Chapter 12 Andrew #4
“It’s not like that,” Andrew tries again, unsure how to explain what it is like.
He told Eden out of necessity, knowing that with Eden’s trauma, their relationship might not survive the deceit.
He has no doubt his and Charlie’s will. He and Charlie are solid.
Nothing in the world could tear them apart, but it doesn’t stop Andrew from feeling like the scum of the earth for not telling him.
Even if he knows it’s the right choice because Charlie is terrible with secrets, and he’d be betraying Nicki even more if he told Charlie because then Alec and Jason would know, and the odds of everyone knowing would be too high.
It’s not that Andrew doesn’t trust Charlie, it’s that he loves him enough to know keeping secrets isn’t something Charlie can do. It would hurt him, and Andrew would rather suffer that hurt a million times over himself than put that burden on his twin.
“I’m not mad. I mean, okay, I’m a little mad at you for not answering your phone earlier because that’s some bullshit.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get to my phone.”
“I’m not even going to ask why,” Charlie says, “just know that whatever this is…I’m here for you, okay?
I know I’m kind of bad at that sometimes, and I’m not the most serious, but if you found someone, if you’re happy, then I’m all in.
I’ll try to like him even if he’s a fucking rich, jock asshole, which seriously, Annie?
A jock. Ugh. I can’t believe we’re going to have a fucking hockey player in the family. ”
“Family,” Andrew croaks. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Be so for real right now, Annie. You’ve never, ever brought a partner to meet us. If you are now, it’s got to be serious.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know any of you were going to be here,” Andrew points out.
“Ouch,” Charlie says, clutching his chest. “Annie, you wound me.”
“Shut up,” Andrew laughs, knocking his shoulder into Charlie’s.
It would be so easy to tell him the truth now. Of all his brothers, Charlie is the one who would understand.
“I’m so happy for you, Annie. I’ve been worried about you.”
“You what?”
“Worried,” Charlie repeats. “You’re always so tightly wound, and you’ve seemed—sad lately.”
“I’m not sad,” Andrew objects.
“Okay fine, then overstimulated? Deregulated?”
“Are you just listing all the big words you know?”
“Fuck you,” Charlie says, pinching Andrew like they’re thirteen and not thirty-two. “I’m serious. Look, whatever it is, we've been worried.”
“Who is we?” Andrew interrupts with a sinking feeling.
“Me and Eden and Alec and Jason and Mom and Dad.”
“You all talked to Mom and Dad about me,” Andrew gapes.
“Yes, that tends to happen in a family. There’s this thing called a conversation. Speaking of which, they called from their trip and asked if they should fly home.”
“You better have said no,” Andrew groans.
The only thing worse than today’s family intervention would have been if both his parents had been here to meet Nicki, too. They’re supposed to be enjoying being half-retired, not worrying about Andrew’s bullshit.
“Of course I told them not to cut their trip short, but you should call them. Mom sounded beside herself about her baby and Dad, well—you know Dad. They’re worried.”
Fantastic, just what Andrew needs. More guilt. Maybe he should just walk straight into the ocean and not come back.
“Damn tell me how you really feel,” Charlie snorts.
“I literally didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, but the subtitles were on your face again. I do kind of feel like you’re missing the point though. We’re all happy for you. We’re also all more than a little surprised, especially since he’s you know—um, well—there’s really no tactful way to say this.”
“I didn’t even know you knew the word tact.”
“Fuck you very much, I can be tactful when I want.”
“So it’s an active choice to be as abrasive as possible?”
“Would you stop fucking talking and let me talk.”
Andrew mimes zipping his mouth shut, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Charlie, wondering how much worse things can get. The answer, it turns out, is much worse.
“When you didn’t answer your phone, I spent the day googling him. He’s apparently known for sleeping around, and I’m not judging someone who likes sex. You know I’m not, but—he’s been in a lot of pretty risqué scandals over the years. He’s not pressuring you, is he? After Zach, I—”
“Who the fuck is Zach?” Nicki demands, striding into the room from the kitchen with Eden at his side. Neither of them are bleeding, so it couldn’t have gone too badly.
“Zach is a dick,” Charlie answers before Andrew can get a word in.
“Worse,” Eden scoffs. “Zach is the scum of the earth. I hope he dies a miserable death. Where did everyone go?”
“They went for pizza,” Charlie answers, eyes lighting up when Eden moves into Charlie’s personal space and presses his back to Charlie’s chest.
“None of that answers who the fuck Zach is,” Nicki grumbles. “Did he hurt you?”
“Zach is no one who matters now,” Andrew tries, wondering if this day is going to get worse. It doesn’t feel like it could, which means it probably will somehow.
“Zach made Andrew feel less than for being ace,” Charlie offers.
“Have you ever heard of boundaries?” Andrew sighs, throwing his arms in the air.
“You don’t need to be ashamed, Annie. He was the one who should be ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Andrew says. “I just don’t need to think about it, okay?
I’m perfectly aware that Zach was a dick.
Yes, he made me wildly insecure for years.
Yes, he was the reason I was sure I could never make anyone happy in a relationship.
Yes, he stirred all of those insecurities up recently. Can we move on now?”
“I didn’t know it was that bad,” Eden says softly.
“Annie.” Charlie looks so sad that Andrew can’t physically stomach it.
Nicki is surprisingly quiet, but the way he’s looking at Andrew makes him sure this is going to be brought up again at some point, which he will do his best to avoid.
It’s difficult enough living with his own feelings sometimes.
He doesn’t have the spoons to add worrying about how they feel about how he feels into the mix.
“It doesn’t matter,” Andrew says more sharply than necessary.
“Yes, it does, Annie.”
“No,” Andrew hisses, reaching his breaking point.
The lies and the change and the memories are too much.
He needs to be alone, now before he does something that makes everyone hate him.
Instead of admitting any of this, he snaps.
“I don’t care about him, and I don’t want to be reminded of him.
Stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me.
I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.
Can we move on now? Actually, you know what, I’m going to go finish packing because I have to move out of my apartment.
You can all stay here and talk, become best friends if you want.
Share all my secrets, I don’t fucking care. ”
Aware he’s just lost his shit but unable to mask, Andrew heads to his bedroom and slams the door behind him, collapsing against the closed door. This is why he never lets go. Andrew is a goddamn house of cards, and one more wrong move is going to have him crumbling.