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jeni182 · 4 years

Text

Unspoken

Andrew Minyard was not good with words.

Actually, scratch that. Andrew Minyard was very good with words. Cutting remarks and biting insults and sarcastic responses. He was very good at all of those. It was the simpler words he had problems with.

Words like love and relationship and trust.

“Hey,” Neil said, knocking Andrew’s shoulder with his own. They were on the roof, as they usually were this time of night. “What are you thinking?”

I’ll miss you when I graduate. I wish you could come with me. I don’t want to lose this.

Instead, Andrew took a long drag of his cigarette. Instead, Andrew shrugged too tight shoulders. Instead, Andrew wrapped a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and brought him in for a cigarette laced kiss. It was the only thing he knew how to say right now.

When he pulled back, Neil was grinning. “Is that what you were thinking?” Andrew shoved him back with a hand to his face and took another drag of his cigarette.

****

“I don’t know how to say words.”

Bee raised a brow at him. “No? I’d say you have a gift with words, Andrew. I’ve never head someone describe things as succinctly and as to the point as you do.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Andrew shook his head. He didn’t even know how to say this to Bee. He sighed and rubbed his face. Played with the edge of an armband. Jiggled a leg. Bee watched him patiently, waiting for him to get his thoughts in order.

“I’m graduating soon.” Bee nodded. “Neil is not.” She nodded again. “I don’t know how to say words.”

“Ah,” Bee said, finally getting it. “You would like to express some things to Neil, but you don’t know how to put them into words. Is that it?”

Andrew gave a tight nod.

He tried to show the words physically. He could feel them, when they were alone, and it was dark, and they were tangled together in sheets with warm breaths and gentle hands. He tried to say so much in those moments, because he couldn’t say it out loud.

A kiss behind Neil’s ear. I want you. A finger lightly trailing a scar. You’re perfect. A hand on a jaw, foreheads touching, breaths mingling. I love you.

Was it enough?

“I’m worried,” Andrew told Bee. “For when I’m gone, and Neil is here. We’ll have to communicate via phone calls and skype and…” Bee waited patiently again. “I just want to be able to say it out loud when we’re not in the same place. I’m worried it’ll be different.” I’m worried he won’t want me anymore.

“Hmmm,” Bee nodded and made a note of something. “Well, there are a lot of other ways for you to say things to him. I think Neil probably knows that speaking your emotions and feelings out loud is not something you claim to be proficient in. And I think he would understand that, even when you’ve left PSU. But let’s talk about some ways you can express what you’re feeling without having to put it into words out loud.”

****

The next night, Andrew had a brand-new journal. The pages were empty. The paper smelled fresh.

He had no idea what he was doing.

This had been the least cringe worthy of Bee’s ideas. ‘Write it down Andrew. You can show him if you’d like, or you can toss it if you’d rather. There’s no pressure.’

He didn’t see how this was any different from texting. He didn’t want to say any of the things he was thinking in a text either.

So, laying in his bunk on his stomach with his journal open in front of him, Andrew tried very hard to push aside the feeling of being a teenage girl and put a pen to the paper.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

What the fuck am I supposed to write.

When is Neil supposed to be back?

Andrew looked at his watch and sighed.

Neil is supposed to be back in an hour. He’s on the court teaching stupid freshman how to put the ball into the goal because they’re all incompetent. I don’t know why he bothers. But I guess that’s just so Neil. He always says, ‘someone had to show me’ and I guess that’s true and he IS an idiot. But not like these idiots.

Andrew tapped the pen on the paper and sighed.

I wish he would come home.

Andrew read what he’d written and slammed the book shut before he could rip it out and tear it to pieces.

****

One weekend, when they were at Eden’s after a game, Andrew lost Neil.

He left to get more drinks and did not make it back to the table. After ten minutes, Andrew left the table to look for him. Roland hadn’t seen him. He wasn’t on the dance floor. He wasn’t in the bathroom. Andrew was very calmly losing his fucking mind.

Where are you, where are you, where are you.

He found him finally, in the back room. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall. His knees were pulled up and his head was buried in his arms. Andrew dropped to the floor next to him and pulled him into his chest.

“What the fuck happened? Where were you?” He felt Neil shudder, and Andrew rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the tension out. Neil looked up and the glow of blue eyes in the dimness made Andrew want to close his own.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. There was…a guy. I don’t know who. He grabbed me and called me Wesninski and I don’t know. I just panicked. I ran back here. I didn’t want to lose it out there and have security throw me out.”

Andrew let out a low growl. “Where?”

“No, just… Don’t worry about it. He’s probably already gone. Can we just leave?” Neil nuzzled his face into Andrew’s neck and Andrew took a deep breath. He nodded, and they left.

That night, when they were in the bed in their room in Columbia, after he’d shown Neil how worried he’d been with his hands and his mouth, Andrew pulled out his journal. Neil was snoring softly next to him, and Andrew ran a hand through his hair. He was rewarded with a soft sigh.

He started writing.

I love that noise. It means he feels safe here, with me. It means he trusts me to take care of him. I would kill that guy that grabbed him. I would kill anyone who made him feel like he had to hide. When I couldn’t find him tonight-

Andrew had to stop to close his eyes and gather his thoughts. To think about how to say this, even to this piece of paper.

-the feeling inside my chest was like a vice. It was squeezing and squeezing and all I could think about was Baltimore. Only it’s worse than Baltimore, because now I’ve had it and now I know what there is to lose. Everything.

****

On the day of Andrew’s graduation, Neil pulled him in for a hug. Andrew did not huff, and he did not pretend it was annoying like he might have done once. Instead he let his head fall into Neil’s neck and breathed in his scent of soap and sweat and Neil.

“I’m proud of you,” Neil said quietly to Andrew’s ear. Andrew did not respond. It was too much.

There was a party in the tower, for Andrew and Aaron and Nicky. There was booze and the Vixens were there and the music was terrible. Andrew didn’t mind so much. He stood with a cup of vodka and watched everyone around him have fun. Neil found him leaning against the wall and came close with a small smile on his lips. He moved until he was leaning against Andrew. Until they were chest to chest and thigh to thigh. He took Andrew’s cup from his hand and set it aside on a nearby table.

“Dance with me?”

“Never.”

Neil tilted his head back and laughed, and Andrew used the opportunity to run a hand up his neck, until it was wrapped loosely around it and his fingers were on Neil’s pulse point. Neil looked back at him and Andrew felt his pulse quicken. Or maybe that was Andrew’s own pulse. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

The next morning, when everyone was still in an alcohol induced sleep, Andrew wrote.

I’m leaving in a week. I’m leaving for Denver and Neil will stay here. Aaron will go to Chicago and Nicky will go to Germany. I am equal parts amazed that we’ve all survived this long and discomfited that after keeping and eye on everyone, it won’t be my responsibility anymore. Neil, though. Neil will always be my responsibility. I still don’t know how to say words. I still don’t know how to tell him what I want to tell him. Maybe I don’t really need to, after all. No, I know I don’t need to. I know he knows. Because no one has ever been able to read me like he has. No one has been able to give me a look that says, ‘I know what you’re not saying, and I feel the same way.’

I still wish I could say it.

****

The night before Andrew had to leave for Denver, they were at the Columbia house. They’d already moved out of the dorms. Already packed all of Andrew’s things. Already found Andrew an apartment.

Neil and Andrew sat outside on the back porch, cigarettes lit and coffee on the step next to them. The summer nights were warm now, bugs chirping and the air a heavy weight on their shoulders, blanketing them in nighttime stillness.

Neil was twitchy.

“Are you going to tell me what your problem is?” Andrew asked, because he couldn’t simply say ‘What’s wrong?’

Neil shrugged. “You leave tomorrow is all. It’ll be a while before we can see each other. It’ll be weird, not having you here.”

Andrew took a long drag. Neil went silent. After a moment, Andrew blew the smoke out in a harsh breath and took up the journal he had sitting beside him. He saw Neil glance over, but he didn’t acknowledge him. Instead he wrote.

It’ll be weird for me, too.

He passed it over to Neil, and Neil smiled a little. He plucked the pen out of Andrew’s hand and wrote back.

I’ll miss you.

Instead of passing it back, he scooted closer to Andrew, moving the coffee out of the way. They sat thigh to thigh and Neil moved the journal so that each of them had half of it resting on their laps. Andrew took back the pen. And so, it went.

I’ll miss you, too.

Will we talk every day?

Every single day.

Will you think of me when you’re in goal?

I will never not be thinking about you.

Will you send me nudes?

Every chance I get.

Neil laughed, and Andrew’s lips twitched.

They both went quiet for a moment, and Andrew took another turn.

I love you.

He heard Neil suck in a small breath and before he had time to wish he could take it back, Neil snatched the pen from his hand.

I love you, too.

#aftg #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #Andreil #forgetmenotaftg #zine #my fics #jeni182

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forgetmenotaftg · 4 years

Photo

by @the-stewari, posted here with permission.

#art #the-stewari #forgetmenotaftg

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 4 years

Text

The Sparrow

Green light filtered through the window. It made the room feel like it was under water, or on some foreign planet. Andrew dropped his arm over his eyes trying to block it out, trying to will himself back to sleep for another hour. Or three. Nobody was counting.

A sharp pip sounded from somewhere outside. A minute passed, and it sounded again. And again. Andrew dropped his arm and glared out into the greenish dawn. A little bird hung from one of the branches of the giant vine that clung to the side of the house. It stared at him, cocking its head to the side, bright eyes considering. Pip!

“You’re an asshole.”

The bird gave a self-satisfied pip and flew off. Bastard. Just what he needed, an alarm clock with a mind of its own.

He yawned and stretched, taking inventory of what hurt. Knees. Left thumb. Right hip. Better than yesterday. He left his cane where it was, leaning against the wall.

Going down the narrow stairs that his physical therapist had assured him were a terrible idea, he entered the tiny kitchen and grumbled at the landscape of boxes he could see stacked in the living room. The coffee maker was the one thing he had set up yesterday, and he listened to the gurgling sounds as the water dripped through while he looked over the boxes. Finding the one labeled Dishes, he dug through and pulled out a bowl and a mug.

He took his meager breakfast out onto the patio. The cracked concrete was shot through with weeds; the abandoned furniture peeling and rusted. The little pipping bird was back to sitting in the vines. He couldn’t figure out why it was there; other than the vines that were assaulting the house and a few coarse weeds, the yard was bare dirt, hard and unwelcoming and littered with junk. It was ugly as hell, but Andrew didn’t really care. All he had to do was lift his head, and the view was spectacular: rolling mountains, the caps slowly baring themselves to the spring sun, the slopes a mix of trees and green expanses that he knew from photographs were covered with flowers. Someday, he’d walk there. Someday, he’d reach the top.

Scoffing at himself, at his stupid impossible dreams, he creaked to his feet and went in to take his medications.

Andrew’s house was full of strangers. If he hadn’t just bought the thing two days ago, it would’ve been tempting to set it on fire.

They weren’t technically strangers, as Allison had pointed out, given that he worked with them. But when Renee had said she’d be stopping by to help him unpack, he would’ve preferred it if she’d mentioned she’d be bringing half the town. He glared across the room at Renee, who pretended not to notice while she helped her girlfriend unpack cooking supplies. There was banging overhead where Kevin and Matt were putting together his bed. On the one hand, he was glad he was going to be able to stop sleeping on his mattress on the floor. On the other hand…

Movement outside caught this eye, a flash of reddish brown in his front yard. “What—”

Renee paused in her silverware sorting and followed his eyes. “Oh good! Neil came.”

“What, you hadn’t brought enough people?”

His words were punctuated by a crash from upstairs, followed by Matt’s voice calling a strained, “Everything’s okay!”

“Neil’s a gardener,” Allison said, as if that should have been obvious.

“Great.” More help he didn’t want. He made his way outside, but Neil had disappeared. Grumbling, he walked around the house, only stumbling twice. A slender man stood at the edge of his backyard, facing the mountains. Andrew tried to pretend that the man didn’t improve the view considerably, and stepped up to his side.

The man gave him a slashing glance, then a matching smile. “You must be Andrew.” He held out his hand, shrugging when Andrew didn’t take it. “Neil. I’m a friend of Allison’s.”

“What fresh hell do you have in store for me?”

Neil laughed easily. “Depends on what you want. Clean all this trash up to start; after that it’s up to you.”

“Up to me.” So far not a damn thing had been up to him, despite Renee’s lip service. “In that case, can you get rid of the assholes who have taken over my house?”

“Sorry, no,” Neil said, grinning. Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off of him, and he cursed himself for his weakness. “You know how it is. Once you’re in Renee’s clutches, you will help people and you will like it.”

“I most definitely will not.”

Neil laughed again and turned back to the yard, picking up one of the discarded plastic buckets that littered the space. “I better get started.”

It was rapidly becoming familiar, getting dismissed in his own house. He would have stayed just to watch Neil work, but Dan called his name and he headed back inside to prevent a book-arranging disaster.

The rumble of a truck pulled Andrew out of the mental cocoon he went into whenever he started working on his book. The week had been blessedly quiet, save for his avian alarm clock, but it appeared that was at an end. Grumbling, he forced himself to his feet, leaving his cane leaning against the couch.

Neil was standing on his front walkway, rubbing a hand sheepishly through his hair. “Morning.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m here to figure out what we’re doing with your yard. Didn’t Allison tell you?”

Andrew thought of Allison’s parting words on Friday. “You’re welcome!” He hadn’t known what she meant and hadn’t cared. Evidently he should have. “Why?”

Neil looked at him, nonplussed. “Because having that yard basically being a wasteland of dirt is criminal?”

“Hey, it’s my wasteland of dirt.”

That damn smile made a reappearance. “You deserve more than that.”

“That’s such bullshit. Nobody deserves anything.”

Neil cocked his head to one side. “Do you really believe that?”

Andrew studied his face, the faded scarring across his cheeks, the stubborn set to his jaw that made the smile a lie. “How much is Allison paying you?”

He looked genuinely startled at that. “Nothing. I volunteered.”

“Why? What do you get out of this?”

Neil looked away, color staining his cheeks like a sunrise. “Everyone deserves a little beauty in their lives.”

Andrew wondered what it was like, going through life with the evidence of other people’s viciousness on your face, and believing in beauty anyway.

Slowly the garden took shape, each Sunday adding a little more. When Andrew greeted him the third Sunday leaning on his cane, the truckload of gravel went back to where it came from without a word. The next week, he came outside to find Neil laying out paving stones in a sunburst pattern where the concrete had once been.

Neil was interesting and unpredictable, some days working for hours in silence, others chattering at length about plants and birds, on this continent and others. Sometimes Andrew helped, raking the dirt in the raised beds, then setting the native perennials Neil had picked out gently into the sun-warmed soil. Sometimes his hands wouldn’t close on the tools, and he sat in the shade of the house and talked or read aloud from the book he was writing. Once he stopped, uncertain if Neil was even listening; his friend raised his head from where he was setting out a bird bath. “Is that it?” Neil asked, disappointment coloring his voice, and Andrew bit back his smile as he turned back to his book.

Neil arranged shrubs around the house and planted a couple of flowering trees for shade. Soon Andrew’s little pipping bird had friends of his own, and he woke to a melodic cacophony each morning. One afternoon, they sat in silence on the new furniture Andrew had ordered, sipping lemonade and watching fat bumblebees tumble in and out of hot pink flowers. The garden was almost done; the summer had already passed its peak. Andrew looked at Neil, at his summer-sky eyes and his autumn hair, and he swallowed back the grief as he realized these Sundays were drawing to a close.

The singing was not enough to stir him. He heard it, dimly, through the haze of pain, but he closed his eyes and drifted back into the darkness.

“Andrew?”

He knew that voice; it wrapped itself around his heart and pulled, forcing him into consciousness. Stifling his groan was impossible, and Neil was at his side in a flash. “How can I help?”

“I need to take my meds.” His voice sounded like gravel, and he tried to clear his throat but it was too dry to make a difference.

“Bathroom?”

Andrew hummed, and Neil disappeared, only to reappear in a second with his pill case and a glass of water. “Can I?” Neil asked, hovering an arm over Andrew’s shoulders. Nodding didn’t hurt, at least, and Neil slipped an arm gently behind him and coaxed him into a sitting position against the headboard. He held the glass so Andrew could suck some water through the straw, then handed him the pills, one at a time. When he was done, they sat there like that for a while, Andrew avoiding Neil’s eyes. He hated this, hated that Neil found him like this. Hated that this was the new reality of his life, where he could be going along okay and then suddenly be incapacitated by pain.

It hadn’t struck him down like this since he first got sick; he would never forget that panic, being alone and unable to move without screaming, having to drag himself to the bathroom. Then the weeks of doctor’s visits and tests, the medications that helped the pain but messed him up otherwise, until they finally found a cocktail that worked, more or less beating his immune system into submission. He had moved here out of sheer stubbornness; maybe he should call it stupidity. But he needed this. He needed the mountains out there, calling to him. He needed to believe that one day he would climb up there.

“Why are you here?” he asked, shattering the silence.

“It’s Sunday.”

But the garden is finished, he wanted to say; you are wasting your time with me.

Neil reached out like he was going to touch his hand, but refrained when he saw the red, swollen joints. “Did you think I was just coming for the garden?”

“Why else would you bother?”

“Andrew…I could have finished that garden in two weeks, if I’d wanted to. That was my plan, at first.” He laughed, shaking his head as if at himself. “But then you wouldn’t let me cut down that damn vine because that sparrow likes it…”

Andrew closed his eyes, hearing the unspoken words behind Neil’s soft tone. “I will never be more than this, Neil.”

“You’re Andrew. What more do you need to be?”

There was music in the trees. A symphony composed of wind through tree boughs, of the singing of birds, the chattering of squirrels, the baseline of leaves crunching underfoot. Andrew paused for breath, gulping down some water. The early springtime air traced cool fingers through his hair, and goosebumps erupted down his arms.

Recapping his water, he followed the sound of footsteps in front of him. His walking stick was worn smooth where his hand rested, and he rubbed his thumb in the glossy spot as he negotiated his way over some roots.

“It’s just up ahead,” Neil’s voice called from somewhere out of sight. Andrew took his time, even though he knew he would follow that voice anywhere. He had waited a year for this; he could wait a few minutes longer.

The trees finally opened up to a scene out of a movie. Flowers, blue and purple and white and yellow, all bowed before the wind that tore across the meadow. Neil stood on a little rise, one hand shielding his eyes, staring west. Andrew climbed up to stand next to him. He could see their house from here, the windows glinting in the sun. When he squinted, he could discern the blossoms on the flowering cherry Neil had planted near the bedroom. The tree was still small, barely taller than they were, but it bloomed with reckless abandon. Warmth crept through him that had nothing to do with the springtime sunshine as he thought of their tiny tree, and the nest the sparrows were building in its branches.

Neil bent down and kissed him, soft and lingering. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Andrew nodded, looking at the riot of color all around him. Up above, he could see the peak of the mountain looming white; once, he had longed to reach the very summit. Once, he had thought he would never set foot in the woods again. His free hand found Neil’s, tracing the familiar calluses and scars. “Beautiful.”

#writing #forgetmenotaftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #disabled!andrew #gardener!neil #my wriitng #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court

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llheji · 4 years

Photo

Something I did back in May for @forgetmenotaftg - An aftg project with the theme of flowers and growth/healing! 🌺 (I chose Allison with pink carnations as one of their meanings is remembrance of the dead, and I wanted to show how Allison's grief lead to her growth/healing!)

#aftg #Allison Reynolds #dan wilds #forgetmenotaftg #my art #myart: tfc #honestly this looks kinda ugly now but hEY i love her

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aftgficrec · 4 years

Note

Some good fics outside ao3?

We can’t get enough AFTG either, anon! There are a number of great fics on tumblr and twitter, as well as a few zines and such. Here are a few of our faves, and there are plenty more where these came from. - M and A

NB: Please use your own judgement regarding tags and trigger warnings.

Twitter

cheri by Maria / atomparrishh (Twitter; Not Rated; Complete; 2019)

andrew minyard is one of the top models in the world. while on a train from paris to rome, andrew finds himself leaving the city of love with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. a 10 hour trip of gay panic ensues. AKA a ten step guide to flirting, by andrew minyard.

NB: This is a long twitter thread that uses screenshots, photos and captions to tell the story. Very clever multimedia fic.

Reign - An Interactive AU by Andre / @Chryseos1 (Twitter, Not Rated, Dark Fic, Incomplete; 2020)

Neil Josten doesn’t want to be king but it doesn’t look like he has a choice - at least not until banished knight Andrew Minyard enters the scene. This interactive AU is an illustrated tale told through twitter polls - with real stakes! Characters will live and die according to the choices of its readers. Will you take part? Do you have it in you to choose?

NB: This interactive fic contains mild gore and serious violence including possible major character death due to the nature of the interactive choices.

Morning Fuc*offee - A Morning AU (Twitter / Tumblr) by redscribbleb / @scribbleb_red (Rating G; 1114 Words, Complete; 2019)

“Andrew Minyard likes his routine - wake up, walk to Fuc*offee, side eye the barista, do some work, go home, drink, sleep. He’s been doing this for months - the barista is good looking and easy to annoy, he’s deft with his hands and safe to look at from a distance. He’s not happy with life but he’s fine with this - it gets him by for now. Which is why he’s so irate when a new guy starts to do the same.”

NB: This author writes almost daily “Morning AUs” on twitter, which are invariably added to tumblr or AO3 as well.

Tumblr

TFC Tumblr Drabble by @c-valentino [Tumblr; Not Rated; 2017]

The cousins did not expect to find a burglar in their house, especially not one with a familiar face…

Forget Me Not Collection (Tumblr Blog)

A collection of All For the Game art and writing celebrating growth and healing, recovery and regeneration.

NB: A lovely, ongoing aftg zine hosted right here on tumblr that is accepting new content.

Kevin growing up with Riko and the Ravens, Tumblr drabble by @wesawbears [Tumblr; Not Rated; 2020]

I wanted to write something about what it was like for Kevin growing up with Riko and the Ravens and I don’t know where it went from there, but alas. Normal warnings for anything TFC related.

“How have you made it this long without someone throwing you out an airlock or something?”, Tumblr prompt fill by @puddingcatbae [Tumblr; Not Rated; 2019]

They’re in the car, headed west, flying down the freeway with the windows down because it’s summer and the weather is nice and Andrew’s car is in the shop so they took Neil’s piece of shit car for this trip instead and Neil’s piece of shit car doesn’t come with working air conditioning.

How to Steal a Million, Tumblr fic by @nekojitachan [Tumblr; Not Rated; 2019]

“A fake, you gave them a fake piece of art,” Neil reminded the fool as he ran his hands through his hair, which Allison had done her best to tame earlier. “A piece of marble, which they can use all these nice little bits of machines to scan and run tests on it.”

NB: Click through the author’s tags to find several more chapters.

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foxsoulcourt · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard Characters: Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten Additional Tags: Disabled Character, Gardener!Neil, writer!Andrew Summary:

Going against the advice of every single medical professional he knows, Andrew buys himself a house on a mountain. When Renee decides to help him move in, he ends up with more than he bargains for–in the form of a red-haired gardener with a stubborn streak a mile wide.

Bookmarker's Notes:

Alexis / @fuzzballsheltiepants, I don't know how you do it. How you can take a mere 2168 words + spin such a beautiful story full of many episodes + insights + growth + healing + restoration + renewal. Before reading The Sparrow I've never imagined Andrew with a chronic physical condition that would significantly impede his physical abilities. But now that I have, I can imagine him being his same Andrew Minyard self, albeit with a stronger hopeful streak, even if it's not obvious. Of course, having Neil as a gardener + Renee as his dear friend help a lot. Here's to all of us making beauty out of the dirt fields in our lives.

Readers, need a dose of hope? Read this story!

#writer!andrew #with a chronic physical disability #gardener!neil #the 'pip'ing bird #a gardener with a stubborn streak a mile wide #huh imagine that #andrew minyard #neil josten #renee walker #the sparrow #forgetmenotaftg #forget me not zine #celebrating growth + healing recovery + regeneration #all for the game #aftg #foxsoulcourt aftg fic rec

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forgetmenotaftg · 4 years

Text

La Vie En Klosé

Nicky Hemmick huffed as he walked out of the gate at Berlin-Tegel after a rough Christmas at home. He was just ready to get back to his host family. The Stuttgart airport was never this crowded, so he tried his best to look confident and totally not lost as shit, and finally, with the help of the signs and his growing understanding of the German language, he made it out past the passport checks. Peering out over the crowd, Nicky saw a few people waiting around with signs and advertisements for taxis and rent-a-car services, but couldn’t spot either one of his host parents yet.

“Nicky!” he heard someone call. Nicky stood up on his tiptoes and saw who had to have been Erik Klosé standing by a shitty looking Burger King with a bouquet in his hand.

…And promptly tripped over a little girl’s bright pink suitcase.

As soon as he hit the ground, Erik was offering him a hand.

Nicky suddenly realized that he was staring. He’d seen pictures of Erik around the Klosé home, but wow. “Erik?”

“Hello, Nicky. These are for you.”

“Beautiful. I mean. They’re beautiful. The flowers,” Nicky stammered, taking the flowers and hugging them to his chest as Erik helped him up.

Erik grinned.“You’re telling me.”

Nicky and Erik shuffled their feet along the winding stone path ahead of them. The quiet there was almost unsettling–It felt like the only things in existence were the hundreds of lilies in the gardens around them, the two of them, and one word hanging in the air between them.

“So your parents aren’t okay with it?”

“No. In their eyes, I’m an abomination. They’re stuck perceiving the Bible the way they want to,” Nicky shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep himself as small and contained as he felt.

“They don’t deserve to claim the title of ‘Christian.’ You do know that, right?” Erik said, stopping mid-step and turning to Nicky.

“I know. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I didn’t say that it should.” Erik placed a finger under Nicky’s chin and directed his gaze upward so they could make eye contact. “But hiding hurts even more, doesn’t it?”

Nicky swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly, reaching up to wrap his hand around Erik’s wrist. Before he could force the words he wanted to say out of his chest, Erik spoke up.

“Me too.”

“You’re— “

When Erik kissed him, those petal-soft lips made Nicky bloom as excitedly as lilies around him, and for the first time in a long time, Nicky felt the sun again.

“Erik?”

“That’s your concerned voice,” Erik said, marking his place in his book and setting it down on the nightstand next to their bed. “What’s wrong, Love?”

“I never talked about him much, but…My cousin Aaron’s mother just died in a car accident. His…You know the long-lost twin thing. Andrew was with her. He survived.”

“Oh, Baby,” Erik whispered, motioning for Nicky to join him in bed. After his boyfriend crawled in next to him, Erik wrapped his arms around Nicky and kissed his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“They don’t have a mother anymore,” Nicky started, then paused. “They’re not old enough to be independent yet, either. That means that they’d go to—“

“Luther and Maria.” Erik knew what that meant, as much he didn’t want to acknowledge it. “You want to go take care of them, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Nicky sniffled, but then his voice broke. “I—”

“You know I will respect whatever decision you make. I will be beside you the entire way, if you’ll have me, Nicky. If you want to go, that is what you’ll do. I want to make this work, and if you do, too—”

“That isn’t fair to you, Erik,” Nicky shook his head.

“Nothing is ever fair. Not wholly. I love you, and I love your heart. I trust it. Right now, it belongs somewhere else. And as long as it can share,” Erik smiled. “I don’t mind. We’ll still make time for one another. We can visit on holidays. You should go. They need you. I can wait. I will.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Says the man who is uprooting his entire life to take care of family he hardly knows. No one deserves someone as selfless and bright as you.” Erik reached over Nicky and plucked a long stem of forget-me-nots from the arrangement beside their bed. He tucked the flowers behind Nicky’s ear and kissed the end of his nose. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

“Erik?”

“Any updates?”

“They found him. He’s alive. He…Well, he looks fucked, to be honest. But he’s alive, and he’s dating Andrew.”

“Holy shit.”

“I think Aaron almost had a grand mal seizure,” Nicky shook his head. “I think I actually did. Anyway. They’re with the feds working through everything. They want him to go into witness protection, but God knows we aren’t letting him go anywhere. And Andrew? I think he’d kill the next person that even looked at Neil for too long.”

“So it isn’t just physical? Andrew actually has feelings for someone?”

“Feelings might be an understatement,” Nicky teased. “He choked out Kevin over the fact that Neil was nowhere to be found.”

“That will make my next visit all the more entertaining, won’t it?”

“Speaking of, you’re still coming to the championship, right?”

“I got approved for time off and already booked the flight. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I love you,” Nicky sighed dreamily. He could almost see Erik smiling in the stands, now. “Today just—The way Neil looked at Andrew today, it was…The same way you look at me. It was like the day you first kissed me, when you saw me for the first time. It’s…I miss you, and—Today just made me realize how quickly things can change”

“I miss you too, Nicky. I love you so much.”

“I know. I love you, Erik. Be good. Don’t get into trouble.”

Unbeknownst to Nicky, Erik popped open the small box that held Nicky’s engagement ring in his hand and closed it again. It almost made him laugh to know that Nicky would hear the click when it shut but would have no idea what it was. “I’m always good.”

“One: Bullshit. Two: Bye, Honey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Love. Be safe.”

“Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Renee asked, closing the Bible in her hands with a soft look in her eyes.

“I do.”

“Do you have a ring for the groom?”

Neil smiled and pulled the simple platinum band out of his pocket before handing it to Nicky. Go get ‘em, he mouthed.

“Please repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring…” Nicky slid the ring onto Erik’s finger, a single happy tear running down his cheek. “I thee wed.”

“Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. By the power invested in me by the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you to be married. Erik, you may kiss your husband.”

Only Matt and Dan’s catcalls managed to pull the two of them apart.

“You’re insatiable,” Nicky laughed breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck and pressing their noses together.

“What can I say? Mr. Klosé looks good on you.”

Before Nicky could speak, Erik pulled him in again.

“He’s smaller than I thought he would be.”

“Wyatt is just a baby, Love,” Erik chuckled, leaning over to rest his chin on his husband’s shoulder. “They’re small.”

“He was just born so early. He’s too small.” Nicky pressed his hand to the glass wall of the incubator in which their son was placed with a sigh.

“I think he takes after Andrew,” Neil smirked (despite the look Andrew gave him). “Really though, Nicky. He’s perfect. I know he’ll be alright before you take him home to Germany.”

Andrew crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot. “Katelyn said we—You have nothing to worry about. He’s finally eating well and he’s been gaining weight for the past week.”

“Speaking of babies, we have to go feed ours. Sir is a menace when she’s hungry,” Neil mumbled, whispering something else and receiving a nod before taking his husband’s hand.

“When we were out late for Wyatt’s birth, she tried to escape in retaliation,” Andrew nodded.

“Thank you for stopping by, you two.” Erik gently squeezed Neil’s shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Neil and Andrew said their goodbyes, Nicky pursed his lips and looked up at Erik. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”

“I know that we are,” Erik nodded, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist from behind and kissing his cheek.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Nicky, you’ve already been a parent. You were there for Andrew and Aaron when they had no one else. Because of you, they went to college. Because of you, they grew together instead of uprooting the support system you gave them. Because of you, they have a family outside of blood. You gave them all the love they never had. I have seen you love and care for people for so many years, Nicky. You are going to be an amazing father,” Erik whispered. “After everything you’ve been through and everything we’ve been through together, I think we can handle just about anything.”

Written by @reaching-my-summit, and posted here with permission.

#writing #reaching-my-summit #forgetmenotaftg #nicky hemmick #erik klose #neil josten #andrew minyard

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forgetmenotaftg · 4 years

Text

It Gets Better

Dan wasn’t one to scream. It took a lot to faze her, to surprise her.

Still, she felt that she wouldn’t be completely alone if she screamed at this.

This being a kid standing in her kitchen, wielding a kitchen knife.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The boy asked.

Dan shook her head, confused, but she caught on. She responded, “I’m Dan. We’re at Palmetto State University.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Liar.”

She shook her head, but the boy’s eyes only squinted further. When Dan looked closer, she could see a purple shadow on the kid’s cheekbone. She held up her hands like she was trying to calm a wild animal, which this kid might as well have been.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

The boy paused, took a long, drawn out breath, and spoke. “My name is Andreas.”

Dan was surprised for a moment. She hadn’t expected the kid to respond. Dan studied the boy while he gave her a scrutinizing look. He had blue eyes, light enough to be blue, but dark enough that it was hard to see in the dim lighting.

His hair was a dark brown, but what troubled Dan the most were the bruises all over the child in varying colors.

Violet, yellow, green, red, each mark was of a different spectrum.

Like a rainbow made of pain, Dan thought.

It was hard to see in the dim, but as Dan’s sight adjusted, she could see that the bruises were everywhere. Up the boy’s collar, his arms, his legs, his face, they were covered in sickening shades.

But what troubled Dan the most was his hands.

There were fresh, dark marks, and tiny slices overlaying them.

It looked painful. It must have stung to even make a grip, but the injured hands holding the knife didn’t waver from their target. She didn’t even know what sorts of marks decorated the boy under his clothes.

And that was when Dan spotted a stain on his pant leg. It looked red.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine,” He said.

It struck Dan then, how similar that sounded to Neil. The boy said in the same way as Neil did, too, when he first came to Palmetto.

The boy’s tone said, I’m used to this, and I need to be fine.

It was then that the boy collapsed onto the cheap plastic and wood floor, knife clattered to the side, mouth open in a silent gasp of pain.

His eyes shuttered once, twice before closing.

Oh no.

“What the hell are you talking about.”

“I don’t know! I just- there’s a kid in my dorm, he’s like twelve-ish, and his leg is stabbed. I do not know what to do. Just- just get here quick.”

The line clicked off.

Dan took a shaky breath, then clutched at her phone harder.

Down the hallway and through the first door on the left, lay a boy with bruises on every inch of skin, and a stab wound in his left leg.

On highway 62, Andrew Minyard was driving twenty miles over the speed limit to get to the Fox Tower.

In Fox Tower, Danielle Wilds was attempting to barricade the room where the boy lay with a dresser without making a sound.

In the first room in the left dwelled Nathaniel Wesninski. He was dreaming.

(It was a nightmare)

“You stupid child, I have explained this to you seven times.”

Mary brought the ruler down on Andreas’ hand. He didn’t wince, though. He just erased the incorrect word and scribbled down the correct letters. But still, his mother wasn’t pleased.

“How are you going to fit into the sixth grade when you cannot even spell? If you do not learn quickly, your father will come. You know what happens then.”

Andreas ducked his head down and nodded. His hands ached with every movement of the pen, but he ignored it and jotted more words and pronunciations.

Eventually, through enough swats and cuts, Andreas stopped seeing his hands as his.

Instead, he imagined that his hands were petals. Delicate, soft, but still unwilling to tear. Marks upon marks appeared, but still, Andreas saw lined blossoms instead of injured hands.

Andreas startled awake on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. He counted to ten in english, then in german in his head.

That was how long it took for Andreas to steady his breathing and compartmentalize his injuries.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room with Andreas, so he opened his eyes and sat up as quietly as he could.

His leg felt strange.

It seemed as though someone had bandaged it. Maybe his mother had done it. Probably not.

The wound wasn’t important enough to waste supplies on.

Andreas wasn’t important enough to waste supplies on.

The door was unlocked.

It was unlocked, but it wouldn’t open.

The door was unlocked, but Andreas couldn’t get out.

Trapped. That was what Andreas was.

He’d tried pushing the door open, but something blocked the entire doorway. Somebody had heard him, too. Softened footsteps had sounded right after the groan and creak of his attempts.

Eventually, he’d given up on escaping. There was a window, but it was too high up and steep to climb down from.

But through the glass pane, Andreas could see cherry blossoms whirling around in the wind.

Dan decided that the kid was Neil. It was too unlikely to be anyone else.

Neil had been in her dorm to avoid Andrew and Kevin’s argument, and Dan had gone out to buy some food. That was when she discovered the boy. He did look suspiciously like Neil, too.

But all of that reasoning didn’t explain why Neil was suddenly a child. There was no plausible reason for that, besides magic.

And magic didn’t exist, did it?

Andreas woke up to the door opening.

It was almost silent, but he’d learned to wake up at any sound while sleeping. At the doorway, a blond man stood. He didn’t look surprised that Andreas had woken up.

He watched the man carefully, when he spoke two words that froze

Andreas’s very blood.

“Nathaniel Wesninski.”

The man continued, unfazed by Andreas’s shock.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” The man said.

Andreas let himself breathe shakily for a moment, then spoke in the calmest voice he could muster.

“That’s not my name, sir. I think you are confused.”

At that, the man seemed amused, as his brow twitched up and he looked disbelieving.

“Liar. You are Nathaniel Wesninski, and are pretending to be someone else.”

Andreas’s eyes darted back and forth, trying to find a way to escape this man, who clearly knew who he was.

He opened his mouth, and got ready to lie, lie, lie.

Dan almost screamed when Andrew walked out of the room with the kid in tow.

“Hello.”

The boy’s voice was surprisingly smooth. It was high, too, still containing just a little trace of childhood in it.

“H-hi!”

“You’re Dan, right?”

Dan eagerly nodded, and the kid’s mouth tightened at the sight.

“And you’re Andreas?” She asked.

He nodded.

“Do you want some lunch?”

Another nod. Fake brown eyes angled at the ground.

“Then let’s go eat.”

Andrew watched Neil- no, Andreas sit in the backseat of the maserati. Andreas didn’t sit like a normal twelve year old would. He didn’t swing his legs, or look out the window, or fidget.

He just stayed perfectly still. Like a statue. Andrew didn’t know why, but it bothered him. Maybe it was because the kid was what Neil had once been.

Andrew knew that at this point, Neil had already escaped Nathan with his mother. But there was still a minor stab wound in Andreas’s leg, and bruises all over. Andrew knew that Mary had been abusive to Neil, but he’d never pushed it, seeing as Neil still believed it was for the best.

Andrew had learned to accept that, but the new marks on Andreas’s hands and body brought up the old hatred he’d kept inside when Neil had first told him about Mary.

But Andreas wouldn’t want to hear about his dead mother, so Andrew ignored just how silent the boy was.

Andreas was picking at his fries at McDonalds, when he looked up with his fake brown eyes, and asked, “Is my mother dead?”

Next to Andreas, Dan sucked in a panicked breath, and Andrew watched the kid with a calculating gaze. A normal person would probably say something about she was somewhere else, but there was no reason to lie.

“Yes.” Andrew said.

Dan’s hissed “Andrew!” was lost in Andreas’s quiet voice.

“How’d she die? Did my father die before her, or after?” He asked.

Andrew answered both questions unflinchingly, while Dan looked more and more panicked, probably scared that Andreas would cry or run. He did neither of those things, but Andrew saw him clench his fists under the table, and his mouth tremble.

The kid was good at hiding things, Andrew could give him that. A sob story that the rest of the foxes would probably fuss over. He knew that they would find out eventually, so when Andreas said he was done with the Happy Meal, despite not having eaten a bite of his burger, Andrew sped to the Fox Tower with Dan watching nervously in the backseat.

The reactions of the Foxes was just what Andrew had expected. Nicky had been shocked at first, then started to coo over Andreas. Renee had watched from a distance, with Allison. Aaron hadn’t cared, and Kevin had almost immediately asked about the upcoming exy game, while Andreas looked extremely shocked at the sight of Kevin.

Matt had attempted to strike a conversation with Andreas, to no avail. And all throughout the whole ordeal, Andreas had looked very uncomfortable. When he’d requested to go the bathroom, he hadn’t come out, even after twenty minutes had passed.

Surprisingly, Renee was the one to knock on the door first. Her normally sweet voice was rougher, more real.

“Andreas? Are you still in there? It’s Renee. I know it’s a bit overwhelming, meeting us, but I promise, we won’t make you go out if you don’t want to,” she said. “I won’t lie. We all know what happened with your father, and I know it must be a shock, finding out that both your parents are dead in a day, but we all understand. The Foxes are a family of messed-up people, and you might find that some of us have more in common with you than you think.”

A moment passed, then Andrew could hear shuffling behind the locked door.

“I want to speak to Renee. Alone.” Andreas said, muffled.

Turning away, Andrew said, “Everybody get out.”

For once, the Foxes all listened, shuffling outside, undoubtedly to try to listen through the door.

At Renee’s meaningful glance, Andrew stepped outside as well.

Renee knocked again, and said softly, “Andreas? Everybody’s out. I swear.”

A pause, and then the door came open.

Andreas came out, and Renee’s heart broke at how his shoulders curved in, how his battered hands clenched as he walked over the threshold.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Renee asked.

She watched Andreas breathe for a minute, before he spoke.

“I don’t know what to think. I woke up in a stranger’s bed, and apparently, my mom is dead, my father’s dead, there a bunch of people who apparently know my whole life’s events, and the craziest thing is- I’m supposed to be twenty.”

Renee was silent.

“Can you tell me what happened to your hands?” she asked.

Andreas immediately looked suspicious, and put his hands behind his back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Renee said.

And for a tense moment, he didn’t. Then Renee watched as he crumbled.

“I mess up sometimes. In German. Mom doesn’t like it when I do.”

Renee clenched her fists, but didn’t say anything, until Andreas looked up, and his scowl lessened.

“I’m glad he-I have all these friends. They seem okay. This life seems okay.” he murmured.

And Renee, dropping her nice-christian-girl face for a moment, answered back, “Trust me. It gets a lot better.”

Neil Josten woke up in the dorm room of the Fox Tower, surrounded by his friends, his family, the reason it got so much better, and took the day off to watch the cherry blossoms fall, while Andrew sat with him.

Written by @alvarez-sara and posted here with permission.

#writing #alvarez-sara #forgetmenotaftg #neil josten #dan wilds #andrew minyard #renee walker

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forgetmenotaftg · 4 years

Text

Some Days I’m the Windshield (but other days I’m just a lucky bug)

About 20 miles from the outskirts of Denver, there is a dense forest that expands through the base of a small mountain, forgotten by anyone besides the families that call it home and the unfortunate delivery workers who get lost inside it.

In this forest, hidden through the winding back roads, pass several dozen large estates and farms—there stands a tiny cottage. The orange, two story home stands on an acre of green grass, spotted with small groups of colourful boxes and big trees—and it’s the last place on Earth that people would expect the Son of Exy, the child of the East Coast’s most notorious serial killer, and a short blonde “psychopath” to live together.

For the three, there was no better place for someone to hide from the public eye. A home for the Exy off season where not a single paparazzi would know to go. As far as the general public knew; Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, and Kevin Day disappeared during every off season and trying to figure out where they went was like pulling teeth.

The Colorado’s star Exy players take their time off to relax in their home instead of living in the apartment then rented in the city during the season. It was what Andrew would call, the one place that any talk of exy is banned permanently. If Kevin and Neil wanted to talk about training or anything exy related, they had to physically walk over the property line—sometimes they spent over an hour just standing on the edge of the road just to talk.

The home isn’t just a beautiful property for the trio to live and let live, though, and they aren’t the only inhabitants. Every one of the clusters of brightly coloured and hand painted boxes holds a happy group of bees and the queen they follow.

On an average week, the three would leave the clusters alone to do what they needed. They’d only interfere if some unusual activity started up around the hives and then on the weekend all three would suit up to check on each hive and provide the normal maintenance.

They made the hives bigger or smaller, depending on how the hives were growing, using smokers to calm the bees down before opening them up. Kevin liked to joke that his partners were just like the bees when they were still playing for the Foxes— only letting people in after they’ve had a smoke and an occasional drink, stinging otherwise. Often, the joke was answered with an eye roll from the shortest of the three and a playful swat on the shoulder from Neil.

Kevin knew he was lucky that they cared for him because anyone else would have been done with him after hearing that once a week.

Right now, the three were finishing up the last hive for the day before they were going inside to take a well deserved rest. The inside of a thick bee suit is the last place any of them wanted to be during the middle of the hottest day in June, especially not when last night’s rain upped the humidity to hellish levels. The rain was also the same reason for why they were checking on the bees earlier than usual, opening them up to make sure everything was still alright inside.

“This one’s good,” Neil said, pulling out a section to see if the hive had started expanding. Kevin sighed in relief at his confirmation, lessening the pumping on the smoker so they could pack up and get inside. The top was put down before they had to leave, wheeling the big wagon full of boxes and separators away before they could brush off any remaining bees.

“Both of you better take a shower before you get on that couch,” Andrew said after the suits were off, directly causing the simultaneous groans from his partners as they shuffled to the bathroom together. He knew they were going to try to “save water” by bathing together—even if they always got distracted during. It happened every weekend without fail. Andrew just used the separate shower upstairs.

Unsurprisingly, he was the first one back into the kitchen so he put the kettle on the stove for sweet ice tea. It was way too hot for cocoa and tea. A sentiment that both the cats agreed with, the two of them probably hiding in the bedroom upstairs where the air conditioning was the strongest.

Neil and Kevin came downstairs just as Andrew put the tea bags in to steep, settling on the chairs of the island.

“Now can we take a nap on the couch?” Neil asked, his soft smile growing when he saw the tea kettle.

Andrew thought about how tired he was and mentally sighed when he realized he wanted to sleep. “If you go to the bed I’ll join once I’m done.”

It was astonishing how they did this every week like clockwork. Finish with the bees, take a shower, then take a nap. About 50% of the time, Andrew would join them—the times he didn’t would be when he took advantage of the peace to read.

The two smiled and nodded, quickly going upstairs to settle for the afternoon while Andrew poured the sweet tea into a glass pitcher with ice to sit until dinner. There was a little more sugar inside for the express purpose of irritation his taller partner.

After, he was able to head upstairs to join the two for their nap.

On the bed, Kevin was laying in the middle with Neil being the little spoon. Both had already fallen asleep in the ten minutes it took for Andrew to finish making ice tea. He couldn’t blame them, though, and instead pulled off his tee shirt and pants so he could crawl behind Kevin.

His back was facing the wall and he could see his partners, safe and happy. The soft sunlight came through the bee themed curtains (Neil’s idea, of course) and was blanketing over them, bathing the two in a yellow light. A stupid though of halos flickered through Andrew’s mind and he told himself he needed to lay off those romance books that Renee kept sending him.

Andrew settled into his,no their, bed and sighed quietly through his nose as his aching muscles settled. As if by instinct, Kevin shuffled a little close—not touching, but close enough that Andrew had the choice to reach out and wrap his arm around his waist. He decided he would unless he got too hot.

He quickly drifted off with the other two—thinking how proud Bee would be if she could see him from Heaven or whatever place good people went to.

The farm, Honey Thera-bee, settled as the owners all fell asleep together.

Written by @pipedreams-and-hallucinations and posted with permission.

#writing #forgetmenotaftg #pipedreams-and-hallucinations #andrew minyard #neil josten #kevin day #kandreil

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