It all starts in one of Andrew’s criminal justice classes. It was specifically for analyzing the sociology of criminals. (how victim-abuser relationships work, criminal empires, the structure of how criminals interact with other people, etc.)
Andrew likes his degree. He really does. And having to admit that, even to himself is as Bee would put it: a big step forward
He doesn’t care enough to shove it away. It feels… interesting. The whole field is interesting.
But then theres times like- this.
That makes Andrew want to commit another felony himself.
It was not long after the Baltimore incident.
And his sociology professor comes in with a peculiar pep in her step.
She sets down her notes for the day and waits for the rest of the students to file in.
Once everyone is settled she plastered on this big grin
“Everybody, I have something to share.” She said it as if she was trying to contain her excitement but everyone knew she was practically bursting with it. “If any of you are avid on keeping up with news involving big criminal networks you would have seen an absolutely astounding albeit vague breakthrough about a month ago.”
Andrew felt his stomach clench. If she was going where he thought she was going with this…
“Some of you criminal conspiracy theorists out there know all about infamous Wesninski scandal.”
Andrew felt a spark of anger begin to boil but he absolutely refused to show anything outwardly. He heard some classmates that were the avid conspirators start to also whisper excitedly. Andrew clenched his hand into a fist under the desk so hard he could feel half moon marks forming on his palms.
“For those of you who dont…”
She then pressed a button on her remote and the projector started to turn on.
An article titled “The Blood of the Fallen Wesniski Family” appeared on the screen. It had the picture of a giant house-closer to a mansion-on the front that Andrew could only assume was the Wesninski’s.
“This article was published this morning. A month ago there had been a news story about a big bust in the Wesninski house reporting several murders of the occupants inside, but the police refused to release any more information than that. It was huge, considering many had speculated exactly what has been happening involving the Wesninski’s for years.”
“But this morning the FBI finally released information about what had happened.”
His professor scrolled down past the picture to start reading the article outloud.
“Nathan Wesninski, Lola Malcolm, Patrick DiMaccio and 7 other victims have been reported dead, found around and mostly in a hidden basement of the Wesninski household.”
It then went on to talk about the cause of death, why the FBI had been withholding this information, and the speculation on who killed them.
Suddenly she scrolled down and a picture of Neil showed up. There were a few audible gasps in the room. A select couple were from recognition, the rest were from the shock of the images.
Andrew had seen Neil in the hotel. But that was after he had gotten medical care.
This was when the police and press had arrived right after he narrowly escaped death.
Andrew felt such a white hot rage that he could feel his lips curling upwards in a snarl.
Neil was being man handled by a cop in the image, his hair a matted mess and blood was everywhere. The lacerations and burns on his cheeks were stark against his pale face. The shirt- the fucking shirt that Andrew saw Neil leave in before the riot was stained with so much fresh blood and sweat.
The worst part though was that in the image Neil was doubled over laughing. His eyes were filled with panic and hysteria and his mouth was wide. Andrew could hear his own laughter filling his ears when Drake-
Andrew pushed that aside in favor of trying to contain his immense anger. To contain the temptation of burning this fucking school into the ground.
“Some of you might recognize this man. He actually goes to our very school” the professor informed the class with such elation.
“This is Nathaniel Wesninski. Nathan Wesninski’s son. He barely survived the events of what happened that night, and informed the FBI that the suspicions the police and other crime enthusiasts have had over the Wesninski’s were true.”
Andrew tuned out the rest of his professors ramblings on the theories and the confirmed murders and tortures the Wesninski circle was involved in until the name Nathaniel was mentioned again.
“Nathaniel is actually on our Exy team-”
Andrew surprised himself when he heard himself snarl “His name is Neil Josten.”
Suddenly all eyes shifted onto him. The woman then had a look on her face like she just realised who exactly was in the class room.
“Ah.. uh, yes Mr. Minyard is correct. Nathaniel and recently changed his name to Neil Josten in an effort to distance himself from the Wesninski history and name.”
She seemed to realize how insensitive this entire situation was because her joy and excitement noticeably dimmed.
After a few more words she went on with the actual lesson that day.
Andrew couldn’t pay attention. His focus much more attuned towards Bee’s breathing exercises that weren’t working in calming him down.
After class was over Andrew was just about to be leaving when his professor stopped him. “Ah Mr. Minyard, a word?”
Andrew turned his head but didnt come near her.
She sidled up to him instead and said “I know you are on the college Exy team, and I have seen you with Wesnin- ah Josten in the halls.”
Andrew felt himself clenching his fists again
“I was wondering, if it is alright with him of course, if you could possibly talk to Mr. Josten and ask him if he’d be able to guest speak on the next lecture?”
Andrew stared at her in disbelief, but to her in must have just been a blank mask.
“How about this.” Andrew started
“The next time you decide to use a student, a human being, that you are trained to teach and to respect and coincide with as something for you to squeal over like a scientist dissecting a specimen, ask yourself this. Am I being professional? Am I being a person with common sense? Am I being someone who can fall asleep without crying over how pathetic my life has become? I can already guess that the answer to all these questions is no. No you are not. So stow away this asinine facisnation with other people’s serious trauma and act like a goddamn fucking professional.”
Andrew then turned around and left without a word.
Later that day Andrew entered the dorm after his classes were done and set his things down.
Neil was on the couch already, spacing out looking at the wall.
“Browning called this morning.” He said after Andrew had settled himself on the arm of the couch.
“Said that they released the information to the public about Baltimore.”
Andrew showed no reaction to this information, which he knew Neil would interpret as Andrew already knowing.
Neil gave a cruel smile and looked at Andrew. “Do you know how many people have approached me today? Asking about it?”
Andrew kept his face blank, giving Neil the foundation of nothingness he needed.
There was a tense couple of minutes of just staring before Neil’s smile finally cracked and he looked at his lap in defeat. Andrew could see how tired he was.
“They asked. They asked why I laughed.”
Andrew finally moved to sit next to Neil and put a hand onto his neck for much needed comfort.
Neil side eyed Andrew and started elaborating “…There was an image the press took that had been withheld by the FBI until now… it was of me-”
He couldnt hear Neil say it. Couldnt hear Neil relive it. “I saw.” Andrew interrupted.
Neil looked at him fully, twisting his body towards Andrew.
“Yes or no?” He asked in a quiet and weakened voice.
Andrew saw the fresh scars on Neil’s face. Saw the black armbands he wore proudly. Saw the eyes that usually held such a burning fire but now only held a dim flame. He saw a man who has survived so much. He saw a man that he knew better than himself and he saw a man just like him.
Neil, very slowly, learned towards Andrew until his face was buried in his neck and his weight was on Andrew completely. He kept his hands to himself.
Andrew buried one of his hands in Neil’s hair, rubbing circles in the scalp and with the other hand he gently grabbed one of Neil’s to lace their fingers together.
A sighed escaped Neil’s lips and tickled Andrew’s neck, effectively giving him goosebumps all over his arms.
Andrew tilted his face into Neil’s hair and murmured “I did too.”
He knew Neil knew what he meant.
He knew Neil had heard his manic laughter when they discovered him bloody and numb and high on his pills.
Neil nuzzled in further, not responding.
The message was clear anyways.
We are both damaged and the world will never understand,
But at least we have eachother.
2087
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