Under Clear Waters, a gift fic for Skylar

[1]

It had been two years since Neil had last stepped into a pool, which was probably for the best. Swimming was like – a loss of control. A loss of control he couldn't afford.

But California, it seemed to him, worshipped swimming pools. As far as he could tell there was a swimming pool on every corner, and of course, the Olympic pool at the school. They were unavoidable, and Neil didn't like things that were unavoidable.

The towns he'd gone through on his way to this town, through three states and back, had almost never had a pool. He was grateful for this. Ever since his mother died, he couldn't look at the water without thinking of the taste of her burning flesh in the air. A year later, and he still woke up sometimes in the night, the smell of it at the edge of his senses. Like a gust of wind had carried her back to him. It was comforting, sometimes, to know that he still had her, in a way.

But most of the time – most of the time it was like his sense were attacking him, and he couldn't breathe.

The school he was going to was relatively small, but part of a large enough town that not everybody knew everybody. After a month long stint in a town called Millport, he decided this would help preserve his anonymity. He didn't like the gossip of small towns. It made him anxious. On edge. He felt watched.

His papers said he was a year and a half older than he actually was, and therefore legally able to sign any document the school required himself. He did have to do a lot of catching up if he was skipping a grade, but considering how often he changed schools, this would have been true anyway. He wouldn't mind graduating high school early. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, if it weren't for the exy.

The exy, and the showers. Hot water might have been rare, but the water was there nonetheless. And yeah, he might've looked longingly at the pool sometimes, but only sometimes.

Most of the time, he was pretty good at ignoring his own heart.

Most days, the first thing he did in the morning was run. He ran for about an hour at a steady pace, on a route that ended in the school, about half an hour before classes were supposed to start. He'd shower quickly in the locker room, open for morning practices, and spend the day avoiding attention in class. He paid special attention in his language class, Spanish, because his was extremely rusty, but the class wasn't particularly helpful in reviving it. He spent his lunch break in the library, doing homework. And at the end of the day, he went to Exy practice.

He had only tried out for exy because he couldn't bear the idea of watching it. He had severely underperformed, partially by choice, partially because he was very, very out of practice. He had stamina for running, of course he did; this earned him a role as striker. But he got to play very little, which he was partially grateful for, and mostly very, very bitter over.

There were always parts of him fighting each other. He had a warring soul.

[2]

The first time Andrew spoke to Neil, Andrew had almost broken his nose, and it was even by accident. A matter of bad timing; Neil was walking into the locker room just as Andrew had picked his racket up. It swung towards Neil's face, and really, it almost blinded him. Neil bit back a yelp of surprise, and took a step backwards.

Andrew said: "Oh, hey." And when Neil didn't answer, he took his things and left.

The second time Andrew spoke to Neil, he'd actually managed to get a couple words out. He'd been readying himself for a rare afternoon run – Exy practice had been cancelled at the very last moment – and he glanced towards the pool for a mere second. Andrew, who was walking out of the gym with what was clearly a bag of dirty clothing, turned to him and asked: "Do you swim?"

Neil stopped stretching and stared at Andrew for a moment. "I used to."

Andrew nodded and walked away.

Neil spent exactly one moment feeling confused before he pushed that feeling aside, and instead focused on the pleasant burning sensation he felt as he stretched.

The third time Andrew spoke to Neil, Neil actually initiated it. Andrew and Neil were in the same math class, but Neil had accidentally spaced out during the last five minutes, and had completely missed what their homework was. Upon realizing Andrew was the only person in the class he even recognized, he ran up to him and said his name.

Andrew immediately turned around, lazily looking Neil up and down. "What?" he said flatly.

"I missed what the homework was," Neil said. Under Andrew's gaze, he felt awkward and gangly, misshapen somehow, like his limbs were out of alignment. It was an odd feeling, and he was pretty sure he disliked it. "I was wondering if you caught what it was?"

Without even pulling out his notebook, Andrew said: "Chapters 6 through 8, problems 11 through 23 and 45 through 66, and problem 69."

"Oh, thanks," Neil said, quickly committing it to memory. "See you at practice."

There was something about Andrew Doe that bothered him immensely.

Maybe it was the quiet that seemed to radiate off of him, a seriousness not shared by other people in their class. Maybe it was the way he felt watched whenever they were in the same room. Maybe it was just the fact that he seemed to remember anything and everything without a problem, which makes lying much more difficult. He relied on the fact that he was forgettable, but Andrew seemed to do nothing but remember.

The evening in the first week of October when he dyed his roots, and they came out a little darker than usual, he panicked, because he knew Andrew would be able to tell. They'd only known each other a month, but every time they interacted Neil was even more sure of it: Andrew had the ability to perfectly recall anything and everything. He'd gotten into the habit of asking Andrew questions, all random facts from class or practice, and he never missed any of them, remembering even the tiniest of details – details that Neil himself had forgotten, at times.

And the most irritating part about it was that Neil couldn't seem to force himself to forget Andrew, either. Every time he felt Andrew's eyes on him it distracted him. He couldn't focus on classes, or on practice, or on studying - because Andrew always seemed to be in the library when he was.

He was beginning to get sick of it. After a few weeks of this, as he got settled into his favorite spot in the library and, as usual, felt Andrew's eyes, he turned and stared right back, meeting the shocking spark in Andrew's otherwise emotionless face.

And to Neil's absolute shock and horror, Andrew didn't sit down in his usual seat two tables away from Neil. No. He came and sat in the seat right in front of Neil.

"Hey," Andrew said.

"Hi," Neil said.

Andrew took out his Math homework, so Neil did the same, and they studied in silence.

Neil wasn't quite sure how this became a routine, but it did. Neil and Andrew would sit together during every lunch period, and - at first - besides polite greetings, they studied in silence.

Andrew was the first to speak during these study sessions. He said: "Do you know any German?"

Neil's heart beat fast in his chest, but he forced himself to raise his head slowly, as if he was still reading a sentence in Spanish. What did he mean? Why was he asking? What -

"I'm taking it this year as my language elective, and I don't remember what this word means," Andrew explained. He seemed disinterested, but Neil felt as if his eyes were -

Well.

"I took a year of German," Neil lied - well, really he was just bending the truth. "I might be able to help you."

Andrew silently moved his notebook closer to Neil, and he turned it around. Andrew pointed at the word he meant.

"That's stay," Neil said.

"Hm." Andrew said. "Why are you taking Spanish if you've taken German before?"

"Why so many questions?" Neil countered.

For the first time, Neil saw Andrew smile. It was a small, sarcastic thing. Not a true smile by any means, but a mockery of one, worn by someone who hasn't the patience for the joy necessary for a smile.

"We can trade."

Neil just looked at him.

"You ask me something, I ask you something. We both answer honestly. We end on equal footing."

What could Andrew possibly say that would interest Neil? "Pass."

"Are you sure? I will not make this offer again."

Neil thought about it. Thought about the constant, consistent presence of him, the spark in his eyes, and about how he never seems to leave Neil's mind. And suddenly he was curious, unreasonably curious. If his mother knew that he was about to be honest with this - this boy, this random student he has spent almost no time around -

"Alright," he said, before he could change his mind. "I thought Spanish could be useful. Why have you been staring at me?"

"I was curious," Andrew replied. "You aren't just new, you're - off. I look at you and all I see is a gray blob of nothing."

"I am nothing," Neil said. "You shouldn't be curious about me."

Andrew took his notebook back, began to shove his things into his bag. "I'm sure I'll be over it soon," he said. "But for now -" he shook his head, cutting himself off. "I'll see you at practice."

"Yeah," Neil said. "Right."

Andrew walked off, and Neil wondered to himself what had just happened.

[3]

"Why don't you swim anymore?"

Andrew had managed to startle Neil. It was the end of practice, and Neil was doing what he always did: pretending to be busy with something in order to delay his inevitable visit to the locker room. He usually managed to stay on the field until everybody left, at which point nobody cared what he was doing. This had proved to be consistently successful, so he was incredibly surprised that Andrew had lingered as well.

"What?" he said, pretending to have misheard.

Andrew didn't seem to be buying it, but repeated himself anyway. "Why don't you swim anymore?"

"Is this your next turn?"

"Yes."

Neil took a deep breath to calm himself. "I don't like the loss of awareness. Everybody can look at me, I can't see them."

"Hm." Neil met Andrew's piercing gaze. In his eyes, he saw –

"I'll take my turn later," Neil blurted. He grabbed his bag and got pretty close to sprinting away from the field. He'll skip his shower today; he didn't want to spend any more time than necessary on school grounds right now.

Later, he lay on the floor of the empty house he was sleeping in currently and thought of Andrew's intense eyes. It kept him up until the hours, at which point without even noticing he drifted into a light sleep, riddled with dreams as confusing as Andrew Doe.

[4]

"Do you want to go see a movie sometime?" Andrew said a week later, as they silently sat and studied.

Neil didn't even have to force himself to pick his head up slowly. He was finally getting some progress with his Spanish, and didn't want to lose his train of thought, so he hummed to signal that Andrew should wait a second for his response. Once he finished translating the sentence he'd been working on, he finally registered what Andrew had actually said. "What movie?"

He shrugged. "I don't really care. Maybe that new Marvel film. Do you want to?"

Neil considered it. What else did he have to do, anyway? "Sure."

Andrew's features slowly transformed from their usual blank slate to a vaguely pleased expression. Neil didn't know what it meant that he could tell the difference when the change was so small, and he frowned and pushed that side to be dealt with later.

They set a time to meet at the local movie theatre and that was that.

[5]

So now they were hanging outside of school as well, and fairly regularly as well. It seemed to Neil that they were meeting almost every other day, to go to the movies or to go eat together or, once, to go ice skating. They often shared a smoke before or after these outings. He knew his mother would berate him for wasting so much money, but he found himself enjoying these outings.

After yet another shared dinner, Andrew surprised Neil yet again. "Would you like to come visit my house tomorrow? Meet my foster mother?"

It was a Friday, a chilly night in the middle of November. Above, clouds blocked the stars; below, neon lights would have prevented them from seeing stars any way. Neil had a feeling it would rain that night.

Neil shot Andrew a look, but for once, Andrew was looking up at the starless sky instead of him. "Depends," Neil replied.

"On what?" Andrew said.

"I want to take my turn."

Andrew dragged his head down and examined Neil thoroughly. He gestured with his hand, saying go ahead.

"Do you know who your biological family is?"

Andrew let out an insincere snort masquerading as a laugh. "I found out last year, yes."

"Who are they?" Neil pushed.

Andrew stood still for a second, before releasing a breath and saying: "I have a twin brother, Aaron. And a mother who doesn't want me."

Neil could feel the words hitting him. His heart, he was surprised to find, ached for Andrew. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It's not your fault," Andrew said. "So don't apologize."

"Alright," Neil said. "I'll – see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow," Andrew echoed. And then he was gone, and Neil felt very, very cold.

"I like your foster mother," Neil remarked as they climbed the stairs to Andrew's room. "She's nice."

"Yes, she is," Andrew said, and if Neil didn't know better, he could've sworn he heard affection in his voice. The door slammed behind them, and Neil took the time to examine Andrew's room. It was small, but bare, practically as sterile as the house Neil broke into every night. There was a large bed, which took up most of the room, along with a dresser and a small bookcase. There was also a laptop, but no desk. Maybe Andrew did his studying in another room?

Andrew sat on the bed and Neil awkwardly mimicked him.

"So this is Andrew Doe's room, huh?"

"I think that's rather obvious," Andrew said.

Suddenly, Neil knew that Andrew was real. He'd known it all along, of course, but until this very second somewhere in the back of his mind he'd been doubting it, thinking that this complicated young man couldn't be anything other than a figment of his own imagination. Seeing his bedroom, his house, his home, knowing that Andrew existed beyond Neil's perception of him – it was dizzying.

"I want to play another round," Neil said.

"No," Andrew said. "I don't want to answer your questions right now. And I have too many questions to ask to choose just one."

"Ask me something anyway," Neil said.

Andrew looked at him oddly. "Yes or no?"

Andrew surprised Neil again and again. He'd managed to get under his skin and Neil hadn't even noticed until it was too late. He baffled Neil, but also challenged him, made his stay on his toes, and before he even knew it, he was attached to him.

"Yes," Neil said.

Andrew surged forward and kissed him. It lasted only a moment, but it felt like an entire lifetime. Neil found himself surprisingly pleased with the experience - once Andrew pulled away, he brought his left hand to his lips, partially shocked.

Andrew was looking away from Neil, visibly angry, his hands curled into shaking fists. Neil had learned better by now than to touch Andrew unexpectedly, so he resisted the urge to put a hand on him and instead opted to murmur Andrew's name. He looked at Neil then, a strange look on his face. "Do you want me to leave?" Neil asked.

"No," Andrew said, but he seemed to be doubting himself.

Neil compromised by sinking to the floor beside the bed. Not leaving, but also not too close. He decided he'd give Andrew a second to relax, but that second turned into minutes, into hours, and eventually, in that quiet room on that bare floor leaning against the plain white wall, he fell asleep.

In the early hours Neil woke, sudden, quick. He blinked as he surveyed the room around him. The door was slightly ajar, letting the orange hallway light in; Andrew was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear murmuring from down the hallways. Neil felt like he was swimming in the stifling heat of the room as he rose. Neil hadn't brought his duffel to Andrew's, but he searched for it anyway before he remembered. He glanced at his watch – it was only nine o'clock. He'd been asleep for maybe a couple of hours, but it was still too long. He should leave.

As the door creaked as he opened it and the voices silenced immediately. Once Neil's eyes adjusted he realized it was Andrew and a young man he didn't recognize, and who he immediately disliked. His figure was overbearing in a way that reminded him too much of the people his father had surrounded himself with, and the closer Neil got to him, the clearer the young man's expression became, the more he disliked it.

"Andrew," he said, a smirk adorning his terribly handsome features. "I didn't know you had a guest."

"He – " Andrew began, but Neil cut him off.

"I fell asleep just as we were going to start watching a movie," Neil said. "I've been overworking myself at exy practice. Andrew, are you coming back?"

Andrew gave a curt nod, and walked away from the young man. Neil didn't realize how tense Andrew was until they stepped into the bedroom and he relaxed, if only a bit – Andrew didn't like this young man any more than Neil did.

Neil shut the door. "Who was that?" he demanded.

"Drake," Andrew said. "My foster brother."

They did watch a movie together, although they paused around ten o'clock so Neil could pretend to call his mother and tell her he'd be sleeping over at a friend's. They started a second one, but Neil could tell he was tired, so he suggested they continue it tomorrow, and they both went to sleep.

Neil woke up at his usual time – five thirty am – itching for a run. He knew he'd have to go home first to change and grab his things, but he wasn't sure he had the time. Luckily, Andrew woke up the moment Neil began moving.

"You," Andrew said, "wake up far too early."

"I need to go home and get my things," Neil said.

"C'mon," Andrew said, "I'll drive you."

Andrew did drive him – after leaving a note for his foster mother that he was borrowing the car –but Neil had him drop him off a block away, giving a few excuses in succession, hoping one of them would stick and Andrew would drive off. Andrew didn't leave, but he didn't insist on driving down the street; instead, he said he'd wait for him on the corner until he came back.

It was almost six-fifteen, too late for Neil to take his normal route to the school anyway. On a whim, he grabbed his swimming trunks and a gray shirt and put them in his bag. This early, there'd be nobody to see him, anyway.

When Neil got into the car, Andrew asked him: "Yes or no?"

[6]

Neil and Andrew now had a new routine. Just after six Neil would meet Andrew, who would drive them to school. They would spend a few minutes kissing, and then Andrew would drive to school. Andrew remained in the car while Neil went swimming for half an hour, leaving him enough time to shower and get to first class, nodding at Andrew in the hallways as if they were mere acquaintances. Then they would sit together in the library during lunch, and Neil would spend half the time thinking about his homework, and the other half he spent watching Andrew and… trying to understand.

Andrew had told him to stop looking at him like that a couple of times already, but he truly had no idea what he meant until, one morning, Andrew took his turn.

They'd already passed the physical stage of the morning, but Andrew didn't start the car.

"I'm taking my turn," Andrew said, carefully examining Neil's features.

Neil nodded.

"Who are you running from?"

Neil's world once again shifted, and he physically recoiled.

"Answer me," Andrew said.

"Andrew – " he began. He thought of lying to him, but a lump in his throat stopped him from doing that. "This is more than I can give."

Andrew looked at him for a long time, clearly expecting more. Neil shook his head. He wasn't going to give any more. Instead, he took his own turn: "I'll tell if you tell me what Drake is doing to you."

"Fuck you," Andrew said.

Neil said, "Don't ask questions like that if you don't want me to do the same."

Andrew started the car and a pregnant silence settled over them as they drove. When Andrew parked the car by the school, Neil made for the door. Andrew spoke before he could even touch the handle.

"He rapes me," Andrew said in a voice so raw and angry Neil physically recoiled. "He comes into my room at night, and – "

"No, you don't – you don't have to say anything else," Neil said.

Empty eyes met his own. "You asked. Don't ask if you can't handle the answer." Neil took a deep breath to steady himself, refusing to look away. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Neil finally asked.

"Like I'm your answer."

"What if I'm yours?" Neil countered.

Andrew laughed darkly. "You have yet to answer my question at all."

And how could he be anything but honest at that?

"My father," he said. "It's my father who I'm running from."

He opened his eyes, and the waters were clear. He'd swam what felt like one hundred laps; he'd lost count. He shouldn't be in the water. The water could turn his shirt sheer, show his scars, and anybody could sneak past him, attack him the moment he left the pool. But he never felt freer than he did when he was immerse in the water and chlorine all alone.

He spent his usual half hour in the water, but when he left the water he found himself unexpectedly face to face with Andrew.

"Who are you?" Andrew asked.

Neil looked at him, doing his best not to shiver from the cold. "I'm not sure what you're asking."

"I'm moving in with my biological family. My uncle won me last week," he spat. "And I'm going to leave."

"Oh," Neil said. It was December, he realized. They were going on break next week. This was probably a very good time for Andrew to leave.

"Who are you?" Andrew repeated, slowly, slowly walking closer. Neil closed his eyes, tried to steady himself.

"I can't give you that," Neil breathed.

"You owe me one last question," Andrew reminded him. Neil knew he did, but he didn't know how to give himself away like this.

He didn't know what to do.

His chest hurt. He couldn't breathe.

He looked away. When he looked back, Andrew was gone.

[7]

He took one last swim. It was the last day of the semester, and half the school was out sick; even the staff was spread out thin. He had two classes that day, and had been considering skipping; what was the point, anyway?

He'd decided he was going to leave.

For some reason, he'd made it official. Went to the office and told them his parents were transferring, and he was going with them. Said he wanted the transcripts. They would be useless to him; he wouldn't turn 17 for a few months, and they said his 18 birthday had been months ago. Even if he did have to continue studying as a senior, he couldn't have anything tying him to a place he'd already been, saying: I've been here, now I'm elsewhere. I was here.

Maybe he wanted it for himself, the knowledge that Neil Josten had existed, that he'd had something with Andrew Minyard nee Doe, and that he wouldn't anymore.

And suddenly he couldn't breathe.

He wouldn't have Andrew anymore, and he didn't know why or how, but that mattered to him more than survival.

He was running. He knew Andrew wasn't at school today, had checked, and had also known that he'd be leaving that afternoon. That meant that right now Andrew was at the Spear's home, and that he was most likely packing, and that Neil would miss him, and that he would never know unless he –

He made it. He knocked on the door. He waited.

"Andrew?" he said.

The door opened, and Andrew was –

He swallowed his first instinct, to reach out and pull him as close as possible.

"You're moving to Columbia, right?"

Andrew nodded.

"It's a funny coincidence," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "But so are my parents. Last minute transfer. Odd, right?"

Andrew didn't react.

"Maybe when we're there," Neil said. "I'll be able to answer your question."

"Maybe," Andrew said. He shut the door, and, smiling, Neil turned away.

Maybe.

This was a gift for Skylar (nwesninski on tumblr), who asked for andreil alternative meeting and high school au, among like a hundred other prompts - it was a great selection, thank you! I hope you like it.

All of you who might be waiting for an OTT update might be glad to know I'm almost done with it - not just the last chapter, but the whole thing.

Have a great weekend, enjoy the rest of the summer, and as usual - reviews are my fuel, so please leave some!

Love,

JustGail