#i just think of him singing troye sivan songs and suddenly im drawing

[ultimatedirk]

more doodles of floyd singing

[littlespoonevan]

you saved my life with and we'll be running. THAT WAS SO GOOD!!! I mean, my life will never be the same again!!! you write so well!! any chances that you write the scene wheres andrews plays talk me down in his pov?? pal i almost cried in that scene, TMD is my favorite song!! thank you so much for writing this fic!! i love you. and i will stop being creep now, im just excited

i mean first of all, thank you so much holy shit???????????? that’s such an amazing compliment????? i’m really glad you enjoyed it :’) second of all i’m sorry this took so long but jfc writing this scene from andrew’s pov was so hard??? like i found it difficult enough to write from neil’s pov without also trying to get into andrew’s head? but i tried my best so i hope it’s what you’ve been looking for!!!

song used is Talk Me Down - Troye Sivan

*

Andrew feels the panic that has been seizing in hischest the last couple of days unwind just the slightest bit when he finally hasNeil safe and whole in his apartment and he hates it.

He hates that Neil has affected him so deeply. Thathe’s somehow managed to dig his fingers in and burrow beneath Andrew’s skin tothe point where Andrew feels a bone-rattling terror at the thought of losinghim.

He thinks he might hate it more because he knows hefailed Neil.

He promised to protect him. He promised Neil thatRiko wouldn’t touch him and he failed.Neil almost fucking died because of him. He hates the way he feels about Neil.He hates Neil. But mostly, he hates himself.

His knuckles are white where they’re clenched aroundthe notebook in his hand and it takes all his self-control not to rip it toshreds and light the pieces on fire. He doesn’t like looking at it; he usuallyonly ever reaches for it in the dark – when he can’t sleep and his defences arelowered just enough that he feels like writing something down.

When he hears the front door click shut after Abbyand Wymack he carries himself into the living room where Neil has set up campon his couch. He looks too small still, small and fragile with a bruise on hischeekbone and a split lip.

Andrew forces himself to throw the notebook into Neil’slap even though parting with it makes him feel sick. He might as well have sawnoff his arm and handed Neil that instead – though he thinks even that might notbe as revealing as what he just gave Neil.

Neil stares down at it, perplexed, hand sliding overthe cover and making Andrew want to shiver as if Neil had touched his own spineand not the book’s. “What’s this?” Neil asks finally, gaze wandering back up toAndrew’s.

“You wanted to see my songs.” The words taste likeash on Andrew’s tongue but he forces them out anyway.

Neil’s eyes drop right back down to the notebook,mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ shape as he stares at it with new kind of expressionon his face – somewhere between shock and confusion.  “Why are you giving this to me?”

Andrew huffs, hands clenching and unclenching at hissides as he looks for a way out. Finding none, he settles on, “I broke mypromise.”

Neil’s head snaps up so quickly Andrew’s surprised hedoesn’t wince at the feeling of it. “No you didn’t.” He stares at Andrew and,finding no change his expression, presses on. “Andrew, no you didn’t. Riko’s the one to blame here and as far as I’mconcerned he got his penance. This isn’t my fault and it’s not yours either. Incase you’re forgetting, you’re the one who found me.”

He’s earnest and fervent and so fucking stubborn,Andrew can’t stand him.

“Because Jean and Kevin-“

“And who else was quick enough to lose the thug Rikohad following them?” Neil challenges. “If you hadn’t gotten to me as fast asyou did who knows what would’ve happened?”

Andrew glares at him, swallowing down the venomcreeping up his throat. “I promised you I wouldn’t let him touch you.”

“And he won’t anymore,” Neil says simply, quieterthan they’d been talking before. He looks down at his lap again, index fingertracing over the cover once more before he does something Andrew doesn’texpect. He holds the notebook back out to him.

Andrew stares at his outstretched hand. “You wanted-“

“Not like this,” Neil shakes his head. “I want toread your lyrics but only if you want me to. Not because you’re punishingyourself.”

Andrew fucking hates him. He hates the way Neil canread him so clearly without even having to try. He snatches the book back whenhe decides he can’t look at Neil anymore and storms out of the room.

His own bedroom feels claustrophobic with the doorclosed but he needs to be alone. He spends the afternoon in there with thecurtains drawn, sitting in the darkest corner of the room while he tries to makesense of the tangled mess of his head. Neil makes him feel things. Things henever wanted to and never knew he could feel. He’d thought this part of himselfdied long ago, until Neil had stumbled into his life and suddenly turned thevolume up full blast.

He leaves his room once to make sure Neil eats but hecan’t stay in the living room with him while he does.

Panic is still clawing at his throat, twisting him inknots so tightly he feels he might choke with it.

He lies on his bed when he returns to his room, eyesfixated on the nightstand where he’d dropped the notebook earlier. There’s asong in there, words that had been niggling at the back of his head for toolong. Words that he’d very briefly spilled to Neil one day on a plane with apen in one hand and Neil’s palm in the other.

The thought of singing it scares him in a way thatheights never have.

But the fact that part of him actually wants Neil to hear scares him even more.

It’s hours later when he’s about to go to bed that hemakes a split second decision and goes to the living room instead. Neil isstill awake, doodling in his own notebook, and he startles when he noticesAndrew.

“Come on,” Andrew says before walking away again,tracing a familiar path through his apartment until he reaches his music room.

Neil finds him not long after, already sitting on thepiano bench and staring at the keys like they’ll have an answer for him.

“I didn’t know you played,” Neil says quietly andAndrew glances at him over his shoulder, only looking away when Neil drawscloser.

“Sometimes,” Andrew admits, moving to one side of thebench so Neil can sit beside him.

He watches the way Neil’s fingers caress the keys,not pressing down, just ghosting over them in something like curiosity. Oradmiration.

“I told you I finished the lyric.” Andrew saysfinally and Neil turns to him.

“Andrew, you don’t have to-“

Andrew shakes his head because if Neil talks he’llnever work up the nerve to do this ever again. “Just- shut up.”

Neil stops and Andrew looks away from him, focusingon the keys instead. It’s the only thing that lets him play. He blocks Neilout, spreads his fingers out over the keys and opens his mouth to sing.

“I wanna sleep next to you  But that's all I wanna do right now  And I wanna come home to you  But home is just a room full of my safest sounds…”

He can feel Neil’s eyes onhim and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up but he forceshimself to continue.

This is about Neil. But it’salso about him a little bit.

It’s Andrew taking thatstep off the ledge and letting himself fall for once. He’s letting Neil knowhow he feels about him in a way they both understand. But he’s also lettinghimself just- feel. He’s not choking back the words or hiding them beneath amask of impassivity. He’s just being.

He thinks idly Betsy wouldbe proud of him.

He sings, “Come overnow and talk me down,” and part of him still shrinks away from how true thewords are. How there’s a pressing, intrusive thought at the back of his headthat’s just begging Neil to save him. He doesn’t need saving and he doesn’tthink Neil could anyway even if he tried; Andrew is definitely too far gone.But asking Neil to simply be there feels just as vulnerable.

He finishes the song witha lump in his throat that he pointedly ignores, voice trailing off until it’shardly above a whisper by the time he reaches the final lyric. His fingersstill on the piano and he holds himself frozen, staring at the music sheetswith unseeing eyes while he processes what he’s just done.

Neil’s fingers are cold onthe underside of his chin and gently tilt Andrew’s head until they’re gazesslide to meet one another.

“Thank you,” Neilwhispers, a quiet kind of incredulity in his voice. “You were amazing.”

Neil’s gaze flickers fromAndrew’s eyes to his mouth and he takes an agonisingly long time to close thedistance between them. But when he does it feels like the moment after anexhale, like the moment of coming up for air after you’ve been holding yourbreath for too long.

Andrew’s never been sograteful to take a breath in his entire life.

*