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"I'm not taking them, unless you actually speak to me." Neil repeats, "You can’t just feed me and medicate me like a stray you found in a dumpster, Andrew. Talk to me.”
Andrew doesn’t move. Rather his gaze only intensifies until it starts to feel like he’s looking through Neil, dissecting a difficult puzzle he is considering throwing away.
Neil feels his patience fraying, "Drew," he prompts, his voice dropping an octave, softened by a plea he knows better than to put into words.
"You are a twenty-six-year-old man," Andrew finally says. The words sound like they are being dragged over gravel. He doesn't even look angry anymore, just exhausted. "Not a child who thinks holding his own health hostage is a valid negotiation tactic.”
"It got you to say something," Neil counters, though a sharp pang of guilt twists in his gut at the look in Andrew's eyes.
"Take the pills, Neil. I’m not going to argue with you about your inability to follow basic medical instructions. Not when I spent the night wondering if you were even going to wake up.”
Series
- Part 9 of Snapshots of Us
- Part 2 of A Million Quite Allowances
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Bookmark Notes:
anotha one