polyhymina:

Okay, this got pretty long and it’s some kind of love child between fanfic and headcanon and was cracky in my head (all I wanted was Andrew covered in millions of tiny ‘I’m fine’s’ because that image is hilarious to me) but it turned out much more serious than expected and it was really fun, like wth.

Anyway, all I can think of is Andrew waking up one morning to find the words ‘I’m fine’ written on him. And he shrugs it of, because what does it matter to him.

But then they keep on coming. Every passing day he ends up with more and more lies, the most common of which is ‘I’m fine’ and he hasn’t even met his soulmate yet he already hates him, he hates him, he hates him, because his soulmate is a liar. And he’s had enough of liars.

(Strangest of all is the first time he wakes up to find a name written among the lies, barely discernible among his over crammed skin).

The years pass by and Andrew meets Aaron, finally escapes Drake and kills his mother. Aaron’s own skin is clear of lies, a blank slate where Andrew’s is more letters than skin.

(It nearly blew it when he killed Tilda. If she hadn’t been so inebriated then she would have realized she wasn’t Aaron).

He made a deal with Aaron, one the other agreed to with the reluctance of a man signing his life away, and Andrew wasn’t surprised- they weren’t close. Luther Hemmick took them in and with Luther came Nicky, the cousin whose skin was clear and yet looked like he was fighting himself. It was interesting to note that in contrast to their son, the parents were covered in ink the same why their smiles seemed fake.

(That should have been a warning enough, and yet Andrew hadn’t had many adults in his life who hadn’t fucked him over. He told Luther about Drake, not expecting anything from the man but wondering whether this might be the first time an adult proved helpful.

His expectations were too high even then, it seemed).

Swearing his parents weren’t doing a good job at it, Nicky took custody of them and Andrew was (secretly, he’d never say it out loud) glad of it. Nicky didn’t expect anything, he didn’t have ulterior motives- he just lived and tried hard to get the best he could from his lot. Things weren’t perfect, between the three of them, not in any way, but they were good.

(Then everything went to hell and he was forced to be on pills twenty four/seven. He hated it, the feeling of forced mania and knowing that it wasn’t his emotions- that they’d violated even his very mind, now.

He wondered what his soulmates skin looked like now- would these show up as lies?).

Wymack showed up shortly after and they were scripted into the Foxes. The people there were little more than a blip on his radar (they were interesting, perhaps, but he didn’t care. All that mattered were those he called His), but Walker caught his interest. Walker, the girl whose skin was almost as covered full of lies as his own, who taught him how to use a knife, who became someone he trusted. Someone he was willing to call a friend.

(She never mentioned who her soulmate was, but he wasn’t blind even if he was always high. He saw the way she looked at Reynolds, the woman who determinedly covered every inch of her skin in make-up so no hint of a soul mark could be seen.

He laughed, but the feeling wasn’t his).

For a while, it was just that- the three of them and the upperclassmen clashing at every corner, the rare moment of sobriety he coveted when he played (it was the only reason he kept at it, for that brief taste of freedom), but then Kevin Day came with his hand broken and asked for protection, for a deal (because that’s what people always come for. Something they need).

Andrew agreed and three moved to four. He regretted it a little bit, sometimes, as he wasn’t aware that protection had meant full time babysitter to a man who spent every waking minute trying to convince him to play exy, but he’d made a deal and he stuck to it.

(He wouldn’t become like them. He wouldn’t lie).

And then the name Neil Josten appeared on his skin. He didn’t think much about it until a few months later when Kevin dragged him to recruit a striker. All he saw of his soulmate were brown eyes (a lie), black hair (a lie) and clear skin (a lie, all of it lies), before he drove the racquet into his gut and the boy crumpled to the ground.

(He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t satisfying to finally hit the reason his skin was so covered in words, to hit the person who he was chained to. And yet, when the boy glared at him with fire in his eyes, Andrew felt like it may be interesting to peel apart the walking lie that was Neil Josten.

He did have a map painted on to his skin, after all. He would be a fool not to use it).

And yet, as he unravels the liar that is Neil Josten, something changes. Something forms that shouldn’t have, that shouldn’t have been able to form because he’s long stopped caring, but it’s there and it’s unwanted- it’s a side effect. A hallucination of feelings that the drugs are forcing on him.

And yet, Neil Josten refused to be dismissed. He pushed and pushed, trying to force something from Andrew, yet he never crossed the line. When he was told to stop, he stopped. He showed concern for Andrew and it wasn’t a lie, because nothing sprouted on his skin, and Andrew hated it.

(He hated that the more he learned about him, the harder it was to look away).

Then Proust happened and he came back sober, his skin weighed down by scars and lies, expecting it to be the end. Neil came back with a four on his face and Andrew wondered why those around him were self-sacrificing idiots.

(He didn’t hope. Hope wasn’t something he believed in).

Then Roland- stupid, nosy, interfering Roland- threw him under the bus and Neil confronted him. He didn’t lie, didn’t cut the truth- and yet Neil looked at him like he’d seen God and it made something curdle in his gut, because it wasn’t supposed to be real. It was supposed to be a delusion.

(He said ‘I hate you,’ and words blossomed on Neil’s skin).

And so they began to kiss, and it was something Andrew liked (the ‘yes or no,’ the contact, the way it let him feel human, for a moment. The way he was able to trust). But then comes the game, the request for the deal to be withdrawn, the ‘thank you, you were amazing,’ and Neil smiles at him in a way that he knows something is wrong, his instincts scream at him to not let go, but no words form on his skin, there was no lies, so he tries not to think of it.

Then the riot happens and all that remains is a cell phone and a bag. And in that moment he had never felt so powerless, so weak and frustrated as he was unable to do anything, to help as Neil was snatched from his grasp.

(He hated him, he hated him, he hated him).

Kevin knew something- of course he did- and yet he refused to share, too terrified as he chanted that ‘he’s dead, he’s dead.’ In that moment, Andrew’s anger exploded and he lunged at Kevin, he strangled him, he choked the words out of him because he was fed up of the lies.

(It took three people to drag him off of him, but it did the job. Kevin spilled everything about Neil- about Nathaniel- and Andrew’s skin prickled with every word.

Of course he’d end up with a soulmate who had more issues than he did height).

A few days passed- long days with no hint of Neil and a tension that was nearly suffocating- before the FBI called and they broke several speed limits rushing to him. And yet, when they arrived, the bloody FBI wouldn’t let them see him. They dithered and whined, citing every excuse they could think of as the foxes neared the end of their patience.

(Andrew noted that one thing that would unite them, it seemed, was their care for Neil. He tried to attack the first member who muttered-

“I don’t see why we’re wasting our time giving visitor privelleges to the son of a murderer.”

-only to be stopped and handcuffed to Wymack in an attempt to control him. All of the members were demanding at once whilst Reynolds kept up a steady stream of blackmail and bribery that he would have been impressed by if he wasn’t ready to bring out his knives).

When the door finally opened and Neil walked in, Andrew felt the relief wash over him in a wave. Then the face looked at him with new scars in place and he had to fight not to kill someone.The room around them was loud and Wymack was still close by, dragged there by the chain on their wrists, but all Andrew awareness was on Neil’s voice and the anger, the relief, the frustration that prickled in his lungs at every word, every meaning.

(He’d almost lost him and he doesn’t know how to handle that understanding).

Later, when they’re in the car, Neil asks him, “Can I really be Neil again?”

And for a moment, he thinks about the lie engraved on his skin, the existence built on a lie, and tells him, “I told Neil to stay. Leave Nathaniel buried in Baltimore.”

(At some point, it faded from his skin. Somewhere along the line, Neil Josten stopped being a lie.

There still remains thousands of falsehoods to be picked out from the chaos on his skin, but he doesn’t care. They have the rest of their lives to do it, after all).