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Andrew's manic smile gave Neil a familiar grounding, but not as much as the cigarette burning between his fingers. Like always, the acidulous scent of the stick gave him more comfort than anything else surrounding him. The past somehow gave him more solace than the future that awaited him. His mother, as rough-edged as she was— was grounding, the thought of her was amicable and somehow less painless than leaving Exy behind— for good— in May.
“Is Neil thinking too hard once more?” Andrew’s lips cracked up in a wider grin, “what could it be about now?”
Neil glanced at him in silence, pausing his running thoughts, and looked over his drug induced expression with careful watch, then shrugged half-heartedly after a minute of just heartbeats.
“Nothing.”
“Oooh nothing? Now we both know that's not true. Why don’t you practice some more honesty, Neil? It would be visceral.”
Neil had no plans in being truthful, or to have some heart-to-heart conversation about the wondering he constantly had about his mother and the smoke she had dissipated to in his life. He had to be reliant in only himself, not anyone else, even if Andrew had promised safety and a place to stay— signed with an official key.
“Like I said, nothing.”
“Why are you wasting a good cigarette, then?” Andrew mused, ignoring anything Neil did to divert the conversation. “Certainly not for no reason.”
Neil took in a silent breath, the cigarette smoke lost its place of confidentiality the more Andrew was with him, it didn’t make an ample enough of sense now, Neil didn’t understand himself anymore. He flicked the ash off the edge of the bud and pulled his knees closer to his chest.
“It’s not unfamiliar.” Neil said more dully than he wanted to, “I like the smell,” he admitted quietly.
Andrew tilted his head over, partially amused with his words, “nevermind, honesty looks rough on you.” He said, but continued, “but go on, I’d like to know more.”
“I’m not a book.” Neil replied dryly, “don’t think you can read me like one.” He gazed back up to the evening sky with no exact direction. He couldn’t count the stars; he had tried countless times before on the run. With Mary. He always ended up sleeping before long. It was his version of counting sheep.
Neil couldn’t do it now, since he slept in a dorm. But Neil remembered those many sleepless nights when he counted the stars and prayed to get through the night and live the next day. If he could, he would run through the night and day, and get away, stay away. Never look back. Never stay. Never be the same. And forget who he was.
“If you were a book, you’d be a beginner’s guide.” Andrew flicked Neil on the sleeve of his jacket to get his attention back, Neil turned his head with a scowl.
“Beginner’s guide to what exactly?” Neil questioned steeply.
“Running.” Andrew pungently leaned back on his haunches, “you’re good at it, only fitting.”
Neil snorted, and looked away in spite— and cerebrated on if he could run now, though it wouldn’t do anything much. He wouldn’t be running away from the Foxes— not yet at least. “You're hysterical.”
“Is that positive or negative?” Andrew asked, enraptured.
“Are you entertained already?” Neil countered.
“No. Tell me more about the cigarette.” Andrew rested his head on his fist, considering Neil from his side profile. Neil sent him an incredulous look, dusting more ash off his shortening cigarette.
“You want honesty?” Neil questioned.
“Always and more.” Andrew replied.
Neil deliberated over that undeterminable answer and huffed, twirling the cigarette over and over in his fingers.
“My mother would smoke. Before putting me to bed,” Neil began, “before both my parents were executed.” He looked back to the sky.
“The smell reminds me of her.” Neil said.
It was a half-truth, but it was almost as painful as the real reason. It hurt, and Neil then knew if he had told the actual story it would be even worse to feel. So he thanked himself for that decision all those weeks ago.
Andrew deliberated over that, “oh, so your mother was the smoker then.” He sighed. Looking back up to the sky idly.
“Finding comfort in the most self-destructive things. How Neil of you.” Andrew flicked his black bands over his arms. Neil wanted to roll his eyes, but he refrained from doing so, instead he tossed the finished cigarette to the ground and wedged it into the cement with his foot. Grounding it into smashed bits.
Andrew eyed his movements, then snorted. “Do you think she'd be proud?”
Neil raised his head. He already thought it— no— if she were alive at the moment— he'd be black and blue all around. She'd make sure Exy wasn't a thought.
“No. Would yours?” Neil asked, then frowned. Andrew leaned over with one finger up; he nudged Neil’s wrist with that finger then sent him a tilted smile.
“My mother? Mother… hmm.” Andrew mocked even considering the question, looking far too cynical. “I don't believe in those.” He muttered.
Neil scoffed, “of course.” He put his arms over his knees and leaned forward, staring out as the sun set. “Why do I even ask?”
Andrew cocked his head at him and shifted, “I don’t have a mother.” He stated blankly, “not one I revere anyways.” Andrew sighed, partially dramatic, the other half was exhaustion.
“Tell me about her.” Neil asked, all too sudden. He clamped his mouth shut— and opted to just glare at the ground beneath him. “Forget that.”
“She didn't want me.” Andrew stated, twirling a strand of Neil’s hair around his finger, “she chose Aaron.” He said, “and somehow— for one reason or another— I thank her for that at the least.” Andrew slapped the side of his leg.
Neil watched him and didn’t understand, “why?”
“You're asking too many questions for one man.” Andrew coyly tugged on that strand of hair, “but let me ask you this— would you want your sibling to be a lamb to the slaughter if you could prevent it?”
Neil didn't have any siblings— and he was pretty sure his father wouldn't want any more kids running him around in circles. But he was pretty sure he didn't want another kid to end up or take his place— no one deserved the misfortune his life wrought. No one deserved to wonder if they would make it to the next day, or if they would die before they saw the sun on the horizon.
“No.” Neil replied, “it would be tragic.”
“Exactly, you're quite good at this for someone family-less.” Andrew let go of his hair with ease. Neil scowled at him, “poor attempt at humor.”
“I'm hilarious.” Andrew said.
“You're hysterical is what.” Neil said.
Andrew studied him, “I think those words are the same.”
Neil stared at him dully, “seriously?”
“I don't think she knew what she was getting into. I have a feeling your mother did know when she had you. Do you think she knew you would be running?” Andrew asked.
Neil already knew what to say, the truth.
“Yes, she would, that’s one of the last things she told me to do. Run. Never stop. Never look back.” Neil lit another cigarette and watched it burn. The tiny burn was the color of red and orange, it reminded him of the car. Burning in flame and smoke with his mother inside. Her death rattled the air Neil breathed, and he choked on the smoke rising from the cigarette.
Her bones were buried in California, and Neil would let them stay there.
But he felt terrible. His mother would never know peace— she would always know running was the best thing to do. She taught Neil that. She shook that into him many times. She would never see Neil— and Neil would never see her.
“Don't get too close.” Andrew warned, unhelpfully. And Neil ignored him.
“Where's Kevin?” Neil asked.
“He's brooding over your performance today.” Andrew draped his arms over his knees. “He'll get over it in a few.”
Neil huffed, “when is he not brooding?”
Silence ensued once more, but it was quickly cut off because Andrew had more to say.
“Neil, if I could get inside your head and know what you thought, I would have a screwdriver ready.”
“You don’t want to know about anything I’m thinking.”
Neil turned his head and made no more remarks quite yet. His mind was still trying to decipher what that meant. Andrew wanted to know his secrets—the things Neil would never tell to anyone? Or did he simply want to know what Neil was thinking of in this very moment— which was all and nothing at the same time. Did he want to know more about Neil to help? Or to hold above his head?
Neil didn’t know, but he wanted to find out. Yet Neil also knew that he didn’t really want to know any way. Maybe keeping the motive of Andrew’s statement a silent question would help Neil stay on track. He had dabbled in his teammates' lives— their history— what Exy meant to them. He didn’t want to get inside their minds— and he didn’t want them inside his own.
Especially not Andrew. Andrew could keep his word. But would he keep his word when he found out who Neil really was? Would Andrew let him run after finding out Neil was a liability— burden? The son of a ruthless mafia lord, who would destroy anything in his path to get to Neil. Would Andrew let him go then? Or would he force him to stand in the wrath of his father?
Would Nathan allow that to happen? Or would he simply finish the job?
Neil had failed to run; he had failed to let go of Exy like his mother had told him to do. He failed terribly.
“Yes, I do.” Andrew said.
“You what?” Neil replied.
“I want to know what’s inside of your head. I want to know because you say nothing else but the basics, you’re still keeping things. You’re still telling lies. I want something real— tangible— not the things you’re fabricating to keep the truth hidden.”
Neil’s breath got caught up in his throat, “what more do you want? I’ve told you the truth. I’ve told you who I am.”
“I want to know if you’re real, tell me you’re real, Neil,” Andrew was demanding, his eyes trained on Neil. “Tell me something only someone who wasn’t made up would say.”
Neil narrowed his eyes, “I’m real, I'm right here in front of you. Breathing— living— moving. I’m not fake. I’m not fabricated. You hear the words from my mouth; you see the smoke from the cigarette I’m holding. The cigarette you watched me lit then told me to not get too close. You said you wanted real? Well, it’s right here. Right in front of you. I’m Neil Josten, N-E-I-L J-O-S-T-E-N.”
Neil felt like the air around them was freezing his lungs, it blew right into his lungs, it iced his skin. Andrew’s eyes stayed, unwavering.
“Stay like that, then. Stay alive.” Andrew poked his chest.
Neil didn’t know what to say.
“I can’t stay alive forever.”
“You know what I mean.”
Neil closed his eyes and turned back to the sky, it was dark when he opened them, the sun had finally set.
“I do.” He admitted.
Neil couldn’t guarantee his life, he couldn’t guarantee his dreams. He couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be dead by May.
“I’ll stay alive.” Neil promised.
Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t. But maybe staying it outloud would speak it into existence. If he survived his father because of his words, Neil would never stop talking.
The cigarette burned out to the filter, Neil Josten let it. He watched it dwindle away.
“Are you lying again?” Andrew asked.
“No.” Neil said.
“Silly, liar Neil.” Andrew whispered.
Neil let the words sink in before he responded.
“Stupid, medicated Andrew.”
The door opened behind them, that meant Kevin was done cleaning up, Neil and Andrew took one more look at each other before standing.
May would be here before he knew it. Neil wanted to hold on as long as he could.