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Outside the university window, the weather was beautiful. The sun was at its zenith, illuminating everything within reach of its rays, giving off the last of its warmth. Nature was coming back to life after winter, birds were singing their symphonies, and the sky was crystal clear. It would seem that there was nothing not to be happy about.
"...crystal clear."
As blue as Neil's cold eyes. Cold, but terrifyingly attractive.
"Neil..."
Andrew lost track of time after Josten left. It tormented him in nightmares. Feelings that emerged after years of foggy indifference, unrestrained promises, loss of control. For the first time, the loss of someone hit him so hard. His heart would pound wildly in his chest, then skip enough beats to make Minyard feel like a walking corpse.
"Corpse."
However, not a single emotion could be read on his face, nothing but frightening calmness.
He wasn't waiting for him. No. Not at all.
He clung with all his might to this control, which he had sought almost his entire life. He tried to manage the situation and be independent of anything. Andrew wanted to intervene, to solve Neil's problems, to save him. He had to. But he was powerless, and that was making him angry. At Neil, for being such an idiot. At himself, for once again being unable to do anything.
“Unable."
It was time to pull himself together and move on. But he couldn't. Or did he just not want to accept that Josten wasn't coming back? He wasn't sure himself.
Andrew ignored everything that was said during class. He was not there. He returned to the dormitory just as absorbed in his own thoughts as before. The foxes were on edge, but this did not evoke any emotion in him. None of it mattered.
The room was too cramped, the air too thick. Every sound grated on the nerves, every action seemed unnecessary. Kevin, as always, opened his mouth at the wrong moment — just a couple of words, too light, too careless, as if Neil were just a player and not a person who had been dragged into the darkness.
Andrew didn't think twice.
His hand shot forward faster than he could exhale. His fist met the jaw, and the silence shattered like glass. It was a single sharp blow, but he seemed to put much more force into it than he had planned.
No big deal. It would be a lesson. Maybe he would finally understand that problems should be discussed before the consequences become irreversible.
Kevin staggered in shock, and Andrew was already standing over him, breathing evenly and quietly, staring with an inscrutable gaze.
"Shut it," he said hoarsely.
Not a shout, not a rage. It was a verdict.
No one intervened, no one said a word. Perhaps they didn't have time to understand what had happened, and Minyard left without waiting for their reactions.
The taste of blood in his mouth was hot and sticky. The taste of hate. Apparently, he had bitten his cheek too hard from the inside.
The hallway. The landing. The stairs to the top. The roof.
He had to get to the roof. To drown out his anger with fear.
And his disgusting feeling of loss. It was all pointless.
Sitting down on the cold parapet, he gazed up at the night sky. The wind blew across his face, sending shivers down his spine. With shaking hands, he took out a cigarette and lit it. Andrew reproached himself for the crack in his mask of self-control.
But could he have prevented it? After all, he was human, and emotions were a part of his life, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of them.
The night was thick, and he heard a rhythm that he instantly associated with something alien and familiar at the same time — low, pulsing, like the beat of a whale in the depths.
The image of him popped into Andrew's head. And he couldn't help but respond to it.
Music — not real, just a feeling: a wave coming and going.
He smoked one cigarette after another until the pack was thin, until a metallic aftertaste of blood appeared on his lips. Clouds of acrid smoke rushed into the sky. His thoughts drifted to a place where nothing remained, where Neil had been, where there had been promises. Hopes.
His eyes burned from unshed tears he couldn't allow himself to cry. He felt disgusted with himself. He looked at the stars, but he didn't care about them. He didn't care about anything. He took another drag. He didn't care about himself.
Emptiness was his home, and voices were uninvited guests.
"Andrew..."
He heard a familiar voice somewhere behind him, but didn't turn around. That voice could belong to no one else but Neil.
“I can hear your voice in my emptiness.”
Clamping his jaws together so hard it hurt, he felt a hot tear roll down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away with the sleeve of his hoodie. That tear was a sobering slap in the face.
It was pointless.
The wind and the rumbling below sounded loud enough, and he tried to think about what he thought he heard. But the voice sounded again, closer, with the same tone.
"Andrew."
Andrew snapped out of his stupor. He turned so sharply that he almost slipped off the edge. The next moment, he lost his balance. Just then, someone's hand, strong and confident but very careful, grabbed the fabric of his sweatshirt between his shoulder blades and stopped him.
Without hesitation, Andrew struck the stranger's hand, as if it weren't Neil standing in front of him, returning his face to its previous mask of calm. He quickly stood up, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, his nails digging into his palms.
“Don't come any closer,” the blond guy hissed. As if checking whether it was really him standing in front of him. As if he couldn't believe he was alive.
Neil took a step back, not objecting to this reaction at all.
Exactly two seconds passed, and Minyard closed the distance between them.
He hooked two fingers under Neil's lower jaw, forcing him to turn his head. Neil obediently turned, silently allowing him to examine the damage.
Andrew's eyes were burning with cold hatred now, but at least he hadn't pushed him away yet. That meant something.
"I'm sorry," Neil said quietly.
Clenching the fingers of his free hand into a fist, Andrew pulled his arm back, but did not swing. Neil knew that the blow would not come; Andrew's pale fingers trembled with the effort he was making to restrain himself from knocking Josten's head off. Josten remained silent, not wanting his words to influence the decision one way or the other. Finally, Andrew unclenched his fist.
"Say that again, and I'll kill you," Andrew promised quietly.
Neil understood that it wasn't exactly the right time for intimacy, but he leaned forward anyway to gently cup the face opposite him in his wounded, bandaged hands. Slowly, giving time and space to pull away or refuse. But Minyard remained motionless.
"I was going to tell you."
"Stop lying to me."
"I'm not lying. I would have told you yesterday, but they came to our locker room. Yesterday, it wasn't security guards who came for us. And they didn't come for us, they came specifically for me. They wouldn't have spared any of you to get me out of there. I thought my silence would protect you," Neil still held his hands to Andrew's face, lightly touching the bruise under his eye, "I didn't know they would cause this carnage."
"What did I tell you about playing the martyr?"
"You said that no one asked me to do it. But you didn't tell me not to do it."
"It was implied."
"I'm stupid, remember? I need everything explained to me."
"Shut up."
"Ninety-four percent already?"
"One hundred," the guy replied irritably.
They stood in silence for several long seconds, watching each other.
"Yes or no?"
"... Yes."
After receiving Andrew's consent, Neil lowered his hands from his face and embraced him in a fragile hug. Almost weightless, it was more symbolic than anything else. He was hardly capable of more, as a significant portion of his skin remained bound in bandages, and beneath them were bloody wounds. This left Minyard stunned. He didn't know how to react, but he raised his trembling hands and hugged him back as tightly as he dared. Afraid to let go, afraid that he would disappear again.
"They want to take me away. I'll leave, if you tell me to," Neil said quietly, without specifying who he was talking about.
"You don't have to leave."
The same words, the same promise he had already given him several months ago.
This time, everything would be right. He wouldn't let this disappear.