Trigger warnings: mentions of Neil's past include mentions of death & mentions of gore-ish elements.
Andrew is the first one to say it.
He's standing in the space between their kitchen and their living room (their, their, their, Neil never tires of saying it), his knuckles white where he tightens his fists around them. Neil thinks, distantly, that they look like scars, sharp and stark, angry lines across the skin. The words shoot out of Andrew's mouth like a ball flying across the field.
"I love you."
Andrew's gaze is a challenge that makes Neil forget to catch the words before they hit. They fly right into his chest, like bullets through a window.
The world shatters.
It's been years since they won the championship. Neil and Andrew have been living together for the most part of a year now. Of course Neil's thought about it.
He thought about it until the world started spinning with his thoughts and his mother was here, and there was blood on his hands and his name wasn't Neil but it wasn't Nathaniel, either. He thought about it with the smell of burning flesh chasing after him in blurry streets, his body one gaping wound he didn't know how to close.
He thought maybe his mother had loved Nathan. He thought she had loved Neil, too, and he had loved her back. Then she'd died, and his father had almost killed him, and had Neil ever loved Nathan?
He locked the word away with Nathaniel and forced himself to stop thinking.
The world shatters, but maybe it's just Neil.
He stares, frozen on the other side of the room, as Andrew's eyes flicker.
"Breathe," he says, or Neil thinks that's what he says - he can barely hear him. Everything around them is deafening. The freezer buzzes, the clock ticks on the wall, a fly hums around the sink, one of the cats purrs on the couch, a breeze blows from the open window to the kitchen, makes sheets of paper rustle on the countertop - it's all so much and loud and theirs, and Neil doesn't want to run away, he doesn't, but it smells like something's burning and -
"Breathe."
"Andrew." His voice sounds like sandpaper across stone.
"Shut up and breathe."
Neil does. He holds onto Andrew's eyes, pulls his focus back to him and into the shape of Andrew's hands framing his face, the steady rhythm of Andrew's breaths, the tightness in his jaw. The warmth of Andrew's forehead against his.
Neil anchors himself in Andrew, and breathes himself back together.
It isn't until five days have passed that Neil says it back.
They're both sitting on their (their, their, their) couch, Andrew with a pint of ice cream on his lap, Neil with King Fluffkins nestled against his side. It's a peaceful evening, their living room a blanket of soft hues and muffled sounds from the distant streets below. It isn't often that they get to spend a quiet moment at home these days so they're making the most of it, in their own way.
Home, Neil thinks, looking at the tricks of the light play with Andrew's profile, bending familiar lines into a whole new landscape he can't quite believe he has all the time in the world to map out.
The words are out of his mouth before he's had the time to pull them beck.
"I love you too."
It sounds so quiet in the room, Neil almost thinks he didn't say them out loud.
Andrew has stopped chewing on his spoonful of ice cream, though, and hasn't yet moved to scoop out more. He's not looking at Neil, not really - but there's a tightness at the corner of his mouth that wasn't here before.
Neil startles the cat awake when Andrew sets his pint down on the coffee table, then turns to face him. Neil half expects to hear a percentage when he opens his mouth.
"You didn't have to," is all he says instead. Neil thinks something might be shattering again, but all he hears is the quiet awe in Andrew's voice and he knows it was worth it.
"I know," he says. There is a smile tugging at his lips that he can't hold. "I wanted to."
Andrew's face does something. It lasts for half a second - then Andrew shifts on their couch and a hand is covering the back of Neil's neck, and Neil can almost taste Andrew's breath on his lips. Wonder fills his chest as he thinks, again but freely this time, I'm allowed to have this.
"Yes or no?"
Neil breathes.
"Yes."
The world doesn't shatter.
It's been ages since I worked on a fanfic, let alone finished one, but here I am! I hope you enjoyed this little thing born from a headcanon of mine that Andrew would say "I love you" first.
If you'd consider leaving a review, it'd mean the world to me.