Here’s A Promt. Like Andrew, Aaron Has A Similar Memory And A Couple Trigger Words Such As Being Called

Here’s a promt. Like Andrew, Aaron has a similar memory and a couple trigger words such as being called “ungrateful”. But unlike Andrew, Aaron shuts down.

Oh.

(cw: past abuse, trauma, trauma responses, apathy, foul language.)

"You're an ungrateful little bitch sometimes, you know that? Fuck, sometimes I really wish I'd given you up."

The first time someone called him ungrateful, Aaron tried to defend himself. It didn't go well for him in the end, but he supposed afterward that he should have learned how to duck from a punch before demanding life be fair.

When it happens now, Aaron knows consciously that nothing was meant by it. It's another matter of Coach being Coach, being a gruff old man with an attitude that Aaron normally admires. He likes that Wymack doesn't take anybody's shit, he likes even more that Wymack won't take his. There's some sort of safety in knowing he could be an asshole to the man and not get in any real trouble for it. (There is safety in knowing he won't be hurt for talking back.)

They're in the lounge when Coach says it. Aaron is perched on the armrest of the couch, with Nicky, Neil, and Andrew all seated on the cushions, and Kevin on the opposite armrest. The team is going over some basic shit for their next game, something Aaron has heard Kevin repeat time and time and time again. He's half-tuned out, but comes back to it when someone says something about dinner.

"You owe us, Coach." It's Nicky. He's whining about it, and Aaron tries not to roll his eyes. "We won last week, I think we deserve a team dinner after this week's game!"

"I owe you squat," Wymack says, his expression flat. "All the shit I do for you assholes?"

"Come on, Coach!" Matt this time, a grin spread wide on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Aaron looks back at Wymack.

For his part, the man isn't swayed. He gives Matt the same dead look he gave Nicky. "You're all ungrateful little shits," he says.

It takes a surprisingly long time for Aaron to process what's been said. The word doesn't quite hit him right away, and at least four seconds have elapsed by the time he really reacts. Ungrateful.

The world feels less real than it did five seconds ago, Aaron decides. He knows what's happening, it isn't the first time he's gone through this shit, and he knows it sure as hell won't be the last. That doesn't make it any better though, so he just as easily dismisses the past experience in favor of trying to keep up with the conversation instead of being unresponsive.

It doesn't work. Not as well as he wants it to anyway, and definitely not well enough to convince his family that nothing happened. Aaron can feel Andrew's gaze on him, steady and unyielding and oh so suspicious of the man he calls his brother. For a moment, Aaron wonders if he looks the same way Andrew did last week when Kevin said the word "misunderstanding". They both have their words, he knows, and now Andrew knows one of his.

The conversation is still going on, Aaron realizes belatedly. He's trying too hard to get his eyes to focus to really pay attention to it, and when he looks down at his hands they're so fucking blurry he's not even sure if they're his. They must be, though, because who else would they belong to? They can't be anyone else's hands, they wouldn't be in his lap if they were.

"Aaron," Andrew's voice says, and Aaron blinks and looks away from his blurry fingers. There's less noise now, and when Aaron forces his eyes to look around the room, he realizes that the others are gone. When did they leave? How long has he been sitting here? It can't have been that long, he wasn't — he wasn't gone that long.

Andrew is standing in front of him, he realizes — that's his face. That's his, his and Andrew's face. They're the same. That's his brother. Aaron wants to say something, tries to say something, but his voice isn't quite working and he doesn't get why.

"Aaron," Andrew says again, and Aaron returns his wandering eyes to his brother's face. Andrew looks... bored. Bored? Bored. He always looks bored, though. Except when he's angry. Or when he's talking to Neil. Or when... when he's playing Exy. Andrew likes Exy, he does, but he won't ever say it. That's okay, though. Aaron won't tell.

Then Andrew is holding up his hands, and Aaron follows their actions with his eyes. Andrew grabs hold of his hands, or at least that's what it looks like, but Aaron still can't really tell if they're his. He feels it, he thinks, but that could just be his mind playing tricks on him. The connection between visual reception and tactile stimuli fascinates him, but—

"Aaron," Andrew says a third time, and this time Aaron meets his eyes. Andrew breathes slowly, obvious enough that Aaron can slowly start to match it. It helps, he thinks, and his fingers twitch against Andrew's. Andrew squeezes his hands in return, not enough to hurt, but enough that Aaron can feel it. His eyes still aren't entirely focused yet, so he blinks a few more times, startles a bit when he feels tears fall onto his cheeks. When did that happen?

Andrew looks indifferent as ever, Aaron realizes as he takes another slow breath in time. There's nothing in his expression, but Aaron tries to see through that — Andrew stayed for a reason. Andrew's saying his name for a reason. A year ago, Aaron isn't sure he would have.

"Aaron," one more time, and whatever Andrew sees when they lock eyes again must convince him Aaron is okay. And he is, Aaron thinks, he thinks he's okay. Or at least he will be.

Andrew lets go of his hands and steps back, giving him another silent once-over before nodding to himself and walking out. The room feels empty without Andrew there, but it's enough of a motivator for Aaron to stand up and follow him.