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The hum of the bathroom light pressed into Neil’s brain like a knife. The thought of it alone nearly made him want to burst out laughing. After everything else he’d gone through and it was a bathroom light that was making him compare to the blades his father and his people had held to him. The middle of the night was never kind. It had never been something Neil knew to trust and relax with until Andrew.
Andrew who made him feel safe. Andrew who replaced the weapons he tucked under his pillows. Andrew who protected him from everything but couldn’t protect him from the horror in his head.
The reflection that stared back at him.
His father he found when he tried to look himself in the eye.
The longer Neil looked in the mirror the more the reflection moved despite him standing still. He was trying to breathe. He was trying to keep himself steady. On the run it had been necessary to keep his emotions in check or he would die. Emotions made someone dangerous. Fear could pump through his veins and it would push him to run faster. It would push him to escape. He knew the threat of what would happen to him. His Father, his Father’s men, everything that entailed.
The wounds on his face were ever present reminders. The scars he wore on his body. The damage that was left in him that had been carved by the man named butcher while Neil could do nothing to protect himself. He was weak. He’d been slow. He’d been pathetic.
His mother’s voice echoed through his head like she was still there with him. Neil could imagine her too. The ghost of her that stood over the shoulder of his reflection and looked at him with nothing but disdain in her eyes. She was angry with him. His father was dead and Neil was meant to be free but she was angry with him. He’d sold himself to the Moriyamas and they would own him for the rest of his life. He’d made his deal to try to save himself. he’d tried to save Kevin. He’d tried to save Jean. There were so many things he’d done since that meeting that were done for the purpose of protecting his family and still Neil felt like none of it was enough.
Some days he would question it. Sitting up on the roof with Andrew silent beside him. The two of them looking out over everything as the smoke from Andrew’s cigarette flooded the air. Each breath beside him was a calm Neil loved. A focus and a protection that always inherently meant Andrew even though a year ago it had reminded him of his mother. Andrew had made something safe in the world for him. His protection. His love even if they didn’t fully call it that.
Their nothing.
The both of them had their bad days and bad nights. They had their goods ones too. They had days where every sound would make him want to run out of his own skin. Some days it took Andrew following him behind in the car and waiting for him to run until his legs collapsed beneath him. Some days it took Andrew sitting alone on the window ledge with no one near him to keep him calm. They were good at reading each other by now. They were good at knowing what the both of them needed at any given time. There were still the permissions. Still a whispered ‘yes or no’ before touches. Still calm moments between them where they learned the lines of one another. Neil still asked where he was allowed to touch. Andrew still asked permission even though Neil told him it was always a yes.
He’d meant it.
He loved it.
He missed it.
He needed it.
Neil took a shuddering breath and held it. The force of the air made his lungs stretch enough to burn. For all he ran and all the training he did on the court it should take more than this. Panic left him feeling like he was trapped in his own body. His lungs wouldn’t open. His heart was beating too fast. Every nerve through his skin was telling him he needed to run. His hair stood on edge with the fear that someone was going to grab him. He was going to be hurt. He was being watched. He needed to go. He’d been in one place for too long. He shouldn’t be here. He had to leave.
He tried to imagine Andrew’s hand on the back of his neck. The pressure that had always managed to calm him down even though if anyone else tried to touch him like that he was fairly certain he would stab them.
Neil knew he was violent. He knew he reacted to strike and run before he would give in. He knew the tells of his fear.
His family.
He barely smothered the sob that tried to pull out of him. It disgusted him. He’d never had breakdowns like this when he was spending every day looking at a countdown to his death. He’d never cried like this when he was facing his Father or Lola. He’d never sobbed himself hysterical when he was on the run. His mother would have taken him by the hair and dragged him along until he got sense into him. She would have stopped him from getting to this point. From hiding in the bathroom with the vent to smother the sound of his tears.
Part of him wished he could say it had been a nightmare that got him into this situation. That it was an anniversary date or an event that triggered memories to come back to the surface. That it was his mind torturing him and making him feel like he was back there.
It wasn’t. It hadn’t been.
The night had been perfect.
He and Andrew had their space to themselves. They’d talked and watched stupid movies. Andrew had complained but he put them on anyway the moment Neil said he wanted to watch them. Matt had been making references with Nicky all week and he wanted to know the context behind it. He wanted to learn, now that he had the chance, how to try to pretend to be normal with them. The Foxes had given him that chance and he wanted to take it. Andrew didn’t refute that. Andrew had explained things to him when it didn’t make sense. He’d watched him and even though all the others would have said there was no change in his expression, Neil knew. He knew the change in Andrew’s eyes. He knew the softness that hid there.
The specific way he watched him when he was irritated or when he was enjoying observing. Andrew didn’t smile but that didn’t mean he went without expression. He still showed his emotion. It was just that no one else knew how to read it from him.
Neil knew.
He knew when he was laying in bed with Andrew above him. When he could run his fingers through Andrew’s hair or grip onto his shoulders as they explored one another. When he would say yes or gasp it or moan it and Andrew would respond in kind to kiss more out of him.
They’d cleaned up. They’d gone to sleep.
They’d had a good night.
But Neil had woken up with the moon still shining high in the sky beyond the window and Neil had felt his heart hammering like a trapped bird in his chest. He’d been careful while climbing out of bed. He knew that there was a high chance he was going to disturb Andrew but he wanted to avoid it if he could. The both of them were too light of sleepers for their own goods sometimes. It was a little ridiculous and if he’d felt any differently than he did waking up, Neil would have just stayed there and dealt with it so Andrew could sleep.
All he could feel was the burn of his scars. Like he was back in that car with Lola melting his flesh all over again.
Every shadow he saw made his heart beat faster. Ever piece of clothing left exposed was a person lying in wait. Every ambient sound was a threat ready to pounce. Ready to punish him. Punishment for being careless. For getting complacent. For growing weak.
There were plenty of people who would punish him for his life. He was the son of the butcher. he was the son of one of the most prominent and dangerous criminals and he’d thrown it away because of what? A better life? He’d listened to the way some of his classmates would talk about true crime shows or documentaries. How they would say they wished they had the lives of big crime lords. He’d heard references to mob movies or other shows that highlighted and glamorized all of the life that stole everything from him. it made his stomach churn.
Anger, guilt, hate, sorrow. He could never settle on just one of them. It was why he ran. Why he pushed himself one foot after the other. If he could run fast enough he might be able to outrun his thoughts. He might be able to outrun his past.
He ran to Andrew.
Right now Andrew was sleeping. He needed it. He hadn’t been sleeping well for the last few nights. Neil had woken up with Andrew already having breakfast ready for them both. He needed to sleep. It wasn’t fair that Andrew’s first good night was Neil’s first bad one in a while. It wasn’t fair that this was happening without a reason. That he was just panicking for nothing.
His scars were scars, not open wounds. They didn’t hurt, he was just in his head. He was being ridiculous. He was being weak. He was better than this.
The ghost of his father smiled back at him from the mirror and Neil felt the drag of a phantom knife against his skin. He remembered the cuts. He remembered every trail of fire that felt like it was slicing through his skin. He remembered every time he cried or yelled or tried to get away. He remembered the beach with his mother. He remembered watching her die. He remembered seeing Andrew and realizing what might be between them. Dissolving the promise between them and how he’d looked at Andrew in the locker room that day.
“Thank you. You were amazing.”
He promised that he was done running. Neil had sworn that he was done trying to run from his problems instead of facing them to fight them. He’d thought he’d been doing good at it. That he was being better than he was in the past. He thought he’d found strength through the Foxes to be able to stand for himself. The backing and the stable ground they gave him to be able to stand up for himself. Neil had wanted all of it. He’d believed in all of it.
Now he was just weak. He was nothing. He failed them. He wasn’t running but he was standing here crying and that wasn’t much better. He wasn’t leaving but he was falling apart. What good was he to the Foxes or the Moriyama’s if this was the best he could do when looking at his own reflection? If this was the way he reacted to just waking up in the middle of the night? If Ichirou saw him now he would have him killed. He might even pull out the gun and shoot him dead like he did to his own brother. It wouldn’t be a surprise.
Neil’s own flesh and blood didn’t want him alive, why would his enemy?
He barely heard the knock on the door with as soft as it was. It wasn’t until the knob turned and squeaked as it did that Neil reacted to it. That his heart jumped into his throat and made him gag and choke on the lack of air into his lungs. The door opened faster at the sound he made.
Neil came face to face with Andrew and in less than a second there was a hand on the back of his neck and he was being pushed. Neil went willingly. He followed Andrew’s guidance down until his knees were pressing into the cold tile floor and he was bending over himself. He let Andrew move. Let him kneel down in front of him and adjust so that the door was open fully and the hallway was in sight.
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
His voice shook as it came out and Neil wanted to curse himself until he was mute. Self-hatred burned him the longer he stayed here. He wrapped his arms around his middle and dug his nails into his arms. It would give him something else to focus on. Something else to be aware of.
“I woke you up?”
Andrew hated apologies.
“I heard you choke.”
He hadn’t realized he was being that loud. It would have got him caught. it would have gotten him killed.
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” There wasn’t heat in his voice. “Breathe.”
He tried to obey. One shaking breath after the other he worked on filling his lungs. With Andrew it was easier. Having him close like this was a comfort he couldn’t replicate. The weight of his hand, the pressure he put against him, the smell of his soaps and everything else that was just inherently him.
Neil loved him.
“Nightmare?”
He shook his head.
“It was nothing.”
“This isn’t nothing.”
He laughed. Mocking and cold and antagonizing.
“No nightmare. No flashbacks before bed. Nothing.”
Andrew stared at him. he remembered the beginning when they’d first started to know one another. How Andrew had looked at him like he was a math problem. How they’d argued about it. it was the same look now.
“What woke you up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you in here?”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
The half glare of Andrew’s eyebrows communicated enough what his partner thought of that.
“And this?”
Andrew’s thumb swiped gently beneath his eye to wipe away a tear still falling. The others called him a monster more times than he could count but he’d always been gentle with Neil. Especially in times like this.
“The mirror. My scars.”
“What about them? Don’t say you don’t know.”
He thought about how he wanted to say it. What he could admit with it. How much of his damage Andrew was willing to take and accept. He explained how he’d woken up. How his heart had been racing and how he made it to the bathroom. How the buzzing of the light had driven a spike behind his eyes.
“Every time I look in the mirror I see my father looking back at me. My scars itch. They burn like they’re new. I know they’re not. I know I’m being stupid. I should go to bed. We can go back to bed. I’m fine, Drew, I—”
“Don’t promise me something that’s not the truth.”
Neither of them spoke or moved for a moment. The silence of the room settled around them like a weighted blanket without the usual comforts of softness. it was like both of them were trying to find where the other stood with each other.
“We can stay up tonight.” Andrew said.
“You’re tired.”
“You’re afraid. We can stay up.”
“We have classes in the morning.”
“So we won’t be late.”
There was nothing Neil could think of in his life that would wind up to him deserving Andrew. Nothing that made him worthy of the man in front of him. The protection Andrew offered without a second thought. the comfort he provided without even trying.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
It was the closest thing to an apology he could get. Andrew only shrugged at him.
“You needed me.”
They could have this argument until they were old and gray. it was a risk if either of them would get to live long enough to see those days. Neil certainly had never thought he would manage to live long enough to reach that. He’d always imagined he’d die young. That his father would catch him and that would be the end of it all. His father had caught him but life continued on. Nathaniel died in that basement with his father but Neil had the chance to live. Neil had the chance to carry on with the rest of his life. To be normal as much as he could for his war with the Ravens. He could play Exy. He didn’t die in a car or in a basement. He got to have a family he built around him. he got to protect them and love them and they gave him the same things in return.
Neil got to be happy.
He got to be safe.
That was everything he’d ever wanted.
“Andrew?”
There wasn’t a response but Neil knew he was listening.
“Thank you.”
He rested his head against Andrew’s shoulder. The protective hold around him grew tighter for a moment as his partner squeezed his shoulders.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You love me.”
His scars still ached. They still burned but the longer he stayed here with Andrew’s touch to ground him, the less they hurt. The longer he was here and knew he was safe the more the burning pain of them dissipated to the back of his mind. he wasn’t looking at his reflection and finding his father staring back at him. He wasn’t looking at the ghost of his mother standing over his reflections shoulder. He wasn’t looking at all of his wounds cut open again and bleeding fresh blood down his limbs. He wasn’t in that house in Baltimore. He wasn’t watching his Uncle raid the place with the FBI. He wasn’t looking at his father’s body. He wasn’t in the hospital bed wondering if he would ever see his family again or if they would ever know the truth of what happened to him. He wasn’t facing the mob trying to make a deal that would save him and keep him and his friends alive.
Neil wasn’t fighting anymore. He wasn’t fighting with his body waiting to see what injury was going to be the one that destroyed him or stole his life. He wasn’t fighting with his mind against memories that were hunting him like it was the only sport they knew.
He was safe.
Still in the bathroom and still on the floor and the humming of the light still made his head pound and spin to the point he vaguely thought he might throw up, but he was safe. He was in front of Andrew. Every breath he pulled into his lungs was filled with comfort rather than stabbing panic. His nerves were all still high and still on edge but he was safe. He was okay now. He was home now.
Andrew was home. Andrew was here. Andrew was safe.
He wouldn’t be hurt if Andrew was here.
“Can we stay here a little longer?”
If Andrew wanted him to move he would. If he wanted him to get up and stop touching him, Neil would do it without a second thought. He wouldn’t blame him. He would never blame him.
Instead of rejection, Andrew tugged him closer. Careful, open, every option to remove himself if something was misunderstood. A question of consent even if it wasn’t voiced out loud. Neil practically melted against him.
“Thank you.” He repeated.
Under a normal circumstance there might be complaining from Andrew and the fact that he hated repeating things but there were no comments to greet him now. Neil just needed him to know how much it meant. How much his comfort truly meant to him in times like this.
His mother would have screamed at him and pulled his hair until he was running and couldn’t think beyond that. His father would have killed him. He’d never had anything or anyone before that would give him comfort when he was crying for no reason in the middle of the night.
“Do your scars still hurt?”
He tucked his head closer to Andrew’s neck.
“I’m fine.”
“There’s a cream in the cabinet. It’ll help.”
He was speaking from experience then.
“Okay.”
“You don’t need to be a martyr.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Neither of them moved. They didn’t have to. Not yet. Not like this. Not when they had each other and the nothing that it was.
“Drew?”
No response. He didn’t need one.
“I love you.”
Andrew huffed. Neil smiled at the affection in it.
“Junkie.”
And Neil knew he loved him too.