup, so he asks flatly, “Why?”
“Why do I love you?”
Andrew doesn’t quite flinch, but he shakes his head to cover it anyway. “Why is it okay?”
Neil takes in a breath to speak, but lets it out unused. Andrew can see the gears turning, trying to figure out how to say whatever it is he’ll come up with as an explanation, and he’s about to tell him to just spit it out when Neil asks, “Are you attracted to me?”
Andrew blinks at the non-sequitur, but recovers quickly. “Yes,” He says in response, then raises an eyebrow, signaling Neil to explain, and he does.
“Nicky’s been trying to get me to help him figure out who he’s going to ask to the banquet this year. He decided that I’m gay, I guess, and that I get what he’s trying to do.” He picks his hands, at the scar on his left knuckle that still twinges, and Andrew grabs his hand to stop him from making it worse. Neil looks up to shoot him a small smile before continuing. “I tried to explain that I don’t really work like that. And then he said I must be attracted to you, since we’re…” He trails off and looks down at their hands before meeting Andrew’s eyes again. “But there’s no– pull. I like everything we do, but it’s not really an urge. And I like looking at you, but that would be true no matter what you looked like.”
Andrew had spent the last two years sorting out Neil’s sexuality or lack thereof right there with him, but it was still odd to hear it laid out like that. It took him some time to be okay with both it and himself, but he trusts Neil’s yes, even when he doesn’t understand it. He trusts Neil , and that was a harder pill to swallow, but it goes down almost easy these days.
“Does it bother you that I’m not attracted to you?” Neil asks, and Andrew is reminded of how they got here.
“That’s different,” Andrew says, looking away, and he can feel Neil shrug.
“Not by much.”
“It’s not fair to make you stay when I can’t love you back,” Andrew says, the syrupy-sticky feeling back, and Neil takes his burnt out cigarette and flicks it away.
“Good thing you’re not making me, then.”
“You could find someone who does,” Andrew says, ignoring him.
“And you could find someone who’s attracted to you,” Neil says right back.
“It’s not the same.” It isn’t. Neil isn’t getting it. Andrew wouldn’t mind if they never had sex again, but if Neil believes in love, he deserves someone that does, too.
“Why not?”
“Because–” Because I don’t care , Andrew wants to say, but, well. He knows what Neil’s response to that would be now, even though eventually that might change. “Why?” Andrew asks again instead, and he knows he’s being tedious but Neil doesn’t comment on it.
“You let me love you. It doesn’t matter that you don’t feel about me any differently than you do Kevin, because you let me anyway.”
Andrew looks out over the horizon. “You are different from Kevin.”
Neil waves a hand in front of Andrew’s face, and Andrew turns to look at him. “Exactly,” Neil says, and Andrew thinks he might at least understand, even though he doesn’t get it. “Exactly.”
Andrew may not be in love with Neil, but he does trust him, and maybe that is close enough, because he finds himself nodding when Neil leans in.
When they break, Neil smiles, and Andrew thinks he might get to keep this after all.