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Neil didn’t like parties. There were too many people, too much alcohol being passed around, too many bad memories associated with large groups of people. One of the things he hated most about this party in particular, though, was that he knew Andrew Minyard was going to be there. When Matt Boyd had invited Neil to his New Year’s Party, Neil knew this was going to be an unfortunate consequence. He knew this, but he also knew Matt would be heartbroken if Neil didn’t come since they hardly had time to see each other since Matt graduated. He would rather spend a night avoiding his ex-boyfriend than break Matt’s heart -- an unfortunate consequence of having a family, he supposes.
His break-up with Andrew felt like forever ago now, but in reality, it had been two years. He doesn’t remember the exact words they spoke, but he remembered the way he felt after Andrew left their apartment for the last time. The first time Andrew handed Neil a key, it had meant he was home. The last time, it meant his home was long gone. They hadn’t seen each other since. Andrew had been noticeably absent from the party last year and Neil had a feeling it had something to do with him, but this year was different. Matt had warned him, thankfully, but that did little to help the way Neil’s stomach dropped when he saw a tuft of blond hair peeking out across the room.
He was leaning against the kitchen island with a water bottle in his hand because he still hated drinking and he was vaguely aware of someone speaking to him, but he wasn’t listening. Allison was next to him and she seemed to catch onto what Neil was seeing as she squeezed his hand reassuringly three times. It had always been her way of telling him she loved him when things needed to go unsaid.
“Do you need to leave?” she asked with a gentle tone. Gentle was not a word people used to describe Allison often, which Neil found to be unfair considering she was one of the most loving people Neil had ever known. She was the first Neil told about the breakup and she was also the one who sat with him watching trashy reality TV (Below Deck was a favorite of theirs) for weeks on end while he processed things. Without her, Neil doesn’t know what he would have done.
Neil shook his head, “No, no, I knew this was going to happen. I’m going to have to handle it at some point.”
“Okay, honey, but if you need to go at all, I’ll make up an excuse to get you out of here,” the woman offered with a small, sad smile as she reached up and ruffled Neil’s auburn hair. He hadn’t dyed his hair in probably a decade, but it still wasn’t as bright as it was when Neil was young. He liked that, though. It was something else that reminded him that Nathaniel was dead and Neil was alive, even if it had been a long time since he felt like it.
With that, she squeezed his hand one last time before walking away, likely to find her girlfriend, Renee. Neil sighed, now alone, as he sipped his water casually. His eyes were locked on Andrew and he didn’t know if he could look away if he tried, but the man hadn’t noticed him, yet. He’d changed. Vines tattooed on his skin crawled up his arms and under the sleeve of his t-shirt in place of the armbands he had worn since he and Neil met, and a pair of round glasses sat low on his nose. They suited him, all of it.
In his daze, he hadn’t even processed the fact that the object of his affections was coming towards him. It had been two years since he had heard the word Andrew said to him.
“Staring,” Andrew spoke gruffly. Neil was particularly surprised it was Andrew who made the first move considering he had been so adamant that everything they had was nothing. That one took Neil a while to come back from. He was back now, but with Andrew close enough to touch he was hanging on the edge of a cliff ready to jump. Neil had never been this foolish in his life, but he would sooner die than let it show on his face.
“You have glasses now,” was all Neil offered as a rebuttal. It wasn’t much, but it was the first thing that slipped off his tongue. There were a million other things he could say, but not here. Not now.
“Five minutes to midnight!” someone yelled in the background, probably Matt. It was to be expected, but it shot Neil back to reality and out of Andrew’s eyes. He couldn’t let himself get lost in him again, even if the love never left him. Andrew was never going to be someone he could just forget.
“And you…” Andrew’s voice drifts off, his expression was unreadable. “You haven’t changed at all, junkie. I shouldn’t have come over here.”
Andrew was always a man of few words, Neil was glad to see that hadn’t changed even as he watched the man abruptly turn and walk away from him. His white-knuckled grip was a sharp contrast to the black countertop as Neil felt the pain from his old scars being torn with how much strength he was using to stay in control. Control was all he had left, he figured. Ironic, that Andrew caused his old scars to begin to split open. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but before he could realize what was happening people were counting down and he supposed this was it.
He didn’t follow along with the countdown, but at the two his eyes met Andrew’s across the room.
“One,” he muttered with a bitter tongue. Around him, people kissed and drank, but Neil kept eye contact. He watched as Andrew took a sip of a champagne glass he must have picked up, but that was the closest to celebrating either of them got. Neil looked away first.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur and Neil didn’t remember much, but his ride was passed out on the couch by two in the morning so he knew he was ass out and would probably end up sleeping somewhere in Matt’s house like most of the partygoers. He didn’t mind as he let himself walk upstairs to Matt’s guest room. Someone was laying on the floor and Neil chuckled quietly to himself as he realized it was his old friend, Kevin passed out. Last he had checked in with him, he had been trying to take things slowly, but Kevin had always been intense and drinking was not excluded in that. With a sigh, he crawled into the bed and let himself dream of the times he and Andrew had when they were younger.
He wasn’t sure what time he woke up, but the house was silent when he did. Rubbing his eyes, he checked his phone and saw it wasn’t much past seven in the morning. He sighed as he headed downstairs, tip-toeing over the passed out party-goers and trying not to slip on the glitter on the floor. He poured himself a cup of black coffee before he reached under Matt’s sink and pulled out a trash bag. Neil liked cleaning, he really did. It was a way to pass the time before everyone woke up and it was simply peaceful.
“Want help?” a voice startled him. Turning around, Neil saw Andrew standing against the kitchen island right where Neil had been standing the night before. He was rubbing his eyes, his glasses propped atop his head. Looking at his arms, Neil saw there were flowers dotted along the vines.
“What does that one mean?” Neil pointed to the purple hyacinth on the inside of his wrist -- a place Neil had pressed his lips against more times than he could count.
“Regret,” Andrew answered simply. He didn’t speak further on it as he motioned to the trash bag, “Help?”
Neil swallowed, wondering how soon Andrew had gotten that tattoo after the breakup. He wondered if it was even about him at all. Maybe he was selfish for wanting it to be. That depended on what Andrew was regretting, he supposes. “Uh, yeah. I’ll grab bottles if you wanna collect the champagne flutes and get them in the sink so we can start doing the dishes.”
Andrew nodded and the two of them got to work in a steady silence. The clinking of the bottles as they landed on each other in the trash bag Neil was holding was the only ambiance.
“It’s not you that I regret,” Andrew spoke after an undefined amount of time. His voice was quiet like he wasn’t sure he wanted Neil to hear what he had to say. When the redhead turned to face him, his voice seemed to be a little more affirmative. “It’s… it’s leaving.”
“If I remember correctly,” Neil spoke gently, his words dancing off his tongue with a recklessness unfamiliar to him, “purple hyacinths can mean forgiveness, too.”
“If you knew what they meant, why did you ask?”
Neil shrugged, turning and picking up another bottle, “Maybe I wanted to hear you say it. Regretting leaving isn’t… never mind.”
The other man didn’t push as he carried champagne flutes to the sink. Once he was done carrying them, he walked over to where Neil was standing. Raising an arm slowly, he points to one on his bicep, just peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. A blue-violet.
“Watchfulness. It’s supposed to mean that I’ll always be there,” Andrew’s voice was quiet but precise, a small truth in the breath of the morning meant for only the two of them to share. “I got it a couple of weeks after we ended things to remind me… to remind me of how I fucked that up.”
Looking at the way Andrew’s face creased gently broke Neil’s heart all over again. A small difference to someone else, but Neil knew that it meant so much more than that. His blue eyes met Andrew’s and Neil was at a loss for words. Before he could even process what was happening and find something, anything to say in return to that, Andrew turned away from him.
“I’m gonna grab a broom and try and clean up some of this glitter and confetti,” the man announced, very pointedly avoiding the fact that Neil’s eyes were watching his every move.
“It’s no use, it’s practically embedded in the floorboards already,” Neil said with a small scoff. “Andrew --”
“What, junkie?” Andrew turned around to face him again, his voice tense as the morning sun shone off his cheekbones, it was clear his jaw was clenched and Neil was dying to know what he was holding back. “What could possibly be said right now? I fucked things up, I left you, and now I showed up at this stupid party and here we are, end of story.”
Neil looked away first this time, smiling to himself. He looked up again, a glint of hope in his eye. Andrew still cared. That was the only thing running itself to death in his mind right now. “You know… I’d rather be cleaning up now with you than partying with everyone else. Even still.”
“Neil,” Andrew’s voice was a strained plea disguised in typical monotone annoyance, but Neil knew Andrew better than anyone. He trained himself to see through this years ago and to him, Andrew was as readable as a picture book; that would never change no matter how much they did.
“Stay,” the word fell off his tongue before he had even thought about it. He had been thinking about this for two years. Neil let his grip loosen on the trash bag as he reached around his neck as he unclasped the silver chain hanging around his neck. On it was two items. The key Andrew had returned and the ring he had given him two and a half years ago. He thought he was a fool for keeping them, but something in him couldn’t let go of all he had left of Andrew. Walking over to where Andrew stood in the morning sun, he held out the chain. An offer.
Andrew glared at the objects before his eyes met Neil’s again, “What are you saying?”
“If you’re so mad at yourself for leaving, then stay.” The offer was clear.
“I hate you so goddamn much,” was all Andrew had to say.
In the morning sun at the break of a new year, Andrew grabbed the chain. It was time to go home.