Annabel

“Stop staring at Kevin so much. You're making me fear for your life over here."
"What do you mean?"
"Andrew is scary territorial of him. He punched me the first time I said I'd like to get Kevin too wasted to be straight." Nicky pointed at his face, presumably where Andrew had decked him. "So yeah, I'm going to crush on safer targets until Andrew gets bored of him. That means you, since Matt's taken and I don't hate myself enough to try Seth. Congrats."
"Can you take the creepy down a level?" Aaron asked.
"What?" Nikcy asked. "He said he doesn't swing, so obviously he needs a push."
"I don't need a push," Neil said. "I'm fine on my own."
"Seriously, how are you not bored of your hand by now?"
"I'm done with this conversation," Neil said. "This and every future variation of it. [...]"
The stadium door slammed open as Andrew showed up at last. He swept them with a wide-eyed look as if surprised to see them all there.
"Kevin wants to know what's taking you so long. Did you get lost?"
"Nicky's scheming to rape Neil," Aaron said. "There are a couple flaws in his plan he needs to work out first, but he'll get there sooner or later." [...]
"Wow, Nicky," Andrew said. "You start early."
"Can you really blame me?"
Nicky glanced back at Neil as he said it. He only took his eyes off Andrew for a second, but that was long enough for Andrew to lunge at him. Andrew caught Nicky's jersey in one hand and threw him hard up against the wall. [...]
"Hey, Nicky," Andrew said in stage-whisper German. "Don't touch him, you understand?"
"You know I'd never hurt him. If he says yes-"
"I said no."
"Jesus, you're greedy," Nicky said. "You already have Kevin. Why does it-"
He went silent, but it took Neil a moment to realize why. Andrew had a short knife pressed to Nicky's Jersey. [...]
Neil was no stranger to violence. He'd heard every threat in the book, but never from a man who smiled as bright as Andrew did. Apathy, anger, madness, boredom: these motivators Neil knew and understood. But Andrew was grinning like he didn't have a knife point where it'd sleep perfectly between Nicky's ribs, and it wasn't because he was joking. Neil knew Andrew meant it. If Nicky so much as breathed wrong right now, Andrew would cut his lungs to ribbons, any and all consequences be damned.
Neil wondered if Andrew's medicine would let him grieve, or if he'd laugh at Nicky's funeral too. Then he wondered if a sober Andrew would act any different. Was this Andrew psychosis or his medicine? Was he flying too high to understand what he was doing, or did his medicine only add a smile to Andrew's ingrained violence? [...]
Andrew let go of Nicky and spun away. [...] Aaron squized Nicky's shoulder on his way out. Nicky looked shaken as he stared after the twins, but when he realized Neil was watching him he rallied with a smile Neil didn't believe at all.
"On second thought, you're not my type after all,” Nicky said [...].
"Don't let him get away with things like that."
Nicky considered him for a moment, his smile fading into something small and tired.
"Oh, Neil. You're going to make this so hard on yourself. Look, [...] Andrew is a little crazy. Your lines are not his lines, so you can get all huff and puff when he tramps across yours but you'll never make him understand what he did wrong. Moreover, you'll never make him care. So just stay out of his way."
"He's like this because you let him get away with it," Neil said. [...]
"That was my fault. [...] I said something I shouldn't have, and got what I deserved.”
― Nora Sakavic, The Foxhole Court