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No straighter path than to struggle

Chapter 3: Angst, drugs, and soup

Summary:

Angst followed by shenanigans

Notes:

Andrew is protective and doting but he's also a butthead and I love him

this fic has the word "soup" once for every 1k.

Chapter Text

The morning of Neil’s surgery was hot but hospitals are air conditioned. Neil assumed this was why Aaron was still in the room when he woke up as they tried to avoid running up the electric bill at the house. His eyes were bloodshot and underscored by thin purple skin. 

“You look worse than I feel,” he said quietly, unsure if Andrew was awake yet. Aaron looked up from his textbook with a dead glare and flipped him off without comment. 

Neil attempted to extend his legs and flex his hips. What was usually the most gratifying stretch of the day only served to punch a groan out of him at the gnawing pain that radiated from his stomach. It was duller than the sharp stabbing of the day before, eased by whatever leftovers were seeping through his I.V. but still very much present. His discomfort wasn’t helped by sleeping on the same side all night either. For the last few months, he would often wake up and turn over at some point and take the pressure off his joints. Sometimes he didn’t even wake up to do it anymore. Last night, however, he had slept like a log and there was no room to turn with two bodies in the narrow bed. 

Andrew was on his back, one arm around Neil, who had his face pressed into the side of his chest. The hand on Neil’s waist squeezed once and began to rub back and forth over the hospital gown. 

Aaron watched. Maybe he was too tired to do it subtly or maybe he just didn’t care but he stared at them as Andrew came to, not with a flinch but a flex. Neil grumbled out his jealousy of Andrew stretching his legs and feet. 

“Sucks to be you,” Andrew said, voice gravelly. The vibration against Neil’s ear was almost too loud for him to make out the words. He pinched Andrew’s stomach in retaliation and earned himself another bone popping, exaggerated stretch complete with relieved groan and everything. 

“Mean,” Neil complained. The hand on his waist came up briefly to swipe through his hair before returning to its rubbing. Neil closed his eyes. 

“I’m hungry,” Andrew said. Aaron paused for a beat, the words taking time to register, and then pulled out his phone. 

“I’ll tell Nicky to bring us something. What do you want?”

“Waffles.” 

“And fruit,” Neil added.

“You can’t eat anything before surgery.”

Neil opened his eyes, less because of the comment and more because of Aaron’s tone. He sounded like he was about to add on sorry . His expression said what his voice couldn’t, sleeplessness robbing him of his antagonistic inhibitions. It was… it was… 

“Gross,” Neil said.

“Whatever,” Aaron grumbled at his cellphone. Huh. Not even a fuck you

“Have him take you home to sleep,” Andrew told him. 

“I’m staying,” Aaron argued and wasn’t that an odd little thing. 

“Die then,” Andrew said and Aaron rolled his eyes. 

“I’m a pre-med on a sports scholarship. I can sleep anywhere. Bunch of assholes.” This last part was muttered under his breath as he adjusted his blanket and settled down using his textbook as a pillow. It took less than a minute for him to fall asleep. 

“I miss being able to do that,” Neil mused idly.

“Oh yea, sleep deprivation. How you must suffer so without it.”

“Point. Did you sleep okay?” Andrew grunted in response, eyes falling closed again but he didn’t sleep.

Neil knew that it was early in the morning but he felt uncomfortably awake. A whisper of anxiety was creeping back into his veins at the prospect of repeating anything from yesterday. His head was clearing enough to remember more of it than he truly wanted and anticipation was beginning to bubble up. The monitor ( why was he still hooked up to so many things?) picked up its beeping just so. He felt Andrew’s sharp intake of breath. 

“What’s wrong,” he said, voice even as ever, a comforting monotone. 

“Everything, I guess,” Neil explained. 

“Body.”

And, oh, what a familiar question that was- saved for times best left behind closed doors and away from prying ears. They had a deal, though, so Neil answered, “Hurts less than being stabbed. Like I was hit with a hammer from the inside.”

“Brain.”

They had a deal. “Nervous. Very nervous.”

“Bad nervous,” Andrew supplied and Neil nodded.

“I can remember things but remembering makes me anxious that they’ll happen again.” Afraid was almost the right word, but Neil had felt so many different kinds of fear that he did not want to catalog another.

“Which things are you worried about?”

“Going away. Feeling helpless around so many people. People doing things to me that I don’t understand.” Oh god, he was going to willingly- he would let them- they were going to-

The heart monitor began picking up minutely. 

“Andrew they’re going to cut me open. They’re going to- the knives .”

Shut up ,” Andrew said fiercely. The edge to his voice stopped Neil more than anything. He sat up in one motion that pushed Neil up as well, balancing him with his hands until they were both sure Neil could stay sitting up on his own. Then, he twisted in the dinky hospital bed, sheets tangling around their bare knees, and took Neil’s face between his two hands.

They were quiet for a long time. Neil stared into Andrew’s eyes, focused on identifying every swirl of color that made them unique, trying to commit them to memory the way Andrew could in seconds. Andrew did not have any words of comfort. They would do no good. Surgery was unavoidable and so was everything that came with it. The people, the medication, the sleep, the knives. 

No. Scalpels. Tools. Instruments. He didn’t think he’d ever been hurt by a scalpel before. They were made for minute precision, not mass damage and fear mongering. They were meant to minimize pain. An entire person would be there just for his pain and medication and sleep. Tammy would be there, with her genuine face that didn’t react to his scars and with her questions of consent. 

He was afraid. It was okay to be afraid. Elias was teaching him healthy ways of being afraid. 

“Can we watch Exy?” Neil asked. He liked Exy. It was a distraction and a comfort and sometimes comfort was more important than facing reality. That was okay. He has permission. 

“Do whatever,” Andrew said and lowered his hands. Neil knew he meant it as whatever you want and whatever you need . Andrew used the controls on his side to raise the head of the bed more and Neil used the remote to flip through the channels until he found a rerun of some national game. It took a second longer to readjust into comfortable positions, Neil attached to wires and liquids and oxygen and his hips begging for a new position that was always at odds with what his stomach needed.

“I’m about to rip everything off of me and run down the hall,” he threatened. He brought up one knee to stretch the other out and then switched, settling against Andrew’s crossed legs. He was still wearing the clothes from yesterday despite the change on the bedside table. They smelled stale but it wasn’t overpowering and the view of Andrew’s bare calf bulging where it was tucked over one foot was well worth… well basically anything.

“You’re the one who wanted to watch this,” Andrew said when Neil couldn’t look away. 

“Can I put my hand on your knee?” Neil asked.

“Yes.”

Yes . He felt a little silly, because Andrew wore shorts for Exy, but in plain clothes he wasn’t covered in knee socks and padding. In the spring, Andrew had worn these shorts in their overheated dorm and let Neil touch his legs all over for the first time. Now, he put his hand on Andrew’s knee and only moved as far as his fingers could stretch, tickling himself on the sparse blonde hairs. After some indulgence, he watched the game. 

Nicky came with breakfast not much later, knocking quietly and peaking before coming in. He was reserved, quiet, and Neil remembered how things had gone last night without remorse. 

The waffles he brought smelled so sweet that Neil wrinkled his nose when Andrew opened them. He hadn’t eaten properly in two days now but he didn’t feel the effects as severely as was possible. Maybe the hydration, maybe something else being pumped into him. 

Nicky sat near Aaron’s feet, patting him absently on the ankle as he told them in low tones about what was going on at home. Neil ignored him mostly but his low voice was a soothing backdrop to the muted game. He tried hard to focus, to busy his brain with watching the tv and hearing Nicky and smelling sugar and feeling Andrew’s knee under his palm. There was a baseline of vague dread circulating around his chest and throat that threatened. It didn’t threaten anything in particular, just threatened

Andrew put his free hand behind Neil and scratched his back through the opening in the gown. Neil squeezed his knee and focused on that, too. 

Too early, too too early, Tammy announced her presence with a knock. Nicky was the only one to greet her and scooted out now that they had been caught with too many guests in the room with words of love. Neil didn’t want him to leave, feeling that dread take him by the neck.

“I am early, Neil, you still have time,” Tammy said at the look on his face. 

“Why?” Neil asked. He was surprised he got even the one word out. 

Tammy spoke as she putzed around checking everything. “Call me a worrier.” 

“Are you worried for the same reason I’m still hooked up to that thing?” Neil asked with a head tilt at the heart monitor and its muted beeping. Tammy made a considering face with a nod and a shrug.

“Yeah, a bit. Sorry about all this.” She held up a pinch of wires from where she was checking a reading on the monitor. “Anxiety attacks and dissociative episodes can affect blood pressure and oxygen levels and yours had dropped a bit too much for our liking yesterday. It looks like you had an uneventful night, though, which is good.”

“You… came in to work hours early to check on me? Why ?” Neil asked again. He was beginning to get a funny feeling in his chest. Not bad, just funny. It ballooned, taking room away from the apprehension. 

“I came in because I realized your anesthesiologist would be coming in earlier for you than most pre-op patients to talk about preventive options. We want you to feel comfortable and keep your blood pressure at safe levels.”

“You still haven’t answered the question,” Andrew said. Neil nudged him with his elbow but Tammy just raised an unimpressed brow at him. 

“Then ask better questions,” she teased and oh, Neil liked her very much. “I thought it would be best if I were here to reintroduce them.” 

Neil stared at Tammy for a long time as she took his temperature, trying to come to terms with the consideration of someone who was basically a stranger. Not just her preoccupation with his well being hours before her shift, but that she even thought about his delirious reaction to people yesterday. It was the same way she looked at his scars. It was the way she spoke about his issues in a way that made them seem like non issues. Just facts. The same way Elias spoke to him for the first few months of therapy. 

“Too bad Aaron is asleep. I wanted him to meet Dr. Stevens properly.”

That caught Andrew’s attention but Neil was the only one to acknowledge her. “The doctor who takes on volunteers?”

Tammy brightened. “Oh, did he tell you? Exciting, right?”

“You think he’d be good for it? He still has two more years of undergrad left.”

“I think that’s what caught Dr. Stevens' eye, actually. You might not remember much of yesterday but Aaron had some really insightful things to say for someone at his level.”

“It wasn’t your idea?” Neil thought back to what Aaron had said yesterday evening and his excuses for missing out on this opportunity.

“I was a little preoccupied with somebody trying to pull themselves out of a CAT scan,” she said with a look at Neil. Whatever. He wasn’t embarrassed. “Aaron had left to make some calls and Dr. Stevens commented on his intuition and he’s always doing what he can to support students. He used to work at a teaching hospital and between you and me, I think he misses it.” 

The conversation dropped when Neil didn’t know what to say. He didn’t particularly care for Aaron past what he meant to Andrew and Nicky. It was interesting, however, to have insight into who he was outside the foxes. 

Tammy left and came back with a middle aged blonde man in a white coat. Andrew had gotten out of the bed and stood out of the way between Neil and the comatose Aaron. He had more to say than Neil, stepping into a role that Neil didn’t feel equipped to deal with, as Dr. Stevens began talking about different options for his pain and anxiety and their effects. 

Neil hated the idea of falling asleep before the surgery but the possibility of losing himself was worse. Even without the fever. Even with the pain contained to ‘mostly bearable’ instead of ‘I am currently dying.’ His mental presence might hold those reactions at bay but they also made him more conscious of dangerous thoughts. 

Dr. Stevens talked about blood pressures and pain thresholds and used a lot of words that Neil would never be able to spell. The influx of information was overwhelming, going in one ear and coming right out the other and he struggled to hold on to any shred of comprehension. 

The three of them were so… concerned about everything he was feeling. And he was, too… but it didn’t seem like there were any options to help without sedating him. He didn’t want that. He told them he didn’t want that yet. 

Dr. Stevens opened his mouth to respond but Andrew stepped forward first and asked, “Why not now?”

Neil… didn’t have a logical answer for that. He just didn’t want to sleep. He stared into Andrew’s face and shrugged lamely.

“That’s a shitty reason,” Andrew said. Tammy clucked her tongue at him but Neil wouldn’t ever want Andrew to be someone else. 

“It’s never been a shitty reason before,” Neil argued unfairly. He actually felt guilty for framing it that way, like his no wasn’t respected. That wasn’t exactly true. Andrew didn’t react to the jab.

“Unless it becomes a medical necessity, nobody is going to force this if you say no.”

Because Neil hadn’t said no. Not yet.

“If it’s just total sedation you’re worried about I can work around that,” Dr. Stevens said. “You will probably feel quite tired and possibly fall asleep but you should be responsive enough to be woken before your procedure.”

And that did sound like a decent compromise, however unhappy Neil was at the need or possible side effects. He didn’t have a reason to argue and he was so tired of feeling scared, of the wrinkle that had been a permanent mark between Andrew’s brows. He said, “Okay,” and watched the wrinkle soften slightly. 

Dr. Stevens asked him more questions and told him about the surgery and the amnesia he would probably experience. Tammy was the one to administer whatever Dr. Stevens had decided on, inserting it right into a port attached to his I.V. 

For several minutes, he didn’t feel anything.

The drowsiness hit first, sending a jolt through him as he remembered the uncontrollable feeling of falling unconscious yesterday. It barely lasted a minute, Andrew’s hand threaded in the back of his hair, before a trickle of calm began to settle in. Maybe less calm and more carelessness. 

He spoke to Andrew. He said things and had things said to him. Talking kept him awake. He talked about the Exy game on T.V. He talked to Tammy. He talked to Aaron who was definitely not going to sleep as well as Ne-

 

A tube is pulled from his throat and he coughs.

 

It’s too loud so he tells everyone to shut up .

 

Oh my God shut the fuck up .

 

Someone is bothering him and he tells them to fuck off.

“Does that sound cognizant enough to get this bastard out of the PACU so I can get some peace?”

 

That’s better.

 

“Was he like this yesterday?”

“Definitely not.”

It was… very important that they did not know how drunk he was.

“I think he’s coming back.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t say stupid things.”

Those were… those were some legs.

Please shut up.”

Neil waved his middle finger toward the wobbly, double image of Aaron. God, two Aaron’s would suck so much .

“I couldn’t agree more.” Andrew held up his hand, palm out, and Neil took his time to high five it because missing would give away his level of sobriety.

“Yeah, because a three minute high five screams sober. And since when do you give high fives?”

Neil’s pinky made contact and he adjusted his hand sideways to press it flush with Andrew’s. Yes. That is how they work. What was the next step? He was pretty sure there was a next step. He wrapped his fingers around Andrew’s palm and shook it up and down a few times. Yeah, that seemed right. 

“...okay yea, I guess I get it. Nicky is going to be pissed we didn’t record this.”

Neil used his grip on Andrew’s hand to push his body a step back from the bed. It gave him a better look at his legs. Nice.

“We… were going to go… t’a’tel” he said. He mostly got the slow words right. He was sure they didn’t notice his little slip up. “We… were going t- t’ave ssss uch a g’time.”

“It was just a shitty motel off campus,” Andrew said. 

Neil sighed at Andrew’s knees. “ Yea bu’ we werrrrre go-ing to have sex there.”

Oh my God ,” Aaron and his double yelled and stomped out the door. Neil waved at him with his free hand. 

“Bye!” he chirped.

“Are you done pretending you’re sober, now?” Andrew asked. Neil tried to look at his face, blinking and squinting in an attempt to focus. He could tell Andrew was making some expression, he just couldn’t make out the details through the double image. 

“You haf to say… ever-rything.”

“Why.”

“Anton.”

“Anton?”

“I can’t see yooouuurrrr face. Can’t translate y’r eyebr’s.”

“And what about Anton?”

Neil drew his head back, shocked. “How d’ you know ‘bout Anton? Jussa- just a dream .” 

“Tell me.” 

Neil hummed. He wanted to touch Andrew’s knees but his hand was trapped forever by holding Andrew’s. As he spoke, the words got easier and easier to pronounce with less effort. “Anton Min-yard. He was th’ third tw’n. Arrow- Arny- Aar’n bub’ sorbed him but he was still a ghos’ baby and he grew up. T’ be a chess champion.”

“Hm.” Andrew did something with his free hand. “Tell me again about Anton,” he said. Neil did because he liked doing things for Andrew. 

As time progressed, Andrew became a single, solid entity and Neil could articulate to Tammy that he wanted to go home. She made him eat and drink and walk and pee on his own. Easy peasy. Well. Maybe not easy , but doable. His limbs felt cottony and weak and eating hurt his throat but he did it all without any help. 

“I’m very good at this,” Neil told his cranberry juice. Someone snorted. He pretended it was Andrew. 

 

“Do you need any help getting changed?” Tammy asked. Neil peaked under the cotton swab he was holding over the bleeding puncture left behind by the I.V. 

Andrew swatted at him until he stopped and said, “No.” 

Neil wasn’t the only one who changed. Andrew took a pile of clothes to the bathroom as Neil picked through his duffel bag. There… really wasn’t anything wearable but all of the soft cotton and elastic bands promised comfort. 

Andrew came back wearing a pair of Neil’s jeans. He dropped his dirty clothes onto the bag and helped Neil change into a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt. He was very comfortable but a glance down made it look like he was pantsless. Andrew clicked his tongue and tucked a pinch of cloth into the front of his shorts. While he was at it, he tugged at the drawstrings as far as they would go and tied them tight. 

“Reeeeal lil,” Neil said to the knot.

“Real something all right,” Andrew said. He was texting on his phone with one hand and dropping the unopened tupperware onto the bag with the other. Neil worked very hard to close the zipper. 

Tammy came in with a wheelchair saying something about hospital policy. Andrew helped him into it and hefted the bag onto his shoulder. Aaron was waiting in the hallway and dumped his blanket and textbook onto Neil’s lap. 

Andrew got a head start to cool the car and pull it up while Tammy gave Neil a run through of the aftercare that the others already got. She gave him a packet of paper and patted down his fluffy hair and Neil felt a wave of gratitude. 

“Thanks for sticking around even though I punched people,” he said. Tammy smiled. 

“Thanks for not punching me. Aaron,” she nodded her goodbye to him. Aaron ducked his head to his chest with a grunt and pushed Neil toward the elevator. It was remarkably slow. 

“It’s gonna be really shitty.” 

“Obviously,” Aaron said. After a beat, his curiosity won out. “What is?”

“The car I’m gonna buy you so you can get off your ass and volunteer with Dr. Stevens.” Aaron was behind him and very, very quiet. Neil knew the truth but he pictured his face comically surprised. “You said it was just some physician, said it was Tammy’s idea. But she told us the truth.”

“Why the fuck would you buy me a car?” Aaron said quietly. 

“A shitty car,” Neil corrected. The elevator dinged and they headed past the cafeteria to the front of the hospital. “I’m sick of seeing your stupid face around.”

Aaron let out a single bark of surprised laughter at the irony. They began approaching the entrance, Andrew leaning against the Maserati outside in sunglasses. 

“And maybe as a thank you.” 

The doors slid open. They dropped it. 

Andrew pushed off the car and tossed whatever was in Neil’s lap into the back seat. As Neil stood slowly, Andrew kept his hands hooked below his armpits to offer complete support if needed. Aaron had barely handed off the wheelchair to a staff member before he let out a violent, “Oh Come on! What the fuck! ” behind Neil.

“Hey Andrew?” Neil asked as they maneuvered him into the front seat.

“Mhm?”

“These Nicky’s shorts?”

“Mhm.”

“The ones that say nasty on the butt?”

“Mhm.”

“That explains it.”

Andrew stood on the curb, hands braced on the car and door, head tilted so he could look over his sunglasses. “Or it could be your balls hanging out.” 

Neil cursed and looked down at his lap. The hems of the shorts were short but everything was in place. Andrew closed the door on Neil’s insult and peeled out of the lot as soon as they were all settled. 

“I fucking hate this family,” Aaron snarled in the back seat. Neil smiled out the window. 

Pulling into the driveway of the Columbia house felt like a fresh breath. It felt like he hadn’t been there in weeks. Nicky and Kevin brought in their things while Andrew set Neil up in the living room on the couch. He wedged him with pillows on each side, draped a blanket over his lap, and even lifted his feet onto the coffee table. 

“Busy Bee,” Neil commented. He still didn’t feel completely in control of the line that connected his brain to his tongue. Andrew pinched Neil’s nose once and left to putter about. 

 

There was soup and a schedule. The soup was leftover from the day before and lukewarm. The schedule was from the hospital and said when Neil should take his next painkiller. Neither of these things appealed to Neil in the slightest. He didn’t care that his stomach and, weirdly, his shoulders hurt like hell. He didn’t care that he was capable of eating. Can’t lose your mind to medication if you can’t take it. 

Neil took the remote from where it was wedged between his pillow throne and Kevin’s thigh and changed the channel. 

“Hey! I was watching that,” Kevin griped. Nicky shushed him from one  of the recliners. 

“Be nice to him, Kevin. He literally had an organ taken out today.”

“Yea, Kevin,” Neil added. He flipped until he found the baking show he discovered yesterday, which earned a disgruntled noise from Kevin.

“Too bad you missed therapy because you’re going crazy,” Kevin grumbled, crossing his arms and slouching down. 

“Therapy means I have self worth now,” Neil said. “We’re watching baking.” He stirred around the bowl of cold soup, jumbling the little pasta letters.

With some fiddling, he managed to pile off to the side the letters FUK U. He elbowed Kevin in the side. Kevin craned his neck over and gruffed out, “c’mon, man.” 

There was some cursing from the kitchen and then Aaron stomped into the living room to drop into the other recliner. 

I’m the one who got the recipe from Katelyn’s mom,” Aaron said. “ I started the fucking meatballs yesterday and he thinks he knows everything about Italian wedding soup? He doesn’t even like soup.” 

“Does anybody like eating soup in the summer,” Kevin said. Aaron flipped him off. Neil twirled his spoon around until he had a collection of letters that said EAT SHIT.

“Ugh, stop,” Kevin whined when Neil nudged him again.

“What on earth could he even be doing?”

“He’s spelling shit in his soup.”

“Kevin,” Aaron said like he thought Kevin was the stupidest person on the planet. “He took a dose of painkillers an hour ago. He can’t even spell his own name.”

“Poor thing,” Nicky cooed. Neil attempted to look pitiable under the affections. “Remember how he reacted to Dust? Baby’s got the tolerance levels of an actual baby.”

None of them had to know that the medicine was tucked under his bowl. Neil concentrated and spelled out HISTORY IZ STUPID and nudged Kevin again.

“You’re stupid!” Kevin shot back. 

A second later, a wet dish towel slapped into the back of Kevin’s head and slid down his neck. He shot forward with a loud, “dude!” and tossed it onto the floor. He and Neil turned to look over the back of the couch (Neil with quite a bit of difficulty) to see Andrew standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and face unimpressed. He didn’t go back to the kitchen until Kevin stood up.

“God, fine . I’ll go hang out in Nicky’s room.”

“Oooh, goody! Let’s goss ,” Nicky said, getting up as well and jogging ahead. Kevin glared at Neil, like it was his fault those two were going to hang out. 

“How do you sleep at night?” he asked.

“Usually as the little spoon,” Neil answered. Kevin rolled his eyes and left. 

And then there were two.

Neil wanted to put the bowl on the coffee table but his shoulders were radiating with pain and he didn’t think bending over would work in favor of the stabbing in his stomach the way it had pre-surgery. He could eat it clean and put it on the couch or floor, but then he wouldn’t have an excuse not to take his pills. He resigned himself to holding it for the rest of his life. 

Whatever Andrew was doing, it took a while, giving him time alone to recharge is social battery. Neil watched people bake patisserie (he even learned what the word patisserie meant) and Aaron poked around his phone. It was how most of the forced vacation had gone, various combinations of the five tolerating each other. Usually it was Exy on t.v. though. 

“You don’t have to,” Aaron said down to his phone. Even with his memory problems of the day, Neil knew what he meant. 

“I mean it when I say shitty. You’re going to be so embarrassed by it you won’t even park it near the tower.” Okay, maybe not that bad, but it would definitely be one that Andrew would ridicule so the karma of it all balanced out. 

“Whatever. Fine. I guess knowing someone with a rich uncle has its perks. Might as well abuse them.”

That was… huh? “Rich uncle? My uncle? Uncle Stuart?”

Aaron finally looked up with an impatient expression. “Did you think Wymack wouldn’t let your only living relative know that you were in the hospital? Why do you think we have the a.c. on? He paid our electric bill and gave Nicky money for groceries and shit for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already paid off your fucking hospital bill. Rich bastard.”

He said this all like it was disdainful but Neil remembered how hot the afternoons had been getting. Nicky wouldn’t let Neil help with the house bills so it was nice to see him get some assistance. He hadn’t even realized that, yeah, hey, he wasn’t sweating through his shirt. He even had a blanket

“Still gonna be shitty,” Neil said under his breath. 

“You don’t have to at all ,” Aaron argued even though he’d just said he’d allow it. Disagreeable was his natural state, after all. 

“Yea, but I’m gonna . Deal with it.”

“But why ?”

“Because, Aaron!” Raising his voice put too much pressure on his diaphragm, he continued quieter. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s a big deal for a pre-med jackass to be noticed by a real, good doctor. Because I remember a lot of what you did for me without being a dick about it. I mean, what would have happened if we hadn’t gone to the hospital?” Aaron didn’t say anything, as if he thought the question was rhetorical. “Seriously. What would have happened to me?”

Aaron chewed on his cheek and shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. “No way to know for sure. The cyst could have burst and caused an infection. Pancreatitis could have gotten worse until it affected you kidneys and lungs. Blood pressure could have dropped and you could have gone into shock.”

Neil felt his brows furrow. He had a memory that felt more like a dream of rushed conversations. “That almost happened anyway,” he said. 

“Not that bad and not because of your pancreas, though that exacerbated the problem.”

“Why did it happen?” Neil asked. He kind of knew. He wanted to be told again. 

“Your body was shutting down. You were basically playing dead as a response to perceived threats.”

“But they thought it was my pancreas,” Neil said. He didn’t remember, but he knew. 

“Yeah,” Aaron said. 

“But they were wrong.”

No , they just- I knew-” He sighed through his nose and pursed his lips. “I knew if they only treated the physical cause it might not be enough. They didn’t know about- that you had-” he gestured to Neil’s head like it was some big shameful secret that he had PTSD. “They needed to know how severe it could be- that it could-”

“I remember.” It wasn’t a total lie, Neil had a recollection, but they were venturing too close to a civil conversation and he wasn’t sure the delicate balance of their antagonistic relationship could weather it. “I’m buying you a fucking car.” It was a thank you. “A shitty one.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and went back to texting. 

 

Neil had been stabbed before. He’d had plenty of injuries to and around his abs. He knew how to handle the pain left behind from the surgery because he’d dealt with it before. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get off the couch or toilet without help at least until tomorrow evening. He knew he’d sleep in the recliner to keep himself on his back and to sit him up in the morning. He knew to do absolutely anything to prevent coughing or sneezing (and laughing, too, he supposed, but that had never been a problem on the run). 

He didn’t expect to feel so puffy or to have shooting pain in his shoulders. Or the burping. Mostly it was the shoulder pain. It was almost bad enough to distract him from his stomach pain. It felt like his arm had been pulled out of its socket. 

“Why do my shoulders hurt so goddamn much?” He asked Aaron. 

Aaron didn’t even look up from his phone to say, “They can’t always get all of the air out after laparoscopic. Should be better tomorrow.”

“Will the pain meds help?”

“Nope,” Aaron said, popping the p like a dick. He looked up for all of a second, annoyed. “You should take them, though. You’ll heal faster if you can rest and relax.” Neil frowned because Aaron definitely indicated before that he thought Neil had already taken them. “Talking to you for ten seconds is a dead giveaway. You’re not sneaky.”

Rude. He was very sneaky. It wasn’t his fault he’d been lulled into a false sense of security by… you know, by actual security and stability. Whatever. If they wouldn’t help his shoulders there was no point. He’d never had anything more than cheap vodka and adrenaline before and these wounds were way smaller. 

The sun was setting by the time Andrew came back from the kitchen. The others had wandered about eating leftovers and snacks and Neil watched it all from his nest. When Andrew came in, it was with a large mug. He picked up the cold alphabet soup and paused before handing over the mug. Several capsules were nestled into the blanket in the imprint of the bowl.

Neil didn’t see what the big deal was, why Andrew’s passive face didn’t look quite so passive anymore. 

The new mug had more soup, this time a rich yellow broth with all kinds of different things- pasta, tiny meatballs, leafy greens. It smelled good enough to eat even though he still wasn’t hungry. 

Andrew discarded the old bowl onto the coffee table for someone else to deal with and sat as close as Neil’s pillows would allow. 

“You’re being an idiot,” he said. 

“That’s nothing new,” Neil said. He was always doing things others didn’t understand. At least that hadn’t changed. 

“Why didn’t you take your pills?”

Neil would have sighed, but the movement echoed through all of his pains and made him flinch instead. Which was also painful. Andrew was unimpressed. 

“I’m tired of feeling out of control,” Neil said. He felt like he’d been saying that a lot lately. Maybe this time it would stick. 

“Then sleep through it,” Andrew said. Well sure, that sounded so easy. But falling asleep? How many times had he done that in the past 48 hours. How many of those times had been his choice? How many of those times had been terrifying? What would make now any different?

He didn’t say any of this out loud. He didn’t need to explain himself anymore. What was one more thing? One more thing he didn’t want, one more thing he had to do anyway. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? 

Whatever. 

Neil brought the cup up to his mouth, fingers extending as far as they could so that he didn’t need to move his shoulders, and sipped the broth. It was rich but not salty. It was good. 

“No need to look so tragic about soup,” Andrew said. Neil couldn’t shrug so he didn’t say anything and sipped some more. They often spent long stretches of time in silence, never feeling a need to fill it. Neil didn’t know why he felt like he was being unfair to Andrew by keeping quiet now. He took another sip and nibbled on a meatball. 

“This is good,” he said softly. Andrew wouldn’t care about the compliment but he got it anyway. Neil slowly, slowly made his way through the soup. Soup that Andrew had made. Soup that Andrew had spent a long time making for him . Neil said, “Thank you,” and felt like it wasn’t enough. 

There was no hand in his hair because Neil was no longer sick and Andrew needed space. He often needed space. He had spent the last two days pushing himself in every way to do what had to be done. And even after all that, he was still there in the busiest room of the house, pushing himself more. Neil considered his mug, the time spent on the recipe when the rest of them were relaxing. Aaron had done all the prep work and had wanted to finish it himself but Andrew had chosen to do it instead, alone and quiet in the kitchen.

Neil looked to Andrew now and found him staring back. A joke was there but stayed buried. Neil thought of Andrew in the hospital with him, talking to so many people and asking questions and making decisions and he wasn’t sure he would be able to do the same quite so competently if their positions were switched. 

He wanted to touch Andrew. He didn’t. He wanted to smooth away the wrinkle between Andrew’s brows so he took his pills. 

He didn’t say thank you again but he did say that they should get Kevin. 

“Why,”  Andrew said. 

“To help me get into the recliner so I can try to sleep.”

The crease came back with a vengeance. It was impressive how it could appear without any difference in Andrew’s expression. 

“Because I can’t roll in my sleep or sit up on my own,” he explained further. The crease remained. “And you’ll get a break. I know cooking wasn’t enough time. It’s okay if you go upstairs.”

“Oh, Neil,” Andrew said, an old adage saved when he thought Neil was at peak idiocy. He pushed his hand through the front of Neil’s hair until it caught in the tangles. “You get stupider every day.”

It was an avoidance that Neil didn’t allow. “Don’t push yourself. You’ve already don’t so much.”

“I’m not.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

They stared for several moments longer before Andrew went to get a large glass of water. He made Neil drink it all and then helped him stand with hands under his armpits. A groan punched out of him at the movement, pressure on his shoulders and down through his ab muscles. Once up, though, it felt good. His legs were the only part of him that didn’t feel bloated and using them was a relief. 

Andrew followed Neil like a shadow as he paced around the whole downstairs for a few minutes. Neil kept his eye on the clock, wary of when the meds would kick in. He guessed thirty minutes and planned for twenty. 

“Last chance,” he said at the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t think I’m coming back down tonight if I go up there and I’m going to need a lot of help.”

Andrew looked apathetic. He said, “Yes or no,” like Neil was the one who needed space. 

“I should be asking you that,” he said. 

“Answer.” 

“Yes.”

Andrew kissed Neil once, closed mouthed and short. Neil felt a swell of affection and turned back before it could show on his face.

The stairs were slow going but felt good on his hips and knees. Sedentary did not suit him. Andrew got him as far as the bathroom sink and left him to pee and brush his teeth alone. When he went to the bedroom, all of the pillows, and even some couch cushions, were organized on one half of the bed in a reclined throne. There was exactly enough room between it and the wall for Andrew’s body and the nightstand had been pulled out to box in the head of the bed in easy reach. There were soft snacks and water and pill bottles and, curiously, an alarm clock. It took a second for him to realize it was so he could take his next dose at the exact right time.  

Andrew didn’t acknowledge that anything was different as he got ready. It was too early for him to go to bed but he changed into soft pajamas, dropped his arm bands on the floor, and helped Neil situate himself. He even rolled up two blankets and tucked them into each side to keep him from rolling over. 

“I feel like an invalid,” Neil said as Andrew walked into his spot from the end of the bed with an arm load of things. It was all over the top, borderline unnecessary, and done without complaint. 

“You are,” Andrew said. He propped himself against the headboard and put an ice pack over Neil’s shirt on his swollen belly above the incisions. He pointed his small lamp away from Neil’s face and pulled out his book from the day before. 

“Will you read to me?” Neil asked to the ceiling. 

“Are you a child?” Andrew responded. It wasn’t a no. He couldn’t comfortably reach Neil’s hair at this angle so his free hand found Neil’s instead. His fingers traced back and forth over the patterned scarring of his knuckles as he began to read aloud a story of absurd detective work. 

Neil closed his eyes and focused on his senses. He could hear Andrew’s voice and the t.v. downstairs. He could feel Andrew’s hand on his. He could see a soft red glow through his eyelids and taste mint and smell that they both needed a shower. Fear didn’t creep in as the pain receded. 

It ended on a Thursday with a sleep and scars. The scars weren’t planned and neither was the sleep and Neil considered it okay. 

Notes:

Alternate title "🔪🥣👶" (Real title from Siren Call by Hanson)

I had a TON of fun writing this it was an excellent summer activity. Come find me on twitter and tumblr