#but I also feel like it’s Andrew’s favorite pass time to just watch Neil do as Neil does
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Neil as a team captain is positively delightful, because making him captain is both absolutely insane and absolutely brilliant. It capitalizes on the passive effect of having one (1) Neil Josten (god knows the world couldn’t handle if there were more of him) on the team in the most efficient way. Like. I’m 90% sure that after spending some time around him on the same team, most people will look up to him completely awestruck for how much he has impacted their lives, but that’s just not what is actually happening here. I feel like what’s going on is this:
Neil is a terribly amazing choice for team captain entirely because Neil is a meddlesome little asshole who will forcibly fix all of his teammates’ personal problems and improve their entire lives for literally no other reason than that he needs them to be able to focus on fucking ball so he can win at sports. It’s not even that he genuinely cares about people and their well-being (apart from his original foxes). He just gets pissed when things aren’t working properly because it makes Exy annoying when the lineup can’t communicate. Exy isn’t supposed to be annoying. Exy is life. He’d meddle whether he is captain or not, but by making him captain, he has so much more official executive power at his hands. It’s like people are explicitly asking for him to do his worst. So, fueled by his own competitiveness and love for the sport, off he goes.
Neil is just as bad as Kevin when it comes to his Exy obsession. The major difference between them is that Kevin is endlessly tactical and he runs Exy with a focus on a technical and physical level entirely, whereas Neil’s approach is to look beyond a lack of practice and basically psychoanalyzing people on why they are not doing 110% for Exy. Kevin says “let’s run this drill 500 times, then we will inevitably be better”. Meanwhile Neil is scheming how to coerce and bribe people into life-changing decisions and long-needed healing, entirely because he wants to optimize playing a sport. Exy is a team sport, which is why this is the most logical approach his little Exy brain comes up with rather than minding his own fucking business. He looks at the team and is like “is anyone gonna whip this into shape? No?? I’ll fucking do it then cowards” and goes and does exactly that. It’s like he’s fixing the equipment so he can play.
I don’t think anyone except for Andrew is really aware that Neil really isn’t doing this out of the innate goodness of his heart, but because his personal brand of practicality involves the most convoluted and creative kind of scheming. I feel like Neil is a lot more selfish than people give him credit for. Sure, there’s people he cares deeply and unconditionally for, but that’s really not everyone. It’s fascinating to watch, especially because it’s not like he ever hides that he doesn’t particularly care, but people kinda assume he does, because why else would he put in this much effort?
Exy. The answer is Exy.
#Andrew hates him for this#but I also feel like it’s Andrew’s favorite pass time to just watch Neil do as Neil does#you can’t take the meddling out of Neil#first year was Neil meddling on steroids basically bc he thought he was gonna die so he had to optimize Exy to play and had no choice#that’s how he fixed the foxes the first time#but even so#even if he doesn’t care about most of the new foxes or his eventual pro teams as much#I don’t think he will ever stop with this kind of stuff because I’m dead certain he gets so annoyed when exy isn’t exy-ing#that he ends up fixing problems the majority of people would not be able to eben pick up on just by association#Neil ‘he found their humanity interesting’ Josten#he doesn’t need the death threats to motivate him#somewhere in the background Andrew is watching his every move and realizing time and time again how terrifyingly smart Neil is#and how well he can put his observations to use in really ruthless unapologetic ways#and then Andrew is faced with the reality that all of that brainpower is being used for exy and exy alone#thinking about Neil will kill that man one day I stg#aftg#all for the game#neil josten#kevin day#andrew minyard#andreil#aftg headcanon#aftg meta#character analysis#post canon#the foxhole court#tfc
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Monster headcanons part I Have Problems
- Andrew hates horror games because he hates being scared by cheap jump scares, but he’s also determined to get through each one available to him. Neil thinks this is funny, and, whenever Andrew stops paying attention to the game to do something (like, scroll through his social media feed real quick) and Neil gets bored, he’ll gasp to freak Andrew out and make him pay attention again. Sometimes it works a little too well and the amount of snacks that have been thrown at him is astounding
- Aaron never takes bracelets off. He got one of the pass things because they went to the fair? It’s still on his wrist. The band he got for a fundraiser? You guessed it, still there. A friendship bracelet from the second grade? Still there. Lurking
- Andriel and shotgunning. ANDRIEL AND SHOTGUNNING-
- Andrew loves back scratches. Sometimes, on the nights when Andrew wakes from a nightmare and needs to feel Neil’s scars, needs to feel it’s Neil, Neil will drag his nails across Andrew’s shoulders, moving in such a way that Andrew can feel the scars on his arm
- Andrew gets his nails professionally done. Sometimes him and Allison run into each other, Starbucks in hand, and just exchange a single nod
- Neil is a menace. Give him a single marker (and permission) and suddenly you’ve been stuck inside a kindergarten classroom for a week. No exposed skin is safe. He’s not even really that good at it, but he’s good in a bad way (he makes a bunch of weird wood dragons out of some scribbles, once, on Andrew’s calf, and it looks like something from a mid-evil journal)
- Neil will just.. eat bread.. plain bread.. like, slices at a time..
- Aaron is the old man that turns the tv up to seventy to watch a news report
- One year Nicky convinces the monsters to dress like they’re from the purge for Halloween (I don’t care if the timeline doesn’t add up, you couldn’t pry this from my cold, dead hands)
- The upperclassmen (aside from Renee) once bet that Andrew couldn’t get Neil to laugh and literally all he did was go over, stand in front of him for a minute, and then stuck his tongue out. (Neil didn’t really do the burst-out-laughing thing, so the snicker he gave counted)
- Andrew’s sense of humor consists of those really distorted random memes and poorly taken photos of cats
- Whenever they go pro and Andreil is apart, Andrew sometimes sleeps with a body pillow (it doesn’t move and it’s not warm, so A+ on the non-threatening part, but also an F for not being Neil)
- Andrew’s favorite color is red (yes this is based on the single instance where it’s expressed that he has a red sticker on his charger)
- Renee is Neptunic. No I will not elaborate thank you and goodbye
- Andrew doesn’t really refer to people by name (usually because Neil has already said who they are talking about) but when he does have to mention a specific person he uses some obscure nickname (Neil knows he’s just doing it to be annoying, since it’s not like he can forget their names.) He once calls Matt “the truck bi”
- Nicky’s the type of person to watch scary stuff really late and only realize how late it is and that he has to sleep now after he’s finished the entire thing
- One time Allison tries to start a bet with Kevin by saying that he couldn’t go a week without exy and he flat out tells her she’s right
- Kevin and Aaron like dogs, Nicky likes both, and Andriel, of course, prefer cats
- When they get the apartment, neither Andrew or Neil wear their armbands while inside (unless they need to because they’re not doing well)
#meet the monsters#hello yes i did just include renee with the monsters#let’s play stickball they said#it’ll be fun they said#aftg#all for the game#all for the gay#kazisatitagain#headcanons#stickball#sports#neil josten#meme#andrew and aaron#aaron minyard#andrew minyard#kevin day#renee walker#the upperclassmen#nicky hemmick
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prompt: aaron had a slight ED that he developed as a kid and is now being noticeable to the rest of the foxes even andrew and nicky kinda knew he forgot to eat but the stress from school and exy makes it worse....
I could easily expand on this and maybe one day I will. It hits kinda close to home tho so I’m going to err on the side of brevity just for my own mental space. Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is what you’re looking for ❤️ ❤️ Take care of yourselves!
Warnings for depression, eating disorder.
Edit: this has been expanded and can also be found on my ao3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3
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Wednesday | 6:04am
The alarm was screaming.
Its cries crashed against his senses like sea-storm waves and Aaron was without shelter. The sound had been crowding him for four minutes now, and he still couldn't lift a hand to make it stop -- even though he was perfectly aware and wide awake. He wanted to stop the sound, he needed the quiet back, but for whatever reason his hand just wouldn't listen to his brain no matter how many times he willed it to move.
Aaron hated days like this.
Wednesday | 8:43am
Nicky slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, a grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back like a low-budget greaser, halfway between wet and just damp. They’d just finished morning practice and he, Nicky, and Kevin were waiting out in the player’s lobby for Neil and Andrew to finish showering and changing so they could leave.
“Aw man, I am hungry. Please tell me that Andrew and Neil are gonna finish up soon so that we can go get a real breakfast.” Nicky's whining was easy enough to ignore most of the time, but today Aaron was tired and his patience was thin. He had three tests to study for, two essays to write, they had a game coming up on Friday, and Aaron didn't have the bandwidth for Nicky, too.
He shruged his cousin off with a snort. "I'm just gonna hitch a ride to the library." There were still a few hours before his first class of the day, and he needed to use that time for something productive.
"Aww, c'mon Aaron come to breakfast with us! We'll drop you at the library when we're done. It won't take too long!"
"What won't take too long?" When Aaron looked over, he saw Neil and Andrew coming out of the locker room, clean and changed.
"Breakfast!" Nicky announced. "Neil, tell Aaron to join us! It's a family breakfast -- he should be there!"
"You can't just label things "family" events as a way to require people to be there," Kevin said with a long-suffering sigh. Even so, Aaron noticed he already had the menu of their usual breakfast joint pulled up on his phone. The pictures of pancakes topped with glistening syrup and fluffy omelets made his stomach clench in an unpleasant way.
Aaron looked away.
"I've got a shit to do," he said. That would be his final word on it, and to demonstrate, Aaron turned to head toward the doors.
Except Andrew had moved to block him, though Aaron hadn't registered when his twin had circled them. Aaron frowned, lifting his chin in challenge.
Andrew just studied him for a long moment before looking just past Aaron, gaze darting over his shoulder to the others behind him. He lifted a hand and a second later a slim object snapped into it. When Andrew then held it out to him, Aaron saw it was a granola bar.
A quick glance over his shoulder exposed the granola bar thrower as Kevin, who was zipping his backpack shut. They matched gazes briefly and Kevin nodded toward the granola bar in Andrew's hand.
"If you aren't going to come to breakfast with us make sure you get something on your way to the library."
Aaron glared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. Andrew just looked at him, expression blank, and continued to hold out the damn granola bar like he could stand there all day without a care in the world.
A flash of resentment boiled through him. Of course Andrew could stand there so fucking unbothered. Barely anything affected him at all.
With an annoyed huff, Aaron snatched the bar out of Andrew's hand and shoved it into his pocket before stalking out of the building.
Wednesday | 1:15pm
Katelyn ❤️ (13:15): Hey baby! Prof Dixon bailed again ~ you free?
Aa. Min. (13:15): McCallister's?
Katelyn ❤️ (13:16): See u in 5! 😘
Wednesday | 1:23pm
Aaron stood inside the confused cacophony that was McCallister's, an on-campus restaurant that was the love child of a deli and a pub but four times too big, regretting his choices.
It wasn't even the noise that was bothering him the most. It was the smell.
Aaron took two steps into the restaurant and his stomach roiled. It twisted and tightened, curling in on itself in disgust at the sharp, slimy stench of cold cut deli meat cushioned on a waft of double-baked potatoes that filled the restaurant like wildfire's haze. He and Katelyn met here for lunch two or three times a week when their schedules lined up. They both liked the food and they had several corner booths where they could hide in and study together after eating. It was one of their favorite places. But right now, Aaron was fighting not to gag.
“Aaron!” Relief warred with dread at the sound of Katelyn’s voice and he hastily plastered on an imitation of the smile he usually didn’t even have to think about, that always rose to his lips whenever she was around all on its own. It didn’t today, but for Katelyn he could make the effort. For Katelyn, Aaron could do anything.
He turned around once that smile was fixed in place and wrapped his arms around her when she joined him, indulging in a quick kiss that soothed some of the nausea churning in his gut. When they broke apart, Aaron turned to lead them toward their usual booth but Katelyn stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Babe is everything alright?” Worry painted a crease between her eyebrows, her mouth drawn down as she studied him.
Most days, Katelyn’s concern warmed him. It made him feel seen and loved and cherished. Today it put a slash of anxiety through his lungs, breath seeping out through the cut and concaving his chest under the weight of her scrutiny.
Aaron arranged his smile into something tired and unalarmed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long week, y’know?”
Katelyn hummed like she wasn’t sure she believed him but was deciding to trust him anyway, then she smiled and she released his arm only to take his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Alright, then let’s get some lunch and shut out the rest of the world for at least a little bit, yeah?”
The smell of the restaurant was still choking him and even his skin felt tight. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was stay there another second, let alone the hour he had until he needed to think about heading to his next class.
“I’m so sorry Kate, I’ve got to meet with the TA for my history class. I remembered right after I texted you but I still wanted to see you so I figured I’d just tell you when you got here.” He offered an apologetic smile and did his best to ignore the way guilt was now mixing uncomfortably well with the sick already sloshing around in his stomach. Aaron did not like lying to Katelyn, it felt wrong. But he also couldn’t... he couldn’t explain what was wrong with him right now -- not because he didn’t know, but because he was sure explaining it was going to make him sound crazy and that was just the last thing he needed right now. It was better to slip away, go somewhere he could focus on homework or something and just... wait for it to pass.
Katelyn’s expression fell, flashing disappointment, then a sad understanding as she nodded. “Of course. It’s okay babe, really. I’m just glad I got to see you at all.” She smiled then -- that bright, warm, just-for-him smile that always had Aaron’s heart skipping. A small knot of tension loosened in his lower chest, just enough that he was able to take a small breath and offer a more genuine smile of his own in return.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you too, Aaron. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you later, okay?”
He made no promises before he made his escape, just a smile and a wave.
Wednesday | 3:37pm
The granola bar tasted like ash in his mouth. It felt like there were iron weights attached to his jaw, making it impossible for him to chew. A fist of repulsion locked around his throat, and it was a physical struggle to swallow.
This was the worst part about days like this.
Aaron knew he had to eat something, because he knew what could happen if he didn’t and the only thing worse than having to put up with feeling this way, dragging himself through the mud of his own psychosis one step, one mile, at a time -- was doing it with everyone watching him struggle.
So he forced himself through half the granola bar. He knew better than to push for more than that, or all his efforts would be wasted into the nearest trash can.
Wednesday | 7:51pm
Practice had been brutal. It had been so bad that even Nicky hadn’t been able to cheer himself through it and was just as bitter and on edge as the rest of them by the time they hit the showers.
Aaron sat in the lobby and waited for the others, feeling old. He felt tired. He just wanted these stupid pissing contests to stop and everyone to shut up. He wanted the world to be completely silent, completely empty. Emptiness sounded nice. Sounded peaceful. Sounded right.
The sharp scuff of shoe-rubber against tile had him cringing so hard his shoulders ached and he peeled his eyes open to glare at the source. Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets, blank-faced and too knowing.
Aaron snorted and looked away.
The couch shifted slightly as Andrew took the spot next to him. There was the soft shk of a blade cutting into something crisp and when Aaron looked over, Andrew was holding out a small sliver of apple. His brother wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other Minyard was dispassionately staring at the tv, which was playing some sports channel that Aaron knew very well Andrew didn’t give a single shit about.
For a long moment Aaron just stared at the side of his twin’s face, but it was impossible to know what, if anything, he was thinking about. Finally, he looked at the sliver of apple. It was pale, small, unobtrusive. Aaron’s stomach clenched, a mix between hunger and repulsion. All he’d had today was that half a granola bar -- which had been both too much and not enough. His throat tightened as he stared at that innocuous slice of fruit, but he was almost focused more on the hand holding it. His eyes burned and he looked away, but not before taking the slice.
#aftg#aftg fanfic#tw: depression#tw: eating disorder#tw: ed#aaron minyard#andrew minyard#twinyards#of course i made it a twinyard drabble#because i'm a sucker for the boys supporting each other#going into a small headcanon in the tags here#i hc andrew struggles with food#similar to what aaron goes through here#but more intense#because he has a very complex relationship with food#based on his past#and then the manifestation of his depression does not help#i actually have a wip based on this#from andrew's pov#where we see him dealing with his ed#and the way the monsters support him through it#sometimes his ed crops up due to his depression#and sometimes its separate#anyway#this was an unnecessary a/n in the tags here#but that's why andrew took the approach he did in the drabble#because how he treats aaron in this is how he needs to be handled when he has his own episodes
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The Foxhole Cinema: Chapter Eight
Read on Ao3
Read on tumblr
Neil slotted the dustpan and brush back where they had been at the beginning of the day, which already felt like it had been years ago. If working at The Foxhole was like this every day, he might actually start sleeping well again. He’d never gotten a good night’s sleep whilst on the run, but then again, he hadn’t at his Father’s house either. The last time he got a good night’s sleep was probably the one night he and his Mother spent at Uncle Stuart’s house in England after fleeing.
Even though Uncle Stuart was nice enough, his job as a lawyer was just a cover for gang work. It seemed like everyone in Neil’s life was embroiled with criminals somehow- Neil's Father had been a shady man playing at the big leagues by kidnapping Kevin, but Stuart was a genuine gangster. Neil’s mother hadn’t wanted them to go from one crime family to another so that had been a temporary stay, and even though he had Stuart’s number memorized, he had never called it.
Wymack watched him in stony silence before beckoning him closer. “Alright Josten, get a move on. We need to reach Abby’s before midnight so I can stop Kevin from doing something stupid whilst drunk.”
Neil nodded. “Sounds like a difficult task.”
“Don’t I know it,” Wymack sighed, and turned to leave the Cinema. Neil followed him out, close enough to look polite, but also far enough to avoid any malevolent hands or feet.
They were the last two to leave, so Wymack locked the door behind him. Everyone else had left earlier in the day, as their shifts ended, but Neil was forced to wait for Wymack to finish up whatever he was doing so they could leave together. Nicky had left first, wishing him a teary farewell as if they weren’t going to see each other tomorrow. Kevin and Aaron had ignored him as they took their leave, and Andrew had given him a two-fingered salute. Allison had been preoccupied with Seth, but Renee had flashed Neil another of her sugar-sweet smiles and offered to stay with him whilst he waited, but he had turned her down- he didn’t want to spend any more time with her than he had to.
She had accepted that without question.
Unfortunately for Neil, he couldn’t keep up the safe distance from Wymack once he was in his car, which was a two-seater and far too small for a man Wymack’s height. He had to stoop to fit through the driver’s seat door, but luckily Neil had no such issue. His issue lay with Wymack’s hands, and tracking their every move has he adjusted the rear-view mirror and shoved some fluffy dice dangling from it out of the way.
“Abby’s car,” Wymack said as an explanation.
“That explains a lot,” Neil said drily.
“Look,” Wymack said slowly, “You’ve only been here for one day, but you’re still a member of the team, got it?”
Neil nodded, despite the fact he disagreed. He may work at The Foxhole, but he was not part of the team.
“So,” Wymack continued, “Don’t let Minyard push you around. If he starts some shit, you come to me. Christ, if anyone starts some shit, you come to me.”
“Do we need a heart to heart right now, Coach?” Neil huffed, borrowing Andrew’s nickname for Wymack, who groaned in frustration at its use.
The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, and when they reached Abby’s house Neil clambered out of the car as fast as he could, unwilling to be trapped in an enclosed space with a grown man for any longer than possible. Wymack was not as oblivious as he had seemed when they first met, so he placed himself resolutely out of Neil’s personal space now that the option had arisen, holding out that little olive branch.
Neil took it as the peace offering it was and rung the doorbell. The front door swung open within seconds as if the woman inside had been sitting by the door waiting. She had a motherly smile and she looked Neil up and down with a gaze that was somehow both critical and comforting.
“You must be Neil,” she said, moving aside to let him in. “Please make yourself at home.”
Neil slipped off his shoes, and although he was wearing socks, they had enough holes that he could feel the cool floor against his feet. Running away from assailants constantly hadn’t left any of his clothes in the best shape (although these were the only ones he had left now, courtesy of Lola- he was starting to regret not taking the few seconds to kill her). Abby took in his threadbare socks with something akin to pity in her eyes and ushered him into the kitchen, Wymack following at a safe distance.
“We’ll get something in your stomach and then show you to the guest room,” Abby said, pulling a tray of steaming Mac n’ Cheese from the oven and heaping a serving of it into a pastel pink bowl- Neil wondered if she was the one who had chosen the Break Room’s colour scheme.
“Thank you,” Neil said, digging in.
Wymack and Abby both scooped out their own servings and sat down together, opposite Neil.
If there was one thing Neil didn’t miss from before being on the run, it was small talk at his Father’s dinners. Abby seemed determined to draw him out into conversation, commenting on her favorite popcorn flavor (salted caramel) while Wymack grumbled about Allison dumping her job on Neil since it was his first day. At that, Abby sweetly pointed out that Allison was under a lot of stress, and although it wasn’t the right thing to do, she was only doing it to go help Seth.
Neil zoned out at that point- he’d never met Seth, and if even his girlfriend called him ‘the dick’, he probably wasn’t that good of a person.
“Neil?” Abby asked, and it sounded like it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name. Neil snapped back out of his head. “You seem tired. Do you want to head to the guest room now?”
Neil nodded, edging away from Wymack as the older man rose from the table. Wymack noticed the action and sent a meaningful look to Abby, who shot one right back before leading Neil from the table.
The Guest Room had a dark colour scheme, in stark contrast to the rest of the house, with steel-grey curtains that hung down over the windows and coal-black bedspreads, but the walls were covered in movie posters and star decals that matched the gold highlights on the sheets and pillows. A door in the side lead to a conjoined bathroom. It was clear they’d put a lot of thought into it. Abby sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. Neil sat down next to her, just out of the reach of her hands. He automatically trusted her more than Wymack, but his Mother hadn’t been afraid to raise a hand to him if it was necessary for his safety.
“Neil,” she said slowly, “You’ve only known Wymack for just over a day, and me for about half an hour, so you have no reason to trust us yet.”
Neil nodded. That was something he understood- not trusting anyone, always being ready for a betrayal. Maybe Abby understood that too.
“But,” she continued, “I hope you give us a chance to earn that trust. I don’t know what you’ve been through in the past, except that it probably wasn’t good.”
“An understatement,” Neil said wryly before he could stop himself.
Abby fixed him with a gaze Neil couldn’t quite interpret, somewhere in the thin realm between pity and compassion. “As soon as you started working at the Foxhole, you became a valued part of the team. But, that also means you will have to spend time around Wymack. I want you to understand that you are in no danger from him.”
Neil sighed. “It’s instinct.”
Abby nodded, some semblance of understanding in her eyes. “I may not know exactly what you’ve gone through, but everyone at the Foxhole has a had a hard past, and this is all about giving people chances. But that’s not just for teenagers. You need to give us adults chances too- chances to show you we won’t be like the people from your past. That’s all we ask of you.”
Neil sighed. “I’ll try.”
That seemed to be enough for Abby, as she rose from the bed and made her way towards the edge of the room.
“Thank you. There are pyjamas on the bedside table, and toothpaste and toothbrush in the connected bathroom,” she paused in the doorway. “Goodnight Neil.”
“Goodnight Abby.”
#aftg series#aftg trilogy#aftg fanfic#aftg fandom#all for the game#all for the gay#the foxhole court#the foxhole cinema#neil josten#david wymack#coach wymack#dadmack#fanfic#ao3fic
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scare + sleep intimacy for andreil for the au mashup 😳
(hi ily!!!!!
K so hear me out: Andrew is a dumb bitch
I say this because I love him and also because he’s a massive hypocrite
He’s seen Neil scared, seen Neil clinging to sanity, seen Nathaniel ready to carve out a path to safety innocent bystanders be damned
But– it’s all been about self preservation, about Neil
There was the time that new kid on the hockey team decided it would be funny to dress up as a murderous butcher for Halloween and very nearly got butchered by the foxes when Neil went four shades of milk white and wouldn’t stop saying “I’m fine” no matter what they asked.
(and he was fine, because the guy’s costume was shit. But then the guy started blabbing about how cutting off legs first is the best option because then you don’t even need to tie up your victims and everything went downhill)
There’s the times when an older women calls out a name a little too sharply and Andrew sees Neil leave and whatever identity appear
There’s the time Neil woke up after falling asleep at his desk and his legs fell asleep
There’s a lot of times Neil’s been scared, he’s a flighty person who’s lived a life that leads to a lot of triggers
but– again, those have all been about Neil.
Neil being attacked, Neil being reminded of things that happened to him, Neil reacting to threats to himself.
However, one night, they’re on the roof.
They’re bickering, Andrew’s smoking and glaring at Neil every time he steals the stick just to take a lazy drag and stare out at the skyline.
It wasn’t a good day for Andrew, and they’ve got their legs hanging over the ledge and Andrew’s heart is pounding and his hands are pressed firmly into the concrete to pretend they aren’t shaking with every heavy beat. It’s rare that he’s ever this close to the edge, but the all consuming fear is better when he’s the one causing it.
He and Neil have slipped into a quiet, content silence and if Andrew could admit it, it’s probably one of his favorite things in the world.
It’s getting late though, and cold, and Andrew doesn’t want to waste anymore cigarettes on the dumbass who’s not even smoking them, so he stands up.
But he’s an idiot, he’s been smoking and sitting still for at least an hour and the last substantial food he had was a box of old chow mien at 11:30.
So he wobbles a bit, and he’s right on the edge and there’s not really a place to steady himself
and
he
slips.
He knows the moment it’s practically all over and he feels the jolt of panic all the way through his fingertips before he even starts to fall– it’s almost painful.
But then, Neil grabs his shirt and yanks him back, the momentum sending them both sprawling, heads knocking against concrete and clothes and skin tearing.
Andrew’s in shock, he can’t really move, but Neil’s practically teleporting. He’s over Andrew in a second, not touching but his eyes are wide and his breathing’s heavy and he’s saying something and it takes a moment for Andrew to catch up with whatever it is.
“Well, that was close,” Andrew says, his voice sounds as flat as usual despite the franticness of his heartbeat.
Neil freezes, and then sags, his whole body going practically limp as his forehead lands on Andrew’s chest. Instinctively Andrew’s hand goes for the back of his neck, and Neil grabs his wrist. Andrew can tell he’s straining not to hold it in a death grip, straining to make sure Andrew knows he can break out of the hold if he wants to.
“Fuck,” Neil curses, muffled and breathless. “I can’t be on the roof right now,” he adds. Andrew doesn’t say anything, just waits for Neil to calm down a bit, he can feel his pulse – just as erratic as Andrew’s – and it doesn’t calm, not even when Neil pulls himself upright.
They go downstairs, Neil hasn’t let go of Andrew’s wrist and Andrew hasn’t mentioned it.
Kevin’s in the living room, he’s watching an exy game with his earbuds and ignores them as they pass.
Andrew sits on his bed and Neil hesitates until Andrew tugs him down.
“Yes or no?” Neil asks.
“No,” Andrew says, not willing to do anything with Neil while he’s obviously on the verge of a panic attack.
Neil shakes his head, “no, no not like that I just– I need to–” he squeezes Andrew’s wrist for a fraction of a second, almost involuntarily.
Slowly, Andrew nods, “shoulders,” he says, and Neil’s hands move fast, and his grip turns deathly as his head sags, pressing against Andrew’s chest like he had before.
It’s not a hug, that wouldn’t be comforting to either of them, but its proof Andrew’s sitting here, alive, breathing, not splattered on the pavement in front of the Tower.
“Don’t fucking do that,” Neil whispers. “I’ll give you anything just don’t fucking do that ever again.”
Andrew’s hand goes to the back of Neil’s neck and his grip’s just as tight as Neil’s. It’s minutes or hours or maybe years before they shift to lay down, limbs aching from holding tense positions for so long.
They fall asleep still touching though, and Andrew can’t help but wonder how the hell he managed to get here.
How he managed to become something that terrifies Neil Josten in the worst way possible.
(alsdfj this turned out long I got emotional ;aldf sorry there’s like, barely any sleep intimacy….)
[Psst– send me two fic prompts and I’ll tell you how I’d mash them]
#luci doesn't shut up#fic!#I haven't written an Andreil fic in a minute#Is this a fic?#ficlette?#hc compilationo?#XD#anyways#fear#tw// heights#gang gang hope you enjoy#sorry there's like#barely any sleep intimacy#I got caught up in fears XDD#aftg#andreil#all for the game
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andreil, 85 and 16??
Notes: Thank you so much love!!! A reblog is worth a thousand stars!
.-
16 » “I’m going to kiss you now.”
85 » “Sometimes I really dislike you.”.”
.-
Neil’s never been to a wedding.
He’s never seen two people exchanging vows. Has never watched their first dance after being declared as partners, or eve attended an actual reception. Hell, the closest Neil’s ever gotten to one was whenever Allison would drag him down to watch reruns of Four Weddings with her if Renee was busy.
All this to say, even with Neil’s minuscule wedding expertise, he still has the foresight to tell Matt that choosing the cake’s flavor seems like a very bride and groom sort of job, even if it’s a moot point considering that he’s already said as much a total of three times.
“I know, I know,” Matt tugs on the ends of his hair, eyes wide and frantic. “But we over booked like crazy and Dan has gotta check out something at the venue and my suit fitting’s in like a quarter of an hour and.”
“And you’re desperate?” Neil gathers.
“Completely,” Matt pouts. “And I know that it’s totally last minute and—“
“Okay,” Neil interrupts because he feels like it’s the right thing to say and he’d really rather not listen to Matt actually beg. “I can go for you guys.”
“Really!” Matt beams.
“Of course,” Neil shrugs.
Matt pulls him into a tight hug. “You’re a life saver Neil my man.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Once he leaves Neil pulls out his phone from his sock drawer to text Andrew, asks him if he’d like to tag along.
Andrew: Boyd already paid?
Me: Yes
Andrew: Fine, give me 5.
Suddenly going to this cake tasting doesn’t feel so entirely dreadful.
.-
“Stop looking at the joint like it’s about to swallow you whole,” Andrew toots, absentmindedly thumbs a circle into the hand Neil’s got interlocked into his own. It’s a gentle moment, something casual. It’s one that Neil enjoys the most, brilliant in its simplicity. It makes him feel grounded, feel alive. It reminds him that he can have this now, a life composed of warm smiles and warmer friends and gets to call Andrew his person. His person who makes Neil feel understood and wonderful and abuzz with something so splendid that he can hardly describe it.
“Am not looking at it like that,” Neil sniffs, gives a gentle squeeze to Andrew’s hand, likes the feeling of his touch calluses and soft palms, thinks that Andrew was born to be a walking contradiction and Neil was always meant to find him and hold on tight.
“Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of frills Neil?” Andrew goads, one brow cocked and half his mouth turned up in a smile that isn’t mean, but it’s not nice either. “Princess will have a conniption.”
“Sometimes I really dislike you,” Neil informs him in a deadpan, turns his attention to the brightly smiling redhead who’s welcoming them inside for their appointment.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Andrew says lowly, is close enough so that his hot tendrils of breath skirt against Neil’s neck and blatant enough so the aforementioned redhead starts to blush.
Oh joy.
.-
“Everyone here at Love At First Bite is dedicated to making your special day the most memorable of your lives,” the baker, Madeline, crows as they take their seats, eyes glittering with genuine mirth.
Neil elbow checks Andrew once he catches the grimace passing across his face at the comment, offers Madeline an apologetic grin. The one that always makes Allison pinch his cheek dotingly and Dan give into whatever plan he’s plotting out.
“So you guys take up a lot of weddings huh?” Neil asks her, genuinely curious.
“We’re the top bakery in the city, third year running,” she crows.
“Bet there’s some stiff competition in this wonderful town,” Andrew says wryly, utterly unimpressed. Though Madeline doesn’t seem to notice, only giggles and gets some color in her cheeks once more.
“So I’ve pulled out some slices that we think will fit your wedding perfectly from our conversation last week, let me just grab them from the kitchen.” The door swings shut in her wake and Neil nearly jolts forwards with the realization.
“She thinks ’s our wedding?”
“Hmm,” Andrew glances towards him, molten eyes squinted in confusion.
“Madeline,” Neil begins to clarify. “She thinks that me and you— that we’re, that it’s our— She thinks it’s our wedding.”
“Pretty terrified sounding Neil,” Andrew needles in a menacingly flat tone. “What, the thought of marrying me such a burden?”
Wait, what? No that’s definitely not it! That’s not even close to what Neil was thinking. He doesn’t care that she thinks they’re the grooms, not even slightly. It’s kinda the exact opposite. More like he didn’t even think of the possibility until this moment, and now— well now it’s making him feel disoriented in the best of ways. Like their’s something warm and splendid coiling deep in his stomach and his insides are pulsing with the realness of that possibility.
Neil doesn’t get to tell Andrew as much because Madeline walks in right then, hands filled by carrying a platter of various slices of cake, and sporting an exciting grin all the while.
“So I know you guys were interested in the strawberry shortcake over the phone, but actually our carrot cake is a total favorite from our customers, and I think you two would just adore it!” She says without a moment to breathe between words.
“Whatever,” Andrew huffs, grabs for the plate she’s offering and stabs his fork into the dessert with way more force than necessary.
“You guys are just so cute,” Madeline tells them, glowing as she hands another slice over to Neil. “Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you,” Neil says mostly because he knows Andrew isn’t in the mood to make small talk, besides this lady has been nothing but kind and doesn’t deserve their sourness seeping into her day also.
“So I hope I’m not intruding,” Madeline starts, inches closer as she prepares the next set of cakes for them to try. “But what was the proposal like? I always think those are just the most amazing stories from our patrons.”
“Yeah Neil,” Andrew quickly interjects, already having finished his slice and still sulking. “Why don’t you tell the nice lady how you proposed, practically begged, for me to marry you.”
Neil hates it when Andrew gets petty, hopes that the glare he’s directing his way is properly getting across that notion.
“It was quiet.” He ends up telling Madeline, though his eyes never leave Andrew’s face— a face he’s spent countless hours tracing the lines of and memorizing each slope and valley. He use to only map it out with his eyes, but then he somehow— miraculously— got to do so with soft caresses and eventually sure kisses. It’s a beautiful face, Neil’s favorite face. A face he would spend an eon just staring at if Andrew had ever been patient or willing enough to let him.
“Something private?” Madeline surmises, reminds Neil that they actually have company and she’s waiting for him to answer the question at hand.
“Yeah,” Neil nods, slow but sure. “Our friends were all over the place for the holidays, but me and Andrew stayed home, just the pair of us and our cats.” He continues to explain, knows that the best lies always have as much truth as possible mixed into them, and yes, in fact this was their precise situation this year over Christmas. And it was also one of the times that Andrew made it so Neil’s heart blossomed with something remarkable. One of the most recent times he was sure that Andrew was his world.
“I woke up, and I looked at him and I just knew it. So after he woke up and we made breakfast, I just took his hands in mine—“ Neil does that now, hesitantly because he never wants to overstep, but is reassured when Andrew’s own go pliant and he turns ever so slightly towards him. “So I look him straight in the eyes, and I told him that I love him, and I love all he’s brought into my world. I told him that I don’t want anything to ever change between us. We’re the one constant I’ve ever had in my life and I’m thankful for it every day.”
Madeline gushes with her fist pressed to her chest, and Andrew follies a nasty grimace her way for the interruption. Neil doesn’t falter though, just gazes at Andrew, thinks of how he’s always been so enthralled by him. Neil feels it in his bones how he loves him so thoroughly that it takes his breath away.
“Then what,” Andrew prods, words hugged in a tender cadence that probably no one else could pick up on, but Neil recognizes it well, and it makes his chest thud with wanting.
“And then I asked you to marry me, to stay with me till the end of time.”
A pregnant pause spills over them and Neil feels every breath escape his lungs, is only settled down when Andrew tilts his pale head and lets the smallest of grins turn up the corners of his thin lips.
“And I said yes.”
“You said yes,” Neil repeats, equal parts bewildered and amazed.
“Of course I said yes,” Andrew sniffs, but the posturing doesn’t last, his features melting into something so achingly open that Neil wants to kiss him right then and there.
“Oh how precious,” Madeline squawks, and this time it’s Neil who casts her a nasty glare.
.-
They ultimately decide on the chocolate marble cake for the wedding, and as they walk out the bakery— hands still interlocked— Andrew turns to him, slightly smug.
“Pretty sappy shit you thought of on the spot,” Andrew goads, bright and beautiful and the one sure thing Neil’s ever known.
“I wasn’t freaked out that she thought we were married dummy, I was freaked out I hadn’t gotten to ask you myself yet,” Neil tells him, totally indignant.
A thousand emotions suddenly pull at Andrew’s face, settling on an expression that Neil could only ever describe as aw.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, words stripped from any pretense, and gazing at Neil as if he had placed all the stars in the sky. As if he were someone worth that sort of adoration. And God does Neil love him. “Yes or no”
“Yes Andrew, of course yes.”
Andrew’s Arms circle around his neck, and Neil clasps his hands on either side of his narrow waste, and they fit so perfectly that it’s hard not to think of it as fate.
Gingerly, their mouths slant over one another’s, lips cloaked in sugar and tasting like a forever Neil once only dreamed of.
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1, 2, 7, 8, 9 and 10 please
finally some good fucking food, thanks anon;
1. What themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?
Generally speaking, I think the in-betweens, the casual time-skips, and the quick intermissions are the things that get glossed over the most. The “missing scenes”, if you will--the hours after a squabble between a team, the morning before the battle, the months where a child sat idle, the dreams that turned into prophecy.
I also think the theme of re-connection is not often explored--its always “love on first sight” kind of deal, but what about the enduring kind of love, the kind that stays like an ache in your bones? the one you remember and miss? the one you long for like a phantom limb?
2. What are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? What would you avoid writing about?
This varies wildly between fandoms, but probably the thing they all have in common is: mindless smut. Just straight up down and dirty fucking, with no motive or prompting or characterization. Just the author smashing two guys (usually) at the hips and being done with it.
That’s fine; we all love to see it. It’s just so dull sometimes.
I need some intricacy, some intimacy, some ache, some angst, some destructive lines and some ruthless gut-punches, you know? Not a guy coming for the fifth time.
For the AFTG fandom: I’m tired of seeing people being fine with the way Sakavic treated her characters and coddling Neil & Andrew in the face of it. I don’t hate Andreil, I feel like I should say, but so much of it relies on one or the other sticking people with their knives or fists and that’s such a toxic love, a misconception of what a “good” relationship should be. Now, there are some brilliant fics I’ve read that are just gorgeous with the concept of Andreil--that was what I wished Sakavic had the ability to achieve in her series, while giving dignity to Kevin Day and the rest of the characters that were there and LIVED despite the romance.
So, obviously, I would avoid doing any of the above I just mentioned, and pray that you will too. Just let these ppl breathe, alright?
For the AoT fandom (yeah i dabbled cuz the manga is just. depressing man): same issue---too much fucking, not enough talking and emoting. Why are there so many goddamned high school AUs? My god. I need a fic that gets down and dirty with the shit going down in the manga and take me through it so I can stand to continue. What about the grief and mourning and the betrayal of it all? Can I get me some of that? Lord, don’t go near the Levi/Eren tag. Y’all just don’t even knock it. Go to Levi/Erwin or something. Or just don’t. Don’t.
For the BNHA fandom (lol. a staple): actually, there’s quite a bit of diversity here so I geniunely can’t complain about much. The sheer magnitude of the English-speaking fandom helps on that end, I suppose. I do think there should be more fics looking at the Shit n Grit of Hero’s society tho, Stain-style. The people the heroes couldn’t save or didn’t want to, the forgotten bodies and the cooling hands, the victims that never got closure, the heroes who got maimed and multilated and couldn’t get back on their feet once the limelight left em. Those sorts of things. I think the fact we see thru the rosy-eyed worldviews of a bunch of green-eared kids deludes people to the fact that People Are Fucking Bad and Disgusting almost all the time. So exploring that, I think, is far more worthwhile.
But I will also take injury aftermath. I’m not a monster.
For the KNY fandom: EYYY we talk about grief and suffering a lot which if you haven’t noticed, is kind of my Jam! Actually, this fandom prob hits a lot of my sweet spots: role reversals, grief/mourning aftermath, SabiGiyuu, Sabito Lives, the usual! Can’t really say much abt this. Except, there’s a lot of Demon Sex and Rape and, uh. Guys? Can we go back for a hot sec?
For the Code Geass fandom (*rubs hands in glee*): SO this is the fandom I’m most active in aside from AFTG at this precise moment. It’s pretty dead, tbh. My favorite two fics in the AO3 archive was published in 2014 and the author hasn’t written for my fav pairing (Suzaku/Lelouch) since. So. There’s that. There’s also a lot of fucking here! And gross cishet dynamics, but, uh, whatever. I think the Emperor Lelouch/Knight of Zero Suzaku has been overused and abused for rough sex and just general Angst-ing it out. I wanna see how their dynamic plays out like that for sure, but what about when they still had secrets between them a mile wide and had to tell each other half-lies and half-truths? How about them coping with the fact of their betrayals and the death of their loved ones at the hands of each other? Where’s the hardcore shit?
Think this fandom doesn’t want to dig their fingers in too deep. Shame.
Another thing: CC is not an immortal seductress. My god give her pizza and some fucking DEPTH. She’s a walking encyclopedia, not some mysterious slut machine! Get your stereotypes and fetishes outta here!
Final thing: TALK ABOUT THE SHIT SUZAKU HAS BEEN THROUGH! He’s not just Lelouch’s boytoy or knight! Stop that! Examine his abuse, his time with the military, his span as a pawn! Look at his motivations and his internalized disgust for himself as a Japanese that was ingrained in him by an oppressive fucking system! Why does he bow? Why is he silent? Speak for him!
7. Favorite description in your wip? (If asked more than once, respond with a new piece each time)
Suzaku watched him watch the discoloring, and Suzaku watched the stillness change into the bare bones of animosity. It was almost kind, the way Lelouch turned his face away and shifted his grip to snatch up the antiseptic.
Neither of them spoke as sharp hands dabbed at the slightly split skin and wet bruising. It stung, but only a little. Long minutes passed like this, Lelouch exchanging swabs for cloths, Suzaku sitting still and watching him work.
Neither of them mentioned the scatter of old deadened skin, puckered across Suzaku’s build like a migration of mutilated fish.
8. Favorite dialogue in your wip? (If asked more than once, respond with a new piece each time)
"You know I can't be seen with you two."
"And I just warned you to not be a coward." Lelouch's eyes gleamed. Again, the challenge was there, and like a fool only Lellouch could make of him, Suzaku took it, open-mouthed and open-palmed.
"Fine," Suzaku said, not knowing what he'd promised himself to: a dinner or a duel. Even though the last time Lelouch picked up a sword it was wooden and he was tiny and cute and clumsy. But Lelouch didn’t need blades to cut. "I'll be there. Does Nunnally still enjoy a good scone?"
"Bring the blueberry ones," Lelouch said, extending the comment like a plank between them, and leapt off the wall, into the white sun. "One for the bastardly son and one for the disowned daughter."
Suzaku followed him out into the blaze of heat, feeling the crude perch of his laughter at the base of his throat. He was so fucking dramatic. "Which one of us do you mean?"
9. What scene was the hardest to write for you and why?
From the same wip fic from above--I’m stuck on the “light” kind-of crackish scene where Suzaku is literally just exasperated with Rivalz and his porn mags. Like I just can’t write it. It’s too.....friendly. And “nice”.
10. What scene was the most fun to write for you and why?
Out of the same fic as above: probably the scene from #8. It was fun to see how coy and rough-mouthed Suzaku could get once he’s together with Lelouch. Just to see them fool around with each other whilst keeping secrets but also somehow be honest was very satisfying and interesting to write out. They are just boys, there. Just boys. In love.
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Kenny Rogers, Adam Schlesinger,...coping with 2020
Worst year ever although there were some good.
It’s too early yet for me to do a quick look back on what 2020 is like here as we’re only going to be in the first of December tomorrow (it’s Nov 30 here) but I just have to as two losses this year broke me. Kind of, well, especially the second one.
You see, before East Asian pop, Jpop and Kpop, Western pop culture was my thing. It still is and this pandemic has made me go back to that recently starting with...the Beach Boys (their westcoast sound caught me, hook, line, and sinker and I wasn’t very fond of the Beatles to begin with...to be completely honest) I’m currently chillin’ to right now, as I write this post. I’m really weak to the westcoast sound. Beach sound/s in general, rather. I’m a big fan of the beach where nature goes, for one. Since some time, a few years ago, deep chill and tropical house music has been my go-to when I want to chill or calm myself down after an outburst of sorts and I put them on when I just feel meh, especially on Fridays. When I dream of being by the sea, the beach or in some island on my own. I live in a country with a lot of beaches and the Visayas here is basically island region Philippines, lol. Like most people, I listen to music according to mood just like the way I dress according to mood. And...it’s no wonder, really that I’m so into the Beach Boys now. RIP the Beatles. My dad played some songs of theirs on the guitar or so but the hold they have on me waned later on and I just think now how overrated they were back then. They did have good songs but when talking of good music, as in really good that it retains the same sound style or so, it’s the Beach Boys for me. Brian Wilson is the man despite his issues and personal struggles.
Anyway, we’re going quickly off tangent. I’ll save the Beach Boys fangirling for another day. lol.
I grew up with western pop culture rife all around me thanks to my American, cowboy country and folk music listening dad, my Carpenters-loving mom and then, college-aged aunts who’d made me see the Titanic film more than my fingers could count---the third is clearly an exaggeration but well...some of it is true and they were why I got into American films like Pretty Woman (we have this in good ol’ VHS in our family home, my grandparents’ in Jasaan), Mannequin, Ghost etc. in the late 80s, coming into the early 90s. So, tired of all the kdrama and uninteresting kvariety shows on tvn and the rebranded local channel, Kapamilya (long story for what we formerly know as ABS-CBN, the nation’s a mess right now and our gov’t’s just...ick!), I’d retreated to my cave and got into old tv shows I’d watched as a kid instead like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed and it’s been, well, moving on from there. I’m checking out Twin Peaks later. I’ve been watching old Hollywood films too. Some revisits on this include: Casablanca, Gone With The Wind, and especially A Streetcar Named Desire will always and forever be my favorite. Very young and cute and good looking Marlon Brando, ugh. I have some others in the stash which include Bonnie and Clyde I’ll be getting into much, much later, maybe over the weekends and holidays. In sum, I have a long history with western pop culture, especially America’s, more than I have with Japan’s and South Korea’s. The latter being very, very recent so it doesn’t really compare as much.
Let’s get right down to it...
So 2020 had us lose Kenny Rogers to natural causes on March 20 in a hospice and after, Adam Schlesinger to COVID 19 complications on April 1. I know the latter as the songwriter of The Wonders’ That Thing You Do from the film sharing the same song title. I know Kenny Rogers well because my dad listens to him over and over in the car. In pretty much the same way, I know the words to Islands in the Stream by heart and I accept and revere it as one of the best, if not THE BEST country-pop duet songs of all time between Kenny and Dolly Parton...as far as country and pop music in the US of A’re concerned, of course. Miley and Shawn Mendez’s cover of it I’d seen recently was alright but nothing still beats the OG one, as always. With music, it’s just, really always the case.
Kenny departing from us March this year was alright. He was well cared for in a hospice and at the right age too, to leave us and this mess of a world behind for the afterlife. Sounds grim but not really. Heh. He died of natural causes so we know he was at peace and accepted then that his time has come. Fans and long-time listeners of his should also be at peace with this knowledge. I don’t consider myself a fan but since he’s been around so much because my dad plays his songs in the car often, I’m the same. I’ve accepted his passing away early this year. He’s lived his life well and given us good music to listen to should we like to remember him and his works and celebrate his life and legacy doing so.
Schlesinger’s case was way worse because, well, COVID 19. And it’s well...I guess we all saw it coming, me included, that I’d just learned, watching the one of many national English news on ANC that ‘pandemic’ is the word of the year according to Merriam-Webster. Timely, huh? Yep. Predictable, really. Sarcasm noted here.
So if someone ever asks what 2020 was about, we only have to say that according to Merriam-Webster, it’s the global (COVID 19) pandemic. Short, not-so-sweet, succinct, and grim. Yep.
This one, Schlesinger’s case, is something I still find difficult to accept. He was only 52 years old! He was at the prime of his life and had some projects still he was working on at the time of his passing so WHY?! I suppose that’s all of us who followed him and his extensive work on tv, film, the stage and his own band, Fountains of Wayne when we heard news he’s passed away due to COVID 19 complications. It’s definitely me now though I learned of it late. Heh.
To cope with the sadness of losing Schlesinger, gone too soon at 52 years old and with an impressive Hollywood tv, stage, film resume to his name since and his own band’s, Fountains of Wayne (FoW) really good discography, by the way, I’ve been listening to FoW’s Welcome Interstate Managers---all of the contents of said album/record---and That Thing You Do’s OST with the Beach Boys’ Sounds of Summer Best of in between. My favorite song on Welcome Interstate Managers is the sarcastic take on real life as an everyday worker in sales, Bright Future in Sales. As much as I like chill sounds where music goes, I like me some music with lyrics jolting us back to grim reality in much the same way I like films (indies, mostly, or lesser known short and full-length ones) that tackle social issues not frequently discussed in public or so but we are aware are there, still plaguing much of today’s society. I live for cynical, satirical, ironic, and even hyperbolic stuff about real life actually. It may be why I’m so entrenched and attached to the era where we all hated ourselves---the 90s. Although one would say much of that sentiment or feeling did carry itself to the 2000s, though. I don’t know about you, but until now, I still hate or have heavy dislike for myself and everything else around me, especially our gov’t or current admin here in the Philippines, and people in general so I don’t think it ever really goes away. And going off tangent again for the nth time today.
Anyway, my 1996 was That Thing You Do on HBO in our household...on and off along with other 90s films like The Craft, Clueless, Jawbreakers (I think this still plays in Cinemax from time to time) so of course losing Schlesinger also was...rather, is hard. He’s done so much and he was supposed to be working on more and he’s left such a deep mark here for us, avid fans of American pop culture...I suppose, even the casual ones. Aside from his That Thing You Do, I’d also seen Josie and the Pussycats at some point. I don’t remember when, where...though I did watch some episodes of the cartoon on Cartoon Network (CN) so of course, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the film of it as well. He worked on a track or some tracks there, too.
2020 sucks. COVID 19 sucks. This global pandemic sucks. But at least there’re films, tv shows, music, stage musical plays turned movies (Jonathan Larson’s Tick, Tick...Boom! is coming to us soon with Andrew Garfield in the lead---I’m wary of Garfield being a forgettable actor since The Amazing Spider Man because Dane Dehaan was what made that for me, to be quite honest so I’m not so sure of him being Jon here and as a self-respecting Larson fan since Rent, I’d rather they casted Neil Patrick Harris/NPH since he was in the London stage for this way back anyway...) to keep us entertained and fine until then. What would it take for ‘rona, and I’m not talking about the American Corona beer here that’s really popular in the west coast, to go away? I, like the rest of you in self isolation or quarantine, tend to think so but I don’t think we’ll have any answer to that until the vaccines are well underway by spring next year. Or at least, that’s what health authorities and scientists tell us anyway. I get reminded of it often in the news and I only tune in to that once in a while now because even that, following that daily, breaks my mental faculties down due to stress and pressure and all and I can’t have that when I still have so much, at the back of my mind, to do.
But anyway, time to conclude this one with one of my favorite The Wonders songs, All My Only Dreams just to end on a good note, better than the last paragraph’s ending at least and to remember Schlesinger as well that we’d lost this year along with plenty others we’d met in passing who’ve also left this world especially due to COVID 19 complications. I know we know a lot of those. For me, it’s a distant relative or family member I’d known since young but don’t have particular fluffy bunny feelings for because of some things that happened between the guy and me growing up in the NCR/Caloocan City to be exact. There’s also my good friend and former co-worker’s only remaining parent, her dad and a few more, I’m sure. So I hope 2021 would be better but I doubt it...very much. It’s still looking pretty dim, grim and bleak from here, where I’m currently standing in 2020.
Before we really end though, COVID 19 is definitely not a hoax. It hasn’t been since the first cases started in Wuhan, China. It’s just, only been getting worse and still continue to claim lives and spread to more people even those at home. So as someone who comes from a household of mostly medical workers or health care workers here, we should really be very careful about and around it. Let’s take the necessary health protocols seriously like wearing a mask out and maybe the face shield too and always keeping the sanitizers, alcohols in our bags among others---hygiene and sanitation, disinfection. It may come off really anal of me and I am not anal (I don’t like people with Type A personalities in the first place, lol...I’m just a very cautious Virgo, really, and a Type X---mix of Type C and D personalities) but seriously, SERIOUSLY, I can’t stress this enough, COVID 19, the virus SARS-COV2, that causes it is real. Very real and once it’s in your system, it can go the fatal, deadly way or just the mild and you’ll recover later anyway way. It’s not picking which people should die next and which should not, really. It’s really just there making a mess of things that are already messy since the beginning. My point being, it’s just better if we don’t spread it or are careful enough not to contract it with following health protocols set by health experts, scientists to help us get by this...pandemic.
Well here’s to 2020 being over soon and 2021 creeping in on us soon enough.
P.S.
Billie Armstrong of Greenday upped a cover of That Thing You Do as a tribute to Adam and the youtube live of the Wonders coming together again to pay tribute to and celebrate Adam’s life may still be up on the ‘tube. I have yet to see the latter but enjoyed the former. They are just so...sweet and precious. Ugh. Adam Schlesinger, gone too soon indeed. :(
PPS
Another songwriter/contributor in the TTYD OST passed away last year, too. Rick Elias. Cause of death is brain cancer. I had a friend from college, young and so full of life and dreams, who passed away due to the same thing so I’m kind of aware how this goes. Ugh. Cancer sucks. All of these are just so...sad. Depressing, actually.
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#Adam Schlesinger#Kenny Rogers#american pop culture#USA#United States of America#That Thing You Do#Fountains of Wayne#music#entertainment#Hollywood#loss#COVID 19#2020#2020 is the worst year ever#what's next 2021?#A year in music#a year in american pop culture#a year in american rock and roll and pop music
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days with maria, stuart, and dipstick
how many times have you watched the sound of music? i’m guessing we’re in the same page if i answer countless. the do-re-mi song was the soundtrack of my childhood and just this week at the office, i randomly played it while thick raindrops fell on the window. it was a wednesday and i’m well aware that there was a typhoon and so i decided to warm myself by listening to songs that warmed my heart at the very least. in that way, i am not reminded of the gloomy manila skies and our sad reality. it’s how i set the vibe for me and hopefully everyone else in the office. i played jose mari chan’s classic christmas songs — the ones you always hear at the malls when it’s christmas season. my favorite is ‘christmas in our hearts’ for years and i just don’t seem to get tired of it. a filipino christmas wouldn’t be the same without that man’s tunes so i thank him for the soundtracks of many, many yuletide seasons. his songs reminded me of rainy afternoons where i drink hot choco with marshmallows and snuggle with white pillows and cozy blanket. my kind of peace and bliss. then i slowly drift to my own little world. that’s what sort of happened on wednesday after a good hour of listening to his christmas playlist. i was on a nostalgia high even after that hour so i decided to continue my fun. i switched to the sound of music’s playlist and i am suddenly all of eight years old again singing along (yes, i really did sing along while typing office documents) to the do-re-mi song. oh, the sound of my childhood. it has a special place in my heart that it became the first piece that i taught myself to play in the piano. i sometimes wish i also have a nanny maria who sings and dances and plays the guitar for me but i am still much grateful to mine who ushered and attended to my needs dutifully when needed. she was as young as maria, too! but we talked about boys and jammed to the hits of early 2000’s instead.
that julie andrews movie for sure has touched the lives of everyone across generations that even my mother, who is not fond of films, has a memory of it. and she knew the lyrics by heart to my great surprise! she is not the type to have memorized a song and so you can imagine what a revelation it was to me. she said that my grandmother always made an effort for them (my mother and her siblings) to watch those films and i’d like to applaud my grandmother with standing ovation for doing it. our childhood comes only once and i feel lucky to have grown up with films like that of the sound of music, annie, 102 dalmatians, stuart little, and baby’s day out to name a few. they are beautiful times to look back and happy memories to always keep. one of our staff then mentioned that she wasn’t able to watch those and i felt bad for her. see, this is why a happy childhood is essential because it can no longer be reversed. it’s a steady and sturdy foundation that first made us believe in the good and wonderful things in life outside the four walls of our homes and classrooms. so i narrated to that staff of ours the plot of the sound of music and stuart little as i played mary mary’s ‘put a little love in your heart’ as the soundtrack of the latter film. i’m not saying she had a bad childhood, it’s just that she is kind of missing out. at least i told her the plot, right? yes, because i tend to share — a lot.
those childhood movies lingered in my mind for the rest of the week and only made me remember of afternoons at our tita’s room in our hometown where me and my cousins would choose a vhs tape from the drawer underneath the television and we’d excitedly and carelessly plop ourselves down on her huge and tall bed with several layers of thick comforters, giant but soft pillows, and a bowl of freshly-microwaved popcorn, chips, or pack of crackers and then turn the lights off. ah, wonderful. truly the best of times. the cold breeze of airconditioner would gently touch our faces and shoulders and the lavender scent from the air freshener would calm our senses. we’re then absolutely ready for the thrill and adventure that await us. after twist and turns, few tumbles to the carpet, and sips of strawberry kool aid, everything became too dark and that’s when we’ve realized that two or three hours have already passed. by that time, we were called for dinner downstairs but we wouldn’t go down for another thirty more minutes because we’d still talk about the movie like we’re part of the von trapp’s or stuart’s family. we’d greet each other in the following days with “little high, little low” like how stuart greets margalo, the bird. we ship those two so bad! then there’s snowbell, the white fluffy always-hungry cat who i’ve always thought was a girl but found out to be a boy until only in the recent years. it has come to a point where we begged to have a cat just so we can call it snowbell but it never happened. instead, we were able to have a dalmatian dog and guess what we named it? ‘dipstick’ from the 102 dalmatians! he really resembled dipstick from the spots to its barks.
we wake up each day during those times like we are living in a disney movie and only the bad guys were cruella de vil and that falcon who stole mrs. little’s ring. we dress up dipstick, feed our blue and red parrots, talk and sometimes sing with our kiaw, buy avocado or milo-flavored ice candies worth five pesos from the lady across our house, run around our frontyard, play hide and seek, “bake” with whatever there was in the refrigerator, create a masterpiece out of sticks and rags and old paints because we feel like neil buchanan from art attack, and go to our family’s humble eatery every afternoon to have a merienda of arroz caldo or misua with pan de leche or puto on the side. my happy childhood times. gone they may be but i’m light-hearted for i know that i can always relive them — through a song or an image or maybe by rewatching the classics again. then i’d be transported back to those days with maria, stuart, and dipstick.
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helllooo ! PHEW this took me a hot MINUTE to write out but i’m finally done . i’m sam , your local dark academia & stevie nicks trash , and i bring forth my favorite Musical Theater Son Ari !! i have literally been on a straight up show tunes kick ever since binge watching the politican ( which isn’t even a musical just BEN PLATT ) and thus , enough about me , i present to you the real star of the show ... !!
INTRODUCING ...
did you hear how ARIEL ROSEN is applying to columbia university as a MUSICAL THEATER major ?! the TWENTY-TWO year old is living in the CARLTON ARMS. i heard that they got in because they are AMBITIOUS and FERVENT, but honestly i think HE can be INSECURE and COMPLIANT. they’re a real THESPIAN. oh well, only time will tell if the SENIOR will make it til the end.
full name : ariel nathaniel rosen ( it’s pronounced AHHH REE ELLE not AIR ree elle GET IT RIGHT or don’t talk to him )
nickname : ari , like ah - ree , and exclusively goes as such
birthday : september 30, 1997
zodiac : libra sun , aquarius moon , leo rising
nationality : american
ethnicity : jewish
religion : jewish
sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual , biromantic
hometown : los angeles , california
languages spoken : english
aesthetics : bright stage lights, secret playlists, the swish of a soccer ball catching net, black american express cards, muddy soccer cleats, old money
dream roles : guy ( once ) & emcee ( cabaret )
character parallels : troy bolton ( high school musical ) , nate archibald ( gossip girl ) , austin ames ( a cinderella story ) , neil perry ( dead poets society ) , andrew ( the breakfast club ) , pink ( dazed and confused )
background info !
born and raised in sunny los angeles , beverly hills to be exact
both his parents are in the entertainment business , his father is the ceo of a production company ( think warner brothers ) and his mom is a hot shot producer at the same company
he’s the youngest of three , with two older sisters , and greatness was always expected of the rosens . his eldest sister , lila , has just passed the california bar exam on her first try and is now working in entertainment law in los angeles . the middle child , ilana , is in grad school and studying to become a pediatric surgeon . and then there’s ariel .
ari was a good kid . in high school he was captain of the soccer team and was really really talented at the sport , he tutored underprivileged kids on tuesdays , had a high school sweetheart that his parents loved . he was beloved by the student body , he’d walk into a party and every guy would give him a high five , every girl would say hello . only he was hiding this huge secret that he felt like he couldn’t tell anybody .
he was a THEATER NERD . while out loud he would blast brockhampton & kendrick , if you took a look at his playlists you’d find endless amounts of show tunes . not that he’d ever tell anyone ! his parents may be in the biz , but it was strictly corporate . neither of them spared any time for the arts , at least not where their kids were concerned
he was the golden child , the only son , the baby boy . his mom totally coddled him and his dad had huge expectations for him . they were both thrilled when he received his acceptance letter from columbia , which happened to be the school his sister ilana was attending at the time . he got into the business school , where he would major in business and minor in economics & entertainment management whilst playing as center midfielder on the men’s soccer team
his first year and a half at columbia were swamped with late night studying , internships with major companies thanks to his dad’s hook ups , soccer practice and essentially no time for social life ( although being in a frat like delta psi helped out on that front , as even when he didn’t want to go out , they brought the party home )
but in the middle of his sophomore year he did something entirely brave ! he auditioned for a musical . an amateur production , neither a part of the school nor on broadway , but he landed the role and told virtually nobody , not even his friends .
at the end of his sophomore year , after the production had run its course , he took the leap , auditioning for columbia’s theater program . it was a huge shot in the dark , seeing as he’d already finished two years of undergrad as a business major , but shockingly ... he got in .
okay , not that shockingly . even without formal training , anybody could see the potential in ari when he gets on stage . the voice he’s got in him is undeniable , and acting just comes naturally . despite his somewhat timid personality , he takes the stage by storm every time . also , his last name carries some weight at the university , but that’s besides the point .
it’s been two years now since he switched majors and he’s been so much happier , though he has yet to tell his parents . he’s not sure when he’ll get around to that but it’ll certainly be later rather than sooner
personality !
ari is the nice guy . very much the “ lovable jock ” trope , he’s pretty soft . you could step all over him and he’d probably apologize to you tbh
that being said he’s got a winner’s drive , he’s an athlete after all , and can be incredibly determined when he wants to be
v smart , probably should have been in omega chi delta , but his jock reputation preceded him and plus , he likes drinking too much
he’s really not very flirty because he can be kind of shy ?? but get a few shots in him and he’ll talk you up ok
i feel like i’m missing some stuff but anyway ?? HERE is his pinterest board !
wanted connections !
best friend — probably a frat brother , PLEASE give me a bromance
platonic soulmate — the best friend , the gal , the one that everyone asks “ are you guys a couple ? ” to which they both disgustedly respond “ NO ! ” wren
freshman fling — i say fling but that was just for alliteration , it was probably a whole ass relationship . you see , ari came to columbia still dating his high school sweetheart , they were gonna do long distance , but this was the person that made him realize that there was so much more to the world he had to see and experience before committing to a girl he met at thirteen . they could’ve ended amicably or not !
teammates — WHAT TEAM ? LIONS ! WHAT TEAM ? LIONS ! LIONS ! GETCHA HEAD IN THE GAME !!! ok basically just soccer bois like give em to me if you’ve got ‘em . ari is a starting center mid and ?? i’m thinking team captain since he’s a senior now but
billionaire boys club — ok not just boys but give me all the rich kid plots like going out shopping for the day on the upper east side , dropping a thousand on a table at an exclusive club , jetting off to europe for the weekend . we have to stan
ex girlfriend — welp i have an hc that ari dated a girl for at least half of sophomore and all of junior year because he’s definitely a fully committal , all in kind of guy ( so it would’ve been a recent break up ) , but they broke up and we can figure out the details of why let’s get this angst nellie
secret hook up — it’s 2019 ari !!!! GAY IS OK . anyways this kiddo has completely come to terms with his sexuality he just doesn’t feel like his parents ever will . they kind of have his whole life planned out and a huge chunk of that is marrying a #NiceJewishGirl soooo ! this can be secret in the sense that ari doesn’t plan on telling his parents but they aren’t secretive about it at school , or it can be entirely secret idc ! soleil
theater friends — as a drama kid ... the freaking bond between your cast mates and the crew ?!?! phew ... gimme these bonds !!! also would love a plot where they were cast as romantic interests and had to spend the semester making out during rehearsals
business & econ major pals — ari spent his first two years at columbia in the business school , so i imagine a lot of his earliest friends were met through that ! mayhaps one of them was the earliest person he confided in about not actually wanting to do business
grad school friends — idk if any muses are grad school students but ! ari’s older sister ilana ( i might end up erasing her name and major and make her a wanted connection IDK I’LL SEE HOW I FEEL ) is 2 years older and went to columbia for undergrad , so i imagine when he was a freshman she introduced him to a lot of her friends ! so if any grad school muses also went to undergrad at columbia mayhaps they knew ari’s sister and yada yada ok this one was a loose connection but an attempt was made
#columbia.intro#wipes forehead#I spent Way Too Much time on that !#gimme a like and i'll slide into your dms tho :~)
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“Hey,” Kevin says as soon as Neil picks up, “are you home this weekend?”
Neil glances at the calendar tacked to the kitchen wall. The two cases are colored gray but empty.
“Sure,” he says. “Why?”
There’s shuffling on the other side of the phone. Kevin sounds distracted, his inability to concentrate on two things at once evident. “We were driving to Thea’s parents’,” he says, “but her father’s in the hospital.”
The coffeemaker beeps when it’s done, and Neil pours himself a mug. He’ll need it, if he wants to follow Kevin’s complicated conclusions.
“Okay?”
“Give me the phone,” he hears from farther off. “You’re confusing.”
“You’re driving,” Kevin points out. Neil guesses it’s not directed at him. He sits at the bar, reclining against the window, and lets the afternoon sun warm his shoulders.
“Then put me on speaker. I swear to god, Kev—”
The last part is definitely more audible. Thea’s brisk tone fills Neil’s ear over the low rumbling of an engine. “We have this charity event this evening and tomorrow. The plan was to drop Amalia at my parents’ on the way, but Dad got into a minor car accident.”
A lifetime with the Foxes has taught Neil how to react in such situations. Dutifully, he asks: “Is he alright?”
“Nothing major,” Thea brushes off. She’s an ex-Raven: anything short from losing the use of her limbs is probably a scratch for her. “But they’ll be stuck in the hospital all day, and Mom will be too nervous to take care of Amalia this evening.”
Neil sips his coffee, humming an answer. He eyes the clock. He probably has time to go to the store and clean the apartment before they arrive.
“We’ll come back Sunday evening,” Thea’s saying in his ear. “Can we drop her off at yours?”
“Sure.”
Neil likes Amalia maybe even better than Matt and Dan’s daughters. She’s quiet and stubborn, and because Thea and Kevin were both obsessed with building their career first, she’s the youngest of all the Foxes’ children.
At this point, Neil knows how to take care of a two-year old for a short amount of time. Kevin at least thinks so, because he’s so cautious with his daughter that it’s sometimes ridiculous. From what Neil’s seen, children that age aren’t fundamentally all that different from Andrew’s tired days: quiet, the television on as background chatter, and ice cream will keep them happy for a night.
“Thank you,” Kevin says. “We’ll be here in two hours.”
“I’ll warn Andrew,” Neil says.
“Please tell him to finish all the ice cream before we arrive.”
“Not a chance. I need a bargaining chip.”
“That’s not how you raise children—”
“See you,” Neil cuts, and he hangs up before Kevin can finish his spiel. For someone who was raised underground by an emotionally abusive family, Kevin can be very uptight about his approach of education. Maybe it’s because of it. Neil doesn’t have a big frame of reference either, but at least he knows what not to do.
Andrew wanders into the kitchen as soon as Neil hangs up, which means he definitely heard Kevin’s name and chose to step out of the conversation. Neil watches him putter around the kitchen, putting aside the leftovers from lunch and neatly side-stepping every attempt of King’s to tie his body into knots between Andrew’s legs, then he announces: “We’re having Amalia for the weekend.”
“You can take her to the park,” is Andrew’s response, but he doesn’t express further dismay. He might be used to it. Neil smiles in his mug in silent victory.
Kevin and Thea arrive just before five, Kevin carrying Amalia in his arms and Thea a large bag.
“Here,” she tells him. “You’ll need it.”
Neil doubts it, but Thea also loves saying ominous shit with a smirk, so he nods and accepts the bag. On top of it are folded small toddler-sized clothes. Neil blinks at it, momentarily thrown. How stupid that clothes should be so small and toy-like. Maybe he’s spent too much time with the Boyd-Wilds children and their dolls.
“Wait till you see the shoes,” Kevin mutters as he passes him in the hallway.
“Want to stay for a cup of coffee?” Neil asks as they spill in the living room, where Andrew raises his head from his phone then refuses to acknowledge the company. Thea rolls her eyes at him.
“No, we should go,” Kevin says. “We still have to drive all the way back.”
“We can be here by tomorrow morning,” Thea says. “Before noon?”
Kevin’s been sober for the past twelve years, which is why Neil knows they’ll be here when they say they will, even after a long night of schmoozing. He glances at Andrew, who doesn’t react. “Fine by me,” he shrugs.
Kevin’s phone rings and he takes Amalia with him in the hallway to answer it while Thea takes over the instructions. Some things are basic, others are more surprising. Apparently, Amalia likes being read a story before bed, which Neil vaguely attributes to Kevin’s influence on her being so precocious. It’s too much for him to remember, but Thea assuages his fears when she tells him she wrote him a list.
“Then why are you telling me?” he asks.
“Because it makes me feel better about leaving my only daughter with people who I know are not used to babysitting.”
Fair enough. Neil has sometimes watched the other Foxes’ children, but he’s not an expert at it by far. Andrew’s marginally more natural at it than he is, but he also cares a lot less.
“It’ll be fine,” Neil promises her.
“Sure I shouldn’t be the one telling you that?”
Neil refuses to rise to the bait.
Kevin comes back after having hung up with his publicist, slowly shaking Thea and himself into going. Not minding their words, Amalia squirms in his arms when she sees the cats. He puts her down gently with a reminder not to scare the animals, and she stomps toward Sir, who gets up and leaves just before Amalia can reach her.
“Kitty!” she calls, starting after her. Andrew intercepts her when she speeds past the couch, one hand splayed on her little chest.
“Cats don’t like it when children chase after them,” he says. “Don’t do it.”
“No,” she says, stomping her foot. “I wanna pet.”
“You can if the cat wants it too.”
“Amalia, remember what I said?” Kevin crouches next to her. “Let them come to you.”
“Yes.”
She sits on the floor, turned toward King, who gazes at her from the back of the couch, blind to her parents’ hurriedly putting their coats back on. She hasn’t made any progress with either of the cats by the time Thea comes back for her.
“We have to go now, sweetie,” she says. “You’ll stay with Neil and Andrew for the night, alright?”
Amalia whips around. “Why?”
“Because we have a meeting to attend.” Kevin holds out his hand until she catches his fingers. Her hand is so small she can only grip two of them. “Boring stuff, like when Karen visits, yes? You’ll have much more fun with your uncles.”
Neil meets Andrew’s eyes over the huddled family. Andrew’s still steadfastly pretending to ignore they have guests, but Neil knows it has to surprise him almost has much it does Neil to see Kevin so patient. He spares a fleeting thought of dread for Amalia’s teenage years.
Finally, Kevin and Thea rise, say one last good bye—with a kiss for Amalia, though Neil neatly sidestep when Thea unthinkingly leans down toward him as well.
The door’s barely closed on them before Amalia starts to cry.
“Andrew,” Neil hisses through his teeth, when picking her up and bouncing her a few times does nothing.
Andrew pads to them. “Stop crying,” he says. “They’re coming back.”
Amalia hides her face in Neil’s shoulder, immediately spreading tears and snot on the fabric. Andrew shrugs, looking at Neil as if to say, “it’s your problem now,” and leaves.
“Thanks,” Neil mutters. “Very useful.” To the crying child in his arms, he says: “You want ice cream?”
The hiccups stop. Amalia looks up at him, sniffling, and asks: “Chocolate?”
“Sure.”
Andrew is already digging out the ice cream container from the freezer; he prepares a second bowl when Neil asks him to, with a much smaller scoop.
“Here.” He drops the bowl on the table, in front of Amalia who’s sitting on Neil’s lap because they have no highchair for her. Do two-years old still need highchairs?
“You can eat,” Neil encourages when Amalia just stares at the bowl. He almost thinks about feeding her himself, to avoid the kind of war scene he walked in on when Matt and Dan’s children were babies. Chocolate doesn’t wash easily, especially considering Andrew’s wearing his favorite sweater.
“Cold,” Amalia complains, squirming in Neil’s lap. “Warm please?”
“It’s ice cream,” Neil tells her. “It’s supposed to be cold.”
But Amalia just repeats: “Warm please?” in a smaller voice, until Andrew takes the bowl into the microwave. He lets it in only for a handful of seconds; when he sets it back on the table most of the ice cream has thawed into a melted mess.
Amalia seems happy. She tucks in easily, slurping the chocolate soup noisily.
“You okay?” Neil asks Andrew as they both watch her with incredulous eyes.
“Not a word,” Andrew replies, taking his own ice cream into the living room.
Amalia swings her little legs when she eats. Neil learns to tuck his in so she doesn’t kick him in the shins, and he’s relieved when he sets her down after she finishes her ice cream. Luckily King pads into the room just then, and Amalia is further distracted from her parents’ absence.
“Kitty,” she says. King looks up from his grooming, but doesn’t leave. “Kitty come here.”
She plops herself down in the middle of the room, uncaring of Neil who has to almost step over her to put her bowl and spoon in the sink. By the time he turns back around, King has approached close enough for Amalia to pat his head a bit forcefully.
“Careful,” Neil says. “Be gentle. He has very delicate bones.”
Amalia’s next stroke is gentler than the first, causing King to come closer, bowing his back until her hand is gliding from head to tail. She is gentle when she gets the hang of it, serious and intent in a way that reminds Neil of her parents. Her face breaks into a grin when King rubs his head against her, purring loudly with each pat.
They eat dinner much earlier than they’re used to, because at seven Amalia tugs on Neil’s pant leg and tells him seriously asks him when’s dinner.
“Soon,” Neil says, trying to remember if Thea said or wrote anything about dinner time. “We still need to prepare the food, though. Do you want to help?”
Amalia says, “No thank you.” She turns back to the television, where they’ve managed to find a program for children. She might be too young for it anyway, but at least she doesn’t complain while playing with her construction cubes.
“Alright then,” Neil mutters.
Andrew trails his fingers down Neil’s spine when he walks behind him, pressing just enough at the small of his back to make him turn around. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. “You don’t know what children eat.”
“Whereas you have the same diet as them,” agrees Neil.
Andrew shrugs. He crouches next to Amalia, diverting her attention from her cubes. “Do you like pasta?” he asks her.
“Yes,” she says gleefully. “And ham. And cheese.”
She gestures toward him, shuffling closer until he holds out his hands. She reaches for his fingers like she did with Kevin, shaking them up and down like a toddler version of a handshake. Andrew lets her, stony-faced but relaxed enough that Neil knows he’s not feeling anything other than surprise.
Neil smiles. He takes his phone out of pocket, makes sure to catch Andrew’s eye, and snaps a picture. Then he retreats into the kitchen to start boiling water.
By the time Andrew makes it into the kitchen with Amalia stuck to his side like a mussel to a rock, the pasta is almost done and Neil has saved the picture to his drafts.
“Can I send it to them?” he asks Andrew, who comes closer to the stove to look. Neil catches Amalia’s hand when she reaches for the boiling pot. “It’s too hot,” he warns her. “You’ll burn yourself.”
Andrew glances at the picture and taps on the send button without a word. He puts his load on a chair, where she barely comes above the table level, and disappears back into the living room.
The evening after that is quiet. Amalia eats what she’s given, although none of them tries to make her eat anything more adventurous than an apple cut in very small pieces for dessert, and she miraculously goes to bed when told to.
Neil forgets the bedtime story, so he sneaks back to the living room, crossing his fingers that Kevin and Thea thought to include a book in the bag they’ve packed. He lets out a relieved sigh when Andrew unearths a picture book from the bottom of the bag.
“She wanted me to do the voices,” he complains to Andrew later. “Who cares if the donkey sounds the same as the elephant? It’s not that big of a deal.”
“She’s two,” Andrew said, lifting his legs to make room for Neil on the couch. “Everything is a big deal.”
Neil groans, falling sideways until his face is more or less in Andrew’s lap, chest pressed uncomfortably to his shins.
“Remind me never to have children,” he jokes. Andrew looks at him over the rim of his glasses.
“Somehow I think we’ll manage to avoid that.”
Sir jumps on the couch with them, so they rearrange themselves until Neil’s lying on Andrew and offering the plane of his back to the cat. It’s comfortable, to feel Andrew’s stomach rise and fall with every breath and the vibrations of Sir’s deep purr down his back. He can almost understand why Amalia clings to every adult she meets like she does. It’s barely past nine, but Neil falls asleep more easily than he’s done in a long time.
#aftg#all for the game#andreil#tfc#the foxhole court#kevin day#thea muldani#my writing#uhhhh idk#the amount of googling i had to do for this is... over the top#children are weird!!
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The Truth Behind It
Neil finally makes a Twitter account the year after he leaves the Foxes. His PR has been nagging him about making a social media account since he joined the team but ultimately he uses it to annoy Andrew. Of course things escalate and the rumours of a rivalry between the two form, that is until Neil clarifies everything.
You can also read it on [AO3]
As always a big thank you to @velvetnoodle for being such a wonderful beta!
Neil is lying on the sofa of his empty apartment staring at the ceiling. The match he had been watching in the TV just ended and now the post game interviews are about to start; the sound of Andrew’s voice coming from the screen draws his attention back to the TV. He grabs the remote to turn the volume up and sits up on the couch to pay attention.
He can’t help but be surprised when he sees Andrew’s blank face right next to his team captain ready to do the interview. Andrew never liked to do this sort of thing and has always left that pretty clear in the past. But this wasn’t college anymore, they were now playing for professional teams and the contracts they signed were different, interviews and the occasional photos were part of their careers as professional athletes.
But that doesn’t mean that Andrew would go there and put on a smile for the cameras and pretend to be nice like Kevin does. No, Andrew will be there because that’s what’s required of him. Nothing else.
Neil is amused at the whole interview; Andrew either ignores the questions thrown at him or gives the shortest answers possible. And when it becomes clear that the reporters are no longer asking Exy related questions, Andrew just exits the room leaving his captain behind.
When the interview is over, Neil’s phone starts beeping so he fumbles on the couch in search of it. When he unlocks it he finds a message in his chat with Allison. It’s only a screenshot, and when Neil clicks to expand it he can see that it’s from a tweet of Nicky just saying next with laughing smiles and then Andrew’s reply to it saying You’re next.
Neil snorts. When did Andrew get a Twitter account? Maybe his PR had him make an account just like they’ve been asking Neil to do. He puts his phone away and watches the sports channel that is currently showing a game from the past season. But he doesn’t pay too much attention to it; he keeps thinking about what Allison showed him so he grabs his phone again and decides to download Twitter to try the damn thing. It will get his PR off his back and he can tease Andrew a bit.
He makes an account in a few minutes, and then he proceeds to type his first tweet.
@JostenN10: Who let @AJMinyard loose near the press?
In no time his phone begins to beep like crazy. People are beginning to follow him and retweet what he said, including some of the Foxes. Neil follows his friends back, and takes some time to figure out how to disable all the notifications except for theirs. He gets distracted trying to read what they’ve tweeted to each other lately until a notification letting him know that Andrew had just mentioned him appears.
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 Mind your own damn business.
He smiles at his phone when he reads Andrew’s reply and gets up to prepare to go to sleep. His phone rings a few minutes later so he lays down and answers it. “Are you banned from interviews yet?”
“Not yet,” Andrew replies.
Neil begins to grin; of course Andrew will try to make it happen soon. He turns off his lamp and makes himself comfortable in bed to talk to Andrew. They haven’t seen each other in two weeks and Neil misses him. “You still coming here next weekend?”
“Yes,” Andrew answers, and then he proceeds to tell Neil about the book Renee let him borrow a few days ago when she went to visit him.
And like most nights they don’t talk for long as they both have practice in the next morning. So after Neil tells Andrew about his teammates becoming really stressed about the upcoming matches, they hung up to get some sleep.
***
A few days pass, and Neil’s team wins a game where he scores an impossible shot. Once he’s dressed after the game he comes to sit on his car to make some time for the stadium to clear out.
He checks his phone to see what time it is, but finds that he has a few notifications on Twitter so he clicks to open it. He sees several of the Foxes congratulating him about the game. All except for one.
@NickyHe: What an amazing shot @JostenN10, so proud!!
@AJMinyard: @NickyHe you forgot the part that he face planted himself into the plexiglass. Bravo.
Neil snorts when he reads what Andrew sent him and immediately begins to type his answer.
@JostenN10: Fuck you @AJMinyard
He then puts his phone away and drives back to his apartment. Once he arrives, he takes off his shoes and sits on the couch, the adrenaline of the game has passed and Neil feels his legs giving out.
He takes out his phone from his pocket to call Andrew. “I’m probably going to be told off tomorrow for that,” he comments, remembering his PR warning him to think about what he posts online because it could impact him and his team.
“Tell that to someone who cares,” Andrew replies and Neil can hear the slight amusement in his voice. “They should just ban you from social media before it’s too late.”
“Probably,” Neil agrees. “If they were smart they would ban us both, just to be safe.”
Andrew hums and for a few moments neither of them speak. Andrew is going to stay over during the weekend so Neil walks to his fridge and opens freezer to check if he still has ice cream for him. He sees a container of Andrew’s favorite flavor and grabs it.“Your ice cream container is almost empty, do you want me to buy a different flavor or the same one?”
Andrew doesn’t answer right away and sounds like he’s walking around. So while he waits for Andrew to answer, Neil closes the freezer and starts to look at the take out menus to think about what he’s going to order for dinner.
“The same,” Andrew tells him.“You going shopping tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but I should be back before you arrive,” Neil replies.
***
Almost two weeks later, Neil’s sitting in the locker room putting away his things in a gym bag and he can feel the tense atmosphere of his team in the air. They just lost an away game and it will make it difficult for them to move to the next round. So he takes a deep breath, closes his bag and follows his teammates in silence.
On his way to the parking lot Neil checks his phone and goes on Twitter where he sees he has several mentions from the others about the match. He’s not really in the mood to talk about it, so he ignores them until he notices that Andrew also mentioned him.
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 I thought you knew how to run
@JostenN10: @AJMinyard At least I played, what did you do on your last game?
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 You have a death wish
After a short drive, his team gets back to their city. Neil leaves the team bus and enters his car, feeling slightly calmer after bickering with Andrew. He begins to drive and only checks his phone again when he stops at a gas station, and he sees that he has a message from Andrew.
Andrew: How long?
Neil: At the gas station, 20min
Neil pays for the gas and buys some chocolate bars for Andrew that were in the counter. When he enters the car and throws the chocolates to the other seat he realizes that it’s getting late and he’s getting hungry so he sends another message to Andrew.
Neil: Indian tonight?
Andrew: Yes. Number 37?
Neil: Yeah and Naan bread
Once he arrives at Andrew’s apartment he opens the door and Andrew calmly gets up from the couch to stop in front of him. Neil silently drops his bag to the floor and holds up the chocolates one in each hand in front of them.
Andrew spares them a glance and holds Neil’s hands with his own. “You can live. For now,” he comments and Neil can see that he’s amused. Then he moves forward and kisses Neil for a moment, and just as quickly Andrew steps back taking the chocolates with him. “Dinner should be arriving anytime now,” he informs him turning his back to Neil.
“Good,” Neil says, thinking that he’s quite hungry and follows Andrew into the living room to wait for dinner to be delivered.
***
Neil takes a deep breath and steps into the room full of reporters to follow his captain. He was put to press duty because the reporters have been asking why he never makes them, so of course they sent him today with the warning to watch his mouth.
After a few questions about the match they just had, one reporter changes the subject. “You seem to have a rivalry with your former teammate Andrew Minyard, care to comment?”
“No,” He replies, trying not to roll his eyes at the so-called rivalry that, according to Allison, everyone has been talking about.
“Are you excited to go against him next week?”
“Yes, I can’t wait to see him,” he replies and fights the urge to smile when he thinks about Andrew and the time they’ll get to spend together next weekend.
“There’s some rumors going around that while you were at Palmetto you two didn’t get along?” another reporter immediately asks, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he hates me,” Neil says to the camera with a grin, choosing to let them interpret that however they want.
Later that night he checks in at the hotel where his whole team is staying before they fly back to their city in the morning. He goes to his room and opens the window to light a cigarette on the small balcony. He breathes in the smell of smoke and once the cigarette is gone he thinks about calling Andrew so he grabs his phone. He unlocks it and notices that he has a notification from Twitter and opens the app.
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 You’re right, I do hate you.
His heart skips a beat after reading Andrew’s message from two hours ago. He stares at the message for a few moments but ultimately realizes that is already quite late and he doesn’t want to wake Andrew, so instead of calling him tonight he only answers him on Twitter.
@JostenN10: @AJMinyard Good
***
After the game between their teams, Neil silently follows his team into the locker room to wait for their turn to do the post-game interview. His coach comes inside and turns the TV on so that they can watch the other team’s interview. Andrew’s team won and Neil almost has the urge to roll his eyes when he sees that they sent Andrew to do the interview.
“Andrew, what was it like to play against your former captain?” a reporter asks as soon as he steps into the room.
“Interesting,” Andrew replies with a blank face.
“You confirmed on Twitter that you hated him - did something happen between the two of you?” another one asks.
Andrew turns to the side to look the reporter in the eye before he answers. “You could say that.”
“Would you like to share some details about that? The fans have been wondering what happened to the two of you; even Kevin Day won’t comment about it.”
“It’s good to know that someone has learned to shut their mouth,” is all Andrew says, ignoring the question completely. And then he turns around as if preparing to leave.
“Just one more question; did you had a chance to speak to Josten after the game?”
Andrew pauses after hearing Neil’s name being brought up again. “If only there were days were I didn’t have to fucking deal with him,” he says without looking at the cameras. “I’m done with this,” he adds, and then leaves.
A few minutes pass, and Neil follows his captain to do the interview for his team. As soon as he’s in front of the cameras the reporters don’t even ask about the game, choosing instead to try and see if Neil can give them more information about the situation with Andrew.
“Neil care to comment about your rivalry with Andrew?”
“Rivalry?” Neil asks, feigning confusion.
“Yes, the public is concerned about what really happened between the two of you and why you hate each other so much.”
“Oh, that,” Neil begins to grin; their so called rivalry is what is making his PR send him to press duty after every game. The press has been dying to know more about them.
“Andrew didn’t say anything about it in his interview moments ago, but can you give us an inside scoop? Did you guys have a serious fight while you were in the same team?
“What?”
“Andrew has been known to have violent tendencies. Did something happen?” another reporter quickly asks.
“What? Fuck, no.” Neil says, no longer grinning. Fuck the reporters; they’re only interested in the gossip that could make them sell more and they were going too far with their assumptions. He doesn’t want anyone to think that about the two of them, so he turns around and leaves before he says something he really shouldn’t. He did swear on camera, but his PR should be proud that he shut his mouth after that and walked away.
Later that night they’re both back at Andrew’s apartment in bed and Neil has been scrolling through Twitter for the past half an hour reading a lot of opinions about their so-called fight, and he’s just done with the whole thing. At the beginning, it was fun to tease Andrew and watch everyone start to wonder why, but now it was all getting out of control. He takes a deep breath and looks at Andrew by his side. “I’m tired of this stupid rivalry.”
Andrew stops reading his book and looks back. “It is getting boring,” he comments, and when he sees that Neil isn’t going to add anything else for now, he turns his attention back to the book.
Neil goes back to Twitter and sees that Nicky’s making jokes about the interviews they did today and commenting about the whole situation between them. Neil decides to reply to one of Nicky’s tweets that is full of laughing and crying smiles.
@NickyHe: @AJMinyard He really hates @JostenN10
@JostenN10: @NickyHe @AJMinyard He really does. Especially today since I scored him so many goals
Neil can hear Andrew’s phone vibrating from the notification and watches him grab his phone to check it so he waits, looking at his own phone to see if he’s going to reply.
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 I hate you everyday. Now shut the fuck up, you’re distracting me
Neil snorts and begins to type his reply:
@JostenN10: @AJMinyard Is that a threat?
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 It is now
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t let me finish this book tonight
@JostenN10: @AJMinyard I’m not afraid of you
Out of the corner, of his eye he sees sudden movement and reflexly brings his arm up to defend himself. He isn’t fast enough, however, so he feels a object hitting him on the head. He grabs it to check what it is and sees the book Andrew was just reading. Andrew had just thrown the book at him without any force behind it so Neil looks to his side and grins. He’s met with Andrew looking at him with an eyebrow raised, as if daring him to do something about it. So Neil keeps the book against his chest and grabs his phone once again.
@JostenN10: @AJMinyard just fucking threw the book at my head!
Then Neil, still grinning, turns to look at Andrew again, wondering if it would be okay to post a picture of them together to just end this mess once and for all.
“Staring,” Andrew comments turning to the side and props up his head with his hand to look back at Neil.
“Can I post a picture of us?”
Andrew stills for a moment, clearly not expecting that.“Yes,” he tells him after a moment. “Now give me back the book.”
Neil turns on his camera, takes a picture and gives him back the book. He shows the picture to Andrew and once he glances at it and returns to focus on his book, Neil posts it. It’s a picture of him seated on his bed holding the book and looking at the side grinning, where you can see half of Andrew’s side looking back at him.
@AJMinyard: @JostenN10 You should’ve learned how to duck by now
(And the media goes crazy.)
#andreil#aftg#aftg fic#andreil fic#tfc#tfc fic#andrew minyard#neil josten#social media#twitter#exy#interviews#minyard-josten rivalry but not really
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[MINI FIC] The Salted Earth
He first meets Riko on a Wednesday.
Ichirou pulls up to the front of the school in his expensive black car, and then out piles Neil, unconcerned. He is wearing Andrew’s jacket.
The weather is shitty and cold, rain drenching everything and making puddles that are too deep and frustrating. It is just as disagreeable as the short teen, with his smudged black eyeliner and the hunch of his shoulders against the rain. His black hair brushes his eyes, as spiked as the studs on his boots. He has metal everywhere; three piercings on his right ear, two at the bottom and a ring at the top. His left has two normal studs.
Seth was waiting for Neil—his friend, his lab partner, the annoying redhead that Seth somehow ended up adopting alongside Matt. Of course, Neil is essentially a foster kid, and his pseudo-family consists of the two most disagreeable brothers in town.
Neil has mentioned that Ichirou isn’t as bad as he looks. He has also said that Riko is just as bad as he looks, but worth the effort.
“Fucker,” Riko hisses, sharp and annoyed, flicking rain from his hoodie. Seth watches with vague interest. Maybe Riko feels the eyes on him, because he looks up, mouth set in a scowl and eyebrows drawn together. His gaze is stormy when he finds Seth looking at him.
Seth is curious. He is curious about this small, angry person and why Neil says Riko is worth the effort.
Riko just stares up at Seth and gives him the middle finger.
“We’re gonna be late,” Neil says.
Seth unsticks his feet from the ground and starts to walk down the covered sidewalk. He does not look back at Riko.
He might want to, though.
Second half of the year. It’s time for freshman to switch one of their classes out, and for Seth, that means he goes from having Art I to having Art II.
He didn’t want to take art, but a teacher saw him sketching out plans for his truck and suggested the class. It’s been a throwaway for him.
Riko comes in the first day of class, stomping, his chin in the air, and Seth almost laughs. Riko shoves a hand through his hair, fingernails black and chipped, and catches Seth’s eye.
He flips him off again. Seth is beginning to think it’s Riko’s way of saying hello.
They are supposed to practice shading. Seth ignores the assignment as usual, because he has a picture of a very nice engine in his notebook and he would rather explore the intricacies of how it fits together.
He is not paying attention; he has his chin in his hand, a distant tune in his head as his pencil scratches on the paper.
Seth is not prepared when Riko leans onto his desk, mirroring Seth’s pose, obsidian eyes roving the paper on the table. “Not bad. Cliché, though.”
“Your belt is from Hot Topic.”
Riko’s lip curls. “You know it’s from Hot Topic.”
This is how Riko and Seth become friends. Sort of.
“You fucker.”
Seth smirks. “That’s one of your favorite words, isn’t it?”
A kneaded eraser flies at Seth’s head. Riko beckons, demanding, and Seth rolls onto his side to reach for the gray lump. There’s grass stuck to it. He dusts it off before dropping it in Riko’s waiting hand.
Riko kicks Seth’s shin as he withdraws, a scowl on his lips. He absently rubs his left eye with his free hand; the eyeliner smudges even more. Seth ignores the kick; he has long since become resigned to being permanently bruised, there.
“How are you not done? It’s just a cup. All you have to do is shade it.”
Riko glares over the top of his sketchbook. “I didn’t study art, dickwad.”
“Right. Your expensive education focused on singing, instead. Gay.”
“And your poor ass didn’t have friends, so you scrawled on food stamps with a stubby pencil.”
This should be a fight. It is, in a way.
Except they’re safe.
That is the point, Seth thinks. It has always been the point. Riko can kick and hit as much as he wants, but Seth is six foot two and Riko is barely five-five. Seth has nine inches on Riko. It’s a gap that never fails to make him laugh, but always silently, because if Riko notices, his kick is sharper than it should be.
Anyway, their fighting is safe. They hit where it should hurt, but it doesn’t, because Seth passes Riko the eraser and Riko rubs Seth’s shin with his free hand, right in the spot where it bruises.
And this is safe.
Something has happened. Seth does not know what. All he knows is that Neil calls him, says Riko is on his way, and then Seth is unlocking his front door and turning his porch light on.
He lives in a trailer that will never move. It sits heavy on the ground, and there is a makeshift garage that he put together right next to it. His truck sits covered outside, because the garage is for his parts and his workstation and the chair that Riko sits in when they are there together.
Seth has seen Riko on bad days. Days when he comes to school with eyes redder than normal, and no one questions the smeared eyeliner because it’s always messy. When Riko is dead on his feet and hasn’t slept but refuses to sleep.
So, Seth turns the light on. He flicks the switch and then pulls on a sweatshirt that Riko said he found, but it was new and exactly Seth’s size and it had the school’s basketball team on the front.
He waits.
Riko comes like a storm. He always does—sometimes a tornado, whirling and whipping things around him in a frenzy. Other times he is a hurricane, roaring dully before a crescendo, then simmering into silence before bursting again and finally dissipating.
He is always something. They are always something, Seth thinks, because they were born on stormy nights and have led even stormier lives, and they don’t know how to function without the howl of the wind or the lash of rain.
Seth watches Riko come up the dirt path. He is wet, as if he fell into the shower fully clothed, expensive black shirt and tight jeans clinging to his frame. The black pools around his eyes, down his cheeks, to the corners of his mouth. He is an approaching tsunami, and Seth does not bother to lash himself to anything. He is a cyclone that spins against Riko’s winds, and he can handle whatever will come.
The path leads to the porch. Riko stands there, chest heaving, his hands curled and his body full of potential. Brimming with unused torment.
Seth looks down at him. Examines the water or tears on Riko’s face. The fragmented anger. Sharp-glass eyes. “You running?”
Riko doesn’t even speak. What leaves his mouth is a snarl, and he comes flying, whatever demons are at his back biting him into a frenzy.
Riko is the skies beating down on the earth, so many fists, flying blindly and always hitting something. Seth takes the torrent, the fury, the screams. He takes every bit of it and doesn’t move, because he rotates counter-clockwise to this, and like gears, they grind against one another until they manage to burn out.
The storm ends. It ends with the same growl that began it, only this time, Riko sags and Seth finally holds him, arms around an empty body.
“You should let me go,” Riko says, tired and dry, scorched from his own fire.
Seth just ignores him; pulls him back into the trailer, shoulder nudging the porch light off as he goes. It’s dark inside. Only the light of the moon comes through the windows, cold, nearly as distant as Riko.
“I never do what I should.”
There is an unimpressed arch to Riko’s eyebrow. There usually is.
“How long has it been?”
Seth presses his pencil into the paper of the sketchbook. Makes a deep mark at the curve of the hand he is drawing. It is Riko’s, hung over the edge of the bed, fingers curved as if holding something delicate.
Riko presses. He always does. “You were never really together. But it was longer than the breakup, wasn’t it?”
“Shut up.”
His reply misses most of the usual venom. Seth should be angry, but—
—but. This is the one time he can’t. He can’t find it in him to be angry, because he saw it, and Allison did, and so did everyone else. Every fucking person.
“You are predictable,” Riko says, and it is more than Seth can deal with. More than usual, since he feels the sting of the you know as well as I do, and I don’t deserve this.
Seth is not sure whether he deserves it. He probably does, he thinks.
The sketchbook is tossed aside. Seth stares at the door. “Not now.”
Their code. Their escape. A way to pull back, because neither of them have had that luxury before, and it is important to have it now.
Riko slides off the bed. His socks thump quietly as he pads around Seth’s legs, and then he is standing over Seth, and then he is lowering himself to kneel there, like there is nothing unusual about straddling Seth’s legs and staring down at him.
“What are you doing?” Irritation. Seth itches to push him off. To yell, to explode, to do anything. To feel anything.
To feel anything about this. About being left. About leaving. About the entire goddamn world and the one lie he had to make himself normal. Fine.
Riko’s finger curves—curves, Seth thinks, and his fingers itch for his pencil—and then Riko tucks his hand under Seth’s chin. Patient. Like a cat, his eyes flickering sharply and finding something uncomfortable that Seth does not think he wants to know, much less say.
This is when Riko says, “Tell me to get off.”
“You’re being fucking stupid,” Seth says instead. He can’t lift his limbs. He is heavy. “I put up with your gay shit. Doesn’t mean you can climb all fucking over me.”
There’s that little pleased curve. That self-important smirk that Riko wears all the time, when he thinks he’s won an argument or when he makes Seth carry his lunch tray. When Riko gives Seth a gift of a leather jacket and says I won’t be seen with someone in such an abominable coat as the one you wear.
Riko digs his fingernails in. Biting; always biting, Seth knows, like a sharp wind or a cold rain. Stormy. This is just one more thing about Riko, and Seth accepted it before he knew how to name it. “Tell me no.”
“I’m not gay. Whatever it is you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”
I’m not wrong, Riko doesn’t say, but he tells Seth as much when he leans in. When his hands curl instead around the sides of Seth’s head, at the bars of the bed behind them. When Riko’s arm flexes a little, muscles taught and dragon tattoo shivering as he leans in. There are cherry blossom petals on his collarbone and Seth’s eyes are drawn to them, as always, counting like he counts the distance between them until—
—until Riko kisses him, paper-dry origami mouth that folds perfectly into every corner, and Seth’s fingers dig into the carpet because he does not want to throw Riko across the room. Because Seth is a ball of kinetic energy with nowhere to go, and Riko is taking it all from him like their lips are opposing charges. Like there is nothing particularly unique or groundbreaking about this, the meeting of two bodies that have always been in opposition and should never have met this way.
Riko leans back after a second, a little divot between his eyebrows, a defiant and angry glint to his black eyes. There is a hint of a sneer on his lips when he says, “I could be wrong, but I think that was weak.”
“I could bite you in half,” Seth says, because it is true, and he means it and Riko has a habit of imagining his is four times his size. Of raging like he is.
Riko just leans in, his smile curved and sharp, and says, “Please do.”
#aftg#all for the game#aftg fanfic#aftg fanfiction#aftg fic#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#riko moriyama#seth gordon#riko/seth#riko x seth#listen#this is my new ship#it's ridiculous and i love it#they are emo and punk babes
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Based on this prompt from @exyprompts
This got way longer than I meant it to be, and I probably did way more research than neccessary. Google probably thinks that I own a pregnant cat now.
In this au Neil is in witness protection after all the shit went down with his father
Also, Andrew and Neil are neighbors
They haven't officially met yet
Andrew absolutely does not wake up early to watch the cute boy on his jog. Nope. Not at all. He just happens to be sitting on the balcony at the same time
And since their balconies are next to each other, and they both tend to smoke late at night when they wake up from nightmares, they sometimes smoke silently together
Sir is Andrew's cat and King is Neil's.
And Andrew is perfectly fine dealing silently with his crush annoyance with his neighbor
Except there's a slight issue
You see, Neil has never owned a cat before. He found King while on a run and decided to take her in. While he did a bunch of research on toys to get her and what to feed her, he didn't know about getting her spayed
Andrew hasn't had the chance to neuter Sir. Nicky convinced him to get the damn thing when a coworker's cat had kittens because he thought Andrew was lonely. Andrew agreed just to get him to shut up. He knows he needs to get Sir neutered, but the vet closest to him doesn't care about the animals at all (He's the type who puts down healthy animals because of divorce and tries to sell owners a bunch of medicines they don't actually need) so he's waiting until he has the time to go to the one a few towns over that Renee swears by. It shouldn't really be an problem. He has an appointment booked and everything.
Well, it wouldn't be a problem so long as he didn't knock up another cat
Both Neil and Andrew allow their cats out on their balconies as they please. It's fine, they don't roam much except to visit each other (Andrew assumes King is a male cat and thus doesn't think twice about Sir not being neutered)
Eventually, Neil starts to notice that King keeps throwing up, and her stomach is getting bigger
Neil panics and rushes her to the vet (the one a few towns over, thankfully, because he's heard bad things about the local one from Dan and Matt) where he finds out that King is fine
Except, you know, she's pregnant
Neil, overbearing cat dad that he is, starts making a queening box and buying specialty food, supplies for the kittens, books about how to care for kittens, etc
What I'm getting at here is that he's carrying a lot of things that announce to the world that his cat is both a girl and pregnant
And, of course, because Neil's life is the cosmic equivilant to shattering 20,000 mirrors, his bag rips and drops all of it right as he's walking into the lobby of his appartment
Directly in front of Andrew
And Andrew is not normally the kind of person to help out of the kindness of his heart, but the completely overwhelmed look on cute runner boy's face as all of his purchased goods fall to the floor makes him reconsider that
And if it just so happens that this works as the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe flirt, well, no one needs to know
So Andrew helps Neil pick up the stuff and bring it to his appartment, while Neil rambles on about King and the pregnancy and how out of his depth he is
And Andrew thinks that this is the perfect way to get closer to his crush that Neil is such a mess of a human being that he has to help him out, for the poor animal's sake
(And, in the back of his mind, Andrew knows that Sir is probably the father. Andrew decides to keep this thought to himself for now)
So Andrew starts visiting a bit, taking care of King while Neil is out and helping Neil get everything ready. He makes sure that Neil has his number and keeps his phone charged so that if he isn't home when King goes into labor Neil can call him and maybe so Andrew could text the idiot
So of course at 7 am on a fucking Saturday, Andrew wakes to Neil pounding on his door and rushes over
Of course, cat labor doesn't actually require human input
Andrew knows this
He's not really there for King
He's there to stop Neil from being a hoverparent and stressing King out
He does this by sitting Neil down in the same room as King so they can keep an eye on her while they watch an Exy game, much to Andrew's disgust
It was the only thing that distracted Neil from worrying, so whatever, Andrew will watch stupid stickball
After a couple of hours, King is finally done with labor, having given birth to 3 adorable kittens
Two match King's black and cream tortoiseshell markings
But the last one is ginger and fluffy
Just like Sir
Andrew snorts. "Guess we know who the father is"
Andrew doesn't do guilt or regret. They're pointless
That doesn't mean that he doesn't acknowledge that if he had gotten Sir neutered earlier, Neil wouldn't be forced to take on the emotional and financial burden of kittens
And he knows it doesn't make sense, but maybe he feels something bad when he realizes that if he hadn't been there for the birth, his cat would be a deadbeat dad who abandoned his kids
Just like Andrew's father
So Andrew decides to help out where he can
He buys nursing mother food and drops the bag on Neil's balcony with a paper taped to it saying "child support"
Neil's laugh when he sees it absolutely does not make him blush
Andrew and Neil take turns watching over the cats to make sure they are okay
King, like the spoiled brat she is, adores the attention
Meanwhile Sir is getting antsy
His friend (girlfriend?) just disappeared out of the blue? Why won't she come out to play?
He sits on the balcony watching Neil's apartment, waiting for King to show up
Neil is the one who suggests a visit, to let Sir meet his kittens and to see how he reacts to them
He almost takes it back when he learns that sometimes male cats will attack kittens - he knows too well what it's like to fear your father - but ultimately, he decides to give Sir one chance, so long as he's supervised
So when the kittens are about 12 days old, Andrew brings Sir over to visit (with more "child support")
Both Andrew and Neil are ready to grab him if anything goes wrong
But Sir doesn't attack the kittens at all
At first he just watches King as she washes the nursing kittens, keeping his distance and observing
After a minute or so, he moves closer, coming up and sniffing at King, who watches him but doesn't move to react
Slowly, he begins to wash her head, purring softly
King steadily relaxes, accepting that Sir won't hurt their kittens, which makes Neil and Andrew relax as well
They spend the rest of the day together while the cats do their thing. Andrew makes Neil dinner because he has quickly learned that Neil can't cook more than basic meals
Andrew also forces Neil to watch something on tv other than exy games
"Seriously Josten, what the fuck is with you and stickball"
They end up binge watching "My Cat From Hell" until 3am, when they finally decide to call it a day
This quickly becomes routine for them. Andrew and Sir come over for dinner and to catch Neil up on pop culture
Neil thinks "Mythbusters" is interesting, but finds "Finding Bigfoot" stupid. He loves "Planet Earth," since he gets to learn things that he missed in school. His favorite is still "My Cat From Hell," though Andrew doesn't know why he expected otherwise from a man who channels the same energy as a 85-year-old crazy cat lady
(He eventually stops complaining that they're missing the game)
(Eventually)
Time passes quickly and soon the kittens are three months old and ready to find a new home
Neil wants to keep them, but acknowledges that he doesn't have the room or the money for 4 maybe 5 cats
Dan and Matt say they can take in one, Aaron and Kaitlyn ask for another, but Andrew and Neil are still looking for a home for the third
They don't want to give any of the kittens to someone they don't trust to take care of them, but neither of them are exactly social butterflies and none of their remaining friends or family can take in the last kitten
Andrew mentions it during one of his weekly meetings with Bee. She promises to look around and get back to him if she finds a suitable home
A few days later, she texts him and says that if the kitten is still available, she would love to adopt it.
Thirteen weeks after King gave birth, the kittens all go to loving homes
Dan and Matt adopt the oldest, Princess Lazyfluff, aka Princess, who takes after her mother's royal grace and her father's depleated energy levels
Aaron and Kaitlin get second-born Marquis Sweetums McCatterson, aka Mark ("No Nicky I am not calling her that ridiculous name"), a quirky kitten who only sits still when she wants to be pet
Bee gets the youngest, Dutchess Flooftail of Caterbury, aka Dutchess, who's curious but quiet nature makes her the perfect companion for Bee
(Eventually, Bee gets Dutchess trained as an emotional support animal to help patients who are in need)
Andrew and Neil are sad to see them go, but calmed in knowing that they will still see the kittens often and that their new families will take care of them properly
(And also in knowing that all of them, including King and Sir, are now spayed or neutered, since they are responsible cat dads and don't want any more suprises)
Neil is kind of worried that things will go back to how they used to be, with Andrew not talking to him, not coming over to visit every night. He does not like how that prospect makes him feel
But that night, like clockwork, Andrew shows up with Sir
"King is probably going to miss the kittens and I don't want her yowling to keep me up all night"
Of course, Andrew keeps coming after that night too
The only time Neil asks him why, Andrew claimed that he was doing his civic duty in making sure Neil eats real food and catching him up with the rest of the world
This goes on for another month, during which they also start to cautiously trade truths, revealing the parts of themselves they hid from everyone else.
Neil goes to visit Dan, Matt, and Princess. At some point Matt references Harry Potter and Neil snorts. The others are shocked that Neil actually understood what they were talking about, so Neil explains about his evenings hanging out with Andrew and Sir
Dan and Matt, confused, ask if they are dating. Neil is quick to say they aren't, they're just friends, but the idea is planted in his head
That night, as he and Andrew are eating dinner, Andrew notices how distracted he is and asks what's wrong
"Are we dating?"
Neil didn't really mean to blurt it out, and kind of regrets it when Andrew tenses up
"Do you want us to be?" Andrew asks cautiously
And Neil thinks about the quiet companionship. He thinks of Andrew's presence calming him after nightmares and during King's labor. He thinks about the worry in his gut when he thought Andrew was going to go back to ignoring him. He thinks about how his kitchen is arranged how Andrew likes it, how his couch is covered in Andrew's blankets and pillows, how King and Sir are never seen apart anymore, how seamlessly their broken edges fit together. How Andrew learned his truths without flinching
Neil nods, uncertain of how to proceed
Andrew leans in, eyes moving to pointedly look at Neil's mouth then back to his eyes
"Yes or no?"
"Yes," Neil answers, the first of many, many more
#andreil#aftg#all for the game#andrew minyard#neil josten#aftg fic#aftg fanfic#paragade interrupts#i cant remember my writing tag so#also i literally hit the limit on the amount of bullet points you can use#this is a psa to spray or neuter your cat#if the read more doesnt work im so sorry but im on mobile and cant check#long post
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Equivalent Exchange Part 2
(Hey guys...so...I did a thing. Enjoy.)
Equivalent Exchange Part 1: Human Transmutation
Chapter One: We Meet Again
Alchemy.
The science of understanding, deconstructing, and reconstructing matter. However, it is not an all-powerful art. It is impossible to create something out of nothing, if one wishes to obtain something, something of equal value must be given. This is the law of equivalent exchange, the basis of all Alchemy.
In accordance to this law, this is a taboo among Alchemists. Human Transmutation is strictly forbidden.
For what could equal the value of a human soul?
Neil was getting so damn sick of reading about alchemical rules and finding nothing.
There was always a limit to information, always a barrier he couldn’t break through in the end, because the military controlled it. Even his five or so months in Xing didn’t leave him with much to show for it, though he had a very complex understanding of Chi, or better known as ‘The Dragon’s Pulse’.
Alkahestry was interesting, and for a few moments, he actually believed it would hold some sort of key to getting Andrew’s soul from beyond the Gate.
False hope.
Despite Alkahestrists being capable of higher levels of medical transmutation than Amestrian Alchemy, there was no method of seeking out souls who have already passed beyond the Gate. He’d hit a brick wall in Xingese Alkahestry, and found himself back in Amestris.
Learning about the Philosopher Stone was merely coincidental.
He’d been in Liore for a few months, following rumors of a man who could bring the dead back to life, and he’d been there when Edward and Alphonse Elric had torn the holy man from his pedestal and disproved all of the religious faith.
Another brick wall. It was time to move on.
He wasn’t fast enough though.
He came face to face with the Elric brother’s again at the train station.
“Oh hey! I know you!”
“Brother, wait!”
Neil heard their voices, but he didn’t stop.
“Wait! Hang on! You’re the kid with the cool arrays right! N-Neil? Neil!”
Ed’s voice came again, and Neil faltered. That little hitch in his step was enough for the short blond Alchemist to catch up.
“That’s right! Neil!”
Neil turned, only to see the Fullmetal Alchemist barreling towards him at full speed.
“Brother!”
Neil opened his mouth to yell, and stopped, closing it again just as Ed ran passed him. He watched the blond go by, confusion on his face as Ed skid to a stop and made his way back at a slower jog. The clunking sound of a large suit of armor came from Neil’s left and he looked over to see Alphonse.
“Neil! Hey! I wanted to talk to you, it’s been nearly a full two years since the last time we’ve seen you. Where’s Andrew? I wanted to ask about that array on his… Neil?”
He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate unless…
Neill took a breath, and lifted his hands.
‘Hello, Ed’ Neil signed.
Ed’s face twisted in confusion, and just as fast, suspicion.
“Brother.” Al spoke, having finally caught up and sidled beside Ed, looking at Neil. “I think he is mute.” With careful metal hands, Alphonse pulled out a small notebook and pencil from Ed’s coat pocket, handing the two to Neil without another word.
Neil smiled tightly, opening to a clear page without trying to go through any of the pages already filled with coded writing. He didn’t have enough time to crack the codes there anyways, despite the fact that he was sure they would have more information on the Philosopher Stone than he did.
‘I am mute. Andrew is gone. I’m afraid I committed the same mistakes you two have in the past.’ Neil didn’t really have a reason to lie at this point. His words would make it clear that, though Ed and Al could detain him for committing the ultimate taboo, Neil had knowledge of their sins too. Equivalent exchange. Neil inwardly smiled at his ironic thought.
When he passed the notebook back and waited for the brothers to read, he thought about the Andrew’s Knuckles in his pocket. He thought about the mass of… something that had been left when Neil had attempted to bring him back. The thought about the vial of Andrew’s blood he still had tucked against his chest on a string for when he would try it again. He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the brother’s reactions until Edward had an automail fist around his collar, and his back was pressed against a brick wall.
“How do you know?! What did you do?! Neil!” Ed raged, voice low but harsh.
“Brother, don’t.” Alphonse tried, his own hands holding onto the arm that Ed had cocked back to punch Neil in the face.
Neil’s hands rose again, and he started signing rapidly.
‘Andrew. I would give anything. I would do anything. He is all I have left, you should know that feeling, you should understand that pain. I would do it again, I would do it a million times. There is no price too high.’ Neil was kind of glad that neither of the brother’s understood sign language, because he was sure all of the things he was attempting to say wouldn’t get very good reactions from either of them.
Ed growled low in his throat and finally released Neil, shoving the notebook and pencil back into his hands.
“Explain.”
Neil sighed, and made the decision to try.
Ed had more knowledge than he did. They’d both seen the Gate, they both have the knowledge, but Ed has had years of this search, and Neil was only just starting out. It didn’t matter what it took, Neil would pay the price, and if that price was telling these two brothers the truth, so be it.
So Neil wrote.
‘My father killed Andrew. I sacrificed my father in return and tried to bring Andrew back. It didn’t work. I lost my voice. I’ve been looking for a way to-‘ Neil paused. He knew, almost instinctively, that if he were to tell Edward and Alphonse that he was going to try again, they wouldn’t help him. They would tell him it was a hopeless endeavor, a fool’s wish. So what to say instead? ‘I’ve been looking for a way to get my voice back.’
He wasn’t expecting anything from his admission.
He didn’t ever expect anything from anyone.
And he definitely wasn’t expecting Edward Elric to say what he had said right after reading Neil’s stilted explanation.
With hard, determined gold eyes, Edward looked at Neil and took a deep breath. “Come with us. I’ll sponsor your examination. Become a State Alchemist.”
Well…
Why not?
--
The Bare-Knuckle Alchemist.
Andrew would laugh if he’d seen the codename Neil had garnered.
Without his voice, Neil knew that the chances of him actually becoming a State Alchemist were low at best. Soldiers had to be able to communicate, had to be able to take orders and give them should the situation dictate it. So he’d known going in that his exam had to be spectacular if he wanted to pass the practical part at all.
With that in mind, he’d spent the whole train ride with the Elric brothers deep in thought and contemplating what would be best to present and what would be better off hidden.
He had, much like Edward, mastered the art of Alchemy without an array. But it wasn’t his favorite way to fight, unlike the eldest Elric brother who had a habit of transmuting mid-battle in a bid for weapons, and in the end that was what mattered.
While in Xing, he had picked up on their martial arts as a way of feeling closer to Andrew, who enjoyed hand-to-hand fighting more than anyone Neil had ever met before. He’d been the one to teach Neil most of what he knew, and in Xing, Neil had picked up the style change quickly, beating his teacher every 2 out of 5 fights.
He’d taken to using Andrew’s Knuckles, and so that was what he decided to use.
Presented with nothing but an open space and surrounded by military personnel, Neil stood there and waited for a signal to begin. He didn’t get one.
“Do you need a bit of chalk, or paint or something?” One of the uniforms asked kindly, though he was the only one who looked kindly. Everyone else in the pit was giving him bored and disdainful expressions, and Neil couldn’t really see the other personnel up in the balconies. Still, he shook his head to the kind man and turned his back on them, deciding to start without a signal.
Neil had clapped his hands, and used a mix of Amestrian Alchemy and Xingese Alkakestry to create eight stone pillars at random points throughout the room. His little display had garnered whispers, but he ignored it and focused. The whispers were mainly coming from the surprised soldiers behind him anyways.
Pulling the Knuckles from his pocket, he slipped them on and took a deep breath.
It would be the first time he tried this little experiment. It would be the first time he activated any of the array’s since Andrew’s death and he wasn’t sure how it would interact with his knew knowledge. With more understanding of the mathematical elements and physics to each array, would they be more powerful, or would it ultimately fail since he was not Andrew with his eidetic memory.
With the Knuckles in place, he reached for every array, each of them feeling more and more like Andrew’s distinctive Alchemy and Neil wanted to cry.
Alkahestry, unlike Amestrian Alchemy, had the potential to strike at a distance from the body, mainly because of Alkahestry’s innate connection to the earth and its natural forces. The projection of such arrays had been the hardest part of learning the art. It would have taken anyone else years to learn, but Neil had been desperate and had nothing else to do, and he also had the knowledge ‘gifted’ to him by the Gate. Endless days of training and studying and fighting for some mild chance of seeing Andrew again had resulted in a proficiency with a completely different discipline of Alchemy that Neil had gotten into the habit of incorporating in nearly everything he did.
This would be no exception.
When he moved, he moved fast.
The first two stone pillars were taken down at a distance, with the wind array that had been of Andrew’s own making, both fists shot out at an angle, and as he activated the array, the sharp sound of breaking rocks echoed in the exam area making the whispers grow in volume as well. The next two had been with a shock of lighting so strong it broke the rock in seconds, especially since Neil had only activated the array upon contact with the obstacle in question, now it wasn’t just whispers. Some people were yelling out words Neil couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. He continued.
The next two were taken out with the kinetic blasts that made Neil’s punches seem far more powerful than they really were, something akin to the Armstrong’s level of strength, and Neil could hear the man exclaim loudly in delight. Neil hoped never to meet the man again, he hadn’t liked being bear-hugged as soon as Edward had introduced them. The last two wouldn’t work as they should. There was no blood to reverse, no liquid to work with which the array on the weapon’s third knuckle be activated, so Neil improvised.
A clap and then a touch and the pillars crumbled in seconds, not like breaking… but like disintegrating. Something never before seen by alchemists. It caused a hush to fall over the crowd that had once been so loud before.
It was only afterwards that Edward had come up to him and asked what he’d done to the last two pillars, but Neil wasn’t willing to tell the blond.
Alchemy worked in three stages. From construction, to deconstruction, and then to reconstruction. Every alchemist knows that to create, something must first be destroyed, but they are all always so focused on the ‘reconstruction’ part of the equation that they forget what the first two really mean. Andrew had been the one to figure out that you could stop the alchemical reaction in the middle.
Neil would hold that little secret close for now.
Collecting his uniform and his new rank as Major along with the infamous silver pocket watch, Neil made his way to the office of his new Commanding Officer.
General Wymack worked in Central, which was lucky because it was were the best libraries in Amestris were located, and with enough wiggle room, he’d be able to do all the research he wanted to. Too bad for him, that wasn’t how things worked out.
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things you said over the phone
Aaron was shaking. His trial was about to start but he needed air. He was too hot. He was too cold. His hands were clammy. His stiff collared shirt he reserved for Exy banquets (and now trials, apparently) was chafing at his neck. He couldn’t form a single coherent thought.
Just one word passed through his mind over and over - or rather a name.
“Hey, how you holding up?” A big, heavy hand pressed down on his shoulder and he pretended he didn’t want to jump out of his skin.
He shrugged. If there was one thing he and his twin shared it was the ability to pretend they didn’t give a fuck. (Except for that one time. That one time Aaron never wanted to speak about - never wanted to think about - ever again.)
His eyes passed from his coach to his coach’s son.
Kevin wore his own mask of indifference, but Aaron could see in his eyes he didn’t want to talk about that night either. As they sat in the first row behind Aaron, Kevin reached around Wymack to flatten Neil’s collar.
Andrew leaned forward and raised a brow. Kevin gave a defiant look and didn’t bother reminding Andrew the press was always watching. They were in this very room, cameras at the ready. Criminal trials were open to the public and media.
Nicky tapped on the shiny wood gate that separated them from Aaron. Aaron flicked his hand and gave him a look. “Sorry,” Nicky muttered, eyes teary.
“Betsy and Abby are on their way,” Wymack informed. “Where’s Katelyn?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. Neil looked at Nicky.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Aaron said and stood up.
“It starts in five minutes,” Wymack said, obviously trying his best to keep his temper in check. He hated when his team cut things close.
Aaron walked down the middle aisle, ignoring the audience of people he didn’t know. When he reached the door, a woman was just entering. A chill went down his spine before he even saw her face.
When she looked up, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
Whatever he was feeling, he squashed it down.
He rushed past her. He didn’t have anything to say to her. Yeah, he’d killed her son. But her son deserved so much worse for what he’d done. He would never say it to anyone else but he didn’t think she should be getting off scot free. It had happened under her roof multiple times, with multiple defenseless foster kids.
As he stepped into the loud echoey foyer, he dug out his cell phone. His fingers traced the edges and he pressed the on/off button at least three times before unlocking it.
Her name was the first one on his phone history.
It rang and rang and Aaron cursed when it went to voicemail. He kicked aimlessly at the bench against the wall as the robotic voice told him to leave a message. He considered hanging up. But then, there was the beep and he said, “Katelyn, hi.”
He took a deep, shaky breath as the stress of the last few weeks finally settled and hit him like the racquet he used to bash in Drake’s head. “I know you’re probably, like, helping your mom at work or - I told you not to come ... I was wrong.” His voice was breathy and rushed and it cracked on ‘wrong’ and Aaron felt so stupid.
He was panicking, spiraling, and if he didn’t get control over his emotions right now, he was going to end up hyperventilating. Unlike those nights he woke up from nightmares, Katelyn wasn’t there to talk him through a meltdown.
Aaron closed his eyes and focused on breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out.
“I need you, Kate,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “You make me a better person and-and-and I d-don’t know - it just feels like if you were here, maybe everyone else would see I’m not so bad, too.” He leaned his forehead against the cool wall. His voice quieted again and he said, “I know it doesn’t work that way. I know you can’t magically make me a good person or make other people see me the way you do. Thanks, by the way. For that and for listening to me ramble and I love you. Okay?”
His phone buzzed and he checked the screen. His next breath came easier as he hung up on the voicemail and answered the phone call. “Katelyn.”
“Hey, sorry.” She sounded breathless and he heard a car honk.
“Where are you?” he asked. “If you’re busy, we can talk later.”
“No, no!” she said quickly. Her voice was muffled when she said, “I think it’s that way.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah! Isn’t your trial starting, like, now?”
“I needed to hear your voice,” he admitted.
He heard her huff. “Aaron Michael Minyard ...”
There was a loud clatter and he turned around. Then he rushed forward. She was breathing hard and sweating but he flung his arms around her anyway.
She cupped his face in both hands and kissed him.
“You came,” he stated the obvious but not in the dull, judgey voice he used on everyone else. His hands squeezed her hips and he kissed her again.
“My flight was late,” she said.
“And you’re late, mister,” Abby said. Her makeup was a little smudgey and she seemed to be holding Betsy up but she wrapped her free arm around Aaron’s shoulders and started guiding them all back toward the court room.
Just like that, everything was going to be okay.
Disclaimer: I don’t know anything about court or trials or media in the court. Also, I know Nora said only certain people would be at the trial and one of those people would not be Kevin ... but he was there that night. He didn’t see everything but he walked into the murder scene and called Wymack and the cops.
Fun Fact: When Aaron was first introduced in the book, I thought he was going to be my favorite character.
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