☕CoffeeCo☕

- That's where you'll find the oneshots I post on here

Fun facts:

-I've been writing fanfiction since Fanfiction.net was the big-deal. No I will not share my wattpad or fanfiction.net. Leave it buried there.

-I'm a cat lover, I collect knives, and I have a disgusting amount of plants

-Major mythology buff, Theatre kid, Speech and debate, music, etc. Anything I thought would make me intellectually superior as a kid (I can't do math)

-I've never made a sexual or gendered decision in my life- Anything goes

- I'm an obsessive student to the point you could compare me and class to Kevin Day and Exy

- It might be obvious, but my oneshots are purely psychological character studies that I can cry over. I write them to practice literary analysis via guilty pleasure books

When the clock chimed saying it was 3 a.m., Aaron briefly paused his work. The bars closed around 2, and there was no way Nicky and Andrew decided to suddenly become friendly and hang out together. Maybe Andrew killed Mr. Happy Sunshine, and I can be with normal people,

The thought made him snort, he wouldn't be so lucky. It'd been maybe half a year since Andrew had locked Aaron in that bathroom, and almost the same amount of time of Nicky invading every moment of their lives. The forced domesticity happy-family approach Nicky used was suffocating, and his behavior was disgusting. To a degree, he almost felt bad for the guy. Nicky got out, he escaped and found happiness with some gay fucker. No one asked him to be a hero, or to martyr himself. It was infuriating how much the pity bled through every pore of the nice guy act.

There was a knock on the door around 3:30 a.m., at first Aaron thought Nicky must have been overwhelmingly drunk and Andrew couldn't get him inside. He slammed his textbook shut and stalked over to the door, already fed up with both of them. When he flung the door open, the police officer standing in front of him made him jump. Maybe Andrew really did kill Nicky.

"Hello, sorry to bother you so late, are you Aaron Minyard, a relative of Nicky Hemmick?"

He paused, steeling himself before he responded. It sounds like there would be a funeral afterall. "Yeah, Nicky is my cousin."

"Nicky Hemmick has been taken to the ER and admitted into the ICU, Andrew Minyard has been transported to the ER in custody. Would you accompany me to the hospital?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"The only other people we have on file for Nicky are a Mr. and Mrs. Luther Hemmick, you are listed as the primary contact."

Aaron grabbed his house keys and locked the door, following the police officer to the car. He cringed as the officer opened the back door for him. They lock from the outside. Bars on the windows and between the front and back seats. It was that bathroom all over again. When he sat down, he made himself lean back and close his eyes, taking deep breaths.

"What happened?"

"Based on the information we have right now, Nicky got jumped by four men who were attempting to kill him. As of right now, the charges are targeted hate crime and attempted murder. We have your brother in custody too."

That made Aaron sit up. If Andrew was just picking Nicky up, why was he arrested?

"The men who jumped him?"

"All in the ICU on ventilation."

"Was it Andrew?"

"I can't disclose details of an active case, but Andrew is on a hold and in custody."

Aaron swallowed hard as he processed this. There was no doubt in his mind that Andrew was why the men were in the ICU, but it was slightly more disturbing to think that Andrew went to someone's defense. He'd have been less surprised if the officer said Andrew had helped those men attack their cousin.

When they got to the hospital and the officer opened the door for him, he had to resist the momentary urge to leap out of the car. The hospital wasn't the endlessly busy and terrifying scene he'd imagined. There were people in reception in various levels of distress, some clutching cloth around various body parts, but others were curled on those plastic chairs sleeping. They didn't spend long in the waiting room, though. He verified his identity, and they immediately took him to the back. The endless hallways felt almost claustrophobic. It was much busier behind the scenes. Nurses and doctors walked up and down the sterile halls, a few running to the patient's rooms. The beeping coming from the rooms with open doors immediately gave Aaron a headache.

When they arrived at Nicky's door, a nurse approached them.

"He's sleeping right now, but you can go in and sit with him if you'd like. Are you the next of kin?" She whispered, gesturing to the open door.

Aaron looked inside the room and shuddered. He looked almost dead. For whatever reason, Nicky didn't have a shirt on, but the bandages covering his torso hid everything anyways. His head was covered in bandages, almost completely covering his hair, and his face looked like a nightmare. One of his arms was in a sling, and one of his legs was suspended in the air. The ankle in a cast, and the rest of his leg covered in either bruises or bandages. He suspected the other leg under the blanket looked similar.

"Yeah I am, he's my cousin."

"Okay, well he's stable right now. He's had stitches done, so the bandages aren't as bad as they look. It'll hurt when he wakes up but we have him on some strong painkillers. There's a few broken ribs, a fractured ankle, cracked skull, and fractured mandible. We had to have a minor surgery to fix some internal bleeding, and our neurosurgeon put a cranial plate in to protect his skull. So we're monitoring him for intracranial bleeding and possible motor dysfunction."

The words echoed through Aaron as he stared at that broken man. He didn't really look like Nicky anymore. It wasn't exactly that it was upsetting, but it wasn't pleasant either. A hideous sight. Nicky's vanity was going to be absolutely destroyed.

"Have.. Have you contacted his," he paused, struggling to find a description that wasn't disgusting, "Have you contacted Erik?"

"No, our hospital doesn't do international calls at the moment. We have his phone though, if you'd like to."

The nurse pulled out a bag with Nicky's belongings in it and Aaron gagged. The phone was covered in dried blood. Turning around, he spotted the gloves on the wall and grabbed a pair, pulling them on before he opened the bag to remove the phone. When he found Erik's number, he pulled out his own phone and typed it in. Setting everything down and throwing the gloves away, Aaron stepped outside and pressed call. It only rang one time.

"Ja, wer ist da?"

"Ich, Aaron, cousine Nicky?" He tried, mildly regretting not paying more attention in his German language class. There was silence on the other end of the line until the man spoke again in broken English.

"Nicky's cousin. Nicky no good?"

"Nicky is hurt, he's in the hospital. I wanted to tell you in case you couldn't reach him."

He spoke slowly, carefully enunciating his words. The man's line went dead, and Aaron had to resist the urge to call back. Some piece of shit Nicky was dating. Seemed fitting enough that Nicky's taste involved uncaring men. At least women were safe from both of these gay assholes.

The nurse stepped out to give him privacy, the police officer following her and closing the door behind him. Aaron was left alone, with this man he barely knew and generally disliked. Logically, no one deserves to be attacked like this. But on some level, he also wondered what Nicky did to piss off those men. He was always flirtatious, bordering on intrusive. It was humiliating to be in public with him given how he was always making loud remarks on every man's appearance.

He checked his watch, it was 4 am. If he went home now, he could sleep for a few hours before his quiz. He could miss the first couple classes of the day, but the anatomy quiz was worth so many points. Looking at Nicky though, he remembered how terrifying it was to be in the hospital alone, hooked up to intimidating machines. Resisting the urge to throw something, Aaron stepped outside of the room. There were seats in the hallway, but that was too close for comfort.

He wandered around until he was outside of the ER portion of the hospital and found a wing with a small coffee booth. He poured himself a cup at sat down on the bench next to the machine. There was an old lady hobbling up and down the otherwise empty hallway attached to an IV drip on wheels. Her hair was gone, and her face was so wrinkled and saggy he was willing to bet a light breeze would make it flap like paper. When she spotted him, she immediately worked her way over slowly. He carefully schooled his features and nodded at her impassively.

"You're too young to be dying, here for family?" Her words were a frail croak despite how intrusive she was.

"Yeah. My cousin was attacked, he's in the ICU. You're too old to be living, trying to die faster?" He snapped. The grandma just laughed and sat down heavily next to him. Aaron started to stand up, but she grabbed his arm and yanked him back with surprising strength.

"Chemo, kiddie. Take pity on an old lady. Your cousin was attacked, is he the poor boy in 215?"

"You're awfully nosey for a stranger, lady. Yeah he's in 215."

The elder woman clucked her tongue, shaking her head slowly. "A pity, that man. You can really tell he's such a handsome thing. It's such a cold world, senseless violence."

Aaron sneered, this hag had no business and all the audacity. It made perfect sense why she was here all alone. She ignored his look and patted his knee. He didn't bother trying to hide his distaste, scooting a little bit further away from her. Then, as all decrepit lonely people do, she proceeded to not shut up and take a hint.

Her whole life's story. Her first husband, the second one, the third who just passed away last fall. The three kids who don't visit. Poor Mr. Button, a mangy street cat waiting at home for her to feed him. It was agonizing. Mind numbingly dull and insignificant. She didn't care that he wasn't listening, she kept talking anyways. Aaron refilled his coffee a total of 3 times while she prattled on and on, and each time he debated walking away. Each time she stared at him, like Are you going to make me die alone? until he sat back down.

When she finally ran out of things to say about herself, he thought he'd gained his freedom. Turned out it just meant it was question time.

"What happened to your cousin?"

"He pissed off the wrong people because he's a faggot."

His cheek burned. She slapped him. This nosey bitch actually slapped him. He stood up, outraged but she grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him down.

"You show some respect. No one likes a teenage brat. It was funny at first, but one day it's going to bite you in the ass. That's your family, understand? Act like it. That is all you get. That's all he gets too."

Spit flew out of her mouth, landing on his face. Her words made him seethe, where could she possibly get the nerve to lecture him? What could she possibly know with all of her family failures? He stared into her watery eyes, finding the words to defend himself.

"You lecture me on family but here you are, dying alone doing chemo. Where's your family, you hag? How are those ideals working out for you?"

Her hand raised again. He knew he couldn't fight someone on the brink of death, so he closed his eyes and braced himself. Instead she stood up, slowly. Every ounce of effort she put into it looked painful. Then, she hugged him. His whole body went stiff, hands clenched into fists at his side.

"My whole family died, or had their own families. I wasn't born 85. You being here means you do care. Those doors aren't chained shut. You're as fake as you say I am."

When she released him, she stumbled a step back, holding herself up on the IV drip. He stared at her, dumbfounded. All she'd given him was useless judgment and irrelevant tales but she really thought she was the wise one.

"Go sit with your cousin. He's alone in there. Save the hate for a day when he isn't hurting. Be a family." With that, she hobbled away, clearly fed up with him. He stood there and watched her leave, half hoping she'd trip or have a heart attack. When she went into her patient room, he refilled his coffee again and checked his watch. It was 6 a.m. now.

When he finally made his way back to Nicky's room, he found his cousin awake. Nicky tried to smile at him, but it clearly hurt given how fast he stopped. The effort made Aaron deeply uncomfortable, so he sat down and ignored it. They sat in silence, neither of them having room in their hearts to discuss it. When 10 rolled around, Nicky told him to leave and take the quiz, sleep if he had to.

A defiant part of him wanted to tell Nicky to fuck off with his demands and stay around just to be difficult. But he really did care about this quiz and didn't want to miss it. He accepted the debit card Nicky offered him with shakey bandaged hands and called a taxi to school.

After school for some reason, he found himself back at the hospital. Nicky was upright and able to talk more. He said the inside of his cheek was super swollen from biting down on it, and rambled about how he couldn't look in a mirror for weeks. He seemed glad that Erik was so far away and couldn't look at him.

Aaron resisted the urge to shatter Nicky's world and tell him Erik already knew what happened and didn't care at all. He didn't need that on his plate right now, and frankly, Aaron didn't want to deal with the aftermath.

Nicky was released the next morning, neither of them were allowed to go see Andrew yet, so they got the car keys from the police officer and went home. There wasn't any words on the drive, or music. Nicky was too exhausted to act like he didn't hate everything about this place, and for once Aaron couldn't hold that against him.

They pulled up in the driveway and Aaron hopped out of the car, going up the steps to the house. He froze, disturbed. There was a man curled on the floor at the door sleeping. A bag next to the man. He looked haggard, a total mess. His shoes were mismatched, and his shirt wasn't buttoned properly. The takeout sitting next to the guy implied he'd been there at least overnight. Aaron kicked the man with his foot, saying "What the fuck are you doing? Get off our porch."

The man shifted and opened his eyes, looking up. He looked disappointed to see Aaron, and ignored him completely, looking around. When he sat up, he spotted Nicky, still struggling to get out of the car. Aaron stumbled as the man stood up and pushed him out of the way, sending him crashing into the porch rails. Choking back fury, he faltered when the guy ran over to Nicky.

The man was gingerly touching Nicky's bandages and Nicky looked incredibly upset and relieved to see him. The most confusing thing to Aaron was how gently the man was treating him, carefully picking his cousin up like he weighed nothing and kicking the car door shut. When he returned to the porch with Nicky, Aaron noted how for once he was authentically smiling. He was genuinely happy.

Erik nodded at Aaron, finally acknowledging him.

"Cousine. Door?"

"So you're Erik? You ever hold an actual conversation before?" He muttered, opening the door and going in. He completely ignored the bag outside, if Erik wanted to play nanny, he could get his own things too. The German continued to completely ignore Aaron, whispering things to Nicky as he carried him through the house. When Erik found Nicky's bedroom, he nudged the door open and stepped in, kicking it shut behind him.

When Nathaniel realized his mother was dead and there was nothing more he could do for her, he kept driving. He drove until he ran out of gas and let the car trail off-road into a field. When he shut the car off, he sat there and stared at her. Absorbing every detail didn’t seem like enough. He loved her, he thought. It was most likely love, but of course he didn’t have a great grasp on the concept. Mary Hatford was an enigma to Nathaniel. She’d run away from everything she’d ever known for him, but sometimes he wondered if taking him was more of an afterthought. Was it Nathaniel she was running to save, or was it her own skin she had been worried about? That question lingered in their every interaction. What she did helped him, but there was never that sort of reciprocal affection he’d seen in others. Not unless she was worried someone was on to them.

Mary took care of their health. She kept them moving and fed, and she stitched him up whenever he was broken. Those were the definites. Now, however, as he was staring at her slumped form in the passenger seat of the van, she looked less like a mother figure. She was always gaunt; her skin was sallow with dark eyebags. Her eyes constantly looked paranoid, often downright hostile, and her grip, where she held him, ranged from tight to excruciating. Her nails biting into his arm was the closest he’d felt to care. When she gripped him, it meant she was concerned; getting ready to bolt, and that she’d take him with her. Even though she constantly chose him, both of them knew it wasn’t permanent. They both knew one would eventually leave the other or that they’d get caught. He always somewhat assumed he’d wake up one day, and she’d have vanished overnight, leaving everything and everyone behind her.

He wasn’t expecting to be driving her corpse across California and wondering what to do with the body. Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel leaned back in his seat to contemplate. They- He -was on a backroad in the middle of nowhere. He’d passed a beach a few miles back, but driving there wasn’t an option. He could leave the car and walk by himself, but that felt too impersonal for all she had done for him. Raising his eyes to behold her corpse once more, he tentatively reached out to test the weight. The blood from her injuries had congealed and fully dried in the California sun, acting as glue to keep her in the seat.

Shuddering, Nathaniel unbuckled her seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and unlocked the doors. He walked around the vehicle and opened the passenger side, bracing himself for her body to tumble out onto him. She was firmly stuck. Once more, he took hold of her and pulled. The sound of her bloody body peeling off the seat made him vomit. The dry crunch, like pulling tape off of fake leather, but a thousand times worse. Still dry heaving, he gave up and shoved her back into the car. They had a couple gallons of gasoline in the back. That was the next best step. 

Nathaniel walked back to the driver’s side and popped the trunk, doing his best to avoid looking back over at her. After pulling the gasoline out, he paused, staring at the rest of their belongings. Two backpacks, a couple of sleeping mats, an extensive first-aid kit. He ground his teeth as he realized her master binder of information was still clutched in her arms. 

He yanked the bags out to buy himself time, dumping all of both bags on the dusty grass. Sorting through the items as quickly as possible, he tried to figure out what exactly he would need for running solo. She had an array of guns, as did he. He could keep her ammo, but he was no good with her shot of choice, so at least three of the guns had to go. All of her knives should be kept. It never hurt to have an additional set. He didn’t need her clothes, maybe the coat, but he couldn’t excuse carrying such a bulky winter item with him in the middle of this heat. All of the first-aid items went into the keep pile, as did the four photos she held on to. 

Her wallet, thankfully, was tucked into the backpack. He wouldn’t have been able to stomach reaching into her pants for that. Flipping it open, he counted the bills as quickly as he could. A couple thousand in larger bills, another thousand in smaller. Her credit cards likely were compromised, and he had no need for her IDs. He hesitated when putting the license back, debating if he should take it with him for sentimental value. However, when he stared at the photo, it felt more performative than actually comforting. Sighing, he tossed it back into the smaller of the two bags, along with everything he had no room for. 

Walking back to the passenger side, he braced himself as he saw the binder. Careful not to look up at her face, he pried it out of her hands, forced to unwrap each individual finger from its relatively undamaged cover. It took the ‘pry it out of my cold dead hands’ saying to a personal level he’d never considered before. Once it was free, he placed it with the rest of the things and grabbed the first can of gasoline, pouring it carefully over every inch.

When he got to his mother, he paused and set the can down. Closing his eyes, he reached into her jacket pocket, trying to ignore the crackle of blood on fabric. When he felt her pack of cigarettes and lighter, he grabbed them and yanked his hand out as fast as he could. With that, he picked the can up again and coated every inch of her body. The second can, he was less careful with until about half of it was left. He used that under the hood of the car, coating the engine and battery as well. 

When he finished, he stepped back and stared at his work, trying to get up the nerve to follow through. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it up and smoked carefully. He’d snuck them from his mother on occasion over the years. He suspected Mary knew, but when you’re running with your life on the line, it is hard to tell someone not to do something as harmless as smoking. Of all the things that threatened their lives, both of them would be grateful if it was just cancer that killed them.

While he smoked the cigarette, he moved the supplies further away from the car, estimating a safe zone just in case. He used his cigarette to light up a second one. That one, he walked over to the car. He shut all the doors except the passenger side and stared at Mary one more time. Then, he took 5 steps back and tossed the cigarette onto her lap. She caught fire immediately. 

Now that it was all taken care of, Nathaniel sat down a safe distance away, and he watched. Watched his entire world as he knew it, go up in flames. He didn’t let himself look away, and he didn’t let himself move. He sat there in complete silence, lighting cigarette after cigarette and listening to every groan of metal, every tire let air out, and every sizzle and pop of his mother’s flesh burn off.

He watched her skin cook as it slowly turned from white to red, to dark brown, and into nothing. He was grateful that she burned quickly. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he had to burn her a second time. When the fire died down, when the embers cooled and the day turned to night, he approached the car and stared into the passenger seat. All that was left was ash and bone. 

It didn’t feel right to leave the bones. He did not feel like that’d be respecting her, but more importantly, he didn’t think it was a good idea to leave evidence. He dumped the first-aid supplies out of their bag and into his backpack, approaching his mom one more time. He had to work fast, while the night still gave him some cover. He knew Mary would tell him to leave things as they are; It’s good enough, we need to keep moving, but he wasn’t her. He had time to kill, she did not.

He shoved all of the bones into the first-aid bag and hoisted it up, not letting himself consider that it was his mother in the bag. Looking around, he realized there was nowhere to bury her here. They didn’t carry around a shovel, and this ground was far too dry and solid to use his hands. He’d have to carry her to the beach. He carefully placed that bag into his backpack and stood up. 

The bones were lightweight. They made no difference to the load that was already on his shoulders. The thought made him shudder. He had wasted too much time, and it was time to keep moving. He took one last look at the car and the surroundings, nothing important was left behind. So he started walking.

He walked and then walked some more. It was less exhaustion that weighed him down, more reality. He could run, from here to the beach. It would probably take him thirty minutes. But then it’d all be over. He wasn’t ready for that finality yet. So he walked.

By some small mercy there was not a single soul on the sandy shore. He set his backpack down once more and found a place close enough to the road that no one would dig there for any reason, so he started digging. The ground was just tough enough, with rocks just sharp enough, that it tore up his hands. In a way, he sort of relished in the pain. It kept him grounded to reality, to his task. There was no way for his mind to start drifting if all that he had ahead of him was the sandy dirt beneath his fingers, and his blood mixing with the soil. Once he’d carved out a hole a few feet deep, he pulled the bag out of his backpack and dropped it inside.

He lit up one more cigarette for good measure, taking his time smoking it all the way to the filter, before he dropped that on the bag too. He covered the hole back up, stomping on it to pack it down and putting the vegetation he’d carefully uprooted back into the earth on top of it. When he was done, there was no way to tell anything had happened. His only witness was the ocean, the beach, and the night sky. 

Sitting back on his heels, he stared out at the ocean for a good long time. It was time to start over once again. He’d need a new identity. A new name. While he sat there, he flipped through his old passports and licenses, he had been an Alex, a Chris, at one point a Stefan, and plenty of other faces. He remembered a boy he’d met in passing once, in a different city, in a different time. A moussy boy with brown hair. A Neil. 

He missed Erik. He missed Germany. Feeling accepted and loved was such a new comfort, he never truly appreciated how quickly he got accustomed to it. Ich liebe dich, geh und hilf diesen jungen was all Erik could say, a hug so comforting Nicky cried, and a kiss from his lover. The plane ride was uneventful, and the stony silence of these boys when he arrived was consistent. It's only for a couple years was the mantra he repeated over and over. Expensive phone calls and text messages weren't going to be permanent. Just until they graduated.

He and Erik had an agreement though. Erik was open to having individual casual affairs in their time apart. There was the list of course, but both of them agreed that at the end of the day, a kiss is a kiss, as long as it stays a kiss. The crushing weight of isolation when he was around his cousins was starting to destroy his spirit, so maybe it was time to take up that deal for once.

After splashing his face with water, Nicky looked up into the mirror one more time. He practiced the big smile he'd been greeting the boys with. They didn't care one way or another, but he knew they probably needed the positive attitude and support. They'd hate him even more if they realized how miserable he was being there.

"Good morning boys! Time to get up," he called, walking into the kitchen to start breakfast. He had a closing shift at the bar last night. Frankly he hadn't had time to sleep yet, but they still had high-school and life still goes on.

After he dropped the boys off at school, he absolutely crashed. He set an alarm for 3 to pick them up, and finally caught up on his sleep. Once they were home, and once again completely ignoring eachother, Nicky kept busy with everyday needs. Shopping, a little bit of cleaning, that soap opera he'd been casually watching. His phone went off while he was putting groceries away; Erik sending a photo of him at the top of some mountain he'd climbed. Ich wünschte, du könntest das sehen. He had to turn away from the twins for a moment to wipe his face before he shut the phone off and carried on. That evening was a rare day off. It was time he took advantage of that.

"Andrew, I want to go to a club tonight. I'm getting shitfaced so you're on driver duty."

Nicky tried to keep his tone light and conversational, but the boy just stared at him. Everything was almost always answered with silence. He didn't say no though, so it worked for Nicky. Not that he could regardless, that boy made a promise with him, and he was surprisingly serious about keeping it. Nicky watched over Aaron, and Andrew complied with Nicky's way of doing things.

At 10, Nicky bounced downstairs and hopped in the car. The music made up for the lack of conversation, which made things so much easier in general. If he could get away with blasting music at the house all the time, he would. The house would be a much happier place if he didn't have to wonder why both of them hated talking to him.

The club was a blur of drinking and dancing, all of the stress vanishing from his body. None of his problems were too big for tequila, it was Columbia afterall. While he was dancing, he accidentally brushed up against a man's front side, and turned around smiling to apologize. The blistering glare made him falter, so he ducked his head in apology and walked to the bar. A couple more drinks at the counter, and awhile of observing the people-situation, told him the other kind of letting loose wouldn't happen tonight.

It was mostly burly men and drunk college girls, his least favorite combination. Sighing he whipped out his phone and messaged Andrew to come get him. The night wasn't a total waste, but it was definitely disappointing he couldn't let loose all the way.

Stepping outside, Nicky immediately realized he might have made a mistake. Andrew wouldn't be there for at least 15 minutes, and the man from earlier was there with his buddies.

"Sorry, can I just get past you?" He tried, moving to walk around the men.

A hand shot out and next thing Nicky knew, he was flat on his back wheezing. They were shouting something at him, but his head was ringing from hitting concrete. One of them punched his jaw, making him bite down on his cheek. The blood that filled his mouth couldn't be a concern for long when the another man kicked his stomach. He tried to curl into a ball, anything to protect his organs, but a third man grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upright.

Gasping for air, Nicky coughed to get the blood out of his mouth. His eyes darted around, trying to find help. There was a woman on the corner that he made eye contact with, silently pleading for her to do something. She sneered and mouthed something at him. Faggot.

Ah. He understood now.

There was never a place for him here.

His body went numb as they continued punching and kicking him. He wondered when they'd get bored and leave him to die or if they'd do that part themselves. There was a clump of hair on the sidewalk. It was probably his. It looked like his beautiful curls.

The buzzing in his head intensified as one of them open-handed clapped his ear. There was a sharp popping sound and instinctively he knew that was a ruptured eardrum. There was a crack too, when he got kicked. Probably his ribs. Internal bleeding sounded like an awful way to go, but he was so chock-full of adrenaline he felt like he was watching this happen to someone else.

Finally, it happened. The man he'd bumped into brought out a knife and started closing the distance. Nicky managed to close his eyes, letting his body go limp. He missed Erik. He missed Germany. For the first time, he hated someone more than himself. He hated Tilda. How dare she be so awful and so dead that he has to die now.

He felt like he'd been waiting for quite some time now, but nothing really had happened. It was possible he was already dead, but he felt too aware for that. Sliding his eyes open, he realized at some point they'd let go of him and he'd collapsed onto the ground. He moved his head as much as could and realized with horror;

Andrew.

They were going to kill Andrew.

There was no way that boy could protect himself from four men that had almost killed Nicky. His violent past, and current tendencies didn't make up for being so outmatched. The men were absolutely enormous, with a vendetta. There was no surviving people who exist to prove a point about their masculinity. To his surpise, Andrew was fighting back against them, actually it looked like he might even be taking them down. He was holding something and bashing one of them repeatedly. He watched one man go down, and then heard the crack of another man's legs. One by one each of them fell until it was just Andrew standing.

He didn't stop though. He just kept going. Where did this endless rage begin? Nicky could have sworn Andrew despised him, so why was he going so far to protect him? Too far even. The men looked worse off than Nicky felt. Nicky might die, but in that moment he was absolutely certain those men would.

As his consciousness slipped away, he noted how the blue and red lights made the teenager look. He looked like a demon. There was nothing there, on his face. There was nothing in his eyes either.

Somehow, though, Kevin was devastated. To be fair, Andrew thought, If I was groomed all of my early teenage years into a relationship as an adult, he paused and corrected himself. If Neil was, he might be devastated, too. No. Probably not. Neil had enough braincells and flight instincts to recognize grooming and manipulation.

He sighed and kicked at the lump on the floor. "Kevin, get out of my kitchen. Go sleep on the couch,"

Big sorrowful eyes stared up at him. A face carved with sheer indignation.

"Andrew have a goddamn heart.. I love her." The words were slurred, washed down with tears and self-righteous pity. This numbskull really saw no issue with his relationship at all. For that matter, it didn't seem like anyone did.

"And she loves younger men. Now we can all be happy when you get your first grey hair. Get. Up."

"Fuck you," Kevin paused, fighting back a gag as he sat up which made Andrew take two steps back. "We are getting back together in a couple years, it's just too difficult with our exy schedules. When I can transfer teams and join her in court.."

The muttered words were slightly strained as Kevin briefly flailed, trying to stand. Andrew snatched the vodka out of his hands and screwed the lid back on. He'd have to take that to bed with him unless he wanted to wake up in an hour to take Kevin to the emergency room. He watched Kevin trudge into the living room and collapse on the couch. He'd probably be warm enough without a blanket. Vodka was most likely the only warmth he needed right now anyway.

After he brought a bottle of water over to Kevin, Andrew finally went back to his own room. Neil, the asshole, cracked an eye open, clearly giving up on pretending to be asleep. The red head scooted back to let Andrew slide into bed, taking the spot against the wall for once. Andrew immediately recognized that Neil only took Andrew's normal side so that he himself wouldn't have to be on Kevin duty.

"Our first kid, what a nightmare," Neil whispered, pulling the blankets back up around both of them.

"Don't dismiss King like that, rabbit. Kevin is nothing compared to our son."

Neil snorted and slid slightly closer in the bed, staring at Andrew. He'd never admit it, but most of the tension seeped out of his body as he finally relaxed next to the junkie. Kevin's whole pathetic mess of a situation made Andrew halfheartedly wonder what they'd be like, if things ended. Would Neil cry for him?

"What is it, Andrew? You have a staring problem,"

Andrew choked on the words he heard, Neil throwing him a feral smirk.

"A goddamn hypocrite," he muttered, pinching Neil's arm. "For the record, rabbit, if things ever end, I expect you to kill yourself over it."

"Ah of course, Romeo and Juliet style?" The dry response made Andrew roll his eyes.

"No, just you. I'm not willing to stoop that level. I'll give you a nice funeral though. Good burial spot. It's in the backyard, should we take a look tomorrow?"

"Is it the spot next to the orange tree?"

"No. It's the spot marked off next to where the sewer line is,"

This post

He got out of bed and dressed as fast as possible, walking into the kitchen and putting on his best nonchalant face in case Andrew was just somewhere around the house. But the house was empty, eerily so. All of Andrew's things were there, nothing out of place, but the nervous feeling kept crawling up and up into Neil’s head.

How could he have possibly slept through this? What if something had happened? If his senses had dulled this much then he could never trust he'd be safe again. Briefly, for just a moment, he missed that kevlar vest he slept in as a child.

Andrew's car keys weren't on the counter, so Neil grabbed his ratty backpack, and ran. He ran as fast as he could from their house to the grocery store 3 miles down the road. His car wasn't there. From there, Neil hitchhiked to the coffee shop Andrew went to for sweets. Nothing. Where else could he have gone? Why hadn't he reached out?

Neil pulled out his phone again and cursed. He didn't think to plug it in at all this entire time. Gritting his teeth, he fought down his panic and tried to think rationally. Where does Andrew go? What would Andrew decide to do on a random Wednesday morning? Did Andrew leave him? Did he have a choice? Eden was too far for a casual trip without saying anything, and Andrew wouldn't be caught dead practicing Exy in his off-hours. The foxes were all out of town. None of the frequent stops made sense.

Fighting down the waves of nausea threatening to overtake him, Neil ran back to the house. In his panic, he forgot to bring keys or even close the door, but at least it didn't show him down from running in. He put the phone on the charger and paced while he waited for it to turn on. While he waited, he entered the code to the safe to retrieve his binder. Flipping it open, he skimmed the page of random numbers until he found his uncle's.

Hearing the ding of his phone powering on, Neil ripped out the page and ran back into the bedroom. He flipped it open and saw no notifications, so he dialed Andrew.

"We're sorry, the person you are try-"

Again.

"We're sorry, th-"

Again.

"We'r-"

Again.

"W-"

He flung the phone across the room, not paying attention to the crunch as he sat down on the ground, burying his head into his hands. Where could he have gone? Andrew always answered, even when he was driving. They'd almost crashed on a few occasions because Andrew had to answer the phone.

Was it the remaining people in his father's circle? One of Riko's former minions? Maybe the Moriyamas themselves? It could even be a ghost from Andrew's past. There were too many possibilities.

Neil regretted everything then. If he had never stopped running, Andrew wouldn't be in as much danger as he could be right now. It was foolish for him to think he could build a life with someone. Not when everything came back to Neil being the Butcher's son.

The front door handle rattling set Neil into motion, he grabbed the gun he kept under his pillow and backed into a blindspot. The door creaked open, but the shut was silent. Footsteps grew louder as the person moved around the house. Whoever it was had to be looking for something. Eyeing the binder still tucked under his arm, Neil bit back a curse as he realized the page with his uncle's number hidden on it was on the floor in plain sight.

He turned the safety off on his gun and got ready to move. He might be able to intimidate his way out of this one if they weren't expecting him to be home. Gun first, he padded silently into the doorway and nearly jumped out of his skin when he came nose to nose with Andrew himself.

Neil quickly flicked the safety back on and tossed the gun behind him onto the bed. Ignoring the dumbfounded surprise on Andrew’s face, he scanned him for injuries, walking around him.

"Rabbit what the fuck is going on right now?"

The words were harsh, that was fine. Everything was fine.

"Andrew take off your coat. Let me check and make sure you're fine." He demanded, his mind almost as frenzied as his shaking hands.

"Neil, why the hell did you have the gun out?"

It was less of a question and more of a demand, but Neil barely processed the words, still circling Andrew looking for hidden injuries. His breath left him in a rush as Andrew grabbed his shoulder and forced him to his knees. The blond looked absolutely pissed, but he was whole. Andrew was safe.

It was then that Neil was able to take his own body into account. He was hyperventilating, and he could feel sweat dripping off of him. He knew he had to look insane right now given the circumstances.

"Andrew-"

"Stay on the fucking floor. Do not move. Do you hear me? Yes, or no?"

"Yes." Neil whispered, letting Andrew push his head to direct his gaze to where his knees buried into the carpet. In his peripheral, he noticed Andrew starting to walk away and his hands moved fast than his mind.

He regretted that. Andrew's whole body stiffened immediately as Neil grabbed his pant-leg. He whipped back around and Neil felt more than saw the gaze piercing into his soul.

"Fine." Andrew muttered, tossing something he was carrying on the bed.

Neil looked up as Andrew crouched down in front of him, his hand directing Neil's chin so he could look into his eyes.

"Spit it out. What the fuck was that?"

The words were soft. The volume didn't match the tone and his face was stony. Neil realized he didn't even care if Andrew hated him at this point. He was just glad he was wrong.

"You were gone. You were gone and I slept through it. You didn't leave a note. Or answer my calls. You just vanished."

His voice was hoarse, almost just a croak. He finally mustered the courage to stare back into Andrew's eyes. He was staying silent, waiting for him to find the words and finish explaining.

"I let my guard down, Andrew. When I woke up and I realized you'd vanished I thought- I thought that something had.."

He trailed off as he realized how insane he sounded. Everything had been peaceful for years, and Andrew almost never told Neil where he was going to begin with. The only thing that was different today was that Neil had been asleep when he left.

Andrew stared at him for a few moments, reading something in his face. Maybe processing his words. He still didn't have any sort of expression to indicate what was going on in his own mind, but his grip on Neil's chin softened.

"You are pathetic, Josten. Get up. Go shower. You look like you fell in a lake. I went to a store, I'll show you what I got later. You weren't abandoned, and I wasn't taken. Everyone is safe."

With those words, Andrew stood up, taking Neil's hand and pulling him to his feet as well. He started to walk away again but Neil couldn't let go of his hand.

"Can you come with me?"

Andrew was right, he was being pathetic. His mind was still going wild and the idea of him being out of eyesight was making his heart race. Andrew sighed and yanked Neil behind him into the bathroom, helping him undress and turning the shower on. When Neil got in he was expecting Andrew to leave, or stand by the door, but he followed him in. Just like their first shower together, he'd only bothered to take his socks and his armbands off.

When both of them were finished with their tasks, Andrew led Neil into the living room and pointed at the giant plastic box facing away from them. It looked like a crate. Walking over toward it, he heard a scuffing sound and metal clinking coming out of it. It was a pet crate. Neil had to resist hanging his head in embarrassment as he leaned down and opened the cage, watching a kitten emerge.

Washing off was a menial task but it worked to calm him down. When the shower was over, he grabbed a towel for himself and dried off as quickly as possible, handing a second one to Andrew. He stepped away to let Andrew undress and dry off, busying himself with putting the binder and the gun back into the safe.

When Andrew finally emerged from the bathroom, he dressed in silence, likely processing everything that had just happened. He wasn't angry enough with Neil to make it known, but he was experienced with broken things. Somehow, Neil doubted he was very surprised.

"You got a cat?" He croaked.

"No, we got a cat, Josten."

Neil's head whipped around as he picked up the kitten to look at Andrew, startled. It felt like such a permanent move that it was shocking it came from him.

"Right. We got a cat. I," he took a deep breath, "I appreciate this, Andrew. Thank you."

"Shut up, Josten. And for the record, if you ever pull a gun on me again?"

Neil couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. They were just two broken men, figuring out how to smooth their sharp edges to fit together.

_