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Stuart Hatford likes to think that he knows his nephew fairly well. Neil has been living with him for almost eight years by this point, and there are certain things you can’t help but get to know about someone after that long cohabitating. 

He knows Neil’s favorite sandwich toppings, his favorite and least favorite subjects in school. He knows what Neil looks like during a panic attack, and the best ways to help him calm down during one. 

For all that he knows about Neil, however, he does not know what has him glued to his phone, smiling and blushing down at it every other minute. God knows what a fight it was to get Neil to actually carry his phone with him in the first place, and now he can hardly part with it for ten minutes. 

Stuart has never seen Neil this carefree and bashful before, and he's certainly never seen Neil actually act his age for once in his life. 

He may not know the exact reason behind this shift in behavior, but he feels that he can make an educated guess. At dinner, he asks leading questions. Are there any new students at school? Has Neil been assigned any new group projects, gotten to know any classmates a bit better? 

Neil is cagey with his responses, which all but confirms it for Stuart—it would seem that his nephew has a crush. 

Things snowball from there. 

It happens so fast Stuart almost worries that Neil has been replaced by some imposter, one of those body snatching fellows from those movies his nephew enjoys so much. On any given day, Neil is diving for his phone less than two seconds after he gets an alert, his grin impossible to hide. He tries to smother it, but it carries up to his eyes, crinkling the edges of his features. There’s a nervous energy to him, a hum that even Stuart picks up. His nephew is secretive, but he’s not so good at actually concealing anything. Stuart will always be grateful he adopted Neil before that skill could be developed.

If Neil thinks Stuart isn’t watching when he receives a text, he’ll put his phone down, fidget excitedly, and then pick it up again to respond. Stuart can only shake his head; Neil deserves the teenage giddiness, as much as Stuart can’t recall his own from that age. 

It’s like that, and then it’s suddenly not.

Stuart realizes his mistake almost immediately as the mood plummets from cotton candy lightness all the way down into sludge. Ah, he forgot about the other aspect of being a teenager: doom and gloom. 

Stuart walks into the sitting room one evening to find Neil sprawled out on the couch, phone dangling limply from one hand. It’s a poor imitation of a tragic painting—except instead of a crying hero, it’s just Neil covered in granola bar wrappers, staring up at the ceiling.

Stuart waits for five sighs to elapse before venturing in with: “Neil, are you feeling alright?”

Another sigh. Neil’s gaze drags across the room painfully slow, blue eyes too tired for someone so young, and Stuart suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sure. Okay.

Neil looks down at his phone subtly before letting it fall onto the downed cushion below him, reaching to open another snack. Stuart thinks maybe, maybe, he should intervene. 

But he waits. 

Now, he’s not a bad uncle—he just likes to observe. Having all the facts is essential to a scholar like him, and if he’s being honest, he can tell Neil isn’t truly about to fall over the precipice. Stuart doesn’t like to think about it, but he’s seen Neil at the edge before. Unwilling to get out of bed, plagued with nightmares and panic. Before the addition of some anxiety medication and family therapy, Stuart had been genuinely worried.

This, however… This is the entertaining kind of despair. Stuart watches as Neil huffs around the house for a few days, picking at his food and eating through their snack reserves, before ultimately deciding it has to do with the crush. 

He thinks that’s the end of it at first. Puppy love doesn’t always pan out, and while this is Neil’s first crushing experience of being let down, he’ll get over it and bounce back like all teens do.

Stuart is very wrong. Not in that Neil gets over it, but that this crush of his is nowhere near over. 

Neil’s looking a little less cloudy when Stuart takes him to school one morning, but he’s still clutching his phone tight, replying often enough for Stuart to get curious. His nephew is biting his lip raw, fidgeting, but also so clearly in his own head. Stuart has never been the type to get into his nephew’s business if it’s not urgent, so he lets it be. 

It’s a quiet drive, a peaceful one, until Neil’s hand slams against the center console. “Uncle Stuart!” 

“Ah!” He doesn’t make the most flattering sound, not for a man of his age, but he’s not sure what else he’s supposed to do when his nephew is looking at him frantically. He swerves slightly in his lane, and the car adjacent honks at him. Neil’s borderline screech slices through the calm of the car, and Stuart hits the brakes at the next stoplight, quickly searching Neil’s eyes for signs of a panic or pain. “What is it?”

“Can you drop me off farther away from the front today?” 

Neil blinks, hopeful and buzzing with nerves, but offers no further explanation. Like his request is totally normal.

It takes Stuart’s brain so long to catch up, the car behind him honks for him to move. He drives forward, processing the words and only making himself more confused. 

Stuart leads himself through the process of elimination on why Neil, for the first time in all the years that Stuart has known him, doesn’t want to be dropped by the front entrance. Neil can’t be embarrassed by their car—it’s last year’s model, and Stuart prides himself in keeping it clean both inside and out. 

Is Neil embarrassed by Stuart himself? Stuart thinks back and tries to remember the last time he embarrassed Neil in front of others. Maybe at one of Neil’s track meets last year, when he brought that handmade sign to cheer him on? Though to give Stuart some credit, his wasn’t nearly as gaudy as some of the ones that other parents brought. 

It was tasteful.

But it had to be more recent to warrant this…

“Why?” he asks, trying not to give up his own sleuthing. He’s not sure if he succeeds, but Neil seems too preoccupied with his thoughts to give even a modicum of effort into his excuse. 

“Uh… I didn’t get to work out yesterday? I’m feeling kind of antsy, so the extra walking will be good for me! Yeah,” Neil says with a nod, and oh boy, Stuart knows he’d been initially thankful for Neil’s lack of lying talent, but now he thinks some instruction might be necessary. He watches Neil smile out the window, either pleased with his reason or the secret behind it, and Stuart doesn’t pry.

How can he, when Neil looks so hopeful?

He drops Neil off down the block as requested, the school in plain sight up ahead. Neil jumps out before the car even stops moving, saying his goodbyes before Stuart can scold him. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Neil run so fast, not even at his track meets. And all the while, he has his phone clutched to his chest. 

Putting the car into park, Stuart leans back, watching Neil disappear into the distance, and it all falls into place once more.

He thought his nephew’s crush was over, but it seems like it’s only just beginning. 

One

The true first marker of Stuart’s long suffering trial with his nephew’s love life is innocent enough, and it begins with one of their typical nights. 

Stuart is… not the best cook. He certainly makes an effort—and he has gotten a lot better since he became Neil’s guardian—but he will still take any excuse he can to avoid making a meal. 

Out of that avoidance came one of his and Neil’s family traditions, if you can call it that: pizza night Fridays. The pizza place in town has come to expect their weekly call—they’re so consistent that the workers there automatically ask if the Hatfords want their “usual” order. 

Neil is not a particularly picky eater, but he is also not the most adventurous when it comes to trying new things. Stuart is therefore thoroughly surprised when Neil asks for half of his pizza to be made with pineapple instead of his usual toppings. 

It takes more than a few seconds to process the request. Neil had made it without even an ounce of hesitation, as if it’s completely normal to change his order out of the blue. 

“Pineapple on pizza? Lord above, Neil, these yanks really are corrupting you. What happened to your pepperoni with peppers?” Stuart complains. He personally thinks this counts as a food sin, though he’s far from a chef. 

Neil’s blank stare turns huffy in a matter of moments, but Stuart catches the way he begins to bite his lip and move in place. There’s a ghost of a flush dancing across the bridge of his nose too. 

“I’m still getting that on half, I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this! I just wanted to branch out,” Neil says, instantly defensive in that way only teenagers are when questioned. 

Stuart’s alarm bells are going off, but he can’t pinpoint why. It’s too early to tell, but this is so unlike Neil. Well, not the huffiness, but—

“Branch out? My nephew? Next thing I know, you’ll be asking for dessert.” Neil’s dislike of sweet things other than fruit is notorious, and also a source of constant teasing from Stuart. What teen hates all sweets, down to whipped cream?

Stuart goes back to looking at the menu in his hands, but is quickly pulled back by the dead silence that follows the comment. When he looks up, Neil’s expression turns sheepish, and he responds, “Actually—”

And no, there’s no way that’s simply branching out. Stuart made Neil try a spoon of flan once, flan, and he gagged. 

Stuart can’t help himself, he drops the menu dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done with Neil?” he demands, gently grabbing Neil’s shoulders in mock outage. 

“Actually,“ Neil continues, shooing him away. “I want some of those chocolate cakes.” 

He says it so easily, but this time Stuart does catch the small grimace that tries to find its way on Neil’s face. Chocolate is by far his nephew’s worst enemy. 

“And you’re actually going to eat them?” Stuart questions. “You’re not just trying to waste my money?”

Neil’s innocent expression falls.

“Maybe the reason I don’t branch out more is because you give me hell like this when I do,” Neil huffs, rolling his eyes and turning away. Stuart rolls his eyes right back at Neil, though of course his nephew can’t see him doing so. Neil starts a mullish stomp up the stairs like he’s combating the injustices of the world rather than his uncle’s teasing. 

The bloody cheek on this one—if Stuart thought it would actually do anything to change Neil’s attitude, maybe he’d ground him. Though perhaps, in light of recent events, the threat of confiscating Neil’s phone for the weekend would provide a suitable incentive...?

Does Stuart really want to pour fuel on the fire with that one, though? He thinks better of it almost immediately, always a fan of keeping the peace where he can, and instead shouts after Neil. “Fine, fine. I’ll call it in right now!”

True to form, the person who answers the phone hears the Hatford name and asks if Stuart would like their regular order. He can feel the surprise and skepticism in the silence after he says that no, actually, he’d like to make some changes tonight. 

After confirming the order and putting the necessary cash on the table by the front door, Stuart settles on the couch and channel surfs. Given Neil’s grumpiness tonight, he doubts that they’re going to be watching a movie together. 

He’s proven right when the pizza arrives and Neil moves to carry his food right up to his room. In addition to the box with his pizza and the box with the chocolate cakes, however, he’s also carefully balancing both a glass of water and a can of soda on top. 

At Stuart’s raised eyebrow, Neil jumps to justify himself. Stuart half listens, and half contemplates what this all means. The change to the pizza order, the additional desserts, the two drinks… Stuart would bet that if there’s not someone upstairs waiting for Neil, there will be soon. 

He laughs at the thought, brushing it off, but pauses in his surfing. 

He stares at the reality television show, watching the events with complete disinterest as the thought sinks in. No, that can’t possibly be it. That’s something out of a movie, or at least something only rowdy teenagers did.

Not his Neil. 

Stuart shakes his head; there’s just no way Neil would ever be the type to sneak someone into his room, much less have the gall to order them food with Stuart right downstairs!

Right?

Stuart only holds out for about five minutes before curiosity gets the better of him. He’s just proving himself wrong, that’s all.

He mutes the television, and precious seconds pass as he listens. 

If for a moment he swears he hears a faint giggle through the ceiling, he finds plenty of reasons to prefer believing it’s a trick of his aging ears. 

Two

Stuart begins to wonder if his paranoia is truly unfounded. 

He glances up from his novel, bookmarking the place where, ironically, the young man sneaks out of his mansion to meet his lover in secret. Neil is standing in front of him innocently, and the only thing that gives him away is his fidgeting. He sways in place, unable to keep still. There’s a mess of home and garden catalogues in front of him. 

“Gardening?” Stuart repeats, testing the word on his tongue. “Why?”

As far as he knows, Neil has never been interested in the great outdoors apart from picking the best path to run for his morning jogs. He checks the weather, checks his trails, and then stays far away from nature. So hearing that his nephew actually wants to take up gardening sets off all of Stuart’s alarm bells.

He proceeds with caution, and Neil is quick to offer his poor excuses. 

“You’re always telling me to get a hobby and gardening is supposed to be relaxing!” Neil says, showing Stuart an article like that’s somehow supposed to explain the random request. It’s not the gardening itself that strikes Stuart as odd, it’s—

“Uh huh…and why do you need a trellis?” he poses next, looking down at the one Neil suggested. It’s tall and sturdy. Enough so to...oh...climb, perhaps. 

“The roses, Uncle Stuart. Duh,” Neil replies with another eye roll, and Stuart is getting a little sick of it. 

Duh, he says. But Stuart can’t really combat that with anything; for starters, he doesn’t have enough evidence beyond his nephew’s terrible lying skills and a hunch. He can’t deny he always talks about Neil picking up more varied hobbies.

To shoot down a potential one now would only cause problems and make Neil resent him, so he chooses once more to see how far this goes. 

Plus, the outside of his house is looking a bit shabby. 

“Okay, I can look into it,” he sighs, trying not to focus on the way Neil’s face absolutely lights up. “The best spot would probably be the side yard by my window—”

Neil cuts him off so fast it makes Stuart jump. 

“No!” Neil’s eyes widen, biting his lip to control the outburst. A tense second passes between them before Neil is clearing his throat, picking at the lint of his hoodie like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I mean...no, I prefer it be by mine. So I can see all my hard work.”

Neil smiles, small and proud. 

Ah, Stuart understands.

Someone has definitely been in his house. 

But okay, maybe Stuart can acknowledge a little bit of his bad parenting. Any wise adult might intervene at that point, grill Neil until he gives the answers he’s poorly masking. Stuart is simply too amused and too curious to let that happen, not yet.

In truth, he’s never seen Neil like this. Legs kicked up, swinging back and forth while he texts his crush or whatever they are at this point. All the dreamy sighs, giddy pacing, and uncontrollable smiles. Neil seems brighter, more confident, and ruse or not…

This person of his is the reason Neil actually puts effort into the garden. Over the next few weeks the trellis gets put in, and while Stuart expects Neil to abandon his pet project after that, he gets surprisingly attached to the little patch of grass. Neil plants a multitude of flowers that don’t really make sense at first, but the colors are bright and pair well. Neil never falls behind on watering them, and invests his allowance in the best soil for when it gets dry. Soon enough, vines begin to climb the trellis and the space below Neil’s window brightens.

Neil probably won’t admit it, but the activity does a lot to calm him. That, coupled with his first love, makes for one bouncy teenager.

Stuart almost considers letting Neil do the same in the front yard. Their home will be the envy of all their uppity neighbors. Take that, Mrs. Willcox. 

However, in the haze of peace he forgets that there will always be unfortunate side effects to living with a lovestruck teen. 

Well, unfortunate for him. 

Stuart hears it one night, the unmistakable scuff of something against the side of the house. Neil’s side of the house. He pauses as he passes the downstairs study, heart racing before he hears the hush of voices and the scuff of shoes. 

And fear melts into realization. Of course, he knew the real purpose behind the trellis, but he’s never heard such clear evidence of Neil’s crush. He waits for the footsteps to die down before he goes to his room, listening for the unnatural lulls in sound, like someone trying desperately not to make a peep.

Stuart is glad his room is far down the hall. At one point he goes down to get some water, and passes Neil holding two glasses. Neither of them say a word other than ‘goodnight.’

Stuart simply isn’t prepared for this. For all the damage his sister and her wretched husband did to his poor nephew, he’d been ready to shower the boy in care and affection, to teach him about all aspects of the world he’d been deprived of.

He had neglected to think about how he would handle this. But no, he decides. It’s time. He has to say something, no matter how inconsequential. 

He’s perfectly prepared to do so the next morning, standing in front of the table with his arms crossed over his chest. He can do this—he already has it planned out. Firm and certain. Yes.

He hears the skid of Neil’s sneakers as he bounds down the stairs, hooking a sharp turn around the hallway despite all the times Stuart has told him not to. 

“Neil, we need to talk about—” Stuart chokes and almost bites his tongue with how quickly his jaw snaps closed. 

Why? Because Neil’s neck is a kaleidoscope of bruises and teeth marks, mottled red and purple and blue. They start just under the corner of his jaw and continue down to his pulse point, down again to his collarbones before disappearing under his shirt. Those were most definitely not there when Stuart said goodnight to his nephew yesterday. 

Stuart is suddenly thankful that he had given Neil the sex talk a few years back. Figuring that the conversation was going to be excruciatingly awkward either way, Stuart had been determined to be as thorough as possible so that he would never have to broach the subject again. He’d told Neil about the birds and the bees, and he’d thrown in a discussion about the bees and the bees as well, just to be safe. They’d finished that conversation beet red and unable to look one another in the eye for a solid week, but at least Stuart had gotten promises from Neil that he’d always be sure about getting and receiving consent, and that he’d always make sure to use protection.

As Stuart coughs to try and clear his throat, he absently thinks to himself that he had forgotten how over the top teenagers took things with marking each other. Good god, he should get whoever left these marks a chew toy to gnaw on so they leave Neil’s neck alone. 

He’s not sure how serious Neil’s relationship with this mystery kid is—for all of Neil’s enthusiasm, Stuart is still unsure whether or not this crush is more than just the physical expression of built up hormones—but he thinks that surely this counts as overkill. 

If whatever punk did this wanted to make it clear that Neil was theirs, they have more than accomplished that. Neil’s neck is a neon sign in the dark saying that someone has laid claim to him. 

If this is to be a new trend, Stuart hopes that Neil invests in some turtlenecks or learns how to use concealer—whatever it takes for him to never have to look at another hickey on his nephew’s skin again. 

Three

The third time, Stuart doesn’t hear Neil’s visitor arriving. To be fair to himself, though, he did have a new painting he wanted to hang on the wall—perhaps the sound of the drill and hammer provided an apt cover for the clanking of shoes against the side of the house. 

He realizes not long after he hears Neil’s laugh echo down the upstairs hallway. Stuart loves the sound of Neil’s laugh, and in his opinion it’s something that he doesn’t hear enough. Though Neil has made great strides in his recovery from his… early childhood, he’s still not the type to give that carefree, full bodied laugh. 

His chest aches from rise and fall of it, the way it fades into restrained silence not because he was told to shut up or hide it, but out of pure breathlessness. It has him putting down his tools gradually, following the sound. 

Stuart can’t be blamed for wanting to see what’s made Neil so happy—maybe if he knows, he can replicate the results and give Neil some of the good humor he deserves. He doesn’t take the time to consider why Neil might be laughing alone; the boy’s not one for movies or videos, and it doesn’t sink in until he’s up the stairs and down the hall. 

Stuart makes his way to Neil’s bedroom and knocks on the closed door. “Neil, do I hear you laughing?”

There’s less a beat of silence and more of a punch, like Stuart’s mere arrival has knocked all carefree feeling and levity out of the room on the other side. He hears what sounds like a distinct thump, as if someone jumped onto the bed, along with a rustling of blankets. The springs of Neil’s mattress creak, and there’s a distinct shushing. 

Neil stutters. “I-I’m just watching this new comedian on Youtube! He’s um...really funny,” he tries, but Stuart picks out the lie in the statement fairly easily. Neil’s sense of humor is rather unique and morbid, if Stuart is being nice about it, and the idea of his nephew enjoying any standard comedian is hard to grasp. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure Neil only sees television or videos when Stuart forces him to watch the silly ones that pop up on his Facebook feed. He assumes those videos are outdated at best from the way Neil huffs about them. 

Stuart decides that whatever it is that’s making Neil laugh—and he has a feeling that it’s something to do with Neil’s not-so-sneaky sweetheart—he’s probably better off not knowing. Is that more avoidance behavior on Stuart’s part? Definitely. Does that mean he’s going to stop toeing around the subject and actually talk to Neil about it? Probably not. 

Or at least, not yet. 

These are the moments that make Stuart wonder if he’s a bad guardian. He likes to think that he does his best, but he was never prepared to look after someone else—someone so dependent on him and in need of his care and guidance. And for as much as Stuart loves Neil, he knows that Neil’s past… complicates things a bit more for them than it does for other families. 

Stuart does his best to be so, so careful with Neil; he’s seen the scars—physical, mental, and emotional—of what Neil has survived, and the last thing he wants to do is add to them. But at what point does he stop handling Neil with the kid gloves? How does he strike the balance between that care and consideration while also talking to Neil like the young man he’s becoming? Holding him accountable? Stuart still doesn’t know. 

It doesn’t help that even though it’s been a good few years by this point, Stuart still doesn’t quite feel like Neil’s caretaker. Though Stuart knows that Neil is his own person, it’s impossible to forget that he’s Mary’s son. Though his appearance may be all from that bastard, Nathan, Stuart still sees Mary in the set of Neil’s brow, in the way his smile quirks to the right more than the left. He hears her when Neil lets his sharp tongue loose, and when he throws himself so wholeheartedly into the things and people he cares about. 

The thoughts leave his heart heavy, but warm. Funny, Stuart’s not sure he’s ever felt this much for another person. He loved his sister growing up, but this instinct to protect and nurture is something he can only associate with Neil. He hears the smile in Neil’s voice on the other side of the door, and maybe that’s what finally pushes him away. Another time, he thinks for the billionth time.

Stuart goes back downstairs to finish hanging his painting, leaving his nephew and whoever is with him in peace. He does his best to occupy himself and make as much noise as possible to cover up any potential sounds he might otherwise overhear. 

It’s only later, when Stuart is doing his best to fall asleep despite his chronic insomnia, that he hears the groan of the water pipes in the wall as Neil’s shower clicks on. That’s not too unusual—Stuart knows that Neil sometimes takes a warm shower to relax himself enough to go to bed. 

What is unusual, however, is that the shower very distinctively stops… only to start up again a couple minutes later. Lord above. He does his best to not think about what could have possibly happened to necessitate both Neil and his paramour taking showers. There are some things that he really doesn’t want to know about his nephew, and Stuart has already been scarred enough by the damn hickies. 

Yet the visits don’t stop, and Stuart truly is in denial, waiting for the day they do. Every night he passes a closed door, and muffled whispers and giggles follow him to his room, haunting him.

And each time, he doesn’t have the heart to say no. No spine to put a stop to it. He remembers the feeling of young love, no matter how long ago it was. He spends so much time wishing Neil could have real, human experiences…

He can’t be a hypocrite now. How can he, when whoever this person is makes Neil sound so over the moon? 

Beside himself, Stuart thinks about investing in ear plugs. 

A few mornings later, he pokes his head into Neil’s open door to collect his towels, since they always do a joint basket of them twice a week. Neil scurries around his room, not nearly as organized as usual. The faraway, dreamy look on his face is one Stuart carefully avoids, though looking beyond it isn’t much better.

After all, the window is wide open.

When Neil hands him his towels with a sigh, Stuart doesn’t comment on why there’s double the normal amount. If he sees Neil washing his sheets more often as well, he definitely doesn’t comment on that.

Four 

Now more than ever, Stuart has been doing his best to respect Neil’s boundaries. This manifests primarily in staying well away from Neil’s closed bedroom door, and shutting himself in on the opposite end of the house to avoid hearing any sounds that might be coming from Neil’s room. 

He’ll attribute it to two things: firstly, his lack of desire to walk in on anything that he’d rather not see. Secondly, and in part due to the first, his inability to actually talk to Neil about anything related to romance or his (apparently very active) love life.

With those things in mind, Stuart still lets his guard down from time to time. He forgets those boundaries when he receives a letter in the mail about his and Neil’s vacation plans being cancelled. He was supposed to take Neil to the mountains during the next school break, but it seems that their cabin will no longer be available.

Stuart nearly winces as he reads the letter, climbing the stairs to Neil’s room. He supposes it’s best to rip the bandaid off now. Neil had been excited about the trip—Stuart’s sure he’ll be disappointed to hear about it. They’ll just have to find a backup plan, no big deal.

What is a big deal is Stuart’s mistake of turning the handle of Neil’s door without knocking. In the split second his feet hit the space in front of Neil’s door, he hears the harsh creak of the mattress and the frenzied rustling of bedsheets. 

When he pushes it open, he almost tries to grab the handle to take the whole action back, because oh, right. Neil’s bedroom houses two people now, more often than not. The first thing Stuart sees is Neil on the bed, hair ruffled and face sporting a full blush. He’s trying to smile as best he can, but the expression looks somewhat strained on his face. He’s trying too hard.

Stuart fully expects to finally meet the object of Neil’s affections, but they’re nowhere to be found.

Or, well, he should say they’re not in sight. There’s a particularly obvious lump under Neil’s comforter, toppled high with blankets and pillows while Neil sits atop the bare sheets. Oh yes, nothing to see here. Nothing to see at all.

Stuart is impressed by how fast they managed to move in the five seconds it took him to walk in, but the fact they were probably already in bed must’ve helped. Stuart tries not to blush himself. 

Stuart ignores the elephant in the room and focuses on relaying the news. “Neil, I’ve got a letter here from the mountain resort—they said that the rain has sprung a leak in half the cabins, and they’re playing it safe and replacing the roofs on the entire lot. They’ll still be under construction for break, so that’s our plans out the window,” he says, stepping further into the room so that he can hand over the paper. 

“Um,” Neil says, obviously still in the process of composing himself. “That’s a shame, Uncle Stuart.” He takes a moment to read over the paper, and Stuart takes that opportunity to look away from Neil and the bed. However, the room is not big enough that Stuart can’t see the lump of covers from the corner of his eye as he stares at the wall. He can admit that he’s grudgingly impressed with how still Neil’s… guest is being. They must be breathing very shallowly, because the covers aren’t moving even the slightest bit. 

Stuart turns back to Neil as his nephew speaks up. “You know, Uncle, it’s fine if we just stay here for the break. I know it’s a little late to be making new plans, and I really don't mind just hanging around the house.”

Stuart can barely stifle his snort. Yeah, he’s sure that Neil doesn’t mind out of the goodness of his heart. Not because that would give him more time to sneak his visitor over for dates or booty calls, or whatever it is they’re doing together. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Stuart says, just to have something to say at all. There’s no need for him to push Neil into an explanation, not when it’s painfully obvious. Neil can barely sit still even now, with his sweetheart mere feet from him.

Neil nods enthusiastically, and Stuart wipes his mouth clean of his own amusement. He turns back towards the door to make his exit, only to see something else that definitely isn’t there on a normal day.

Leaning against Neil’s wall by the door is only the biggest pair of black, lace up combat boots he’s ever seen. They rival the military grade ones, with platforms and a foundation built for stomping. It confirms for Stuart one thing he’s been curious about for a while.

Now, he’s well aware that the youth likes to experiment with fashion choices these days. People are not nearly as uptight as they were when he was in high school, and he’s always considered that a good thing. 

That being said though… There is almost no doubt in his mind that this is a young man’s pair of shoes. 

Stuart does his best not to draw attention to himself, or the fact he’d noticed the boots. Not that Neil is that aware; when Stuart gets to the door and turns around, Neil has already disregarded the letter to play with the edge of the blanket covering his guest, gaze lidded and so clouded with affection it’s almost nauseating. 

Stuart groans internally, and gives a sideways glance to the boots. They’re large, but the most notable thing about them is how muddy they are—probably from crawling through Neil’s garden.

Closing Neil’s door behind him, Stuart huffs. He’s going to need to clean those stains on the carpet, but at least he knows a little more about Neil’s boyfriend. 

Even if it is just his shoe size.

Five 

Stuart’s horror comes to a head when he makes the unfortunate mistake of forgetting to buy extra soap for his bathroom. 

It’s not a big deal, he thinks, marching down the hall to Neil’s room. He can just borrow some from his nephew for now and make a trip to the store after Neil is home from school.

The house is silent save for the creak of hardwood as Stuart moves about. It used to always be like this—quiet, serene. Now, he finds it a bit unsettling. It’s lacking the noise of a certain teen, the jittery footsteps and the squeak of sneakers Neil shouldn’t be wearing inside.

All in all, it’s a chorus Stuart has become so used to over the past few years. When Neil is at school, he can’t help but miss it. The house is seldom quiet even more so now, with the midnight whispers and questionable tilt of the trellis outside. 

He finds himself checking his watch a lot more often, waiting for the afternoon to roll around so he can pick Neil up from school and ask all the mundane questions he knows Neil would prefer not to answer. 

Ah, the small joys of parenting. There’s nothing quite like the look of despair Neil gets on his face when Stuart asks him about his comparative lit class. 

Stuart finds himself chuckling when he enters Neil’s room, heading straight to the small bathroom in the corner.

For once, he’s grateful Neil isn’t home. He’s not present to hear Stuart’s gasp of dismay when he chances a glance at the trash can and sees what he knows is a condom. He sees it in his peripheral vision, but that’s all he needs. He refuses to let his gaze settle on it, afraid of what he might see through the sheer material, but…

He’s not so old that he can’t identify it immediately, and the meaning attached. Lord above, oh no. Oh goodness. 

Stuart takes a step out of the room, turns around, and turns back again. At one point, he makes it down the hall before reversing and ending up exactly where he started.

Nothing changes; the condom is still there, uncovered and recent. 

He’s not sure what he should be more concerned with first—the actual confirmation Neil is having sex, or how terrible he is at hiding any evidence of the act.

This boy…

Neil is hopeless, but Stuart is the one who suffers in the long run. Is he going to have to bring this up? Is that appropriate?

Everything in his brain shuts down, until all that’s left is one thought: grab the soap and get out. 

A trip to the laundry room for bleach may also be a good detour on the way. 

The sound of the garbage truck down the street makes him jump, like at any second Neil could pop out of nowhere and then they’d have to talk about this. 

No. Not now. Stuart isn’t ready. He now sees the error of his ways; he should’ve addressed this a month ago, back when his suspicions first arose. Now it’s too late. 

He grabs the soap and books it out of there, doing his very best to think of literally anything else. He’d rather not ruminate on this any longer, because he knows he’s going to start asking himself  uncomfortable questions. Like, for instance, whose condom is it that he actually found? He forcibly shakes his head, because he’d rather not know the answer either way. 

If he can’t look Neil in the eyes later, Neil doesn’t seem to notice and Stuart is more than content to let it lie.  

Plus One 

Stuart is still so preoccupied with his earlier discovery that he’s neglected his schedule completely, unsure of how to approach this situation he’s gotten himself into. He realizes just before turning in for the night that he forgot to go out and turn on the sprinklers. With Neil’s new found gardening hobby, Stuart has honestly considered getting automatic sprinklers installed so that they could control them via their phones—he was thinking that could be a good reward for when Neil’s semester report card comes home. 

In the meantime, he groans, pushing himself up from the couch to make his way outside. He can hear music playing in Neil’s room already, and he shudders at the thought of what sounds he’s trying to smother. 

He grabs the hose in the front yard and switches on the water, dragging it with him as he moves towards the side of the house. Stuart expects to find Neil’s garden undisturbed, but Stuart’s avoidance and luck has effectively run out on this cold night. He rounds the corner only to tense up all at once at what he sees.

The intruder sees him at the same time, alarmingly vigilant. Piercing gold eyes pin Stuart to the spot, the boy’s foot mounted firmly on the trellis in mid ascent. His gaze is intense, borderline threatening, and Stuart has never seen someone fit the delinquent model this well. The piercing in the boy’s eyebrow glints in the last dredges of daylight, and Stuart finds himself gulping. 

If Stuart didn't know better, he would think his house is about to be robbed. The teen in front of him is dressed from head to toe in black—including a very familiar pair of combat boots that Stuart knows he’s seen lying on Neil’s bedroom floor. It says a lot that Stuart isn’t sure if this entire getup is a legitimate fashion choice on the boy’s part, or just something he wears to aid him in sneaking around Stuart’s house in the dark. 

Adding to the whole “robber” flair is the fact that the boy is extremely muscled—if he was here to actually rob them, Stuart is sure he would have no problems carrying the flat screen television out of the house all by himself.

This is the boy his nephew’s been dating? 

Although Stuart’s brain has pretty much connected the dots at this point, his body relies on initial instinct. So—fight or flight. Neither of which Stuart is great at. 

“Holy fuck!” Stuart raises the water hose in a knee jerk reaction, his hand spraying the boy from head to toe. Because what else can he possibly do? He wasn’t trained for this—this wasn’t covered in any of the parenting books he read when he first took Neil in. 

There’s no chapter on what to do if your naive nephew becomes enamored with a resident bad boy. When Stuart writes a book, he’s definitely going to include that. 

He’ll give the blond credit; he hardly bats an eye at getting soaked. He jolts a little, then looks to the sky as if considering how he’s gotten to this point in his life. He looks like he’s also seriously contemplating whether or not he should retaliate.

Maybe he does have some manners—that or he really, truly likes Neil—because he seems to decide against it as he pulls away from the trellis. He steps back calmly but makes no move to speak, fists clenched at his sides.

Thankfully, that’s when Neil opens his window. 

“Andrew?” he calls, innocent and laced with a warmth Stuart hasn’t heard before. He takes note of how quickly Andrew responds to his nephew’s voice, stony expression easing as he looks up at the boy. His hands still at his side as he and Neil exchange a silent greeting, and Stuart would almost find it sweet if he wasn’t so floored. Neil smiles for a brief moment before he looks over at Stuart’s less than amused face and realizes exactly what’s happening.

“Oh, shit.”

Language! But Stuart’s too tired to comment on it, so instead he throws the hose aside and raises his hands, expectant. Now or never. “Neil, you better have a good explanation for this.”

Stuart doesn’t think he can take much more. 

In that moment, he sees reality catch up with this nephew. Panic flashes across his blue eyes, clear from even this far away, and oh—Stuart probably should’ve approached that better, given his nephew’s anxiety. Neil’s body moves on its own accord, jittery and with only one goal in mind: getting outside, where the conversation is happening. 

Oh no. 

The air is punched out of Stuart’s lungs the moment he realizes what’s happening, but he doesn’t have time to call out to the boy before Neil’s foot hits the windowsill, fully committed to climbing out from the second story.

Andrew’s mind is faster than Stuart’s. 

For someone who looks so stoic and reserved, Andrew’s voice booms, a sharp bark that’s impossible to not adhere to. “Go back inside right now and use the fucking stairs, idiot!” 

Stuart looks over to Andrew in shock, seeing even more cracks in the mask. His jaw is clenched hard, not taking his eyes off Neil. It takes a moment for Stuart to place it, but once he does, it’s clear. The look on Andrew’s face is panic. 

Neil freezes, and Andrew’s face grows more insistent, challenging Neil to even think of arguing. It’s a sight to see, but after a moment Neil nods slowly to himself and disappears back through the window. Stuart lets out a sigh of relief, though he can still feel his heart pounding away in his chest. 

Of course, Neil is too on edge to actually think about practical details like putting shoes on before coming outside, which Stuart notices as soon as he sees his nephew coming around the side of the house. 

Neil’s feet are completely bare, and Staurt can already see mud and blades of grass sticking to them. If it was still summer Stuart wouldn’t care, but it’s an early November night and the sun isn’t out to provide its meager warmth. Neil isn’t wearing anything more substantial than a t-shirt and pajama shorts either, and Stuart can only imagine the cold his nephew would be feeling if he wasn’t so focused on his anxiety. 

Stuart decides that this is the time to intervene. He shepherds Neil back towards the front of the house so they can move this conversation inside, and turns toward Andrew to say, “This might be a new experience for you, but we’re going to be using the front door to enter the house today. I know it might sound confusing, but I promise that it’s actually very easy—perhaps even easier than climbing the trellis.” 

Neil’s shoulders tense up further, and Stuart knows the worst case scenarios are already running through his nephew’s head. It hurts a bit, the realization that Stuart truly does have the power to take away the one thing that’s seemingly been making Neil happy. It hurts even more to know that Neil is probably assuming that he will take it away. Regardless, they have to talk about this before they can even begin to sort it out.

Andrew huffs, but holds his tongue on whatever response he must want to make as he follows behind Stuart. Good. Neil keeps looking over his shoulder every other second to make sure that Andrew is still there, so Stuart is glad that he hadn’t run off at the first sign of trouble. 

Honestly, it’s hard not to have a little respect for the boy, what with his obvious concern for Neil and his decision to stay and possibly be yelled at by Neil’s guardian. Stuart forces his expression into a glare as he walks; no, he’s supposed to be stern. He can’t already be warming up to the boy already—not with how he’s been constantly disrespecting Stuart’s home and authority these past few months.

Stuart stops them just inside the entrance, and looks pointedly at Andrew’s muddy boots as he takes off his own loafers. Andrew’s vaguely murderous energy intensifies, but he does stoop over to untie his shoes. It’s hard to take him seriously, however, when he loses a good two inches of height in doing so—Stuart sees now that he’s even shorter than Neil, which is saying something. 

“Stay here, I’ll grab you each a towel,” Stuart says, and heads to the laundry room to do just that. He’s hardly gone for 30 seconds, but even so he returns to see that Andrew and Neil have gravitated together in his absence. They stop holding hands when they notice him, but it nonetheless warms Stuart’s heart just a bit that Neil has someone seemingly so dedicated to comforting him. The flipside is that it makes Stuart feel even more guilty for having to be the bad guy in this situation, for being the one to make Neil feel in need of comfort in the first place.

He resolves to try and sort this as quickly as possible, and doesn’t bring up the physical affection as he passes out the towels.

Another upside is that it’s even harder to be intimidated by Andrew when he’s wrapped in a fluffy white towel. It’s reassuring, in a way—it reminds Stuart that he is the adult in this situation, for however little he might actually feel like one. 

Stuart leads them into the sitting room after Neil has cleaned off his feet, not missing Neil’s shiver or how Andrew corrects it by handing Neil his own towel. 

Neil immediately moves to sit on one end of the couch, his legs drawn up defensively in front of him. Andrew moves to join him, and Stuart sees the split second of hesitation in his firm movements. It looks like it takes everything for Andrew to not press himself up against Neil’s side, but he restrains himself and leaves a strip of couch between them. Both their expressions are so solemn that Stuart can’t help but sigh.

This isn’t supposed to feel like a funeral. Stuart supposes that it’s up to him to take the plunge into the unknown. “I’m going to guess this has been going on for a few months. Am I wrong?” 

Neil nods into his knees. Andrew, on the other hand, doesn’t respond at all. Very helpful and forthcoming, the both of them. 

Stuart sits in the adjacent arm chair, nodding. He replays every incident in his mind, coming clean himself.  “I figured as much, what with pizza night all those weeks ago.”

He sees the moment the shock hits his nephew, making him look alive rather than like a convincingly realistic doll. Neil blanches, leaning forward in his seat. The blue of his eyes is electric, so unique and all Neil. No one else—Stuart doesn’t care what his sister used to think. “Y-You knew that whole time?” 

For the first time, Andrew speaks. “I told you you’re a bad liar.” 

Neil whines a little, drawing his legs up tighter against him.

Still, if that were the case, Stuart has one question. He regards Andrew steadily, combing his mind for possibilities before giving up.  “How did you get in before we got the trellis?”

Both Andrew and Neil avoid eye contact with one another, their respective gazes settled on the floor when Andrew finally speaks. “The tree outside.”

Good god. The tree to Neil’s window is a good four foot jump, at least. Stuart rubs the bridge of his nose, the headache growing at a fast rate. These kids and their absolute lack of care for anything resembling safety. Stuart supposes that when you feel strongly for someone you’ll do anything to be with them, but he wasn’t expecting for this level of Romeo and Juliet nonsense to be going on right in front of him. 

He’s just happy he didn’t discover them due to Andrew breaking a leg on his lawn. That’s when the exhaustion really hits him. It’s coupled with the bitter return of that guilt and shame. Stuart slumps in his seat, his failures staring at him with nowhere for him to escape. Was he really that bad a parent? Neil hadn’t mentioned Andrew—hadn’t mentioned anyone, not even in passing.

He hadn’t thought it safe to trust Stuart with his feelings, with his totally normal desires. Had Stuart failed that much to make his home accepting, to make himself someone Neil could confide in?

At Stuart’s clear disappointment, body drained of his usual poise and regal bearing, Neil raises his head in confusion. “Uncle Stuart?” 

The small voice is so akin to the scared one Stuart heard when he first came to pick Neil up, to take him to a home not yet fit for a terrified child. Neil had looked so lost, waiting for a heavy hand or reprimand. He had barely touched the food Stuart picked up for him, like it was a test he couldn’t afford to fail.

It broke Stuart’s heart then too, the way Neil had no choice but to believe in someone he’d never been particularly close to. Stuart promised that day he’d be someone Neil could rely on, but now…

Stuart looks to his nephew, both of them lost once more. “Did it never occur to you that I would have been fine with Andrew coming over to visit if you had only asked me?”

At that, Neil clearly doesn’t know what to say. His eyes widen, blinking in disbelief. No, of course not. Stuart shouldn’t have missed that, he should’ve been aware.

Stuart smiles sadly, and Andrew noticeably stills at the way Neil starts to tremble beside him. 

It’s a struggle to get the words out, but Stuart tries. In a small, halting voice, he adds: “I want you to be safe. And I want you to trust me.” 

A selfish want, perhaps, but it needs to be said. 

Maybe he’s not so much of an adult after all, but Neil had to show so much vulnerability from the start, had been through so much… Stuart can at least do this. At the end of the day, Stuart wants to be a part of Neil’s life, wants to see all his embarrassing crushes and relationships, wants to know his friends and be able to name the teachers who get on his nerves most. 

It might be an idealistic dream, borne from lack of experience. Stuart never had children of his own, so he’s prone to messing up. But dammit, he’s going to try with everything he has. 

Neil opens his mouth before snapping it shut, slowly lowering his knees. He yanks on his fingers, an anxious tick Stuart hasn’t seen in a while. It makes his feelings of inadequacy worse, but what makes him snap out of his self-pity is the way Neil looks at him next. 

Stuart hasn’t seen Neil actually cry since the first few months they’d been living together, before the therapy and medication. Somehow, he’d almost forgotten Neil could. But that’s stupid, isn’t it? With all the things Neil has zero experience with, for all the weight on his shoulders, there’s no way he doesn’t cry to himself sometimes. Stuart watches as Neil’s eyes tremble, not willing to give up tears but close to it. His gut twists painfully, his need to comfort immense. 

Andrew’s hands are like steel, gripping his own knees so as not to touch Neil either. He seems to know what Stuart does—as much as they might want to reach out to Neil in this moment, doing so would only distract him from what needs to be said. Neil’s trying to find the words, and it’s their job to be patient with him. 

Eventually, Neil’s breathing stutters, and he whispers weakly: “I’m still not used to asking. No one would have ever told me yes before.”

Stuart’s anger is a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. It’s still difficult to try and reconcile the sister he knew with the mother Neil had. He doesn’t know how his sister could stand by and let Neil be mistreated by that sorry excuse for a man—how she could watch it happen day in and day out and do nothing. Even worse, she contributed to it herself. 

He doesn’t understand how she let herself be warped into trying to protect Neil in all the wrong ways—how she drove Neil to isolate himself from anyone that could possibly see him, possibly care for him. Stuart had to fight to get past that himself, but he didn’t know that it was a war that he was still waging. 

Stuart watches the way Andrew glowers at the floor, all pent up rage and disgust for Neil’s words, or the people responsible for them. Stuart can’t help but wonder how much he knows, but he’s going to make sure he understands perfectly by the end of the night. 

Stuart’s not sure what he’s doing, but something in his gut simply tells him he has to do it. He’s never been the touchy feely guardian, because for so long the slightest touch made Neil flinch and Stuart hated causing him distress. But with this, he makes the effort. He approaches slowly, hands in full view, and grabs Neil’s hand. Like pulling him out of the car on the first day he arrived, Neil’s grip tightens in return. 

“I’m not upset with you, Neil—I’m more upset with myself. I’m still learning how to do this too,” he admits without shame for once, and he can tell now that he should’ve stated that at the start. Neil’s eyes widen in disbelief, not used to the blatant honesty from a parental figure. It makes Stuart question his sister even more,but it also t makes him more committed to putting in the effort. “But I will tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me: you can always ask me. It’s always safe to ask me. I may not always say yes, but I hope that I can always explain my reasoning so that you understand when it’s a no.” 

Neil’s eyes tremble again, unable to maintain the eye contact, and he stares down at their hands. Stuart’s not sure if the numbing grip is Neil’s acceptance of that or not, but he doesn’t dare pull away when he adds: “I don’t have a problem with you and Andrew dating. All I want is for you to be safe, for you to be happy. If he makes you feel like that, then… That’s all I want.”

Stuart lets himself get some satisfaction out of the way Neil blushes, his expression clearly pleading for Stuart to not embarrass him in front of his boyfriend. But Stuart has let some things pass unspoken for too long, and he’s determined to not stop now until he’s well and truly done. 

“I know all teenagers keep secrets; it’s part of growing up and learning to stand on your own two feet. But I don’t want these big things in your life to be something you feel you have to hide from me. I’m always here for you if you need to talk, but more than that I want to talk to you. I want to know what’s going on in your life. God, I basically came out and asked you if you had a crush back when school started.”

Neil is the color of a tomato at this point, and he finally breaks their hold to bury his face in his hands. “Okay! I’ll try not to keep any more secrets, just stop. A-And it’s not like I knew what it was like to have a crush! I didn’t know until later.”

Neil huffs, flopping back against the couch, and Stuart catches the way Andrew covers his mouth to keep any reaction hidden. 

Then, as if this boy hasn’t already put his emotions through the ringer enough, Neil tilts his face up at Stuart shyly. “And anyways, I think you’re doing fine, Uncle Stuart. Just by saying all that...really, you are.” 

Damn, Stuart refuses to get choked up in front of his nephew’s very intimidating boyfriend. He swallows the lump in his throat; he’s not done. 

In a perfect world, he’d just let them continue like this, giddy and drowning in one another. But he can’t let this go without settling everything—not with what Neil has been through, and not with how little he knows. 

Stuart stands, sending Neil an apologetic smile. “We’ll work on it. For now…” 

He casts his gaze towards Andrew, and despite his apprehension, he doesn’t look surprised by Stuart’s next request. 

“Neil, would you leave Andrew and I alone for a moment? Why don’t you go and put the kettle on for some tea?” Stuart asks calmly, keeping his voice measured to let both of them know they’re not in any trouble. Neil exchanges a glance with Andrew, who nods begrudgingly. Neil doesn’t exactly look the happiest, but the expression is less anxiety stricken and more pouty in nature. It makes Stuart smile, and Andrew has to look away. 

Neil leaves them slowly, waving back at Andrew before disappearing around down the hall into the kitchen. If Stuart knows his nephew, and he does in a lot of ways, the boy will have his ear pressed to the nearest wall trying to make out every word, so he keeps his voice low.

Andrew rises to his feet, on the defensive, and from that alone Stuart knows this boy has been through his own fair share of things. He takes a step back, bowing his head, but there’s no nonsense in his demeanor. He’s going to protect Neil too—whatever it takes. “I’m sure you know, then, that Neil isn’t exactly a normal teenager. My nephew has been through a lot of things, a lot of terrible things, and I never want him to feel that way again.”

Stuart assumes Andrew won’t respond, but it seems that he’s more flexible when Neil is concerned. The blond nods, the tension in his body obviously heightened. It’s like he’d fight the world too, but Stuart won’t settle for assumptions. He needs to know Andrew is going to be gentle with his nephew, regardless of how things ultimately run their course. 

“But, I know shielding him from everything is an unrealistic aspiration,” Stuart concedes. “Like I said before, I have no problem with him dating you—it’s obvious he likes you very much. I’ve never seen him so enamored with anything, let alone anyone.” 

Stuart finds himself smiling, but it’s soon diminished by the gravity of his request. “I won’t ask you to stay with him, or to understand every aspect of his childhood. But he’s come so far in such a short amount of time, and I’d hate for a bad breakup to be the thing that sends him backsliding. All I’m asking is that should you ever get tired of him, or if these feelings aren’t as serious from your side of things, that you at least be gentle with him.” 

It’s startling, how sharp and quick Andrew’s response is. It’s the liveliest Stuart has seen him, eyes catching fire and brow tight. “I’ll never get tired of Neil,” Andrew practically snarls. “And if I hurt him, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to him.”

Well. Stuart doesn’t mean to cast doubt on Andrew’s words, because he’s sure that Andrew thinks them to be true, but he doesn’t really believe them. He thinks back on his own ill-begotten high school romances—those fires burned high and bright, yes, but they were also incredibly short lived. While he appreciates the sentiment, Stuart doesn’t expect Neil and Andrew to stay together forever. Frankly, he’d be more surprised if they did. But Andrew’s promise that he’ll be careful with Neil is more than enough for Stuart, so he just nods and leaves it at that. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Stuart says, taking the towel Andrew hands back to him. For the first time, Andrew almost looks unsure, like he couldn’t have expected things to go this well. Stuart’s a little surprised himself, but it leaves him feeling lighter and more carefree than he’s felt in months.

He’s sure it’ll be short lived, knowing his nephew, but that’s what he signed up for. Kids—he’ll never understand them. 

“Oh, and for the love of Christ, take him on more dates,” Stuart adds as he leaves the sitting room, more than ready for a cup of chamomile and the comfort of his bed. “That boy doesn’t get out of the house nearly enough.”

He says it loud enough for Neil to hear all the way from the kitchen, and delights far too much in the anguished yell he gets in return. It’s twice as satisfying when he gets to the kitchen and meets Neil’s betrayed expression with a smirk of his own. 

“We can talk rules over breakfast—I assume Andrew will still be here by then."

Neil’s attempt at stomping angrily up the stairs is somewhat ruined by the fact that his boyfriend is trailing along sedately behind him. 

From the amused look on Andrew’s face as he does, Stuart starts to think they’ll get along just fine.