#Wymack already having the Foxes and Abby but being unable to let go of them for Kevin so he takes both in stride

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

i had an idea i would love to see from your perspective (you're so good at andreil oh my god) if you wanted to write some stuff about it? i always wondered how andrew reacted when he first found neil missing after the binghampton game (starts pg 235 in the king's men). thoughts? (-- the ttyl blog <3)

omg i literally finished re-reading that scene before seeing your ask skjflsj ~ i hope you like this ! (i'm just realizing that i barely followed ur request and just rambled a lot but that's FINE 😬)

read it on ao3 here :)

«««———»»»

Andrew walked in line to the bus with the rest of the Foxes, mind going a million miles an hour behind his impassive expression. 

"Thank you," Neil had said, eyes truer than Andrew had ever seen them. "You were amazing."

Andrew wasn't such a fool for Neil Josten that he couldn't figure out there was something more happening under the surface, something bigger than just an Exy shutout, that he wasn't telling anyone. Something forcing truth out of him.

Neil looked scared.

Apparently, no one else received the memo, because behind him, Matt Boyd kept kicking at Andrew's heels and Andrew could nearly see the nosy smile on Reynold's face. Boyd's voice was drowned out by the cacophony of both jeers and shouts of approval coming from all around them, but he had no doubts that Boyd was fishing for information surrounding his and Neil's "not this" to settle a bet of some sort.

Andrew didn't really care. He was more focused on leaving Binghamton, getting some answers out of Neil, and then kissing him senseless.

Of course, Andrew had no plans to tell Neil of that last item on the list, but he was sure he (and everyone else, apparently) knew anyway.

Maybe not Nicky, though. For all his cousin boasted about having an "incredible gaydar," he tended to be a bit clueless about Andrew.

Andrew's eyes were unfocused, gazing at the bounce of Neil's red curls while his thoughts wandered around nothing at all.

Nothing? his mind mused unhelpfully. Or Neil? Or is that one in the same now?

Shut up, he huffed internally. I hate him.

Lost in his head, it was only until he heard a pained curse from Aaron that he jerked straight and saw the world burning around him.

«««———»»»

Andrew's vision went red. 

He nearly would have broken out of line and straight into the tidal wave of rioters had he not noticed the police trying to push back the crowd. He had never trusted the pigs, but Andrew supposed he could let them handle the mess until he'd gotten a chance to check on Aaron at the bus.

He had nearly fooled himself with that thought when an ice cooler sailed through the air and missed Danielle's face by an inch. An enraged shout came from Andrew's right, and he could feel the familiar heat of adrenaline in his stomach that always came when he and Renee sparred.

There was going to be a fight.

No sooner than he had that thought, the crowd around him exploded into madness, nearly running the Foxes over. Andrew may have been ready to throw some punches, but he was not at all prepared for the onslaught of unfamiliar bodies piling on him. Moving around him. Touching him. 

Andrew couldn't breathe.

He lost sight of Neil's head in the mess, hoping one of the security guards would bring Neil to safety while Andrew tried to ground himself. What had Bee taught him? 

What is your name? Andrew Minyard.

How old are you? 20 years old.

What is upsetting you? Hands. Everywhere.

Can you do something about it? Yes. I can move now.

He felt the glancing blow of someone's elbow on his face, nearly hitting his eye. It was sure to bruise later, but for now, the sharp pain mixed with Bee's words were enough to shake Andrew out of his stupor.

He ducked to the left, neatly missing a thrown shoe and was grateful to his limited stature for once. He kept an eye out for a flash of red, the glint of blue eyes, but seeing that Neil was nearly as short as Andrew himself, the effort was futile.

He'll be fine, Andrew thought. Find Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin, and get to the bus.

To his surprise (or maybe not), Andrew found Reynolds trading fierce blows with someone twice her size, Renee at her back. He caught Renee's glance and she gave him a firm nod of reassurance.

He nodded back, already swiveling to find the rest of his group. 

After a few minutes, he spotted Nicky and Kevin huddled together, slowly moving to the edge of the crowd. He caught up and grabbed Nicky's wrist, who jerked away and reared his hand back for a punch before realizing it was Andrew.

Despite it all, Andrew felt a thrum of satisfaction. A few years ago, Nicky had let people beat him down over and over again. At least now he was learning to fight back.

"Oh thank god," Nicky cried, catching Kevin's attention, before his eyes widened. He reached out, remembering himself at the last second. "Andrew... your face, what happened?"

Andrew shrugged. He'd been through worse. 

Nicky looked like he wanted to say something, but Kevin cursed loudly and began pushing out of the sea of bodies with renowned vigor.

"It's getting more violent and more people are joining," Kevin said, voice strained. "We need to get out and regroup at the bus."

"Aaron?" Andrew asked. Nicky glanced around a few moments before pointing to his right.

"There!" he exclaimed, and motioned to Kevin to go in that direction. Kevin nodded and they made their way over to Aaron, who was ducking under beer bottles and was nearly smacked in the face by a PSU banner.

"Aaron!" Kevin called, and Aaron's shoulders dropped with relief as he swerved a growing fight and made his way over to them.

Andrew scanned his brother quickly and, after seeing no visible injuries, motioned to start back towards the parking lot. They made their way over to the bus and found Boyd and Danielle standing, the former looking like he'd just lost a fight with a mountain lion.

Danielle was gripping his arm as Abby tended to his wounds, but Andrew heard her say he might need to go to the hospital for the more serious injuries. Boyd looked pained at the thought, but when he glanced up and caught Andrew's eye, he smiled and waved them over.

"Andrew, here," Abby said, noticing his injury. He took an ice pack from her and glanced around.

"Where's Neil?" he asked, choosing to ignore the suggestive look between Boyd and Danielle. Abby shrugged and opened her mouth before her eyes caught on something behind Andrew and she waved.

Andrew turned around to find Renee and Reynolds walking proudly towards them. Reynolds had a mosaic of bruises all over her, and Renee was holding her wrist precariously.

Abby sighed and began treating them as Wymack rounded the front of the bus and finally found his team.

Not the whole team, a ringing voice said in Andrew's head. Neil isn't here yet.

Which was odd, no? He had a security guard in front of him, surely he would have made it here first? Perhaps Wymack had seen him and taken him somewhere. Maybe he was already safe in the bus and Abby hadn’t noticed him.

Andrew pushed past Danielle and boarded the bus, walking the length of it but not finding a loudmouthed striker in its shadows. His stomach became knotted with a curious feeling he slowly identified as dread.

Andrew was at the door of the bus again. He looked at Wymack.

"Where. Is. Neil." he demanded. He saw Wymack's confused expression and before he even said anything, Andrew felt his heart stop.

"I don't know. I thought he was with you."

Reynold's knowing smirk gave way to uncertainty as the rest of the Foxes quieted. There was silence for a moment. Two.

Then Andrew threw his ice pack on the floor and raced back into the heart of the riot.

«««———»»»

He ignored the shouts coming from behind him, his mind an endless loop of Neil, Neil, Neil, is he safe, has he been hurt, he was supposed to be nothing, NEIL

After a few minutes of searching and more than a few near punches, the police finally regained some control over the situation and Andrew was able to scour the grounds for any hint of where Neil might be.

He saw the racquet first. The duffle bag was a few meters away from it.

Numbly, Andrew picked up both items, grabbing Neil's phone as it fell from the netted side pocket.

0, it said. 

Andrew felt a piercing emptiness when he saw Neil's things without their rightful owner beside them.

He slowly walked back to the Foxes' bus, head pounding but unable to really register the dwindling fight behind him. And when the Foxes finally came in view, he saw the confusion on their faces when they saw no Neil walking with him.

Andrew mentally ran through everything that he knew. Neil was scared. He was running from someone, someone Kevin knew about? A zero on his phone from an unnamed number — a countdown, perhaps. He would never leave his things unattended, so maybe he wanted to tell Andrew he had been taken unwillingly, knowing that Andrew would never leave without him.

There was something he was missing, some vital piece of information that Neil hadn't told him that was causing this mess.

The guilty look on Kevin's face told Andrew everything he needed to know. He knew something.

He dumped Neil's things on the ground by Wymack's feet, mentally assessing himself. His cheek throbbed, each breath he took was sticky with sweat, his heart was pounding.

Neil was gone.

Andrew felt such a blind hot rage at that, the likes of which he hadn't felt in so long, the type where he felt like laughing at how cruel the world could be.

And before he could tell his body to stop, Andrew's hands were around Kevin's throat.

«««———»»»

"Shit Andrew! You're hurting— " "Andrew, stop— " "Get off of— "

«««———»»»

Andrew couldn't remember what happened after that, not immediately at least. It was a bit disorienting, going from a perfect recollection to being so overrun by anger that his mind went blank. Was this how everyone else felt all the time? He felt like someone just took out a Jenga piece from his mind, like it was close to collapsing.

Distantly, he recalled being yanked off of Kevin as he gasped some explanation about a mob boss, Kengo's right hand man, Nathaniel Wesninski. But none of it mattered. Andrew had broken his promise. He had hurt the person he had vowed to protect, just like so many had done to him.

And he still didn't have Neil.

«««———»»»

Neil used to make the emptiness a bit fuller, a bit easier to manage, Andrew thought. It felt so impossible to navigate himself now without Neil by Andrew's side.

«««———»»»

There was a hospital. A hotel. There were FBI agents. The news turned on. Off. On. There was another hotel. Handcuffs. Taken away.

«««———»»»

There was Nathaniel Neil. Standing in front of him. Blue eyes, wild hair, bandages unable to hide how irresistible he was, unable to stop the jolt in Andrew's heart.

There was Neil. And everything felt right again.

[jemej3m]

radio silence (chapter 2: andrew and aaron)

andrew starts taking his medication and aaron hates it just as much as his brother does, especially seeing as the pills wont even let him say it 

(heavy tw for mentions of matricide, canon-typical violence, sexual assault (thanks giving, andrew’s perspective), medication and drake’s murder) 

*

Andrew supposed he’d deserved it when Aaron went silent on him after Tilda died and Andrew forcefully shut Aaron into the bathroom of their new place to get clean, but it was still never silent.

There was always someone there at the other end of the line. Someone breathing down the phone, waiting to hear whatever you said. It was comforting only because it was all Andrew had ever known, unable to fathom what it was like to be completely alone.

When Andrew had been forced onto his medication after his perhaps over-enthusiastic response to Nicky being pushed around by a bunch of assholes outside Eden’s, a new kind of buzzing filled his head. 

Static. Grainy, grainy static. An external pressure, squeezing around his temples like his head was stuck in the clouds, thousands of miles above normal altitude. He hated the way it felt but there was nothing he could do about it, the grin curling on his lips without consent.

The first time Aaron had spoken to him in months was in the quiet of a dark kitchen. Nicky was asleep in his room. Andrew was making hot cocoa and unable to sleep because he’d taken his dosage too late. He’d noticed Aaron lingering by the kitchen’s entrance and refused to say anything, letting the false cheer dangle off the tip of his spoon as he watched droplets of hot cocoa slip off the aluminium surface, back into his mug. It’d long gone cold.

“I can’t hear you,” Aaron said, finally finding his spine to talk to his loony twin. “I can’t—reach out to you. It’s silent.”

“Well,” Andrew drawled, tempted to laugh. “Isn’t that a shame?”

“I hate it,” Aaron hissed, contradictory in every way. “We’ve never—we’ve never been apart before. I hate it. Can’t we—can’t you appeal?”

“Oh, Aaron,” Andrew lamented, hand over his heart. His brother’s vulnerabilities were cute, but there was no way Andrew would share his own. Not out loud. “You should go cry to someone who’s capable of caring. Because that person is definitely not me.” He grinned, arching an eyebrow.

“This isn’t you,” Aaron said, resolutely. As he paced back into the hallway, he repeated himself. “This isn’t you.”

Andrew simply laughed.

*

“On one condition,” Andrew said, pointing at Wymack and almost poking the old man in the chest. “My brother and cousin come on the team, too. And I get to come off my meds for games.”

Aaron startled. It was the first time Andrew had ever hinted that he, too, hated the loneliness.

*

When Kevin stumbled into Wymack’s apartment with a shattered hand, Andrew had laughed, pointing at him with a bottle of booze in his hand.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” He crowed. Kevin glared and did not laugh.

Pity. Aaron probably would’ve appreciated that.

*

Andrew, Aaron had whispered, sickeningly relieved as the curtain between them parted, their minds severed no more.

It would only be for another half hour or so, before Andrew had to take his dose at half time. He looked at his brother, watching the way relief wormed down Aaron’s spine and had him grip his racket harder.

It was their first game on the line. Most of the team hated Andrew and his merry band of monsters, of which had grown from three to four when Kevin promised Andrew that he would find him something to live for after his medicated euphoria eventually wore off. It was a lousy promise at best: Andrew had no disillusions about finding satisfaction in his life, and no desire to lie to himself either. Kevin’s miserable obsession with Exy couldn’t fill the gaping wound that’d been carved into Andrew’s chest the minute that Tilda left him in the plastic bucket of baby rejects.

The connection with Aaron strengthened as the withdrawal kicked up, sped up by the gruelling game. The Foxes lost, because of course they did, and Andrew faked a laugh to convince everyone in the arena that he wasn’t deviating from his parole.

Until next game, Aaron said, as Andrew swallowed the pills. He was too physically wretched to stifle the weak nod. Kevin looked between them, eyes narrowed. He’d probably figure it out, just like Nicky had a long while ago, but neither of them would say anything. It was best to just pretend that the twins hated each other, just like everyone else assumed.

Andrew was comfortable in the shadows of those assumptions. The four of them settled into the strange routine, dodging Riko and his Ravens and spending nights under the haze of cracker dust and alcohol.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, he knew Aaron was counting down the days till Andrew could come off the medications.

He, admittedly, was too.

*

Andrew was suddenly glad that Aaron could not hear his loudest thoughts most of the time, when Neil Josten rocked up, a bundle of lies and a bigger bundle of threats.

He was brown haired and brown eyed and barely tall enough to fit all his too-intricate stories within, and yet there he was, able to tell the difference between him and Aaron immediately, running away from Columbia in a feverish demand for freedom, stood in Wymack’s living room with half-truths tolerable enough for Andrew to swallow.

If Aaron could hear the way Andrew’s mind twisted and turned over Neil Fucking Josten, he’d be mighty suspicious.

Worse was when Neil began asking. And Andrew let himself answer. Worse was the way Neil practised honesty enough to keep Andrew intrigued but continually lied like an animal licking a wound it should just leave alone.

Thanksgiving came and went.

The real nightmare was the weekend after.

Andrew had never grown used to the static, not in the four years he’d been medicated, especially not when he let his shield against the world drop occasionally, for games or for nights at Eden’s. It was enough that neither him, nor Aaron, really got used to the absence. The absess.

He walked up the stairs to where Luther had promised him liquor, opening the door to Nicky’s old bedroom. It was dark, curtains drawn and the rust on the lock suspiciously etched, like it’d been tested recently. If Andrew was capable of conjuring warning bells through the cloud that surrounded him, he’d be hearing them ringing like they did in a bad man’s chapel on a Sunday morning.

One moment, he was staring a fully-fledged nightmare, dead between the eyes. The next his bottle of Blue came careening through the air, and the trickle of liquid down Andrew’s scalp was a strange concoction of hot blood and iced spirits, glass shards just to make it interesting.

It was like a waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three. One: Hand around Andrew’s neck. Two: Whispered words in his ear. Three: Seconds Andrew had to contemplate why him, like he was thirteen again. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two—

“Andrew,” Aaron snarled, more terrified for Andrew than he was of himself. He’d always known exactly who Drake was, who the Spears were: He’d almost been there. He’d certainly heard every one of Andrew’s broken cadences, desperately searching for an out.

And yet there he stood, bloodied, with Neil’s racket in his hands and blood across his face. Andrew couldn't hear himself, not when he laughed, not when he demanded if the blood was Aaron’s, not when Luther appeared in the doorway clutching the silver cross that dangled across his throat.

Remember? Andrew laughed. Cackled. Remember when you insisted it was just a misunderstanding?

“He told you, and you still brought him here?” Aaron said, cold, furious. They were closer and more intricately woven than anyone knew, Andrew clutching onto Aaron’s bloodied shirt as Neil covered him up with a sheet, laughter still wracking his body like a bloody cough. “Get out. Get out!”

Wasn’t it just niche, the way everything worked out. Aaron was lugged off in police custody whilst Andrew was strapped to a stretcher, paramedics shining light into his eyes. He was still buzzing too high off the ground to reach out to Aaron and see if he was alright, because even if Andrew cared about nothing, Aaron’s survival was still imperative. He’d fought so long for it, after all.

Neil offered himself up as Kevin’s leash, like he wasn’t fulfilling that role already. He shoved Andrew’s hand under his shirt and gave him his true name and Andrew was spinning. He was dancing so close to the edge. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so fucking terrified of losing control all over again.

“You’re not going to say goodbye to Aaron?” Abby asked, when Betsy had filched him from the comfort of his room to take him to Easthaven.

“Can’t say goodbye if you never said hello in the first place,” Andrew said, cheerfully as he skipped his way to the front door. None of them would truly understand the significance of that statement, that Andrew and Aaron had never said hello, nor goodbye. There was no need if they never left you alone.

He ignored the way Neil watched him as he left, ignored the idle chatter Betsy filled the car with, ignored the introduction of his psychiatric team.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have taken more care. It was too late now.

*

Andrew, Aaron breathed, when the fogginess lifted perhaps two weeks later. He had no way of telling, really. Andrew had his head in a bucket, the smooth plastic his constant view. Aaron’s voice was—admittedly—a comfort. Andrew, are you alright?  

You still behind bars? Andrew asked, craning his neck as he settled back into his stiff, unforgiving bed and its cold, unyielding sheets.

Matt’s mom paid my bail. We’re heading up to New York for Christmas as thanks.

You’re not telling me something.

Aaron made a derisive noise. Andrew was always the more perceptive one. Neil knows.

How.

He figured it out. I don’t know how. He told me to tell you not to let Proust near you before he left yesterday.

Left where?

Uncle was in town apparently. Wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Liar, through and through.

Be careful, Andrew. I have a hunch that Neil’s got privy information. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, but it seemed valid.

Thanks for the input, Andrew thought, sourly. Aaron snorted. Now, fuck off.

I hated the silence, Aaron offered.

Andrew stared silently out of the metal grate that covered his window, the bleak clouds and wind-swept trees.

As a form of peace offering with the only person who’d always been there for him, he said: Me too.

*

I’ve met a girl. Promise me you won’t hurt her.

I won’t if she gives me no reason to.

Her name is Katelyn. She makes me happy. Scare her off when you get back and I will tell everyone that you waited for months after our 11th birthday for your letter to Hogwarts.

Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kill you first.

*

Andrew walked out of his room and down the familiar corridors of his ward, beady eyes peering out at someone who was walking free. He was directed by Dr. Whoeverthefuck, clipboard under his arm and a haughty expression scrawled across his narrow features.

There was a bit of talking. Nicky called out his name, concern obvious and sickening and too much. Kevin was evaluating, Neil was curious and Aaron just looked at him blankly, like he always did. They didn’t need expressions or emotions or even spoken words to communicate. It was just enough to be. So when Andrew marched straight for the exit and threw his ward-stay clothes in the bin, Aaron wasn’t phased, following along closely behind.

Andrew held out the keys for Neil, who passed them over without a qualm. Good. He didn’t feel like arguing with Neil now, when he felt scraped out and broken down into tiny little fragments. Neil said nothing, his garishly blue eyes darting between Aaron and Andrew, perhaps a little too obviously for Neil’s liking. He had a bandage under his eye and bruises littering what little exposed skin Andrew could see, the red curls falling in tresses over his ears.

Why are you looking at him like that? Aaron muttered, climbing into the car. Andrew turned away from Neil sharply, clambering into the driver’s seat and slamming it behind him.

He kept the music loud enough to drown out Aaron’s curious prodding, refusing to look in the rear-view where Neil was sat, looking wistfully out of the window. Even Nicky was quiet, unsure of how to approach Andrew when he hadn’t really spoken to the man sober in four and a half years.

The drive was too fast. Aaron shuffled Nicky and Kevin inside the tower with little more than a brief you should take a nap, or at least have some coffee, before you face the others, like Andrew was still a prickly toddler.

Neil wasn’t as easily swayed. He reached under the driver’s seat to grab his stalker binder, bound in a plastic bag, before Andrew even had the chance to move out of the way. He couldn’t say he minded the proximity, even when the way Neil looked at him when Andrew accused him of breaking his promise made his heart skip.

“I hope Aaron warned you off Proust,” Neil murmured. “Riko said if I didn’t go, he would—“

His hand covered Neil’s mouth before he could let another treacherous word past his lips. Andrew fucking hated him. He fucking hated him.

Proust had entered his room in the early hours of an average morning, smiling beseechingly. Andrew refused to talk to him, instead threatening the nurse that came in after Proust’s session that if he ever caught Proust in his vicinity again, he would break the man’s neck.

The doctor was kept well away from Andrew after that.

“I don’t need your protection, or your condolences.” He snapped.

“No, I suppose not.” He echoed. “Have you and Aaron always been able to hear one another? I thought it was an urban myth.”

“Shut up.” Andrew said, voice more of a snarl than he intended it to be. Neil was making his control slip and he hadn’t even been back for a half hour yet. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Neil said, easily.

*

i know theres a lot of lacking scenes from canon but its not about andrew and neil srry lmao its twinyards week for a reason (andreil worms its way in anyway, but i tried my best)

stay tuned for tomorroww!!