Tag: aaron minyard

A concept: Kevin Day and Aaron Minyard talking mad shit about Andrew and Neil. Kevin talking about how he’s sick of Andrew “pretending” he doesn’t care about Exy and then Aaron replying, “I’d take that over Neil eye fucking the court every day”

frxnkenstein-deactivated2018061:

i….love this….so much oh my god ok

  • so andrew and neil are on one of theyre “this is nothing but we go on weekend trips together to makeout” things 
  • so kevin needs to practice bc he’s Extra™ and…he’s still having a little trouble relaxing without andrew around all the time
    • andrew gave aaron a look before he left that aaron knows means to watch out for kevin
  • aaron’s complete disinterest manages to deter kevin from practice for two full days
    • never underestimate aaron’s ability to be stubborn to spite someone else ok
  • but finally FINALLy it’s not kevin’s incessant bitching that gets aaron to go to the court with him 
  • it’s aaron getting back from classes and not getting immediately bombarded with requests to go to the court
  • it’s coming home to a silent kevin staring out the window, rubbing his scars
  • aaron sighs deep to hide the fact that he’s concerned and changes into light workout clothes and grabs kevin
  • he also ignores how much kevin lights up when they turn onto the street of the foxhole court
    • this is an example of aaron “im not allowed to feel anything at all ever” minyard
    • also an example of aaron “knows where matt keeps a spare key to his truck” minyard
  • at first aaron refuses to practice with kevin
  • but he “gets bored” or whatever he likes to tell himself
    • see, aaron actually likes exy. he likes the way he can channel all his frustrations into it. he spends so much time studying and trying to figure out his brother and trying to figure out what the hell he wants from his life so sometimes he just needs to run around and knock people on their asses, ok?
    • its also pretty much the only times he can remember connecting with andrew
  • kevin is, like always, completely immersed, and barely notices aaron getting on the court until he walks by him to block his way to the goal
    • kevin’s on the courts because he can breathe there. he’s on the court because its where is mother put him. its the only place he mattered after she died, where he felt like a living thing rather than an asset. 
    • he’s there because even though he’s happy for andrew and neil, he really is, he’s still figuring out how to stand on his own. the court’s been the only place he really felt he could do that. 
  • now aaron may be on the court
  • he may have come to be there for kevin shut kevin up
  • but you best believe he’s gonna bitch about it
  • “fine, i’ll go, but i’m gonna complain the whole time” yea that’s aaron
  • after like one snide comment though Bitchy Kevin comes out to fuckin play and it goes a little something like:
    • kevin: andrew knows he’s good but does he try? of course not. see, that’d be fucking easy. that’d be simple. nothing is simple with him. *cue kevin taking an unnecessarily forceful shot on goal*
    • aaron: and don’t even get me started on neil just asking him for things. are you kidding. andrew doesn’t do anything ever at all and neil just??? asks him??? and he does it???
    • kevin: I KNOW. AS IF I HAVEN’T BEEN MAKING SIMPLE REQUESTS FOREVER.
    • (both of them are secretly wondering why they don’t bitch to each other more often)
  • the best part though, is when aaron is at the height of his rant and says, “You know, i don’t even want to do extra practice, but I’d take this over Neil eye fucking the court every goddamn day”
  • kevin just fucking breaks like he drops his racquet and everything
  • aaron hasn’t ever seen kevin laugh???? its kind of beautiful surprising??
  • kevin gets a hold of himself and wow
  • he doesn’t think he’s ever seen aaron smile he’s surprised how much he likes it
  • after that kevin’s feeling better 
  • they head back to the dorms and play video games for a while, order food. just kinda hang out
  • nothings really changed, per se, but….things are definitely different. 
    • more often than not now kevin will just go to the library to watch his taped games with headphones on while aaron studies, occasionally getting kicked in the shin when he gets too excited
    • when neither of them want to sleep because they know its one of those days they’ll have nightmares they go to the library’s 24 hr lounge and eat shitty microwave ramen (aaron is sworn to secrecy…no one can know kevin loves creamy chicken ramen) and try to teach each other bio or history
    • aaron only had a mother who hurt him growing up, and kevin only had the memory of his mother and people who hurt him growing up . without saying anything, they just understand.
  • in conclusion because aaron is accidentally really funny, kevin and him get a lot closer, which is good, cause they both kinda needed it
  • they wouldnt say they were friends, or are friends, but…maybe its a little “nothing” of their own

nickyklose:

nickyklose:

Aaron “who needs therapy when you can hurtle your tiny 5‘0 person into another human being with all of your might” Minyard 

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@foxes-evermore I almost cried reading these, I’m just picturing him going from sitting quietly on his bed to half way across the room sitting on matt’s rib cage in a single leap. this is the real reason he walks away from nicky. nicky knows when to move away and aaron just ends up sore and even more pissy

i. I might have switchblade fingers and a barb-wired mouth,
but don’t think for one second
that you’re so far removed from the likes of me.
Come off that tall pedestal where you sit,
all high and mighty and deserving.
Come join me in the gutter— join me where we really belong.
We’re Minyards, remember?
And Minyards don’t get higher than rock bottom.
What? Does it hurt to hear me say it?
Look me in the eyes, brother, I’ll say it again:
We’re Minyards.
And Minyards don’t get higher than rock bottom.
An entire childhood apart doesn’t mean anything,
can’t defer DNA or change who we are.
We share so many things already— Just look at our faces.
Study the sharp angles we share,
the laugh we mirror,
the nightmares we divvy up.
We’re not so different, you and I.
Me, with my barb-wired mouth.
You, with your salt-rimmed lips.
My gasoline voice is perfect
for your wildfire words.
We’re the perfect match
for a world on fire.
Now climb down from your high horse, brother.
You’re not as great as you pretend to be.
You’re a Minyard.
And Minyards aren’t good for anything
other than showing the rest of the world
what a bad influence looks like.
ii. ( But while we were busy lighting the world on fire,
we didn’t notice that we were burning in our own wake.
You can feel it, too, can’t you?
Tell me you can feel it, too. )

iii. I won’t try to make you understand.
I know when I’m preaching to the choir,
and this is not a conversation I will ever be willing to have with you.
You can’t change how people are.
But, I will say this:
I see the way you look at her when you think people aren’t looking.
( I see it, because I’ve been there, too. )
There’s a softness in your eyes that wasn’t there before;
a warmth in your laughter
that I’m sure not even you have heard in years.
I think you’ve been lost for a while now,
and you might have stumbled upon someone
that you can comfortably call Home.
She’s something holy to you, this seraphic being,
but even you’re confused,
because you didn’t consider yourself religious before she came along.
She’s everything light and pure and good and—
You’re scared. You’re so scared.
When you’re scared, you touch the ring resting on your finger.
You might not notice it, but I do.
That ring means safety for you. She means safety for you. 
She’s a promise for better, happier days.
It’s like she’s a candle,
And you’re afraid of the dark.
And oh, how terrified of the night you are.
( I know. I know, because I’ve been there, too. )
I won’t try to make you understand.
But I know how that feels.
I know how you feel, Aaron.
And he does, too.
I won’t get in the way of your happiness.
Do me a favor and don’t get in the way of mine.

iv. You’re not afraid of telling people how you feel.
( Except, that’s not true at all, is it? )
No, you’re terrified of letting people in.
You’re a boy with a wolf trapped in your chest,
and it’s growling and snapping at your ribcage,
spilling blood and moving organs around.
( I know. )
( I know, because I’ve been there, too. )
I can see it sometimes.
It shows in your eyes on Wednesday afternoons.
Flashes over your face before you reach for pills or dust or booze.
Always drowning it out,
always looking for a distraction,
a coupe de grâce,
a deliverance from evil.
You’ve got this wild thing inside you.
But instead of asking for help, you just say,
“I’m tired. Just tired. Just tired.”
Nod and smile.
Sell the lie.
“Just tired. Just tired.”
You’re being mauled from the inside out.
You’re being torn to pieces and you don’t even care.
I think it’s time to start acting like you do.

v. ( I’m sorry, too. 
More than I can express with words.
We deserved better.
We deserved so much better. )

Five Things Andrew Wants To Tell Aaron (But Never Will), Cont. from x, (via deadravenkings)

i. I absolutely cannot stand the snares of your hands,
or how I catch myself on your barbed wire mouth,
when I choke on your gasoline voice,
or cut myself on your switchblade fingers.
I loathe these weapons of yours more than I loathe the actual tangible knifes you keep hidden under your sleeves.
I hate that somebody did something so awful to you that you were forced to wear hatred as a second skin.
I hate myself more that I wasn’t there to shield you from it.

ii. I wonder how different our lives would be if we had been switched.
Me: Andrew.
You: Aaron.
Me: Given up on.
You: Kept.
Would everything turn out the same? Would we have led completely different lives? Would we be broken again? Made whole?
(Would she have hit you, too?)
(Would he have used me, too?)

iii. I hear the way people talk about you when you’re not there.
Like you’re this awful thing.
Like they’ve taken a bite out of you and realized you’ve gone bad in the middle.
When they speak, they’re trying to get the taste of you out of their mouths,
Spitting and spitting until there’s nothing left to expel.
Sometimes I want to say something.
Sometimes I want to argue.
But we come from the same batch, after all.
How can I argue when I taste just as bad as you do?

iv. I went to the Circle K around the corner one night and bought myself a pack of cigarettes: the same brand you use.
I stood outside and popped one in my mouth,
lit it with unpracticed hands.
I had seen you do this so often,
I thought maybe it would come almost naturally, like I had been the one catching fire to things all these years instead of you.
But the weight of it felt so wrong between my fingers,
the motions unfitting for me,
the taste acidic and raw and awful.
It reminded me too much of him—of that stray dog that follows you around all day—and less like you,
less like home.
I’m trying to understand this. I’m trying to be okay with you-and-him.
But there are some things that people shouldn’t get in the way of. This was one of them.
The box cost $7.89 and screamed your name. I didn’t even hesitate when I threw it away.

v. Every once and a while I’ll dream about that night.
Sometimes it’s me instead of you, or I can’t move at all and I’m forced to watch, or I beat him over and over but he keeps getting back up.
Either way, the entire time you’re just laughing.
Like I told a joke and you think it’s the funniest thing in the world.
I’m beating him to death and sloshing his blood around and you’re laughing like you’re at a comedy show.
Whenever I wake up from those dreams, I never want to sleep ever again.

vi. I never understand our fights.
Normal people throw around words they don’t mean and slam doors they would usually leave ajar.
But us?
We fight like our lives are on the line.
We fight like it’s a race and there’s only one winner.
You leave me aching and I leave you waterlogged.
We become such ferocious animals, all sharp teeth and heavy claws, ripping and tearing without a care to give.
The entire world comes to a stop when we have even the slightest disagreement,
a spotlight shining down to showcase our own personal brand of hate.
I sometimes wonder if that’s us making up for lost time.
All those years we never got to spend fighting like brothers.
Maybe we’re finally making up for that.
Maybe we’re trying to meet our quota before our time is up.
Before we can’t fight anymore.

vii. One time when you weren’t looking, I stole one of your pills.
I saved it for when you wouldn’t be around and swallowed it dry, felt it run down my throat.
I thought that if they made you smile all the time, maybe they’d make me smile, too.
But all I felt was this hallow ache in my chest,
like something bad had grabbed hold of me from the inside.
I was used to flying high, higher than most people would dream to go,
But this was just wrong on so many levels.
It lasted only four hours before I started to wind down, but that was one of the longest four hours of my life.
I wasn’t happy. But I smiled anyway. I couldn’t stop. My cheeks hurt after.
I think I understood you a little better after that day.

viii. I voted to name your cat Sir Fat Cat McCatterson. And I’m not even sorry.

ix. (I’m sorry.)

x. I love you.

Ten Things Aaron Wants To Tell Andrew (But Never Will)