Tag: kill me :))))

The Foxhole Court Thoughts

kells-coat:

My favorite thing about the All For the Game series is how like… no one understands Andrew. They go on and on about how Andrew just does things that doesn’t make sense and he does unforgivable, senseless, violent things

and then Neil comes along. Neil whose mother beat him to keep him alive, who in her own violent way loved him even if it made him hate her and traumatized him, who couldn’t afford to be gentle even if she had the capacity for it. 

He knows violence as an act of affection and protection when he sees it.

He recognizes that when Andrew kills Tilda, it wasn’t for himself because Andrew accepts violence towards himself as a normal part of his life and he could care less. It was to protect Aaron, his brother. He realizes that when Andrew tells Aaron to “Fuck off” when they first find each other, it wasn’t for any other reason but that Andrew was willing to suffer alone to keep Aaron safe from Drake’s abuse. Andrew goes back with Aaron to Tilda’s home where he knows that he isn’t wanted, that he’s hated even, to protect him from her heavy hand. Aaron, who was only ever hit out of resentment rather than survival, can’t understand that level of caring. 

He can see that when Andrew beats strangers for assaulting his cousin, it wasn’t to protect his own sexual identity, it was to protect his cousin, his family, even if he doesn’t believe in blood relatives. Nicky, who was never hit by his parents (that we know of, at least), whose familial abuse was verbal and psychological and emotional rather than physical, knows that Andrew was protecting him but didn’t see it as anything more than Andrew being territorial, of protecting his things rather than protecting someone he cares about because, let’s be real, Andrew would not tolerate Nicky or protect him if he didn’t care about him; if they had had a deal like Aaron or Kevin or Neil, I’m sure we would have known about it. He may be a complete asshole to Nicky and treated him like he was an outsider, but I don’t remember reading any part of their relationship as some kind of deal. 

If Nicky was anyone else, Andrew would hate him but Nicky moved all the way back from Germany where he was loved and happy and alive to help Andrew and Andrew, although he doesn’t show it, has accepted Nicky as family and cares for him. Andrew cares about Nicky because Nicky cared about him first, after Cass, Nicky was the first one to treat Andrew like he was family and care about him regardless of how broken he was. Yes, he pulls a knife on Nicky when he’s hitting on Neil and although that was probably because of Aaron’s comment about rape or that he himself found Neil attractive, I think part of it was Andrew’s distrust of Neil in the beginning, that he didn’t know if Neil was dangerous. He didn’t want Nicky to get too comfortable around someone he didn’t trust. 

but Neil

Neil sees Andrew’s fathomless rage and loss of control after Baltimore and he sees his threats, and very clear warnings of “Get away from us” as he is supposed to: Andrew, despite what he says, cares about a very few select people and he will do anything and everything to protect them no matter what it costs him, and no matter how much it could hurt him because his own pain is irrelevant. Neil understands why Andrew is violent, he understands that it isn’t senseless, that it isn’t to hurt Neil or Nicky or Aaron or Kevin, it’s to protect. Andrew’s violence makes perfect sense to him and it is the only way he can show how he feels because he’s been so broken so many times that all that is left is a the violence he needs to protect. It isn’t until Neil that Andrew has another way to show that he cares, a new way only for him: kisses and touches and keys, and of course trust. 

Neil understands Andrew which is why he can get Andrew to back down and give ground when he needs to and it’s also why Andrew let’s him, it’s why Andrew let’s him in and why it’s okay to be quasi-intimate with Neil. It’s why they work. For the first time violent affection doesn’t leave scars on Neil’s skin and for the first time someone understands Andrew enough that he doesn’t have to explain himself. 

wesninskie:

Neil lets himself get distracted instead by the shadows on Andrew’s hands, the forming bruises and the split skin along his knuckles. He takes Andrew’s hand to inspect the damage, wondering at how something so strong can be so fragile—or is it the other way around?. If he turns their hands over he can see the wreckage Lola left behind on his own skin, the distorted scars that will always stand out more than he wants them to.  [..]

It’s a hand, Andrew says, not a question, but not quite mockery, when Neil’s gaze lingers a little too long.

It’s your hand, Neil says, and doesn’t bother to explain. Instead he slips his fingers through Andrew’s and digs in like he can leave his fingerprints on Andrew’s pale skin.

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 )