for the five word prompt: "just… come back alive, okay?"
thank u !!! u didn’t send a ship so,,, im just gonna go with andreil i hope that’s ok im trash im sorry
(tw; proust mention, baltimore mention + burns)
five word prompts: “just… come back alive, okay?” + andreil
Andrew knew something was wrong when Neil’s phone rang at 4am.
The bed dipped before Neil stood up, answering the phone and stepping outside the room. He stepped out as if he were going to wake Andrew by staying in the room, but with Andrew already awake, there was no point in it. He did it anyway, only closing the door over before saying a quiet, tired ‘Hello?’ down the phone. Trying to listen in on the conversation, Andrew sat up with his back against the headboard and Sir Fat Cat laying on his lap. Neil was clearly pacing, with his voice getting louder and quieter every time he walked past their bedroom door. Andrew decided at the second strained ‘what?’ that Neil uttered to join him in the hallway.
There was a few things it could be, and Andrew definitely didn’t favour any of them over the next. Something could’ve happened to Wymack, or one of the other original foxes, it could’ve been the FBI having figured out Neil lied about the Moriyamas and didn’t include them in his statements, it could’ve been to do with anything from Nathan Wesninski to Neil Josten himself. There were a lot of possibilities, and Andrew could be certain that none of them were positive.
It took Neil six minutes and twenty seconds to finish the phone call, and he looked fucking terrified when he put the phone down to face Andrew.
“What was that?” Andrew snapped, too tired and not in the mood to deal with more bullshit to do with Neil.
“It,” Neil turned his whole body to face Andrew, and his hands were trembling by his sides. Andrew took a slow step forward, his eyes flickering from the look on Neil’s face to the heaving rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t- I need to-”
“Coherent sentences, Josten.” Andrew flicked on the light, and looked at Neil with full view of his face. “Take a deep breath and tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“It’s Stuart.” The name brought a loud curse from Andrew’s lips. Stuart Hatford was almost too obviously the culprit for Neil’s expression. Neil hadn’t looked like this since his uncle had called him for the final time in his second year at Palmetto State. It was the final call to tell him his past was behind him, and that they’d located Proust. He flat out told Neil they were going to kill him, and Neil had come off the phone both spooked and shaking as if he was responsible for the oncoming execution.
“What does he want?” Andrew spat, taking the phone from where Neil had sat it down. Right enough, when he switched it on, the last contact on Neil’s call log was the uncle that never seemed to bear good news. “What could he possibly want?”
“My dad’s-” Neil took a second to stop himself from stuttering again, composing himself by shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants to stop them shaking. “Lola got out early a week ago. Lola as in...” He trailed off, bringing his hands to his face. Andrew was immediately brought back to the hotel room in baltimore, with Nathaniel sitting in front of him. The bandage he peeled back showed the burn from the dashboard lighter over the tattoo Riko had forced on him. He was brought back to Abby bandaging up his arms again, the angry circular burns trailing up his arms. “She’s looking for me.”
“She won’t find you.” Andrew stared at Neil, as if silently trying to convince him of his own safety.
“She already has.” Andrew’s grip tightened around the phone, his teeth clenched at Neil’s whisper of a statement. “She’s just been with him. Stuart, I mean. She wants-”
“To kill you, I’m sure.” Andrew interrupted. He could visibly see Neil getting more and more wound up as the seconds ticked past. To calm Neil didn’t take much, but when it came to his family and his past, it took a lot more than a hand to the back of the neck to bring him back down. “She’s been locked away for fifteen years because of you. Is she still at Stuart’s?” Neil nodded. “Is she going to leave his place without you?” He shook his head.
“She’s giving me twenty four hours to get to Baltimore.” Even the name of the place was a punch to the gut, a violent reminder of what really happened fifteen years ago. “She wants me there or she’s coming here to hurt both of us.”
“So you’re going?” It sounded more like an accusation, said with such anger behind it, Neil was afraid that Andrew wouldn’t let him leave.
“I have to.” Neil waited, the silence between the two filling the air around them. “You’re not going to stop me?”
“You’d go anyway.” It was true, and Neil couldn’t lie and say otherwise. He followed Andrew when he turned to walk back into the room. He rummaged through the drawer of their bedside locker, and returned with two of his knives. They still looked as sharp as they had when Neil had first seen them, and he took them gingerly, looking up to face Andrew. “I don’t care if you hate using these, kill her if you need to.” Neil stomach dropped, and he held them in both his hands, not saying a word. “You get dressed and I’ll check out flights.” Neil had no words, and only nodded. He put the knives down for the time being and was about to leave the room when Andrew called his name. Andrew took Neil’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead before leaning his own against it.
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.” Neil’s voice was croaky, overwhelmed with everything that had went on. He had happily buried his old life the day he’d gotten that last call from Stuart, and had been living in the present with Nathaniel Wesninski firmly dead and gone. With Lola out early, things were starting to come back. All the things he’d taken years to forget were all returned after a single phone call.
“Don’t let her hurt you.” Andrew said it as a demand, rather than a request. He didn’t want Neil with even a scratch, and being left alone in their apartment with Neil in Baltimore was going to be hard enough. “Don’t even let her fucking touch you. Just...” He paused for a second, holding Neil’s face back far enough that he could take in all his features as he spoke, from the large scar on his cheekbone to the tiny scars littering his entire face. “Come back alive, okay?”
“Fucking hell, Andrew.” Neil took a step back from him, and buried his face in his hands before letting out a muffled scream. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He tried to make light jokes out of the situation, but nothing was easing either of their concerns. Lola, whatever the fuck her second name was, was a trained hitman. She could kill Neil and send his body back to Andrew without being caught. Andrew knew that she would not hesitate in killing Neil if she were given the chance. Well, she had no chance of getting away with it, since Neil was essentially famous, and his past wasn’t hidden from the whole world. Everyone who knew about Neil knew he’d locked away a dozen of his father’s men, and Lola happened to be one of them. It would take the FBI seconds to put the pieces together, but she wouldn’t care. She wanted revenge, and Andrew knew she wouldn’t be afraid to get it.
He tried not to think about Neil not making it back alive, but it was the only thing he could think about. He’d gotten too used to the auburn curls and icy blue eyes. He’d gotten too used to the man who lived and breathed Exy for him to be taken away from him. Not today, not yet. Andrew wasn’t ready to let Neil go.
