one of the things Andrew hated most was seeing the fear in Neil's eyes. they were in the middle of one of their usual insignificant arguments. Neil was still talking, producing one argument after another in defense of whatever ridiculous point he had decided was worth defending, and Andrew didn’t notice exactly when irritation turned into exhaustion. normally, he would have simply disengaged or walked away, but this time something sharp and thoughtless slipped out before he could stop it, louder than he intended and startlingly harsh compared to the quiet tone he’d maintained throughout the conversation. It was enough. Neil cut himself off immediately and took an instinctive step backward, putting an arm’s length of distance between them. It was a familiar distance, one Neil knew by heart — the space needed to avoid unwanted contact. the thought hit Andrew before he could stop it: Does he know the length of my arm in case he needs to avoid being hit? the question settled heavily in his chest as he stared at Neil. the brief spark of excitement that had been visible in his eyes moments earlier had vanished, replaced by something tighter, more guarded. Neil was studying him now, measuring the danger standing in front of him. the last time Andrew had seen that look, he had known Neil was ready to run. looking for an escape route? somewhere beneath that instinctive reaction, Neil knew Andrew would never hurt him. Andrew knew that. Neil knew that. but instinct was faster than logic, faster than the conscious reminder of who was standing in front of him. the realization seemed to hit Neil almost immediately, and Andrew could practically see the frustration that followed. Neil could have reacted like that around anyone else and hated himself less for it. not Andrew.
for the first time in a long while, Neil went to bed without him. he still lay facing the wall, however, leaving the familiar space beside him untouched as though he fully expected Andrew to fill it eventually. half an hour later, he heard the apartment door open. then came the quiet rattle of keys, the sound of running water in the bathroom, the soft clink of a mug being set down somewhere in the kitchen. every small noise felt like a deliberate delay, another excuse to postpone returning to bed. still, Neil knew he would come back. eventually the mattress dipped beneath a second weight. Andrew knew perfectly well that Neil wasn’t asleep; he wouldn’t fall asleep without him, not when they had left things unresolved. Neil’s blue eyes lifted immediately to meet his, and for a moment neither of them moved. Neil wasn’t sure who was supposed to take the first step, but he knew he needed Andrew to understand that his reaction had been a mistake born of instinct and nothing more, something that had nothing to do with Andrew himself. after several quiet seconds, Neil shifted closer until his forehead came to rest against Andrew’s chest. he curled more securely beneath the blankets, settling into his space without hesitation.
starting conversations was no easier for Andrew than it was for Neil, especially during the rare misunderstandings that happened between them, so in the end all he managed was a quiet, steady murmur against the crown of Neil’s head. “I won’t do that again.” and a gentle kiss on the top of his head right after. Neil felt the need to answer somehow. to make sure Andrew believed him. a moment later, Andrew felt the weight of Neil’s arm settle across him, pulling him a little closer, followed by a soft kiss pressed somewhere over his heart—the closest place Neil could comfortably reach. neither of them particularly liked falling asleep wrapped around each other. no matter what happened, they usually preferred their own space once it was time to sleep. but misunderstandings had always changed the rules. on nights like this, sleep was postponed in favor of a more important ritual: an extra hour spent in quiet, unspoken strong embraces and absent-minded hands drifting across backs and through hair, in gentle touches that only pulled them closer before they eventually separated once more for another long night.
