Tag: andrew minyard

kisecchinosedai:

do you ever think about how Andrew Minyard asked his friend to tell his crush that he’s an option

how did that conversation go

“Renee, Neil might ask you about my sexuality.”

“Oh, you want me to tell him to leave it alone?”

“No. Tell him I’m gay. And single. Only if he asks, though.”

i. over and over i’ve told myself: i can’t find a home in a person.
i’ve thought it and whispered it and howled it so much
that it had become my own personal mantra:
i can’t find a home in a person.
it’s too dangerous.
i will break.
or you will break.
or we will break each other
and we won’t be able to put the pieces back together—
not in the same way—
we’ll both come out different than we were,
before we decided that “love” was a good idea.
there’s not much we can do to prevent that
other than stop it from happening in the first place.
so i don’t find homes in people;
in fact, i don’t find homes in much of anything anymore.
my cousin comes along and i think,
“he can’t be an exception. he’s family but he’s not
because he’s been absent for seventeen years.
but i still can’t hurt family, even if i’ve never seen them before,
because they’re family and you don’t fuck with family.
don’t get close. don’t take refuge in that.”
and it works. until it doesn’t.
some drunk assholes threaten my cousin’s safety
and the next thing you know,
i see red and i’m locked in juvie.
except: i’m fine with that.
anything to keep my distance, right?
anything to stop myself from finding a home in somebody.
but then my brother comes along and i think,
“he can’t be an exception either. he’s not me, 
but he is at the same time,
and that’s worse than loving a stranger
because i can’t stand to see myself shatter twice.
keep him away. make him hate me. make him despise me.
anything, anything–
just don’t get close. don’t take shelter in him.”
and it works. until it doesn’t.
we’re the same but we’re not
and we’re more alike than we’d care to admit. we grow close.
we get attached. family is suddenly more than just an empty word
in the dictionary of my life.
except: i’m fine with that.
at least i got to delay the heartache, right?
but then YOU comes along. and i think,
“now he really can’t be an exception.
he’s nothing. no— less than nothing.
he’s just a boy — albeit a problematic one — but at the same time,
he feels like falling and i’m terrified of heights.
i’m not ready for this — for him —
for somebody who can make a difference in my life.
he wasn’t part of the plan.”
and it doesn’t work.
i find my home.
i’m pushed off that cliff,
and i fall
all
the
way
to
the
ground
(splat.)
(i knew finding a home in a person could be a dangerous thing– that it would hurt, that i would break or you would break or we would break each other.
but i wasn’t aware that it would hurt this badly.)

ii. we had both disappeared in the modern age:
fell into nihility,
became nullity.
you had dropped your name and dropped yourself in the process:
practiced shrinking; mastered not-existing;
took up muteness and swallowed down your clamors.
while you were running away from the life you never had,
i was busy taking refuge in myself,
and grasping the technique of speaking without talking.
i stayed holed up in bedroom after bedroom,
juvie cell after juvie cell,
closing my eyes and pretending i was anywhere but there.
you stayed on the road,
i stayed in my head.
until the people we once knew forgot our names and faces,
until we were both a distant figure
in the rearview mirrors of their lives.
until “andrew” and “nathaniel” weren’t people.
until nobody cared.
until nobody asked.
we were gone.
we were ghosts.
we were lost.
we were lost.
until–
we were found.

iii. i don’t believe in god,
but i swear every time your hips
meet mine,
i feel so magnificent and blessed and ethereal,
i think that maybe we are something holy and good:
apart of a greater plan
that we cannot even begin to understand our place in.
i will scream your name like a invocation to god himself,
and summon a convocation
of everything sacrosanct and divine,
until all the heavens knows your goddamn name.
neil, neil, neil, neil, god yes, neil, neil, neil
neil, neil, neil,
neil, neil,
neil

iv. a lament for icarus:
i look at you and sometimes wonder,
“how did icarus not see it coming?”
he loved the sun, sure.
she’s bright and brilliant and so impossibly blinding that it’s hard
not to bestow yourself to her.
but you’d have to be stupid not to see how dangerous she could be;
how easily you could be taken advantage of;
how easily you could get burned.
it’s an ever-present threat, looming just over the horizon.
and yet– icarus crashed and burned and died and now poets can’t stop singing his song.
sometimes i think that,
sure, icarus loved the sun,
but maybe that was the point.
maybe he was tired of breathing without living—
tired of inhibiting a body that he felt like a house-guest in.
maybe icarus didn’t forget his wings were constructed of wax.
maybe he just didn’t care.
maybe he saw the sun and saw everything else the world had to offer,
and decided that ‘everything else’ just wasn’t good enough.
because I, too, look at you and think,
“yeah. i’d burn for you. any day, any time, i’d burn for you.”
‘everything else’ is just an afterthought.

v. love
/ləv/
noun
1. background noise
2. too many emotions, not enough words
3. valentine’s gimmick
4. hallmark card
5. stay.
6. don’t go.
7. welcome home.

3/? Five Things Andrew Wants To Tell Neil (And Eventually Will) Part One, Part Two (via deadravenkings )

andrews-nothing:

Andrew holding on to Neil’s clothing is my Fave Thing™ so let’s just expand on that 

  • he still always grabs at Neil’s hoodie, esp the neckline
    • what a gr8 way to get Neil’s attention bc he doesn’t have to bother with words and also? Now Neil’s looking him? double win.
    • (also this is #content for a whole other post but consider, if you will, selectively mute Andrew.  nonverbal Andrew. thank you for ur time)
    • triple win actually bc then it’s easy to tug neil closer for a kiss. Nice.
  • he grabs Neil’s clothes almost all the time, like when they’re sitting next to each other on the couch or in a booth, just to remind Neil that he’s there and to remind himself of the same thing
  • sometimes he just hooks a finger in Neil’s collar and sometimes his whole fucking hand is just splayed across Neil’s chest. 
    • He does the whole arm-around-the-shoulder thing when they’re chilling together at home and his arm wraps so far around Neil his hand is resting against Neil’s chest, under his shirt.
  • Neither one will say it but it makes them both feel safe. Andrew can feel Neil’s heart beating steadily and Neil feels the warm, solid weight of Andrew’s hand holding the scarred mess of his skin together. 
  • once when they’re in a big crowd and they’re trying to move quickly Andrew almost gets separated from Neil but nope. he hooks his fingers in the back of Neil’s sweatshirt. Can’t lose him if he’s got a handful of his shirt.
  • Andrew has also been known to hook his fingers thru Neil’s belt loops when they’re walking in a crowd
  • picture this please: Andrew, exy badass, no one has seen him smile ever, stoically silent and judgmental At All Times. and more often then not he’s walking on the court with one fist balled up in the back of his boyfriend’s jersey. adorable.

rainbow-femme:

My favorite thing about Andrew Minyard is that, after finding out two of his teammates are wanted by the largest and most powerful mob in the country, his reaction is basically “Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it.”
Like Neil’s mother used to have multiple body guards protecting them and still didn’t trust they were safe, and this below average height college sophomore is completely confident in his ability to keep them alive against the endless amount of hired killers that could be sent after them.
I just love my small son who is willing to fight Everyone