#did it satiate the writing bug for a bit? u betcha

[littlespoonevan]

we fall apart as it gets dark

hahaha what’s this??? who knows!!!! basically i got a serious urge to write this morning and it didn’t go away but i’m still at a lost as to what to write so here’s my go-to scene i think abt when i’m trying to fall asleep of andrew and neil staying in the interrogation room the night after baltimore. (also somewhat inspired by @nickyklose‘s post bc i think that’s what spurred me into thinking about this scene in the first place months ago???) title from i love you by billie eilish. i hope u enjoy <33

*

They ride to the police station the FBI are working out of in silence. And normally, Neil wouldn’t sit in the middle when there’s a perfectly empty seat to his left but the press of his knee against Andrew’s is grounding. (For both of them, he thinks).

Fuck, he can’t believe this. He can’t believe he can feel the heat of Andrew’s body next to him – that Andrew is next to him at all – when he was convinced 24 hours ago that he’d be dead by now. He’d said his silent goodbye to Andrew in Lola’s car, eyes closed as he’d braced himself between burns.

But now, he’s so tired he’s delirious and his head is throbbing but Andrew is here so breathing feels a little easier than it has been.

The car jolts to an unceremonious halt sometime later outside a nondescript station and their hands brush as they both reach to release their seat belts. Even through the bandages, Neil feels the slight pressure of Andrew’s fingers squeezing his for half a second before they’re gone.

Despite his exhaustion he forces himself to talk once they’re in the interrogation room, revealing everything in excruciating detail and answering every question the FBI can throw at him. Andrew’s gaze burns a hole in the side of his head as he talks but Neil doesn’t look at him, lest he lose his nerve.

After what feels like hours the questions stop and two cots are shoved into the interrogation room for them to sleep. They’re given a measly meal of sandwiches from the local deli, vending machine snacks and crappy coffee but Neil’s too tired to be hungry enough to be annoyed about it. Eventually the guard who’d been stationed in the room with them leaves with their food wrappers and doesn’t return, giving them their first moment alone since the game.

Neil stands stock still at the end of his cot, fingers catching on the scratchy blanket draped on top. Andrew’s standing opposite him and seems to be at war with himself until he takes a decisive step forward, digging his fingers into Neil’s shoulder and pulling him in for a crushing hug.

Neil is frozen for a beat before he hugs back, sinking into Andrew’s embrace and breathing in his familiar scent.

“If you ever fucking do that again, Josten-“ Andrew warns, voice bitten off and furious.

“I won’t,” Neil promises before he can finish his threat.

Andrew pulls back enough to meet his gaze. “I won’t save you,” he says and Neil believes him.

Andrew won’t save him because he’ll be too busy trying to save himself from feeling anything.

“You won’t have to,” Neil murmurs and there’s that look again – like Andrew’s fighting whatever he actually wants to say.

“You need to sleep,” he says and with that, he lets go.

*

There’s only a couple of inches between their cots. Andrew can’t remember if the guard left them like that or if he moved it himself. Either way, he’s lying on his side facing Neil and he’s too afraid to close his eyes in case he disappears again.

Neil’s also on his side – the less damaged side, without the burn on his cheek and less bruising. Andrew drinks in every inch of his frame like he’s trying to commit him to memory. (As if Neil in all forms hasn’t already been seared into his brain for all eternity.)

The sickening knot he’s felt in the pit of his stomach since Neil went missing is finally loosening, unfurling just enough that his anxiety about his feelings for Neil can take the forefront instead. He doesn’t think he can hide it anymore – not from himself at least. The thought of losing Neil had been so unbelievably unfathomable Andrew was very nearly sick with it. He’d felt the darkness creeping back in, consuming the parts of his heart he’d let go soft in all the quiet moments where Neil had prodded at his barriers.

And now? Andrew feels the beginnings of a panic attack just at the thought of being without him.

Neil’s eyes are closed, his features relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever. Andrew doesn’t know what compels him to do it but there’s a single curl laying across Neil’s forehead and before he can stop himself he’s reaching a hand out to brush it back off his face.

He’s hardly touched Neil when Neil’s eyes are opening and his fingers are wrapping around Andrew’s wrist to hold his hand in place.

They share a look and Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever seen understanding in anyone’s eyes the way he does with Neil. His hand rests against Neil’s hair, thumb sweeping out to brush against the skin just above the edge of the bandage that’s covering the burn on his cheekbone. Neil turns his head, just barely, until his lips graze the palm of Andrew’s hand and Andrew feels a light inside him that he wasn’t sure existed anymore begin to flicker.

He swallows back the words on his lips, the thoughts that almost spring forward without his permission, and gently pulls his hand back. Neil lets him.

“Goodnight, Neil,” he whispers, voice rough with something that he’s not sure is tiredness.

Neil stares at him, a penetrating stare that gets right to the heart of him and lays him bare, and then he smiles. Just slightly. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

*