ADAPT OR PERISH !

I’VE ARCHIVED THIS BLOG ! 

FIND NEIL ON @crueltywon

I WILL BE FOLLOWING ALL THE PEOPLE I FOLLOW HERE AS SOON AS THE FIRST 24 HOURS ARE UP ( so the account shows in your notifs so you can choose to follow back if you want ) 

      The natural instinct is to push Neil’s legs off, but he begrudgingly resists it, though the second slight eye roll since Neil arrived is not imperceptible.  ❝ Never be sorry, junkie, ❞ he finishes on one hand and moves to the other, coating the wound with the medication before wrapping it up. If Neil’s knuckles look like this, Andrew ponders for a moment on what Jack’s face probably looks like and enjoys the image his mind comes up with.  

    ❝ You need ice, ❞ Andrew states into the void, and even though he does not want to get up and leave Neil alone, he does it anyway, coming back with one small bag of ice and one larger one. He throws the larger bag on Neil’s stomach before placing the smaller one on the galaxy that spreads over his cheek, blending in with the gruesome scars to create a landscape Andrew hates himself for thinking is pretty.     

    When he sits back down, he places Neil’s legs over his lap again, leaning back into the headrest. He sighs. ❝ Will you ever stop giving me a headache, Josten? ❞

HE WONDERS IDLY, WHEN DID ANDREW BECOME A MOTHER HEN ? WHEN DID ANDREW FALL SO DEEP, THAT HE COULD NOT WATCH NEIL’S PAIN. THAT INSTEAD, HE MUST ACT TO RIGHT THE IDIOTIC MOVES NEIL MADE. WAS THAT LOVE ? HIS MOTHER NEVER TAUGHT HIM. BUT HE SUPPOSED, SHE DID ALWAYS CLEAN UP AFTER HIM, CARE FOR HIM. & WASN’T THAT WHAT ANDREW WAS DOING ?

BEING SO DEEP IN THOUGHT LEAVES NEIL IGNORANT OF ANDREWS MOVEMENTS  ( & WHEN DID HE REALLY BECOME SO COMFORTABLE TO NO LONGER WATCH ANDREW ? TO LET HIM BE & DO TO NEIL AS HE PLEASES ? ) YET HE CANNOT HELP THE WAY HIS SHOULDERS EASED AT ANDREWS HARSH GAZE. SCARRED FINGERS HOLD THE NUMBING ICE, CAREFUL TO EASE THE PAIN THAT THE IDIOT CAUSED HIM. HE WONDERS THOUGH, FOR STOOPING DOWN TO JACKS LEVEL, WAS HE NOT THE IDIOT HIMSELF ? ( HE WAS IN HIS FATHERS EYES, JACK WOULD HAVE NEVER TALKED IN SUCH WAYS TO NATHAN NOR NATHANIEL )                    ❝               thank you Andrew, for everything               ❞

          ‘    extravagant  observation,    josten.        looks  like  you  can’t  get  rid  of  me  that  easily,    huh?    ‘

      Andrew knows there’s more than Neil’s letting on. He might not say I’m fine anymore, but the blonde can still hear it.  ❝ Your face is a cheap shot, ❞ he blurts out, completely deadpan as he rummages through the little box, picking out the bandages and medicine, knowing the chance of there being blood underneath Neil’s jersey is high. 

      Carefully trained eyes notice how the striker’s fingers don’t bend right, and Andrew rolls them back into his head before pushing the box and everything else aside so he can scoot closer to Neil.  ❝ Put your arms up, ❞ another order, and as soon as Neil complies, his fingers grip the edge of the material and pull it up, taking care not to bump into Neil’s likely broken fingers. Andrew assesses the mess that is the striker’s ribs with his fingers, poking and prodding to see how Neil reacts, trying hard to be gentle but when is a storm ever not a storm? No skin is broken, but Neil’s going to need more than ice. 

    He thinks on how much longer he’ll have to do this, and the conclusion he comes to is: the rest of his life.

      ❝ Who started this? ❞ he asks, feigning curiosity only because he needs to distract his mind while he works, one hand finding the bandages while the other one pulls one of Neil’s hands closer so he can wrap the bleeding knuckles. 

A PART OF HIM IS PAINED, ACHING IN A BONE WEARY WAY THAT IS REMINISCENT OF BEING SHOVED IN CLOSETS, OF GUNSHOT WOUNDS & THREATS. ANOTHER PART IS TWINGING WITH AMUSEMENT, JOY & MAYHAPS LOVE. THE CARE THAT ANDREW TAKES WITH HIS SOFT FINGERS, EASING THE JERSEY OVER HIS AUBURN CURLS. IN THAT MOMENT HE IS NOT A MONSTER, NOR AN ENEMY. JUST A LOVER, LIKE ANY OTHER. 

        As soon as he hears the door open and the subsequent chaos erupting as Neil barges in, a disaster on two legs as he’s ever been, there’s no need to guess what happened. It was doomed to happen sooner or later, with both Jack and Neil having it out for each other’s throats since Jack joined the team, but Andrew vowed to himself he wouldn’t get between it. If Neil Josten had to die five times to learn his lesson than so be it, there was no grave that could hold that boy down. Hazel eyes are trained on the entrance to the lounge before Neil’s physique can be viewed, and it doesn’t take long for him to take in the damage dealt. He’s in bad shape.  ❝ You thought wrong. Sit down, ❞ he orders, getting up without warning so he can go to the bathroom and come back with the first aid kit. Andrew sits back down, pointing to Neil with his chin. ❝ Show me. ❞

DEATH HAD NOTHING ON THE MAN BEFORE HIM, SO OFTEN DEATH HAD CREPT OUT OF THE SHADOWS TO REACH FOR HIS ANKLES, & OH HE WOULD HAVE GONE READILY. YET HE KNOWS DEATH TOO HAS A FASCINATION WITH THE BLONDE BEFORE HIM, YET ANDREW WAS A FEARED THING, EVEN BY DEATH ITSELF. NEIL SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO COME HOME INJURED. HE TRULY, WALKED INTO THIS HIMSELF. 

ON UNSTEADY LEGS HE LOWERS HIMSELF DOWN ONTO THE COUCH. HE BONES ACHING IN A WAY HE HASN’T FELT FOR MANY YEARS. YET THAT SICK SATISFACTION, THAT PART OF HIM THAT IS ALL NATHANIEL, IS GLAD FOR THE DAMAGE DONE TO JACK. A BROKEN NOSE AND KNIFE TO THE GUT WAS LIKELY NOT GOING TO DIFFUSE THE SITUATION BUT IT EASED THE BLOOD LUST THRUMMING THROUGH NEILS SKIN. YET WITH CAREFUL MOVEMENTS, NEIL WATCHES ANDREW WALK BACK IN                 ❝               It’s just my face —— & my left rib cage. He got a cheap shot               ❞

I think we all know Santa isn’t real so ——who cares ?

You got: DEATH

ACCURATE  You can be a bit intense and find yourself drawn to dark and mysterious things. You’ve been through a lot and have probably seen your fair share of endings, but probably cope with it through humor.