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“I thought telling the truth was like, your whole thing.”
Andrew froze, spoon of ice cream halfway to his mouth, threatening to drip onto his chest. He looked up from where he lay coccooned in the beanbag chair, to find his twin staring at him from across the room, leaning on the kitchenette counter. He held a mug of black coffee steaming against his chest, both hands wrapped around it. Andrew just raised an eyebrow at him, making it a point to shove the spoon in his mouth instead of entertaining an answer.
He knew exactly what Aaron was talking about, but wasn’t going to give an inch.
Besides, the truth game was about not lying, not just saying true things. But he hardly expected Aaron to understand the difference.
After a long moment of Andrew chewing the chocolate chunks without a word, Aaron somehow managed to cross his arms without spilling his coffee. He flicked his gaze purposefully to Andrew’s arm bands. Andrew swallowed, trying to keep down the nausea which accompanied the wave of sudden rage. What the hell did Aaron think he knew? And how the fuck did he know about their game anyway?
He briefly wondered at the possibility of twin telepathy for the millionth time before shoving it away.
“He never asked.” Andrew finally snapped, if only to end the conversation.
Really, he was fucking exhausted lately and even thinking of pushing up from the beanbag to stomp away seemed herculenian at the moment. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to resort to violence to get Aaron to leave him alone. He didn’t think he had the energy today.
Aaron stared another moment. Andrew tensed, sensing his brother’s urge to lash out in irritation. He couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same.
“Is it from respect for your boundaries, or because he doesn’t know to ask?”
Andrew glared, nearly crushing the carton in his fist. Aaron blinked slowly, a farce of an attempt at looking as unbothered as Andrew could.
But still, it needled him.
Aaron waited for the answer that would never come, until he finally gave up. With a sigh, he shook his head lightly. He crossed the room, taking his coffee with him. His hand lingered on the doorknob before he left, probably off to bother Matt or Katelyn.
Without looking back, he spoke carefully.
“Tell him or I’m telling Renee.”
Aaron could have threatened with any one of them, Wymack, Abby, Nicky, Neil himself… But in the end, they were twins and they knew each other’s exact weak points when it mattered. Out of all the possible backlash and consequence, Renee’s disappointment would be the worst.
And honestly, fuck Aaron for caring about things that were none of his damn business.
Before his brother could leave, Andrew expended the last of his reserves to shove up and storm to his room, tossing the nearly empty carton near his head, spoon and all. With a muttered fuck you, he slammed the door and collapsed face-first into his bed. He shouted his rage into his pillow until it felt suffocating.
--
Andrew woke to three light knocks on his bedroom door. He hadn’t even known he’d fallen asleep. Blinking awake slower than he’d like, he found himself in much the same position he’d crashed in, face buried in the pillow and arms locked tight around it. Turning his head toward the door, he noted the bedroom had gone dark. He’d missed dinner and the sunset. Jesus, how long had he been asleep?
He knew by the lack of a follow-up knock that Neil stood opposite the door, awaiting his response.
He could only grunt an answer, but it was permission. The door to crack enough for the redhead to slip in before closing it behind him.
Neil stood in silence until it irritated Andrew enough to flop over and glare in his direction.
“Hungry?” Neil held a Snickers up and waved it like a peace offering. Andrew wasn’t sure what brought on the need for one, which only served to frustrate him more. He pulled himself into sitting, leaning back against the wall. His arms folded automatically over his chest.
His stomach betrayed him easily enough with a growl and damnit he loved Snickers.
Andrew huffed a sigh and held out a hand. Neil’s face lit up in his stupid joy at doing something that made Andrew happy. He practically bounced over and placed it in Andrew’s hand, letting his fingertips brush Andrew’s palm in a way they both knew was intentional.
When Neil made no other move, Andrew rolled his eyes. He nodded to the space beside him and scooted to make room.
“Come’re, Junkie.”
Neil tried and failed to hide the way his lips twitched up.
They sat in silence a few minutes, shoulders touching, just staring at the far wall while Andrew demolished the candy bar. He wouldn’t admit he was actually quite hungry and the chocolate had been the perfect holdover until he could find something starchy.
He was sure Neil knew it anyway.
When he had finished, it pained him to accept his irritation had minimally subsided. He balled up the wrapper and flicked it at Neil’s face. Neil let it bounce off his cheek, before side eyeing him.
“So,” Neil began, and Andrew knew the calm was too good to last. He turned away from Neil and laid his head back against the wall again, burying his socked toes under the haphazard blankets. He was acutely aware of those bright eyes picking him apart.
“Going to tell me what’s going on?”
Tactful as always.
Andrew said nothing. As usual, it did not deter Neil.
“Aaron said-”
His head spun so fast that Neil snapped his mouth shut, eyebrows shooting upward.
“What did he say.”
Neil scowled, turning his body to face Andrew.
“… Just that he hadn’t seen you since you closed yourself in here.”
Of couse he’d just outed himself.
When Andrew continued to say nothing, Neil worried his lip.
“What is it?”
Andrew resisted the urge to smash his head back into the wall. Damn that gentle tone. He hadn’t said anything for the very reason of keeping this pinched look from Neil’s face. The man had more than enough to worry about without Andrew’s bullshit.
With the least amount of thought he could manage (to avoid painstakingly calculating every possible reaction), Andrew thunked his head back just once and spoke to the ceiling.
“Ask me what’s under them.”
Neil was quiet, and Andrew could picture the confusion on his face without looking. He closed his eyes and elaborated.
“The bands. Ask me what’s under them.”
Neil said nothing for long enough that Andrew chanced a glance. Neil was very carefully neutral.
“It’s not my turn to ask.”
Andrew practically growled in irritation. Neil was really gonna make him use a truth on this.
He pointedly ignored the little voice in his head reminding him that if he were a normal, well-adjusted person he could just tell him or ask for help.
Andrew never claimed to be either of those things.
“Why haven’t you asked?”
Neil didn’t even glance at his arms, just held his gaze with those annoyingly devastating eyes.
“You said you were in control.”
And fuck that trust hurt more than he’d thought it would. Andrew absolutely did not swallow around a lump in his throat.
“Your turn. Ask me what’s under them.”
Neil tilted his head like a fucking puppy. It twisted Andrews guts a little with the motion.
“Do you want me to ask?”
“Ask me.” he demanded, a desperation flooding through him.
“Yes or no, Drew?” came the reply, without missing a beat.
His teeth might turn to dust if he kept grinding them like this. Did he want anyone to know? Of course not, they’d send him right back to Abby and he was not about to go down that path again.
But Neil. Did he really think Neil would rat on him? No.
Did he trust Neil? (Not that he’d say it out loud,) Obviously.
Did that mean he wanted him to know?
“…No.”
Knowing that Neil would plaster on the actor mask and stare until Andrew let him touch was painful. More than that, the touch would probably light the addictive fire of his blades. His scars itched beneath the raw lines rubbing against the fabric. It had been years, but he’d been here before. If he did it one more time, he knew he would fall and there would be no stopping it.
A careful, “Drew,” forced him to blink away the memories clouding his vision. He saw the worry in the blue. No matter how good an actor Neil was to the world, Andrew knew he was the one who got to see the unfiltered Abram when it mattered most.
And shit, that meant he was pretty fucked up right now, huh?
“My turn.” Neil’s voice was careful, in the way which said he was afraid.
Andrew hated that it was his fault Neil’s mind went to fear.
He nodded. It was all he could do to make amends.
“Are you still in control?”
He slammed his eyes shut, feeling the question like a physical blow to the chest.
After everything, they made it. They were alive. They survived.
So why was it now, that the dust was tentatively settling, did the pain and terror and ice eat away at him? Why now, only when he was as close to safe as the world would ever allow? When Neil was here and real and with him and Andrew was never fucking again letting him go? When he knew all it would take was a flick of his fingers and that scarred touch would ground him without question?
Why now did the knives burn through their sheaths, promising the lulling heat he knew they could bring?
He remembered the time he handed them off to Neil, which felt ages ago, at the library. The only time he hadn’t trusted himself to feel their weight so close to his fingertips.
When he’d trusted Neil to take the control for him.
Without a word, he opened his eyes and stared down at his arms. He could feel Neil’s heavy gaze beside him. He took his time, each fraction of a movemenent a battle against the lock around his heart, his need to protect-everything he cared about, everything he had, everything he was.
In the end, it was much less a feat than his mind tried to poison him into thinking. It was no different than unsheathing in the dark of night to close his eyes beside Neil, beside his boyfriend, who he probably loved.
(If he believed in that sort of thing.)
He didn’t look up as he passed them over. Neil’s fingers lingered at his just long enough to say, I’m here, and he finally let himself answer.
“…No.”