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Andrew is not afraid of the dark. There are other more important things to be afraid of and he would know better than anyone that real monsters tend to come out even in the daylight.
This is why he is unafraid of his current situation, alone, in the waxing moonlight, in the middle of nowhere South Dakota, in a town that’s name has been long forgotten and whose residents have packed up and left a long time ago.
The buildings are crumbling, the only remaining structure being the old gas station whose empty interior is not nearly as interesting as the old, rusted gas pumps that are sitting out front. The entire town is a ghost. Old shells of buildings that have rotten wood, dilapidated front steps, and collapsed roofs. Andrew has been here for hours, because a space like this can be explored for hours. He took photos during the day, ignoring the bitter chill from the gusting winds of the plains, and stayed long enough to take photos at night, using nothing but his portable light and the shivering moon as lighting.
These moments are the best moments. Quiet, unassuming, and freeing. Andrew can do as he pleases: take photos, enter old buildings without needing permission, and smoke as many cigarettes as he wants without someone telling him that it’s too much.
A year ago Andrew accepted a job with Abandoned America a magazine focused on urban exploration and the hidden bones of old ghost towns scattered across the country.
There is so much space and so much to see, so many places to photograph, so many leads to follow, so many things that have just been left to wither. Andrew knows a thing or two about being abandoned, he doesn’t disparage these places, just finds a common ground among their dusty roads and scattered remains. It’s a graveyard and Andrew is the grounds keeper.
He takes one last photo of the old train station, where the vines have overgrown and taken over what tracks still remain. He packs up his light and shoves it into the back of his car, dragging his tripod behind him as he goes.
When he’s in the driver’s seat of the Maserati, he lights a cigarette and let’s the red flaming ember light the interior, one singular point of awakening in complete darkness.
He’s not afraid of the dark and he’s not afraid of being alone.
Back at his hotel he unloads his equipment and sets up his computer in the center of his cheap motel bed that creaks when he sits down. He uploads the photos onto his computer and sifts through them, one after another until he feels satisfied.
There are so many places out there that have been left untouched and Andrew is going to be the one to crack them open and watch them spill out in front of his camera like an uncooked egg.
****
“How long are you going to be in South Dakota?” Aaron’s voice carries through the car speakers. He sounds grainy and far away, but even without the sound Andrew can still feel the distance.
“A while,” Andrew replies cryptically. It isn’t true, he’s been on his way out of South Dakota for the last three hours, but driving through this state is like driving through the Atlantic ocean, it’s vast and never ending. He will be here a while but Aaron’s definition of a while is very different from Andrew’s.
“So you won’t be able to make it?” Aaron asks, sounding like he’s trying not to be disappointed.
Right, the party. The engagement party. The party. Andrew squeezes the steering wheel tight enough for the leather to creek and his knuckles to turn white. An engagement. A wedding. A party.
“Right,” Andrew says, “I don’t think so.”
Aaron sighs, sighs, and Andrew has to grind his teeth together to stop himself from making an uncouth comment.
Andrew doesn’t give a shit about Aaron’s wedding or his fiance, who has always been two steps away from getting a knife in the stomach. Andrew isn’t a well-rounded person and he certainly isn’t patient when it comes to certain things. He could sit in the same spot for seven hours straight, waiting for the perfect lighting to hit before taking a photo, but he can’t stand more than ten minutes in the same room as Aaron’s Fiance.
Aaron’s fiance, Aaron’s fiance, Aaron’s fucking fiance.
“Nicky will be there,” Aaron says.
Another reason that Andrew is happy he will be on the other side of the country for the engagement party.
“I said I can’t make it,” Andrew replies, “Work.”
“Right,” Aaron says, sounding disappointed, tired, unhappy, “Work.”
They fall into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound between them is the quiet purr of the Maserati. Andrew listens to Aaron breathing. It’s even and numbered and Andrew knows him well enough that he’s counting out his breaths to calm himself down.
“I know you don’t give a shit about anything,” Aaron says, “But your only brother is about to get married.”
“Who knows if you’re my only brother,” Andrew says, deflecting, always deflecting. He holds up a mirror and forces Aaron to look at it, pretending that it’s easier than being seen.
“You know what?” Aaron says and it sounds like he’s smacking his hand against a table and then, “I’m done. I tried to include you in this. After everything I thought that you would want to be included. Color me fucking surprised.”
He hangs up before Andrew can say anything. Which is fine because Andrew doesn’t really have anything to say.
He’s heading to Washington for the foreseeable future and then down to Oregan. He’ll skip California, he never goes to California, before moving onto Nevada. Maybe he’ll make a pit stop in Arizona, or maybe he’ll just ride all the way through to New Mexico for his next round of photo shoots.
It’s easier to be hidden in the dust of old America than sitting in his brother’s apartment in Chicago, listening to his fiance and her family wax poetic about love and finding each other against all odds, those odds being Andrew, those odds being their shitty fucking upbringing.
Anger is like the twisting vines that Andrew had photographed over the old train tracks in South Dakota, it’s ugly and cumbersome but a part of him all the same.
There was a time when he didn’t care enough to feel anger but now he’s angry and he doesn’t want to think about what it means.
He drives until he reaches a rest area. He smokes, uses the bathroom, shakes out his aching limbs, checks in with his boss, and then starts his journey all over again.
There is safety in the unknown and safety in the things that have no expectations for him.
****
In Washington, he photographs an old milling town that’s just as dead and empty as the town in South Dakota. He photographs the old general store, still packed full of decaying products and moldy jars of peaches. He spends two days straight out there, sleeping in his car for a few hours before setting out to take photos of the sleepy forest set under the rising sun.
The town doesn’t judge him. Doesn’t demand anything from him. He smokes a cigarette in the old sawmill and kicks around loose wood that cracks under the weight of his foot from years of being left out to the elements.
He leaves in the misting rain right before sunset, packing his equipment and taking one last photo from his car at the bottom of the hill.
The hotel he has booked is more of a camping cabin than a hotel. His bed is hard as rocks and the air vent lets in cold air that leaves his nose stuffing in the middle of the night.
Before he leaves he sends his edited photos from South Dakota along with two articles about the ghost towns he photographed. His boss sends him back an email singing his praise, but Andrew ignores them and focuses on the next round of locations that he is told to visit.
A town in Oregon, old and decaying and surrounded by a winding forest, a town in Nevada, dusty and abandoned, and then an old farm in Utah that’s set on hundreds of acres of land. The assignments have no deadline, he’s already ahead of schedule, his boss claims that Andrew is the most dedicated employee in the organization. The truth is that Andrew just doesn’t have anything else to do and nowhere else to be.
He tries not to think about Chicago.
Andrew gets a motel room on the Washington-Oregon border and spends a few days sorting through photos and writing up an article about the milling town in the stale smelling room. Nicky calls several times but Andrew lets all of them go to voicemail, in the end he just turns his phone off and ignores all calls and texts. Even the ones from Renee, the only person in the world that he actually doesn’t mind talking with.
It’s fine. He tells himself it’s fine. Aaron has survived without him for the last two years, juggling med school and internships. Andrew’s only point of contact with him being the checks he deposited into Aaron’s account and the occasional phone call. Now it’s come to my engagement party and will you be a part of my wedding?
Your only brother.
Andrew closes his laptop and gets off the bed. The motel is stuck on a barely used highway tucked into the middle of a deep forest. The neon motel sign blinks rhythmically and the bright yellow vacancy hums some sad electrical tune into the empty parking lot.
The vending machine is outdated but Andrew helps himself to a generic pack of cookies and a bag of gummy worms that are hard enough to break a tooth. He has a cigarette half way out of his pack when he turns and bumps straight into someone.
Andrew is a sturdy person by nature. He learned at a young age to stand his ground, to never falter, to keep his feet grounded so that he won’t stumble when hit. So he doesn’t move, but the guy or kid in front of him crumbles like he’s a sand castle and Andrew is the angry kid that knocked him over for no good reason.
The stumble knocks his hoodie off his head, revealing a head of messy brown hair, dark brown eyes that reflect the blinking neon light above them, and a series of bruises across his face that are yellowing around the edges.
He pushes himself up off of the pavement and Andrew has the inexplicable urge to reach out and help him. He has a pathetic look on his face, fear, panic, paranoia, as if he’s afraid Andrew will knock him back down with extreme force.
The kid stands and looks over his shoulder, shrugging his duffel bag high on his shoulder and grips the strap tightly with his bloody fingers.
“Sorry,” The kid mumbles, looking over his shoulder every couple of seconds as if he’s being chased.
Andrew shrugs at him and the kid nods before starting to walk off, avoiding bumping into Andrew as he passes him. Andrew turns with him, watching him leave, his curiosity piqued. There is absolutely nothing special about the stranger, just a weird man wrecked with paranoia and fear.
He makes it all of two steps before a female voice is calling across the parking lot. Her syllables pull like meat from the bone, her voice resounding in the empty space, echoing and echoing.
“Nathaniel!”
The kid next to Andrew goes completely still, frozen with terror. This is a look that Andrew recognizes, a feeling that once plagued him when he was far too young. He watches the indecision pass over the kids face. He looks down the length of the motel and then back towards Andrew, his eyes dancing with terror, his pupils blown wide.
“Nathaniel!” The voice calls again, dragging and dragging out each individual vowel. Making the name last forever, making it echo over and over again. With each reverberation of the word the boy stiffens, hands tightening.
Andrew makes a decision without thinking too much.
He grabs the kid by the arm and drags him the short walk to his motel room. He unlocks the door and shoves him inside, hits the lights so they’re off and closes the door behind him.
Andrew leans back against the wall of the motel, casual, his body loose and unafraid. He lights a cigarette and listens to the sounds of footsteps echoing towards him, coming from seemingly everywhere.
Andrew doesn’t react when the woman comes into view. She’s tall and thin but there’s something sharp about her, dangerous, bordering on disconcerting. But there are very few things in the world that Andrew is afraid of, and an intimidating woman is not one of them.
There is another person flanking her and in the distance Andrew can make out more figures, all of them standing just outside of the neon light’s reach. Andrew stays casual, open, leaning back and smoking his cigarette all the while watching as the woman looks between the few parked cars. She snaps her fingers at the man behind her and signals towards the main office. The guy takes off across the parking lot and the woman, sharp as ever, comes straight towards Andrew.
“Hello,” she says in greeting, smooth and calm, as if she hasn’t just appeared from the woods like a bad omen. “I’m looking for my step-son. About this tall,” she holds her hand up to indicate an imaginary height, “dressed in a hoodie, brown hair, brown eyes. Have you seen him?”
Andrew pretends to think about it, really gives her a show of it, tilting his head back and quirking his mouth in just the right way.
“No,” he says, after a moment, “Haven’t seen him.”
“Really?” She asks, her voice straining, “I could have sworn he ran this way.”
“Haven’t seen him,” Andrew repeats.
Her eyebrow twitches and Andrew can see the pure restraint in her eyes. She’s holding herself back, trying to keep herself from reaching out and wringing Andrew’s neck. She isn’t very good at hiding it, the violence that lays just under the surface of her porcelain skin, but Andrew is sure that she doesn’t notice or care.
“Are you sure?” She asks through her teeth, “He’s not well. We’re worried he’ll hurt himself if we don’t find him soon.”
Andrew takes a drag of his cigarette just to be contrar. He watches her eyebrows twitch, her lip twitch, her shoulders tighten. He blows the smoke out in her direction.
“Nope.”
The woman lets out a low noise that, if heard from a distance, could be mistaken for a stray dog.
“Fine,” she says, “Thank you for your help.” She turns on her heel and walks straight to the main office. Andrew doesn’t move until she’s collected her companion and is walking back out into the thick darkness of the woods beyond the motel.
He waits a moment longer just to be sure that they’re gone before throwing away his dead cigarette and letting himself into the motel room. As soon as he hits the lights the kid is scrambling onto his feet and then swaying unsteadily. He doesn’t completely relax when he sees that it’s Andrew but he lets out a long deep breath that almost sounds like relief to Andrew’s untrained ears.
“Who the fuck was that?” Is the first thing Andrew can think to say followed up by, “Who the fuck are you?”
“No one,” The kid replies shortly, he grabs his duffel and picks it up, straining with one hand on his stomach like he’s hurt, “Thank you for helping me. I should go.”
For the second time tonight, Andrew acts without thinking. He raises his arm and blocks the kid off from leaving, causing him to come to a full stop just an inch away from Andrew’s arm.
“They’re still out there,” Andrew says, “The woman I spoke with is sure you’re here. They won’t go far.”
The runaway visibly swallows and starts to shake, the hand on his stomach tightening.
Andrew drops his arm and sighs. “Stay,” he says quietly, but firmly, “At least until the morning.”
The kid isn’t really in any place to argue and he immediately sinks to the ground in a pile of limbs, doubling over and covering his stomach with his arm.
“What’s wrong with you?” Andrew asks, he drops down to a crouch and reaches out to grab the kid by the hood and haul him upright so he can see his stomach. There aren’t any visible signs of damage, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
“I was hit,” he says, pained, “It's fine.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Andrew replies, he tugs on the hood of his sweater and says, “Take this off.”
The kid looks up at him in shock, his eyes wide. “Wh-what?” He stutters.
“Let me see it,” Andrew says, he stands up and walks to the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and coming back.
The kid just watches him without moving. Andrew rolls his eyes. “Today.”
He hesitated but after a second of contemplation he pulls his sweater off and then slowly raises the edge of his t-shirt. It’s messy but Andrew doesn’t see any blood. There’s a blooming bruise that’s colored blue and purple against his skin. Andrew ignores the red scars that mark the rest of him and focuses on that singular point.
“How bad is it?” Andrew asks, “You might be bleeding internally.”
He pressed his hand to his stomach and poked around at the bruised skin. His reactions remained controlled, not giving anything away about his pain level.
“I think it’s okay,” He concludes, dropping his shirt and looking up at Andrew, “It’s just a really bad bruise.”
Andrew looks to the door and debates getting up and going for ice but he’s a bit paranoid and a bit cautious. If that woman and her crowd of followers are still outside there would be no guarantee that she wouldn’t burst into the motel room and search for the kid.
Nathaniel. Andrew looks him over and really takes in the sight of him.
He’s filthy, covered in dirt and smudges of mud from running through the woods. His shoes left a trail into the motel room but Andrew isn’t worried about paying a $20 cleaning fee.
Nathaniel, Andrew isn’t sure he even wants to call him that, is small and dirty and smells like evergreen trees and wet earth. Andrew doesn’t know anything about him but the fiercely protective side of him, the side that always put his brother before himself, feels the urge to watch over him. Ensure his safety.
It’s a fleeting feeling. In the morning they’ll go their separate ways and Andrew will only hope that he won’t immediately run into the people that are chasing him.
“Why are they chasing you?” Andrew asks.
Nathaniel goes tense and shrugs, looking away and down to the tattered carpet, one hand absently rubbing against his stomach in soothing circles.
“I can’t tell you,” he confesses quietly.
Andrew should have expected as much.
“Fine,” he says, he drops the towel into Nathaniel’s lap and turns away to get his laptop and equipment off the bed. “At least tell me if you plan on killing me in the middle for the night.”
Nathaniel looks offended at the suggestion. “I won’t,” he promises and Andrew decides to take him for his word.
“Go shower,” Andrew tells him, “You’re disgusting.”
Nathaniel lets out a quiet laugh that holds very little humor and stands up to make his way over to the bathroom. Before he reaches the door Andrew turns to look at him, hunched over and looking weak, tired, sore.
“What’s your name?” Andrew asks. Nathaniel turns and looks at him with a curious gleam in his eyes.
“You heard them,” Nathaniel replies, an observation that’s laced with a hint of annoyance.
“Yes,” Andrew says, “But I also saw the flinch.”
Nathaniel gives him a curious look, one that is disbelieving in Andrew’s words. He either thought he hid his reactions well or didn’t realize how panicked he had been moments ago. Or maybe he’s never been given the decency of a choice before. Andrew can find that relatable, he had never been given much of a choice when he was younger.
“I hate it,” Nathaniel admits, “I’m-” he pauses and looks to the bathroom so he doesn’t have to meet Andrew’s eyes, “I’m named after my father.”
Andrew can practically taste the resentment that’s attached to that confession.
“You can think about a new name in the shower,” Andrew says dismissively. Nathaniel gives him a wide eyed stare but Andrew just turns away, not wanting to be given more credit than he deserves.
“What’s your name?” Nathaniel asks from behind him.
“Andrew,” Andrew says, keeping his back turned, not wanting to welcome any more questions.
Nathaniel takes it for the dismissal it is and stands up. Andrew doesn’t relax until he hears the click of the bathroom door shutting behind him. Andrew sits down onto the creaky mattress and lets out a deep breath.
All of his time on the road, alone and traveling through the entirety of the US he has never ran into anything quite like this before. He doesn’t believe in fate, but for some reason a very small part of him, the last part that’s filled with childish hope, wants to believe that all of this means something.
****
Andrew doesn’t get much sleep. Having another person in the room is stressful, leaving him to lay stark still with his eyes fixated on the ceiling. Nathaniel had come out of the bathroom, collapsed on the second bed in the motel room, and fell asleep quickly and quietly. When Andrew was absolutely sure that he was dead to the world, he closed his eyes and slept the very few hours until dawn.
Now he’s awake and standing outside of the motel room with a lit cigarette. He already moved his equipment to the car and is ready to leave as soon as Nathaniel is awake and ready to part ways. Again the small nagging, hopeful creature inside of him wants to take Nathaniel along with him, at least until he leaves the state, ensuring that whoever or whatever is chasing him won’t be able to catch up.
He won’t. Andrew enjoys his freedom and being alone is so much better than being shackled to another person. That’s why he left in the first place, to put any amount of distance between himself and his family.
The door to the motel room opens with a quiet click and Andrew turns in time to see Nathaniel stepping outside, wearing a similar outfit to what he had on yesterday, but clean as if he had multiple versions of the same outfit in his duffel bag.
“Hey,” Nathaniel says, he looks better after a shower and a full night’s sleep, less weak limbed and unsteady on his feet. He doesn’t even slouch and Andrew can only assume that the bruising across his stomach has gone down.
Andrew doesn’t reply. He gives Nathaniel an assessing stare as he steps out of the room completely and closes the door behind him.
“I don’t know if I thanked you,” Nathaniel says, “For last night. So- well- thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Andrew replies, looking away. The wind is picking up and it blows the tops of the evergreen trees in every direction.
“Right,” Nathaniel says, he looks around and then leans against the door. Andrew can feel his eyes staring holes into the side of Andrew’s head. He really just wants to turn and force Nathaniel’s gaze away, making him look anywhere else, but he remains steady and unmoving, waits for Nathaniel to make the first move.
“I’m going to leave,” Nathaniel says, “I can hitchhike my way to California or something. Hopefully that will give me a head start.”
“Are they always chasing you?” Andrew asks, looking over at him, “For how long?”
Nathaniel shrugs and then plays with the edge of his sweatshirt. “Years.”
“The woman from last night made it sound like you had just run away from home,” Andrew says conversationally, “Called you her step-son.”
Nathaniel visibly flinches and Andrew watches him for any more tells about the situation. For someone so unwilling to shed his secrets, he does not do a very good job at hiding them.
“She is my step mom,” Nathaniel says, “I can’t tell you why but, they followed me all the way to Seattle.”
“From?”
“Baltimore.”
“Jesus,” Andrew says, “They’re not going to stop.”
It isn’t a question but Nathaniel answers it anyway.
“No,” He confesses, “Not until they catch me.”
Andrew looks over the bruising on his face, the yellowing outlines are harsh and the center is still a ghastly purple, his skin marked and broken.
There is the sensation again. The feeling of wanting to protect. The feeling that Andrew hates so fucking much. He can’t save someone. He can’t save this kid and all of his problems. But for some godforsaken reason he really wants to try.
“I have something to do in Oregon,” Andrew says before he can stop himself, “And then I’m heading to Nevada. You can tag along. If you want.”
Nathaniel’s head shoots up and his eyes widen. Andrew doesn’t miss the familiar ring that sits around his irises, contacts, colored contacts probably. Whatever Nathaniel is hiding under those contacts, Andrew hopes it’s better than the dead brown that is looking up at him.
“Really?” Nathaniel asks, “You’d do that? Even though you know I’m being followed? They’re dangerous. It’s not safe.”
“Nothing is safe,” Andrew says, waving him off, “It doesn’t matter in the end. They won’t be looking for me or my car. They won’t even think to follow.”
Nathaniel looks unsure, his eyes dancing between the woods around them and Andrew. He tightens his hold on his sweater, his fingers tightening and loosened over and over again.
“Are you- are you sure?” Nathaniel asks. His eyes are filled with hope and Andrew hates the warm sensation that washes over him. The feeling that he put that hope there, gave this kid another chance to live.
“I’m sure,” Andrew says, he drops his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under the toe of his boot. “Get your shit, we’re leaving.”
Nathaniel nods and opens the motel room door, stepping inside to grab his duffel bag off the floor.
“Oh and another thing,” Andrew says, watching as Nathaniel steps back out into the parking lot, his hand wrapped around his duffel bag, “Lose the contacts.”
Nathaniel looks surprised but then he gives Andrew the tiniest smile, small enough that it could have been missed, but on Nathaniel’s face it shines brighter than the setting sun.
“I can do that,” Nathaniel says, “I need to change appearances anyway. They’re looking for someone with dark hair and dark eyes.”
Andrew shakes his head and turns to his car, unlocking the Maserati and getting in, Nathaniel following after him.
“We’ll stop somewhere,” Andrew says, starting the car and driving them into what is most likely going to be the weirdest road trip of his life.
****
They stop at a gas station a few miles out from Andrew’s next destination. Andrew goes inside to get cigarettes and a bottle of peroxide, as requested, and comes back out to find Nathaniel hanging out the passenger side window watching him, his eyes now a shocking shade of blue that matches the sky overhead.
Andrew doesn’t falter but the sight hits him like a car going full speed in his direction. He didn’t think a color like that could exist on a person, a crystalline blue that’s sharp enough to cut like a diamond.
Andrew throws his wallet and keys at Nathaniel, who catches them easily and keeps watching as Andrew goes to the gas pump and starts refueling the Maserati.
“What do you think of the name Johnny?” Nathaniel asks.
Andrew leans against the side of the car while he waits, sending Nathaniel an unimpressed glare.
“Awful,” He says, “Try again.”
Nathaniel scratches at his chin and leans his head against the metal of the car, his hair shaggy and pillowing out around him, falling into his face until he pushes the errant strands away. Andrew can’t look at him for too long, or else he’ll get lost and think thoughts that won’t help anyone.
“Mark?” Nathaniel offers.
“No.”
“Michael?”
“No.”
“Jude?”
“No.”
“Chris?”
“No,” Andrew says. The gas pump clicks and stops filling. Andrew reaches out to put it back in its place. “You’re terrible at this.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“No,” Andrew says. He walks around the car and gets into the driver’s seat. Nathaniel falls back into his seat and hands Andrew his wallet and keys.
“You’re not very helpful,” Nathaniel complains.
“I’m not trying to be,” Andrew replies.
They get back onto the highway and drive the few miles out to Andrew’s destination. It’s an old abandoned town in the middle of the woods, less a town and more a series of old wooden structures that once passed as houses. Getting there in the Maserati is a nightmare, it’s all winding roads and twisted unpaved streets.
Nathaniel keeps his face pressed against the window, his eyes following the trail of trees that surround them. He looks like a kid riding through a lights festival, admiring the decorations around them and holding back his oh’s and aw’s.
“You’re not bringing me out here to kill me are you?” Nathaniel asks, “I know we just met but I sort of trusted you.”
“I told you that I had something to do,” Andrew replies shortly.
“In the middle of the woods?” Nathaniel asks, leaning against the seat and watching Andrew with a piercing gaze, a gaze that Andrew can feel like a physical weight on his skin. How someone so small and frail can carry such a strong presence is beyond Andrew’s understanding.
“Yes,” Andrew replies.
“I know we just met,” Nathaniel says, “But I feel like you enjoy being cryptic.”
“Yes,” Andrew says again which causes Nathaniel to let out a groan and throw his head back against the headrest.
The forest breaks and leads them out into an open space encircled by worn out buildings and broken foundations. Andrew parks the car just out of sight and gets out, dragging his equipment and lights along with him.
“What are you doing here?” Nathaniel asks, “How did you even know this was here?”
“It’s my job,” Andrew replies, he pulls his camera from it’s bag and wraps the strap around his wrist several times so that it won’t fall.
“You’re job,” Nathaniel repeats. He sits against the hood of the Maserati and watches Andrew setup equipment. “You take photos of places like this?”
“Yup,” Andrew says, “All over the country.”
“Do you do this often or is this more of a couple months out of the year thing?”
“All the time,” Andrew replies after a moment. The sun is in a good position to take photos. The small opened space is bright without much shadow but in a few hours the sun will start to set and the trees will cast splotches of darkness across the abandoned town. He’ll take photos then as well and if he’s lucky he can take more at dusk when the sky is a burning red and pink.
Nathaniel hums but doesn’t say anything else about the matter. Andrew sets up his tripod and starts to work, wandering around the field and taking photos when something catches his eye.
Nathaniel follows him but veers off on his own exploration after a few moments. He lets himself into one of the old wooden structures and Andrew doesn’t bother keeping an eye on him.
It’s strange to have someone else share a space like this with him, but Nathaniel doesn’t linger around too much and at one point he wanders back to the car and pulls out the bottle of peroxide, stripping down to his t-shirt and pouring half the bottle into his hair and then sitting out in the grass under the sun.
Andrew works quietly and quickly, trying not to let the added company change his routine. He smokes a cigarette when he wants, enters buildings when he wants, and takes photos when he wants. He sets up his camera on the tripod in front of the largest building in the clearing and sets the shutter speed to the slowest it can be and steps back, letting the camera do the work for him.
Nathaniel is laid out in the middle of the grass like a starfish, his arms stretched out beside him. His hair looks considerably lighter but also chunky and uneven, sticking together in clumps.
Andrew walks over and kicks his foot. Nathaniel cracks an eye open and throws one of his arms over his face, hiding himself from the setting sun.
“What about George?” Nathaniel asks, his voice groggy from sleep.
“No,” Andrew replies.
“Come on,” Nathaniel says, sitting up, “I can pass as a George.”
He looks like a complete mess, there are blades of grass stuck in his sticky hair and laying on the hard ground didn’t do the shape any favors.
“You better plan on washing that shit out before you get back in my car,” Andrew says nodding towards Nathaniel’s head, “If you ruin my seats I’ll leave you on the side of the road.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nathaniel says waving him off, “I’ll use a water bottle.”
Andrew rolls his eyes and looks away, checking his camera with a quick glance before looking back to Nathaniel. He’s quietly picking away the blades of grass that are bent out of shape from his outstretched legs.
Andrew has no reasonable explanation for why he offered to take Nathaniel along with him. He’s a runaway with people chasing him that are dedicated enough to cross the entire country to get him back. Andrew doesn’t trust easily, he’s never wanted to give that away to someone, but Nathaniel is sitting in front of him with no expectations in his eyes, his fingers full of ripped up grass and dandelion stalks with the roots still sticking out.
It makes no sense but Andrew has always made irrational decisions. That’s how he landed himself in juvie, how he ended up pulling the wheel of the car when Aaron’s mother was driving him home, how he ended up accepting a job that kept him on the road, never settling, never stopping. For someone with a perfect memory, who never forgets anything, Andrew has truly let history continue to repeat itself.
Nathaniel lifts his hand to his mouth and blows the blades of grass out in front of him.
“What are you going to do in Nevada?” Andrew asks.
Nathaniel shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ll probably get a bus somewhere. Try and make some money as I go, sleep in empty houses when I can. Just keep moving.”
“So you have no plan,” Andrew says, “Just making it up as you go.”
“Pretty much,” Nathaniel replies. He looks up at Andrew and squints against the sun, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Will you just- I don’t know, keep going?”
“I don’t have a set destination,” Andrew says, “I get assignments from my boss, I go to those places, I take photos, and then I move on to the next one.”
“So you’re just going to keep going forever?”
“Yup,” Andrew says, looking away.
“Is that all you really want out of life?”
“It’s all I need.”
Nathaniel goes quiet and rubs at his forehead with his free hand. The peroxide has started to dry against his skin right by his hairline, causing the skin there to look tight and dry.
“Wash your damn hair, runaway,” Andrew says, “We’re almost done here.”
Nathaniel nods and stands up from his spot in the grass. He walks to the car and pulls out his duffel bag, rummaging through until he procures a water bottle that is half full. He opens the cap but stops, looking as if he just came to a realization.
“What about Jacob?” Nathaniel asks, looking over his shoulder, the water bottle in hand, a smart smirk blooming across his face.
Andrew doesn’t bother responding. He rolls his eyes and turns away, walking back to check on his camera and start packing up his equipment.
“I can pass as a Jacob!” Nathaniel calls.
The truth is that Andrew doesn’t think he could pass as anyone. Nathaniel is as unreal as a photo taken with long exposure, a twisting image that doesn’t look quite the same as the image presenting itself to the world.
****
Andrew settles on referring to Nathaniel as Idiot, Runaway, and Kid instead of any of the terrible names he suggests for himself.
They make it halfway through Oregon before stopping for the night at a shitty motel just on the edge of a small town. In the quiet hours of night Nathaniel starts to answer Andrew’s questions with more honesty than Andrew had expected from him.
Andrew learns that he’s 23 and spent most of his childhood years homeschooled in his house in Baltimore. Nathaniel refers to it as a prison and Andrew can’t help but agree when he admits in quiet reverence that his father is more like a monster than a human being.
He learns that Nathaniel isn’t just making things up as he goes, that he has a methodical way of running away that his mother taught him. Never stay in one place for too long, never stay the same person, always change your appearance when you can, never look back, never go to the same place twice. He’s lucky that there are so many places to hide in this country, places where he can lay low and stay hidden without anyone questioning him.
Even if he knows what he’s doing, or at least knows the bare bones of survival from his mother’s teachings, years of preparing him for life on the run, Nathaniel is truly a disaster waiting to happen. He can’t seem to make up his mind about where he wants to go, or who he wants to be, he throws out name ideas with the wind and changes his mind day to day about settling on his next appearance.
He has an attitude ten times too big for his body and he isn’t afraid to talk himself into a corner, especially when the person involved, specifically a gas attendant they ran into a few towns over, deserves to be berated a little.
Andrew isn’t one for attachments, he lives the way he lives for a reason, because it’s easier to come and go without anyone waiting for him, without someone to expect him to come back. But knowing that he could drop Nathaniel off and never see him again, not knowing if he will ever figure out a name or a new face or a destination, sets an unsettling feeling in Andrew’s stomach.
Which is why he’s uneasy as they sit parked at a bus stop right across the Nevada border. Nathaniel is looking over bus lines and destinations with a finger tapping against his lip in a messy rhythm. Andrew leans against the Maserati and tries to convince himself that leaving Nathaniel behind is for the best. They don’t know each other, they have only spent a handful of days together, and that’s not enough to ask someone to stay.
So he watches while Nathaniel makes up some type of plan, his free hand reaches out and starts bouncing between two destinations. Andrew has the sudden realization that he’s whispering eenie meenie miney moe under his breath while he taps away. He’s a disaster, truly a mess of a person that will never make it out of Nevada without getting himself arrested or hit by a car.
Andrew taps his foot against the pavement. He considers just getting in his car and driving away, just leaving Nathaniel behind and never thinking about him again. But then Nathaniel finishes his tapping and looks over his shoulder at Andrew, his eyes flashing the same bright blue as the sky and Andrew’s heart clenches painfully and he wishes that it wouldn’t. He wishes that he could just push it all aside and tell Nathaniel to get on the next bus to whatever location he just randomly selected using a child’s game.
Nathaniel steps away from the board and stops right in front of Andrew just a breath away from touching, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his ridiculous half destroyed tennis shoes.
“What?” Andrew asks.
“I’m going to head to Salt Lake City,” Nathaniel says, “It was between there and Sacramento but Salt Lake City won in the end.”
Andrew lets out a deep sigh and the words good luck are on the tip of his tongue followed by have a nice life but he can’t seem to find the ability to say it outloud, just stares and waits for Nathaniel to say something else.
“Thanks,” Nathaniel says, “For helping me out when you didn’t have to. It means a lot. Hopefully we can run into each other again someday.”
He waits patiently for Andrew to reply. His eyes wide and genuine and Andrew has half the mind to give him a hard push and watch him crumble.
Andrew doesn’t touch him. He just crosses his arms and stands up straight.
“Get in the car,” Andrew says suddenly and without explanation.
“What?” Nathaniel asks, confused.
“Get in the car, idiot,” Andrew repeats. He walks to the driver’s side door and pulls his keys out. Getting in without waiting for an answer.
Nathaniel scrambles to follow him. Getting into the car and buckling himself in.
“What is happening?” Nathaniel asks his voice laced with confusion, “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to an old mining town about 30 miles out,” Andrew says, “And then on to Utah.”
“You’re driving me to Salt Lake City?” Nathaniel asks.
“No,” Andrew says, “I’m bringing you nowhere.”
Nathaniel falls quiet and Andrew doesn’t bother to look and check his reaction. He just pulls out onto the quiet highway and starts their journey to the next destination.
They make it 30 minutes in tense silence, Andrew not knowing how to say he’s bringing Nathaniel along for as long he wants to stay, and Nathaniel not knowing how to react.
The silence breaks when they cross the town border, the road ahead of them stretching out like a never ending winding path with no real destination in sight.
“What about Peter?” Nathaniel asks quietly.
It’s so ridiculous that Andrew can’t help but laugh.
****
The mining town in Nevada isn’t much to write home about. It’s dusty and most of the remaining structures are half crumbled, but the saloon is almost perfectly intact and for the first time in Andrew’s entire career he ends up taking a photo of an actual person. He photographs Nathaniel standing behind the bar with a bright grin on his face and Andrew sort of hates how well Nathaniel fits into the space around him, messy and unkempt just like himself.
They stay well into the night and Andrew shows Nathaniel how to set the lights for photographing in darkness. Andrew doesn’t miss the way Nathaniel checks over his shoulder every couple of seconds, as if someone is going to emerge from the shadows and grab hold of him. So Andrew doesn’t hold it against him for staying close by, just out of arm’s reach, the quiet comfort is something that Nathaniel needs and Andrew has turned into the fool that will do anything to make sure he’s happy.
It’s been less than a week, Andrew reminds himself over and over and over again. Less than a week and he would set half of the continental US ablaze if it meant that Nathaniel could just keep smiling the way he does when Andrew rejects his name ideas or calls him an idiot but never calls him Nathaniel.
They get a motel a few miles out and Andrew sits on his bed and writes up his articles, catalogues his photos, and edits. Nathaniel is a ball of chaotic energy on the bed next to him, bouncing from one end to another, turning on the noisy mattress vibrator and nearly shimmying straight off the bed at the violent quakes. At one point he turns on the TV and watches the shitty reruns of old shows that play, the screen twitching with poor quality and the sound quiet enough that it doesn’t serve to distract Andrew from his work.
“How about the name Kip?” Nathaniel asks, he points at the person on the screen and says, “See?” He points back at his own face, “See the resemblance?”
“There is no resemblance,” Andrew replies, looking over the edge of his computer, “You don’t look like any of the names you keep spewing out.”
“What do I look like then?” Nathaniel asks, he crawls across the edge of his bed and hopes over to Andrew's making Andrew jump up slightly and have to grab hold of his computer and camera so that nothing topples over.
“You look like a runaway,” Andrew replies, “A stray dog or a feral rabbit.”
Nathaniel smiles and crosses his legs, tucking his fists below his chin and watching Andrew with his blue eyes dancing with amusement.
“Go on,” He says.
Andrew sighs and saves his document. It’s practically done anyway and he can work on it tomorrow or the next time they stop. Nathaniel leans closer and looks over the side of Andrew’s computer, watching him as he starts a google search for names.
A baby name website pops up and Andrew opens it, turning the computer so Neil can get a good view.
“Trending names,” Nathaniel reads outloud, “Theodore.” He gives Andrew a look that suggests he thinks it’s a good name and Andrew shoots him down with a shake of his head.
“Wonder if there are names that mean idiot or nuisance,” Andrew suggests, turning the computer and scrolling through a never ending list that starts with A. Nathaniel leans back against the pillows next to Andrew and watches.
“That’s just mean,” Nathaniel says with mock insult. They quietly read through the list and Andrew can’t seem to find even one that fits a chaotic but paranoid person like Nathaniel.
“I didn’t realize it would be so hard,” Nathaniel says, “You know, finding a new name. Starting over.”
“You’re never going to be able to start over with those people still chasing you,” Andrew says and when Nathaniel gives him an annoyed look he continues with, “It’s true.”
“What about you then, oh wise one,” Nathaniel says, “What are you avoiding out here? No one just travels around and takes photos for the rest of their lives without being on the run from something.”
Andrew thinks about Aaron and all of the missed calls and the engagement party that happened a few days ago that he completely ignored. If he ever sees Nicky again he knows he’ll be in trouble but at this rate seeing his family is as unattainable as Nathaniel finding a new name.
“I have a brother,” Andrew admits, “A twin.”
“Oh my god,” Nathaniel says, “Identical?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Are you running from him because he’s the more successful brother? Is it jealousy? Or, no is it because he stole the love of your life?” Nathaniel spits out quickly. Andrew just glares at him.
“Do you watch a lot of daytime television?” Andrew asks.
Nathaniel shrugs. “It’s all they have at most shitty motels.”
He sits up and leans on his elbow, looking at Andrew seriously.
“Why are you running from your brother?” He asks, all hints of teasing are gone and now Andrew is left with a serious question and a serious answer.
Because this is easier. Because he never forgave me for what I did to his mother. Because he never appreciated all of the shit I did for him. Because I can’t say I’m sorry.
“We don’t get along,” Andrew says, leaving it as cryptic as possible.
Nathaniel groans and falls back into the pillows behind them. The bed creaks as he moves and Andrew has to move his phone out of the way so that it doesn’t get lost under Nathaniel’s side.
“You’re so cryptic,” Nathaniel complains.
Andrew just nudges him with his elbow and points back to the computer screen.
“Keep looking,” Andrew says, “You’ll find one eventually.”
****
They leave the motel the next day and Nathaniel forces them to stop at a tourist trap shop on the side of the highway. He pulls an unreasonable amount of money from his duffel bag and Andrew forces the majority of it back and lets him take 60 dollars inside. They end up leaving with an “I heart Nevada” t-shirt, matching red sunglasses, a bag full of snacks, and a hand made dream catcher than Nathaniel immediately hangs below the rearview mirror.
They stop at a motel on the Nevada-Utah line where Andrew finishes his articles and then lets Nathaniel retell him the entire story of “Days of Our Lives” but completely out of order and with no real grasp on any of the characters' names.
That night Nathaniel confesses that his father killed his mother the day before he ran away and Andrew confesses to swerving Tilda’s car off the road with intentions of harm.
Nathaniel doesn’t even blink at the confession. He asks if she deserved it. Andrew says yes. Nathaniel believes him.
They drive into Utah and stop at a motel that has themed rooms. They end up in the “Pioneer” room with obnoxious wallpaper that depicts the old wild west and Nathaniel forces him to look up names for old cowboys to see if any will fit. They don’t, but that doesn’t stop Nathaniel from suggesting that Andrew calls him Beau instead of idiot.
They make it to the old abandoned farm town in Utah and Andrew takes photos while Nathaniel lets himself into every single one of the old buildings.
He climbs his way up to the top of the barn and looks down over the old corral and Andrew feels a sense of vertigo just from watching him, even if he’s standing on solid ground.
The wind whips Nathaniel’s hair in every direction, he raises his arms up and closes his eyes, looking like he’s one strong gust of wind away from being blown straight into the pearly blue sky.
Andrew watches him and then takes his photo, his camera shutter fluttering. When he pulls the camera down he finds that Nathaniel has opened his eyes again, his arms falling back down to his sides. Remaining right in front of Andrew instead of flying away.
When he smiles Andrew feels his heart restrict and not for the first time Andrew realizes just how much he would give to keep that smile on Nathaniel’s face, to watch his lips curl and his cheeks bend, to watch his face flush a pretty red that matches the roots of his hair that are starting to grow in.
It’s a startling sensation, realizing just how much Andrew is willing to give away for him. But then he remembers that Nathaniel has never had anyone on his side before, not even his mother in the worst of times, so Andrew thinks that maybe he can give more than anyone else before and more than anyone else that is yet to come.
****
They stay in a motel in Utah for a full week. In that time, Andrew convinces Nathaniel to shave his hair and shed the decaying brown color that came from using peroxide. He looks more put together with a clean shave and it starts to grow considerably faster than it had before, his hair now healthy and a bright auburn that burns like the setting sun. Just like it did in the photos Andrew had taken in Oregon.
Nathaniel confesses to hating his natural coloring because he looks so much like his father and Andrew pushes those fears aside by rubbing at the fuzz on the top of his head and telling him that he looks like him rather than anyone else.
Andrew’s boss sends a new series of assignments the day before they leave. A failed skiing lodge in Colorado is their next destination and then after that they will move on to a broken down amusement park on the Colorado-Kansas border. There are no plans after that and there is no set destination. There was once a time between jobs, where Andrew had been so far ahead of the curve that he ended up staying in the same motel for well over a month before something came up.
He hopes it doesn’t come to that again. Nathaniel is restless in that he’s constantly bouncing from one place to another but also checking over his shoulder every few seconds, checking the rear view mirror, staring at strangers and keeping his head low when they’re in public.
They never talk about when Nathaniel will leave and go on his own and it’s never implied that he wants to go his own way. Andrew doesn’t bring it up, because Andrew doesn’t want to be the one to admit that he hopes Nathaniel will stay, for as long as he wishes, and a part of him wants that to be a very long time.
Wanting is very dangerous, especially when Nathaniel won’t be around forever. Especially when he has people hunting him down and someday they will either catch up to them or Nathaniel will have to run where Andrew can’t follow.
The feeling in his chest whenever he sees Nathaniel is starting to make sense. It’s longing. A feeling that he hasn’t had since he was naive enough to think that there was something good out there waiting for him. He longed for a home, for a family, and now he longs for something else entirely, after not wanting anything for so long, it’s an uncomfortable and irritating feeling to have reappear suddenly.
They leave the motel and stop at a gas station that isn’t too far out. Andrew purchases a couple of magazines, including the latest edition of Abandoned America that has one of his photos featured on the cover. He gives all of the magazines to Nathaniel, who picks through and blurts out names that Andrew constantly shoots down. The most offensive recently being Chad and the only one that might have fit him the tiniest bit being Noah.
When they’re at the skiing lodge Nathaniel goes through the old sign-in book and pokes around while Andrew takes photos. Colorado is cold and the wind is chilly and it catches Andrew off guard and he ends up picking up a pair of scarves at a gas station near their motel so that he can ensure that neither of them will be catching any cold related illness.
Nathaniel looks bundled and comfortable in the blue scarf Andrew handed him. He sifts through the sign-in book and suddenly stops, his finger reaching out to trace of a name over and over again.
“Josten,” He says outloud. Andrew walks over and leans against the counter at his side, looking down at the name Josten, Sigmund that looks up at him.
“That’s a last name,” Andrew comments.
Nathaniel shrugs and then gives him a winning smile, the kind that’s brighter than any sunset that Andrew has ever photographed. “It’s my last name.”
He sounds so sure of himself and so proud of his self-discovery that Andrew is half tempted to kiss the smile off his face, taste his pure joy for what it is without any restrictions. Andrew has to pull himself back and step away before he lets the thought take any ground. He doesn’t know if Nathaniel even swings, let alone if he would want to kiss someone like Andrew. Someone whose entire past is a pot of dark secrets and horror.
Nathaniel doesn’t notice the indecision on Andrew’s face. He just keeps smiling and then says Josten again with great reverence. Andrew turns to walk away but he reaches out and drags his hand across Nathaniel’s lower back as he goes, not bothering to look back and check his reaction.
They set up the lights outside and take photos of the broken down lift. Nathaniel tries to climb up onto one of the benches but Andrew drags him back down with a hand on his hoodie and a scowl on his face.
When they finally pack up the car to leave they’re both tired and hungry, sore from walking the hills and climbing the never ending staircases inside the lodge.
They’re in an area with more accommodations, and Andrew is sore enough that he wants to sleep on a real bed for once in his life, so they find a hotel in the town over and Nathaniel shells out a bit of extra money so they can have two soft beds with extra blankets and room service.
Andrew uploads his photos and writes out his notes for the article. Nathaniel lays out next to him in the bed, watching with half-lidded eyes as Andrew starts to sift through the photos he’s taken. It’s quiet and for once Andrew doesn’t feel the need to fill the space with awkward conversation. Nathaniel turns onto his side and nudges his forehead against Andrew’s elbow. Without thinking too much about it, Andrew raises his arm and lets him slip through the small space, resting his head against Andrew’s thigh.
His breathing evens out and soon enough Nathaniel is asleep on top of him. Andrew absently runs a hand over the soft peach fuzz and listens as he takes in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, jostling Andrew’s arm with each breath.
No work gets finished that night. Andrew ends up closing his laptop and moving Nathaniel around so he’s sleeping against the pillows at the top of the bed. Andrew lays down next to him and just stares, his face unaffected by the day to day when he’s laying like this, sleeping and peaceful.
Andrew wishes he could keep this moment frozen in time for the rest of his life. Even with his eidetic memory it wouldn’t be the same as being here in the moment. Nathaniel lets out a quiet sigh in his sleep and leans a bit closer into Andrew’s space, unconsciously seeking out his warmth and Andrew let’s him, because he wants to feel it just as much.
****
They find a place to stay for a few weeks that won’t end up costing them an arm and a leg. It’s close enough to the next destination that they’ll be able to come and go as they please. The amusement park is bit enough to warrant more than one trip and Andrew isn’t as keen on sleeping inside the Maserati with another body. There isn’t enough space as it is and Nathaniel has gotten into the habit of falling asleep curled up by Andrew’s side, even if there is a whole other bed in the room with them.
Somehow Andrew went from being completely alone to have a shadow that likes to talk back and climb into dangerous situations and pose for photos without having to ask Andrew if it’s okay. He went from being alone to having Nathaniel sleeping in bed next to him and having it be a comfort rather than something he fears.
He’s changed. Which is why he picks up his phone and texts Aaron to ask him how the engagement party went.
Aaron doesn’t reply right away but Andrew knows he read the message. He doesn’t wait for a reply and doesn’t convince himself that one will come any time soon. But it is a start. An olive branch. Andrew has never been one to say he’s sorry, he doesn’t believe in regret and doesn’t think that there is any need to apologize for the things that he has done, but he knows that Aaron wants to hear it. Maybe they can compromise, find common ground where there had been nothing but landmines before.
Nathaniel suggests the names Daniel, Joey, Jake, and Seth. All of which get shot down. Andrew ends up writing a list down of the names that are least offensive, and at this point there are only two and the list doesn’t grow nearly as much as Nathaniel hoped that it would.
Andrew finishes up the last day of the amusement park shoot, they clear the lights and put the equipment back in the car, using flashlights as their only guide through the dark park.
When they get back to the motel they go straight to the lobby to get snacks from the vending machine and coffee from the keurig that sits by the front desk. Nathaniel has one eye on the TV as he waits for his coffee to brew and Andrew leans against the counter beside him, picking away at a bag of M&M’s and handing one off to Nathaniel every once in a while.
The TV changes over to a national news station. They mention the weather and warn that there will be snow coming in the mountains but the rest of Colorado will see nothing but clear skies. Andrew watches Nathaniel’s face as the news switches over to current events. He sees the moment his expression falls, his mouth opening with shock.
“Andrew,” Nathaniel says softly. He nudges Andrew with his arm and nods towards the TV.
On the screen there is an image of a much younger Nathaniel, dressed in a dress suit and a smile that pulls too much in one direction, forced and awkward. Andrew’s eyes narrow and he listens as the message comes across the screen.
“Reports from Washington suggest that Nathaniel Wesninski, the twenty three year old that has gone missing from his home in Baltimore, has been seen. If you come into contact with this young man or anyone that looks like him we suggest you call our tip hotline immediately. His family is worried that he has been taken against his will or that he is a danger to himself or others around him.”
Andrew blocks out the rest of the announcement and looks back to Nathaniel, whose face is stricken with too many complicated emotions. Andrew looks to the Motel worker behind the counter who is pointedly looking from the photo on the TV down to Nathaniel.
“We have to go,” Andrew says under his breath, but Nathaniel is frozen stock still, his arms shaking violently. Andrew reaches out and touches him, a soothing brush of his Nathaniel’s forearm. “Come on,” Andrew insists, “Let’s go.”
The motel worker reaches for the phone just as Andrew is able to tug Nathaniel out of the motel lobby and out into the parking lot. Andrew forces him into the car and goes back to the motel room to get their things, packing up his computer and equipment and dragging them out with Nathaniel’s duffel bag hanging from his shoulder.
They leave and don’t look back but the haunting moment doesn’t leave Nathaniel alone. He shakes the entire car ride until they’re in Kansas and doesn’t stop when Andrew pulls over at a rest area when he’s too tired to keep going.
“Look at me,” Andrew says, leaning into Nathaniel’s space and attempting to get the fear out of his eyes, “Look at me. It’s okay.”
“They’re going to get me,” Nathaniel spits out, his voice hoarse, “They’ll tell everyone I’m crazy and then the cops will have to just take me in if I resist. They’ll force me back to that house. My father will kill me.”
“He won’t,” Andrew says, “I won’t let him.”
“You can’t stop him,” Nathaniel says, finally looking up and meeting Andrew’s eyes. There are no tears but his eyes are glazed over with the ghost of them. “He’s dangerous.”
“I won’t let him take you,” Andrew promises, “We will figure something out.”
“There is nothing to figure out,” Nathaniel says, “I’m a dead man walking. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Do you have anyone you can call?” Andrew asks, “Anyone you trust?”
Nathaniel goes quiet and looks down at his hands that are currently curled up in his lap. Andrew reaches out without stopping himself, taking one of his hands into his own and giving it a light squeeze.
“I can call my uncle,” Nathaniel confesses, “But my mom told me to stay away from him.”
“I think you’re out of options,” Andrew says, “You either call your uncle or you go to the cops and I don’t trust pigs as far as I can throw them.”
Nathaniel finally looks up from their clasped hands and meets Andrew’s eyes, the blue is storming with unnamed emotions that Andrew can’t identify. Nathaniel stares and stares until he says, “What about Neil?”
“What?” Andrew asks, confused.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Nathaniel says, “Neil. That’s what’s left when you take my father away.”
Andrew goes quiet and thinks it over. Stares at the man in front of him and wonders if Neil is the name that fits.
“Neil,” Andrew says, testing it on his lips, realizing that it tastes like clarity.
“Neil,” Neil repeats and then he’s smiling, “I’m done running.”
“Then let’s stop running,” Andrew says. And he realizes how it sounds as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He wants to stop running. From Aaron from Nicky from life. He wants to find a place to go back to, even if it’s imperfect or a mess. He wants a place that’s just his.
“Okay,” Neil whispers. He leans forward and Andrew decides to take one more leap of faith and meets him halfway.
Kissing Neil tastes like saying his new name for the first time. Tastes like clarity, feels like a puzzle piece falling into place, feels like a finally and home.
When they pull away both of their lips are swollen and Neil’s face is flashing red the same color as his growing hair. Andrew reaches out with his free hand and runs his fingers through the soft fuzz on the back of Neil’s head.
“Neil Josten,” Andrew says outloud. And the smile he receives in reply is more than anything Andrew could have ever hoped for.
****
In the end it’s anticlimactic. Neil calls his uncle Stuart and tells him what’s going on. Andrew strains to hear the other half of the conversation, all he can make out is Stuart’s accent and the occasional fuck said loud enough to burst someone’s eardrums.
When Neil hangs up he looks relieved and a bit unsure of himself.
“He said he’ll take care of it,” Neil says, “And that he’ll be in touch.”
“What do you want to do?” Andrew asks, because he knows what he wants but doesn’t know if it’s the same as what Neil needs.
“I want to keep going,” Neil says, “I have all the time in the world now it seems.”
“Then we keep going,” Andrew says, he stands up from the motel bed and stretches out his arms and legs. Neil shuffles over and kneels on the bed in front of him, his eyes thoughtful.
“What?” Andrew asks, he reaches out and places his hands on Neil’s neck, leaning down to steal one kiss off of him before pulling away.
“You said we would stop running,” Neil says. Andrew nods. “That means you too. I think it’s time you visited your brother.”
Andrew waits for the feeling of unease to settle in his chest but he finds that it no longer exists. He nods in agreement.
“It’s time,” He says.
Neil leans forward and kisses him and they get lost in each other for minutes and then hours until time is nothing but the long stretched out road in front of them that originally had no final destination but is now starting to lead straight to home.
****
Chicago stresses Andrew out. He waits outside of Aaron’s new apartment, the apartment he shares with his fiance and debates if he should just turn around and go back to the motel where Neil is waiting for him. It is the easier option, easier than confronting his entire past and hoping that he can make amends. Even if it isn’t perfect, Andrew realizes that he doesn’t want the weight of Aaron’s hatred to be something he carries for the rest of his life.
This has to be enough.
He finally steps away from the curb and the Maserati and stops short of the apartment call bell. He finds Minyard on the list and hits the button next to his name, waiting impatiently for there to be a response.
“Hello?” Comes the crackly reply. Andrew recognizes his voice immediately. He sighs in relief that it wasn’t the fiance who answered.
“Aaron,” Andrew says, “It’s me.”
The door buzzes and Andrew lets himself into the building. He climbs the three floors up to Aaron’s apartment and knocks on the door before he loses his nerve.
Aaron answers a moment later, looking like he always does, dark circles under his eyes from working so much, hair sticking up in every direction, his expression twisted into a hard glare.
“Aaron,” Andrew says as a way of greeting.
“Andrew,” Aaron says back.
They stand there in silence and Andrew doesn’t know if he should make the first move or if he should wait for Aaron to invite him inside. The silence lasts far longer than it should. Aaron lets out a breath and steps back, opening the door so that Andrew can step inside.
The apartment is clean and well kept and full of photographs on every surface. Andrew lived with Aaron for a long time, not long enough to be anything more than acquaintances, but long enough to know that this isn’t his decorating skills taking over the apartment.
“Why are you here?” Aaron asks, he sounds resigned, tired, and Andrew wants to shake him until he starts yelling instead. Anger Andrew can handle, but the disappointment and sadness is another beast entirely.
“I’ve been told that I keep running from my problems,” Andrew says, thinking about Neil who's probably sitting in front of the TV with a horrible daytime soap opera playing over the sound of the trains. “I’m trying to fix that.”
Aaron gives him a hard look and then his expression softens, finding whatever he was looking for in Andrew’s eyes.
“You could have called,” Aaron offers, his voice laced with just a hint of amusement.
“Like you would have answered,” Andrew says. Aaron lets out a huff of a laugh and it sounds better than anger or sadness, it sounds like a step in the right direction.
“You missed my engagement party,” Aaron says, “Katelyn was so pissed that she threw away your Save the Date.”
“I’m not surprised,” Andrew says, and then adds, “I won’t apologize.”
Aaron rolls his eyes and lets out a soft sigh. “I know you won’t,” He says, “But this,” He points at Andrew and then down at the floor, “Is a start.”
Andrew can’t help but agree.
****
The motel in Chicago is nothing like the places where they have stayed before. The parking lot is packed and there is a small crowd standing out front, smoking cigarettes and talking. Andrew ignores them as he walks to his room, pulling out his key and letting himself in.
The room is dark, the curtains pulled shut. For a second Andrew’s heart spikes with paranoia, the intimate fear that Neil packed up his bags and left while Andrew was visiting his brother.
Andrew isn’t afraid of the dark but for the first time this darkness is something that scares him. A future that doesn’t have Neil in it, a rising sun among the blank slate that is Andrew’s entire life.
He flicks the light switch on the wall and the room comes into stark brightness, Andrew blinks against the dark spots that formed in his eyes and looks around.
Neil is laid out in one of the beds, stomach first, with his face hidden between two pillows. Andrew feels the tightness in his chest lighten considerably. He lets out a deep breath and goes to join him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and kicking off his shoes.
He doesn’t mean to fall asleep but when he wakes up again it’s to the setting sun and the sound of Neil humming and moving around the motel room. Andrew looks over in time to see that Neil’s wearing Andrew’s pants, that are loose and hang low on his hips, and a t-shirt that is hanging low and showing off his exposed collarbones.
Neil looks better than the first day that Andrew met him, covered in mud and bruised like a rotten apple. His face has filled out and he doesn’t look like he’s one step away from falling over. Neil’s eyes catch Andrew’s from across the room. He smiles and the light that Neil placed in the center of Andrew’s chest, unintentionally, burns brighter and brighter.
“Good morning,” Neil says, “Well, good afternoon. How did it go?”
Andrew sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t even taken off his winter coat before falling into bed and now the sheets are a bit wet from the flecks of snow that had caught on him while he was outside.
“It was fine,” Andrew says, “One meeting isn’t going to fix everything.”
“But it’s a start,” Neil offers.
Andrew nods in agreement and says, “It’s a start.”
He watches Neil filter around the room and search through his duffel bag until he has his phone in his hand. He steps over to the edge of the bed and Andrew reaches out to place his hands on his hips, holding him steady.
“Any news?” Andrew asks.
Neil opens his ancient flip phone, a phone that Andrew really, really needs to convince him to replace and holds up the tiny screen so Andrew can see the message that is waiting for him.
It’s done.
Andrew lets out a breath and Neil’s smile bursts across his face like a brush fire, taking over all of his features, his eyes crinkling with sheer joy at just two words.
“He’s dead?” Andrew asks.
Neil nods. “All of them.”
Andrew pulls him over the edge of the bed and can’t stop the smile from pulling at his lips when Neil lets out a startled laugh as he tumbles over Andrew and falls face first into the pillows.
He pulls back far enough to look Andrew in the eye and smiles, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Thank you,” Neil says, “For finding me.”
Andrew leans up and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.
“Thank you,” Andrew replies, but doesn’t say for what. Neil already knows, Andrew can see the knowing look in those crystal clear blue eyes.
“I know,” Neil says, and then leans down to kiss him and against Andrew's lips he whispers, “I know.”