Chapter Text
Andrew knows, objectively, that it's just a small fight. Quarrel, really. Squabble. Minor Disagreement. But. But, but, but.
The last time he had an argument with someone, he was left all alone, standing in the rain, trying to convince himself that the twisted feeling in his chest was anger, not sadness. (It wasn't, it really wasn’t).
And the time before that. And the time before. And before that time.
So, objectively speaking, Andrew knows that it’s just a small fight, but Andrew isn’t one of the people blessed by the goddess of luck and Neil is. Interesting.
Neil is the one thing that seems to have caught his interest and managed to keep it. It’s nothing really, the “thing” between them, as Nicky puts it. It’s Neil’s hand buried in Andrew’s hair and his own lips biting Neil’s. It’s a way to spend the nights, tangled in his sheets with Neil and exchanging secrets and the occasional cigarette with the redhead. It’s being the only person Neil notices in a crowded room (and if Neil is also the only person who Andrew doesn’t exactly want to not be around then. Well, Andrew doesn’t care enough about what people think. Let them perceive shit as they wanna).
So, objectively speaking, Andrew knows that it’s just a small fight, but Andrew isn’t one of the people blessed by the goddess of luck and Neil is interesting and Andrew hates change and cannot be fucked to find someone else to jerk off in the backroom of Eden’s. Yeah, that’s all. No other reason. None at all.
This is why he finds himself opening and closing Neil’s contact on his phone, trying to come up with the proper words to greet someone with after you almost threw the same phone at them the night before.
Last night was just the case of wrong place, wrong time. Andrew was… slightly bothered (not mad, he didn’t care enough to be angry) by Neil defending him after another passing ‘Monster’ comment from Allison. Andrew didn’t care. If anything, the name worked in his favour. It kept people away, fewer people equalled fewer problems. He already had his hands full with Nicky, Aaron and Kevin. He didn’t need any more people to babysit. If Allison got off on calling him that name then he really couldn't get himself to be bothered. But Neil. Stupid, knife tongued, devil eyed Neil with his piercing gaze and sharp words. Neil Josten just couldn’t shut up and not draw attention to himself. For someone who spent 90% of his life trying to be as plain and boring as possible, he sure is terrible at it. Andrew hates how much he likes Neil when he is like this. He didn't need defending, especially from Neil. He didn’t need Neil to drive Allison to the edge by running that goddamn mouth of his. He had left before he could do something absolutely ridiculous, i.e. either kill him or kiss him. Neil had turned up at his doorstep later that night, fuming and obviously mad at the morning's events.
“I don’t need you to play knight in shining armour”, was the first thing Andrew had told him, just to have something to do with his mouth other than pulling Neil into a kiss.
Neil’s frown had deepened at that, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrow.
“Someone needs to”, Neil huffed, pushing past the half-closed door and into Andrew’s living room.
And that. That just drove Andrew over the edge. The fact that Neil had made sure not to accidentally touch Andrew while he forced his way into his home, even when he was angry. Andrew knew he didn't deserve someone like that. Drake was a chapter-long closed but the lessons he had taught Andrew about trust had always stuck with him. He knew it was better not to put so many expectations on someone because it would only end up with him getting hurt and disappointed. Aaron, Cass, every single foster home had taught him that very thing. Yet Neil was there, an anomaly, a pipe dream right out of Andrew's imagination. He hated that Neil understood him without words or convincing of any sort. He hated how Neil seemed to override every wall, every rule in Andrew’s life without making Andrew feel unsafe and that itself was a threat to Andrew.
He had turned to Neil and told him to fuck off with his savour complex. Words were exchanged in heated fervour, and Andrew had thrown his phone in Neil's general direction, demanding him to get out of his sight. Neil had frozen up at the words. (The sudden silence had dug its sharp claws into Andrew’s chest, and it was only in the morning that Andrew had found it bleeding with longing for a certain someone). He promptly left after, not even banging the door as he left Andrew behind without so much as a protest. If anything, it infuriated Andrew further, Neil’s understanding. He had stormed off to Bee’s, so he could spend the evening drinking hot chocolate and ranting about how Neil Josten was the biggest problem in his life. Bee, bless her, had borne Andrew’s tantrum solemnly, smiling and nodding appropriately. It was only when he was leaving that Bee had smiled knowingly at him at her doorway and told him “Unresolved fights do more damage than confrontation”. And that. That is why Andrew is here, at 12:03 pm, typing and deleting words in his and Neil's private chat box.
He sees Neil come online and then go offline again. Then online again, bubbles appear on the bottom left of Andrew’s screen. Andrew imagines Neil sitting at the edge of his own bed, just like Andrew, shoulders tense, one leg bouncing anxiously. Mirror images. Brackets closing around a clause that was their… situation. Neil goes offline again and Andrew thinks ‘fuck it’ and calls him. Neil picks up immediately, breathing a “Hey” into the speaker that sounds dangerously coloured with relief.
“Talk?”, is all Andrew says in the end.
“After practice? Kevin and I are gonna try and come up with some new drills for the new recruits this afternoon. Wanna join us?”
“Yes. No. Bye”, Andrew cuts the call. He can now imagine Neil smiling into the phone, shoulders sagged, leg bouncing in anticipation. He hates it. So he turns the TV on and watches Friends and throws a kernel of popcorn at the screen every time they make a gay joke at Chandler’s expense. He’s halfway through his third bowl when there’s a knock at the door.
Andrew shuts the TV and opens the door, one hand still holding the half-full bowl of caramel popcorn.
And there, in all his sweaty glory, stands Neil Josten, still wearing the stupid exy helmet for some reason. Andrew levels him with a look till Neil shrugs it off, shaking his damp curls, making Andrew feel disgusting emotions.
“Kevin forced it on me in case you throw something else at me. He says I don’t need to add a black eye to the things reporters will comment on during the press meet.”. Neil explains, making his way in.
He turns to Andrew and says, flustered, “I didn't tell him about last night, he just heard the thud.”
“Don’t care,” Andrew says, closing the door and turning to face Neil.
“You could have showered”, he says, because he doesn't know where else to begin.
Neil smiles sheepishly. “Yeah… could have.”
There's a moment of tense silence before Andrew says “We should talk.”
Neil sobers up and says, “Ok, let's talk”
And Andrew doesn’t know what to say. He never expected to get this far honestly. He has NEVER gotten this far, no one has ever made the effort to communicate or sort through the shit because, well, he guesses no one cared enough to.
But here is Neil with his stupid exy helmet and genuine blue eyes ready to make the effort and all Andrew can think of is-
“Stay”, Andrew blurts out. Neil’s eyes widen in surprise and he feels his own do the same.
They both blink in awkward shock before Neil flashes him a smile and says, “Ok”
And that’s that. Andrew takes a step forward, the question clear in his eyes. Neil’s smile widens and he nods.
Well, That’s that.