Work Text:
His phone vibrated once. Short, like he had just gotten a message.
It vibrated a second time. Short again.
Neil didn't need to check it to know who and what his phone would say.
Neil had told Andrew that he was planning a trip, to inform him, to leave him alone, to not track him, to not appear, to not blow his phone up, to not worry about him.
Neil knew that his messages would say.
Neil's breath slowly evened out, he had run to this place, for the sakes of the old times.
He walked across, walking up and down, looking for something he knew existed but not where.
Peeking out next to a stone Neil looked at a big yellow dandelion and thought about the time he had learned that yellow dandelion turn into a fuzzy, white version.
It had been a spring day and the Wesninski-Headford familiy had gone on a family-walk, like they had on a regular basis. Or at least in the early stages of Neil's childhood.
They had crossed a field of dandelions.
Neil's mother hated the plants, talked about how they ruined their garden and little Neil hadn't be able to understand how such a beautiful flower could ruin something.
But he didn't ask, just let go of his parent's hands and ran through the field, like he always did. Picked and plugged some flowers and came back with a big, beautiful bouquet of dandelions, gifted them to his mother.
He had thought, that maybe, when he was able to shower his mother the beauty of the flowers, they wouldn't ruin her garden anymore, maybe the flowers and his mother made up and forgot the fight they apparently had.
Adult Neil smiled when thinking of this innocent, childish thought. Oh, to see the world with kid's eyes again, to see the beauty and the small and everyday things again, to be able to shiled oneself from the horrors of the reality..
In his memory his mother had leaned down to her son, presenting her the small, feeble collection of 4 flowers, 2 stems with roots and the milky flower juice leaking all over. She smiled as if was the most beautiful and thoughtful gift she had ever received, tousled his auburn hair and thanked him. Then the family had continued with their little walk.
Some days later, they again walked besides the field and small Neil begsn to cry. His favourite flowers had moved and instead some weird, fuzzy ones had moved in.
Adult Neil knew that 'moving in' or 'moving out' had been the embellishment for death his parents had taught him. People moving was more plausible then sleeping and had a less higher risk to alarm any kindergardeners when small Neil had talked against all odds or strict upbringing.
Small Neil had gotten sad, tears had pooled in his blue eyes, until his father had leaned down to him and asked him to go closer to the field with him.
And like this the father and the simon walked closer to the field, Mary watched them having a father-son-moment.
The two persons with the same exact physical traits, obviously related took several long and detailed looks at the flowers, they displayed several different stages of the evolution and small Neil learned that day the dandelions had two different sets of clothings one for others to see and one for grown up and see the world.
Small Neil learned that the seeds were very capable of flying.
At first with a puff he sent the seeds of one flower to fly. Then a strike with his hand sent the seeds of a bunch of flowers to fly. And then he ran.
Streached out his arms and ran through the field up and down and down and up, giggling at the spectacle he caused.
After running so long he got exhausted, he returned to his parents.
A Neil-sized trail showed Nathan and Mary exactly where their son had run through. The seeds everywhere in his hair, clothes and mouth told them the kind of flower, as if they hadn't watched him do it. Proudly of their son, happy of his happiness.
Adult Neil remembered how they both had laughed and laughed and laughed when small Neil had gone through various stages of emotions after running through that field. A rare moment.
At first: Gleam. Neil had been so happy, it had been so much fun to run through the field, to see the seeds fly, to outrun the seeds becaus Neil was faster than the wind.
Then: Curiosity how they had gotten stuck everywhere on him, how they looked, how they tasted, how they felt.
Then had followed: Annoyance. The seed where everywhere on him and in his eyes and they peeked and poked and Neil wanted them to be gone.
And at last: Despair. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't get rid of the seeds. They where everywhere, he couldn't see properly and it hurt and mom and dad where laughing at him instead of helping him and weren't they supposed to help him!?
Of course they helped him afterwards but already little Neil wasn't known for his patience, in fact Neil had gotten more patient the older he grew, but adult Neil didn't kid himself: He was an impatient person.
Small Neil had never learned why his mom had hated dandelions, that had been something adult Neil had to learn in his own garden in the hard way.
Soon after that the happy family-walks had stopped and became just family-walks until they didn't do family-walks anymore.
Adult Neil picked the dandelion.
After a few more minutes of looking and searching he found his destination.
Unsure what to do now, what to feel now, he placed the dandelion on the stone in front of him.
He looked around and didn't see anyone close to him or paying attention to him.
Neil fidgeted on his zipper and peed against the stone.
When he was finished he put himself away unsure what to do next.
He didn't do anything more.
Neil turned away from the grave of his father and walked away.
This was going to be his first and last visit. The grave was going to overgrow, the name was going to get overgrown with moss until it was forgotten. At least it will be forgotten in the outside world, in Neil's inside world he was never going to forget Nathan Wesninski.
Neil was never going to forget all the emotional pain Nathan Wesninski-Headford had caused him
Neil was never going to forget all the traumatic pain Nathan Wesninski had caused him.
Neil was never going to forget all the physical pain Nathan Wesninski had caused him.
Neil was also never going to forget how soft Nathan Wesninski had been on the day where he had taught him about the flying dandelions or how careful he had plugged each and every seed from his crying son.
Neil was never going to forget Nathan Wesninski but the world would. The world already had.
'The butcher of Baltimore' was now a famous chain of butchers, who sold good and honest meat, nothing more.
Neil walked across the graveyard, along all the other graves, along the other visitors, crying or tending the graves of their loved ones.
Neil checked his phone.
'have fun pissing'
'love you'
They knew each other better than themselves, Neil hadn't told Andrew about his plans, just the he was going to visit the graveyard.
When he walked through the exit, he saw a familiar frame leaning on a familiar car.
Of course Andrew didn't leave him alone.
Of course Andrew had tracked him.
Of course Andrew appeared.
Of course Andrew had messaged him.
Of course Andrew worried about him.
Neil smiled an genuine smile and walked towards his husband.
In his strong arms Neil felt the safest. Even though he didn't need any protection anymore.