When they start the "engagement", it seems like a good idea.
"Yeah, my parents are kind of being fuckheads." Neil says, scratching the back of his head. "I kind of insinuated I'm seeing someone, and now they won't get off my backs about when they get to meet him, when we're thinking of marriage - it's like a fucking firing squad."
"What if we pretend we're dating?" Tom murmurs from the couch, and at first he says it as a joke, but then suddenly it makes sense. He sits up straighter. "No, seriously. My parents barely even talk to me but they're still on my case all the time. We pretend we're dating - hell, you can propose, take it a step further - that'll shut them up for a while."
"And when they expect to get invited to an actual wedding?" Neil asks, unimpressed.
"Oh, we'll break up before then." Tom assures. "And then we'll both be so heartbroken, no one'll bring it up for ages."
And so begins the relationship.
It's easy at first. It's fine. When Neil tells his family about the engagement, they're ecstatic. "We haven't set a date yet," he tells them. "We're waiting for the perfect time."
Only a few close friends know the truth. Harry rolls his eyes, and Alfred asks him if he's ready for the repercussions. Aurora just looks Neil in the eyes and tells him, "I hope you know what you're doing. I don't want either of you to get hurt." He scoffs and shrugs her concerns off. It's a stupid act that'll be over before they know it.
They can only put off meeting the family for so long, so a few weeks later they go to meet Neil's.
"Alright. How did we meet?" Tom asks, and Neil rolls his eyes.
"It doesn't matter. We can just make something up; they won't even ask, anyway."
"It's the principle of it." Tom insists. "I'm not about to do this half-assed. So, c'mon. Where did we meet?"
"Through mutual friends."
Tom lets out a melodramatic sigh. "You are so predictable, Mackay."
Neil tries to ignore the way his chest twists when he says it.
When they get to the house, they're greeted with a few smiles and hugs and, once they settle down, Tom finds that Neil was right - no one's going to ask them about how they met. The questions are all vague and polite; 'how are the wedding plans coming' and 'I do hope you find a nice venue'. No personal questions, nothing that feels like a family should ask. When they leave, three hours later on the dot, Tom lets out a deep sigh of relief.
"Christ, Neil. You didn't tell me your family was made up of icicles."
"Only around company." Neil says, and it's a little too loud, a little too -
"Are you drunk?" Tom asks incredulously, and Neil gives a hoot of laughter. Tom's just plain impressed, at this point. "You are, aren't you? But there wasn't even any alcohol!"
"My mum always hides some under the table. Easy to slip out without anyone noticing."
"And you didn't even put any into my drink? Dick."
Neil laughs again. "So now you've seen my family - what's yours like, then?"
"You'll see soon enough," Tom replies cryptically, before darting ahead of Neil down the subway steps, hooting like a child. Neil rolls his eyes, but he can't help the smile from creeping up at the edges of his lips.
A week later, they go to meet Tom's parents. And it's immediately apparent, from the tiny flat and the immediate noise that reaches Neil's eardrums, that this is a very different household. They're barraged by a bundle of children ranging in ages, all of whom Tom seems to know personally - despite the fact that Neil's never once heard him mention siblings.
"The prodigal son returns." A woman rounds the corner and stretches out her arms with a wry grin, and Tom leans in to hug her.
"Hey, mom."
The woman looks over to assess Neil, and he resists the urge to straighten up. "So this is the fiance?"
"This is Neil." Tom replies with a grin over at the other man's (obviously, blatantly nervous) expression.
"Well, Neil." Tom's mother says with a warm smile. "It's wonderful to meet you." She gestures towards the living room. "I hope you don't mind - we invited a couple people."
"Mom . . ." Tom warns, and she clucks her tongue.
"Don't give me that, leanbh. Just a few close friends. Don't blame me if I wanted to share the good news, after we don't see you for months."
"Fine, fine." Tom mutters. "Just as long as it's only a couple."
It's more than a couple. There are tables crammed together in the kitchen, and some people are sitting in the living room - and in between bites of the most delicious meal Neil's ever eaten, they're barraged with questions. "Where did you meet?" "Who proposed?" "Where are you going to live?" Whenever another one's asked Tom shoots him a look that says see? I told you so.
Neil's still a little reserved, but he begins to relax when he sees the way Tom interacts with everyone there. He's joking around, laughing; these are obviously the people he enjoys being around.
There's one man there, Aiden, around his age, that Tom seems to act differently around, though. Not uncomfortable, just - wary. Different. He asks Mrs. Cummings about it later, and she just gives him a sad little smile.
"Oh, a stór." She says with a shake of her head. "Ask him about it later, alright? Let us have today to celebrate."
The only damper of the evening comes when Neil goes through the winding hallways to find the bathroom, and overhears angry voices. He picks out one as Tom's, and the other as his father.
"Can you just let me have one day?" Tom's asking furiously. "One. Fucking. Day. Can you get your head out of your ass for my engagement and just not drag everyone down with you?"
"You think I'm dragging you down?" His father's voice comes back, less angry and more spiteful. "You're the fucking faggot here, kid. Don't be surprised I don't want you and your whore in here like it's some special party."
Neil holds his breath. If it were anyone else, he knows, Tom would have decked them. Instead, Tom bursts out of the room and down the hallway opposite Neil - not noticing him there, or maybe choosing to ignore him. Neil waits a minute before he heads back.
Tom isn't in the living room or the kitchen when he gets back, and after half an hour Neil goes to find him. It takes a couple minutes of knocking on doors and poking his head into places he probably shouldn't before he finds him. Or, more accurately, him and Aiden. Together. In a bedroom.
He closes the door before they see him, ignoring the way his heartbeat suddenly feels off, his lungs needing an extra gasp here and there. He walks down the hallway back to the living room and forces a smile on his face around the crowds of people. He doesn't care, obviously. It's just kind of a shitty thing to do at their supposed engagement party. Anyone could walk in and see them, and then it would throw off the whole thing - and it's especially shitty since Tom was the one who suggested it in the first place. That's really what he's concerned about, here.
He doesn't say anything on the subway ride back, and Tom finally turns to him.
"Okay, what's happening here?" He asks, and Neil shrugs.
"Nothing. I'm just tired."
Tom shoots him a wary look, but lets it drop. That night, Neil dreams of the way Tom's lips would taste, and he realizes exactly why his pulse is still racing.
He kind of hates himself for it.
"Listen," Tom asks Neil a week after the family dinner that set so many things off in the wrong directions; "I need to talk to you about something."
"That sounds terrifying." Neil mutters, but looks over at him attentively nonetheless.
"No, it's not a big deal - I just though you should know I'm, um, hooking up with my ex?" It comes out as a question, and Tom mentally kicks himself.
"Alright." Neil looks remarkably unfazed, which for some reason irritates Tom.
"Yeah? So that's okay?"
Neil shrugs. "Don't see how it would affect me. As long as you keep it discreet, obviously, for the time being. Who knows, maybe we can use that as our reason for breaking up."
"Yeah." Tom replies half-heartedly. "Yeah, that'd work out nicely."
He finds himself at Aurora's that night, and they make it through half a bottle of gin before he really starts talking.
"I hooked up with Aiden." He blurts, out of nowhere, and Aurora raises an eyebrow. "And I told Neil about it."
"Why'd you tell him?" She asks, and Tom shakes his head. It kind of swishes around when he does, and he immediately stops the motion.
"Y'know, he's my - my fake fiance, and everything. Thought he should know."
"You sure that's all?" Aurora asks, taking another swig - he doesn't know why she's drinking, he won't ask. Alfred's been a little distant lately, so something's probably happened between them - but he knows her. She'll tell him when she's ready, or she'll never tell him at all. Ice Queen is an Aurora Luft specialty that he's grown more than used to.
"What else would it be?" He asks blearily, grabbing the bottle from her hands. Aurora doesn't answer, just gives him a knowing look. "Fuck off," he tells her, but only after another drink.
He doesn't realize until two months later, until Neil brings up the breakup. "You know," he says, "we should probably get on that soon. They're going to be expecting a date for the wedding, and we've been putting on the act long enough to convince them." He glances down at his hands. "Besides, this way you can be with Aiden for real."
Something in Tom's gut clenches, and he focuses too hard on the blanket wrapped between his hands - some stupid woven thing that Neil loves. He's not even sure why it's at his apartment; that or the drawer of Neil's things, "just in case I need to stay over to, you know, convince them".
"Sure, yeah, fine." He spits out, and it comes out a little vicious, a little bitter.
"What's up?" Neil sits next to him on the couch. "Did something happen between you and Aiden?"
"No, it's fine." He spits the words out. "We're fine. We're great."
"Perfect." Neil replies, but his voice sounds distant, and when Tom looks up he won't meet his gaze.
So they break off the engagement. The first time they each tell the story, it's harder than it should be. And then, it just settles into a rhythm. Yes, it's awful. Yes, Tom fucked up. Yes, they've talked it through.
"You know he's in love with you," Aurora tells Neil one night when he's at her house for their weekly dinner (Neil cooks, Aurora buys the alcohol), after they've delved into the tequila.
"Who?" Neil asks - because they weren't talking about anything, just sitting together in silence. ("What the fuck do you guys even do?" Tom asked him once, and he just shrugged. It makes sense, for them.)
"Tom." Aurora replies, as matter-of-fact as if she were reading the paper.
"Sure." Neil replies with a snort, and she raises an eyebrow. "C'mon. Tom? In love with me?" He takes another shot. "I think you've had too much tequila."
"You know, he was here a couple months ago." She says, grabbing the bottle away from him and setting it on the floor. "Piss-drunk, could not stop complaining about how guilty he felt that he hooked up with Aiden. Practically crying for you to notice."
Neil doesn't know what to say to that. "We were fake-engaged, Aurora. He just felt guilty that he might've ruined the act early."
"Yeah, sure." She replies dryly. "It's not like he hooked up with Aiden to make you jealous, or anything." And this makes Neil laugh out loud, but it doesn't quite come out right - something about the tequila and the 2:23 am and the feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks about Tom.
"Do you love him?" She asks, and he doesn't reply; he's not sure if he's ready to answer that.
"What's happening with you and Alfred?" He switches the subject, and she responds by grabbing the bottle from the floor and taking another swig.
"Everything." She replies despondently. "Nothing. I don't know. He just -" she breaks off, and even though her mouth is set in a grim line Neil thinks he catches a brief glimpse of tears shining in her eyes. "He can't fix me. He can't, nobody can, and he doesn't - he doesn't seem to get that."
"Do you love him?" Neil mirrors her words, and she looks over at him.
"Yeah." She whispers, and even though she looks so lost, she says that one word like it's the only thing in the entire world she knows is true.
They fall asleep on Aurora's vinyl-clad couches, and the next morning they go back to not talking about anything at all.
Tom goes a whole two weeks without talking to Neil. They're the worst two weeks of his life.
Neil suggested that maybe they should take some time apart - for appearance's sake. He agreed, maybe because he thought the time would make him realize that he was not, actually, in love with his best friend, maybe because he was just feeling masochistic. Either way, it has been a whole 14 days and he doesn't think he can take it any more. He picks up the phone to call Neil, and then he hesitates. Everything between them has been weird since the "engagement", and he doesn't even know what he would say. So instead, he grabs his coat and heads over to the subway.
When Neil answers his door, he looks surprised to see Tom there. That, above everything, hurts like a punch to the gut. Tom remembers when he'd show up at Neil's house every day, or just randomly when he needed to talk - and Neil always expected him. Always knew exactly what to say. But now, things are so off between them that he doesn't even expect Tom to show up.
"I - um." He feels stupid here, now; awkward, not knowing what to say. "I thought we should talk."
"Alright." Neil opens the door a little wider to let him into the flat, which dispels a bit of the anxiety in his chest. He'd had a stupid worry that Neil would have someone over - stupid, because he has no reason to intrude on Neil's relationships. Stupid, because if he's too chicken to tell him how he feels then he has no right to feel jealous of someone who can.
"So," Neil asks, once he's shut the door, "what do we need to talk about?"
"I just -" Tom sticks his hands in his pockets so he won't fidget with them. Normally he would be sprawled across the couch by now, but he doesn't think he can sit still right now. "I don't think us not seeing each other is really necessary. I mean, as long as we don't go out with a bunch of friends, who's even going to know?"
"Sure, fine." Neil replies. "I'm just - busy lately. So I might not see you that much, anyways."
"Okay." Tom says, and they lapse into an awkward silence.
"So." Neil says, finally. "How's Aiden doing?"
"Fine." Tom blurts, before he even thinks about why he's saying it. He hasn't seen Aiden in nearly three weeks, since the night after he realized how he felt about Neil and was doing his best to make himself ignore it. (It didn't work. It'll never work.)
"Good."
"Okay." Tom shifts on his toes. "Well, I should go." He gestures to the door. "I have some work to do still tonight."
"Sure." Neil replies, waiting off to the side with a closed expression while Tom walks out the door.
"Goodnight." Tom calls, and Neil replies with a half-smile.
"Night."
It isn't until he's halfway to the subway station, soaked by the rain that had come out of nowhere, that he gives up. Just completely gives it up, because maybe this is going to ruin everything, but everything feels like it's ruined right now, anyways.
When Neil opens the door and takes in the sight of Tom, agitated and dripping wet, his eyes widen. "Did you forget -" he starts, but before he can finish Tom takes his face in his hands and kisses him.
Neil stays completely still - and after a second, Tom accepts that he's misjudged it. That he's fucked everything up, truly and eternally, like he knew he would. He goes to pull back - and then Neil's bringing his arms around his waist, pulling him closer, lips moving against his. He thinks he forgets to breathe for a while, with the feeling of Neil's body flush against him, his lips tasting like nothing he'd ever imagined. He doesn't know if he would have remembered to breathe, if Neil didn't suddenly pull back.
"I didn't -" he stops. Then, "was that okay?" Because Neil is pulling his arms away, not looking directly at him.
"You know, if you're looking for a rebound, there are plenty of men out there who would be willing to fit that position." His voice is acidic, but Tom can tell when he's faking.
"What are you even talking about?" He asks, and Neil finally looks up at him, glaring.
"Aiden." He spits. "I don't know what's going on with you two, but I thought you at least would think more of me than to use me as your go-to when you get dumped."
"Neil." Tom gapes, reaching out to grab the other man's hand, but he jerks it away. "Is that really what you think? That since I can't be with Aiden, I'll use you as a backup?"
"I don't know!" Neil bursts, and his voice shakes a little when he says it.
Tom reaches a hand out again, and then brings it back. "I broke it off with Aiden three weeks ago," he says firmly, gripping his hands into fists. "I was only with him because I wanted to make you jealous, or because I was trying to make myself forget about you."
"About me?" Neil still sounds incredulous, and Tom lets out a frustrated huff of air.
"Jesus christ, Neil. Yes." He doesn't know how to stop talking, now that he's started; he's kept this in for too long. "I think I've been in love with you as long as I can remember - probably before that, too. You're always asking why my relationships never last, why I never stay in them more than a few months? That's why. You're why."
Neil is staring at him with an indiscernible expression on his face.
"What?" Tom asks, suddenly self-conscious. It occurs to him that he hasn't actually asked Neil if he feels the same way.
Instead of answering, Neil kisses him.
"Yes." He whispers in between gasped breaths, in between the dizzy twilight filling the empty apartment around them. "Yes, this is okay."