Work Text:
Andrew’s phone buzzed on the vanity in front of him. He blindly swiped for it, recognizing Neil’s ringtone. Renee dutifully stepped away from his chair and gave him some space. She turned around to organize her makeup brushes, giving him some facade of privacy.
This was his least favorite part about being an actor, getting ready for events. He had struggled with it as a teenager, having random makeup artists and tailors touching him. A few years back, though, he had met Renee at a fashion show, complimented her makeup, and the rest was history. The pair had become fast friends, and it didn’t hurt that she always respected his personal space.
“Neil,” he said, picking up the phone. He listened for a few moments to silence.
“You don’t have to go tonight,” Neil said abruptly.
Andrew frowned, “Would you rather go alone?”
“No,” Neil replied quickly. “I just,” he cut himself off, flustered. Nervous, Andrew’s mind supplied for him. He waited a few more moments, waiting for Neil to figure out his words.
“I know that formal events like this aren’t really your favorite activity,” Neil began. Andrew snorted at him. “You have to attend so many different award shows and galas, I don’t want to add this to your plate if you really don’t want to go.”
Andrew sighed, “Neil, have I ever done anything I didn’t want to do?”
There was a moment of silence. “No,” Neil answered.
“Then trust me when I say that I will be there. Besides, Renee is here and I already have several layers of makeup on my face.” Renee looked up at her name and smiled at Andrew. He grimaced at her in return. “This is happening and I will be there outside your apartment to pick you up in three hours, so you better be ready.”
Andrew heard Neil sigh with relief. “Okay, thank you, Andrew,” warmth filled Neil’s voice and Andrew felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “I’m glad you’re going with me. I hate going to these things alone. Plus, my suit is-” Neil’s voice abruptly caught off.
“Your suit is what ,” Andrew said suspiciously into the phone.
“Nothing, gotta go, bye,” Neil hurriedly stammered out, before hanging up unceremoniously. Andrew looked at his phone with disgust. Neil was up to something.
“And how is our Neil,” Renee murmured, stepping closer to Andrew, and waiting for his nod before she resumed applying a light foundation.
“Not our Neil,” grumbled Andrew, tossing his phone behind him to his bed.
“Fine. How is your Neil?” Andrew scowled at her; Renee grinned back at him.
Neil was not Andrew’s Neil. No matter how long Andrew had been painfully in love with Neil.
Andrew had known Neil for the past ten years of their lives. They had met at the Teen Choice Awards when Andrew had unknowingly stumbled into Neil’s hiding spot. Andrew, despite being 16 at the time, was more than a little surprised when his publicist had insisted that he attend the award show. He had starred in several stage productions that year and had only been cast in one indie film. Andrew wound up attending, feeling very out of place, but sucked it up anyway. More publicity meant more roles and more roles meant he could help Bee pay off their house. And for Aaron’s college. And medical school. And maybe a fancy car once he got his license.
Sometime during the second hour, he had abandoned his table and snuck out the side doors to a balcony. Pulling his lighter out of his pocket, he flipped it on and off. Bee had expressed her disappointment in him when she found out that he had been smoking with some of his older castmates. Aaron had lectured him about the deadly side effects even after Andrew had slammed the bathroom door in his face. The only reason Andrew didn’t smoke anymore was because he didn’t want to deal with their constant badgering.
No other reason.
All that to say, when he snuck out onto his balcony, to find it was not his balcony alone, he was annoyed. Crouching behind a potted plant was a very blonde, very slender boy. Andrew cleared his throat, and the boy jumped about a foot off the ground.
“Get down,” the boy hissed at him. Interested, Andrew obliged.
Only to immediately recognize the boy he was now hiding with. Nathaniel Wesninski, teen pop star, and son of two very famous Hollywood producers.
The two boys studied each other for a moment, listening to the muted chatter of the show behind the door. “Don’t tell them where I am,” Nathaniel finally said.
“Tell me why,” Andrew replied.
Nathaniel looked at him unbelievingly, “Did you not hear my performance earlier? I missed a few notes. My dad is going to-” he cut himself off, grimacing. Andrew raised an eyebrow. A few missed notes was nothing to hide about. Nathaniel scoffed at his expression, “Are you new?”
Andrew in fact was new. He had only been discovered two years earlier in a junior high theater production by David Wymack and his son, Kevin Day. The pair had been scouting for new talent and quite literally stumbled into the school’s auditorium. After the production, Wymack had approached Andrew and Bee, given them his card and his spiel. Andrew had called the man the next day and now here he was. Hiding behind a potted plant with arguably the most famous boy in America.
“I am new,” he replied.
Recognition dawned on Nathaniel’s face. “You’re Andrew Minyard. I didn’t recognize you with your hair buzzed like that.” Andrew stopped himself from running self-consciously over his head. The part he was currently up for was about a boy sent to juvie, and it required him to shave his head. Aaron had almost laughed himself to tears when he saw him. He sobered up pretty quickly when Andrew had reminded him that this movie would pay for at least two years of college for him.
Andrew scowled at Nathaniel, “Your hair doesn’t look much better.” This close, he could clearly tell that Nathaniel’s hair was poorly bleached blonde. Darker roots were popping out close to his skull.
“My dad says blondes are more marketable,” Nathaniel replied, without missing a beat.
Andrew sneered, “Do you always do what daddy says.”
Nathaniel stared back, unblinking. Andrew sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up to leave. The balcony door suddenly sprang open, revealing a woman with an outdated hairstyle and a very low cut red dress staring at him.
She flashed a wide smile at him, and something about it made Andrew feel queasy. “Have you seen Nathaniel Wesninski,” she cooed at him, her voice dripping in insincerity. Andrew felt his hackles raise.
“No,” he replied, shifting his stance to block the potted plant.
“A shame,” the woman pouted at him. “His dad is looking for him. He wanted to congratulate him on his performance.” Andrew didn’t believe a word she said.
“If I see him,” Andrew said slowly, “I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.” The woman smirked at him and closed the door again. Andrew stood still for a moment, and then turned to look back at Nathaniel.
The boy was curled tightly against the wall and was trying very clearly to stop shaking. Andrew dropped to his knees again behind the plant.
“Nathaniel,” he said, firmly. “You need to breathe.” He held out his hand to Nathaniel, and Nathaniel snatched it, squeezing it tightly. Andrew pressed into Nathaniel’s space, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. Nathaniel shifted, dragging his dress shirt down, exposing his chest a bit. What looked like a burn was spread across one of Nathaniel’s shoulders, reaching towards his collarbones. It looked like an iron mark; made deliberately and by choice.
Inhaling quickly, Andrew pressed against Nathaniel, “You aren’t safe with your family.”
Nathaniel quickly shook his head no.
“Leave,” demanded Andrew.
“It’s not that simple,” Nathaniel snapped. “Everyone knows, Andrew. Everyone. It’s one of the best known secrets in entertainment. My dad extorts people for parts in his movies, he runs drugs through various circles in Hollywood, he has prostitution rings. What he does to me is known and no one cares.” His chest heaved, his breaths becoming erratic and frantic.
“Match my breaths,” Andrew coaxed, “You’re on the verge of a panic attack and you need to have a calm head if you ever want to go back inside.”
For a few minutes, Andrew and Nathaniel sat quietly, breathing slowly, until Nathaniel’s breathing had leveled out.
“I care,” Andrew said. Nathaniel eyed him suspiciously. “No one should go through this.”
Nathaniel scoffed, “You don’t even know me. You just know what they make me to be.”
“Then let me get to know you,” challenged Andrew. He pulled out his phone, “Are you allowed to have friends?”
Nathaniel sighed, “Only ones who will enhance my status,” he replied mockingly. “But,” he ducked his head shyly, “I think you would be a good friend for just me.” He looked up and looked Andrew in the eyes, “Something I could have just for myself.”
Andrew felt his stomach flip dangerously. He shoved his phone in Nathaniel’s face. “Put your number in,” Nathaniel grinned at him, taking his phone and plugging his number in.
After a few more minutes of companionable silence, Nathaniel sighed unhappily. “I have to go back inside. I’m presenting an award.” Andrew stood up and offered Nathaniel his hand again to pull him up.
“Game face on,” he mocked. Nathaniel plastered a happy grin on his face and slipped inside. Andrew had stayed long enough to watch Nathaniel present the award. Something about Best On Screen Chemistry, Andrew wasn’t sure. He only had eyes for Nathaniel. If he was being honest with himself, that had been the beginning of the end for him.
What followed the next three years were secretive phone calls and late night text conversations. Sneaking away at award shows, movie premieres, and galas to get any time together. Nathaniel always put up a good front, but Andrew quickly learned how to read him.
Then, the unthinkable happened. The FBI raided the Wesninski mansion, and found not only drugs, but that Nathan Wesninski had ties to an actual mob. America was aghast. Andrew was not. Nathan was inadvertently killed in the sting, and Andrew was secretly pleased.
What really rocked America to its core was the FBI finding Nathaniel Wesninski, tied up and unconscious in one of the basements. Face sliced open and burned, and beaten to a pulp. Whisked to an expensive private room in a hospital wing, Nathaniel said he would only talk to the FBI if they brought one person to his side. Andrew Minyard.
Andrew was there immediately, heart in his throat, as he watched Nathaniel breathe silently, machines whirring around him. Hours later, Nathaniel began to wake. Andrew hurriedly got a cup of water ready for him when his eyes finally opened.
“Andrew,” Nathaniel rasped at him, taking the water Andrew presented to him, “They’re sending me away.” His heart monitor beeped quietly, steadily in the background.
Andrew’s heart plummeted, “Where? Protective custody? Witness protection?” He clutched the bed’s railing, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
“What? No, rehab,” Nathaniel replied amusedly. “I’m a pop star, I can’t go into witness protection.” Andrew glared at him, Nathaniel waved him off. “Anyway, I’m going until I’m fully healed and they’re going to release me after they have all the information they need to dismantle all my dad’s circles.”
Andrew felt his throat tighten, “How long will that be?”
Nathaniel shrugged, “I’m not sure. But this place they’re sending me to, I won’t have access to technology. Something about being in tune with nature.” He snorted derisively, “It’s only because other people with secrets will be there.” He paused for a moment, then gathered himself and looked Andrew directly in his eyes, “I get one person to write to while I stay there. Can I write to you? Yes or no?”
Andrew stared at Nathaniel, Nathaniel stared back.
“You want to write to me,” Andrew barely dared to breathe.
“Of course,” Nathaniel looked affronted. “You’re the only person who cared about me.”
Andrew’s eyes were burning. “Yes, you can write to me, idiot.” Nathaniel grinned at him, looking wildly pleased for someone who quite recently was near death.
“Excellent. Oh, Andrew, one more thing.” Andrew waved at Nathaniel to go on impatiently. “I think I’m going to change my name. I don’t want to be associated with my family anymore.”
Andrew pulled up the chair next to Nathaniel’s bed and settled in. “Let’s hear the options, then.”
“Oh, I already have one picked out,” Nathaniel said. Andrew raised an eyebrow at him, curious. “Neil Josten.”
Andrew’s heart skipped several beats and he felt his mouth go dry, “Josten? Like my-”
“Yes, like William Josten, that character you played in your first movie,” Neil smiled shyly at him. “You were the only person who genuinely cared about my well-being. I wanted to honor that with my new name.”
Andrew stared disbelievingly at Neil. “It will be permanent,” he finally managed to say.
“Let’s hope so,” Neil joked, tiredly. His eyes were fluttering shut. “Andrew, will you wait until I have to leave? I don’t want to go alone.”
“Nothing could convince me to leave,” Andrew whispered, but Neil was already asleep.
What had followed were simultaneously two of the best, and worst years of Andrew’s life. Letters from Neil came constantly, but without pattern. He told Andrew about his days, what he was able to do, his recoveries, and all the music he was finally able to write alone. His dad had always paid for Neil’s songs to be written for him; marketable, profitable, but incredibly bland. Now Neil was able to write his own songs and he sent countless loose sheets of lyrics to Andrew. Each time, Andrew thought Neil wouldn’t be able to write a better song, and with every new set of lyrics, Neil proved him wrong.
Ranging from melancholy prose of the loneliness and aching heartbreak of his childhood, to angry, spitting furious declarations of burning the world down. Devastatingly emotional songs about heartbreak that Neil always said were based on the books he was reading or scenarios he had just made up. “ People just don’t appeal to me in that way,” he had written to Andrew once. “It is fun to make it up though.”
It was no surprise to Andrew that Neil had the range.There were even several songs that to the untrained eye could have been love songs about Andrew, but Andrew knew that it was only Neil’s way of showing his appreciation for their friendship.
In return, Andrew wrote to Neil about his plays and movies; the drama that always unfolded between his castmates, and the thrill of a packed house on opening night. Secretly, Andrew always hoped that Neil would appear at one of his shows, ready to whisk him off the stage after the final bows, declaring his undying love and loyalty to Andrew. If Andrew read a lot of romance novels in his spare time, no one had to know.
Neil never made an appearance. From all Andrew could gather, Neil seemed perfectly happy in his mountain rehab facility. The one time the letters dwindled was during Andrew’s first relationship, Roland. Roland was a fellow actor, hoping to land the sweet gig of leading man in basic romcoms. He was handsome, funny, and didn’t mind Andrew’s no touching rules. When Andrew had written to Neil about Roland, he wasn’t sure what to expect. However, not receiving letters for eight weeks was not part of it. By the time Neil finally wrote back, weakly congratulating Andrew about his relationship, he and Roland had called it quits. He wrote a letter back to Neil explaining the trials of dating another actor, and to his surprise, Neil had written back within the week. Andrew was never sure what to make of that.
When Neil was finally, finally, released, Andrew was waiting at the gates to pick him up. The paparazzi had somehow also gotten wind that it was Neil’s release day, and were lurking in hoards just beyond the property line.
Andrew was leaning back against his car, desperately trying to squash his nerves, when the doors opened and out strode Neil. Andrew’s stomach dropped as he took Neil in. Two years of fresh air, long runs through the mountain trails, and peace and quiet had done Neil very well. His hair was auburn now, and growing in alarming curls that Andrew wanted to sink his fingers into. His legs were long and muscular, clearly the result of the daily runs Neil had written to Andrew about. The one thing that had changed was the broad grin on Neil’s face. Andrew had never seen a smile that honest on Neil’s face before; he hated how it made him feel.
“Were you always a natural redhead,” Andrew drawled, as Neil bounded to his side. The pair dutifully ignored the shouts and flashes from the paparazzi yards away.
“Yes. Were you always this short,” Neil asked, cheekily. Andrew silently glared at him. “I had a growth spurt in rehab,” Neil informed him loftily.
“You grew two inches,” Andrew shot back. “Get in the car before I make you walk back to New York.”
Neil had thrown back his head and cackled. Andrew swallowed hard, and he knew in that moment, that there would be no one who could surpass Neil in his life. He began to make his way around to the driver’s seat, when Neil caught his sleeve between his fingers.
“Andrew,” Neil started, then hesitated.
“Neil,” Andrew returned after a moment.
Neil’s eyes lit up. He moved slowly towards Andrew, “Hug? Yes or no?” Andrew nodded swiftly, but Neil held them apart until Andrew bit out a gruff yes. Andrew tried to ignore the way Neil seemed to melt into his body, like Andrew was the only thing capable of holding him up. “Thank you, for everything,” Neil had whispered, his breath warm against Andrew’s ear.
Andrew had to stop himself from shuddering. He nodded once, his nose brushing Neil’s collarbone, pressed against the other so closely he could not tell the difference between their heartbeats. Neil released him after a few beats, and gave him a wild grin. “I’ve never been on a road trip before.”
Andrew rolled his eyes fondly, and headed to his seat. Neil threw himself into the car and the pair had spent the next several days driving back to New York. When they arrived, much to Andrew’s hidden delight, Neil had bought an apartment only a five minute walk away from Andrew’s. When he had questioned Neil, Neil had only shrugged and said, “I just wanted to be close.”
The next five years had been nothing but album and movie releases, press tours, stadium tours, stage rehearsals, and then performances. Talk shows and interviews, galas, award shows, and recording studios. And at the core of it all, Andrew and Neil. Together again. The press had a field day; they went from the bromance of the century, to secret lovers, to bitter rivals only to start over again. Neither of them publicly commented on it.
Neil never dated. There were definitely rumors; tour members, backup dancers or singers, or even the occasional actress or actor. Anytime one of their friends brought it up to tease Neil, he would just stare blankly. Why would I want that with them? Neil would always question. He only went to events with Andrew, or went alone if Andrew was busy. Andrew couldn’t bring himself to actively find dates, why would he when Neil was willing to go instead? Aaron said he needed to stop torturing himself. After a drunken ramble to Kevin, Kevin said he needed to confess. Andrew refused both of their advice. What he and Neil had was fine . He wouldn’t risk it for anything.
Kevin’s ringtone startled him from his thoughts. He glanced at Renee, who was putting the finishing touches on his hair. She gave him a quick nod, and he stood up to grab his phone off his bed.
“Day,” Andrew stated.
“Is Neil going tonight,” Kevin demanded.
Andrew rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yes, Kevin. Neil will be there. It’s one of his charities.”
“Sometimes he doesn’t go if you don’t go,” Kevin protested. “And besides, I need to talk to him about his next album.”
“He just finished a world tour, leave him alone,” Andrew made his way over to his suit. Renee had discreetly left the room to allow him to change. She would come back after a few moments to do last minute touch ups.
“The most recent demos he showed me won’t work on a tour, Andrew. We need to talk about new themes. He needs to focus.” Andrew shot his phone an incredulous look, glad that no one was there to see the disgust on his face. Over the past few weeks, Neil had written about twenty new songs. All had been personal favorites of Andrew’s. Quiet guitars and pianos, a few stringed instruments here and there. Neil had claimed he was experimenting, and Andrew had spent many nights pouring over lyrics with him. He and Neil had made up scenario after scenario, and then Neil had written song after song about the imaginary worlds that the pair had created.
“Goodbye, Kevin,” Andrew bit out, hanging up and tossing his phone back to the bed. Renee knocked gently at the door, entering after Andrew gave the all clear.
“I take it Kevin is well,” Renee asked, hands hovering over Andrew’s cufflinks. He nodded his permission and Renee began buttoning the cuffs.
“Kevin is Kevin,” Andrew huffed.
Renee grinned. “Then I’m sure it will be lovely to see him tonight.” Andrew scowled at her and she laughed quietly. “Your car is here,” Renee said, straightening Andrew’s tie.
“Great,” Andrew sighed. He grabbed his phone and shot Neil a quick text. “Thanks for this,” he muttered, gesturing at his face. Renee hummed at him, replying to a text on her phone.
“Allison says to tell you to thank her later,” she said mysteriously. Andrew shot her a look as they made their way to his front door.
“Neil’s publicist wants me to thank her later,” Andrew repeated drily.
“That’s all I know,” Renee said sweetly. She and Andrew stared at each other. Andrew lost their staring contest, as usual.
“I know you’re lying to me,” he said, stopping just inside his foyer.
Renee placed her hand on the doorknob, “I would never lie to you. Are you ready?”
Andrew took a breath, grounding himself. He nodded quickly and Renee swept the door open. Andrew stepped out on his doorstep and the world erupted into chaos. The paparazzi and his fans lined the pathway to his car; luckily, his security kept them back a manageable distance.
Andrew made his way slowly down the steps, turning every few moments to a new angle for the cameras. He glared at the reporters who yelled demands or probing questions at him. He stared blankly for the fans who held posters or phones aloft, filming his every move. After a minute or so, he briskly made his way into the car and slammed the door shut.
Sitting silently in the backseat of the car, Andrew took a few moments to gather his thoughts. The events themselves weren’t too terrible. The expensive alcohol and food usually more than made up for the fact that he had to interact with vapid people. He had never been a fan of the paparazzi screaming at him. Asking invasive questions and yelling demands at him that Andrew was supposed to just ignore. He took some deep breaths as the car pulled up to Neil’s apartment.
Neil’s street was just as crowded as Andrew’s, if not more. Neil was a bit more pleasant to deal with, according to most media sites. At least he smiled, the websites often joked. Only Andrew knew Neil’s real smile, softer and it made his eyes crinkle. Neil didn’t smile like that for the media, only for Andrew.
Andrew kept his eyes on Neil’s front door and sent him a simple text: Here. Neil’s front door immediately opened, Neil stepped out, and Andrew promptly forgot how to breathe. Neil was in one of the most gorgeous suits Andrew had ever seen him wear. The suit was a light blue that Andrew knew in his gut was going to make Neil’s icy eyes stand out even more against his tan skin. The dress shirt was sparkly and unbuttoned dangerously low on Neil’s chest. The shirt sparkled and refracted light from all the camera flashes as Neil grinned and slowly made his way down the steps. Neil put one hand in his pocket and pushed the suit jacket out to reveal that he was wearing white suspenders.
Andrew was going to throw himself into traffic. Neil had never looked this good in any suit he had worn. They all were usually a half size too big, per Neil’s request. After a childhood of being shoved into tight pants and tighter shirts, Neil had finally had enough and demanded bigger suits. This suit did not hide much. The pants stretched across Neil’s thighs and Andrew’s brain traitorously whispered about how good Neil’s ass would probably look as well. The shirt was cut tight across Neil’s chest, with the suspenders running solid lines down his torso. His curls were also tamed, for once, gelled off his face, clearing his beaming smile for all his fans to see. Andrew wanted to shove Neil back inside and peel him out of that suit. Maybe with his teeth.
Immediately, Andrew began shoving his lust down; Neil was clearly trying something new and he looked confident and happy doing it. Like hell Andrew was going to ruin this by leering at his best friend. Neil finally decided that he had posed for enough photos and with one last wave, he dashed for the car and slid in next to Andrew.
“Hi,” Neil greeted him breathlessly. Someone had put eyeliner on Neil and made his eyes look bigger and bluer, somehow. Andrew grunted a greeting in return, trying to get his head on straight, and Neil grinned happily at him. “Ready for round two of this when we get there?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Andrew sighed, dramatically. Neil scoffed at him, and the car fell into a companionable silence. Then, Neil started fidgeting. Andrew looked at him from the corner of his eye, only to find Neil already staring at him. Andrew turned to give Neil his full attention and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you,” Neil hesitated, “What do you think of my suit?” Andrew had many thoughts about Neil’s suit. Mainly how good it would look on his floor or rumpled down at the bottom of his bed, or unbuttoned and shoved down around Neil’s torso and legs or - he had to stop.
Andrew flicked his eyes up and down Neil’s outfit, pretending to think. “It’s nice,” he finally decided.
Neil’s eye twitched. “Nice?”
Andrew nodded, not trusting himself to say another word.
Neil seemed to shrink a little bit, and suddenly, the silence in the car was oppressive. The car pulled up to the venue and Andrew stepped out. He let the cameras take a few photos of him alone, then he reached back into the car to help Neil out. Neil gracefully exited the car, a fake megawatt smile plastered on his face, and began waving to the fans who lined the red carpet.
Andrew swallowed uncomfortably. He hadn’t seen that fake smile on Neil’s face in years. Neil usually enjoyed their red carpet entrances at least a little bit. This time, all of Neil’s walls were up as they made their way down. Andrew thought furiously; Neil must have really wanted his approval on the suit. He always seemed to value Andrew’s opinions more than anyone else’s.
Clearing his throat, Andrew murmured, “Neil, your suit-” Neil’s head whipped towards Andrew, but before he could get another word out, a reporter screamed at them.
“Andrew! Neil! When are you finally going to confirm your relationship?”
Andrew felt Neil tense up, so he threw his middle finger at the reporter, receiving some laughter and hustled Neil into the venue.
“They shouldn’t yell things like that at you, Neil. I can have him barred from future events,” Andrew stated firmly, guiding Neil to the bottom of the lobby’s stairs. Neil met Andrew’s eyes blankly, and said nothing. Andrew stared back at Neil, trying to decipher any clues from Neil’s glacier colored eyes. Usually, he could read Neil so easily, but tonight it felt like they were miles apart.
“Is it so terrible, that they assume we’re together,” Neil finally asked, his voice betraying nothing.
Andrew’s stomach plummeted, and he felt his jaw tense. He opened his mouth to demand a further explanation, maybe shove Neil into a nearby coat room until the redhead explained himself further, but out of nowhere, Kevin.
“Neil, you’re already fifteen minutes behind schedule,” Kevin said, seemingly dropping out of the sky.
“Fuck off, Day,” Andrew snapped at him.
“No, it’s fine. Tell me where to go, Kevin,” Neil said, turning to head into the event. Kevin met Andrew’s eyes with shock; Neil never agreed with Kevin over Andrew. Not even the one time Kevin had said that Andrew’s Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino with five pumps of vanilla was too sweet. Neil had slurped some of it up and called Kevin a coward for not trying it.
Kevin, however, was not going to waste his one shot. So, he hurried Neil towards the stage to make introductions and to give him his guitar for the few songs he was going to perform. Andrew was left standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching Neil walk away. Neil’s ass did look perfect in the suit, but he forced himself to look at the stairs instead.
The rest of the night was nothing short of one of Andrew’s worst nightmares. Neil barely acknowledged him, and the several times Andrew caught Neil looking at him, he looked despondent.
“Christ, Minyard,” Matt Boyd whispered to him during one of Neil’s performances, a sad love song that Andrew knew Neil made up for fun, and was not at all based on actual heartbreak. “What did you do to him?”
Andrew could only ignore him, and try not to drool over Neil’s exposed forearms. He had taken off the suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to play the guitar and Andrew thought he could maybe get behind the rabid fans that screamed at Neil’s feet during his concerts.
By the end of the night, Andrew was standing at the bar alone, nursing another whiskey, as he waited for Neil to wrap up. Neil finally made his way over to him around 2am. Neil looked gorgeous, walking towards him in that stupid suit. Andrew hated him. Rumpled and tousled after a night of mingling with people to drum up more donations. His suspenders were hanging loose around his hips at this point, and his shirt was exposing more of his chest than Andrew had ever seen in public.
All Andrew had wanted all night, since that stupid comment after the red carpet, was to get Neil alone. Get Neil alone in that god awful suit and demand an explanation from him. Would it be so bad if we were together? No, it fucking would not. Now could Andrew take him home and rip off that suit?
“Ready,” Andrew asked, stepping towards the exit.
“Actually, you go on ahead,” Neil said, calmly. “I think I’m going to go to the studio.”
Andrew looked at Neil, feeling surprise rise through his chest, “You’re going to go write a song? Now?”
Neil shrugged, “I guess I struck some inspiration. Goodnight, Andrew. I’ll text you soon.” He turned around and walked away, soon flanked by Kevin, who was whispering fervently in Neil’s ear. Neil didn’t look back at Andrew once.
Andrew felt himself turn robotically and head in the opposite direction. He barely remembered the drive home; Neil had never dismissed him like that. Neil had never treated him like everyone else; Neil had always treated Andrew as if he was someone. Andrew stumbled into his apartment, mechanically stripping off his suit and letting the pieces lay where they fell.
He crawled into bed and furiously willed his throat to stop tightening. Somewhere around six in the morning, Andrew fell into a fitful sleep.
He woke up sometime mid afternoon, to his phone chiming at him incessantly. He opened it up, only to sit up immediately. Neil Josten has tweeted.
@neil_josten : Dropping my new surprise single, “Suit” tonight at midnight.
Attached was a picture of Neil in his recording studio, sitting in his usual writing armchair, legs skewed and that damned blue suit looking disheveled. Neil’s hair was standing up in ridiculous tufts, like he, or someone else, had been running fingers through it all night. Neil stared defiantly at the camera, as if he was daring the viewer to come and touch him. And Andrew wanted to touch him.
Andrew immediately checked his texts; Neil almost always texted him while writing songs, bouncing ideas off Andrew or just needing someone to listen to his rambles. There was nothing. His last text to Neil was still just Here. Calling him to the car for that disastrous evening.
He called Neil. No response. He was probably still asleep, honestly. If he was up all night writing a new song, then producing it with Kevin to ensure that it was ready to go in less than 24 hours; Neil would probably sleep until eight in the evening. Then he would be doing promotions for the single until it dropped, then he would be free to talk about last night. Andrew scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling the greasy product from last night. He grimaced and made his way to the shower. He would just have to wait to talk to Neil later tonight. He could make it.
—
Andrew was not going to make it. Neil had posted two more provocative shots of himself in the suit on social media to promote the song. One had Neil with one leg thrown carelessly over one of the arms of the chair, the other firmly planted on the rug in front of him. One of his hands toyed with the buttons on his shirt, the other fingered a lipstick stain on his cheek. Allison , Andrew thought angrily. Neil’s publicist sometimes went with him to produce songs, when Andrew couldn’t. Andrew swallowed angrily, pacing in front of his open laptop, Spotify pulled up and on Neil’s profile.
The next shot was taken staring down at Neil from above the back of the chair. Neil stared up into the camera, blue eyes wide and open. The photo exposed part of his collarbones and chest. He had a pen dangling out of the corner of his mouth and a notebook in his lap. Andrew hated this photo. He had seen Neil in this exact position countless of times. Peering over Neil’s shoulder while the other scribbled lyrics furiously. Andrew pointing out mistakes or ways to improve, until Neil would look up at him, in the exact position that the photo was taken.
Neil clearly wanted Andrew’s attention and he had it, but Neil had always had Andrew’s attention. No one had ever come close as Neil. Not Roland, or the handful of other hookups Andrew had toyed with over the years. The answer was just out of reach and it was driving Andrew crazy.
There was a minute left to midnight when Neil texted. Are you going to listen?
Yes. Andrew replied.
Good. Then, You need to hear it.
What the fuck did that mean? Andrew puzzled over it, until he glanced up and realized, it was time. The song was up. Andrew hit play.
“Our secret moments, in a crowded room, They've got no idea about me and you
There is an indentation in the shape of you. Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo ,” Neil’s voice crooned out of Andrew’s laptop. Andrew couldn’t breathe. Had Neil finally written an actual love song? Who had he met? Who was the song about?
The beat kicked in and Neil kept going, “All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation. My hands are shaking from holding back from you, ” he made three quick breathy noises that had Andrew’s mouth drying up.
“All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, My hands are shaking from holding back from all this,” Neil made a handful of noises that Andrew could only describe as moans. Andrew could feel his ears and cheeks burning.
“Say my name and everything just stops, I don't want you like a best friend, Only bought this suit so you could take it off, Take it off, ” Neil kept making those quick, breathy moans and Andrew truly thought he was going to die. How many times had he dreamt of wringing those types of noises out of Neil?
“Carve your name into my bedpost, 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend, Only bought this suit so you could take it off, Take it-” Andrew slammed his laptop shut, cutting off Neil’s moans. He stared in shock at his laptop, frozen. For the first time in his life, Andrew dreaded having to listen to the rest of one of Neil’s songs. Clearly, Neil had met someone, and it had not gone well at the event last night. If the pent up sexual tension Neil was singing about was anything to go by.
Maybe it was Kevin , Andrew’s mind whispered insidiously. Kevin was the only other person Neil would consider to be a best friend besides Andrew. And it couldn’t be Andrew because wouldn’t Neil have said something before this? It could even be a new friendship, with someone you don’t even know , Andrew’s thoughts helpfully supplied.
Andrew numbly sank into his couch. It could be about someone he didn’t even know. Neil was a notorious secret keeper. Not usually from Andrew, but anyone could be an exception. Andrew was going to need to leave the country when this person was revealed. He would not survive watching Neil’s new relationship. Maybe he could ask Wymack if there were any stage productions he could audition for in London. That was far enough away. He would just stay off social media, and avoid any new songs Neil would most likely write about this new person. He could already tell this one was going to be everywhere.
Andrew wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the couch, trying to calm the emotions inside his chest; when out of nowhere, he heard someone pounding on his front door. He froze. People who made it onto his floor of the building had a key; Bee, Aaron, Kevin, Renee, Wymack, and, of course, Neil. Half of those people walked in unannounced, and the other half were civilized and waited to be invited inside. Andrew knew for a fact that Bee, Renee, and Wymack were not awake at this hour.
He pushed himself off the couch and made his way silently to his door; much to his dismay, Neil was shifting impatiently on his doorstep. Andrew took a breath and steeled himself, opening the door suddenly, startling Neil into stillness.
For a split second, the pair stared at each other. Neil broke the silence first, as he usually did.
“Well?”
“Well, what,” Andrew repeated. If Neil wanted to hash out his new found horniness about some other person, Andrew was not going to make it easy for him.
Neil stared at him in confusion, suspicion suddenly clouding his expression. “You didn’t finish the song,” he accused Andrew, incredulously. Andrew had always finished Neil’s songs, even when they were dumb, rambling songs about their cats being best friends, or something equally nonsensical.
Andrew felt the urge to protest grow in his chest, but he smothered it down. Neil didn’t deserve a lie. He shook his head and Neil sighed, loud and exasperated. “How far did you get,” he gestured into Andrew’s apartment, and Andrew sarcastically swept the door open and invited him in. Neil eyed him angrily and stomped over to Andrew’s laptop. He ripped it open and plugged in Andrew’s password without skipping a beat. Andrew made a mental note to change all his passwords after Neil left.
Neil hovered the mouse over the play button on the song. “Andrew,” Neil said quietly. “I think you need to hear the entire song. Then, you can tell me what to do.” Andrew walked over and sat down opposite Neil. If Neil was so determined to share this new part of his life with Andrew, then so be it. Andrew could handle this. He nodded yes at Neil, and the redhead hit play. The pair listened as Neil’s breathy noises continued for a moment. Andrew could not handle this. His ears were already burning.
Neil looked smug.
“What,” demanded Andrew, feeling trapped and desperate to be anywhere but here.
“Listen,” Neil said, calmly, pointing at the laptop, and settling himself into his corner of the couch.
“Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try, And if I get burned, at least we were electrified. I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk, Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about,” Andrew’s head shot up and he locked eyes with Neil.
“That’s us,” Andrew blurted out, without thinking, possibly for the first time in his life. Neil nodded in confirmation at him.
“It’s us,” he said softly, looking down at his lap. Neil’s first, and only, well, as far as Andrew knew, kiss had happened a few months ago. Neil was taking a salt bath to soothe his scars and he and Andrew had been making fun of a bottle of wine some producer had sent Andrew. It had somehow been sweet and tangy all at once, and, despite the fact that they both found it disgusting, they had been steadily drinking it all night.
Andrew remembered standing up from his place on the bathroom floor, his back to Neil’s stupidly ornate bathtub, to try to find something to snack on. He wobbled a little bit and steadied himself on the sink. “Don’t drown,” he had told Neil, hand on the doorknob, plans to raid Neil’s freezer for his ice cream stash already in place.
“What if I do,” Neil had said, delightedly. “You know, I’ll die without ever being kissed.” He hiccupped. “That’s the shit people write songs about.”
Andrew had turned back to Neil, his auburn hair plastered very unattractively to his forehead. “I can kiss you,” he said, the thought spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He was drunker than he thought.
Neil had nodded agreeably, “Yes, alright. Then I can drown in peace.”
Andrew’s lips had twitched in a smile and Neil beamed at him. Andrew knelt by the bathtub and Neil leaned eagerly in, only to be pushed back by Andrew’s hand. “I am only going to kiss you here,” Andrew informed him, poking his cheek where several of his scars crossed. “Because we are both too drunk otherwise. Do not try to touch me anywhere right now.” Neil nodded solemnly, agreeing wordlessly to Andrew’s terms, and lifted his cheek in presentation. Andrew had tentatively, gently as he possibly could, pressed his lips to Neil’s cheek. It was warm and damp from Neil’s bath. His cheek tasted a little salty from the bathwater, and Andrew caught himself wondering if the rest of Neil’s skin tasted the same.
He had pushed himself away, listened to Neil hum happily and then announced, “Now I can drown in peace.” Followed by a clatter, and a yelp from Neil, who had just dropped the entire bottle of wine in the bathtub. It had quickly become one of Andrew’s fondest memories of Neil.
“Is this song about us,” he asked, quietly, trying his best not to sound desperate.
“No, this song is about you,” Neil corrected. “How you make me feel.” He took a breath, “What I wish would have happened last night. After the charity event,” he clarified.
Neil’s breathy moans were coming out of the computer again, and while Neil didn’t seem fazed, Andrew felt his cheeks growing a bit red. Neil grinned slyly at him. Andrew scoffed, “Is this the only way you thought you could get my attention,” he demanded peevishly.
Neil shot him a look, “Well, the suit was my first plan, and clearly, that didn’t work.”
“Oh no,” Andrew told him angrily. “That stupid suit worked very well.” Neil looked pleased.
“Flashback when you met me, Your buzzcut and my hair bleached, Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me. Flashback to my mistakes, My rebounds, my earthquakes, Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth of me,” Andrew felt his throat tighten, and his eyes darted to Neil’s. Neil watched him steadily; every last doubt he had about the song’s subject vanished.
“And I woke up just in time, Wanna wake up by your side, My one and only, my lifeline-” Andrew hit pause. “Why now? Why me,” he questioned. Neil looked at him incredulously.
“Andrew, how could there be anyone else, but you?”
There was too much happening in Andrew’s chest. He pushed himself off the couch angrily and stormed over to the window. He needed space to breathe, to think. Neil followed him with his eyes, staring fixedly at Andrew. “Neil,” Andrew started, and stopped. “I’ve-,” he stopped himself again. He gestured frustratedly, “How long,” he finally settled on.
Neil exhaled slowly, “About half a year ago, I realized that my feelings towards you were,” he paused, pink blossoming across his cheekbones delicately. “Changing,” he coughed. Andrew made a mental note to ask about that later. “You know I don’t, didn’t , swing for anyone,” Neil continued. “But suddenly, I just started thinking about you, like that,” Neil finished lamely.
Andrew raised an eyebrow incredulously, and Neil huffed, “What do you want specifics?”
“Could be nice to hear,” Andrew mocked, leaning against the window seat. If this was finally, finally , happening, he was going to make Neil say it outloud. No chance for misunderstandings or miscommunications.
“Andrew, everytime I wrote a love song, do you know what I did,” Neil asked. Andrew stared at him blankly, waiting for Neil to continue. “I thought about you,” Neil said, exasperatedly. “I thought about you and how much I cared for you and how safe you made me feel. I would take those feelings you inspired in me and would just write about them,” he made eye contact with Andrew, “in painstaking detail.” Andrew felt his heart beating quicker. “I only, very recently, found out that it probably meant I was in love with you.” Neil’s head dropped down and he muttered, “Because apparently that is not how other people write songs.”
Andrew almost didn’t trust himself to speak. Words were failing him and the moment felt too delicate to touch.
Neil sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, “I was writing a few more,” he winced, “explicit songs, when Kevin finally told me that I either needed to confess or move on because he was tired of listening to my songs about you.” Andrew tried to swallow, but his throat seemed to be very dry all of a sudden.
“Explicit,” he questioned.
Neil flushed, but his eyes quickly flicked up and down Andrew’s form before he nodded. “I can play you the other songs later,” he swallowed, “but I won’t release them without your permission.”
Andrew felt a thrill curl in his stomach. Neil had written explicit songs about him that were detailed enough that people would know who they were about. “Andrew,” Neil said, calling his attention back to where Neil sat across the room, still minding Andrew’s space and boundaries. Andrew noticed Neil’s hands were shaking, just a bit, and when the redhead saw Andrew watching, he shoved his hands under his thighs. My hands are shaking from holding back from you , Andrew’s mind traitorously supplied, along with the tiny moans from the song.
“What do you want from me,” Andrew asked, trying to not sound as breathless as he felt.
“Anything you want to give me,” Neil responded immediately, without hesitation.
Andrew took a few heavy steps forward, “And what if I want nothing?”
Neil’s eyes lit up, and he sat up straighter, “You always say I could be nothing. I could be your nothing.”
Andrew felt his heart beginning to race, as he made his way to stand in front of Neil. He lifted up his hands slowly, holding them inches from Neil’s cheeks, waiting for a murmured yes , before cupping Neil’s face in his palms. Neil’s eyes fluttered closed, a content smile on his face. He pressed his face into Andrew’s palms, and Andrew rubbed his thumbs gently under Neil’s eyes.
“Neil,” Andrew said quietly, waiting for those cool eyes to open and meet his again. “You could never be my nothing because you are everything.” He swallowed hard around the words; he talked for a living, but those were by far the hardest words he had ever had to say. The most difficult speech, to his audience of one.
Neil’s face split open in a wide grin, “Andrew Minyard, I’m going to use that in a song.”
Andrew pressed his forehead against Neil’s, “Not unless I get songwriting credits, you menace.” He took a breath and then whispered into the air between them, “Yes or no?”
He felt, rather than heard, Neil’s small and sharp inhale. “Yes,” Neil whispered back, and Andrew closed the distance between them. He pressed his lips against Neil’s and felt his stomach drop as Neil pressed eagerly back against him. Andrew felt himself sinking into the kiss, and he let his hands trail up into Neil’s hair. His lips moved over Neil’s as he twisted the curly strands between his fingers. The tip of Neil’s tongue tentatively brushed over Andrew’s bottom lip, and Andrew responded by biting into Neil’s mouth.
Neil groaned in excitement as Andrew’s teeth grazed his bottom lip, and Andrew was instantly reminded again of the breathy moans from the song. He broke away, breathing too quickly, and was pleased to see Neil’s eyes glazed over.
“Neil,” Andrew said, tugging gently on the short hairs on the back of Neil’s head. Neil let out a small whimper, and a shock of arousal went shooting down Andrew’s spine. “Neil,” Andrew stated again, firmer this time. Neil looked up at him, blue eyes looking sated and content, blinking opened and closed slowly. I did that, a sharp thought rang through Andrew’s mind. “How much sleep did you get?”
“Hmm,” Neil hummed questioningly, clearly not listening to Andrew. His head was tilted slightly, and he seemed more concerned with chasing the feeling of Andrew’s fingers, still tracing circles through his hair. Andrew stopped moving his fingers, and tapped Neil’s head a bit impatiently. Neil’s eyes cracked open, in what Andrew could only describe as a pout. Andrew refused to give in. No matter how adorable Neil looked.
“When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep,” he questioned.
Neil sighed, as if Andrew’s care about his health was a burden. “Before the gala,” he said finally. Andrew stepped back, pulling Neil with him, back towards his bedroom. Neil followed him gamely, fingers gently holding on to Andrew’s sleeve. Andrew herded Neil into his bedroom, hovering close as he got them both ready to sleep. Neil suddenly looked dead on his feet, and Andrew wondered if he had actually slept at all since the gala.
Finally, teeth brushed, and Neil in Andrew’s clothes, something Andrew planned on investigating thoroughly later , the pair crawled into Andrew’s bed. Andrew had his back to the wall and watched as Neil fought sleep to stare at Andrew. Neil slowly slid his hand across the gap, and silently offered it to Andrew.
“90% of the time, I hate you,” Andrew said lowly in the dark. Neil grinned lazily at him. Andrew reached out and tangled his fingers in Neil’s and listened to Neil sigh happily.
“I’m going to write so many songs about you, Drew,” Neil said quietly. Andrew felt himself flush and his throat tightened dangerously. He slowly shifted closer to Neil, and waited for Neil’s yes, and pressed their foreheads together.
“Sleep now,” he murmured. Neil burrowed down into Andrew’s sheets, and Andrew listened as his breaths slowly evened out.