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ninyard · 3 years ago

Note

part two of the stefan/andrew au PLEASE

WELP this might not be the part two people wanted but here’s what I wanted so~ enjoy!

(Part 1 ? is here)

((this got rly long so I had to stop but if u want a third part lmk 🥺👉👈))

Neil made his first mistake by not bolting the opposite way when Coach Hernandez told him he had visitors. An Exy racquet to the chest and a single glance at those bright hazel eyes turned Neils entire world sideways in seconds. This couldn’t be happening. Neil almost couldn’t hold back the ‘Andrew?’ that wished to escape his lips. Of course, this wasn’t Stefan’s Andrew, but Neil knew that already. Life had turned Andrew Minyard into a man of manufactured emotions, a life of violence and misled decisions landing him on Coach Wymack’s pity party guest list that was the Foxes’ lineup. Andrew didn’t flinch looking at Neil, and Neil begged the universe to have erased the memory of Stefan from Andrew mind. He hung around a motel, for Christ’s sake, how many other people would he have met before and after Stefan? Neil Josten looked totally different, with puberty, hair dye and new contact lenses on his side.

The second mistake he made was not realising Kevin Day was going to be around. If Andrew wasn’t dangerous enough, Kevin was even more so. Neil couldn’t believe his eyes the moment he looked closely at the teams lineup from the previous year. Kevin Day would have forgotten Nathaniel Wesninski, he was sure of it, but to look across to a picture of the teams goalkeeper and seeing the short blond boy he met in California? It was a sure sign for Neil to stay the hell away from South Carolina.

Neil’s biggest mistake was deciding to push his luck and take a plane there to sign with the Foxes. He was signing a death wish; but he didn’t care anymore. He was a dead man walking, living off stolen hours. It was only a matter of time before someone caught up with him. His mother was dead, god, his mom, Mary Hatford, the woman who taught him how to be. It wasn’t just like Debby, who died leaving Toronto, or Alice, who died leaving London, or Judy who died on the train between Germany and Prague. This was permanent, and Neil didn’t think he could run for much longer.

Andrew didn’t say anything during their meeting, in which he had plenty of opportunities to at least look like he recognised Neil, or the features of Stefan still left on his face. Kevin didn’t say anything either, and his words made it clear he didn’t remember Nathaniel, either. Neil was walking a thing line between life and death, with Stefan on one shoulder and Nathaniel on the other, waiting to tip him over, to expose the truth, to leave him buried like his mother.

The first night Neil slept - or more so lay on the couch in silence for hours, brain filled with noise and regret - in David’s apartment, he couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kid with white-blond hair and a toothy smile, who ran his fingers so gently over Stefan’s skin, like he would break if Andrew dared get any closer. He couldn’t stop thinking about the playground, and the motel, and the kisses… and the punches, the kicks, the pulling of hair, the slaps across the face with yells to accompany them. Before Neil knew it he was stuck with his face hovering over the toilet bowl, his stomach threatening to burst at any moment. After a minute of gagging and spitting into the water, Neil washed his face and headed towards the balcony that David told him to smoke on if he needed to. This was one of those needing to moments.

Weeks went by without any indication he was going to be caught. Kevin looked at him like a stupid amateur, which was good for Nathaniel’s sake, but for Neil? Neil, who fought like his life depended on the racquet in his hands? Neil, who ran like his father was hot on his heels every single time he set off down the court? It hurt him to be insulted so often, but Kevin was leagues above him when he played. Neil was never going to be good enough. Andrew avoided him as much as possible. Nicky told him that was just how Andrew was; if you brought him no benefit, or if you made him bored, he would put you on a high shelf and never look at you again. By the way Andrew only spoke to Neil when Neil stood up to Kevin, Neil thought it was obvious that Andrew didn’t recognise him.

And then came the invite to Columbia.

“Get rid of the contacts, by the way.” Nicky had brushed off the realisation like it was nothing. It sounded like ‘you have something in your teeth’ but felt like a screaming siren above Neil’s head. It felt like a punch to the gut, like a gun to his head. “Andrew’s decision. And brown, Neil? You’re so predictable and boring it’s adorable.” He’d left a bag of clothes with Neil.

When Neil looked at his blue eyes, he felt too many feelings he couldn’t describe, or name. He felt like he was looking at his father. He felt like he was looking into the mirror like he had the last time he was Nathaniel. The last time he was in Baltimore. He’d cycled through the catalogue of contacts during his time on the run, but never once went back to blue. They were the icy eyes of a murderer, not the eyes of quiet, boring Neil. But at least they weren’t green. Neil was worried about Kevin recognising him by his eyes, but it was going to be dark out by the time they left. Neil would just have to stay in the dark around Kevin, and hope he got too drunk to notice, too drunk to remember.

When Andrew’s group came to pick Neil up, there was a change in dynamic Neil hadn’t seen before. Instead of Nicky being the middle man in their conversations, or Kevin being the reason to talk, Andrew was taking charge of their night. Neil’s heart raced every time he looked into his eyes. Every time he heard that voice it told him to run, the same voice as before, only deeper, emotionless. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew crying. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew being open, about his sexuality, or his feelings. If he didn’t look almost the same only older, he would probably doubt this was even the same Andrew.

“Oh! Oh, now, that’s interesting!” Andrew had commented as Neil left his dorm room. Nicky, Aaron and Kevin had walked ahead of the two of them. When they’d disappeared around the corner into the elevator down, Andrew turned and grabbed Neil’s face to inspect it. “What a change, hmm? Blue to brown is a bit drastic for fashion, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never liked my eyes,” Neil spoke through the fingers that rested over his lips. “I’ve worn them brown most my life.” Andrew tutted as Neil spoke, but left that thought there. His features were angry, like Neil had insulted him, but he S miled like he’d been talking to his best friend. He placed a cigarette between his lips as they joined the others in the elevator.

Before long, they were walking through the doors of Eden’s Twilight, music pumping and swirling through the air, vibrating their bodies as they walked. Andrew motioned for Neil to follow him to the bar once they’d found a table.

“Shots on me.” He’d come down from his manic high, waiting for his dust adrenaline to kick in. His smile was gone, but his tone and way of speaking was still the same. “What do you drink?”

“I don’t,” Neil answered, having to yell over the music.

“Sure you do.” Andrew waved him off. “I’m being polite. What do you drink?” He asked again, as the bartender came over.

“A coke for me.” Neil told the man behind the bar before he could ask Andrew. “Just a little ice.”

“See, now, Pinocchio, when someone offers you a gift you say thank you and accept it.” Andrew turned towards the man. “Roland. This is Neil. He’s a newbie.”

“I hear you,” Roland nodded, already placing shot glasses on the tray he’d put on the bar. “My choice, with dash for the new kid.” He poured a clear spirit into eight shot glasses, and used the fountain tap to fill a larger glass with cola. Andrew passed cash over and waved off his change as a tip. Before Neil knew it he was heading through the crowd, Andrew balancing the tray on one hand held high above his head. They reached the table and nothing has spilled, and before Neil knew it, the shot glasses were stacked in a tower on the tray as Neil nursed his coke.

“You don’t drink.” Andrew turned to Neil after watching the others take to the dance floor, coming up on their high, dusting when they couldn’t be seen. “Why?”

“Hate the taste, mostly.” That would be the truth if ‘taste’ actually meant ‘feeling of being out of control of my body’. He shrugged at Andrew’s dissatisfaction with that answer.

“You come to university and you don’t drink?” Andrew scoffed. “Do you smoke?” Neil shook his head. He’d tried an edible by accident once in some cafe in Europe, and got so paranoid they had to move on that night. He swore he saw his dad staring in the windows in the red-light district, a blunt between his lips, a smile made of murder wrapped around it.

“Not for me.” Neil took a sip from the cold coke. “Hard to find when it’s not legal and I hate the cops. Takes too much effort to roll.” Neil lied, like he knew what he was talking about, but he just remembered watching people in the cities he went to, everywhere having their local stoners, the folks who sat in the parks without a care in the world.

“You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you won’t dust.” Andrew rattled off the options. “Is it molly you’d prefer?” And when Neil shook his head again: “Psychedelics? Benzos?”

“I’m just not interested.” Neil looked into his glass, focusing on the ice. If he kept looking at Andrew he felt like he would crack. “Don’t we get tested before games anyway? What’s the point?” Andrew didn’t answer before he heading back up the bar. Neil didn’t follow this time. When he came back, there was ten shot glasses on the table. Again, eight filled with an unnamed spirit that burned Neil’s nose and twisted his stomach. The other two were cola.

“I’d hate for the new boy to feel left out.” Aaron, Nicky and Kevin had arrived back to the table for their shots. Andrew handed Neil one of his glasses. Neil knocked it back when the others did. It was ordinary coke, no surprises, no weird tastes, no reason for Neil to believe Andrew would have given him a shot of alcohol instead. That was, until he clinked glasses with the others and swallowed the second shot in a quick movement. He felt the alcohol burn his throat. It warmed his chest, but the familiar feeling wasn’t what worried him. It was the taste of salt on his tongue when he hadn’t licked any before hand. He quickly excused himself from the table and left for the bathroom.

Andrew had drugged him. He didn’t know why, but all he knew was the crackers were already coursing through his veins with deadly adrenaline. He was sure his racing heart wasn’t helping. It didn’t help, either, when Nicky reached the stairs before he did, and pulled him in for a salty, dusty kiss. Neil pushed him off as discreetly as he could.

“Nothing?” Nicky complained as he Neil bounced up the sticky stairs two steps at a time. Neil was sure he heard him say something about Neil being too hot to be straight, but the roaring anxiety in his ears was enough to drown it out. He locked himself in a stall and tried to best to throw up. He hadn’t eaten before he’d left, and he hadn’t drank anything other than he soda, so his attempts were fairly futile. A knock at the door interrupted him, and when he answered with a quick ‘occupied!’ He heard the door unlocking from the outside. Andrew pushed his way into the cramped stall and shut the door behind him. Before Neil could even begin to object Andrew had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall, Neil struggling to keep his balance with the toilet in the way.

“You don’t like the taste of alcohol or you’re afraid of losing control? Telling your truths?” Andrew’s drug induced smile had returned with mischief and malice. “Let’s see how this does!” His voice was low as he spoke, with an enthusiasm to his words that made Neil sweat. When he went to protest, Andrew covered his mouth with his free hand.

“Shut up,” He clicked his tongue. “You have spent your entire extended stay here lying to me and lying to poor, gullible Coach. I see the way you look at Kevin, too. Either you’re lying about not swinging or there’s something deeper to that intimidation.” Neil tried to get out a ‘I don’t swing.’ Before Andrew shushed him again. “Don’t keep lying, newbie! One last chance at honesty.” He lifted his hand no more than an inch from Neil’s mouth. Neil was sweating, his hands shaky, his mind turning into fog, desperate to cling to any sort of euphoria it could find. When it’s search came up empty, it filled his stomach, his head, his hands, his feet, with anxious buzzing instead. He couldn’t ignore the nauseating feelings the drugs brought with them.

“I don’t swing,” Neil stood his ground. “I don’t.” Andrew brought his hand up to Neils hair and yanked him down to his level, hard. He kept an inescapable grip in his curls as their faces almost touched.

“Still don’t know?” Andrew pouted in fake-pity. “Ten years later and you still don’t know?” Neil’s stomach would’ve fallen from his body if it’s got the chance. His heart would’ve went with it when Andrew continued. “There better be a good reason for Neil existing, Stefan, and I can’t wait to hear it.”

“What?” He tried, but it was no use. His voice failed him, cracking as the futile attempts at lying left his lips. “I don’t know what-“

“Shut up.” Andrew repeated. His grip not relaxing. Neil was worried he was pulling his hair from the root, but that was probably the least of his worries. Probably. “Do not lie to me again.” Neil searched his eyes for a sliver of doubt. A tiny, tiny possibility that he might think he was wrong. It wasn’t there. He’d been caught.

“Andrew.” He wrapped his hands around Andrew’s wrist, the one hovering over his head, muscles tense from the grip on his head. “Can we talk without ripping my fucking hair out?”

Before Neil could react, Andrew had let go of his hair, but in doing so, had swung his head with full force into the side walls of the stall. His balance finally failed him, but Andrew caught him by the neck of the black turtleneck he’d been gifted. He heard a few stitches pop, but it didn’t matter. The sudden movements turned Neil’s stomach with a violent wave, and he gagged hard, his stomach threatening to come out his mouth. He leaned over to spit into the toilet and bared his teeth at Andrew, breathing heavily through them.

“So he lives,” Andrew smiled, his pupils blown, a white-knuckled hold on Stefan-Neil’s collar. Neil was afraid he was going to pass out. His body was on fire, his mind screaming like an emergency broadcast alarm. “Tell me you didn’t know, oh humour me! I’d hate to think you’re stupid enough to come here still in possession of the memory from there.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Neil didn’t break eye contact.

“So you ARE that stupid!” Andrew pushed him back, letting go of his top. Neil tried to assess his escape routes, but it was no use. He couldn’t get out of this. “I remembered little Stefan the second Kevin showed me your file. I didn’t think it would be you, surely it couldn’t be, but our little visit to fuckport, Arizona couldn’t lie to me like you did. So is it Neil, or is it Stefan?”

“Neither.” He spat out the honesty, worried if he waited, another lie would take it’s place. “But you can call me Neil.”

“Oh, no, no!” Andrew grabbed him by the neck, holding his jaw in a way that could become a choke very quickly. “Maybe I’ll stick with Stefan. You don’t get a say. You know, I thought mommy killed you.” A knife twisted in Neil’s gut.

“She’s dead.” Neil tried to breath through his unwanted come-up. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Because she wasn’t alive to stop me.”

“Did you do it?” He held Neils face like the world would end if he let go. He held even tighter when Neil tried to pull away.

“No.” That was all he said. He thought about continuing, considering the fact he was a dead man already. But he stopped himself. How could he say it was his dad without saying he was the mafias right-hand-murderer? Was he wasting his time lying?

“Didn’t think you did.” Andrew laughed, barely even blinking as he intimidated Neil. “No balls then, no balls now.”

“I was twelve.” He spat through crushed cheeks. “We were kids.”

“Old enough to be a liar.” Andrew let go of Neil’s face with a forceful push and turned to open the stall door. “You’re going to lead us outside. If you deviate or try to run I’ll kill you. I will kill you.” So Neil did just that. He led the way in silence, down the stairs and towards the exit. When Nicky stopped and excitedly asked where they were going, Neil looked back to Andrew who waved his pack of cigarettes, a smile on his face, no essence of a lie present. Neil just kept walking, kept his head down, and tried to ignore the pain on the side of his head. When they reached the outside of the club, the brisk air biting their exposed skin, Neil turned to the first man he saw, a club-goer at the top of the queue, and swung a punch up. Andrew noticed the second his hands left his sides, balled up with a plan. The man threw a hefty punch back, shouting intimidations, knocking Neil’s short frame to the ground. As quick as humanly possible, Andrew had hoisted him up, wrapped his arms around his back and twisted his wrist in such a way that a single jolt would break it. He held him in that position with one hand, putting all his strength into keeping Neil still.

“He gets crazy on tequila!” Andrew laughed, shaking his head as he took out his wallet and pulled out a fifty note. He threw it at the guy as compensation, his friends holding him back from beating Neil’s vulnerable, ballsy ass. He continued yelling as Andrew hauled him away. He grunted in pain as he refused to loosen his grip on Neil’s wrists. He walked him around the back of the club, to an empty, barely lit parking lot. He threw him to the ground so quickly he didn’t have time to stop his fall.

“Every moment I spend around you, you prove you’re much fucking dumber than I thought.” Andrew spat down, then crouching down to Neil’s level, balancing on the tops of his feet. Neil cradled his head, arms wrapped around the nape of his neck. He was sure he had a concussion. He could barely open his eyes through the pulsing blood rushing through his head, but forced himself to, to look up at Andrew’s smiling face.

“What happened?” Spit dripped down his chin, blood slowly trickling from the busted lip he’d earned himself. “What happened to that Andrew?” Andrew froze for half a second, and Neil noticed. “The Andrew who cried because he was gay? The kid who actually fucking cared about anything?”

“Oh, you are treading thin fucking ice for someone who doesn’t know how to swim.” Andrew tilted his head. “Mention another precious memory and I won’t hesitate to actually break your wrist next time.”

“Why?” He spat blood at Andrew’s feet. “Afraid somebody might remember what you’re actually like when you’re not pretending to be a sociopath?” Andrew opened his mouth at the challenge, a smile creeping up one side of his face. “Are you afraid to actually have someone around you know anything about you? I’m a threat. That’s all you care about.” He continued. “What, do you think I’ll use it against you? You’ve been treating me like shit since we met. If I was going to stab you in the back I’d have done it already, asshole.”

“Since we met, again.” He corrected the most irrelevant part of Neils sentiment.

“Let me go now and I’ll move on. You won’t ever see me again.” Neil bargained. Andrew’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. “This time I’ll get a chance to say goodbye.”

“No,” Andrew stopped him. “You don’t get to arrive in to my life like a tornado and disappear. You don’t get to dig your own grave and push me into it.” He bent down to get closer to Neils shaking face. “You’re going to tell me exactly what happened first. Tell me what she did to you.”

“No.” Neil strained. “I moved on. You were dangerous. You almost got me killed.”

“Boohoo, do you hear my tiny violin, liar?” Andrew grabbed a hold of his hair again. Neil let out a cry of pain, trying to pry Andrew’s fingers from his scalp. “Talk. Talk or I will get you killed.”

“My father is a very dangerous man. He’s murdered more people than there are days in a year.” Neil wiped the blood from his lips. It stung as he did so, but it didn’t matter. He took out a small stack of IDs from his wallet and threw them across to Andrew. For a second, anyone would’ve thought they were real, but closer inspection killed that thought. Andrew was holding a driver’s license belonging to Chris Angle, 21, from New York. A European passport card signed by George Debois from Paris. A gym membership from Seattle, an employee pass from Toronto, two more drivers licenses from cities across the globe. All the names were different, but they didn’t belong to different people. They all had pictures of Neil on them. Some he had long hair, short hair, an unfortunate buzz-cut. He wore a beard in some, the baby face of a teenager in others. “You aren’t the only one I’ve lied to. Don’t think you’re special.” Andrew snapped the IDs with angry force. Neil took a deep breath, knowing the last memories of his mother were buried in the face of Christopher Hart, snapped in half, just like that. He continued searching through his wallet. Deep into the card pockets of the tattered leather. He didn’t look up when he heard Andrew drop the scraps of his identities on the ground. Neil found what he was looking for and threw it again, across the space separating them, it clattering by his feet. “If my mom found that she’d have killed me herself. We ran so she could protect me. I made that so much harder on her by meeting you.” Andrew inspected the card he’d been thrown. An under-eye twitch and a slow inhale accompanied his realisation. “You want to hate me for what she made me do, fine, but it was inevitable. You were never going to be the reason that made us stay.”

Neil had given Andrew something he couldn’t bare to part with. His old wallet stayed buried deep, deep in his belongings, so well hidden his mother hadn’t even known it existed. He usually kept his current IDs on his person, and never in a wallet. It was a ticking time bomb, but Neil needed something. He needed a reason to feel, and if that was the memory of the good day his mom had had when they finally showered after weeks of baby wipes and deodorant, it was something to hold on to. Neil had to stay grounded in some sort of reality. He was on the run, sure, but the people he met, the things he’d done? They were real. It hurt to see those memories snapped on the ground like trash, but Andrew didn’t snap the memory he held in his hands.

Andrew held the library card of Stefan Montgomery. It had a faded black and white photo on it, scratched out with time. He had begged the librarian to let him have the card without taking a picture, but she had insisted it was necessary so people didn’t have more than one. In the photo was a scared little boy, a gash on his cheek, with crispy curls and a skinny face. Neil remembered walking to the library when he couldn’t find Andrew, taking out books to help him learn any of the languages he needed to know. The library in Oakland taught him about the history of Spain, and the culture in France. There was something about Stefan that Neil didn’t want to forget. He’d kept that library card safe as if it were a lifeline, like he knew it would come in handy some day.

And then Andrew threw it across the empty parking lot like a frisbee.

“She didn’t see anything.” Neil tried, as if it would help. “We left because I made a friend. Not because… you know.”

“I was not your friend.” Andrew stood up and put a cigarette between his teeth. He lit it, one puff, two puff, three puffs until it burned red. “I was never your friend.”

“You were.” Neil struggled to stand up and join him. “Don’t lie to a liar.”

“You remember it wrong!” He took a short drag and flicked ash as he spoke. “You were a toy to play with when there was nothing else to do.”

“You could’ve went home.” Neil took the cigarette from Andrew’s fingers. “But hey, I wasn’t the only one who needed to escape heavy hands, right?” He pulled the smoke into his lungs and breathed out before flicking the barely smoked cigarette away. “You were my friend. You had Stefan killed because I cared about you when Stefan wasn’t supposed to care about anybody.”

“Be quiet.” Andrew pulled another cigarette from the packet and squared up to Neil who was standing so close he could feel Andrew’s breath hot on his face. “You didn’t care.”

“Are you listening?” Neil spat again, the heat of the cigarette having hurt his cracked lips. “We left because of you. Because I let you in, and I’m sorry you were collateral damage in our war against the world but fuck, we didn’t have a choice. Do you think I wanted to leave? I was going to leave you a note, but she wouldn’t leave my side until we were in another city and Stefan was just another name in the pile. Fuck you if you don’t want to believe that. I don’t owe you an explanation but you’ve got one anyway. Tell me to leave and I’ll go. Tell me you understand and I’ll go, Andrew.”

“I waited for you.” Andrew exhaled honestly through cigarette smoke. “Every day! The fourth day I tried knocking on the door of your motel room. Fifth day a random couple opened the door and I knew you weren’t coming back. Why should I give you another chance, hmm? When you so easily could run away before, who’s to say you won’t do it again?”

“I’m not asking for another chance,” Neil head was pounding. He felt like he could pass out, his ears ringing and body jittery. “I don’t know, maybe I’m asking you to remember what I meant to you.” Andrew pursed his lips at that. He was struggling to keep his composure, like the memory of before was chipping away slowly at this version of Andrew. He was holding himself together with twitches and small fidgets.

“I hate you.” He said, coldly. He had lit his cigarette and smoked through half of it before speaking again. Neil just stood, suddenly thinking about if Kevin were to find the IDs scattered on the floor. He didn’t even think he could lie to Nicky about that. He would pick them up in a moment, but he couldn’t afford to lose Andrew’s interest in the conversation. If Neil got distracted now he could ruin every chance he possible had at reconciling some sort of relationship with Andrew.

“I hate what the world has turned you into.” Andrew snorted a laugh at Neil’s dramatics.

“Oh, you are a pipe bomb.” Andrew started to walk away, but when Neil grabbed his arm to stop him, in a quicker movement he had twisted Neil’s arm in some sort of self defence move that hurt. “You don’t have a right to touch me anymore. Keep your lying hands to yourself or I’ll break every one of your fingers.” He didn’t let go immediately.

“Do you miss it?” Neil searched Andrew’s eyes for something, anything. “Being vulnerable? Being comforted instead of being alone, blaming the world for your problems?” Before Neil could even think to keep going, Andrew had used his free hand to manoeuvre a knife from his arm bands and hold it up to Neil’s face.

“I dare you to keep pushing.” His words were casual, but a threat nonetheless. “Stop trying to control a life you left. I won’t be a scratching post for your mommy issues, runaway.”

“What did Jakub do to you?” Neil brought a memory out from the depths. As soon as the name left his lips, Andrew’s entire body hardened and his eyes turned to glass. He slashed a cut into Neil’s cheekbone without hesitation and proceeded to let go of his arm and jam a thumb into the fresh wound. “Why did you spend your childhood alone in a playground?” Neil spoke through gritted teeth.

“If you want to keep your fantasy alive I advise you to really shut up now.” Andrew pushed him backwards, a final squeeze in the gash as he did so. Even more blood dripped down his face. Andrew wiped his hands in his pants and picked up the ignored cigarette he’d dropped in the altercation. “You are going in circles. This is your last warning.”

“My mom nearly broke half the bones in my body trying to get rid of the memory of you.” Neil took his spot back up so close to Andrews face he could practically see every one of the pores in his face. He still had freckles scattered across his face, his skin soft, with faint acne scars here and there across his cheeks. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You should have.” Andrew threw his cigarette at Neil. “Make your choice. Run like you’re used to.” He looked him up and down one more time and turned on his feet back towards the club. Neil didn’t follow. He started to pick up the remnants of his past and he felt his nose ache in psychosomatic pain, remembering a nose-breaking punch his mother threw when Neil dared asked if they could stay. He spat again, still trying to get the salty taste out of his mouth. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the shards of plastic evidence of who he used to. After picking them all up he had to stop, and sit down. He was afraid he was having a panic attack, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drugs still ravishing his system, or if it was because of Andrew. Maybe it was both. It probably was. He didn’t think he could’ve spoken the truth if he wasn’t high, but God, if he were sober it would’ve been so much easier to run. High Neil was emotional Neil, empathetic Neil, hurt Neil. He’d only had the experience of being really, genuinely high a few times, and every single time just reminded him how much he hated the feeling of being out of control. Of his nerves, his feelings, every fibre in his being misfiring and doing the opposite to what he wanted. His brain was begging him to feel the chemicals it was pumping out, but all it did was amplifying the aching feeling in his chest. He let out a noise that didn’t quite resemble a cry, or a sigh, or a grunt. It was a noise born from pain, a mixture of anxiety and heartbreak, maybe. He wasn’t sure what that felt like. Maybe this was it.

He tried to steady his breath and he stumbled across the empty lot. The booming bass from the music at Eden’s practically shook the ground as he walked, at least, it sure felt like it did. He stumbled as he reached down to pick up the library card so carelessly thrown away. It hurt him even more looking at Stefan, feeling this pang in his stomach that wished things could’ve been different. He didn’t think he liked Andrew like that, and being on the same team was just the destruction of a childhood crush. Neil tried to come up with excuses in his head to how Andrew felt, but it was obvious he had thrown Stefan into the bad memories pile a long, long time ago. Neil showing up again just ripped through Andrew’s closure, and knowing he had feelings beneath what he showed, he was probably hurting too. It didn’t seem like it, but maybe he was. Neil had put the ID away, and looked around. He had no real idea where he was, or how to get home. Before he knew it, he was sprinting away from the club, going nowhere, going anywhere but there. His head wasn’t in a place to decide that he should stay. He’s worth it. His heart raced at the thought of Andrew’s face, looking down at the long unused library card. He’s worth it. Neil couldn’t look back. He was wondering what Andrew was telling the others, and if they would believe him. He wondered if he’d told Nicky about Neil’s Idontknow sexuality, and that’s why Nicky thought it okay to kiss him. But he didn’t feel anything with Nicky. He didn’t look at anyone in the way he looked at Andrew. He ran and ran and ran until he’d sweat out the drugs, until his head was more focused on trying to breathe than it was on Andrew, and his mom. It took a while, and he was lost when he stopped. Unfamiliar streets, him a stranger in someone else’s hometown. Maybe that made things worse. This feeling was too familiar. Lost, lost, lost. Sometimes lost became familiar, became home. He didn’t think he could be un-lost again.

Part 3

#this is about older andy n Neil #so pls send an ask if u want more of them when they were young #cos I love Stefan + Andrew #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #andreil hc #just want ppl to read this bc I’m really happy with it :(

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zodiyack · 5 years ago

Text

True Colors

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: Neil abusing Billy, vulnerable!Billy, soft!Billy, fluff, sexual references because we’re describing Billy here, swearing, lyrics

Song: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper (Cover Version by Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake)

Note: I don’t know if this has already been done, but I think of Billy when I hear this, so let’s go. | Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

You with the sad eyes. Don't be discouraged. Oh I realize, It's hard to take courage. In a world full of people, You can lose sight of it all. The darkness inside you, Can make you feel so small

Neil grunted, throwing Billy into the wall. Susan held her hands over Max’s eyes, protecting her from seeing her stepbrother and stepfather fight. Max knew it was happening, she knew what it sounded like. What it looked like. She’d seen a tear escape Billy’s eye after one before. Unfortunately, Billy bullied her for knowing what happened. He thought she pitted him. He thought she thought he was weak just like his dad did. And for Susan...well she didn’t do anything but watch with fear. She didn’t step in like a mother would. It made Billy agitated. His mother would’ve stopped Neil.

His head hit his pillow and his eyes closed. Trying ever so hard to forget about the words his father spoke. Failing to free his mind from the insults and swears that poured out of his father’s mouth, he growled and turned over. His eyes opened and he decided to think of something else. California. His mother. Anything. He felt so weak. Just as weak as his father claimed he was. Tears escaped Billy’s eyes at the thought of everyone finding out his fears and insecurities. Would his mother find him weak? Of course she wouldn’t...but Billy didn’t know that.

Tommy and Carol were pretty much cackling after Billy shoved a freshman into a locker. He was mad, taking his anger out on another human being just like his father did. He wanted to prove to everyone that he wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t the pussy his dad accused him of being. No matter what happened or what he did, Billy still felt weak. The girls he brought home praised him, and he loved it. People at school brought his confidence back up when they cheered him on in fights. So, Billy did what Billy did best. He slept with random girls and brawled at school. Even if Neil broke his self esteem all over again, it was the only way he would get it the attention he wanted.

Show me a smile then, Don't be unhappy. Can't remember when, I last saw you laughing. This world makes you crazy, And you've taken all you can bear. Just, call me up, 'Cause I will always be there

There was one person that Billy could practically milk compliments from was his true best friend. Y/n L/n. She was always there for him in fights, awaiting his command or permission to join in. They shared laughs, hugs, happy tears while watching cheesy movies, and good memories. Even so, he never noticed it when she would avoid him every time where was a girl by his side.

To be completely honest; no one noticed. She was basically invisible to everyone except for him. It wasn’t her fault, she really did try to make friends and get noticed by humanity. Billy only originally realized she existed because no one else did. What he didn’t know, was that the day that he started talking to her was the day her life officially started.

Bumping into people and stumbling over her own feet, y/n raced to get to class. She was five minutes late, she didn’t actually care- but her family did. It was crowded in the halls, as per usual, and that meant it would take longer to get to her class. ‘Why not ditch at this point.’ She agreed with her thoughts and sat down against the nearest wall, closing her eyes and drifting into wherever her imagination took her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing by herself?” Y/n’s head snapped to where the voice came from. A handsome blonde teen leaned against the opposite wall. He had a curly mullet, and his tight denim jeans were hugging his legs. Her eyes traveled up his body, glancing at his unbuttoned shirt, then at his half smirk.

“Me?” There was no possible way a man that gorgeous was talking to her. Y/n denied the very thought. No one talked to her. Not even Nancy, who everyone thought was an angel and a nice girl. His nod went against her theory, making her furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head. “Why? No one does.”

“Well why would that happen? Did you scare ‘em or somethin’?”

She shook her head and looked down, sighing. “No. I’m just unnoticed here. The teachers don’t even know who I am half the time.”

“Well, I’ll be the first person to notice you. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“I know... I’m Y/n L/n.” The bell rang and startled Y/n. Billy chuckled and walked over to the young girl.

“See you around, Y/n L/n.”

And he did. After many days of getting to know each other, she approached him with the sweets she made in home ec. He didn’t know why, but it was different. No one really gave Billy Hargrove gifts. Why? He was Billy fucking Hargrove. Emphasis on the “fucking.” He didn’t do feelings. He did girls. He didn’t eat treats. He ate pussy. He didn’t accept gifts unless it was a girl’s virginity. So when the popular Hawkins King ate one of them and thanked her; it was a surprise for everyone.

She watched him fight. One day, she even threw a punch at a jock named Theo after he had given Billy a nasty cut. To say it amazed Billy would be an understatement. That shit was hot and the only people who witnessed it were Theo and Billy. Billy had a small crush on her for a bit. Alas, reality knocked on his door when he remembered that he only did girls and then left them. He couldn’t just do her and then continue being her best friend. He wasn’t that evil.

Little did he know, his point of not being evil wasn’t proved to Y/n. To her, it was so incredibly evil that he robbed her of being able to see an actual smile on his face, full of real joy and laughter. She knew the difference between fake and real happiness. All she wanted, was to see the genuine side of him. Not the Billy that could give a good fucking, not the Billy that would see his bloodied and bruised knuckles as his trophy, but the Billy that was somewhere deep down hidden under his many masks.

And I see your true colors, Shining through- I see your true colors, And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show; Your true colors, True colors are beautiful!

Billy clung to Y/n, crying into her shoulder as she rubbed his back. She didn’t know why he was crying, but she was there for him and she would always be. The friends didn’t move for a while. Even when it was almost midnight, they just sat there, Billy’s head resting on Y/n. She whispered soft positive things to him as she combed her fingers through his curls. It was nice, the two of them quiet, calm, and alone together.

You would probably guess that he did this often, seeing her reaction and how he would never cry in front of another person. But that, sadly, is nowhere near accurate. Even Y/n was surprised to see Billy knock at her door instead of her window, a small bruise on his cheek. She rushed him up to her room and took care of him. Neither of them had spoken a word since he showed up, the silence didn’t affect them though.

The teens never spoke about it. Billy showed up more and more, with bruises worse and worse. A normal best friend would ask what happened nonstop, but she was his best friend. And being his best friend meant that your relationship with him was not normal. It meant that you weren’t normal. It meant that you had a heart that could love someone like Billy Hargrove. And as a person with a heart like that, she took care of him and didn’t persist that he tell her what happened. She asked once and he told her he didn’t want to talk about it, so she stopped asking.

He appreciated the confidentiality she let him keep. Billy promised himself that one day, he’d prove himself not weak to her by telling her the truth of his life. He would let her see the true parts of him...when he was ready. And hopefully that was soon, because his hurt and suffering was affecting her. She loved him, and it brought her great pain to see the person she loved struggle.

The silence was soon broken by Billy. “Can I stay the night?”

Y/n winced at the sound of his voice being scratchy and full of sorrow. She was calm again after he sat up and grabbed her face with one hand, turning it towards his. “Of course, anytime Billy.”

I see your true colors, Shining through (true colors). I see your true colors; And that's why I love you. So don't be afraid, to let them show. Your true colors, True colors are beautiful! Like a rainbow, Ooh ooh ooh, like a rainbow

“Y/n?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

It was the day after Billy stayed the night for the first time. They didn’t move from their position after he put his head back on her shoulder, Billy waking up as the sun rose in the blue sky outside Y/n’s window. He looked around, panicking inside as this was not his room. His memories of the night before came flooding into his head, of the silent moment he shared with his best friend. Of the thoughts that he had while they sat in tranquility. Today was the day he’d tell her.

Y/n and Billy’s eyes closed. Whispers of goodnight were not made, instead, the two fell back onto the bed. The night was calm as the stars danced in the night sky. Though they were unconscious, Billy and Y/n’s hands inched towards each others, intertwining with smiles on their faces.

When he was fully awake, Billy didn’t wake Y/n up. Instead he watched her for a moment. She slept peacefully, cuddling the pillow that replaced Billy’s body. A small smile was on her face, making a genuine one appear on Billy’s. He left the room, letting her sleep. The boy couldn’t cook if his life depended on it, but he gave it his all, bringing a tray with her favorite breakfast on it.

“While we’re on the topic of food, I could go for some y/f/r (your favorite restaurant). I really love y/f/b, it’s amazing! Have you ever had it?” The h/c girl was beaming with excitement. On the other hand, Billy was staring at the girl in front of them. “Oh. You’re not even listening. Why am I not surprised.”

“Huh? Yeah we can go to...”

“Y/f/r. Billy you’re obviously distracted right now. Are you alright?”

“Yes Y/n. I’m absolutely fine. I’m sorry, let’s just go, okay?”

“Okay...”

Rubbing her arm, he said her name softly. Her eyes fluttered open, taking Billy’s breath away. She glanced over to the food tray, looking back up at him with confusion. “You..remembered?” He nodded and set the tray down, giving her a kiss on her forehead. “I thought you weren’t paying attention that day.”

“I was. I just didn’t completely register it until now. I didn’t register a lot of things until last night...” Y/n tilted her head at his words. She took a sip of y/f/d, waiting for him to continue. Sitting down, he did so, “Those bruises are..from my dad. I’m a shit person, and I know it. I just refuse to admit it. I think I’m weak..but what makes me weak is letting everyone tell me that I am so much that I end up believing it.” He inhaled, looking at her and grabbing her hand that was resting on her lap. “But you- you help me. You do all these things and I was too caught up in false pride to see them... I need to say something, promise me that our friendship won’t change if I say it?”

Y/n nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I promise.”

“I love you Y/n L/n. I have for the longest time, I just was too blind and too much of an asshole to realize it.”

Billy waited for her response. This silence had the opposite feeling of last night’s. He was about to give in, say it was a joke, until she finally spoke up. “You’re not an asshole Billy. you showed your true self to me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. You told me the truth, and that takes a lot of strength. I love both of those things about you. And I love you more than them.”

True Colors - Cyndi Lauper / Anna Kendrick & Justin Timberlake

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kar3npage · 5 years ago

Text

Next to You

Neil Josten works as a math professor and lives a comfortable life in a neighborhood that happens to house all of his closest friends. He meets Andrew Minyard, the owner of the quaint bookstore down the street, at a barbeque and makes the mistake of agreeing to go to his book club. Lots of Andrew being an obviously lovesick fool, Neil being oblivious, and their friends loving them unconditionally.

Read it on ao3 here

Neil Josten made his way down the quaint street that he somehow managed to get an apartment in. His wheelchair clicked loudly on the pavement, and he got a few sympathetic looks as he rolled past. He does his best to ignore it, though some days that’s easier said than done.

It’s been years since his father died at the hands of Stuart, and a bit more than a year since the rest of his father’s circle was finally caught and imprisoned. No matter how much time passes though, Nathan Wesninski left a lasting impact. The scars on his arms and face make sure that everyone knows that something horrific happened to the young man with red hair, and the wheelchair ensures that he is noticed in every situation.

“Hey buddy!” Matt is easy to find in the cafe they always meet at. To begin with, they always sit at the same table so that Neil can get there comfortably. Also, he is freakishly tall compared to most people, and the spiked hair adds to his height. “Dan sends her apologies. Emergency at work,” Matt says with a grimace and pushes forward the coffee that he ordered for Neil.

Matt and Neil have been best friends since they met in physical therapy when Matt got an injury while he was playing Exy in university. Neil was the first person Matt introduced Dan to when they started dating, and Neil was the one that Matt ran his business plan through when he first decided that he wanted to start a veterinary clinic. Matt was the one that Neil called when he got lonely in his empty apartment, and Matt was the one who forced Neil to get a cat. Neil couldn’t imagine a life without their weekly coffees or Christmas dinner with the Boyd-Wilds.

Matt is describing in minute detail the reason why Dan was not able to come to coffee today - something about one of the high school students she taught struggling with something and going to her for help. The pride Matt felt for his wife was undeniable, and Neil nodded along and let him ramble.

“Anyway, I almost forgot! Allison is putting together a party on Sunday and you have to come,” Matt says after a few minutes.

Neil gives Matt an unimpressed look. “First of all, what is the party even for? Second of all, you know I don’t like parties.”

“I know, I know, but Kevin’s back in town! Plus you got your PhD, we need to celebrate that!”

“I got my PhD two years ago, you’ve got to stop using that as an excuse to have a party.”

Matt grins unapologetically and stares at Neil until he finally says “Fine. But I’m leaving early.”

Before he knew it, Sunday evening was there and Neil was reluctantly making his way to the Boyd-Wilds house. On his lap was a loaf of sourdough bread that he stress baked that afternoon, and a list of conversation topics that he printed off the internet.

While waiting for someone to answer the doorbell, he stuffed the list of questions in his pocket and inspected the cars on the street. There were more people here than normal. Quite a few more. He could recognize Wymacks beat up old truck and Allison's pink convertible, and he was assuming that the rental car across the street was Kevins. There was also a red SUV that he hasn’t seen before, and a very fancy, very shining black car in the driveway.

Allison opened the door like she owned the place, and threw herself on Neils lap for a hug before he could protest.

“I know you were dawdling, your apartment is, like, a block away.”

“Well I can’t walk very fast,” Neil says to Allison while half-heartedly shoving her away. She flicks his nose.

“You can get everywhere faster than me, stop trying to make me feel bad for you,” she sings, then grabs the loaf of bread out of his hand and walks inside without a backwards glance. “Literally everyone got here before you did. Even the monsters.”

Neil comes in hesitantly. There is a great deal of noise coming out of the kitchen, and Neil can see even more people in the backyard through the hallway.

“So… who all came?” Neil says as he emerges into the tight kitchen where Allison disappeared to. There are a multitude of new faces in the kitchen who turn to face him, and he immediately regrets not coming up with an excuse to stay home. Not like any of them would have believed him, but an attempt could have been made.

“Allison, you didn’t say he was that attractive!” a tall man says from the corner. His arms are wrapped around an even taller blond man who smiles genially at Neil and coming forward to offer a hand.

“I’m Erik, and this is my husband Nicky,” the blond man says in a thick German accent.

Allison beams at Neil. “I told you he was cute. And he looks even better when he wears the clothes that I choose for him,” she says to Nicky, giving Neil a pointed look.

“Nicky’s the one doing Matt’s marketing for him now.” Renee’s calm voice comes from the corner, somewhere behind Nicky and Erik. “And he helped Allison with her branding when she started designing.”

Neil hums so they know he heard, then backs out of the kitchen to go to the back. He thinks that he should probably say something polite while he leaves, but Allison and Renee know how he is, and he feels like he’s getting in the way of all the people actually cooking in the kitchen.

The backyard has even more people in it, but it has more space so he doesn’t feel as claustrophobic.

“Neil!” Matt says from where he’s standing at the barbeque with Wymack, sounding like he had no idea that he was coming. Dan and Abby wave at him from their lawn chairs. Another woman is chatting with them, her arm around a short blond man. Kevin is standing near Wymack talking at another small blond man. Neil catalogs the two, checking for differences without thinking about it.

Now he really regrets being here. There isn’t a single group of people that he can talk to that he knows entirely, and everyone else seems to be so comfortable chatting. He briefly considers using Sir as an excuse, but he knows that Matt would insist on going home with him if he thought that there was something wrong with Sir.

“No ones going to bite,” Allison says from behind him, making him jump. He realizes that he is directly in front of the door.

“I should go,” Neil mumbles as Allison walks past him carrying a bowl of salad to the table near the grill. “Nope! You can’t, it's your PhD party!” Allison sings.

Kevin turns around and notices Neil in the doorway. He looks intense, which is just his version of excited.

Allison's announcement has caught everyone's attention and Neil can feel the weight of their eyes. He accidentally makes eye contact with the man who Kevin was talking with, and he shifts his attention quickly.

“It’s not a PhD party, that happened years ago.”

Dan grins. “You know that we’re going to call everything that so you feel obligated to come, right?”

“We just like having you here, Neil,” Renee says sweetly from beside him. Neil can feel his face heating up. “Have you met everyone yet?”

At the shake of his head, Renee introduces the new ones in the backyard. “Andrew is the one with Kevin, he owns the bookshop down the street from the cafe, and then over there is his twin Aaron, and Aaron's wife Katelyn. They work at the hospital together as surgeons.”

“The bookstore you go to all the time?” Neil asks. Andrew is wearing all black despite the summer heat, and his gaze is blank as he watches Kevin get worked up over whatever he’s talking about. Most likely Exy, since he’s been making an Exy podcast since he stopped playing in university.

Renee hums a confirmation. “Andrew and I have tea and cake at the bakery every Saturday. I supply treats to the book club he hosts,” Renee says with a smile. Her bakery is famous around the neighborhood for having the prettiest and most luxurious treats in the city. The woman who helps her run it, Betsy, makes Neil just as uncomfortable as Renee does. That combined with his dislike for sweets means that he very rarely ends up in the shop.

“He hosts a book club?” Neil says, staring hard at Andrew. He doesn’t know why his brain has latched onto the man like this, but he can’t help but be fascinated with how contradictory he seems to be. A man with bigger biceps than Matt who likes Renee's cake (and company) and runs a book club.

Renee smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yes, you should join us sometime. We’re reading Emma at the moment, in honour of the movie coming out.”

Neil narrows his eyes at Renee, but she doesn’t seem to be joking. He’s saved from the need to answer by Erik and Nicky coming out with more food and Wymack announcing that the burgers are done.

Andrews eyes keep sliding over to the redhead with a deer-in-headlights look as he completely blocks the door. Kevin has not shut up about Andrews' missed chance at going pro, and Andrew started blocking him out ages ago. Nearly as soon as Kevin started talking, actually.

Renee winks at him when she notices where his gaze is fixed and he glares at her. Her smile just grows as she finds a lawn chair near Allison. Wymack interrupts the staring contest by putting out the burgers and Andrew bullies his way into line at the table by the grill to fill his plate. Kevin has moved to the back of the line to talk to the redhead, who takes the attack surprisingly well. He makes eye contact with Andrew and gives him a ‘what can you do’ kind of shrug and smile while he nods along to Kevins rant. Andrew pretends he was never looking at them and loads his plate up with bread and potato salad.

“I invited Neil to book club, I hope you don’t mind,” Renee says to Andrew when he sits down in the empty chair beside her.

Allison leans forward to point her fork at Andrew. “I hope you know that I saw you ogling him.”

Andrew glares at her and Renee kicks her foot gently. “I think you and Neil would get along well,” Renee says.

“Who said I wanted to get to know him,” Andrew says while staring at a smirking Neil arguing with Kevin. Kevin’s face has gone an alarming shade of red and Wymack is watching them with a faintly fond expression on his face.

Allison snorts and turns to Katelyn to chat. Renee wisely changes the subject to her thoughts so far on Emma.

Opening the bookstore first thing in the morning is one of Andrews less hated chores. He likes the way the store smells, and the awed silence that it has before customers come in. Robin, his only employee, always takes the evening shift, so he has the whole morning to himself. He starts by setting up a new display in the front window, losing himself to the satisfying feeling of creating something.

The mornings are usually pretty quiet, since the neighborhood has a habit of waking up late whenever possible. The only other shop open is Renee’s bakery down the street, and Boyd’s vet clinic, which he walked past on his way from his place.

Bee drops by at lunch like she often does, with a mocha and a croissant. Bee is Renee’s business partner in the bakery, and responsible for the pastries. The two of them adopted Andrew into their social circle as soon as he became a regular at the bakery when he first opened the bookstore.

“Renee mentioned that we might have a new member of book club this month,” Bee says as she admires the new display. Andrew does not miss the sparkle in her eye, or the pleased smile that she tries to hide by taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

Andrew doesn’t answer.

“It will be nice to hear new opinions,” Bee muses. He can tell that she’s fishing for a reaction, so he places all of his attention on stacking the newly arrived copies of The Glass Hotel. When he turns around, Bee is watching his carefully.

“You know,” she says slowly, “it’s always a good thing to add to your social circle. Neil sounds nice. Matt always has good things to say about him.”

Andrew gives her a dirty look, which she easily ignores. “And he sounds like someone you would get along with. Allison told me that he has his PhD in some sort of math. And he has a cat.”

Andrew snorts. “So having a cat is supposed to make me overlook the fact that he’s interested in math.”

Bee laughs and gives Andrew a knowing look.

A week later, and Neil is starting to get restless at home. He appreciates that the university allows him to teach online classes, but sometimes too much time with only Sir as company makes Neil think weird thoughts. He decides to get a sandwich from the cafe, after dismissing the thought of bothering Matt at work. He knows that he could always call Allison, since she is the boss and can do whatever she wants (or so she says), but he’s in a melancholy mood and he knows that she would force him out of it. For some reason, he wants to just wallow for a minute.

The day is crisper than Neil thought that it would be, but it’s a good kick to his system. He peaks in the window of the clinic when he goes past, and he’s suddenly glad that he didn’t text Matt earlier. It would just make him worry, and it looks like he’ll be busy today.

At times like these, Neil can’t help but feel just a little bit like a chore for his friends. He can always hear the busyness behind Allison when he calls her during the day, and he knows that Matt drops nearly everything to make sure he’s okay. He could always call Wymack, but Wymack is busy trying to save every kid that he comes across at the clubs he runs. Abby is constantly telling him that he’s no bother, but she is also busy at her work as a physical therapist.

The melancholy back as strong as ever, Neil makes his way listlessly down the street. It’s a quiet day today, and all he has to do when he gets home is mark some tests, so he takes his time eating his sad looking sandwich.

It seemed like fate that the bookstore was directly across the street from the cafe. How had Neil never payed attention to that before now?

It’s as quaint as the rest of the stores on the street, but with a darker colour palette than the rest. The window boasts various beautiful copies of Jane Austen books with a poster with information about the book club. The clean design of the poster reminds him of Allisons, and he wonders if Nicky does the marketing for Andrew too.

Neil sits in the cafe for 45 minutes before working up with courage to check out the bookstore.

A small bell rings as he struggles over the cracked concrete at the entrance to get into the store. By the time he actually looks around, Andrew’s flat gaze is heavy on him. He can feel a flush rise up the back of his neck.

Neil clears his throat a few times and tries to pretend that he’s not fazed by the staring. “Renee mentioned that you had a book club?” he says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

Andrew keeps staring at him. “I think she said the book was Emma, but she didn’t say what day it was.”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Oh.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got something else to do that day?”

“No, I just won’t be able to read the book by then,” Neil says, and to his horror, he feels the flush move onto his cheeks. He looks at a random book in an attempt to hide it.

When he looks back at Andrew, he’s relaxed back into the chair behind the counter. “Most members don’t read the whole thing before the club gets together. Some of them haven’t even started it, they just come for the conversation.”

“Really?” Neil says. The shame at not being a fast reader is starting to fade. He can’t imagine Andrew lying just to make someone feel better, and he has a strange trust for the near stranger.

Andrew tosses a small paperback book to Neil, and Neil fumbles to catch it. It’s the edition of Emma with the movie cover. Andrew waves away Neils offer to pay when he gets to the counter.

“Book club discount,” Andrew says while fidgeting with his sleeves.

“That’s not a great business practice, giving away books for that many people every month.”

Andrew just shrugs.

Neil’s at home and has read the first chapter of the book before he remembers that he was sad.

“Was that Neil that I just saw leaving the bookstore?” Nicky asked far too enthusiastically as he came barreling into the store not two minutes after Andrews bizarre interaction with Neil finished.

“Nope,” Andrew says and puts his book in front of his face to block out Nicky.

“I love Neil! Is he going to hang out with us now?”

“Why would him coming to the store mean that he was going to hang out with us?”

“So it was him! Ha!”

Andrew rolled his eyes and turned the page despite not having read a single word on that page. When Nicky is silent for a few seconds, he puts the book down to look into his thrilled cousins face.

“I think it would be nice if he joined us for family dinner next month,” Nicky says brightly when he notices that he’s caught Andrews attention again.

“Why would he be invited to family dinner,” Andrew says flatly. He spends a moment putting all of his energy into ignoring the daydream of Neil being a part of the family. Andrew feels like a creep, having this weird little fascination with someone who he barely knows.

“Allison said that he doesn’t have any family. Isn’t that sad?” A hint of true sadness pokes through Nicky’s facade and Andrew is abruptly reminded that Nicky’s family is just him, Aaron, and Erik now. “Plus, he’s funny! Did you hear him sass Kevin at the barbeque? Even Aaron laughed!”

“Aaron didn’t laugh, he was coughing. But fine, I’ll invite him,” Andrew says with absolutely no plan to invite Neil.

“No, I don’t trust you to invite him. I will,” Nicky says firmly.

Andrew doesn’t sleep that night. After knowing that Neil will be at book club, and then at family dinner next month (now that Nicky has taken that into his own hands, Neil won’t have a choice but to come), Andrew is starting to feel the stress that usually only pops up after a particularly bad nightmare.

After much introspection, he realizes that it’s not seeing Neil that's causing the stress, but the way that everyone has been watching their interactions.

As soon as 4am hits, Andrew gets up and walks to the bakery. Sure enough, the light is on in the back and Bee’s yellow Mini Cooper is parked in the employee lot. Andrew knocks on the back door and tries not to make eye contact with Bee, who is wearing a knowing, empathetic look on her face.

Andrew settles at the table in the back and watches Bee work. The silence is soothing, and his muscles relax for the first time all night. After a while, she brings over some hot chocolate and sits down across from him.

“If you want me to get the others to lay off of you about Neil, Renee and I will tell them to stop,” Bee says gently.

“That’s not the problem,” Andrew says, his voice gravelly from disuse. They look at each other for a long moment, both waiting for Andrew to figure out what he means to say.

“Neil doesn’t know, and I feel dirty,” Andrew finally says dully.

Bee hums and takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Do you want to tell him?”

Andrew snorts. “I barely know him.”

“Well, I don’t think that you should feel dirty. And I’m sure he’s been teased by Allison by now, so you don’t have to worry about him not knowing what the others are saying.”

Andrew lets her words sink in, then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Bee smiles, and brings over a hot chocolate croissant after taking the batch from the oven.

“I don’t think that’s very good business practice,” Andrew tells her, as he takes a burning bite.

He doesn’t feel so conflicted when he opens the bookstore, and it ends up being a better day than he thought that it would be.

Neil is enjoying the book more than he thought he would, but he has had much less time to work on it than he planned. After spending most of his days marking, and helping a student over video conference, he was exhausted. And worried.

He could picture himself making a fool of himself at book club, and all of them realizing that he’s not nearly as smart as they all make him out to be.

“I’m sure it’s going to go great! Renee and Bee both love it, and Abby goes! Erik goes when he can, too,” Matt assures him over the phone while Neil tries to come up with an excuse just in case someone confronts him for not going.

“I’ve only read a few pages,” Neil says slowly.

“That's a few pages more than me! Plus, we both know you have a lot of thoughts about it,” Matt says with a grin in his voice. Neil wishes he hadn’t told Matt about the characters over coffee the other day.

Sir is purring delightedly on Neils chest. “I can’t go, Sir is on my lap,” he tries again.

Matt pauses, but Neil hears Dan in the background. “No! That’s not an excuse! Sir cuddles you all the time.”

Matt sighs into the phone. “She’s right, buddy. I think you’ll have fun. And they have free coffee and stuff. That’s always fun.”

20 minutes later, Neil is miserably locking his apartment door and officially on his way to book club.

The atmosphere is surprisingly warm and cozy in the book shop at 7pm. There’s soft music playing, and people are chatting in little groups. There are only a few people that Neil doesn’t recognize, and the circle of chairs taking up most of the floor looks comfortable. For some reason Neil was expecting this to feel more like a test.

Abby beams when she sees him hovering by the door and waves him over. Neil recognizes the woman she’s talking to as Katelyn.

“We were wondering if you would come,” Abby says warmly, knowing his history of wiggling his way out of social situations.

Katelyn smiles at him and sits on the closest chair so he doesn’t have to look up at her. Neil feels a bit grateful at that, and even more so when she offers him a cheese scone and a cup of coffee from the center table.

Katelyn launches into a story about a patient, and Erik works his way to their group.

“Neil,” he says quietly as a greeting, and Neil gives him a shy smile. “Nicky was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner in a few weeks. He’s promising to make enchiladas.”

Neil swears that his brain short circuits for a moment. “You want me over… for dinner?”

“Here, I’ll get your number and Nicky can text you the time and place,” Erik says, ignoring his shock.

Andrew comes out from the backroom with more coffee, and that seems to be a symbol of some kind for everyone to take their places.

“Okay, what did you think?” Andrew says bluntly, and that’s it. Everyone has opinions, some of them silly and some serious. Half of the group hasn’t finished the book, and Katelyn admits to not even starting it.

Andrew is having a light argument with Bee about whether Emma is a likeable main character with others popping in their two cents when Neil first says something.

“I thought she was kind of fun,” Neil mumbled. When he looks up, Andrew has an unreadable expression on his face.

“See, Bee? She’s fun,” he says in a monotone. Neil has to fight the smile threatening to show.

The meeting is chaotic and warm, and Neil learns a great deal about the people in the room. He learns that Erik is a huge fan of the worst Austen movies, and that Katelyn barely reads but always shows up to book club. He also learns that Andrew is incredibly passionate about the books, but that doesn’t surprise him as much as it probably should.

The only awkward moment is at the end when everyone starts to help put their chairs back in place. When Neil offers to help, the room goes quiet.

“Take this,” Andrew says gruffly and shoves the tray of mostly finished treats at him. Andrew takes the coffee cups and walks to the back, so Neil follows him.

The back room is nearly as cozy as the front of the shop, and a girl that Neil didn’t even know was there is grabbing her bag to leave. Her name tag says ‘Robin’, and Andrew says bye to her almost fondly.

Neil puts the tray on the table in the middle of the room and watches Andrew move efficiently through the cramped space. He has a million questions to ask Andrew, but he’s not sure how to, so he contents himself with analyzing the room.

“You have a question,” Andrew says without turning around.

“I have lots of questions,” Neil says.

Andrew finally turns around and leans on the counter. “I’ll answer if you let me ask you something.”

Neil winces. “If it’s about the scars, you don’t need to bribe me to answer them.”

“It was something else, actually.”

Neil fidgets with the wheels for a moment. “Fine, I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Andrew tosses his phone to Neil, and Neil feels a little thrill as he enters his number in. He texts himself so he can program the number into his phone. Matt’s going to be so proud to hear that he got two numbers today.

Andrew doesn’t say anything when he gets his phone back, just puts a tupperware container on the table so that Neil can pack up the leftover treats.

Before Neil leaves, Andrew says “Next months book is Atonement.”

Neil wakes up to four text messages. One is from Matt asking how the night went, one is from Erik warning him that he gave Nicky his number, one is emoji filled from Nicky, and the last one is from Andrew. It just says ‘You go first’.

Neil spends his whole morning messing up his marking because he’s thinking too hard about what his first question will be for Andrew. He gives up trying to work when Sir knocks over his coffee and nearly breaks his laptop.

Neil: What made you want to own a bookstore?

Andrews reply comes faster than Neil was expecting. He feels a little thrill when he hears the ping of his phone.

Andrew: Everything you could ask me, and that was your question?

Neil: You never said that there were topics that weren’t allowed.

Andrew: ...exactly

Neil startles when his phone starts ringing on the sofa beside him. Sir gives him a wide eyed look until he picks it up.

“I thought you were at work,” he says to Andrew.

“I would say the same thing about you, but I’m starting to doubt whether you actually have a job.”

“I do have a job,” Neil says smugly. “I’m a university professor. I teach online classes. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“There aren’t any customers in here, smartass,” Andrew says not unkindly. Neil smothers a smile. “So do you still persist in asking me why I wanted to own a bookstore?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t want to do anything,” Andrew says.

Neil stays quiet and waits for him to give him the rest of the answer.

“I like reading, and I don’t like libraries.”

“Okay,” Neil says. He feels strangely content on the phone. Normally he sucks on the phone, and forgets to answer. “Your turn.”

Andrew is quiet for a moment. “Why did you come to book club?”

“Matt told me I needed more friends, and he wouldn’t let me use Sir as an excuse not to go,” Neil says honestly. He’s found that ever since he became a real boy all those years ago, he has a hard time lying. It always leaves him feeling gross and wrong.

Andrew huffs on the other end of the phone. “You seem to have lots of friends.”

“That’s what I said. The argument wasn’t accepted.”

Sir meows at Neil until he arranges himself so she can sit on his lap.

“Is that your cat?” Andrew says, breaking a comfortable silence.

“You already asked your question,” Neil teases, tangling his hand in Sir’s fur. She starts her wheezing, loud purr and he can hear Andrew huff again.

“Tell your broken cat that she won’t make me look over your interest in math,” Andrew says.

“What?” Neil laughs. “Who told you I taught math?”

“You’ve caught everyone's attention. I can’t walk down the street without hearing a new fact about you,” Andrew says dryly. “Anyway, math is awful and a terrible subject to choose to study.”

“Math is interesting! It’s the only universal language!” Neil says, not nearly as upset about Andrews accusation as he normally would be. He’s halfway through a tangent on the wonders of math before he catches himself.

“Sorry,” Neil says sheepishly. “You’re probably not interested.”

“More than you would think,” Andrew says, sounding perturbed. “There’s a customer.”

Neil is surprised by the amount of disappointment he feels when the call stops.

It becomes a habit during the slow times in the day. Andrew calls Neil when he’s bored and finished putting away any new merchandise, or Neil will call Andrew when he’s tired of trying to understand his students confused writing. So far, Neil has learnt that Andrew was in juvie as a teen, and grew up in the foster care system. He learns that Nicky is their cousin and that he took surprisingly good care of Andrew and Aaron when they were angsty teens, and he learns that Andrew has always struggled with touch. He learns lighter things too, like how Andrews favourite movie is Baby Driver (but he will never admit that to anyone else because he has a reputation to uphold), and his favourite colour is blue.

Neil returns the favour but giving away as much information as he’s getting. During their eighth phone call he has a panic attack when he tells Andrew about his father, and how he came to be in a wheelchair. Andrew talks him through it calmly, and doesn’t give him any weird looks when he visits the bookstore two days later.

The month runs by much faster than Neil is used to, and he hasn’t called Matt in a lonely depression a single time. He feels oddly proud of himself for it.

When Nicky texts to remind him of the dinner that him and Erik are hosting, Neil is almost looking forward to it. He has heard from Nicky almost as much as Matt, and the texts have been just as enthusiastic.

He spends the afternoon before baking bread while he chats with Andrew. Andrew had practically forced him into accepting a ride in his ridiculous, fancy car, and has spent the entire afternoon giving him various warnings about Nicky and Aaron.

“Nicky will hug you,” Andrew says with a voice that sounds like he’s informing Neil of a death. “More than once. Erik’s not bad, but Nicky’s a hugger.”

Neil laughs while he kneads the bread. “It’s okay, Allison sits on my lap every time she sees me. People keep thinking we’re dating.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgement and continues with his warnings. “Aaron is judgy.”

“And you aren’t?” Neil says, thinking back to all of the customers that Andrew has thoroughly made fun of.

“He’s a different brand of judgy. Katelyn keeps it down for the most part, but he’s very rude,” Andrew says, like he doesn’t have any similar traits.

“How often do you all have dinner together?”

“A few times a year. Nicky insists on our family dinners.”

Neil pauses. “It’s a family dinner?”

The line goes quiet.

“Andrew? I can’t crash a family dinner,” Neil is starting to feel the root of panic in his chest.

“You wouldn’t be crashing it. Nicky and Erik invited you.”

“But he didn’t say it was for family,” Neil says nervously. Sir meows at him and jumps in his lap. He attempts to shove her off with his elbows so he doesn’t get flour on her.

“Neil,” Andrew says calmly. “I’m coming to get you in three hours. Sir is not an excuse to not come.”

“Fine.”

As promised, Andrew shows up at Neils door three hours later. His mouth goes dry when Neil opens the door. Neil has never put much effort into his appearance, so Andrew is definitely not ready for the button up shirt and styled hair. Neil's apartment smells like freshly baked bread, and the cat that he hears on the phone all the time is sitting comfortably on Neils lap, unconcerned with the fact that Neil is moving around the apartment and fidgeting while she does so.

The apartment is spare, with lots of space between furniture for Neil to move around. The kitchen counters a lower as well, and Neil navigates the room efficiently and quickly. He pushes off Sir with some reluctance, then grabs a loaf of bread and shoves it into Andrews hands so he can put on his jacket.

“You look nice,” Neil says nervously.

Andrew can feel his ears heat up. “You do too,” he says, though it comes out flat and uncaring. Neil beams anyway and leads the way out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Andrew finally says when they are both in the car and on their way. “Nicky would die for you.”

“Nicky barely knows me,” Neil says, looking baffled.

“It only takes him a few minutes to latch on to people. Look at me and Aaron. One glance and now he won’t let go.”

Neil smiles gently at him and goes back to fidgeting with his cuffs.

Andrew had never payed attention to the accessibility of places until he met Neil. He is extremely aware of how cracked and uneven the pavement is in front of Nicky’s, and all he can think about is how cramped the living room is.

Neil is looking at the pavement with trepidation. “Would you be able to help me, maybe…” Neil says quietly.

“Yes.”

Neil nods and pops open his wheelchair, moving into it with practiced ease. Andrew waits for him to get comfortable before standing behind him give the chair a push.

They make it safely to the front door, and as Nicky welcomes them in, Andrew notices that the furniture in the living room has been moved so there is more space. Erik notices him looking and smiles, offering a hand to Neil as they come inside.

Aaron and Katelyn are already there, sitting in the dining room. Katelyn greets Neil just like she had a book club and starts a conversation with him about their next book. He can see the relief written all over Neils expression.

When Andrew looks over at Aaron, he’s watching him and Neil with an inscrutable expression. Andrew offers the bread to Nicky, not bothering to say it was from Neil. They all know that Andrew has very little patience in the kitchen.

Dinner goes better than Andrew had hoped. No one questions Neil's place there, and he seems to have a good time talking to Erik in German. Andrew interjects every once in a while, and Nicky looks like he’s going to cry when Erik lights up when he realizes that Neil speaks his language fluently.

It’s not until dessert that Aaron opens his mouth to Neil.

“So what makes you so special?” Aaron says, fixing Neil a suspicious look.

Neil blinks, and pushes his plate of dessert to Andrew to finish.

“Umm…”

Katelyn elbows Aaron and gives him a significant look, and Nicky just looks tired.

“Normally only family gets invited to family dinner. And Andrew won’t even take the time out of his day to phone his own twin, so it’s kind of funny that you made your way in so easily.”

Neils expression shutters and Andrew pushes away the dessert.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says in his professional voice. “If I would have known that this was just for family, I would not have intruded.”

“Aaron, Erik and I invited him,” Nicky says with a look that Andrew hasn’t seen since they were teens and Erik was still in Germany.

“Neil, the bread you made was incredible. Do you bake often?” Katelyn says sweetly. Aaron catches her eye and they have a bit of a silent conversation while Neil stares at his plate.

“I just think it’s unusual that everyone loved him so quickly, that’s all,” Aaron says. The room, except Neil, seems to collectively understand what's happening at the same time. Aaron is upset that they took Neil in so quickly when he had to fight for Katelyn, and when Nicky had to fight for Erik.

“I think we’re done here,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil isn’t going to say anything else. Neil knows the rocky history between Aaron and Andrew, and he didn’t seem to get in between the two of them.

“Would you like to take home some of the pudding, Andrew?” Erik says sadly. Nicky looks like he’s valiantly fighting off tears, and Katelyn's face is nearly as stoney as Neils.

“No, we’re going to go,” Andrew says, and Neil follows him out of the house. Andrew waits at the door so he can help him over the pavement, and no one says a word until they are both settled in the car.

“I told you I shouldn’t have come to a family dinner,” Neil says quietly. Not in a blaming way, just sadly.

“That’s bullshit,” Andrew says. His hands are gripping the steering wheel with more force than completely necessary.

“It’s okay Andrew. I didn’t want to cause a fight.”

“You didn’t cause one.” Andrew stops at a stop sign and turns to look at Neil. “You didn’t cause one, it was already there.”

He waits for Neil to nod before he goes again. The rest of the trip is quiet.

The excitement doesn’t catch up with Andrew until a few days later. He thought that he was dealing fine with Aaron until he woke up and couldn’t get the energy to get out of bed.

It would be easy to be mad at himself. He has a habit of doing that. Bee and Renee always tell him that healing is just like that, two steps forward and one step back, but it’s easy to forget how devastating it is when the step back comes.

He closes his eyes for a few minutes and it’s already 9:30.

The minutes drag by slowly and too fast all at the same time. He’s too hot but there isn’t any energy to push off the blankets or open a window. He stares blankly at the ceiling and fights desperately for the memories not to overwhelm.

He isn’t sure what time it is when his phone rings. He lets it go, but it starts ringing again after.

He finally reaches over to answer, not saying anything once the call connects.

“Andrew?” Neil’s tentative voice says through the speakers. “I’m at the store and it’s still closed. I was worried.”

Andrew can hear the concern. He sighs and closes his eyes again.

“Do you want me to hang up?”

“No.” Andrews voice is gravelly.

“Okay,” Andrew can hear Neil's wheels against the pavement. “Do you want me to come over? You can say no.”

Andrew barely has to think it over. He doesn’t want Neil to see him like this, but he can’t get out of bed and he needs someone to open the window for him. He gives Neil his address and holds the phone to his ear while he waits. Neil doesn’t hang up.

When Neil gets there, he tells him where the spare key is, and the front door clicks open not long after.

“Andrew?” Neil's voice echoes through the quiet house.

“Hey,” Neil says when he gets to Andrews bedroom door. He doesn’t come inside, just talks from the hallway. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

Andrew turns to look blearily at him, and Neil leaves to look around in the kitchen. He comes back some time later with toast and a glass of water, and waits for permission to come into the room. He sits beside Andrews bed and starts reading Atonement out loud while Andrew eats, stopping every once in a while to make sure he stays hydrated.

Andrew doesn’t know how long they sit like that before his brain stop cycling and he’s able to look at the room clearly.

“You can stop,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil’s voice is starting to go from talking so much. “Here,” he says, handing Neil a blanket from his bed. The room is getting cold with the window open, but he doesn’t want it closed yet.

Neil leaves much later, once it’s already dark outside, and Andrew manages to get some real sleep that night.

“Seriously buddy, I can’t believe you didn’t just chew him out,” Matt is still going on over the phone about the failed dinner party from a week ago. Neil is updating one of his courses while Matt rants. “What a dick move. Although, now that I think about it…”

After the silence goes on for longer than necessary, Neil says “Go on.”

“It’s notoriously difficult to get an invite to a Minyard family dinner.”

“You’re acting like it’s the Met Gala.”

“Hey, you remember what the Met Gala is! And I’m serious. It took Katelyn, like, two years of dating Aaron before she was allowed to go. Andrew refuses to have extra people there.”

“I know, that’s why Aaron was mad. And stop talking about Andrew like he’s not being reasonable.”

Matt is quiet for a bit. “I just think that Andrew should have been more open minded to Katelyn, and I wish that Aaron hadn’t been rude to you.” “You don’t know the whole story.”

“I know,” Matt sighs. “Out of everyone in the whole world, why did you choose Andrew Minyard?” The question doesn’t sound judging, just genuinely curious.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never looked twice at anyone else. What is it about Andrew that caught your attention?”

“Andrew and I aren’t dating,” Neil says for the millionth time. Although, the more he thinks about it, the more Neil decides that maybe he would like that.

The usual suspects are at book club that Tuesday, all clutching their versions of Atonement. Some are filled with post-it notes and written all over, and others are in impeccable condition. Neil’s is somewhere in between. He didn’t manage to finish this one yet either, but he was pretty proud of himself for getting almost three quarters of the way through.

Erik and Katelyn come over to talk to him before anyone else. Neil can tell that it’s an apology of sorts, but he’s just glad that they don’t mention anything outright. He would rather pretend that nothing happened.

He waves at Andrew when he comes in, and Andrew gives him his coffee before putting the rest of the mugs down on the table. Katelyn winks at him for some reason at that.

The conversation is more somber for this book, but Neil enjoys it just as much, and he has much more to say now that he’s more comfortable with everyone. He also notices that there are more savoury options on the sweats tray.

Neil stays back to help clean the dishes in the back, and then stays after they’re all done. Bee smiles at Andrew before she leaves, and Erik promises to organize a movie night or something with them all, and then the shop is empty except for Neil and Andrew.

“I have a question,” Neil says before he can lose his nerve.

Andrew nods once and watches him intensely, like he always does.

“Are you… Would you-,” Neil tries to line up his thoughts into a sentence that doesn’t sound weird or embarrassing.

Andrew doesn’t say anything, just watches him fluster his way through his words.

“I would like to kiss you,” Neil finally says.

“That’s not a question,” Andrew says, and for the first time in months, Neil can’t quite read his expression.

“The question was implied,” Neil says nervously.

“If this is some sort of sexuality crisis, I don’t want to be your experiment.”

“This isn’t a sexuality crisis. I’ve never been interested in anyone like I am in you.”

Neil’s pretty sure that the shop has never been this silent before. “I’ll leave,” Neil finally says. He can feel a rock in his throat that makes him want to be in bed with Sir’s comforting warmth on his chest. He tries to not think of the fact that Andrew probably won’t call him tomorrow like he usually does.

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew says before Neil can get to the door. He raises an eyebrow after Neil turns around. “I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say yes either.” Andrew's face does something complicated. “Yes.”

Neil goes to Andrew, where he’s still sitting in the one armchair that he always chooses for book club.

“Yes?” Neil says when he’s right beside Andrew.

Andrew’s eyes are dark when he says, “yes.”

Andrew kisses as passionately as he argues about books, and Neils mind stops for a blissful moment. He can feel every inch of Andrews hand pulling him in by the back of his neck, feel the heat of Andrews body being so close.

He feels dazed when Andrew pulls away, and is pleased to see that Andrew looks nearly as ruffled as Neil feels.

“Would you like to go on a date?” Neil says.

“I thought you already asked your question,” Andrew says, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Technically the first one wasn’t actually a question.”

Andrew's mouth quirks up on one side.

Their date turns out to be a nice dinner at a park that Neil later admits was suggested by Allison. Andrew doesn’t mind, because he’s pretty sure that it would have been at the cafe if it was just up to Neil.

Andrew wishes everything was as easy as it was to start seeing Neil. Neil was practically incapable of keeping his emotions in around Andrew, and his bluntness made sure that miscommunication was avoided.

Aaron was a different story. All that Andrew wanted to do was ignore everyone else and let them figure out that Neil and Andrew were… something. Dating, he supposed. Unfortunately, Bee nearly forced him to talk it out with Aaron.

So here he is, holding his phone on a Saturday morning, waiting for his brother to pick it up.

He sighs when Aaron picks up, and is briefly tempted to just hang up and continue their relationship as it’s been for the past few years.

“Andrew?” Aaron says groggily. He sounds worried.

“Aaron.”

“Are you… dying or something?”

Andrew sighs again. “No. I wanted to talk.”

There’s a stunned silence, and then the sound of Aaron getting up and moving around.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “That’s… nice. Good. How is the store?”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

Andrew resists the urge to sigh again. “How is your job.”

“The hospital has been good. Busy, like always, but it’s been really good. Katelyn is working today, actually, so it’s just me home right now.”

The silence stretches like an elastic. Andrew wishes that he was talking to Neil, then blinks in surprise at his thoughts. He didn’t realize how much he actually enjoyed just talking to Neil.

“Is there something that you wanted to talk about in particular?” Aaron asks.

“I,” Andrew starts. It’s more difficult to get the words out than he thought it would be, but he squares his shoulders. “I am sorry that I didn’t like Katelyn. And Neil and I are together.”

“Oh. I mean, I knew you guys were dating.”

“No, you didn’t,” Andrew says, not bothering to explain that they didn’t start until recently. Aaron just huffs.

“Well, thank you,” Aaron says. “And… I’m sorry. About what I said to Josten.”

Andrew nods once, even though he knows that Aaron can’t see him.

“Erik invited us to that movie night. Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, already exhausted by this conversation.

“Okay. Well, see you then.”

“Yep,” Andrew says, then waits for Aaron to hang up.

Neil is stuck in that moment between sleep and waking, the feverish version of everyday life. He can see the soft grey of his bedroom wall, and the brick of the basement in Baltimore at the same time. Hear the whir of the ceiling fan and the giggles of Lola, smell the citrusy scent of his cleaning supplies and the metallic tang of blood.His legs ache in both realities.

As his mind clears, he realizes that the pain in his legs is likely what brought the past back so clearly. He stares hard at the white ceiling in an attempt to stop the thoughts spinning around his mind.

Tonight is movie night, he remembers.

It’s raining outside, the first rain for most of the summer and probably the reason for the constant discomfort in his tendons. He was hoping that he was past this, even though Abby was always warning him that there would always be times that this would happen. Long term pain couldn’t be avoided with that much damage, he would just have to have plans in place for when it hit.

Neil spends most of the morning trying very hard not to move, and not to think about his legs. It’s harder to distract himself when he doesn’t have anything to entertain himself. Sir seems thrilled with their extended lie-in, and he contents himself with watching her little belly move while she breathes.

The abrupt ringing of his phone startles him, sending sharp pains down to his feet. It takes eons for Neil to move enough that he can reach the phone. It’s already gone to voicemail by the time he’s caught his breath enough to look at who called. He calls Andrew back immediately.

“Nicky wants us to come by at 4 so we can have dinner and talk first,” Andrew says with vague disgust in his voice. It’s almost enough to make Neil smile. Unfortunately, he feels to guilty about the fact that he isn’t sure whether he’ll even make it to Nicky’s tonight.

“Hi,” he says to Andrew. “That’s usually how people start their conversations. With a greeting.”

Andrew snorts quietly. “Because you always follow societal conventions.”

Neils stifles a groan as he tries to sit up. He gives up in an awkward, half slumped position.

“Neil?” Andrew’s tone has changed and Neil realizes that Andrew had said something.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he says, strain evident in his voice.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Neil can hear how pathetic it sounds, and desperately hopes that Andrew doesn’t. He doesn’t want Andrew to see how high maintenance he is when they’ve only been dating for a little bit.

“Where are you?” Andrew sounds concerned, and Neils gut clenches a bit.

“I’m at home, I’m fine.” “I’m coming over.”

“No, you don’t need to. You’ll see me tonight, anyway.”

Neil can hear a murmured conversation, muffled by a hand. “Robins taking the desk, and I’m coming over.”

“Wait, Robin is there? What time is it?” Neil can feel the first sparks of anxiety.

“It’s almost 2,” Andrew says, panting slightly as he walks.

Neil thinks of all the things he was supposed to do today. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come to movie night,” Neil says, trying to quash the panicked note in his voice. “I have a lot to do today, I was supposed to have an online meeting at 10 and I totally forgot. And I need to record a few audio recordings to go with the notes for the last unit. And-”

“Neil,” Andrew waits until Neil stops rambling. “I’m at your door and I’m coming in, okay?”

Neil makes a noise of assent and clutches the phone to his ear until he hears Andrew walk in.

Andrews silhouette fills the doorway to Neils bedroom seconds later, and he becomes overly aware of how he looks, sagging on the bed with blankets strewn around him. Sir sits up sleepily and blinks at the intruder, then starts to have a very noisy bath. Neil gives Andrew a guilty look.

“What's wrong?” Andrew says, and his voice is so gentle that Neil has to blink away tears.

“I just slept in, thats all,” Neil says, like his bedroom doesn’t look like a murder scene. He thinks of the wheelchair, walker and other equipment sitting around his room. He’s trying to remember whether he put away all of the physical therapy equipment when Andrew sits down slowly on the edge of his bed.

“Are you sick?”

Neil sighs. “No, it’s the rain.”

A small wrinkle forms in between Andrews brows.

“My legs. The change in weather makes them hurt sometimes. Which is stupid, because the weather is always changing around here.” Neil tries to smile and fails miserably.

“What can I do?”

Neil blinks rapidly at the ceiling. He can hear Sir leave the room and feels irrationally abandoned by her.

“Have you eaten yet?” Andrew says, changing tactics. He leaves too when Neil shakes his head, and the lonely feeling reappears.

Both the cat and his boyfriend come back minutes later, the latter carrying a plate of food and a mug of tea with him. He also has pain pills in his hand.

“I was assuming that these would help, though I’m not sure how they were going to do that from the kitchen,” Andrew says.

“I have to have them with food.”

Andrew has managed to find one of the fancy trays that Allison bought him years ago and helps him prop himself up against the pillows before placing it down on his lap. There are fresh cut strawberries and bread with honey on his plate, and Neil stares at Andrew while he bustles around the room. He’s so focused on how his hair shines in the sunlight now streaming from his window that he almost doesn’t notice that Andrew’s cleaning the floor so that his wheelchair can move around easier.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew says, but the blush rising in his ears betrays his feelings.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Neil says.

“What do you do when you’re by yourself and this happens?”

Neil shrugs. “I lie in bed until I think that I can manage moving, and then I take the pills with crackers or something. And then I end up sleeping on the couch most of the day because the pills make me feel weird.”

Andrew thinks for a moment. “Do you need ice? Or a heating pad?”

“Ice would be nice,” Neil mumbles into his tea.

Andrew pauses in the doorway, looking oddly hesitant. He nods to himself before opening his mouth. “Do you ever resent being in the wheelchair?”

Neil considers the question for long enough that Andrew almost leaves without an answer. “I used to. I was really angry after it all, and it felt like I couldn’t do anything by myself. But once all of the bandages were off and Abby had taught me how to do everything, I was really glad for the wheelchair. It means that I can be independent and move around without as much pain as the walker. And there are some benefits,” Neil grins. “I can move around the apartment and still let Sir sit on my lap.”

Andrew turns around, but Neil catches the small smile on his face before he goes.

Half an hour later and Neil is swaddled in blankets, comfortably full, and sandwiched between Andrew and Sir while they watch a baking show that Andrew made him swear that he would never tell Nicky that he liked.

Matt and Dan have always tried to get Neil to call them over when this happened, and now he is starting to see why. He feels safe and almost comfortable, the pain down to a manageable level with the care that he has been given. He wonders what it would have been like if he had admitted to needing help years ago.

“How would you feel about inviting everyone here instead,” Andrew says suddenly, pushing Neil out of his head. “You don’t have to. We could reschedule movie night, Nicky would understand.”

“Aaron wouldn’t,” Neil says with something close to a pout.

Andrew’s lips twitch upward before he gets control of his expression. “Aaron would understand too.”

“I couldn’t feed them, though,” Neil says morosely. He had been looking forward to this, strangely. Maybe because this time his friends were invited too. It was sure to be loud and chaotic, but Neil thought that it would be nice for all of his favourite people to be in one room.

“Idiot,” Andrew says with too much fondness for it to be insulting. “Nicky and Matt will bring food. And Renee’s doing dessert.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew watches their friends and family get comfortable in Neil’s tiny living room. All of them are holding mismatched plates filled with food and have managed to move enough things around that they could all fit in front of the TV.

Neil is sitting beside him in the corner of the sectional, legs stretched out in front of him and a plate of fruit in his hands. He still looks pale and tired, but he keeps giving Andrew a brilliant smile and he belly laughed at a joke that Matt made, so Andrew has decided that offering to bring everyone to him was a good idea after all.

Matt and Dan have somehow contorted themselves so that they can fit on the armchair beside the couch, and Aaron and Katelyn are snuggled up on the other side of the couch. Aaron had even given Neil a respectful nod and a booklet of well-meaning advice on how to care for his legs when they arrived.

(Andrew had seen the way Neil tried not to laugh when he looked through the booklet, and how his muscles seemed to relax at the lack of a rude greeting from his brother)

Erik and Nicky were cuddled on Neil’s comforter on the floor, with Renee and Allison beside them. Kevin was leaned up against the armchair and cheerfully arguing with Aaron about what a proper diet looks like.

The movie had started half an hour ago, but most of them were talking over it while Nicky shushed everyone.

Andrew’s chest is holding an expanding warm feeling while he watches the mayhem, and when he turns to look at Neil, Neil’s expression mirrors the warmth.

When Neil falls asleep on his shoulder later while Sir kneads his lap, and his brother nods acceptance at him, he knows that this will be his future.

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gothpanda · 5 years ago

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A Little Bit of Attitude Chapter 2: I Was Only Half Joking

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

A/N: I forgot to mention in the first chapter. You can imagine either The Dirt guys or the real Motley Crue! any way Enjoy! Feel free to leave any comments! :3

Read on Ao3

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Sammi bounced into the breakroom running her fingers through her hair as she took off her scrunchie. “Since when did you hang out with Vince Neil?” Sammi jumped with a scare as she turned to see her friend Amanda sitting and eating lunch. “Since when did you know what Vince Neil looked like?” Sammi asked annoyingly punching out her job card turning to the straight-haired blonde.

“I asked you first. Please tell me you’re gonna be the next Lily?” Sammi scoffed grabbing her things from her employee locker. “No, I’m definitely not the next Lily. He’s friends with my brother Tommy since high school. They live together now I think.” Sammi swung her backpack onto one shoulder, “Again, how did you know that was Vince? Lily never said his full name.”.

“I know him because not that long ago Britney tried to get with him. It was pretty gross. I don’t know what anyone sees in him. Or his friends” Sammi rolled her eyes at her friend thinking of her brother. “You do know Tommy is one of Vince’s friends right?” “Still doesn’t make him appealing in any way. Besides I thought you and Tommy weren’t even that close. I always say stuff about him.” Amanda said as she started getting up. “Seriously though, just avoid him and you’ll be perfectly fine. If Tommy was such a good brother, he would keep you away from guys like Vince or that punk guy next to him.” Amanda gave Sammi a pat on the shoulder before walking out of the breakroom. “Yeah you’re probably right” Sammi mumbled grabbing all of her belongings and leaving for the day.

“Tommy, what does it mean when your sister wants to be called Samantha?” Nikki asked sipping on his soda as he sat on the edge of the indoor fountain in the center of the mall. “It means she hates you,” Vince said chewing on his straw as he eyed passing girls. Tommy rolled his eyes and kept turning to see if Sammi was actually going to come. “Man it’s been 30 minutes. I freaking knew she’d ditch us.” Tommy said with an annoyance throwing his empty soda cup at the trash can. “Cool it, T-Bone. She might be talking to her manager or somethin’ ” Nikki said moving towards the drummer holding him by the shoulder. Tommy turned to Nikki with a pout and sighed sitting back down on the fountain, “Sorry, man but Sammi bails on me every chance she gets. It’s nothing new for her to do it to us.” Tommy said waving his hands over his hand looking at his bandmates. Nikki huffed looking around hoping to find the redhead in the sea of teens.

Nikki didn’t get Sammi (or in his case Samantha) at all. From a first impression, she was nothing like the stories Tommy would say about his sisters. Tommy would talk about all the trouble they would all get into growing up from sneaking into closed-off baseball parks to riding dirt bikes at night. Athena was exactly how Tommy described her, a calm personality who liked being a performer like her brother. Sammi was just something completely different. “Tommy man, what did you seriously do to Sammi? I haven’t seen her since she was 15 and smiling at everything.” Vince asked looking over to Tommy who had his head turned towards the direction of Contempo Casual. “Dude I’m telling you it’s her freaking friends. Especially that Amanda chick she mentioned. Ever since I met them, I’ve always had a bad feeling about them, Athena too!” Tommy said jumping up when he finally spotted Sammi.

“You guys ready to go?” Sammi asked as she approached the misfits with the car keys in one hand. “Yeah but the hell took you so long?” Tommy asked attempting to take the keys from Sammi with an annoyance. Sammi yanked her arm away from her brother frowning up at him, “I’m fucking driving, Tommy. You don’t even have a license anymore remember?”. Tommy rolled his eyes snatching the keys up and tossing them to Nikki. “You’re right I don’t have a license, but I know that all three of us are a way better driver than you.” Tommy grinned as Sammi shot daggers at him then to Nikki. Nikki shrugged his shoulders to Sammi and spun the keys on fingers. “You know Samantha, it is a better idea if I drive so you don’t kill us,” Nikki said walking up to Sammi with his classic smirk plastered on his lips. “I wouldn’t kill anyone, you don’t even know how I drive!” Sammi said trying her best to wank the keys out of Nikki’s hands. Nikki stretched his arm above his head making it impossible for Sammi to grab. “Sorry sweetheart but you’re not gonna drive but you can still call the front seat,” Nikki said as Sammi rolled her eyes up to him. “Whatever let's go before I end up walking home,” Sammi mumbled turning around walking ahead leaving the guys behind.

As Sammi pushed through everyone, Vince caught up next to her being the only brave on to talk to her. “So Sammi, how’s life been to ya? Going to college is a real big deal!” Vince said stuffing his hands in his pockets with a happy smile. Sammi chuckled as she eyed Vince remembering what Ashley told her. “Life’s been good to me so far. Working to get some money for an apartment with my friends. Gonna start my second year of school already.” Sammi said turning to see if Nikki and Tommy were still following them. They both looked at Sammi and Vince perplexed on how they seemed to be getting along. “You trust that Nikki guy right?” Sammi whispered to Vince who scrunched his eyebrows at her. “Yeah, Nikki’s cool. He is like the brain of our new band. A whole lot better than my last band Rock Candy.” Sammi giggled at the name as she pushed the entrance door to the parking lot. “Rock Candy sounds like a strip club!” “Hey, it would’ve been a cool strip club though!” Vince laughed following Sammi’s lead. “Okay Nikki, you better drive carefully because this is my dad's car,” Sammi said leaning on a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala Super Sport that looked almost completely brand new. Nikki and Vince gawked at the beautiful car before Tommy interrupted their thoughts. “I still can’t believe dad let you have the freaking Impala,” Tommy said opening the car and jumping into the front seat. Sammi rolled her eyes sliding in the backseat with Vince next to her. Nikki slid into the front seat looking back at the shaggy blonde and redhead through the rearview mirror. Vince got comfortable in the backseat putting his arm on the seat behind Sammi. Vince scooted a bit closer to Sammi as Nikki started the car with an eye roll. “Buckle up kiddos because this is gonna be a bumpy ride!” Nikki said almost flooring the gas pedal completely.

Once rolling up to the Lee House, Sammi busted out of the car ready to yell. During the majority of the car ride, Nikki was speeding, making fast turns, and yelling at others through the window. Vince and Tommy were laughing the entire time while Sammi wanted yank Nikki by his hair to stop him. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Sammi yelled as Nikki got out of the car slamming it behind him. “What? I thought it would be fun to have a joy ride!” Nikki smirked at the redhead who was ready to push him to the ground. Sammi screeched with annoyance walking to the other side of the car. “You really think I would’ve killed you compared to that fucking porcupine?!” Sammi yelled at Tommy as he got out of the car. Tommy could only laugh along with Nikki putting his arm around him as they leaned on the hood of the car. “Oh come on Sammi! You have to admit it was fun!” Tommy chuckled. “No, it fucking it wasn’t! What if we got pulled over by a cop?” Sammi said looking over at Vince staying quiet. “Well, then we would just blame it on you, sweetheart!” Nikki said with a devilish smile. Sammi paused walking up to Nikki with a look of irritation. Nikki’s smile immediately fades once Sammi got closer to him making their chest hit together. Sammi looked up at the darkened haired bassist meeting eye to eye, faces so close their noses almost touched. Everyone was quiet for a moment scared of what Sammi was going to do. Tommy and Vince could only watch and hold their breaths. Tommy never saw Sammi get frustrated or angry with someone she just met. Vince knew Nikki could be an asshole a majority of the time to girls, but they would just run with it no questions asked. This was different for all three of the men. “Never call me sweetheart again. You understand me?” Sammi said looking straight into the hazel eyes and for a moment Tommy could’ve sworn he saw Nikki swallow nervously. Nikki only nodded and said nothing more. Sammi backed away yanking the keys out of Nikki’s hand before walking towards the front dark wooden door. “Only Vince gets to come inside, Tommy,” Sammi said as she unlocked the door walking inside the two-story home.

Nikki followed Sammi with his eyes, not being able to voice a word before she disappeared into the house. Vince went by Nikki and Tommy with wide eyes at what he just witnessed. Vince weakly chuckled turning his head to the door “Damn when I said she hated you, I was only half-joking.”. Nikki huffed at the blonde before turning to Tommy “T-Bone what the hell is wrong with your sister?”. Nikki wasn’t annoyed by Samantha stepping up to him but he was intrigued by what she was. Tommy just shrugged his shoulders looking at the ground a piece of his hair falling on his face. “We’ll be right back, Man,” Tommy patted Nikki on his shoulders peeling himself off the hood “Come on Vince let’s go before I’m banned from entered.”

Tommy closed the front door behind him as Vince slowly took in the open living room. “Damn still the same from the last time I was here,” Vince said as he looked at all of the photos on the fire mantel. As he was seeing the photos of Athena and Tommy he stopped to see a photo of Sammi when she was 6 years old. Vince fondly smiled as he saw Sammi smiling big with two missing teeth and wearing an oversized baseball cap. Her dark short curly hair poking underneath the hat. Before Vince could think of anything else, he was snapped out of his thoughts as Tommy handed him a soda. “I think you’re braver than me to go up to Sammi’s room,” Tommy said sipping on his orange soda. Vince scrunched his eyebrows together confused by what Tommy just said. “You sure Sammi is okay with me going to her room?” “Yeah, Man. You saw how she was out there. Just go upstairs, make it quick, and I’ll wait outside with Nikki.” Tommy said patting Vince on the back on getting out of the house. Vince rolled his eyes and made his way upstairs. At the end of the hall, you could hear blaring Jessie’s Girl through the white door. Vince nervously rubbed his hands on his pants just before knocking on the door. “Hey, Sammi. It’s Vince can I come in?” abruptly the music stopped only being able to hear the pitter-patter of footsteps come closer to the door. Sammi opened the door ajar for Vince to see a glimpse of her bedroom. He was only able to see a pale lilac color wall with polaroid photos hung up in four straight down columns. Sammi peered up at Vince leaning on the doorframe “I don’t can you?”. Vince rolled his eyes with a chuckle as he pushed the door completely open and walked in. “Look Sammi while I love to joke around, I gotta make it fast and get that stupid bedsheet.” Vince asserted before sitting on the white bed in the corner of the room. “Fine. stay here while I go get it from the laundry room.” Sammi replied walking out giving Vince the chance to fully look at the girl’s room. It was completely different compared to Tommy’s old bedroom. He had posters covering an entire wall and a mess of drum equipment smashed into a corner. He barely had proper bed sheets on his bed compared to Sammi. Sammi’s room was organized and showed her personality. On a desk in the corner by the window showed her high school volleyball photos of her teammates with her college textbooks stacked up next to it. All of her polaroids were either of her family or her friends. Vince got up when he noticed one of him with Sammi and Athena sitting in the old van.

“Found it!” Sammi yelled from down the hall. Sammi walked back in throwing the big sheet at Vince’s face. “Thanks and hey look,” Vince folded the sheet underneath his arm. “we’re a couple of nice guys. Nikki just doesn’t know how to talk… in general.” Sammi smiled at Vince’s attempt at fixing things. “Why don’t you come by the apartment tomorrow and see our practice? You haven’t met our guitarist yet and you’ll get to hang out Tommy!” Vince suggested as they walked down the stairs towards the door. Sammi opened it up for Vince and considered for a moment. “Alrighty, I’ll go. I don’t have work tomorrow so I’m free all day.” Vince beamed with excitement hugging Sammi. “Awesome! I’ll tell T-Bone to call you so you know where we live!” walking out Vince turned back waving goodbye with a big smile. “The fuck you smiling, Vince?” Nikki asked stepping on his cigarette butt. “I got the keys to the van, let’s get out of here, Man.”

As the boys piled into the van, Sammi closed the front door with a sweet smile on her lips.

#Motley Crue #Motley Crue Fanfic #The Dirt #the dirt fandom #the dirt fanfic #machine gun kelly #colson baker #douglas booth #daniel webber #iwan rheon #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #Netflix #A Little Bit of Attitude

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paralleljulieverse · 6 years ago

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This week marks the 60th anniversary of Julie Andrews’ wedding to first husband, Tony Walton in May 1959. Here in the Parallel Julieverse, we generally avoid discussing Julie’s private life as we believe it is…well…private. However, the vortex of media attention surrounding stars like Julie means that the divide between public and private isn’t always easy to discern, let alone respect. The torrent of studio PR, interviews, magazine profiles, biographies, gossip columns and candid exposes that saturate our celebrity-obsessed media push the personal lives of stars firmly into the public limelight and, by so doing, make off-screen knowledge as integral to a star's image or ‘persona’ as their on-screen roles and public performances (DeCordova 1990; Jerslev and Mortensen 2018).

Like most stars, Julie is no stranger to celebrity culture’s constitutive demand for “the public performance of private selves” (Dyer: 15). Even in her earliest years as a budding child star, she was subject to a probing media inquiry into her private family life. In her memoirs Julie recalls how, at age 12 after the opening night of Starlight Roof, members of the press, eager for a story about the new “prima donna in pigtails,” followed her home, taking photographs as she played in her bedroom and “bombarding me with questions” (Andrews: 80).

While this scrutiny of the private lives of stars is a common aspect of celebrity media at large, it assumes a particularly pronounced form in relation to female stars. Christine Geraghty (2000) observes that longstanding cultural associations “between women and the private sphere of relationships and domesticity” motivate a widespread, even obsessive, media concern with female stars’ off-screen domestic lives in a way that isn’t typically the case for their male counterparts (186). "Stories of love affairs, weddings and divorces” are the default register for pop media representations of female stars, Geraghty notes––a soap opera-like narrative economy that positions female stars as public figures whose cultural legibility, and possibly even value, is tethered to their private roles as wives, mothers, daughters, lovers (ibid).

It is in this context that we can situate Julie’s 1959 wedding to Tony Walton. Dubbed “the show business wedding of the year” (Marlborough and Court: 5), the event was accompanied by an almost frenzied degree of media attention, making headline news in the UK and reported widely via international news-services around the world. It was the culmination of a long gestating "soap opera” that had surrounded the pair’s relationship and been played out in regular instalments across the pages and columns of the Anglo-American celebrity press.

Throughout her all-important Broadway years as Julie made the transition to international stardom in, first, The Boy Friend and, then, My Fair Lady, media commentators were seemingly obsessed with her “off-stage” romantic liaisons. Interviewers routinely quizzed the star about her love life and gossip columnists linked her with a veritable revolving door of suitors, real or otherwise:

“A boy friend? Yes. Julie has one. He’s a twenty-four-year-old Canadian actor she met in England” (Crane, February 1955: 7)

“Julie Andrews, star of The Boy Friend has a new ditto: Dr Stanley Behrman, a young oral surgeon who treats the perils of such belles as Bette Davis and Bobo Rockfeller” (Kilgallen, March 1955: 16)

“The real Boy Friend in pretty Julie Andrews’ life is a TV actor in Toronto. He calls her from there almost every evening” (Kilgallen, April 1955: 30)

“Julie Andrews and Neil McCallum talking marriage” (Sullivan, November 1955: 27C)

By 1956, the young star was already complaining openly that, “People link you and unlink you. They tie you with this person and knot you up with the next one” (Freudenheim, 11-B).

Here it is worth recalling the extent to which Julie’s star image in this era was invested in one of the most resonant narratives of popular feminine romance and sentimental domesticity: Cinderella. As star of My Fair Lady, a particularly influential iteration of the Cinderella fable –– to say nothing of the whole framing narrative of rags-to-riches, Walton-on-Thames to New York, star-is-born mythology –– Julie emerged in the 1950s as what Maya Cantu (2015) calls “the decade’s Cinderella ideal” (162). And what is Cinderella without a Prince Charming?

Small surprise, then, that media tongues were set wagging and public hearts fluttering when Tony Walton, Julie’s childhood sweetheart from Walton-on-Thames, came to New York to visit the star during the early run of My Fair Lady in April 1956. Despite Julie’s protestations they were “just friends” (Freudenheim: 11B), the local press quickly cast the pair as leads in a romantic fairy tale: “Julie Andrews, the Fair Lady leading lady, and her betrothed, Tony Walton of London” (Winchell, April 1956: 4). What followed was a two-year saga of “on again-off again” romantic intrigue played out in the gossip pages:

“Julie Andrews and Tony Walton picking the date” (Sullivan, May 1956: 45)

“Julie Andrews, the dazzler of My Fair Lady is delighted by the visit of her best beau, British artist Tony Walton. But she longs for him to find a stage designing job that would keep in the U.S. for a while” (Kilgallen May 1956: 38).

“It’s been denied on this side of the Atlantic, but London’s theatrical set is buzzing with the rumor that Julie Andrews…is secretly married to British Tony Walton” (Kilgallen, November 1956: 14)

“Julie Andrews tells friends she’s fixing up her apartment for two. Could it be that a merger with Tony Walton is closer?” (Walker, February 1957: 39).

“The British newspapers are crowing happily over the fact that, although Julie Andrews has become a big star in the U.S., she isn’t making the mistake of marrying a Yankee. Julie remains true to her British boy-next-door, young Tony Walton” (Kilgallen, April 1957: 16).

“Is there a wedding in the offing for Julie Andrews?…No, said Julie, from New York last night. But her 15-ear-old brother, Donald told me earnestly: ‘She’s going to announce her engagement as soon as she comes home in April’” (Fielding, December 1957: 2)

Widely reported on both sides of the Atlantic –– indeed, it even received international attention as far away as Australia (“She is Broadway’s ‘Fair Lady’”: 3) –– the brewing romantic soap opera reached fever pitch in the lead-up to the much-ballyhooed London opening of My Fair Lady in April 1958.

No sooner had Julie touched down at London airport than she was grilled by the waiting media scrum about her relationship with Tony. “Julie Andrews…first hour home was spent denying that she will marry as soon as the show opens,” reported the Daily Express, “I have known the boy I want to marry for 12 years, but we shan’t rush to marry yet” (Lambert: 5). The Daily Mirror made the story its front page news with the declarative headline, “I love him! I love him!! I love him!!!”

“Please clear up all those rumours that Tony and I have had a quarrel….All this business about an on-off romance just isn’t true…We have never quarrelled in our lives, and there has been nobody else for either of us since we fell in love two years ago” (Wilcox: 1).

The fact that the pair were childhood sweethearts from the same small Home Counties village –– as cliched a romantic convention as they come –– intensified public interest in their relationship, while at the same time cementing Julie’s popular image at home as “a nice sensible English girl thoroughly unspoiled by fame” (Wiseman: 10; see also, Nathan: 6).

Even Julie herself was not beyond framing her and Tony’s relationship as a somewhat fanciful storybook romance. In her serialised celebrity memoir published in Woman magazine in May 1958 to coincide with her triumphant return to London, the star drew widely from narrative romance tropes and metaphors to describe the “blossoming” of her and Tony’s love. She even ends the memoir with a fairytale climax where, following the grand London opening of My Fair Lady, the couple are depicted waltzing on the floor of the Savoy Hotel like Cinderella and the Prince:

“At midnight, with Mummie, Uncle Charles, and all my darling family about me, I was at the Savoy and, as I danced with Tony, the orchestra started playing the music from My Fair Lady. The floor cleared and Tony and I were left dancing together, dancing, I felt, in a world of all the dreams and ‘One Days’ come true at last” (Andrews 1958: 51).

Thus, when Julie and Tony finally made public their plans to marry, it came like the pre-scripted climax to a very public fairytale romance, the final chapter in the Cinderella narrative through which Julie’s early star image was so throughly cast:

“Once upon a time there was a spindly-legged, freckle-faced little girl with braces on her teeth named Julie Wells. She lived with her mother and stepfather and brothers and sister in a little house in the country. Of course there was a boy-next-door. The years went by and she grew into a lovely silver-blonde. By this time she was Julie Andrews…She was called ‘the nicest girl in show business.’ And after My Fair Lady she was one of the richest. But like the princesses of fairy tales, riches did not turn her heart from the lad who loved her…Tomorrow they marry in the little village church at Oatlands, Weybridge…They will, undoubtedly, live happily ever after” (Stix: 11).

Sources:

Andrews, Julie. “So Much to Sing About, Part 5.” Woman. 31 May, 1958: 31-35, 48-51.

_____________. Home: A Memoir of My Early Years. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2008.

Cantu, Maya. American Cinderellas on the Broadway Musical Stage: Imagining the Working Girl from Irene to Gypsy. London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2015.

Cottrell, John. Julie Andrews: The Story of a Star. London: Arthur Barker, 1968.

Crane, Lionel. “Julie, The Broadway Bombshell.” Daily Mirror. 8 February 1955: 7.

DeCordova, Richard. Picture Personalities: The Emergence of the Star System in America. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990.

Dyer, Richard. Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society. New York: St Martins Press, 1986.

“Fair Lady Andrews Plans to Marry.” Evening Sun. 6 May 1958: 3.

Fielding, Henry. “Julie’s No.” Daily Herald. 11 December 1957: 2.

Freudenheim, Milt. “American Success Startles British Star Julie Andrews.” Chicago Daily News. 19 April 1956: 11B.

Geraghty, Christine. “Re-examining Stardom: Questions of texts, bodies and performance.” In Gledhill, Christine and Williams, Linda, eds. Reinventing Film Studies. London: Arnold, 2000.

Jerslev, Anne and Mortensen, Mette. "Celebrity in the Social Media Age: Renegotiating the Public and the Private.” In Elliott, Anthony, ed. Routledge Handbook of Celebrity Studies. London: Routledge, 2018.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Broadway Grapevine.” Star-Gazette. 15 March 1955: 16.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Broadway Grapevine.” Star-Gazette. 7 April 1955: 36.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Voice of Broadway.” Star-Gazette. 10 May 1956: 38.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Voice of Broadway.” Star-Gazette. 12 November 1956: 14.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Voice of Broadway.” Star-Gazette. 12 April 1957: 16.

Lambert, John. “Fair Lady Julie is Home––Marriage? Not Yet.” Daily Express. 7 April 1958: 5.

Lowe, Shirley. “The Boy Friend’s Girl Friend’s Great-Grandmother.” Daily Express. 4 October 1955: 3.

Marlborough, Douglas and Court, Monty. “PictureMail Goes to the Stage Wedding of the Year.” Daily Mail. 11 May 1959: 5.

Nathan, David. “The Last Time I Saw Julie.” Daily Herald. 8 April 1958: 6.

“She is Broadway’s ‘Fair Lady’.” The Sydney Morning Herald. ‘Women’s Section.’ 5 July 1956: 3.

Stix, Harriet. “Rich-Girl Julie Weds Boy Next Door.” Daily Express. 9 May 1959: 11.

Sullivan. Ed. “Little Old New York.” Daily News. 4 November 1955: 27C.

Sullivan. Ed. “Little Old New York.” Daily News. 7 May 1956: 45.

Walker, Danton. “Broadway.” Daily News. 25 February 1957: 39.

Wilcox, Dennis. “I Love Him! Says Julie Andrews” Daily Mirror. 7 April 1958: 1.

Wilson, Cecil. “Pocket Money Star Stops the Show.” Daily Mail. 24 October 1947: 3.

Winchell, Walter. “On Broadway.” The Post-Star. 26 April 1956: 4.

Winchell, Walter. “Broadway Cinderellas.” Daily Times. 25 June 1956: 4A.

Wiseman, Thomas. “Has Success Spoiled Julie Andrews?” Evening Chronicle. 17 April 1958: 10.

#julie andrews #tony walton #My Fair Lady #cinderella #star #1950s #female stars #old hollywood #classic film #musical theatre

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bisexualraplines · 5 years ago

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good afternoon gays. i promised a fic rec list to atone for the sins from my, as kim so nicely put it, unspeakable past actions ajjjfdfd. these are all generally g and t’s because i am a big boring baby. there is one technically explicit but, as I said in the desc, its really not. but there IS one listed that is totally explicit. kim wanted it included and I can’t defy her wishes. blame her for insisting on horny rights. anyway enjoy pals. hmu if you have anything you want me to add or want me to read etc etc i am always up for it

this is short and soft and it makes me want to die.

this one i posted about this morning. it’s about the hashtag soft and important moments of pining during the six thousand slutty slutty years

this one is rated e, and i haven’t read it, but it is poetic and horny so read it anyway

aziraphale is a queer icon in history. patron saint of the dumbass gays

i literally cried reading this. immediately post canon. based off this text post.

i have like five whole feelings about this i can’t even begin to describe so i’ll insert authors tags here. #Confessions #The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known #historical events that aren't crowley's fault #blatant disregard for historical biblical or torachical accuracy

“michael if you’re reading this send it to neil”

I haven’t actually read this yet but I’m mutuals with the author and the title is from strawberry blond so I had to include it for like. the sake of everyone

this is quite long, but i liked the dynamic of them in this. it’s rated e and has some risque scenes but tbh they’re tame even to me so! includes quite of a lot of other book charas so that’s fun!

the fic that mr sheen himself endorsed on twitter (its domestic, lads)

I’d love to include everything by this author but for now. hand smooches. extreme tenderness

big. big. depression. my motherly instincts are out. have a good cry, lads

this one is from 2003 so i imagine everyone’s read it already but. they’re establishing as friends. the entire fic takes place on the ark. i love historical and biblical fics send me alllll of them. the concept of crowley’s inability and hesitancy to touch holy things comes up.

forbidden touching? ive been dying to talk about forbidden touching

creepy angel descriptions and theology yooo

they go to broadway shows and bicker about how they feel about the shows

this one is wildly poetic. deals with the concept of pre-fallen crowley knowing aziraphale, and then forgetting about him. doesn’t have a linear timeline but it flows really well. much sad

if i’m forgetting any CLASSICS(tm) feel free to inbox me. i previously had a list going but i accidentally deleted it from my notes and had to go find most of them again. also sorry this format isn’t very helpful without the titles/author/word count but its very me, but if yall prefer them listed that way i can always take time to edit. otherwise, don’t take me this too seriously its just penance for inflicting yall on that awful shit the other day ADJFDJFJD

#I feel like I am definitely forgetting a few #either way #I'll edit. eventually.#I'm about to shut up for the entire next century now you're welcome

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thatdudemaison15 · 6 years ago

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People are getting upset that I falsely remembered Terry and Neil getting very detailed about the way Aziraphale looked but ya'll want to hear something crazy?

I thought they described Crowley as a twink with dirty blonde hair.

Don't ask me why I thought that but when I read the book I probably sat there like "Wow, this twink dude is kinda rad and I really like him lots"

Can ya'll even imagine the expression when I first saw fan art of Crowley with red hair and not looking so twink like? I was so confused that I stayed of the internet for awhile as I contemplated weather if what I saw was real or not.

#crowley #aziraphale #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #good omens

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 6 years ago

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The Dirt!Tommy Lee imagine Pt 1

So I made a post a week ago mentioning a dream I had that inspired this very long fic of which I’m posting this first part. I want to preface this by saying that while I really enjoyed The Dirt as a movie, I also don’t want to glamorize or ignore the faults of the men behind Motley Crue. I’ve also never written fanfiction about a musician, let alone fanfiction about a slightly fictionalized version of a musician. And this is definitely more about the film version of Tommy Lee than the man himself.

She was fresh out of college and brand new in LA, applying for work and living on someone’s couch when she first heard them, and she was hooked.

Sher certainly enjoyed the sound, which reminded her a little of the independent punk scene back in New York, but the look of it—the theatricality of it—inspired her. Four years studying production design with the hopes of applying it to a film and theatre career, she decided, led her here to these people. They had massive budget ideas with limited money for a limited space and she wanted to help them expand.

She kept trying to work up the courage to speak with them, and found herself choking up every time. She, unlike they, was not a performer, not comfortable inserting herself into a group. She lacked the confidence of some of the other women in the crowd who slipped their way into dressing rooms and raised their skirt just so. Part of her had thought about emulating them—after her first concert she found herself paying more attention to the gangly, animated drummer over the strutting blond lead singer before dismissing the thought. She had something these other women couldn’t offer. The band wouldn’t take her seriously if she offered to fuck them first. She continued on sending her resume out, and, just to widen her prospects, started applying to record labels.

Tom Zutaut sought her out first—he felt that her youth and interest in the music scene would lend her some credibility with the band once they signed over to Elektra. He assured her that they would appreciate her vision.

She sat down and spoke with them for the first time at a restaurant with her portfolio tucked under her arm and her nerves ringing as she prepared her speech on how she appreciated the band’s vision and how her visual style would work well for them on tour. She glanced between every face: Mick Mars and his aloof, unimpressed demeanor and folded arms; Nikki Sixx and his quirked brow and slight smirk; Vince Neil and his smug grin; Tommy Lee and his frenetic energy and eager smile. She focused on him and what she saw as a friendly, open face as she opened her portfolio to show her rough sketches…

…and felt a pair of hands slide along the inside of her thighs and push her knees apart.

She flinched and rose, but not before the men at the table snickered and a woman poked her head out from under the table.

“I’m used to sucking dick,” the woman said, grinning, “but I could go either way.”

Y/N glanced at the men at the table and realized this was a test of sorts. Could she handle this environment? She was certain of it. She also knew she didn’t want a stranger to go down on her in semi-public.

Y/N cleared her throat. “You know, sweetheart, I am so flattered. But these are leather pants I’d have to push down to my knees and I just don’t know if I want my bare ass on this seat,” she said as she sat back down.

It was the best she could do, and apparently it was enough. After a round of shots and some cursory glances at some of Y/N’s plans, Motley Crue had an artist ready to go on tour with them.

………..

“You sure you can handle this?” Doc asks as they get ready; the boys have their own accommodations, better rooms and first class on the monstrosity that the company calls a tour bus. There are no other women present save for Vince’s latest girlfriend—all seamstresses and make-up artists are present at each venue. They don’t travel with the band.

Y/N laughs. “I’m from New Jersey, Doc. I’ll be fine.”

Doc doesn’t look convinced. “Listen, obviously I spoke to the guys and they do have some respect for you; see you as more than, you know...”

“A groupie.” She hopes there’s no venom behind those words; she doesn’t hate any of the women that cling to the band and she imagines it would be pointless to get angry over how frequently they stay and how disposable they become. To get angry with a band for having groupies, she reasons, is like getting angry at a Western movie for having horses.

She doesn’t hate them, at least, she thinks she doesn’t. But she likes Tommy’s unmatched energy and lanky body and playful grin. She hears stories about his stamina and size and it is more difficult to ignore the whispers about him than it is about Vince and Nikki. Mick, it seems, dismisses any sort of physical contact. Y/N imagines it would be prudent to do the same. She’s the only woman on the production team and is fully aware how easy it would be for everyone to resent her more than they already do.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Doc says. “You’re not like them. You’re here to work.”

“I know, Doc.” Y/N gestures towards her books of sketches and layouts. “I know.”

……..

None of this is to say that Y/N doesn’t interact with the band at all. As she anticipated, it’s something of a collaborative effort. Nikki in particular has a lot of ideas about staging and costumes that go into effect. Granted, Motley Crue itself appears to be his brainchild, and he’s in charge of most of the creative decisions. He’s smart (although he’d be loath to describe himself as such) he’s attractive; he’s talented. Y/N imagines that in another world she would be more drawn to him than she is. But she’s not; she appreciates his mind and the work, and she hopes that he thinks the same of her.

She wears long pants and jackets most of the time; she seldom wears more than the slightest bit of makeup on tour and she doesn’t try to give the appearance of curves to her slight frame where there aren’t any. She never gives off the impression that she is sexually available, and as a result she’s left alone.

Vince ignores her. Mick is about as pleasant towards her as he is capable of being towards anyone, and Y/N appreciates his candor. She’s told he has a condition that causes constant, often excruciating pain and isn’t sure how to design a set to accommodate him, as if he’d ever accept the help. Nikki is usually somewhat well-behaved around her, even as he knows he doesn’t have to censor himself and that Doc will sometimes complain to her about his coke binges and public indecency. She doesn’t need him to tell her; she stays in the same hotels and when one or more is up to a set of antics she can plainly hear it from her room.

Tommy is playful; there are times she could swear he was flirting, and she cannot tell if he’s joking or not. She also can’t tell if, if he is flirting, whether it’s because he’s attracted to her or because any woman of an appropriate age and decent appearance is a potential one-night stand. A cum dumpster.

She should separate herself. She should keep a professional distance.

She goes to parties with them sometimes and does shots with them that have her staggering and slurring her words long before they’re down for the count and wakes up with hangovers that make her fear opening her mouth. She’s still tamer than they are and abstains from hard drugs and day drinking. She wishes Tommy luck before shows and listens to all of his ideas, good and bad. There’s no greater feeling than his excitement when she puts one of his ideas into practice.

She has sex one night with a tall man with long dark hair who isn’t Tommy but in the dark and after whiskey could be close enough for a few minutes. She can pretend, for a moment, that it’s he who’s inside her, gasping as he comes and holding her hips in a bruising grip. She sneaks out of his room at five AM and heads back to her hotel.

When there she pulls her pants down and brings her fingers to her clit and thinks about him; his tongue, his cock inside of her and his lips on her clit everything finally being right. Alone in a hotel she finds the release she couldn’t get with a pale imitation of what she wanted.

The shame sets in seconds after her climax. She groans as she wipes her fingers off on her inner thigh and tries to ignore the pull in her gut as she kicks her pants off the rest of the way and somehow manages to sleep.

……….

Tommy starts dating a girl named Roxie. Tommy has had casual girlfriends as long as Y/N can remember. He seems to fall for every girl who shows him attention and soon forgets each one.

Y/N could say that she doesn’t like Roxie because it’s clear Roxie doesn’t really care about him, that she doesn’t know him and just wants to cling to someone with fame and power. And all those things are true; she doesn’t trust Roxie nor does she expect her to stick around. She says nothing, though, because what really eats at her is how much she resents the hell out of Tommy being so devoted to her.

Tommy introduces his parents to Y/N first, though. Not because she’s the most important, of course, but because she’s the first familiar face he sees after Doc as he’s giving his parents a tour of the set.

Tommy has mentioned his parents; his mother, a Greek immigrant and former beauty contestant and his father, an army vet. They seem too polite, too conventional for this place and yet Y/N can immediately see how someone like Tommy was able to emerge from what appeared to be a typical suburban upbringing; they clearly love him for everything he is. So she likes them and tries to stay composed when Tommy brushes his hand along the small of her back to introduce her.

“This is Y/N. She makes the magic happen. The lights, the dancers, the backdrop, all her ideas.”

Y/N laughs. “Not entirely true; it’s more collaborative than that. I just draw up the plans and make sure we have the right people and equipment to make them possible.”

“You storyboarded our first music video. Take some credit!” Tommy insists.

Y/N preens under the attention even as she tries to avoid what must be Mrs. Bass’s knowing gaze. “If you insist,” she says. “The business card says ‘production designer,’” she adds for the parents’s benefit.

“And you’re not married?” Tommy’s mother asks.

Y/N can feel herself blush. “Oh, no. Not at all!” she tries to laugh it off. “Got hired for the portfolio and I’ve been on board since.” She hears distantly Tommy gently admonish his mother and it doesn’t quite register. She should get out of here. His mother can probably tell what she thinks of her son and could easily bring it up. “Well, it was wonderful meeting you both,” she adds before finding an excuse to leave.

………..

“Did you hear Tommy proposed to Roxie?” Nikki asks as Y/N shows him several plans for the next leg of their tour.

Y/N feels like she’s been kicked in the gut. She keeps her face in repose and manages to speak.

“You think it’s gonna last?” she asks.

Nikki sighs. “I didn’t think it was gonna last this long. You know Tommy’s mom called her a groupie to her face?”

Y/N laughs; it’s cruel and she relishes in it. She has so few petty comforts she’s sure she can have this. “She’s not wrong,” she says as she packs up her drawings. “I mean, it’s not like she’d be interested in him if he wasn’t famous.”

Nikki sits back and watches her. “You would, though,” he tells her, and of course he notices her pause. Of course he noticed how she looks at his bandmate.

Y/N can’t look back at him. She manages to find her voice. “Does Tommy know?” she asks.

“Nah. He’s completely oblivious,” Nikki says.

“Well, good,” Y/N says faintly, and after setting everything into her portfolio briefcase, stands. “I think I need a drink.”

Nikki grins. “You joined the right band for it.”

……………………………

Tommy calls off the engagement as abruptly as he began it. Y/N didn’t see it, but apparently there was a fight involving him being stabbed in the back with a pen, him punching his fiancée in the face, and liberal use of the word “cunt.” Specifically, Roxie referring to Tommy’s mother as one. The driver drops Roxie off at a Phoenix bus stop with a bag filled with her clothes and no one speaks of her for the rest of the trip to the next venue.

The show goes off without difficulty and Y/N manages to find Tommy afterwards before he can disappear with a mountain of coke, a bottle of Jack, and a girl who looks nothing like Roxie to take his mind off of the dumb decision he’d been about to make.

“Hey, you alright?” she asks. She’s closer to him than she’d normally dare and as he turns around, she remembers just how much taller he is than she.

His eyes are wide but he seems neither upset nor inebriated. He looks her over once and asks, a little louder than Y/N would like, “Are you wearing make-up?”

Y/N shrugs and takes a step back, forcing herself to meet Tommy’s gaze. “One of the ladies was bored and offered to do some work on me before packing up,” she says. “Anyway, let me buy you a drink.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Tommy says, and for a moment, Y/N shrinks back, gets ready to apologize, to back away, to hide in her hotel room. It lasts only a moment. “But yeah, I’ll grab a drink with you.” He smiles at her and it seems genuine; everything he says and does feels earnest.

He leads her to the bar closest the venue, and packed as it is the patrons and bartenders make room for the two of them as they sidle up to the bar.

“A Jameson and ginger ale for me and whatever this guy wants,” Y/N says, and glances over at Tommy, who orders a double shot of Jack Daniels. They won’t have much time to themselves, of course. The other guys will join him and drag him to a private table, and before that fans are already lining up and getting ready for autographs.

“So, I guess you heard what happened,” Tommy says.

“Yeah.” Y/N takes a sip from her drink. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, I guess.” He finishes his shot and signals for another. Y/N waits for him to say something else; Tommy always has something else to say.

He looks down at the bar, at his right hand as it rests against the polish wood. “I hit her,” he says, finally.

“I know,” Y/N tells him. Tommy glances up, looking alarmed. “I also know she screamed at you, cursed at you, cursed your mother, and tried to stab you with a pen before you did.” Y/N rubs her thumb along the condensation forming on the outside of her glass. “I’m not saying you did the right thing; I don’t condone punching people in the face. I am saying she provoked you, that she would have continued trying to provoke you, and that it’s good that you’re not together anymore.” She takes a sip from her drink.

Tommy keeps looking at her. “You didn’t like her, did you?” he asks.

Y/N leans her elbow on the bar and faces him; his eyes are very blue. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

Y/N exhales. “I didn’t believe for a second that she loved you,” she says. “I thought she was using you.

“Listen, I get it. I get that you guys sleep with whoever and it’s no big deal. It’s casual and that’s how it’s supposed to be. But that’s for all the times there isn’t an emotional investment. When there is, though, if you decide to give that to someone, they sure as hell better deserve it. And she didn’t.”

It’s then that Y/N realizes she doesn’t remember the moment her favorite part of the job ceased to be seeing her designs and sketches put onstage, but instead every moment she gets to see Tommy. The crazy lifestyle, the weirdness, it doesn’t matter. She can take it. She wants this, wants every part of him. If she says anything else she’ll burst forth and say everything. For a few agonizing moments they sit in silence and she wants to lean forward, wants to bridge the inches between them. She could kiss him so easily.

“T-Bone!”

Why did neither of them notice Nikki come up to them?

“Come on, man. We got a room set up back. Bottle service, strippers, the works.” Nikki claps Tommy on the shoulder. “Gonna get you back on the horse in no time.”

Tommy looks over at Y/N. Y/N feels her throat constrict, wonders how she can possibly speak, and simply raises her glass in cheers and forces a little smile.

“I…” Tommy stands and motions for the bartender.

“I want you to put this on our tab. This and anything else the lady might want tonight,” he says, patting Y/N on the back.

“Have a good night,” he tells her as he follows Nikki to the back of the bar, and Y/N raises her glass once again before knocking back the rest of her drink.

“Another?”

Y/N pushes her glass forward. “Please.”

The bartender gets to work. “You know those guys?” he asks.

“I work for them,” Y/N tells him.

“Sounds like fun.”

She forces a smile. “It has its moments.”

She leaves two hours later after making very small talk with the bartender, ignoring horny barflies, and ordering several more drinks. She eventually gets a cab to the hotel before stumbling to her room and collapsing fully clothed on the bed. Good thing sober her made sure to schedule a wake up call with the front desk, because drunk her wouldn’t dream of waking up at eight AM—in five hours and presumably hungover.

#the dirt #the dirt movie #tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee #motley crue #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee imagine

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wordshakers · 6 years ago

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Breathless- an Anderperry oneshot

It’s been years since I’ve attempted writing any fanfiction, but something about Anderperry literally inspired me to the point where I HAD to write something.

Rated: M for language

Todd’s trying to write a poem about the boy he’s fallen for, without much luck. Neil shows up and distracts him. Fluffy first kiss stuff bc I love them.

Let me know what you guys think, and if you’d read more if I wrote it. I’m so inspired by these two oh my god

God, why was this so difficult?

Autumn sunlight streamed through the window, casting uneven shadows on Todd’s notebook as he sat on his bed, racking his brain for words that could somehow encapsulate how he felt.

Normally, he didn’t have issues like this when it came to his poetry. Nature, freedom, truth— for any other topic, words seemed to flow directly onto the page, as if he hardly needed to try at all.

But this was different. This was Neil.

Neil. Even thinking the name was enough to make Todd’s stomach explode with butterflies and his heart pound in his chest. He honestly couldn’t tell if he was lucky or unlucky to have this boy as his roommate, this boy whose smile and eyes lingered in his head for hours, relentlessly distracting him from anything and everything.

No words seemed good enough to describe Neil. Nothing seemed to do him justice, to articulate just how goddamn perfect he was to Todd. And although Todd was certain that this poem would never be shared, for some reason that made it all the more important to get right. At least he had at least another ten minutes before Neil got back from rehearsal.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there he was.

Todd’s face flushed pink as Neil entered the room, script in hand, grinning. He was back early. Neil shut the door behind him and pressed his back up against it, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly. “Todd, I swear to God, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

Paranoid as he was that Neil would see the title of the poem that was sitting in his lap, Todd couldn’t hold back a smile. “Neil, I’m so happy for you.”

“I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier,” Neil recited, ecstatic, dropping his script and running right up to Todd with that smile that made his knees go weak, “Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, a hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire!”

Todd laughed, Neil’s joy was more infectious than anything he had ever known before. He was so lost in Neil’s excitement that he almost forgot about the notebook in his lap, until—

“Hey, have you been writing? What about?”

Todd panicked, grabbing the notebook and pressing it up against his chest. “Um, I— it’s nothing,” he stammered. The last thing he needed was for Neil to find out… well, everything.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Todd, I’m sure it’s great. Remember your poem in Mr. Keating’s class? You’re a natural.” Neil said kindly, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Um.. it’s not finished yet… I…” Todd scrambled to come up with an explanation, gripping the notebook against his chest for dear life, trying to ignore the fact that Neil was sitting so close to him, let alone where they were sitting.

Neil smirked at him, making Todd’s breath catch in his throat. “Okay,” Neil said cheekily, as if he was hiding something. He began to stand up, and Todd finally began to relax, when suddenly—

Neil grabbed the notebook out of Todd’s hands and Todd’s stomach dropped. Shit!

Neil started running to the other side of the room, and Todd chased after him in a panic. “Neil, please, give it back!” he begged, not wanting Neil to see the title on the page, really not wanting Neil to see the little hearts. He was so focused on his task that he completely forgot that Neil had dropped his script on the floor.

Just as Neil turned back to look at him, grinning, Todd tripped over Neil’s script and stumbled, falling forward. Seeing the shock on the other boy’s face as he started to fall, Neil reacted without even thinking, reaching out and grabbing Todd, preventing him from falling and dropping the notebook in the process.

It had all happened so fast, Todd could barely believe the moment was real. Neil’s left arm was firmly grabbing his, and his right arm was wrapped around the small of Todd’s back. And on top of all that, their faces were barely a few inches apart. Todd was suddenly breathless.

The eye contact was electric, intense, and unblinking. Neil’s eyes flickered down to Todd’s lips for not even half a second, and Todd’s knees went so weak that he silently thanked God that Neil was already holding him up.

Todd could barely process reality as he became aware of Neil’s breath against his lips and holy shit he’s so close and his heart was pounding as he realized the three inches between their faces had shrunk down to two… one…

“N-Neil,” he began to stammer, but he could barely form the word before Neil’s lips were on his.

It was like nothing Todd had ever felt before, like fireworks and electricity deep inside him. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would ever actually get to kiss Neil Perry, and here he was, lips soft and full and delicious, kissing him back more passionately than Todd could have ever dreamed. He felt intoxicated, his knees completely buckling from under him, Neil’s vice grip on his back tighter than ever. Todd never wanted this to end.

The kiss couldn’t have lasted longer than ten seconds, but when the two boys finally pulled apart Todd could have sworn that it lasted at least ten minutes. Dizzy, flustered, and breathless, Todd almost refused to believe that they really just kissed, but when he opened his eyes, there was Neil, looking just as stunned and red-faced as him.

‘Neil?” Todd said softly, hesitantly, looking up into the other boy’s eyes. “Did that really just happen? Did— did you just kiss me?”

Neil nodded, staring so intently at Todd that he almost felt Neil could see inside his head. “You… you kissed me back.”

“Of course I kissed you back,” Todd breathed out, unable to hold back with Neil still holding him like this. “I thought— I mean, I never wanted to assume that you were—”

“I know. I know. I didn’t either—”

“But this means you are—”

“Yes, Todd, I am gay, and—”

Neil was cut off by Todd’s eager lips on his this time, and he melted into the kiss, Todd suddenly feeling vastly more sure of himself than he did a minute ago.

When the kiss broke, Neil’s eyes stayed shut for half a second longer, as if he was trying to process that this was reality, his breaths coming slow and heavy.

“Todd… I… I’ve wanted this for so long,” he finally said, opening his eyes to look at the blond boy.

“You too?” Todd asked breathlessly, still in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Neil said, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I feel like I need to pinch myself.”

“So do I,” said Todd, before suddenly realizing the possible consequences of this. “Neil, but what about your father?”

Neil’s brow furrowed, concerned, before he suddenly and decidedly shook his head. “No. Fuck my father, he’s not taking this away from me too.”

“Are you sure?”

“More than I’ve ever been.”

Todd looked at Neil for a moment, and his mind began to buzz through the realm of possibilities opening up before him now that his feelings were confirmed to be reciprocal. Holy shit. Is this heaven?

“So…” Todd said knowingly, confidence rising. “There’s nobody else in here.”

Neil raised his eyebrows. “That’s true,” he started, a smirk forming on his lips. “What do you suggest we do?”

Todd’s heart skipped a beat, enjoying the building tension. “Clearly, what we should always aim to do.” He looked directly into Neil’s eyes. “Seize the day.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Neil breathed out, pressing his forehead against Todd’s. “Carpe diem.”

And with that, they were kissing again, and Todd knew that from now on, he would never run out of words when it came to describing Neil. This poem had practically written itself.

#let me know if this is completely embarrassing or actually good bc i really dont know anymore #i just love them so goddamn much and i just felt compelled to write something #anderperry #dps #todd anderson #neil perry #dead poets society #neil/todd #dps fanfic #dps fanfiction #dead poets #anderperry fanfic #writing tag

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micahrodney · 3 years ago

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Thread; Chapter 8 - The Strings Which Make Us Dance

This is a commission piece for Matthew Caveat Zealot.

---

Neil was, once again, lying in his bed in his dorm room. He was rather tired of being dumped off here whenever the universe was done with him. Immediate disorientation set in. Where was established, but when was the big question.

Fortunately, his alarm clock offered him a glimpse of the time, 9 AM. Scrambling off the side of his bed he noticed his wall calendar, assuming it was up-to-date, read Sunday.

The concerning thing was that a week seemed to have passed since his misadventure at the Levant Residence.

"Rem, if you're there, we need to talk," Neil said.

Rem was silent.

The knocking resumed and once again came the once melodic and now mildly alarming voice of Erica.

The old flame had burnt out a few weeks prior. But to Neil – who was presently a hostage to the whim of time – it felt as though it had only been a handful of days. The wounds were still fresh, and he could not imagine what she wanted.

He took a quick look at himself. A tiny bit of peach fuzz on his face, and he was only wearing plaid boxers. A fine state he was in. Reaching towards the nearest clean-ish t-shirt, Neil made a mental note to keep up with his laundry. He slipped the neon blue gym shirt over himself, saw that there was a very noticeable pasta stain on it, and shrugged.

Well, it's not like I'm trying to impress her anymore.

He opened the door and saw her. At once he wished he had taken a moment to find a clean shirt. She was as beautiful as the day she shattered his heart.

Perfect blonde hair, trimmed fashionably to her neck. She wore what could only be described as high society attire, a white blouse and black skirt that went down to her knees, with a pearl necklace and matching alexandrite earrings.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were already awake," Erica said, scanning him with the tiniest hint of disapproval. "Would you like to take a moment to get dressed?"

"Depends on how long the conversation will be," Neil answered flatly.

There were a number of things he wanted to say right now. All of them felt childish and petty compared to the fate of the universe and considering he had just made a very powerful enemy of at least one person, he wasn't feeling terribly charitable. He hated her and he loved her. He wanted to invite her into his apartment and make love to her until the next time Rem dragged him out of reality, and he wanted to instruct her on where precisely she could stick her goddamn pearls.

This wasn't his Erica. This was some… socialite who happened to share her face and name.

This was the kind of girl his father wanted him to fall for. That was the thought that hurt the most. The realization that this phantom of his old flame was… not better, but definitely more socially acceptable.

Erica pressed herself against the door frame as if attempting to prevent Neil from slamming the door on her. A smart move as he was fighting the urge even as they spoke.

"I just… I don't know, I've been rethinking some things in my life and I think I might have been a bit," Erica made a rhythmic hand-waving gesture as though she were fumbling to cast a spell. "Hasty?"

"Ending our relationship was you being 'hasty'?" Neil clarified, putting his hand on the door and moving closer to block the entrance to his room.

"I understand that's not a great answer," Erica replied, backing away slightly. "Look, I've been having a tough time adjusting to college and my mom's new friends. You know how overbearing she can be. She has me canvasing for some church thing she's involved with."

"Your mom always seemed to like me," Neil noted, softening slightly.

"Uh-huh. What were her words exactly?" Erica tilted her head upwards in mock straining. "Ah yes, she told me that you were fine, and I quote, 'for a high school boyfriend'."

"And that's why you dumped me?" Neil asked.

Erica bristled slightly and folded her arms. "Not just that. There were other reasons. We don't need to rehash them, I hope."

"You did a pretty damn thorough job listing all of my failings at our last meeting," Neil scoffed.

"I don't have time for this."

Erica put her hand on the door as Neil made to close it. The two were now inches apart in the negative space between his dormitory and the hallway.

"I messed up, okay?" Erica spat out. "I was letting all of the stress get to me and I didn't give you a fair chance. Is that what you want?"

"What I wanted was to know why. Now I do.

I'm not good enough for you," Neil retorted.

"Oh, Neil, come on," Erica sighed in frustration. "That's exceptionally childish, even for you."

"It's been, what, three weeks since we broke up and you've decided now, out of the blue, that I'm worth sticking around as long as I fix myself for you?" Neil asked.

"Yes, there are things I think you need to work on," Erica replied, bluntly. He couldn't even fault her; she was technically right about that.

"But I also have things I need to work on too. I don't want to lose you over a fight."

Neil let go of the door and dropped his arms to his sides. "Do you love me?"

Erica seemed lost in thought for a moment. This was a sentiment she had difficulty expressing lately. He had noticed a turn in her. She was right, he had some faults he needed to work on. But the confirmation that his failure had led to their relationship ending was torture. Almost as bad as knowing his stubbornness might ruin his chance at reconciliation.

"I don't know," Erica expressed, settling on honesty. "I'm not sure I really know what that is. What I do know is that I care about you, and I want to be with you and maybe we can figure that out together."

Neil wasn't sure how to answer that. It was so damned reasonable. He had been entertaining the possibility that this was some nightmarish extension of the Crossroads. Something Levant had cooked up to distract him. Or that perhaps he had been deposited in some alternate timeline. Levant had made the suggestion that Neil could visit another world where Erica "worshipped" him. But this was not that.

She was different.

She had grown up. The more he thought on it, the more he realized that Erica's tastes had been changing ever since they left high school. The sudden change had been Neil no longer fitting into her life. Erica was right, he had things he needed to work on. But was changing who he was healthy? Was it fair to him? Or her for that matter?

"I need time to think, Erica," Neil replied.

Erica sighed. "I guess that's fair. I took a few weeks myself."

She chuckled softly, an awkward attempt at levity that made her seem more like the old Erica than any of her words. It was patient, understanding, and deeply human; reasonability in the face of one's childish and impatient desires for a speedy resolution.

"I have your number," Neil nodded, moving the door slightly.

Erica took the hint and backed into the hallway. "I'll be waiting."

--- When Neil finally decided he was ready to face the day, he had half-expected Erica to be still waiting right outside his door, hoping for an answer. This foolishness was not rewarded with her presence, and he felt silly even thinking about it. A shower and clean clothes definitely made him feel better, but a proper meal would go a long way. His usual haunt seemed the best choice. Besides, he was hoping Angie could help him recover some of his lost time.

He had tried to call Damien several times, but the usually attentive friend was not picking up the phone. He tried the house phone as well, but the answering machine was full; his father was a very popular man.

And a megalomaniac bent on universal destruction.

Ah, there it was. How was he supposed to have that conversation? He supposed he would have to try and bring it up at some point. But would Levant let him get that close? Was that the reason Damien was not answering the phone? There were too many questions, few answers, and the only reliable source of information that he had access to was Angie.

He arrived at half-past noon, a bit late in the day for breakfast food even if your sleep schedule was that of a lay-about college student. The blond boy behind the counter was unfamiliar to him and the "Trainee" name badge he wore was not encouraging.

"Uh, is Angie in?"

Neil asked.

"Sorry, no I think she had to leave early. Wasn't feeling so good. Can I get you something?" The boy replied.

He couldn't have been more than seventeen, and probably younger by the look of him. Perhaps a high school kid looking to save up for college.

Neil greatly missed when those were the height of his pressing concerns.

"Uh, just coffee I guess, room for cream. And uh, do you have any muffins left?"

"Apple walnut is all I have left. We're on lunch right now."

Neil sighed, glanced at the lunch menu – he'd never had an opportunity to thoroughly inspect it before – and decided stale familiarity was better than fresh and unproven.

"Yeah, I'll take it," he grunted, perhaps a bit more rudely than he meant. The kid would live.

"Coming right up, sir."

Sir. Yeah, that's great. I'm a "sir" now. A sir who has nobody. Not even the damned voice in my head, Neil fumed silently, taking a seat in an open booth and staring out the window.

The muffin was stale but palatable. The coffee was flat but stimulating. The physical effects of the food were noted and then set aside, without so much as a drop of dopamine to reward him. He was hardly a loner, but he generally enjoyed his solitude. He enjoyed having time to himself; moments to clear his head. Especially after mom…

Neil rubbed his forehead and considered his options. He was lonely, miserable, and watching what were meant to be the best years of his life slipping away a few days at a time.

Powerless.

That was the primary source of his ennui. Nothing he had wanted that day had come to pass. None of his friends were available, he had no answers, he wasn't entirely certain he was even in his own timeline, and the nagging question of what to do with Erica lingered.

Levant had said that he was powerful. That he had potential he had barely begun to tap.

"Well doctor," Neil mumbled to himself, draining the last few dregs out of his coffee cup before crumpling the styrofoam in his hand. "There. That's all the power I have. I'm not fucking special. Hell, I don't even know what I am anymore, but it's not powerful."

"Oh! Neil," came an all-too-familiar voice.

Neil turned to see her standing in the doorway to The Junction. She had changed in the past few hours and was now in far more familiar attire. Light jeans, her Vans, and a t-shirt with the album art for Pink Floyd's "The Wall". She still had on her pearl earrings, but this was far more familiar to the girl he knew. Maybe she had been out for a job interview or something.

"Erica," Neil nodded curtly.

"Come on, pull up a booth."

What the hell, Neil thought, embracing the chaotic wind that had swept through his life. I'll ride the current for a while.

"Oh, are you su-"

"You want to get back together," Neil stated. "I say we start with lunch and see where the day takes us."

"That's… incredibly forward of you," Erica noted, but taking a seat nonetheless. "I take it you had a good think back at your dorm?"

"No," Neil answered honestly. "I stopped thinking." ---

Before he knew what was happening, Erica was dragging Neil by his shirt collar through the door of her dormitory. It was considerably cleaner, and she had the privilege of having a room all to herself.

There was a second bed, but it was unoccupied. Neil vaguely remembered her mentioning that her roommate had transferred earlier in the semester when she moved. This was somewhere during his afternoon that had since been blotted out by an overpowering fog of lust.

He could vaguely make out the surroundings, stereo, TV, mid-range personal computer, and walls absolutely covered floor to ceiling in posters that would make his sister seem utterly out-of-touch with the music scene. Pink Floyd, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, KISS, she had a taste for classic rock. But interspersed, almost as gap-fillers, were alternative choices such as Green Day, Ace of Base, and some new band called Goldfinger.

That poster featured a woman with ebony hair and bright red lipstick wearing a cheesy retro-style astronaut suit, and the band's name in electric yellow font with red outline. "Here In Your Bedroom", the name of their single, was both present on the lime green album art as well as playing on the stereo when Erica pinned Neil down on her queen-sized mattress and started removing his shirt. By the time John Feldmann belted out his last refrain, they were both bare, limbs entangled and, as the song suggested, minds turned off. ---

Neil must have passed out. Because he woke in Hell.

There was a loud claxon sound piercing his skull and echoing through the vast chamber he found himself in.

Specifically, he and around fifty other people were tightly packed in a cage designed to hold maybe ten, writhing together as a mass of flesh as they tried to attain their freedom. The steel of the bars was rusted and blackened from heat.

They were underground, wherever they were, with a great chasm right beside their cage that sunk down several hundred feet into a void, from which a hideous green glow emanated.

Above them was a looming and fathomless high ceiling of the void, encased by the rock walls that surrounded it. The walls were oddly slick, with fresh-running streams of fluid which Neil recognized from their stench alone to be blood and offal.

There was an explosion of sound to his left as a great burly jailer wearing a black hood and nothing else cracked a leather whip against the cage bars. Neil was pressed against this frame with no protection and the next strike hit its mark, stinging his cheek and causing blood to pool just under his right eye.

The din was unbearable, with screaming, crying, and howling rising in chorus with the sound of that terrible alarm.

Home, Neil thought.

It was all he could think as his body protested the horrid conditions. The heat, the pain, the crushing sensation of his organs being pulverized. Home.

I want to go home.

Another crack hit the person beside him, an elderly woman who, rather than reacting to the pain, simply let out a sigh. The pain was familiar to her. It probably didn't even sting at this point. And he knew looking into her eyes, that would be his fate. He would be in this cage for the rest of eternity until his body was as broken and useless as hers. His torment would be unending, his life meaningless and his worthless carcass good for nothing more than target practice for the monster on the other side of these bars.

Oh yes. Levant had seen a Hell alright. And Neil was here.

The whip came towards Neil's face once more, and in desperation, he reached his hands through the narrow gap in the bars and caught the head of the whip. Neil felt a strange pulling sensation from within, one that coursed through him like a sudden rush of blood to an open wound.

As he held the striking end, the leather softened to insular black rubber, and the toughness a millimeter beneath it revealed the innards to be made of wound metal. His tormenter seemed unable to move; unable to let go.

Neil had no idea how he was doing it, but it washim enacting the change. He had just wanted to get out somehow. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his friends again, to be in bed with Erica, to just be a regular college student once more. But above all else, as the whip came close to his face, one thought rose to the front of his anguished, panicked and exhausted mind.

I want to kill that son of a bitch.

And now what was once the handle of the whip morphed into bare exposed wire, whose end frayed, with each separate spindly coil wrapping themselves around the jailer like snakes.

They bound his whole body leaving harsh red marks in his skin, tightly lashing about him, cutting off blood flow, and around his neck cutting off his airway. The black hood fell off of his tormentor, and Neil saw the face.

He was a man, bald with deep gash wounds in every exposed bit of skin. Burn marks and gashes revealed the true nature of the formerly irredeemable torturer. He was just another prisoner here. Neil felt pity and in the last moment, he tried to amend his desire.

Not dead. Not dead, don't kill him.

And, as though he had uttered a word of command, the wires around his neck loosened, and he remained bound, but alive, on the rocky floor of the prison. The way was clear, at least for now. Bolstered by his unexpected success, Neil decided to push his luck. With the same free hand that once held the end of the whip, he now managed to wrap a few fingers around the rusty bars of the cage.

Disappear.

Nothing happened. The bars were as they had ever been. He almost gave up hope, until he took a desperate moment to consider what had happened. The whip hadn't vanished, it had been transmogrified.

Okay… melt.

At once the metal became scalding to the touch, and there was a cry from the people gathered within the cage. Just a quick startled gasp, however, as in the very next second, the cage cooled and solidified as a puddle beneath them and in some cases, draped over them in thin, parallel lines. They fell out, all over the ground before them. A few had taken a tumble over the edge of the cliff but were clinging to it, upper bodies holding on for dear life.

Some fled at once, without bothering to stay with the group. Some helped the others regain their footing, others still tended to injuries.

As for Neil, he took a moment to thoroughly inspect the nightmare he had fallen into. The path before the cage split off into two directions and down opposite corridors into unknown chambers. The platform he was on stood at the top of a great stone pillar. With the cage removed, the chamber he was in was about thirty feet in diameter at its widest point. He figured he had better pick a direction and start running when his plans were interrupted.

"Neil Ryder Brown," came a voice echoing through the blackness, temporarily replacing the claxon. It spoke in a bland but booming officious monotone. "Age twenty. Occupation:

Disappointment. Crime: Meddling with the multiverse, and now a prison break. Sentence: Eternal Damnation."

There was a sound of marching footsteps, and down each of his two options came a squad of hooded men wearing blackened steel armor over grey weave that looked almost like Kevlar. There were twelve in total, each of them carrying a forked pikestaff made from the same material as the cage. Suddenly, in front of Neil, there was a dramatic but oddly fake-looking puff of smoke that rose in a grandiose plume, before dissipating to reveal Anders Levant.

"Is this more to your liking?" He grinned.

He was wearing tacky red pajamas, and a dollar store set of plushy red devil horns. The crimson cape and plastic tail really completed the effect he was going for. Once again, the man was toying with Neil.

"You spared this one.

How kind of you," Levant grunted, pointing down at the bound torturer. "Ever the hero."

With a wave of his hand, the bound man slid along the floor just past Neil and over the edge of the cliff.

The bound soul didn't even scream on his way down.

"What the hell is this?!" Neil demanded.

"Call it basic training," Levant replied, playing with his tail and spinning it like a whip.

"Desperation yields quick results.

You've done this a time or two before without realizing it, but I think you're starting to understand what you're capable of."

"Thanks for the lesson," Neil replied, feeling his insides quiver and his heart sink. He shook repressed fear. If they were about to battle, he was going to lose.

"Clearly it was insufficient. If you don't nut up and start defending yourself, you're going to die out here," Levant explained. "Go ahead, be a hero. Save all of them, if you can."

The guards, in unison, raised their tridents, pointed them straight at Neil, and began to slowly advance. He backed up the few feet he had, but eventually, his left heel found nothing beneath him. If anything, Neil was even more frantic and disoriented than he was in the cage.

There was nothing here. Was touch a mandatory component of his powers or not?

Was there anything he could get hold of?

What if this was all just an illusion?

Should he just dive over the cliffs and be done with it?

Give me something, damn it.

The puddle of cooled metal rose between him and the guards, resolidifying and then expanding to create a wall slightly higher than Neil's head.

"Not a bad start," Levant whispered in his ear.

With a start, Neil turned to his right. Levant had ditched the fake-looking costume and was now in a blood-red three-piece suit with a black tie and patent-leather shoes.

"The fuck," Neil gasped in exasperation.

"Do you think they know we're in here?" Levant asked, mockingly.

In a moment the business end of a trident pierced through the wall, stopping inches from Neil's eyes.

The rusty black metal was now positively oozing with fresh blood.

"What's the matter, don't wanna kill me yourself?" Neil asked.

"I am," Levant replied, matter-of-factly. "You don't think those guards out there are real people, do you?"

"Oh," Neil nodded, with sudden realization.

Okay, let's see if this works.

The trident retracted from the wall, leaving three evenly spaced holes to peek through. Soon more came, chipping away at Neil's dubious protection in a rapid but rhythmic flurry of strikes. The Binder took his chance, placing a free hand on the wall in front of him. He had meant to try pushing the wall back to knock them off the other side of the cliff, but at the last moment, one of the great spiked tips gouged straight through his palm. He lost control and, in his anger, his energy and thoughts were redirected.

Burn them all.

Once more the metal was white-hot, even scalding Neil again. He pushed forward and it became a raging field of fire that swept across the entire platform. When the bright flame cleared, all that was left was thirteen charred skeletons, six to a side, and a smaller one right in front of him.

Neil dropped to his knees, the spike of the trident still embedded in his palm. He tugged the pike out and the wound began to bleed for just a moment before his palm began to mend itself.

"You can do without the stigmata, kid," Levant smirked. "You already think you're some grand savior. But one who clearly understands so little about the power you possess."

"Next time I'll burn you," Neil growled furiously. He was enraged, still in agony from the pain despite the wound being healed, and ready to end it all here.

"Yeah, I suspect you will," Levant chuckled. "And you'll probably get me in the end. But then as chaotic and unrefined as your power is, you'll do an awful lot of collateral damage."

He walked over to the small skeleton in the middle, pointing a solemn finger down to a spot just beyond its outstretched hand. With a small pop, a blackened plush figure rematerialized; a small teddy bear.

"Poor thing. She came back to get her toy. Such loyalty children have to their imaginary friends. Like you and Rem, I suppose," Levant noted.

"What are you…"

But Neil knew what Levant was getting at. This was one of his fellow prisoners. A girl, maybe seven years old. And Neil had killed her.

"I have a daughter about that age. Little Talia, you met her," Levant went on, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. "Has this little toy Dino, you know that purple dinosaur from the Flintstones?

She carries him everywhere. I've had to replace him a few times, but to her, it's the same one she got when she was… four or five, I can't remember exactly."

"You're making that up.

She's not real," Neil said, though his mind was filled with doubt.

"I assure you my daughter is real. I wasn't there when she was born, mind you, but I-" Levant paused in mock revelation.

"Oh, you mean this little one."

He started as if seeing her for the first time. "Poor thing is all bones!"

With malice glee, he kicked her skull off the edge of the cliff.

"Stop it, you bastard!" Neil shouted taking a few steps forward. The remaining bones suddenly grew ten-fold into great spikes, surrounding Levant in a cage of marrow.

Levant looked at him through the gap in the rib bones and gave him an extended, melodramatic eye roll.

He snapped and in an instant was outside the cage, standing directly in front of Neil.

"You might have killed me if you thought about it hard enough. But you don't have the stomach for it. This is one little girl you killed by accident. Think about all of the Threads that depend on you and the timelines that your mistakes will end. If you can't handle one accidental death, then you are grossly underprepared for the task that the Somni have for you."

"I didn't mean to kill her," Neil shouted, defensively.

"So what, Neil?!" Levant shouted, dropping his air of superiority so suddenly that Neil fell back. His hands found no purchase but fortunately, most of his lower body was still on the rock.

"Do you think that will matter to the kid's parents?" Levant went on. "Do you think you can just magic away your mistakes with good intentions?

Do you think you get to look at the universe and go 'I'm sorry I ruined everything, don't blame me, I'm just a kid!'"

"Then what about you?!" Neil shouted, incensed. He felt the urge to strike out at Levant. Maybe he could kill him. Maybe.

But what would happen if he did?

Who would he hurt next time?

"I told you," Levant said, calming down. If ever he spoke true to Neil, it was clearly in this moment. "I'm not interested in destroying this universe. I rather like it. I want to save it. But I'll be damned if I let the madness continue."

"So what? You set yourself up as some kind of God?" Neil asked.

"Hey, better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven, am I right?" Levant smirked. "Sure, some self-righteous types like you will call me an oppressor, but in reality, I'm liberating the universe from the mad whims of both extremes. But there will be people like you, and like your grandfather, who think it's better to kill the 'bad guy' no matter how many kids they sacrifice to do it."

"My grandfather?" Neil asked.

"Ask your old man," Levant smiled. "Now, let me leave you with a little something to remember me by."

Intense, searing pain pierced through Neil's neck and upwards towards his brain. His face was on fire and the veins on his face turned from bright blue to pitch black. He couldn't think. He couldn't form words. Neil Brown was going to die then and there, and there was nothing he could do to save himself.

"You need to get with the picture, Neil," Levant said darkly. "I promise you, if you keep fucking with me, you will wish you were still in my Hell."

Neil screamed and screamed.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw Erica once more.

#writing #commissionwriting #cosmichorror #thread matthewcaveatzealot commission

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c-valentino · 8 years ago

Text

Lighter Next To Your Coffee Mug II

Chapter 2

Twenty-four-year-old Andrew Minyard left his apartment. Keys in hand, he shrugged to adjust the black coat on his muscular frame. Standing only five feet tall, it was sometimes hard to find clothes he liked. Most designers had taller men in mind for their clothes, even though Andrew had all the right proportions. He checked his phone. Kevin was still at the hospital, doctors fussing over him, trying to save his career. Busted shoulder. He’d live. That was Andrew’s only concern right now. He wouldn’t sit by Kevin’s bedside and hold his hand. He had a girlfriend for that. Tears were for the fans, concern was for their teammates, Andrew was only interested in results.

The elevator doors opened to the underground parking lot and woken by a slight touch on the key, the Maserati announced its presence and greeted him with a flash of light and the sound of unlocking doors. Money well spent.

Andrew got in and started the engine. The car came to life around him and he leaned back in his seat. Second-guessing himself was not his style. He knew this to be the truth. Didn’t mean he was immune to it though. He was about to make a mistake, yet he did nothing to stop himself. Andrew wasn't prone to displaying his emotions on his face. He didn’t roll his eyes, as he told himself, once again, that this was a mistake. He shifted the car into gear and left the parking lot.

As expected, he saw the young man he was looking for leaving the old building he lived in, most likely on his way to Eden’s. Andrew didn't want to meet him there, though. They knew him there. To his credit, the young man noticed quickly that someone was following him. Andrew liked that, he had to admit. Too many people were self-absorbed zombies these days, smartphone in hand at all times, headphones reducing the sound of the city to a background murmur.

The young man turned a corner and vanished into a darker side street. Since he had already been noticed, Andrew followed him and stopped the car right next to the young man, rolling his window down halfway. “Hey.” The young man looked at him for the first time.

“What’s your name?” He hated this guy. Everything about him seemed right. Not perfect, just right. The pale skin looked good with his black hair, a nice contrast to Andrews pale on pale, from skin, to his blonde hair and his hazel eyes. Now those eyes looking down at him in his Maserati widened in disbelieve.

Neil had noticed someone following him shortly after he had left his home. A black sports car was following him, keeping a little distance. Neil cursed under his breath, crossed the street and went down into the next back alley. If we made it two streets down, he could shake the car behind the old elementary school there. Maybe the guy had guessed his plan. The car was speeding up until it was right next to him.

“Hey. What’s your name?” Neil didn’t mean to answer. He was about to run and only looked at the guy to see who was following him around. He nearly did a double take.

“Andrew Minyard.” There was awe in Neil’s voice. He did stare now, openly, too shocked to feel ashamed about it. This was Andrew Minyard, his favorite Exy goalkeeper and team member of the national team lead by Kevin Day. Minyard, sitting in his black Maserati, following him in this dirty back alley, asking his name. His mind went into fan mode overdrive and he couldn't stop it from happening.

“No. That’s mine. Thanks for the reminder.”

“Why are you following me?” Suspicion was so had to shake. He looked around once more –no one else in sight.

“Roland told me about you.” Neil blinked. Stay a while… That had been two weeks ago. He hadn’t asked Roland about it afterwards, assuming that whatever the bartender had been talking about hadn't worked out after all. Was this a business proposal? His mind started to race.

“But what are you doing here?” Roland didn’t know where he lived. None of his clients did either. He had made sure of that.

“You think you were hard to find?” Neil hoped so. In fact, his life depended on it. He hadn't survived this long because people could simply look him up online. He avoided social media like the plague, only used his phone to confirm business appointments ��that wretched thing. He always turned it off as soon as possible and left it at home when he could. Andrew sighed. He had obviously caught on to his paranoia.

“I followed you. You usually show up at Eden’s.” What the hell? Neil had known that it was risky for him to become predictable. It was a chink in his armor, he knew, but it was a bit of desperately needed stability in his life. He wouldn’t stay in this city forever. He just wanted some familiar faces in his life –the girl at the Italian restaurant he frequented ever so often, the guy at the cash register at the supermarket who didn't give a fuck about customers, Roland at Eden’s… He needed them.

And now this. Andrew Minyard had followed him on his way to Eden’s across town. He could have just waited at the club, if he already knew Neil would show up.

“Listen, this is between us. Whatever happens, no one needs to know.” Andrew’s voice brought Neil back to the problem at hand and he looked at the goalkeeper through the half-open window. Focus, Neil… If this was business, there were only so many scenarios why someone like Minyard would approach him.

One: Andrew Minyard was a closet gay with possible BDSM tendencies which he wanted to explore but keep a secret from his fans and teammates.

Two: Andrew Minyard was gay with BDSM tendencies and had chosen Neil, of all people, because he fit his preferences in a partner.

Three: Someone (possibly Roland) was playing a terrible joke on him, using one of his Exy idols and… –absurd.

“You want to be my client,” he asked cautiously. Maybe Andrew realized how cliché this was. Him, driving his black sports car down an empty alley, picking up a prostitute from the streets. This was not how Neil did business and he had half a mind to tell Andrew just that. But the goalkeeper sighed, seemingly annoyed and got out of the car. He leaned back against it and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, giving Neil time to look at him and process the situation.

“Didn’t say that,” he finally said then, voice monotone. “I’m saying we might work something out.” No hint of nervousness or self-consciousness in him.

Neil crossed his arms in front of his chest. This was bad timing. He just had a client, had in fact, spent four hours in a hotel room, fulfilling the fantasies of a middle-aged business man wearing only his tie and dress shirt, while he pretended to be the client’s male assistant named Alex. Alex seemed to be a pampered rich kid with influential parents in real life, cocky to the extreme and an embarrassment in his position on more than one occasion. Or how his client liked to describe it: Alex needed to be bend over and get the spanking his cunt of a mother had never given him… Over the desk, over the knee, at the coffee machine, he somehow couldn't manage to convince to produce a decent cappuccino, even though it only took the press of one fucking button… And then Alex would put his dirty mouth to good use for once in his life.

Neil had done all that and then some. It was an ongoing scene they had revisited over weeks now with changing locations. His client took his time working his way through it and Neil had his Alex act perfected by now. Afterwards, he had gone home, undressed methodically and had taken a shower. He had made sure his hair didn't need to be re-dyed yet, that his barely visible auburn roots escaped notice. He had made sure he had enough colored contact lenses left. Alex had green eyes, Christian had brown eyes and Nathaniel –Neil –had icy blue ones.

He had left Alex in that small bathroom behind and had changed into new clothes that were more to Nathaniel’s liking. They were nothing special but he would blend in at Eden’s later that night well enough. But he had not gotten to Eden’s this time. Too bad. He had liked to be no-name-well-tipping-customer-ordering-Roland’s-specials for a little while tonight.

“I see,” he said instead. “Maybe we could,” he agreed. Andrew, still looking at him, took another drag from his cigarette.

“Walk me through it then,” Andrew offered.

“This is business,” Neil elaborated. “There are rules.”

“Business,” Andrew agreed, glad they were on the same page here.

“The price depends on what you want me to do. It’s not a matter of time per se.” He shrugged. “There are limits, of course. We both have busy lives.” Andrew seemed content to just listen for now, so he went on, “For you it’s straight forward. You tell me what you want, in as much detail as necessary. I mean that. Chances are, I’ve heard it all before, so no need to act coy. It only complicates matters.” Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Andrew to be shy about anything but he said it anyway. It was his usual speech and he had seen men who had acted all cocky and then clam up before.

“I’ll agree to it or I won’t. I’ll tell you what I won’t do and there is no need to ask me why. I won’t tell you. We might agree on an alternative but you won’t convince me to do something that’s beyond my limits. Just like I will respect your limits. This is based on trust and if one of us can’t respect the rules we’d agreed on, the deal is off. Works for you?”

Andrew looked sideways for a moment, as if to think about it. His gaze found Neil’s once more before he agreed, “Works for me.”

“You can ask me anything. I’m sure this isn’t your usual thing.” It was just another of his lines. In fact, he wasn’t sure at all what was or wasn’t Andrew Minyard’s thing.

“It isn’t,” Andrew said, not that Neil believed it to be true or false. Most strangers would say that. It was expected of them. Only the ones already sure in their role and used to doing this kind of thing would correct him at this point. Those were the easy ones.

“Any questions then? So far, I mean.”

“Yes. Can we do this some place else?” Neil was suddenly aware that people had noticed them –or Andrew’s Maserati more likely –and had stopped down the street to watch them. He could see one young women fumbling for her phone. He had no desire to end up on pictures or videos.

“Yes,” he agreed, suddenly very eager to get away from here. He had instinctively turned away from the onlookers but kept glancing back over his shoulder, even though he told himself not to. They were too far away to get a decent shot of them. This wasn’t good. This was a bad idea. Andrew Minyard meant publicity, it meant fans and a lot of attention. This was against his rules.

“Get in,” Andrew told him. He was already in the driver’s seat. Neil hadn’t seen him move, too absorbed in his own rising fears. Dangerous, his mind told him in a almost sing-song voice. He tsked to himself, annoyed and got in the car. Andrew’s foot hit the gas and the car lurched forward. Two of the onlookers barely got out of their way, too busy taking shots and videos of the black car. Andrew didn’t even spare them a glance in the rearview mirror.

Well shit, why the hell had he gotten into the car? Did you call that a leap of faith or a lapse of judgement?

They ended up in an empty parking lot of a hardware store. Andrew had gotten out of the car and Neil had followed him. The goalkeeper lit another cigarette and leaned back against his car, while Neil claimed a piece of concrete wall to sit on, leaving three paces between them.

“If we do this,” Andrew began, “it won’t be a one time thing.”

“I got no problem with that,” Neil agreed. He knew Andrew could afford to keep him around for quite some time if he wanted.

“So how does that work? Do I pay you extra to keep you available?” Neil’s lips twisted into a lopsided grin. Available… Nope, Andrew really didn't do these kinds of things. And even if he didn't show it, maybe Andrew Minyard was a little nervous about the whole thing.

“No. We make appointments. I got other clients too.”

“I don’t share my things.” Arrogant bastard, was what Neil’s mind supplied him with in response to that but he kept it for another time.

“I’m neither a thing nor yours. So we should have no problem.” His phone rang and Neal pulled it out of his pocket with some resentment. “Sorry, I have to take this,” he excused himself and answered his phone.

“Hallo? –Ja, ich habe es bekommen.” Neil stood up and paced a little, glancing sideways at Andrew but the goalkeeper didn’t seem to care that Neil wanted to exclude him by switching to another language. Neil listened for a moment, then sighed. “Es ist sin sehr großzügiges Angebot. Aber ich muss leider ablehnen. –Nein. Auf keinen Fall. Keine Feuerspiele. –Es bleibt dabei. –Okay.”¹ And he hung up.

“Client?” Andrew asked disinterested.

“No, landlord,” Neil scoffed. Who else would call him? And Andrew would better not expect him to discuss other clients with him.

“Your landlord wants to burn you?” Andrew sounded amused. A sharp grin twisted his lips upwards on one side. It looked even harsher in the artificial light of the parking lot.

“You speak German?” Stupid question, Andrew had just proven that he did. He didn’t grace Neil with an answer. Neil cleared his throat. “Anyway –maybe we should move on? Since you heard that, I don’t do fire play. No extensive blood play, I don’t like cutting. Nothing that leaves permanent marks. No other people included in the scenes. This stays between us. –Also, I don’t do videos or pictures.”

Andrew took all of that in. The last part seemed a bit odd. He didn’t ask. He would find out eventually what made Neil tick. He waited a moment, then said, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not here to hurt you. That’s not my thing.” Neil frowned.

“But you knew what people pay me for.” Andrew nodded. “Then what…”

“I came to you because I might hurt you. I’ve got –issues.”

“Because of what happened with your cousin.” It had been on the news and after Andrew had joined the national team, the media had dug the story back up. Andrew Minyard had nearly killed four people after they had attacked his cousin Nicky.

“That among other things.” Andrew let it sink in. He kept his distance and waited, looking for signs that Neil wanted to call it off and leave.

“You went on medication back then.” Neil remembered the details.

“I did,” the goalkeeper confirmed. He left the part out where he went off his medication to play games.

“Do you still take them?” He had a right to know. Neil was no stranger to drugs and he wouldn't tell anyone what they should or shouldn't do but he had a right to know what they took when they were with him, doing things to him, things they wouldn't do sober.

“Self-medicate.” So, drugs then.

“Okay…” Neil said to acknowledge the fact, neither approving or disapproving it. He was still a little bewildered. “Might hurt me how?” His brows furrowed and he leaned back against the wall.

Andrew shrugged. “I black out sometimes. People have told me I’ve attacked them when they tried to wake me up. I also–“ His shoulders and back were tense and Neil could see that Andrew didn't like to talk about this. But he would have to. He said nothing, left the space between them empty for Andrew to fill it with more information and waited for the goalkeeper to continue. “I also don’t have much of experience with…” He made a circular gesture with his hand that included both Neil and himself. “this. Sex. I don’t know how I might react if you push me too far.”

And Andrew knew that ‘too far’ was always so close in his case. He was twenty four and didn't have –couldn’t have a single physical relationship so far. If he did nothing, if he went on like this, he would never be able to.

“I wouldn't push you. If we’d agree on something, I’d respect that. That’s how this works.”

“You keep saying that,” Andrew scoffed. Like it’s easy… “but I’d be the one hurting you. I would go against those agreements.”

“Only if I’d trigger you. Right? So it would still be my fault.” Oh, how Andrew hated this. How he hated that Neil came up with these answers, as if it was okay to do this. As if he wanted to try. As if this could work.

“I’d have to ask you every single step of the way if you would be okay to do something. And you’d have to tell me.” That certainly would make things awkward. Andrew couldn't imagine anyone in a relationship doing this. –But this wasn't a relationship. That was the whole point. He could mess this up because he paid for this.

“Works for me,” Neil agreed.

“And you’d have to ask me.”

“I get that.” He kind of did. Not all of it. How could he? He didn’t know what Andrew was like. If they did this, he would have to find out. He’d like to find out, he realized. This was Andrew Minyard. He had followed his and Kevin’s careers almost religiously. This might not last, this might end sooner than he’d like to –or not. But when was the last time he had really wanted to do something? He lost track of the things he didn't want to do but have to. Wasn’t it worth a try?

Andrew crushed the cigarette below his shoe. He sounded annoyed when he asked, “So, what should I call you? You never told me your name.”

“Whatever you like,” Neil shrugged and wondered if this would add another personality to his collection. Andrew just stared at him and said nothing. The silence dragged on between them for another minute or so. It was Neil who caved first.

“Neil,” he sighed. “You can call me Neil.” Andrew nodded. He stood there with his arms crossed. Even his ankles were crossed while he used his car for support at his back. No, Neil thought, Andrew didn't like the situation at all. Maybe he regretted coming here tonight already. Time to make sure.

“So, Andrew, –do you want to do this? Yes or no?”

Notes:

–what Neil says in German: ¹“Hello? –Yes, I got it. It’s a very generous offer but unfortunately I have to decline. –No. Definitely not. No fire play. –Agreed. –Okay.”

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#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #fanfic #fanfiction #cval madness #lntycm

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