If we shadows have offended

Neil wakes in the quiet, gray hours of the morning, curled against Guy's chest, breathing peacefully. Guy sprawls in the familiarity of his bed, and Neil finds himself in that same anxious spiral surrounded by the disarray of his bedroom. He manages to lay there for about two minutes before he slowly extracts himself from the tangle of sheets and limbs that made up their slumber.

In the night, he'd promised eggs. He can still hold true to that, at least. Not much else, but he can do eggs. So Neil unwinds himself carefully, trying not to wake Guy. He finds his briefs and his trousers, pulling those on, but can't find his shirt in the moment.

He'll find it later.

The apartment is just as organized as he'd noted when they first stumbled back. His bag and shoes are still by the door. He stands, for a moment, just outside of Guy's room and waits for his nerves to calm. Closes his eyes and merely breathes for a second. He's never done this before, though he's been on the other side, making breakfast in his own apartment for a boy that stayed over. He can be gracious to his host.

Neil's still looking for work, ostensibly, and Gabriel's been in classes for almost a week now. Even though he maybe shouldn't, he's been spending a bit more time over at Gabriel's than is wholly necessary, but it feels nice to just be around him, to hole up on Gabriel's couch and tuck into his bed, to try his best on cooking even.

Now, Neil knows that he's got to say something to Gabriel at some point, but he still hasn't figured out how. So, in the meantime, it's been a lot of just wanting to be near him, to shower him in quiet, private affections that don't have to be met with anything other than a smile.

It keeps him out of trouble, at least. Looking for work, staying with Gabriel, trying to figure it all out. He doesn't stop thinking about what he's done, but it does keep him from doing it again. Especially in those long, quiet moments when he's standing in the kitchen attempting to figure out dinner while Gabriel works on his homework.

Neil's had enough to drink that it all seems like a good idea, but not enough that he's impaired, that this could be taken as a terribly bad idea. He's had enough that the idea has had time to really seem like a great idea, by the time he pulls his phone out and nervously sends a text. A quiet invitation. Maybe he shouldn't be so bold to assume anything, but he doesn't think he's assuming a damn thing. And, after all, it's not like the text said anything as presumptuous as come over let's fuck--Neil isn't nearly so crass as all that. But it's a clear sort of invitation, in private together.

When Neil gets the curricular assignment for his Senior summer courses, he feels a little fragile about it. He's grateful, at least, that the teachers are listed, that the English teacher is not the one from this term, and that the History one is. He still feels awful about throwing a spanner in the works of everything, about decimating his chances of just getting out of this whole situation and getting on with his life already; at least he'd managed to resurrect the corpse of his Science and Math classes, and hadn't needed to, amazingly, with his non-core classes.

But when he got the assignment, he was raw and fragile in a way that felt very dangerously like when he'd first arrived in Darrow--or, more realistically, like when he'd sat in his English classroom in Welton and lied to Mr. Keating and told him that his father was letting him stay in the play.

Neil walks for a long time after he's given the assignment, glad for the end of his day. Tries to clear his head, or at least think. And when he finally stops, it's because of gentle hands on his shoulders.

"Mr. Perry," Billy Rocks says, voice low and calm. He's still in uniform--and for good reason, it seems, since Neil has walked all the way from Darrow High to the police precinct where Billy works at. How embarrassing. "I was just off," he says. "You can escort me home."

Neil knows, from mornings running into Billy returning home from work when Neil's leaving the Bramford for school, that Billy does not go home in uniform. But in this moment, when he feels a bit like he's been run over with sandpaper, or something like that, he appreciates whatever lie it is that allows for this structure.

"Yes, alright," Neil says, and nods.

They walk in silence, in part because Billy has never been particularly talkative with Neil and in part because Neil is not feeling overly talkative with anyone at the moment.

But they don't head straight for the Bramford, which takes Neil a moment to notice. By the time he does, Billy is steering them into a booth at a cafe that, once, Neil went to on a double date. The memory feels strangely far away as Neil sinks into the seat.

"Call whoever you need," he says. "Order whatever you want."

Mostly, Neil just feels like breaking into a hundred pieces.

It was a passing comment at Valentines day, but Neil's been unable to put it out of mind, and so here he was, having worked hard on figuring out their schedules and his budget and a nice, but not too nice, place that they could go and get dinner together.

Dinner for a birthday seems like an important thing to do. And it's a Monday night, so when it comes right down to it, it's not hard to find them a table somewhere. But he really hopes that Gabriel's all on board with the idea. He's told him what to expect--dinner, dessert afterward at his place--but it's still sort of daunting to be arranging a whole date for Gabriel's nineteenth birthday.

And maybe he had other ideas for the end of the night, after dessert. But that was for much later. And it was a school night, so they'd see how it went.

Somewhere around eleven, Neil loses his shirt. He's not sure if he just took it off and left it somewhere, or if it got snatched off, or what happened, but he hasn't got it anymore, and it's going to make the inevitable walk home cold, but he doesn't care. He's drunk enough to not care, and the club is warm and close and wonderful.

He's been dancing for so long that he feels it in his thighs and his lower back, and it's a glorious sort of an ache. He's not ashamed that half of his drinks have been bought for him. Probably more since his shirt disappeared. Maybe he should slow down a little bit. But he's having fun. Glitter has ended up streaked on him, and he feels effervescent, glorious. Like one of the fairies from Shakespeare, but real.

He giggles to think about being a fairy. That's ironic, in a fun way.

Maybe he ought to switch to something without any alcohol in it for a little while.

It's a school night.

Neil is a little bit drunk, but he has a free period in the morning, so he's not too worried about it. He's trying to not be worried about it. He feels a little silly that he went out at all. It's the first full week of class, it's a Monday night--well, now a Tuesday morning--and he...

Well, he thinks he might have made a stupid decision. But the guy at the club had looked a little bit like Charlie and had bought him a drink, and when they fumbled their way into a bathroom cubicle, it had seemed a really good idea. The whole thing had seemed a really good idea. And now he's a bit sore and his feet aren't quite carrying him home.

When he pulls up short in front of Gabriel's building, he hates himself a little bit.

He goes up in the elevator, eyes shut, feeling dizzy. It's a short walk to Gabriel's door, and he knocks, wondering if the other boy is even awake. It is a school night, after all.

They go, hand in hand, having talked about what they may be up for tonight. It's not so different than his birthday, really, them in their tight clothes and a shield of false confidence, but more of an eye out for who might have their eye on them.

It had taken an age to convince Gabriel that this wasn't a completely ridiculous idea. They'd talked about where he was coming from. And when Gabriel had come around to the idea, to owning the idea and having control over it, they'd settled on a date. Now they were here. Neil was going to call this a date, because they were out, they were together, and they were enjoying themselves.

It was not the club that they'd gone to for his birthday. This was was dark, throbbing with music and bodies all around them. Somewhere else in the club, there were noises, and Neil knows what those noises mean. The idea of it thrills him a little bit. He keeps an eye out for anyone that might be watching, but mostly, he just relishes the feeling of being this close to Gabriel where anyone can see.

"I only ever swam in the ocean," he admits with a small smile. "Well, that and the river." But when he thought of the river too much, he thought of Henry Lynch and something in him shivered. He hadn't gone swimming there very often after that.

"We'll have to try the ocean, when I'm a bit more well dressed for swimming," Neil says with an easy smile. "I've only ever been to the ocean a couple of times. Sometimes, I forget it's here, you know? With the weather so nice, we should come down more often."

They cross from the sunny beach to under the pier, and Neil finds them a little out cropping of rock to settle on.

Neil's cheeks flame with heat, an outrageous flush brought on by an equally outrageous gesture. He stands still for a moment, tilting his head a little to glance over his shoulder and check, again, if anyone's nearby or looking at them.

He can't help that his hips lurch forward. Barely a touch, and he can feel himself stirring inside his slacks.

"Gabe," he hisses quietly.