Chapter Text
You're stranger. I'm stranger. Together, we are…strangers.
Andrew breathes shallowly, fighting the urge to shift as his finger hovers over the shutter button. If he's not careful, his breath will fog up the lens in the chilly morning sun. A slight shiver runs through him from lying on the frozen ground, dew soaking through the knees of his jeans. But still, he doesn't move.
The cat is small, striped, and obnoxiously orange. He should be like any other stray Andrew's seen roaming around Palmetto, but for some reason, this particular one has caught his eye.
It's probably because the little shit refuses to be captured on camera.
This shouldn't bother Andrew. He's not some internationally known wildlife photographer with a reputation at stake. No, he's just a freelance photographer on staff for the Palmetto Tribune, a small hometown rag owned by David Wymack and his son, Kevin Day. Well, partially owned by Kevin anyway- most of his time is spent as a personal trainer in Randy's Gym. Which leaves Andrew, Renee, and Dan to pick up the slack.
Speaking of, he's going to be late for their coffee date.
But he can't leave without trying one last time to catch this asshole. For reasons beyond even him, Andrew has made it his own personal vendetta to snap a picture of the stupid thing.
It's not like he needs it for a piece or anything. It's just…a cat. With a fluffy tail. And big, bright eyes. And a little white mark between his ears, white socks on his paws, and every once in a while, he rolls onto his back in the sunlight and lifts those paws in the air, and it's completely-
Well. Obviously, he hates it. Could care less about the stupid thing.
The orange tabby pauses, sitting down on his haunches to lick his paws. He looks up. Through his viewfinder, Andrew watches and swears that the cat stares straight at him. Then he sprints off.
"Damn it!" he snarls, springing up out of his hiding spot behind a couple of trash cans and chasing after the vermin. He is not letting him get away this time.
He's so intent on his prey that he doesn't even bother to look up as the cat rounds the corner of a brick building.
"Oof!"
Andrew's head snaps back as his nose connects with someone's jaw. He stumbles. For a moment, he's blind to everything but the streaks of pain running through his face. Then shapes, colors, and sounds begin to trickle back through.
Due to some sixth sense of self-preservation, he's managed to save his camera, holding the ridiculously expensive item aloft in one hand. The other he uses to pinch his nose in a futile attempt to staunch the blood spilling down the front of his shirt. The nice, light blue button-down shirt that Renee had insisted on him wearing.
For a second, he wryly thinks this is what she gets for forcing him out of his usual black attire. At least none of it has managed to get on his leather jacket.
Unsurprisingly, the cat has disappeared. Again.
Round four goes to the fucker.
"Holy shit, are you all right?" A voice asks him, way too close.
Andrew lurches backward. He swings around and hears a pained grunt as his elbow manages to connect with the person's head, who had apparently been leaning down to inspect his nose.
"Oh fuck!"
Good, Andrew thinks, satisfied by the instant karma of the universe. He turns and gets his first glimpse of the idiot who ran into him.
"Ow," the guy groans, holding a hand to his face. He stares off-handedly at Andrew with his one good eye. His one, brilliantly blue eye. Blue like a robin's egg or a summer day sky or forget-me-nots. Which are apropos since Andrew will never forget the color of that eye for the rest of his life. Even if he wanted to.
The man has a burn mark on his face, knife slashes on his cheek, and scars on his hands. His hair is like the evening sunset, all dark oranges and deep reds infused into bunches of curls. Even his eyelashes are tinged with the stunning color. They flutter slowly as he focuses back on Andrew, those electric irises filled equally with annoyance and humor.
Andrew immediately wants to throw him off a cliff.
"Well, if this is the alternative, I understand why people settled on handshakes." The guy grins, and Andrew wants to punch him in the face for real this time.
"Your own fault for not watching where you're going, asshole," is what he settles for instead. He growls the words, his tone biting and caustic as he allows his usually restrained emotions to rise to the surface. He feels flustered and off-balance.
"Where I'm going?" The guy's tone is incredulous. "You ran into me!"
Ridiculous. A completely unfounded accusation.
Andrew scoffs and tells him so. "If you had just watched where your stupid feet were going-"
"You sprinted full-speed out of an alleyway-"
"-then you wouldn't have interrupted a critical piece I'm working on-"
"-and ran into me for no damn reason at all-"
"-which will likely never be completed now thanks to your interference."
The redhead just stares at him for a moment in disbelief. "Who the hell are you?"
"Who the hell are you?" Andrew snaps back at him.
"I asked you first, dipshit."
Andrew grits his teeth. If his hands weren't so occupied with saving his stupid camera and holding his stupid nose, he'd have whipped out his knives by now. "I've never seen you before."
"That's because I just moved here," the man rolls his eyes. "What the hell do you care?"
"It's my town," Andrew snarls.
"Oh, my apologies," his voice drips with sarcasm. "Didn't see your name on it."
"Well, we've already established you have a vision problem since you ran into me. Guess I'm not surprised you can't read either."
The guy flashes his teeth, the smile a bit too saccharine. "And thanks to your attempted blinding, I highly doubt there'll be a chance for improvement."
"A shame," Andrew deadpans, rolling his eyes. Damn drama queen. He doesn't have time for this. "I'll just have to hope you can count instead. Take three steps to the side, and we'll never have to see each other again."
"Promise?" the other man quips. "I find that highly unlikely in such a small town, Mr. Palmetto."
"Then you underestimate me, Polyphemus."
For a moment, the man stares at him, his eyes widening. At first, Andrew thinks this is because he's confused. After all, why would an idiot like him ever recognize a reference to The Odyssey?
But then he mutters, almost under his breath, “Οὖτις ἐμοί γ᾽ ὄνομα: Οὖτιν δέ με κικλήσκουσι μήτηρ ἠδὲ πατὴρ ἠδ᾽ ἄλλοι πάντες ἑταῖροι.”
Oh.
Greek flows off his tongue like ambrosia, honeyed words that ensnare Andrew's attention without even trying.
It takes him two tries to swallow before he hears bells chiming in the distance from the old watchtower, signifying the hour. Fuck, he's late.
He rapidly pulls himself together. He doesn't have time for this annoying, unfairly attractive, frustrating man with his golden tongue.
Screw the niceties.
"Just keep out of my way," he snaps once before pushing past the guy.
He starts walking down the street towards Fernweh, staring down anyone who passes him with a beady eye. Unsurprisingly, people give him a wide berth. But it takes only one unintentional glance in a store window to realize that the guy is following him.
Andrew is not subtle with his discovery. "Stop following me," he snaps. He doesn't bother turning around, but he knows the man understands the statement's addressed to him.
"I'm not following you!"
"Then pick some other street to walk on."
"Palmetto only has one main street, dumbass."
"Drawn up your escape routes already?" Andrew retorts.
"A good idea if everyone's as hostile as you in this town," he fires back.
Andrew nearly snorts at that statement. There's no one like him in this town.
His cousin's coffee shop is just ahead, though, so he doesn't bother responding. He merely slips the strap of his camera onto his shoulder so that it's tucked safely behind his back before he reaches towards the door. A scarred hand reaches out and grabs it before he has the chance to.
Of course they're going to the same place.
Andrew glares as the annoying man holds the door open for him, now sporting two blue eyes, one already swelling and developing a beautiful shiner. Then he walks through, the other guy close behind him.
Their arrival makes waves in the small shop.
"Andrew!" Nicky, his cousin, rushes over, hands flailing like birds at all the blood covering the front of his shirt. "Are you all right? Aaron, get over here! Oh my god, this is so much blood, oh, god, I might faint-"
His stalker lifts an eyebrow. Whether this is in response to finally hearing Andrew's name or Nicky's response, Andrew's not quite sure.
"Is it vital? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up? Are you having trouble breathing? Wait! Are you drawing your last breaths? Oh my god, you're too young! They say parents should never have to bury their children -how could you do this to me- there is still so much to do, so much to say, I mean, I only got back a few years ago, and we haven't discussed your dreams, and you haven't met the love of your life yet or even had s-"
Andrew slaps his clean hand over his cousin's mouth.
There are three things to know about Nicky: he's highly sensitive, wildly inappropriate, and unrepentantly gay.
Andrew is only able to tolerate one of these things.
"Shut up, Nicky. It's just a nosebleed." He says now in German to placate his cousin before an even bigger scene can be made. He removes his hand. "It's not a big deal."
He tries to glance slyly at the guy next to him to see if he has any reaction to the language. After all, the man sounded like he spoke Greek flawlessly. But his face only has a polite smile on it and a somewhat confused look as he stares between the two of them.
Andrew almost sighs with relief.
"Of course it's a big deal, cousin," Nicky sniffs. "If you die, then I'll be the only gay one in the family, and Aaron will be insufferable at holidays with all of his hetero-ness."
Andrew rolls his eyes.
Then Nicky gasps theatrically and stares at Andrew's unwitting companion. "Neil? Oh no, you too? What happened to your eye?"
Now it's Andrew's turn to lift an eyebrow. At Neil.
"Neil!" A tall man shouts and rushes over. "Are you okay? What happened? Did something happen? Was there an accident? Do you need help? Tell me if you need something!"
Andrew barely manages to stop another eye roll.
Matthew Boyd-Wilds, owner of Randy's Gym and real-life Teddy Bear, has obviously adopted Neil as a stray. He's six foot two and could crush a man with his bare hands but is essentially made of jelly and fluff. He's been annoyingly cheerful and friendly since the day Andrew moved to Palmetto. Andrew usually avoids him like the plague.
As soon as he reaches them, Matt swamps Neil with a gigantic hug. Curiously, Andrew notices Neil freeze for a moment before he pats Matt's back awkwardly. "I'm fine, Matt."
"You are not fine," Matt tuts, stepping back and observing Neil's shiner with a critical eye. "We need to get something on this."
"Here," Aaron slaps a bag of ice into Matt's hand and keeps moving until he stops in front of Andrew.
It's like looking in a mirror. Minus the blood. (Today, anyway).
His twin hovers his hands in front of Andrew's face, waiting for his slight nod before brushing Andrew's hand away. He looks at Andrew's nose clinically, pressing gentle fingers around it until he nods, satisfied. "It's not broken. Ice and pain relievers should do the trick."
"So glad you went through four years of medical school to give me that diagnosis," Andrew drawls. "Any other obvious observations you'd like to make? Like the grass is green? Or coffee is hot?"
Aaron flips him off. Then he goes back to the table where Katelyn, his wife, is sitting.
The bell rings behind them before a female voice snaps, "Move, assholes, before I shove my 3-inch heels into your ball sacs!"
Allison then.
The boutique shop owner is normally irritating, but she can be downright excruciating before she has caffeine in her system. With hair perfectly coiffed, makeup expertly done, and a short skirt that sits high on her well-toned legs, she struts through the group before pausing next to Neil.
"Hmm, fresh meat," she purrs, grabbing his chin in one hand and pushing her sunglasses up. Neil wrenches it out of her grip. "Bit of foundation will cover that up in no time, kid." She spares a glance at Andrew. "I'd say I'm surprised, but…" She just shrugs. Then she snaps at Nicky, "Macchiato, two pumps hazelnut, shot of espresso. Now, Klose. Before I shove your head under the steamer."
"In a minute, Allison," Nicky says, not even blinking at the threat.
Andrew supposes that's his doing. After living with the twins for six years while they finished out high school and college, anyone would become desensitized to threats on a regular basis.
"Who could have done something like this to you?" Nicky croons now, his hands capturing Neil's pretty face and turning it this way and that. Again, Neil slips out of Nicky's grasp, shuffling the ice bag Matt forced on him into his other hand.
It's amazing to Andrew how many people have touched Neil within the last five minutes, even though he clearly indicated he doesn't want to be grabbed. Andrew would have shoved a knife in someone's neck by now. His hands itch to do it anyway.
He also notices how Nicky doesn't ask him the same question.
"Someone who hates him?" Dan quips, walking up to the group. She's only a few inches taller than Neil, with dark brown skin and tight ebony curls that are cropped close to her head. She's tough, direct, and capable. Things that Andrew can respect.
She holds out a hand to Neil, who pauses for a second before taking it. "Dan Boyd-Wilds. Palmetto Tribune editor and women's lacrosse team coach at the high school."
"And my wife," Matt grins, holding his hands out proudly as if to showcase her. "Isn't she amazing?"
Dan rolls her eyes before shooting a grin at Neil. "It's nice to finally meet you, Neil."
Finally? Andrew narrows his eyes at Neil. Didn't the man say he just moved here?
"Wait, wait, wait, Dan- how could you even think that someone hates Neil?" Nicky gasps, returning to the conversation with Allison's cup of coffee in his hand. Andrew eyes it enviously. "Look at him! He's like a lost puppy!"
Andrew snorts. More like a feral cat. Or maybe a rabid raccoon.
"I've heard the stories from college," Dan smirks. "You just haven't been on the receiving end of his mouth yet, Nicky."
Nicky winks lasciviously at Neil at that statement.
Neil ignores him. "Well, the only person who hates me here so far is him, so…" He jerks a thumb in Andrew's direction, and just like that, Andrew has four pairs of eyes glaring at him.
Matt bristles. "Wait, the two of you? That's how this happened?"
"Andrew!" Nicky chides, his tone disappointed. "How could you!"
"No, wait a minute, guys," Neil frowns, holding his hands out in front of him. "I was just joking, it's not really like that-"
"Should have known," Allison rolls her eyes. "Not a good day unless blood is spilled, eh Monster?"
Dan rubs at her brow. "Come on, Andrew, we've talked about this."
"Seriously, I mean it, it was an accident-" Neil tries again.
"This isn't okay, Andrew," Matt says hotly now. "You can't pick fights with someone just because you feel like it."
"But… you've been talking with Bee and everything for ages," Nicky says in German, crestfallen. "I thought things were better?"
"Andrew doesn't give a shit, you know that Matt. Some people just like to see the world burn," Allison smiles nastily at him.
"Stop it! Right now," Neil shouts over the group. They fall silent. Neil glares at them. "Andrew and I ran into each other by accident a couple blocks from here. It was stupid, and happenstance and nobody meant to do anything. So stop accusing him."
Resentment blooms beneath Andrew's skin. He does not need this asshole to defend him.
"Feel better about yourself?" he sneers now. "Defending the little guy?"
"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but since you started with the short jokes," Neil returns. "Just giving you a helping hand, although it looks like you could use another foot."
Nicky immediately snickers before slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle it.
"I don't need your help," Andrew snaps. He doesn't need anyone's help. He is not a thing to be helped. "You don't know me. Given the chance, I might have done that anyway." He points at the bruise around Neil's eye with a shaky finger.
"But you didn't," Neil says, staring at him steadily. "I mean, you did, but you didn't mean to. Not this time, anyway. So you shouldn't be treated as if you did."
As the others stare guiltily at him, Andrew is suddenly fighting to catch his breath. There's a rage burning inside of him that he hasn't felt since his college days. It makes him feel tongue-tied and hot, his hands fisting at his side. He's about to open his mouth and let everyone know exactly where they can shove their opinions- especially Neil- when Kevin arrives.
Jesus, has everyone in Palmetto decided to show up at this café this morning?
"Why the hell are you guys blocking the door-oh! Neil Josten, right? You're the one I see running every morning," Kevin narrows his eyes at Neil. "What's your average mile time?"
Of course he's a runner, Andrew thinks. Explains the legs, which even he can see are well-defined behind those awful jeans.
Neil blinks before raising an eyebrow. "Four minutes."
Kevin's eyes nearly bug out of his head. "Four min- you know, you should come down to the gym sometime-"
"He's not joining your Mud Run, Kevin," Andrew cuts him off because he's aggravated and knows precisely where this is going. "Don't even bother."
"How do you know-" Kevin snaps, turning before he realizes who the voice is coming from. "Andrew," he nods, then looks down at Andrew's shirt and frowns. "Why does your shirt have blood on it?"
"Because I killed someone," Andrew says, deadpanned.
Kevin nods. "Surprised it took this long."
Andrew feels the icy stab of that comment jam between his ribs and twist. He remains silent, though - he should have expected it, after all.
Kevin steps up to Nicky's counter. "I'll take a green goddess smoothie with an extra shot of vitamin C, Nicky."
"Right away, your Majesty," Nicky rolls his eyes as he traipses back behind it.
Kevin turns back to Neil. "We'll talk about this later. Swing by the gym, and we can figure out conditioning exercises."
Neil looks confusedly at Andrew. Andrew is over all of this. "If it satisfies the court," he starts, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm going to sit down now." And he walks away from the group before anyone can answer.
He crosses the café to where he can see Renee is seated. "Andrew," she smiles before tilting her head. Her eyes flicker down to his blood-stained shirt. "Are you all right?"
Andrew just gives a gruff nod.
Satisfied, she continues, "I got you a hot chocolate, but I'm afraid it might be cold at this point."
"Do you still have time to meet?" Andrew asks because out of all of them, he knows how busy Renee is. She may be a part-time reporter for the Tribune, but she also owns the bookstore attached to Nicky's coffee shop, on top of being the local charity organizer. How she manages to fit it all in is beyond Andrew.
"Stephanie is watching the store, so I'm good for now," she smiles. Then she raises a sly eyebrow. "I see you've met Neil."
Andrew scowls and takes a cold sip of his hot chocolate. Then he thinks of how Nicky had casually addressed him, how Matt had sought him out, how Dan had used the word finally. "How do you know him?"
Where had this guy come from?
"Well," Renee pauses and puts a finger on her chin to think. "He apparently was Matt's old roommate from college. That's how Dan, Allison, and I knew about him. But then, at the last meeting, Matt gave a little introductory spiel about him moving here, and Kevin, Nicky, Aaron, and Katelyn met him last week."
Great. So everyone knew about Neil Josten except for Andrew. And no one had bothered to inform him. Typical.
As if she could read his mind, Renee tilts her head and says, "You could always come to the village meetings, Andrew. You know you're always welcome."
Though he can tell her tone is mildly chiding, Andrew feels spiteful. Though he's been here longer than both Nicky and Aaron, he's never really felt part of the community. Why should he start now? Not when someone like Neil can come in and be welcomed into the group in minutes.
Besides, it's not like he cares. He could give two shits what the others think of him. And that includes Neil.
"Okay, now that we're all here, let's get started, shall we?" Dan says, sliding into her seat with a large mug in her hands. She frowns momentarily at Andrew. "Are you sure you don't want to get cleaned up first, Andrew? I mean, it's only September, so it's a bit early for Halloween…"
She motions jokingly to the blood covering his face and chest. Andrew stares blankly back at her.
She sighs. Then she moves on. "Okay, so I got your piece last night, Renee, about the new construction at the high school-"
They dive into various articles and topics that are coming up for their latest edition. Dan and Renee do most of the talking, as per usual, with Andrew only adding his piece when necessary. (He also uses the time to clean his face up with the wet wipes Renee slips him – but only because he gets tired of tasting blood in his cocoa). Then they start talking about ideas for their Community section.
"We should highlight some of the fall events that we have going on around town," Renee says thoughtfully. "It's a nice way for the community to come back together after the summer holidays, with school starting back up. Plus, there are so many activities available that I'm not sure everyone knows they're even there."
"Fall events?" pipes up a voice behind them, sounding slightly confused. Andrew doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Neil. Apparently, he and Matt grabbed a table close by them. "Like what?"
"Oh, you know, like pumpkin carving, corn mazes, hayrides," Dan rattles off a few things haphazardly. Then she frowns as Neil continues to look at her blankly. "You know, stuff you only do during autumn and around Halloween." She pauses when she gets no response. "You've done these kinds of things before, right, Neil?"
Slowly, Neil shakes his head.
Matt looks like someone just broke his favorite toy in front of him. "What about bobbing for apples? Or haunted houses? Or dressing up? Or-" He stops at Neil's insistent shaking of his head. Matt's mouth drops open. "This is a crime!"
"What is? Neil's outfit?" Nicky asks, popping over with Kevin and Allison. "Because no offense, Neil, but you should probably just burn those jeans."
Allison snickers.
Neil frowns, looking down at his offensive, faded, too-large jeans with their unintentional rips.
Privately, Andrew agrees, but his head has suddenly gotten stuck on the mental image of Neil slowly dragging the rough denim down his slim, muscular thighs and revealing what lies beneath. Disgusted with himself, he digs his nails into the skin under his armband to refocus.
"We were just learning that Neil has never done costumes for Halloween before. Or apparently anything fall-related," Dan quips.
Nicky gasps. "Never?"
Allison turns and looks at Neil. "Sheltered much?"
"Something like that," Neil murmurs.
Dan snaps her fingers. "That settles it! We'll do a feature series highlighting all the fun fall events available around town. We'll go to each of them, write up a review, and then Neil can try all the things he's missed."
"Yes! Count me in!" Matt grins.
"Me too!" says Nicky.
"Why the hell not," Allison shrugs.
"This actually sounds kind of fun," Katelyn says from a few tables over. "Do you mind if Aaron and I join?"
"Of course, the more, the merrier," Renee smiles.
Aaron grumbles from his seat.
"It sounds like a colossal waste of time," Kevin frowns.
"Well, if Neil's there, it'll give you more opportunities to try and convince him to join your Mud Run," Dan shrugs her shoulders innocently.
Neil scowls at her.
Kevin thinks on this a moment more. "Fine. I'm in."
Andrew stares at Neil as he watches the group chat back and forth, making plans. He looks strangely apathetic for someone who has just been steamrolled into doing a series of activities with a group he barely knows. Maybe he's just desperate to make friends in a new place. Or perhaps he's one of those social types who doesn't care what they're doing as long as they're with others.
Either way, it means that he fits in, sliding his piece into the puzzle like there's always been one missing. Like he deserves to be there and should have been all along. It means he's nothing like Andrew. And he's not sure why this is a disappointing thought.
"Great!" Dan claps her hands together. "We'll start with the pumpkin-carving contest next weekend. Everyone be there at ten am sharp."
"No."
All eyes in the room turn to stare at him. He crosses his arms.
"Andrew," Nicky whines. "Why not?"
"Because I said so."
Dan rolls her eyes at him. "Come on, Andrew. We need you there to take pictures."
"Take pictures with your phone."
"You know it's not the same! And besides, that's what Wymack pays you for!"
It's a valid point. Though Wymack gives Andrew full credit for his photos, he only gets paid for the ones that are actually used. And while he's pretty sure Wymack overpays him for each shot he provides, it's also definitely not enough to pay the bills. Which means it's not like Andrew can really turn this down.
Andrew stews over this. He knows Dan's right, but he's also petty, stubborn, and contrary at heart. He won't let himself be manhandled like Neil was, and they should do well to remember it. Even if it does mean he'll be eating peanut butter and jelly for the next week.
So he stands up, looks Dan straight in the eye, and simply says it one more time. "No."
Then he leaves the shop, the bell tinkling behind him as the door closes.