Chapter Text
Eden’s Twilight is packed tonight.
Neil doesn’t think it’s for any special occasion but that doesn’t mean much. He’s never been one to pay attention to holidays or the calendar in general. All he knows is that bodies are packed in here like sardines, and the smell is a stifling mix of salt, cheap perfume, and desperation. It’s nauseating if he focuses on it. The bass beats a rhythm that has the table vibrating. The loud hum of the crowd is smothered over it, pierced only by the occasional shout of some wasted soul. They pulse under his skin like a living thing.
It’s also unbelievably hot.
Summer in South Carolina brings a wave of humidity that coats the air, drenching its natives with enough pressure and heat to make them stir-crazy. It’s inescapable and irritating. Neil can hear the whir of air conditioners dying, vainly trying to pump cool air into a room with too many bodies to make a difference.
He’s just gotten back from the bar with more drinks for the others, and his fourth water of the night. As he slides back into the booth, he curses under his breath. This is frustrating in multiple ways.
First, all this liquid keeps forcing him to use the john. Yet despite the amount of water he’s sucking down, he can’t seem to beat the heat. Sweat crawls down the back of his neck and he can feel a droplet continue between his shoulder blades. His shirt feels disgusting. If he wasn’t so conscious of his scars, and the unwanted attention the action would bring, he’d strip it off in a heartbeat.
Second, the crush at the bar is unbelievable. Roland is a hurricane behind it, making drinks as fast as his fingers can fly. In order for Neil to get his attention though, he has to squeeze himself between other patrons and the bar. There’s been so many hands touching and bodies sliding against him that his skin is crawling. He’s taking a shower as soon as he possibly can.
But third, and most importantly, it keeps separating him from Andrew.
If Neil doesn’t like the crowd, Andrew hates it. He’s forced Neil or Kevin to go get drinks each time tonight, and while Kevin bitches, Neil can’t blame him. He hopes the others might call it an early night since their usual haunt has been run over by whatever is happening here. But Kevin, Nicky and Aaron look like they’re only getting warmed up, picking up on the energetic vibe of the crowd and running with it.
Neil stifles a sigh.
Andrew lifts an eyebrow at him. What’s your problem?
Neil ignores him. He scowls at the dark sea of bodies swaying on the dance floor before Nicky suddenly blocks his view.
“Woohoo!” he screams as he sits down. “This is the fucking best!” Aaron and Kevin are right behind him. They slide into the booth, chests panting as they grab for their drinks. “Having fun, Neil?”
Neil glares at him.
All too quickly, Nicky drains his glass. “Captain…” he coos, fluttering his lashes. “Won’t you be a doll and get your friends some more drinks?”
But Neil has had enough. “Fuck off.”
A drunk Nicky is undeterred though. He swings immediately towards Andrew. “Andrew? Cousin mine?”
Andrew is not swayed by this endearment. He glowers at Neil who crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve been getting them all night. It’s your turn.”
His tone is dangerously petulant, but Neil can’t find it in himself to care. He wants to leave. He doesn’t want to be with Nicky and the others any longer. He wants to go home and crawl into bed with Andrew, like he’s been craving all week. But regardless of his wants, he doesn’t think Andrew will stand for it and waits for the tongue lashing.
Andrew takes one glance at Kevin, who’s swaying dangerously even though he’s seated, before he sighs. He grabs their empties and loads them back onto the tray before weaving through the crowd.
Neil’s stomach does a small flip at the concession.
As Nicky chatters on inanely, Neil ignores him to watch Andrew. He’s barely able to see him between the people going by, but he can just spot him forcing his way into a corner of the bar so his back is against the wall. Neil gives a small smile at this.
Andrew says something quick to Roland, who throws his head back and laughs, teeth shining white in the dark. Then he gets busy making whatever orders Andrew has given him. Andrew pulls out his phone while he waits.
Inspired, Neil whips out his own and quickly types.
Neil: Hot blonde standing by the bar. Maybe I should talk to him. Get his number.
Neil sees Andrew’s eyes narrow before he snorts. Then he types something back. Neil’s phone vibrates not a second later.
Andrew: You wouldn’t know where to start.
Neil grins as the two of them go back and forth.
Neil: How would you know? I’ve been told I’m fairly attractive. I bet I could make a move.
Andrew: Go ahead. Let him listen to you drone on about Exy and see where that gets you.
Neil: Mmm I bet he’ll love it. Especially when I tell him how good I am with my hands.
Andrew: He’ll realize you’re an idiot the moment you open your mouth.
Neil: Or maybe he’ll start thinking about what I could do with my mouth.
Andrew: Tell lies?
Neil huffs out a laugh.
Neil: No.
Then he pauses before typing.
Neil: How he could push me to my knees and shove his dick down my throat. Thrust his fingers into my hair and pull hard. Have me beg for it. I’ve wanted him to ever since we got here.
Neil watches Andrew freeze before his head snaps up to meet Neil’s gaze across the room. His eyes are hard beacons, unrelenting as he stares Neil down. Hunger rises in them, sharp and unbidden.
Feeling comfortable with this is fairly new for both of them. At first, sexting had been hard, especially for Neil; he’d been overwhelmed and mortified for days after Andrew sent his first text. But Neil was a fast learner, especially as he realized it gave him a safe way to express how badly he wanted Andrew at times. He sometimes still felt like an idiot sending them, but he knew he was safe with Andrew and that it didn’t mean they always acted on whatever was said. It also gave Andrew the ability to distance himself and process his reactions. Overall, Neil thought it was working well for them.
So well, in fact, that he purposefully lifts an eyebrow and smirks in response to Andrew’s now probably uncomfortable state by the bar. Andrew narrows his eyes and begins typing something. Neil sees the three dots pop up on his phone and eagerly waits for the response.
Then the spell is broken as some drunk asshole plows into Andrew.
Andrew is caught off guard, which Neil guiltily realizes is his fault. He jumps to his feet as Andrew grabs onto the bar, finding his balance. Neil can tell the guy is apologizing from here. He also sees the moment the guy uses the opportunity to hit on Andrew.
Big mistake, Neil thinks, his eyes narrowing. Hopefully the place is too crowded for security to notice a tiny blonde cramming sharp objects into some idiot’s throat. Then again, maybe he should hope that they do. Kicking them out would mean Neil could go home sooner.
He stands rigid, waiting for Andrew to snap into action.
Except for some reason, Andrew isn’t shoving the guy back, threatening with knives and snarling at him. His eyes are wide, frozen. He’s been triggered by something, trapped in some memory.
He’s vulnerable.
Neil rushes out of the booth, stepping on Kevin in his haste and earning him an earful, but the crowd is too thick for him to move quickly. He pushes and shoves his way down to the bar, but he can’t move fast enough. His eyes are locked on Andrew as he forces his way through the crowd, determined to make it, determined to be there in time.
But as he draws close, someone else steps up to the plate.
The drunk guy is shoved back by another man who, from what Neil can tell, rips him a new one. The asshole goes slinking off like a dog with his tail between his legs. Then Andrew’s savior turns to him.
He’s a little taller than Neil but not by much. His skin is the color of whipped coffee, paired with dark hair and green eyes like Kevin’s. He's got tattoos crawling up his arms, his lip and eyebrow are pierced, and he’s got a set of rings lining the shell of his right ear. His clothes are black, mirroring Andrew’s, but he has an easy smile on his face that’s surrounded by a short-trimmed beard.
He doesn’t crowd Andrew, doesn’t touch him or even reach a hand out. But Neil can see him talking low, his face drawn in concern.
Finally, Andrew seems to come to. He stares at the guy for a second, and Neil expects him to plow his fist into the guy’s stomach. But instead Andrew nods at him before reaching around and grabbing the full tray of drinks Roland has stacked on the bar. Then he stares the other man down.
With an amused grin, the guy holds his hands up and steps to the side of Andrew, giving him room to move forward. Andrew takes off and doesn’t look back.
Neil meets up with him not three steps away. “Are you okay?”
Andrew doesn’t spare him a glance but keeps moving back towards the table. Neil follows silently. When he gets there, Andrew flings the tray down with a startling clang, causing some of the liquid to spill.
“What the hell?” Aaron snaps, snagging a shot glass quickly. Nicky and Kevin immediately follow suit. They act like Andrew might throw the drink tray just for the hell of it. It’s a distinct possibility.
Andrew doesn’t reply as he sits down sharply on the edge of the booth seat. When he makes no plans to move or let Neil slide past, Neil sighs. He steps up onto the booth seat on the other side, walking over Nicky and Aaron to get back to his spot. He ignores their protests as he slides back down into the middle of the curved seat.
“Ooh are you mad, Andrew, because that hottie at the bar saved you?” Nicky asks, because he obviously has a death wish.
“Shut the fuck up, Nicky,” Neil warns.
“Because he was fine as hell, Andrew. Just your type,” Nicky purrs, oblivious.
“Shut the fuck up, Nicky,” Andrew repeats, and there’s a real threat behind his words that Neil’s was lacking.
“Tall, dark and handsome,” Nicky cradles his chin in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table. There’s a far-off look on his face. “Those eyes, those hands- what I’d ask that boy to do with them. And that lip piercing! Damn, tell me you saw that, Andrew.”
“Jesus, that’s disgusting,” Aaron moans.
And even though Andrew is feeling off, Neil can see him pause as he looks at his brother. He doesn’t know if it’s to spite Aaron, or to prove to Neil that he’s fine (or maybe prove to himself that he’s fine), but Andrew’s reply is calculated, and far from the death threat Neil was sure he’d been about to deliver.
He rolls his eyes and says, “I’m gay, Nicky, not blind.”
Aaron chokes on his drink before he mimes hurling. Nicky gapes then starts grinning, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide at Andrew’s admission. Even Kevin turns to stare at him fuzzily.
But Neil is rocked to the core.
Andrew is gay.
This shouldn’t be the startling revelation that it is. After all, this nothing they’ve been doing clearly shows where Andrew’s inclinations lie. Plus, the man is never one to mince words.
Neil knows Andrew’s had partners before him. Roland for one, but also others that he’s alluded to back from juvie. Andrew’s mentioned this all before. It shouldn’t be a surprise.
But today, with that one simple sentence, it’s as if the fog has lifted and suddenly he realizes he’s standing on a cliff’s edge. Or hesitating by the open door of a plane, ready to jump, before learning that he doesn’t have a parachute. It’s that horrible sensation of vertigo that he’s sure Andrew feels whenever they’re on the roof. And he wonders why he hasn’t figured this out before.
Neil has been so focused on his own sexual exploration with Andrew. He’s been wrapped up in the novelty of it, the boundaries the two crossed and created together. He knows there will never be another besides Andrew for him. He is Neil’s end and his beginning. His only.
But Andrew isn’t demi like Neil. Andrew is gay.
He has other options.
He looks up and catches Aaron’s eye of all people, who has his head tilted as he stares at Neil blankly. It’s an expression that the twins share. But then a corner of his mouth turns up smugly. He’s amused at something.
Neil narrows his eyes at him.
Aaron responds by lifting a single eyebrow, then says under his breath in German, “Guess you should have been faster.”
Then he snorts and looks away from Neil, dismissing him.
And now Neil’s heart is beating a staccato rhythm, almost bursting out of his chest. He can’t seem to look at anyone at the table even though he hears the conversation move on. His feet trudge beneath him mindlessly when they finally call it quits for the night.
Though panic coats his throat, he tries for some semblance of normalcy, survival instincts activating that tell him to blend in, stay out of sight. He can’t let Andrew see, not until he’s had a chance to think things over.
He holds his hand out for the keys, a silent offer to drive. But Andrew keeps them firmly in his grip. Neil isn’t surprised. Andrew needs control and space tonight.
When they reach the house in Columbia, Neil doesn’t bother going upstairs.
He straightens shoes in the hallway, ensures all the doors are locked, places glasses of water by Nicky and Aaron’s beds. He grabs one last glass and sets it on the coffee table, next to where Kevin is sleeping on the couch, before he drops into the armchair. His skin shudders under the steady stream of air from the A/C unit, the sudden drop in temperature like a slap in the face compared to the club. He listens to Kevin snore and stares up at the popcorn ceiling until his mind finally shuts down.