Neil who always had to rely on being able to talk. At first, it was his father who wanted him to speak loudly and proudly to others and with utmost respect to himself. Then, his mother who needed him to be competent and useful and able to talk himself out of precarious situations at all times. Later, it was adults who took notice of a teen in ratty clothes loitering near the dumpsters behind fast-food chains or supermarkets, it was teachers who had to believe stories of dotting parents on frequent business trips, it was his high-school exy coach who was far too observant for his own good. After leaving Millport, it was Coach Wymack, it was The Foxes, it was The Ravens, it was is the Moriyamas, and it was Andrew - until it wasnât Andrew anymore.
Neil who will suddenly grow quiet when it is just the two of them. At first, Andrew is irritated by the change, so used to Neil bothering him - okay, maybe not bothering, maybe Josten's snark makes his heart beat just a little faster, maybe the slight lilt in his tone causes a pleasant shiver to run down Andrew's spine, maybe he is far too fond of his idiotâs pointless chattering - day in and day out.
So, instead, Andrew's mind jumps into overdrive because, usually, when Neil grows quiet, it is for the former's benefit. It is when Andrew barely sleeps at night, too paranoid to be unconscious for too long. When words become too heavy for his tongue and noise too hard to properly dissect and distinguish beyond whether it sounds threatening or not. When Andrew feels overwhelmed and overstimulated and overtired but still wants needs tolerates Neil by his side. Andrew doesn't need Neil to be quiet right now, so his survival mode kicks in.
But when Andrew glances towards Neil, it is not distress he finds. It is tension visibly seeping out of Neil's shoulders and arms and neck. And it is an almost sleepy question in soft blue eyes.
Neil who patiently waits for Andrewâs nod, hands placed on his thighs, before leaning against the blond's side and linking their pinkies atop the heated surface of the roof.Â
Neil who realises that he can be quiet with Andrew when he wants to. That he will still have the time to explain and voice and ask later. That he can afford a second, a minute, an hour, even, to just soak up their nothing something.
But, also, Neil who eventually allows himself to mourn, to be melancholic, to be vulnerable. To do nothing but grit his teeth when the pain around his scars goes from dull to unbearable, when his legs start to tremor after focusing too long on the memories attached to his mangled skin. Neil who seeks comfort in Andrew's presence and touch and words.
Andrew who stays quietly by his side. Andrew who lets Neil lean against him, whether it is out of contentness or vulnerability. Andrew who starts to fill their space with chatter when need be. Andrew whose heart only grows fonder more exasperated at any sign of Neil giving him his back, not because of some odd arrangement or quid pro quo they used to engage in - still do at times, old habits die hard - but because Neil trusts him without having to be given a promise or deal.
dailybridgerton
jacobvanloon
areudirty
2087
snowghoul
