Man on the Inside

27

Art doesn't double-text him at all. Neil just finds him sitting on his doorstep when he returns from dropping the kids off at school.

Art looks haggard. There are dark circles around his eyes, and that almost makes Neil feel bad- but he didn't get any fucking sleep, either. How are you meant to, when there's the weight of an entire moon on your chest, and your heart beats like you're running from death itself?

"Why are you here?" are the first words out of Neil's mouth as he's getting out of the car.

Art stands, slowly, like it's painful for him. "I feel like this is only fair."

"No, it isn't." Neil feels like he's going to have a heart attack. "I need time, okay? You can't- you can't upend everything in my entire life in a single week and then tell me- everything you told me and expect me to just accept that you're here, when I'm not ready to talk-"

He shuts his mouth, because Art's looking at him with such exhaustion, and he realises what he sounds like. "Maybe I did this to you. Fine. But I did it because I didn't know if you knew how much I-"

Art steps forward, and Neil steps back. That single motion makes Art deflate, and here they are, standing outside of Neil's actual house, which Art knew the address of the whole time because Nimm knew. "Neil," Art says, his voice choked, "I meant it, you know that? I meant what I said."

Neil covers his eyes with his arm, because he can't look at Art right now. He can already feel his heart returning to its place in his chest, just to break again. Art can't mean it. "I-" Neil stops. "Come inside. Right now."

Art follows him without question. Letting him into the house feels like the last erosion of boundaries, the last moment when Art isn't part of Neil's everyday life. It had to be this way. There just wasn't another world.

Neil can't help the snark that comes out of his mouth. "You haven't sneaked through my home before with a secret third identity, have you?"

"I'll never be able to apologise enough. I know." Art's voice sounds so broken that Neil regrets his words immediately. "I didn't go into it intending to deceive you, okay?"

Neil takes a deep breath. "I know you didn't. Do you want- I dunno, some water? A coffee or something? How the fuck do we have this conversation?"

"I don't know any better than you do." Art follows him into the kitchen. His ability to effortlessly blend into any scene with confidence isn't working- but not because Neil could never imagine Art in his home. Rather, Art looks distinctly uncomfortable and restless, and he moves like if he touches any furniture, he'll break it.

Neil's feelings are complicated, but not so complicated he can't identify pity. "Sit down," he mutters. "I'll make you a coffee."

He still struggles to mix Nimm and Art in his mind, to get it through his head that they were never different, as he makes up two cups. "I needed time mainly because I needed to figure out how to tell you," Art blurts out, and his eye keeps ticcing as he pulls out a chair at the kitchen table. "And to sort out the mess."

"Are you safe?" is the first thought that crosses Neil's mind. "From your mother?"

Art shivers. "I think I told you the important stuff. Like, that it wasn't fun, and I had to come out to her. Which she didn't take well. But that's my fault, I suppose- if I'd just shut the fuck up, she never would've known."

"But you're safe." Neil looks down at his hands as he's making the coffee. They're steady, at least. "She's not coming after you."

"She wouldn't. It doesn't help anyone for her to do that. She wanted reports of the empire I'm supposed to be building down here, so- so I lied about that and that's the main thing. But, um." Art's leg is nervously bouncing at a rapid pace. That's something he did as Nimm, too. "She wasn't exactly jazzed that you were a cop. I think she got your name from my contacts, maybe? But that appears to be all she knew- for whatever reason, the police part was a surprise to her."