Made of Stone (Neil, Neil/Lyle, Lyle/Neil; RSA)
Index/Timeline
Neil isn't stupid.
He knows exactly what Halle and Alle are, even before their little vacation and the way they come back and throw themselves into becoming fit with a purpose. They drag the whole rest of the house into it, to varying degrees.
But Neil watches from the laundry room when they're practicing alone together in the backyard; they're not serious about it with anyone but each other.
Part of how he's always known is in the way that those two always move: fluid grace that some might say was reminiscent of a dancer or martial artist, but Neil recognizes it on another level. It's being conscious of what they're doing, of what muscle is pushing and what muscle is pulling, of what the end point is and why they're headed there.
He's not going to say that killers are the only people that have that kind of mindfulness about themselves. He is, however, going to say that since the Haptisms clearly don't have any hobbies (fucking has never been and will never be a hobby, despite what Lyle wants Neil to believe) then they must be keeping that mindfulness, that purposeful grace, for some other reason.
And killing is, for them, as good a reason as any. Especially considering the way that Lyle met the two of them.
So, yeah: Neil isn't stupid. He knows what they are. He knows exactly, exactly what they do, even if their methods probably differ from Neil's. But the house has struck a delicate sort of balance, and he's not going to fuck with that until he has to.
◊
'Until he has to' ends up coming sooner rather than later. Three months after the Haptisms return from Vietnam, Halle announces that they're going on another vacation, and that this time Lyle is going to come with them.
For a moment, Neil is so blindingly angry that he wants to tackle Halle and shove a gun down his throat and pull the trigger until the clip's empty. The way Halle's expression tightens around the eyes and in the lips is almost visceral for Neil, and for long moments he can't breathe. Then Halle looks away--dismissing him--and Neil gasps for breath, more glad than he could ever hope to express that Halle then turns his attention to Alle.
Neil's killed people, yes. Seven people. But he's not a serial killer; he doesn't enjoy it. He just gets angry and kills someone and then very calmly cleans up after himself.
Halle is a serial killer. Halle does enjoy it.
Neil's gut knows it, too. He has to go to his room and get out all his guns--illegal, but so effective for his purposes--and load and unload them all in careful order before he feels safe enough to breathe normally again.
And then? Then it's time to go find Lyle, and give the fucker a piece of Neil's mind. Because Lyle carefully absented himself during the announcement, which means he knew exactly what kind of reaction Neil would have and didn't want to have that discussion in front of the Haptisms.
◊
"That was pretty fucking smooth," Neil says, when he finds Lyle in the back yard, sitting in a lawn chair and watching the sun set. They used to do it when they were kids, because they didn't enjoy television and everyone else wanted to watch some show or another.
Lyle doesn't look away from the wash of warm colors. "It was pretty clumsy, actually. Halle thinks I have some sort of nefarious purposes for wanting to do it that way."
"That's because you do have nefarious purposes, jackass." Neil didn't yell, which he counted as a point for his self-control.
"Since when is wanting to talk to my dear older brother a nefarious purpose?"
Neil tells himself that Lyle's tone, Lyle's words, are calculated to push his buttons. No one knows like Lyle exactly how to push Neil right over the edge, but Neil won't give him the satisfaction--or at least not yet. "This probably rates fairly high on the 'stupidest shit you've ever done' scale."
Lyle snorts. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? I'm beginning to wonder if the size of Halle's cock isn't going to your head or something, and making you have delusions of grandeur just like him."
The way Lyle looks away says that he doesn't care about what Neil's saying, that he isn't listening.
"Hey!" Neil all but yells. Softer, he continues, "Hey. I'm just worried about you. You know they're-- You know what they are, right?"
A nod, though Lyle's still looking away.
Neil just feels tired, all of the sudden. Tired of fighting this. "What makes you think you'll handle it any better with them than you did with me?"
"Because it's my choice this time," Lyle says, with feeling. "Because I'm choosing to let them draw me into it, instead of being forced in headfirst by your fucking--"
"Shut up," Neil says, barely above a whisper.
"By your fucking anger issues--"
"Shut up."
"Because you can't goddamn control yourself and keep from murdering anyone who had to do with--"
"Shut up," Neil shouts it now, not caring who hears it.
But Lyle doesn't stop; he's on a roll now. "With the bomb that killed mom and dad and Amy! Face it, Neil: Halle has self-control. You don't."
Neil backhands Lyle so hard that Lyle's chair tips back, and drags his brother out of it. The sound of fabric ripping isn't that loud with the noise from insects all around, but it sounds loud to Neil because it feeds the erection rapidly growing in his jeans. "Why can't you just leave well enough a-fucking-lone?" he growls as he battles between tearing at Lyle's clothes and keeping Lyle down.
If it weren't for the fact that it's pretty fucking hard to go from on your back to on top of a fight--not when Neil's not leaning forward enough to gift Lyle with enough leverage to throw him off--Lyle would probably be up and doing the same goddamn thing to Neil right now.
When his jeans are off and his shirt only hanging on by merit of the fact that their struggles haven't ripped the sleeves, Neil wishes fervently for some lubricant. Then he thinks: Lyle's been carrying it lately. Thanks to the Haptisms. And he leaves Lyle long enough to fetch his jeans and find it, in one of the back pockets.
In that time, Lyle manages to get up and then the two of them wrestle, but it's hopeless; Lyle ends up on top and now it's Neil's clothes being pulled off with ruthless efficiency.
"This is what you do with your skills?" Neil hisses out, more out of spite than any hope that the words will make Lyle stop.
Lyle doesn't miss a beat, already slicking his fingers up and sliding two inside of Neil. Halle doesn't like Lyle and Neil to fuck, generally, but Lichty has been a willing partner as long as Neil bottoms so it's not like he's out of practice. He doesn't make any verbal response to Neil's words; his actions are response enough.
"God, I can't believe--what's Halle going to say, huh?" Neil laughs, short and sharp; Halle's made a few threats. "What's he--"
All at once, Lyle pushes his cock inside of Neil.
Neil hisses at the suddenness, at the way Lyle's fingers dig into his flesh. "You're becoming a sadist at this rate."
Lyle laughs, and before he's done begins fucking Neil. Hard, ruthless strokes that make Neil squirm and moan in something akin to pleasure but not quite there, too tinged with pain for real enjoyment.
The little sounds, grunts, that Lyle makes as he pushes his cock in, over and over, are gorgeous in their own way. They're a good match to the expression on Lyle's face, utterly focused and determined and as angry as Neil.
He choose his moment well, waiting until Lyle's nearly coming, holding Neil as tight as possible. Orgasm hits him hard, and he can't help but loosen his grip a little; Neil wrestles him to the ground in those seconds.
Because it's Lyle, and because Neil's frustrated and angry and wants very much for Lyle to just belong to him again, suicidal tendencies or no, Neil pushes inside of Lyle without prep.
Lyle makes a strangled sort of sound and rocks back against the intrusion. It's far too soon for him to come again, but that won't stop him from enjoying it.
"Does he do this?" Neil asks, growls, as he holds Lyle down and fucks him from behind. Lyle's back is bowed, and Neil can lean down to bite Lyle's ear without too much difficulty, delivering the next words there: "Does Halle fuck you when you can't even come?"
He's not even sure that he wants an answer; he gets one anyway: a breathy, broken-sounding no.
But even that's not enough to stop Neil right now. He fucks Lyle fast and hard and comes easily, shuddering above his brother and then all but collapsing next to him.
When he raises his head to look around, Halle's standing on the back porch, and Alle's face is in the window.
Motherfucker, he thinks, and sighs and closes his eyes. At least they're not interfering.
"You're not going to stop me," Lyle says, after a short while made of panting evening out and heartrates slowing and sweat drying on their skin.
Neil sighs again. "Whatever. What does it matter if you get killed, right? It's not like you have a brother that gives a fuck about you and doesn't want you to risk your stupid life on something like this."
Lyle shakes his head. "You don't understand." He pushes himself up, gathers his clothes, and goes into the house. The moment when he stops on the porch and very purposefully kisses Halle, slow and sensual, is heartbreaking for Neil.
You stupid, stupid man.
He'll find a way to prevent this, though. Come hell or high water.
◊
The natural progression in trying to stop it is to try to stop it at the source: Halle. The bastard decides to just take Lyle with him after Neil's worked so hard to keep his little brother safe.
But then he thinks, he thinks maybe... maybe Halle doesn't know how hard Neil's worked. Maybe he needs a fucking lesson in Dylandy politics, and to know that neither one of them are submissive and going to just let themselves be left out from or strung along with anything against their will.
Neil's fairly sure if he bothered saying anything like that, Halle would waste no time introducing his fists to Neil's face. Or his kidneys.
Right.
Plan C, then.
◊
"Hey, Alle," Neil says as he sits down next to Alle on the couch.
Alle's watching some program about baby pandas, sitting with his legs crossed and leaning forward, engrossed. It'd be kind of adorable if he weren't quietly psycho.
"Alle." Neil touches him gently.
With a start, Alle turns toward him. "Oh! Neil. How are you?" He smiles, but there's a forced, false quality to it.
"Worried about you taking Lyle with you, actually."
Alle's cheeks turn red and he looks away. "Yeah. He mentioned. Halle too. I'm not sure why--"
"You're the older one, right? Between you and Halle." Neil tries to make it sound like a casual observation, although it took a fair bit of digging to get that out of Lyle.
"Yes?"
Neil gives him a smile that he hopes looks at least partially innocent. "I just wondered if you knew what I feel, when it comes to protecting your--" he intends going to say little brother, but he'll eat his shoes if that's the way Alle thinks of his brother. "--Your Halle."
"Maybe?" He sounds a little confused.
Damn. Neil bites his lip. "Look, I've--I've worked really fucking hard to keep Lyle safe. If he goes off and does this with you two, it'll have been for nothing. He'll--things could happen, you know?"
Alle shakes his head. "Unlikely. We've been doing this for..." he trails off and looks away again. "A long time. So. We're not going to get caught, and we'll keep him safe."
Somehow Neil actually believes it, when he hears it from Alle's lips. He doesn't want to trust, but his choices are to trust or to just... be crazy-protective and angry and-- fuck, he doesn't want to do this for the rest of Lyle's life. "Okay."
◊
Unfortunately, it's just not as easy as deciding to let it happen. Neil fucks Lyle the night before he leaves, when Halle and Alle are out doing something or other. Lyle doesn't try to stop him, actually encouraging it.
Maybe Halle's lack of giving a fuck last time has made them bold, or it's just adrenaline and pent up emotions.
He wishes that he could leave a mark on Lyle. Wishes that he could just... just do something that would stake his own claim.
But that would be stupid. He's not a sociopath; he's not Halle.
They fuck again in the necessary shower after the sex. And one more time, on the floor of the bathroom. Neil holds Lyle close, on top of him, smiling at the taste of Lyle on his tongue and the way Lyle's gaze is hooded and gorgeous.
"Be safe," Neil says, with feeling.
Lyle kisses him. "I will."
It's a lie; Lyle's never safe. He's always dangerous. But Neil can't do anything other than pull Lyle's body tighter against his own and breathe in the scent of Lyle's hair and try to cement this feeling, this smell and touch and sight and taste and sound, into his mind. Just in case.
◊
There's no retribution for this round of fucking, either. Or Halle's just going to do it when he gets back. Either way, Neil is off scot-free for the moment.
And stuck worrying. Worrying so hard. Lyle said that they can't call, because calls can be tracked, so there's no contact at all for two weeks.
Lyle has a new injury when they come back, right above his left eyebrow, a short but deep cut that's stitched closed. It'll probably scar. But he comes bearing gifts from Greece for all of the housemates, and so full of vibrancy that Neil can't decide between relief and jealousy and-- other things.
"It'll be okay," Lyle tells him later, when the Haptisms are upstairs fucking. They're loud; they're always so loud. Lyle insists that it's just Alle, but Neil is fairly sure Halle contributes as well. "It was just this once. I had to see."
That doesn't make me feel any better, Neil thinks. "And, what? You think I'm made of stone or something and wouldn't give a fuck because you just had to see?"
Lyle's expression says that he doesn't care; it was about his relationship with the Haptisms, not about Neil or anything else.
"Am I going to get killed if I jump you now?" Neil doesn't think he will, but it never hurts to check and see. The words draw a laugh out of Lyle, though, so Neil's glad he said them. "Well? Am I?"
"No," Lyle says, with a devious grin. "I'm actually allowed to fuck you, as long as Halle doesn't see it again."
Neil wonders exactly how long that rule has been in effect, and anger washes over him again.
Lucky for him, Lyle senses the change and stands, stretching. "Looking forward to sleeping in my own bed." He yawns; Neil can't tell if it's fake or not. "Night, Neil."
"Night, Lyle."
Neil reminds himself again that he is not Halle. He's not some psycho. He's not going to chase after Lyle and fuck him on the stairs or something. Even if the idea alone is getting him hard; even if it's nothing more than what Lyle deserves. He clenches his teeth and balls his hands into fists until he can't hear the stairs creaking anymore.
He lets out the breath he didn't even realize he was holding until this moment, and flops backward against the couch. Fucking Lyle.
"Neil?" Lichty asks, from the direction of the kitchen.
"Fuck off," Neil snaps at him, and drags himself up off of the couch and to his room. If he can't fuck Lyle and he can't fuck Lichty, he can at least masturbate until he's sore. It won't matter, then, that he wants to do to Lyle all of the things Halle has done and more.
If it's all in his head, then he really can pretend to be made of stone.
The whole thing is a stupid idea, but he does it anyway.
Neil isn't stupid.
He knows exactly what Halle and Alle are, even before their little vacation and the way they come back and throw themselves into becoming fit with a purpose. They drag the whole rest of the house into it, to varying degrees.
But Neil watches from the laundry room when they're practicing alone together in the backyard; they're not serious about it with anyone but each other.
Part of how he's always known is in the way that those two always move: fluid grace that some might say was reminiscent of a dancer or martial artist, but Neil recognizes it on another level. It's being conscious of what they're doing, of what muscle is pushing and what muscle is pulling, of what the end point is and why they're headed there.
He's not going to say that killers are the only people that have that kind of mindfulness about themselves. He is, however, going to say that since the Haptisms clearly don't have any hobbies (fucking has never been and will never be a hobby, despite what Lyle wants Neil to believe) then they must be keeping that mindfulness, that purposeful grace, for some other reason.
And killing is, for them, as good a reason as any. Especially considering the way that Lyle met the two of them.
So, yeah: Neil isn't stupid. He knows what they are. He knows exactly, exactly what they do, even if their methods probably differ from Neil's. But the house has struck a delicate sort of balance, and he's not going to fuck with that until he has to.
◊
'Until he has to' ends up coming sooner rather than later. Three months after the Haptisms return from Vietnam, Halle announces that they're going on another vacation, and that this time Lyle is going to come with them.
For a moment, Neil is so blindingly angry that he wants to tackle Halle and shove a gun down his throat and pull the trigger until the clip's empty. The way Halle's expression tightens around the eyes and in the lips is almost visceral for Neil, and for long moments he can't breathe. Then Halle looks away--dismissing him--and Neil gasps for breath, more glad than he could ever hope to express that Halle then turns his attention to Alle.
Neil's killed people, yes. Seven people. But he's not a serial killer; he doesn't enjoy it. He just gets angry and kills someone and then very calmly cleans up after himself.
Halle is a serial killer. Halle does enjoy it.
Neil's gut knows it, too. He has to go to his room and get out all his guns--illegal, but so effective for his purposes--and load and unload them all in careful order before he feels safe enough to breathe normally again.
And then? Then it's time to go find Lyle, and give the fucker a piece of Neil's mind. Because Lyle carefully absented himself during the announcement, which means he knew exactly what kind of reaction Neil would have and didn't want to have that discussion in front of the Haptisms.
◊
"That was pretty fucking smooth," Neil says, when he finds Lyle in the back yard, sitting in a lawn chair and watching the sun set. They used to do it when they were kids, because they didn't enjoy television and everyone else wanted to watch some show or another.
Lyle doesn't look away from the wash of warm colors. "It was pretty clumsy, actually. Halle thinks I have some sort of nefarious purposes for wanting to do it that way."
"That's because you do have nefarious purposes, jackass." Neil didn't yell, which he counted as a point for his self-control.
"Since when is wanting to talk to my dear older brother a nefarious purpose?"
Neil tells himself that Lyle's tone, Lyle's words, are calculated to push his buttons. No one knows like Lyle exactly how to push Neil right over the edge, but Neil won't give him the satisfaction--or at least not yet. "This probably rates fairly high on the 'stupidest shit you've ever done' scale."
Lyle snorts. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? I'm beginning to wonder if the size of Halle's cock isn't going to your head or something, and making you have delusions of grandeur just like him."
The way Lyle looks away says that he doesn't care about what Neil's saying, that he isn't listening.
"Hey!" Neil all but yells. Softer, he continues, "Hey. I'm just worried about you. You know they're-- You know what they are, right?"
A nod, though Lyle's still looking away.
Neil just feels tired, all of the sudden. Tired of fighting this. "What makes you think you'll handle it any better with them than you did with me?"
"Because it's my choice this time," Lyle says, with feeling. "Because I'm choosing to let them draw me into it, instead of being forced in headfirst by your fucking--"
"Shut up," Neil says, barely above a whisper.
"By your fucking anger issues--"
"Shut up."
"Because you can't goddamn control yourself and keep from murdering anyone who had to do with--"
"Shut up," Neil shouts it now, not caring who hears it.
But Lyle doesn't stop; he's on a roll now. "With the bomb that killed mom and dad and Amy! Face it, Neil: Halle has self-control. You don't."
Neil backhands Lyle so hard that Lyle's chair tips back, and drags his brother out of it. The sound of fabric ripping isn't that loud with the noise from insects all around, but it sounds loud to Neil because it feeds the erection rapidly growing in his jeans. "Why can't you just leave well enough a-fucking-lone?" he growls as he battles between tearing at Lyle's clothes and keeping Lyle down.
If it weren't for the fact that it's pretty fucking hard to go from on your back to on top of a fight--not when Neil's not leaning forward enough to gift Lyle with enough leverage to throw him off--Lyle would probably be up and doing the same goddamn thing to Neil right now.
When his jeans are off and his shirt only hanging on by merit of the fact that their struggles haven't ripped the sleeves, Neil wishes fervently for some lubricant. Then he thinks: Lyle's been carrying it lately. Thanks to the Haptisms. And he leaves Lyle long enough to fetch his jeans and find it, in one of the back pockets.
In that time, Lyle manages to get up and then the two of them wrestle, but it's hopeless; Lyle ends up on top and now it's Neil's clothes being pulled off with ruthless efficiency.
"This is what you do with your skills?" Neil hisses out, more out of spite than any hope that the words will make Lyle stop.
Lyle doesn't miss a beat, already slicking his fingers up and sliding two inside of Neil. Halle doesn't like Lyle and Neil to fuck, generally, but Lichty has been a willing partner as long as Neil bottoms so it's not like he's out of practice. He doesn't make any verbal response to Neil's words; his actions are response enough.
"God, I can't believe--what's Halle going to say, huh?" Neil laughs, short and sharp; Halle's made a few threats. "What's he--"
All at once, Lyle pushes his cock inside of Neil.
Neil hisses at the suddenness, at the way Lyle's fingers dig into his flesh. "You're becoming a sadist at this rate."
Lyle laughs, and before he's done begins fucking Neil. Hard, ruthless strokes that make Neil squirm and moan in something akin to pleasure but not quite there, too tinged with pain for real enjoyment.
The little sounds, grunts, that Lyle makes as he pushes his cock in, over and over, are gorgeous in their own way. They're a good match to the expression on Lyle's face, utterly focused and determined and as angry as Neil.
He choose his moment well, waiting until Lyle's nearly coming, holding Neil as tight as possible. Orgasm hits him hard, and he can't help but loosen his grip a little; Neil wrestles him to the ground in those seconds.
Because it's Lyle, and because Neil's frustrated and angry and wants very much for Lyle to just belong to him again, suicidal tendencies or no, Neil pushes inside of Lyle without prep.
Lyle makes a strangled sort of sound and rocks back against the intrusion. It's far too soon for him to come again, but that won't stop him from enjoying it.
"Does he do this?" Neil asks, growls, as he holds Lyle down and fucks him from behind. Lyle's back is bowed, and Neil can lean down to bite Lyle's ear without too much difficulty, delivering the next words there: "Does Halle fuck you when you can't even come?"
He's not even sure that he wants an answer; he gets one anyway: a breathy, broken-sounding no.
But even that's not enough to stop Neil right now. He fucks Lyle fast and hard and comes easily, shuddering above his brother and then all but collapsing next to him.
When he raises his head to look around, Halle's standing on the back porch, and Alle's face is in the window.
Motherfucker, he thinks, and sighs and closes his eyes. At least they're not interfering.
"You're not going to stop me," Lyle says, after a short while made of panting evening out and heartrates slowing and sweat drying on their skin.
Neil sighs again. "Whatever. What does it matter if you get killed, right? It's not like you have a brother that gives a fuck about you and doesn't want you to risk your stupid life on something like this."
Lyle shakes his head. "You don't understand." He pushes himself up, gathers his clothes, and goes into the house. The moment when he stops on the porch and very purposefully kisses Halle, slow and sensual, is heartbreaking for Neil.
You stupid, stupid man.
He'll find a way to prevent this, though. Come hell or high water.
◊
The natural progression in trying to stop it is to try to stop it at the source: Halle. The bastard decides to just take Lyle with him after Neil's worked so hard to keep his little brother safe.
But then he thinks, he thinks maybe... maybe Halle doesn't know how hard Neil's worked. Maybe he needs a fucking lesson in Dylandy politics, and to know that neither one of them are submissive and going to just let themselves be left out from or strung along with anything against their will.
Neil's fairly sure if he bothered saying anything like that, Halle would waste no time introducing his fists to Neil's face. Or his kidneys.
Right.
Plan C, then.
◊
"Hey, Alle," Neil says as he sits down next to Alle on the couch.
Alle's watching some program about baby pandas, sitting with his legs crossed and leaning forward, engrossed. It'd be kind of adorable if he weren't quietly psycho.
"Alle." Neil touches him gently.
With a start, Alle turns toward him. "Oh! Neil. How are you?" He smiles, but there's a forced, false quality to it.
"Worried about you taking Lyle with you, actually."
Alle's cheeks turn red and he looks away. "Yeah. He mentioned. Halle too. I'm not sure why--"
"You're the older one, right? Between you and Halle." Neil tries to make it sound like a casual observation, although it took a fair bit of digging to get that out of Lyle.
"Yes?"
Neil gives him a smile that he hopes looks at least partially innocent. "I just wondered if you knew what I feel, when it comes to protecting your--" he intends going to say little brother, but he'll eat his shoes if that's the way Alle thinks of his brother. "--Your Halle."
"Maybe?" He sounds a little confused.
Damn. Neil bites his lip. "Look, I've--I've worked really fucking hard to keep Lyle safe. If he goes off and does this with you two, it'll have been for nothing. He'll--things could happen, you know?"
Alle shakes his head. "Unlikely. We've been doing this for..." he trails off and looks away again. "A long time. So. We're not going to get caught, and we'll keep him safe."
Somehow Neil actually believes it, when he hears it from Alle's lips. He doesn't want to trust, but his choices are to trust or to just... be crazy-protective and angry and-- fuck, he doesn't want to do this for the rest of Lyle's life. "Okay."
◊
Unfortunately, it's just not as easy as deciding to let it happen. Neil fucks Lyle the night before he leaves, when Halle and Alle are out doing something or other. Lyle doesn't try to stop him, actually encouraging it.
Maybe Halle's lack of giving a fuck last time has made them bold, or it's just adrenaline and pent up emotions.
He wishes that he could leave a mark on Lyle. Wishes that he could just... just do something that would stake his own claim.
But that would be stupid. He's not a sociopath; he's not Halle.
They fuck again in the necessary shower after the sex. And one more time, on the floor of the bathroom. Neil holds Lyle close, on top of him, smiling at the taste of Lyle on his tongue and the way Lyle's gaze is hooded and gorgeous.
"Be safe," Neil says, with feeling.
Lyle kisses him. "I will."
It's a lie; Lyle's never safe. He's always dangerous. But Neil can't do anything other than pull Lyle's body tighter against his own and breathe in the scent of Lyle's hair and try to cement this feeling, this smell and touch and sight and taste and sound, into his mind. Just in case.
◊
There's no retribution for this round of fucking, either. Or Halle's just going to do it when he gets back. Either way, Neil is off scot-free for the moment.
And stuck worrying. Worrying so hard. Lyle said that they can't call, because calls can be tracked, so there's no contact at all for two weeks.
Lyle has a new injury when they come back, right above his left eyebrow, a short but deep cut that's stitched closed. It'll probably scar. But he comes bearing gifts from Greece for all of the housemates, and so full of vibrancy that Neil can't decide between relief and jealousy and-- other things.
"It'll be okay," Lyle tells him later, when the Haptisms are upstairs fucking. They're loud; they're always so loud. Lyle insists that it's just Alle, but Neil is fairly sure Halle contributes as well. "It was just this once. I had to see."
That doesn't make me feel any better, Neil thinks. "And, what? You think I'm made of stone or something and wouldn't give a fuck because you just had to see?"
Lyle's expression says that he doesn't care; it was about his relationship with the Haptisms, not about Neil or anything else.
"Am I going to get killed if I jump you now?" Neil doesn't think he will, but it never hurts to check and see. The words draw a laugh out of Lyle, though, so Neil's glad he said them. "Well? Am I?"
"No," Lyle says, with a devious grin. "I'm actually allowed to fuck you, as long as Halle doesn't see it again."
Neil wonders exactly how long that rule has been in effect, and anger washes over him again.
Lucky for him, Lyle senses the change and stands, stretching. "Looking forward to sleeping in my own bed." He yawns; Neil can't tell if it's fake or not. "Night, Neil."
"Night, Lyle."
Neil reminds himself again that he is not Halle. He's not some psycho. He's not going to chase after Lyle and fuck him on the stairs or something. Even if the idea alone is getting him hard; even if it's nothing more than what Lyle deserves. He clenches his teeth and balls his hands into fists until he can't hear the stairs creaking anymore.
He lets out the breath he didn't even realize he was holding until this moment, and flops backward against the couch. Fucking Lyle.
"Neil?" Lichty asks, from the direction of the kitchen.
"Fuck off," Neil snaps at him, and drags himself up off of the couch and to his room. If he can't fuck Lyle and he can't fuck Lichty, he can at least masturbate until he's sore. It won't matter, then, that he wants to do to Lyle all of the things Halle has done and more.
If it's all in his head, then he really can pretend to be made of stone.
The whole thing is a stupid idea, but he does it anyway.