( he's wearing aaron's shirt. this, to someone who knows the varied differences between the two twins, might seem unusual for the worse of the two, andrew, provided that he generally keeps a very noticeable distance between them. sharing clothes is not pro quo, but today is not a day for regularities. it's a white shirt. it has a black line for a collar, and black lines for ends at either of his arms. it is, possibly, aaron's favorite shirt.
presumably murphy has seen him in it before. that's the point.
andrew is very aware of the contrasts that exist between himself and his brother -- the way aaron hunches his shoulders or the space he takes between steps, how his eyes flicker sharply when someone moves as if expecting a fist to come slamming back down on him. he has studied aaron for many years, very silently and when no one is watching, staring at the taunt draw of his shoulders and the way he attracts people, simply by being. andrew's antithesis, despite the similarities in their looks -- twins in appearance and not much else, except for the way their mouths both seemed to form infinite hard lines, permanent frowns. andrew is grateful for this, because he's fairly certain the muscles of his mouth have long since forgotten how to hold themselves in a smile, and that little tear in his facade could give it all away.
because those years of studying his brother, his twin, his whateverthefuck, have amounted to this: murphy tracking into the woods for some reason, and andrew with his eyes stuck wildly on him. he might be taking a piss. andrew can't be bothered to care, stalking in shortly after him, sharing a precursory look behind himself to make sure no one is watching. ( except axel. specifically, he should be there. ) )
Hey.
( he says. aaron tone of voice. fake life knitted into the single syllable, a softness he sometimes lets axel hear in the dead of morning when sand is still bedecking his eyes from sleep. hey. gentle, kind, light, aaron minyard. it's fine if it isn't believable. andrew only needs to trick him for a second, after all, before he gears up and punches him directly in the jaw.
he didn't mean to do that. he doesn't think he did, at least. he meant to talk, and warn, and say unfair things that he knows are unfair, but that need to be said in equal measures. things that start with i will kill you if and have a variety of different endings, all relating back to aaron himself. ultimately, it becomes this: andrew can't be fucked to do a thing for himself because he can't find the vanity inside himself to care, but when it comes to aaron, he will always put his life on the line. there isn't a single life more important that his, and -- andrew has to admit, a lot of it is their looks. that andrew could be looking into a mirror when he sees him, a less fucked up mirror for a future he might've had if his life and innocence weren't ripped from his seven year old hands, like a toddler stealing something from walmart. aaron's dignity, his purity, his goodness, his light, it's something andrew can and will die for, again and again and again. )
If you don't regret what you're doing, you will. One day. Be sure of it.
CHANGED MY MIND OOPSSSsssss
presumably murphy has seen him in it before. that's the point.
andrew is very aware of the contrasts that exist between himself and his brother -- the way aaron hunches his shoulders or the space he takes between steps, how his eyes flicker sharply when someone moves as if expecting a fist to come slamming back down on him. he has studied aaron for many years, very silently and when no one is watching, staring at the taunt draw of his shoulders and the way he attracts people, simply by being. andrew's antithesis, despite the similarities in their looks -- twins in appearance and not much else, except for the way their mouths both seemed to form infinite hard lines, permanent frowns. andrew is grateful for this, because he's fairly certain the muscles of his mouth have long since forgotten how to hold themselves in a smile, and that little tear in his facade could give it all away.
because those years of studying his brother, his twin, his whateverthefuck, have amounted to this: murphy tracking into the woods for some reason, and andrew with his eyes stuck wildly on him. he might be taking a piss. andrew can't be bothered to care, stalking in shortly after him, sharing a precursory look behind himself to make sure no one is watching. ( except axel. specifically, he should be there. ) )
Hey.
( he says. aaron tone of voice. fake life knitted into the single syllable, a softness he sometimes lets axel hear in the dead of morning when sand is still bedecking his eyes from sleep. hey. gentle, kind, light, aaron minyard. it's fine if it isn't believable. andrew only needs to trick him for a second, after all, before he gears up and punches him directly in the jaw.
he didn't mean to do that. he doesn't think he did, at least. he meant to talk, and warn, and say unfair things that he knows are unfair, but that need to be said in equal measures. things that start with i will kill you if and have a variety of different endings, all relating back to aaron himself. ultimately, it becomes this: andrew can't be fucked to do a thing for himself because he can't find the vanity inside himself to care, but when it comes to aaron, he will always put his life on the line. there isn't a single life more important that his, and -- andrew has to admit, a lot of it is their looks. that andrew could be looking into a mirror when he sees him, a less fucked up mirror for a future he might've had if his life and innocence weren't ripped from his seven year old hands, like a toddler stealing something from walmart. aaron's dignity, his purity, his goodness, his light, it's something andrew can and will die for, again and again and again. )
If you don't regret what you're doing, you will. One day. Be sure of it.
( he says, after a short second. )