Creative Writing: Neil Is Gone

Neil is gone. The words rang through Andrew’s mind, bouncing off his skulls. Wymack’s words from hours before were laced through his blood like poison, worse than anything he had been told by any of his foster families. It hurt; it hurt so badly that Andrew wanted to cut it out of his veins and let it drip to the ground with his blood. It had been so long since Andrew had wanted to destroy himself to keep someone. The last time had been Cass, but losing Neil was a thousand times worse.

Gone. Gone. Neil is gone. Neil is gone and he lied. He lied. Neil is Nathaniel. Nathaniel is gone. Andrew’s thoughts were a jagged, broken loop, slicing deeper into him than any knife ever could. Andrew didn’t care that Neil had lied in that moment. He didn’t

care about the Nathaniel Kevin had talked about, voice low and rough and a hand wrapped around his own neck as if that would stop Andrew from killing him if he wanted. Kevin was not Andrew’s concern. Kevin was not allowed to be so nonchalant about Neil’s disappearance. It was bound to happen eventually, Kevin had said. I don’t know why you’re all so upset.
Andrew had nearly torn his throat out for that. He was not allowed to tell Andrew not to be upset because Neil was gone and Andrew didn’t know where to find him. It was as unforgivable as it was awful. As much as Andrew hated to admit it, he needed to know what had happened to Neil. Neil was important and leaving Andrew in the dark was bound to get everyone killed.
Neil was a liar and a rabbit, but that didn’t make him any less necessary. Neil was a Fox. Neil was kind. Neil was fine with Andrew’s discomfort with touch. Neil was everything Andrew could never bring himself to want and everything Andrew could never be.
And now the damned feds had handcuffed him to Wymack for threatening them. At that point, anything sort of stabbing them wasn’t a threat. But now Andrew couldn’t go find Neil and sitting still was going to kill him slowly.
They had found Neil, but Andrew couldn’t see him. Andrew was furious. He snarled and yelled but he was still bound to Wymack and he wasn’t allowed to talk to Neil. Wymack said that he’d have to come with him to move the bus. Andrew didn’t have a choice.
When they returned to room, there were two feds outside. One of them was the one that had handcuffed Wymack and Andrew together. Andrew didn’t like him. Wymack asked what they were doing, but Andrew only heard the response: “Nathaniel is in there.”
Andrew didn’t think. He slammed himself into the door, forcing it open with his shoulder and dragging Wymack in after him. He’d be damned if he didn’t see Neil.
By the time Andrew reached Neil, he was bent double with gauze-wrapped hands clutched to his stomach. Bandages nearly completely obscured his face, but Andrew knew it was Neil. Andrew sank to the floor with Neil and tilted his head up so that he could look at his face. Neil didn’t resist. He never had and the thought made Andrew sick.
“They could have blinded you.” Andrew almost punched Neil for that. What business did he have worrying about Andrew when he had disappeared and come back looking like he had been through the wringer?
Instead Andrew started peeling off bandages. First he pulled off the one covering long slashes, clearly made by a very sharp knife and a very intentional hand. They were stitched shut. It wasn’t too awful, though, and surely nothing Neil hadn’t already lived through if the scars on his stomach were anything to go by. The next bandage came off, though, and Andrew almost choked on his breath.
Neil’s left cheek was mangled and red, burnt nearly to the bone, it seemed. Rage boiled in Andrew’s stomach. Whoever had done that to Neil was going to die a very slow, very painful death. Andrew clenched his fist in the collar of Neil’s hoodie to keep himself from pulling Neil any closer and causing him any more pain than necessary.
And then Neil apologized, as if it was all his fault. As if he had done that to himself. That time Andrew almost did punch Neil because it was not his fault in any capacity. This was the his father’s fault, his mother’s fault, the Moriyamas’ fault, Andrew’s fault for not keeping him safe, but not Neil’s. Never Neil’s.
It took so much effort not to smash Neil’s face in. But it was already going to scar badly enough, and Andrew had already caused him enough pain. He wouldn’t add to Neil’s suffering.
When the fed threatened to take Neil away again, something in Andrew snapped. He moved to get up but Neil stopped him, reaching out and framing Andrew’s face with his hands. Neil didn’t touch Andrew, but Andrew knew what he was doing and allowed himself to let Neil handle the fed. The feds needed Neil’s testimony and he wouldn’t give it if they took him from Andrew.
The handcuffs were finally gone. Andrew dropped his hand, not wanting to reach out and touch Neil. He didn’t want to hurt Neil any more. When Abby approached, though, Andrew did tug Neil closer. No one touched Neil without his consent ever again. No one. And for the moment, no one came any closer to Neil than absolutely necessary without Andrew’s permission.
“If you tell me to leave, I’ll go.” Neil sounded hopeless.
Something in Andrew’s chest broke. As if he would willingly let Neil out of his sight again. As if he would give Neil up that easily. Andrew tugged gently on Neil’s sweatshirt and said, “You aren’t going anywhere.”
The look of undiluted relief on Neil’s face made the wrath boiling Andrew’s blood cool off a little. Neil still looked at Andrew like he was the answer to everything but right then, Andrew didn’t mind it.

Months later, Neil was okay. Not fine. He was never fine. Thankfully, he had expanded his vocabulary a little and learned some other adjectives for that word. But Neil was okay. He was good, even. Andrew was just grateful that he was safe.
Neil’s nightmares had even abated a little. They were still there, of course – they probably always would be, just like Andrew’s. But they weren’t as violent and Neil had learned to turn to Andrew when he woke from one.
He was sleeping, then, with his back to Andrew, but his breathing was soft and steady and there was no tension in his shoulders. Andrew would be asleep soon, but he wanted to keep his eyes open for as long as possible. Drake was still alive in Andrew’s dreams, but in the darkness of the dorm room, the only person who mattered was Neil Josten.
Neil was many things. He was a liar and a runner and a Fox, but he was fixing most of those. He wasn’t keeping as many secrets. He wasn’t running for anything but recreation anymore and Andrew was always invited. He would always be a Fox, but Andrew would be, too, so that was more forgivable than others of Neil’s bad habits. And above all, he was Andrew’s. Andrew’s boyfriend, if you wanted to be like Nicky and assign tacky labels on their relationship. Boyfriend didn’t quite encompass what Neil was to Andrew. Neil was Andrew’s lover, yes, but he was also Andrew’s source of comfort and Andrew’s confidante if and when he needed one. Neil knew Andrew. Neil respected Andrew and he hadn’t broken under the full weight of Andrew’s issues. Then again, Andrew hadn’t broken under the weight of Neil’s past, so he supposed Neil was just returning the favor. Either way, Andrew was fine with it. Grateful for it, even, despite the fact that he would never admit that outside of his own head.
Andrew would never admit to anyone else that he loved Neil, either.

Hate was a safer word to use because hate came with fewer expectations. Even so, Andrew had stopped denying to himself that he had fallen head over heels for Neil Josten and that no one else would ever come into the picture. Andrew didn’t trust anyone else like he trusted Neil, so there would never be anyone else. Neil was more than enough to make Andrew happy.

Sure that Neil was asleep, Andrew reached out and slowly traced the phrase onto the bare skin of Neil’s back. I love you. Neil would probably never hear the words out loud, and he certainly wouldn’t hear them any time soon, but Andrew could do this because who else was there to see it?

After a moment, Neil rolled over with a sleepily lazy smile. Andrew’s heart froze. Neil reached out and gently carded his hand once through Andrew’s hair, then hovered his palm over Andrew’s cheek.

“Yes or no?” he murmured ever so softly. Andrew nodded and Neil let his hand fall, pressing his palm against Andrew’s cheek lightly.

“I love you, too, you know,” Neil breathed quietly. Andrew felt his cheeks flame against his will; he was glad it was dark and Neil couldn’t see his blush.

“A hundred and seven percent, Josten,” was Andrew’s only response, but he reached up to set his hand over Neil’s despite his gruff tone.

Neil only smiled that infuriatingly sweet smile and drifted to

sleep.