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The house in Colombia has become a sort of haven that Andrew had never expected it to be. He will never admit to how his shoulders loosen half an inch when he locks the door behind his people and how he sleeps more easily in his room.
Since the visit from Nathaniel Wesninski, the Junior Butcher, he’d lost that security. The folded piece of white paper nailed to the front door by a stiletto knife is not helping matters.
“Don’t touch it,” Andrew snaps at Nicky, who was reaching out to touch the handle with a confused furrow between his brows. Nicky flinches back and lets Andrew slip in front of the group to get a good look at it.
He slides his fingers over the hilt and slowly pulls it loose, snatching the stiff white paper into his hand. A Japanese character is printed on the front in neat black font just below the hole that has been punched through it by the blade.
Kevin makes a choking sound when he catches sight of it and scrambles back down the porch, backing up until his legs hit the hood of the car.
Andrew flicks the paper open with his pointer finger. A phone number has been scribbled inside, along with the words “call me?” Andrew stares at the cartoon bunny that has been doodled on the corner. It winks up at him, its tongue poking out as it holds up a peace sign.
Andrew’s left eye twitches, and the note creases beneath his fingers.
“Get in the car,” Andrew grits out, not turning his head to his family as he stares down at the card.
“Andrew-” Nicky tries.
“Now,” Andrew says.
Nicky glances at Aaron, but his twin has already turned and made for the car.
“Andrew— it’s him, it has to be him. I don’t—” Kevin is babbling.
Andrew tunes out the rest of his words, pulling his phone from his pocket. He doesn’t need to look at the card again to type in the number. It’s already been burned into his brain.
Andrew pushes into the house slowly, closing the door behind him as he raises the phone to his ear.
The line rings once.
“Well, that was quick,” Nathaniel muses. His voice is husky and low in Andrew’s ear, a hint of amusement tinting his tone.
“If you come into this house again, I’ll skin you,” Andrew says, voice perfectly even.
A snort. “Someone’s pissy. I haven’t been in your house.” A pause. “Well, not today anyway. And that was only your cousin’s bedroom.”
“Why should I believe you?” Andrew asks. He ascends the stairs, making sure the doors to the bedrooms are closed.
“I suppose you shouldn’t,” Nathaniel admits. “I’ll tell you what, if you give me ten minutes of your time, I’ll never go into the house again without your permission.”
Andrew pauses in front of his door. Had he heard….
“You're in the house now,” Andrew says, fury making the phone squeak beneath the pressure of his clenched fingers.
“No. But I am on the roof.”
Andrew opens the door, eyes immediately drawn to the open window. The curtains flutter as a night breeze whispers through the room, bringing the muffled sound of traffic with it.
Andrew walks to the window and meets the eyes of Nathaniel Wesninski.
He looks the same as the last time Andrew saw him, except for the fact that his lip has healed over and the bruise on his cheek has faded to a faint yellow. His hair is still dark and shaggy, falling in loose curls over jewel-bright eyes. He almost looks normal, the blood cleaned from his face, and dressed in a loose hoodie and leggings instead of a suit.
He’s got the phone pressed to his ear and a cigarette in his other hand. He’s sitting facing away from the window, but looks over his shoulder when he hears footsteps. He grins when Andrew comes into his line of sight, the expression lazy and slow. Andrew notes the dimples in his cheeks, the way the moonlight hits his defined cheekbones, and hates him immediately.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
Nathaniel’s grin simmers down to a slight smile, and he hangs up the phone.
“I’m not in your house.” His voice is different in person, more solid and quieter when it’s not right against his ear. “And it’s your cousin's and his German boyfriend’s name on the lease, not yours.”
“Get. Off. The. House.”
“What, you want me to jump off the roof?”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel’s smile blooms into a grin again, and he laughs, sounding startled. He spins on his ass and leans back. Andrew feels his stomach swoop at the movement, half convinced the man is going to go rolling off the edge of the roof. Though Andrew might enjoy the sight of his brains splattered across the floor.
But Nathaniel doesn’t fall off the roof. Instead, he scoots closer to the window.
“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot—”
“No,” Andrew snaps, pulling a knife from his armband easily. Nataniel’s eyes flick down to the blade, and his lips twitch, which only makes Andrew even angrier. “Get off the roof before I gut you.”
“Oh, come on, Minyard. I come in peace, okay? Look, I even brought a gift!” Natahniel pulls a single red rose out from behind his back. He extends his arm toward Andrew as if to hand it to him. Andrew glares at him.
“No.”
“Not a fan of red?”
Andrew glares harder.
Nathaniel’s grin finally drops, a more serious look settling onto his face. He sighs a bit, shoulders falling back as he leans away from the window.
“Look, I’m— I’m being serious, okay, I fucked up before, I shouldn’t have broken into your house. This is your space and I know– well I know know anyway– that you’re uh—” he hesitates. “Protective.”
The genuine uncertainty in his voice stalls Andrew’s instinctual rejection.
“I didn’t have time to scope out who was protecting Kevin, which was obviously a mistake,” he meets Andrew’s eyes and squares his shoulders. “I know you work on deals. I need your help, and I’m willing to bargain for it.”
It’s a good setup. Nathaniel is good at talking. He’s giving Andrew the advantage in their negotiations. Or at least he’s acting like Andrew has the advantage.
“Talk,” Andrew grits out.
“Kevin is under surveillance by both branches,” Nathaniel starts bluntly. “Riko is kicking up a storm big enough to catch his brother’s attention, and we need some… insurance.”
Andrew stiffens. “What kind of insurance?”
“I’ve been sent to keep him safe and out of trouble. I need to be as close to him as possible for as often as possible without alerting… others to where I am.”
Andrew blinks. That is not what he’d been expecting. He’d expected the Moriyamas to demand Kevin be returned. For him to take his rightful place as property.
“Kevin was telling the truth then. Ichirou really does want his brother taken care of.”
Nathaniel’s face goes completely blank for a split second. His eyes shudder, and his mouth goes flat.
A vacant smile appears just as quickly.
“You know a lot of things,” Nataniel says softly, “that could get you killed.”
The hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck stand on end
“But, yes, the Lord is very invested in your little bird’s well-being.”
“He doesn’t need your protection.”
Nathaniel’s smile turned a touch warmer, and he leaned forward to brace his forearms on the windowsill, the rose still clutched in his hand.
“You can keep Kevin safe… from Riko. Not from the people from my world.”
“The people from your world would care about Kevin?”
Nathaniel smiles that vacant smile.
“You know a lot of things that could get you killed.”
Andrew switches gears. “And why would I let you anywhere near him?”
Nathaniel straightens up. “I told you: I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “I can get you what you want.”
“I want nothing.”
Nathaniel’s eyes flash, and there’s far too much understanding in his expression for Andrew’s comfort, but Nathaniel doesn’t comment on it.
“I can get you off the drugs.” Andrew stills. “I’ve looked into them, I just need to pull a few strings, and I can get you into a safe facility. You’ll be out and sober within two weeks.”
Andrew’s brain stutters and starts, struggling to conceptualize what this means. No drugs, but he leaves Kevin unguarded. No drugs, but he breaks his deals. He can’t even consider it…
Before he can open his mouth to refuse, Nathaniel continues.
“Of course, I would protect your people while you're gone. I could even make it so you can talk to them over the phone while you're inside. Just so you know, they’re fine.”
Andrew stares at him, for once completely at a loss for words. This is not the conversation he was prepared to have. He hadn’t prepared for much talking at all if he’s being honest.
Nathaniel keeps smiling that stupid smile and places the rose on the windowsill.
“You don’t have to make a decision now. That number you have will be good for about two weeks. After that, it’s out of my hands.” He moves to pull away as if he’s about to step right off the roof.
“And what happens when it’s out of your hands?” Andrew asks, eyes narrowing dangerously.
Nathaniel’s smile fades, and he searches Andrew’s face.
“I don’t pretend to have a real choice in my place in the Moriyama empire, Andrew Minyard. Whatever happens, it won’t be me that decides your fate.” He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking toward the front of the house. “Ask Kevin who I am. What I am. Maybe then you’ll understand how little I can help you if you refuse the Lord.”
And then Nathaniel Wesninski stands up and strolls right off the roof. Andrew barely has time to feel his stomach roll before he catches his shadow disappearing behind into their neighbor’s yard.
“What did he say?” Kevin asks when Andrew goes to collect his group from the car. He’s practically hyperventilating already, green eyes wide as he twists his fingers anxiously.
Andrew smiles humorlessly, watching Kevin react to the expression with some satisfaction. “I think it’s time you tell me exactly who Nathaniel is. I want to know everything.”
Andrew calls Nathaniel’s number on the last day of the second week.
Nathaniel picks up on the third ring.
“Minyard!” Andrew blinks at the volume, and blinks again when he realizes Nathaniel is shouting over what sounds like gunfire. “I was starting to think you were never going to call me.”
Andrew thinks about asking if this is a bad time, but he’s never been one for politeness. “How exactly do you plan on shadowing Kevin?”
Nathaniel grunts on the other side of the line, and the gunfire sounds louder this time.
“Well, the plan is to join the Foxes. I’ll be Kevin Day’s shiny new striker partner,” he cuts off to let out a string of impressive curses, the sound of skin meeting skin catching the phone microphone. Nathaniel’s voice is a little more strained as he continues, “Anyway, the guy is obsessed with the sport, so I figure he can spend the semester and summer training me. I’m a little rusty.”
There’s a loud crack, and then someone is screaming. It’s not Nathaniel.
“And I’m supposed to trust you not to kill Kevin as soon as you get the chance?”
“The Lord doesn’t want him dead, he’s far too expensive— oh shut up,” Nathaniel snaps. The screaming cuts off abruptly. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. If anyone from our side wanted Kevin dead or back in the Nest, we wouldn’t be doing this song and dance. The only reason I wasn’t sent to force the issue with you in the first place was because it would be a pain in the ass to manage the fallout quietly. That doesn’t mean they won’t use force, it just wasn’t the Lord’s first choice.”
Andrew purses his lips, listening to the strange, violent noises on the other side of the line as he mulls that over. It makes sense, he supposes. And getting sober will make it easier to protect Kevin.
“Fine.”
“It’s like pulling teeth with you,” Nathaniel muses. Another gunshot goes off, and silence falls on the other side of the line, only the sound of Nathaniel’s footsteps reaching Andrew’s ear. “Well, it sounds like we’re in business, Minyard. Don’t call this number again, I’ll contact you.”
And then the line goes dead.
Two days later, the Monsters find a single blue rose sitting in a glass vase on the front porch of the Colombia house. There is a simple black phone set beside it and a note tied to its stem.
When Andrew unfolds it, there is another phone number written in messy script. ‘Rehab in one week, I’ll be in touch.’
The same cartoon rabbit offers him two thumbs up.
Seven months later
They’re all in the loving room, Rupaul’s Drag Race, playing on the TV when what Nicky has dubbed “The Mafia Phone” starts ringing. Andrew grunts around the gummy bears he’s stuffed into his mouth, twisting and arching his back to fish the phone out of his back pocket.
Every head on the couch snaps in his direction, even Aaron, who’s been pretending not to be interested in what’s on the TV, fixes on Andrew’s movements.
“Is that Neil?” Kevin demands. “He better not have been slacking on his precision training, I spent two weeks teaching him those drills and—”
“Can you tell him that I finally made that pinto bean recipe he found for me? It still doesn’t taste like what mom used to make, but—” Nicky interrupts, nearly falling off the couch as he twists to face Andrew.
“Tell him—” Aaron starts.
“Shut up,” Andrews says before he can finish, finally managing to get the phone out from under him.
He’s not sure how he’s allowed his family to get attached to a yakuza member. They’d been terrified of him at the start of Kevin’s first semester at Palmetto, giving the short man a wide berth. Kevin had barely been able to be in the same room with him. That all went downhill when Neil started to argue exy with him, sneaking in with Kevin to night practices. Neil had spent the week before Andrew went to rehab, allowing Kevin to push him around on the exy court, laughing at Nicky’s nervous jokes and poking at Aaron until they could relax around him. He’d given them Neil Josten as his cover name and seemed to prefer it over being called Nathaniel, which seemed to ease Kevin’s mind for some reason.
By the time Andrew had gotten back from rehab, he and Kevin bickered like children, Neil taking swipes at Kevin, which would have made him flinch away before, but now only made him roll his eyes. Nicky took to teaching Neil how to cook since the man was a disaster in the kitchen and babbling to him in Spanish. He hasn’t had anyone to speak the language with since he’d stopped talking to his mother. Aaron and Neil vacillated rapidly between pretending to be indifferent to each other and loud arguing until they were playing wrestling on the floor. Though Andrew thought some of their hits were a little too hard to be entirely friendly. Still, Andrew couldn’t bring himself to worry about it when most of the time the wrestling ended in Neil snickering on the floor while Aaron failed to hide a smirk.
And then there was everything between Andrew and Neil. Andrew wasn’t sure what to make of it. Of the rooftop conversations, their shared truths, and raw understanding. The cigarette smoke and scars. The way Neil allowed Andrew to see his hands shake after Ichirou sent him on a job. The flowers that started became a ritual. Neil would hide in Andrew’s room whenever he came back from a job. He’d run out of different colored roses and switched to a wider variety. Andrew would roll his eyes each time, and Neil would pretend not to notice the journal he’d specifically bought to preserve the delicate petals between the pages.
Sometimes, Neil would have the time to warn them that he would be gone for a job. Sometimes he would disappear for a day or two with no warning and come back quiet and oddly fragile.
This time, Neil managed to give them a heads-up, a frown on his face when he said this one may take a little longer than usual. He’d left a week ago. Andrew would never admit how aware he’d been of the phone burning a hole in his back pocket since he’d left.
“Rabbit,” Andrew greets once he’s managed to hit the answer button.
“Andrew.”
Andrew sits up abruptly. He isn’t sure what is the most unnerving. The way Neil’s voice is tight with pain, the pure relief in his voice, or how heavily Neil is breathing into the phone.
“Neil,” Andrew answers, glancing at his family as they straighten in response to his tone.
“I… I,” Neil makes a strange sound, and Andrew realizes he can hear the sound of an engine running in the background. “Oh fuck Andrew, I fucked up.”
Andrew thinks that might have been a sob underlying Neil’s words.
“Neil, where are you?” Andrew says, getting up and walking to the kitchen because he can’t stand sitting down anymore.
“I… I’m coming to you.” He’s slurring his words. Andrew bites back a curse.
“How long?” he demands. His family has crept into the kitchen, watching him practically vibrate with suppressed rage. He does not pace. He will not pace.
“Ten minutes, I need…” Andrew listens to him struggle with words. “Alcohol, disinfectant, medical stitching if you have it, floss if you don’t, a needle, bandages.”
“Done,” Andrew says.
“Andrew, I’m—”
“Just get here,” Andrew spits out before Neil can do something stupid like apologize.
His family gathers what Neil asked for into the downstairs bathroom, and then they wait on the porch. The silence between them is only broken by the rickets of the night, none of them brave enough to ask Andrew anything as they wait. And wait.
Five minutes later, a black Camaro swerves onto the street and parks crookedly in the driveway. Andrew is off the porch before the car stops. He rips the driver’s door open and catches the body that falls out.
The first thing Andrew notices, strangely enough, is the dress. Cool fabric slides over his palms as he catches Neil around the waist and back. It’s black and barely covers him, the back completely cut out all the way down to the dimples at his lower back. The Teh halter neckline climbs up to his throat, but leaves his freckled shoulder exposed. Andrew only has a second to register all the exposed skin, as the next thing he notices is the cry of pain Neil lets out when Andrew’s arm comes around his back in an attempt to steady him. And the way his hand comes back sticky with blood.
“Nicky! The car!” Andrew barks as he hauls Neil the rest of the way out of the driver’s seat. Andrew doesn’t raise his voice often, so it is unsurprising how Nicky immediately jumps into action, throwing himself into the now unoccupied seat to turn off the engine and grab the keys. Aaron disappears back into the house while Kevin stays back to hold the front door open for Andrew.
Neil lets out a ragged sound, nearly a sob, as the skin of his back stretches. He clings to Andrew’s shoulders, breaths quick and wet.
“I forgot your flowers,” Neil slurs out, voice sounding, of all things, miffed. As if he’d only just realized.
“Shut the hell up,” Andrew snaps, unwilling to start bantering with the fool in his arms. He’s lost so much blood already.
Aaron is in the bathroom already, the door propped open as he pours alcohol on the needle they found at Neil’s request.
Neil drops down onto the toilet cover, knuckles whitening as he grabs onto the sink counter. Both Aaron and Andrew inhale sharply when they finally get a look at Neil’s back.
Neil has been stabbed four times in the back, ugly wounds weeping steadily and staining his skin crimson as the blood seeps into the fabric of his dress.
“Aaron…” Neil starts, and then doesn’t quite manage to finish, breathing heavily at the floor as his eyes squeeze shut in pain. Aaron stares at him, and then his eyes widen in horror.
“No, no fucking way,” he refuses, face paling rapidly as he backs away from Neil.
“Aaron, I need you to do this,” Neil says, voice nearly pleading.
“I can’t– I can’t, Neil–”
“Well, I can't fucking do it when it’s on my back!” Neil snaps. Nicky and Kevin hover near the doorway, both of them going pale at the sight of Neil.
Andrew meets his twin's eyes, and there’s a moment of extended silence. Aaron swallows thickly before grabbing the alcohol and needle again.
“Tell me what to do.”
Neil talks to Aaron through what to do and buries his face in his folded arms on the bathroom counter as the blood loss begins to make him woozy.
Nicky has to leave as the needle enters Neil’s skin for the first stitch. Kevin leaves after Aaron starts on the second wound. Aaron’s hands shake through the whole thing. Andrew never looks away and takes over the process when Aaron loses the fight with his stomach, falling to his knees and vomiting into the bathroom garbage when Andrew takes the needle.
Neil’s torn skin, twitches beneath Andrew’s fingers, warm and wet and altogether something Andrew never wants to experience again.
Neil does his best to muffle the noises he makes into his arm, low groans and hitching whimpers bitten off as Neil’s fingers whiten around the bathroom counter. He slumps when Andrew finally finishes, tense muscles unwinding as he pants into his own skin.
Andrew keeps a hand pressed to his lower back as he drops the needle into the sink, half convinced Neil will topple over the second Andrew steps away.
“You should take him to Nicky’s room,” Aaron croaks out. He’s sitting on the floor next to the trash can. He looks pale and worn, blonde hair disheveled and eyes dark. “I don’t think you can get him upstairs before he passes out.”
“‘M not g’nna pass out,” Neil protests, sounding like he’s going to pass out. “And I can sleep on the couch just fine.”
He drops one of his arms and straightens as much as he can, but he’s still using the counter as a crutch. Andrew takes a moment to really look at him now that he’s not actively bleeding out in their bathroom.
His hair is red, a color Andrew has never seen on him before, the copper curls plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. His blue eyes are bright and lined with black that has streaked down his cheeks like he’s been crying. Blood is smudged down his chin, matching the moroon shade of his lipstick. Gold earrings dangle from his ears, their black stones glittering in the bathroom light. Now that he’s sitting down, Andrew can see the slits running down both sides of the dress that reach his upper thigh and reveal the scraps and bruises covering his legs. Not to mention the black stilettos, straps criss-crossing up his calves, that Andrew has no clue how he managed to walk in. He looks like shit. He looks beautiful.
“Shut up,” Aaron and Andrew say in unison.
Andrew leaves Kevin and Aaron to clean up the bathroom, crouching down to let Neil climb onto his back, despite Neil’s reassurances (read: lies) that he could walk on his own.
Andrew brings him to Nicky’s room, dropping him onto the mattress as gently as possible. Neil rolls onto his stomach so he can slump into the sheets without tearing his stitches open again, his legs sticking out over the edge of the bed.
Andrew stares down at him and sighs, crouching to start taking off the heels. Neil twitches and makes a vague noise of exasperation, but doesn’t stop him.
When he’s done, Andrew rounds the bed to sit by Neil’s head. He lets Neil have a few breaths of silence.
“What happened?”
Neil doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he lets out a quiet sigh, turning his face away from the sheets and toward Andrew.
“I finished the job two days ago. That’s not how I got hurt,” he pauses, brows furrowing as he considers his words. “Ichirou likes to show me off sometimes at these dinner… things.
I dress up in whatever Ichirou wants, and I follow him around as people kiss his ass all night,” Neil’s lips curl in a snarl. “Like a fucking dog.”
Andrew listens silently, as Neil reins himself in again.
“Someone got cocky. Thought they could stab the heir at his own party. I handled it.”
Another long silence. When Neil speaks again, his voice is quiet and shaky.
“Everyone thinks he’s fucking me.”
Andrew closes his eyes and swallows around the lump in his throat.
“Would he?” he asks. Neil lets out a humorless laugh, covering his eyes with his hand.
“I don’t know. He says he only takes willing partners, but… I don’t know, the way he looks at me sometimes…”
Neil sighs.
“God, what the fuck am I doing here, Andrew? A man I’ve known for three years just tried to kill me, and I ran to you,” Neil murmurs. “A man I’ve known for seven months and apparently the only person I trust to literally stitch me back together.”
Andrew feels his heart squeeze. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. Neil has become part of his life and his family’s lives with an ease that scares him, bridging the gaps between each of them that had kept them separate for so long. Andrew doesn’t know what they’ll do when this is over. When Neil’s master drags him back into the shadows, they lose him forever. But for now, Andrew curves a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and tries to hold him together.
Later, Nicky comes into the room with a plate of food and a bottle of Gatorade. He immediately shuts down all of Neil’s attempts to give him back his bed, ignoring Neil’s weak protest that he’s getting his sheets dirty, and demanding he eat. Neil eases himself up into a sitting position, and Andrew can only take ten seconds of watching Neil struggle to lift his limbs without shaking before he takes over to feed Neil himself while Nicky watches from the end of the bed. Kevin and Aaron come after, Aaron with the excuse of checking that Andrew didn’t fuck up Neil’s stitches, while Kevin silently sits in the chair in the corner of Nicky’s room. Neil allows all of it with minimal complaints and falls asleep as soon as he’s finished the plate.
Andrew’s family eventually empties the room, Kevin the last to exit after one more long look at Neil’s sleeping form. They don’t question Andrew’s refusal to leave. Maybe they never expected anything different.
Andrew eventually moves to the chair Kevin once sat in and stares out the window, cursing the Moriyamas through the night.