SHATTERED REFLECTIONS

Shattered Reflections (Part 2)  

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)  

Summary: The two Andrews clash—Original Andrew despises Andrew for failing Aaron, while Andrew resents Original Andrew for having Aaron and not appreciating him. Meanwhile, Aaron is forced to confront the truth: that Andrew does care, even if he never shows it.  

AU!Andrew will be referred to as: Andrew

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Original Andrew’s POV  

Andrew didn’t like this other version of himself.  

No, like was too weak a word.  

He loathed him.  

Every time he looked at Andrew—at the hollowed-out cheeks, the way his fingers twitched like he was still reaching for a ghost—all he could think was: You let him die.  

And that was unforgivable.  

Because Andrew had spent his entire life making sure Aaron didn’t die. He had taken the beatings, the deals with monsters—all so that Aaron could live. And this failure of a reflection had fucked it up in the worst way possible.  

So when Andrew turned to him with that shattered, furious look in his eyes, Andrew was ready.  

"You don’t deserve him," Andrew spat.  

Andrew’s fingers curled into fists. "And you killed him."  

Andrew flinched—just slightly, just enough for Andrew to see it—before his expression twisted into something ugly. "At least I tried to save him. You just—what? Pretend he doesn’t exist? Pretend you don’t care?"  

Andrew’s blood ran cold.  

Because the worst part was—Andrew wasn’t entirely wrong.  

Andrew didn’t show it. He never had. Caring was a weakness, and weakness got people killed.  

But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.  

And now this broken version of himself was throwing it in his face like an accusation.  

Neil, ever the unwanted mediator, stepped between them. "This isn’t helping."  

"Shut up, Neil," both Andrews snapped in unison.  

Neil raised his hands in surrender but didn’t back down. "You’re both acting like this is a fight you can win. It’s not."  

Andrew didn’t care. He wanted Andrew to hurt. He wanted him to bleed.  

Because if he didn’t, then he’d have to admit that the only difference between them was luck.  

---  

Aaron’s POV  

Aaron had always thought Andrew didn’t care about him.  

Oh, sure, Andrew protected him—but that was just instinct, wasn’t it? Some fucked-up sense of obligation. Andrew never said anything. Never acted like he gave a shit.  

But now, watching Andrew—watching the way his hands shook, the way his voice cracked when he said Aaron’s name—Aaron realized something.  

He cares.  

And if this Andrew cared, then…  

His own Andrew did too.  

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.  

Because if Andrew cared, then all those years of silence, of distance, of biting remarks—they weren’t indifference. They were just… Andrew.  

And now Andrew was staring at him like he was a miracle, like he couldn’t believe he was real, and—  

Aaron couldn’t take it anymore.  

He stepped forward, ignoring the way both Andrews tensed.  

"Stop," he said, voice rough. "Just—stop."  

Andrew’s gaze snapped to him, desperate.  

Aaron exhaled. "I’m sorry," he said. "My death—it wasn’t your fault. I was the one who got hooked. It was unfair to you to try and get me sober at sixteen. You were just a kid too."  

Andrew’s breath hitched.  

For a long moment, no one spoke.  

Then—  

"You don’t get to forgive me," Andrew whispered.  

Aaron shrugged. "Too bad. I just did."  

---  

Andrew’s POV  

Andrew didn’t know how to process this.  

Aaron—his Aaron—was dead. Gone. Rotting in the ground because Andrew had been too stubborn, too reckless, too stupid to see the danger.  

And now here was this other Aaron, alive and breathing, telling him it wasn’t his fault.  

It was a lie.  

It had to be.  

Because if it wasn’t his fault, then that meant—what? That Aaron’s death was just some cruel twist of fate? That Andrew hadn’t failed him?  

No.  

Andrew had failed.  

And this Aaron—this living, breathing ghost—was looking at him with something dangerously close to pity.  

He couldn’t stand it.  

"You don’t know anything," Andrew snarled.  

Andrew—the one who still had his brother, the one who didn’t deserve him—stepped forward, eyes dark. "And you don’t belong here."  

Andrew laughed, sharp and brittle. "Trust me. I don’t want to be here."  

Neil, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "Then what do you want?"  

Andrew looked at Aaron.  

Then at the floor.  

"Nothing," he lied.  

Because what he wanted was impossible.  

He wanted his brother back.  

---  

To Be Continued...  

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Part 1 Part 2 (you are here)

I’m not afraid of you now

Shattered Reflections

Summary: In a universe where Aaron died during withdrawal after Andrew locked him in the bathroom to force sobriety, Andrew is left broken. When he stumbles into the original universe and sees Aaron alive, his reaction is immediate—and devastating.  

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AU!Andrew will be referred to as: Andrew

Hope you enjoy!

Original Andrew’s POV  

Andrew had never been one to believe in cosmic fuckery. The universe was indifferent, uncaring—just like him. But standing in the middle of the Fox Tower common room, staring at a version of himself that was wrong, he was forced to reconsider.  

The other Andrew—his reflection, but not—was gaunt. His eyes were hollow, his knuckles scarred in ways Andrew’s weren’t. His stance was rigid, but not in the way of someone who was always ready for a fight. No, this was the posture of a man who had already lost.  

And then the other Andrew saw Aaron.  

The reaction was instantaneous.  

Andrew moved like a lightning strike—fast, violent, inevitable. He crossed the room in two strides, hands snapping out to seize Aaron by the front of his shirt. Aaron barely had time to register before he was yanked forward, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud.  

“What the fuck—” Aaron snarled, but Andrew wasn’t listening. His fingers trembled where they gripped Aaron’s shirt, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.  

“You’re dead,” Andrew said, voice raw. “You died in that bathroom. I left you there.”  

Andrew—original Andrew—was already moving. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but he wasn’t about to let some shattered version of himself manhandle his brother. He grabbed Andrew’s wrist and twisted, forcing him to release Aaron.  

“Touch him again,” Andrew said, voice low, “and I’ll break your fingers.”  

Andrew didn’t even look at him. His eyes were locked on Aaron, wide and disbelieving.  

“You’re not real,” Andrew muttered. “You can’t be.”  

Neil, who had been standing frozen near the couch, finally found his voice. “Andrew,” he said carefully, “what’s going on?”  

Andrew didn’t answer. He was too busy watching the way Andrew’s hands shook, the way his breathing hitched like he was on the verge of hyperventilating.  

This wasn’t just confusion.  

This was grief.  

---  

AU!Andrew’s POV  

Andrew had stopped counting the days since Aaron died.  

It didn’t matter. Time didn’t mean anything when the only person who had ever been his was gone.  

He had locked Aaron in that bathroom to save him. To force him sober. To make him better.  

Instead, he had killed him.  

The withdrawal had been too much. Aaron had been too weak. And when Andrew had finally opened the door—  

(No. Don’t think about it. Don’t.)  

He had spent years drowning in the aftermath. No Foxhole Court. No Neil. No Kevin or Nicky or anyone else. Just him and the ghost of a brother he had failed.  

And now—  

Now Aaron was here. Alive. Breathing. Staring at him with the same pissed-off expression he always wore when Andrew did something he didn’t like.  

It wasn’t possible.  

But Andrew didn’t care.  

He reached for Aaron again, needing to feel him, to prove he was real—but the other Andrew (because of course there was another him, because the universe was a cruel fucking joke) stopped him.  

“Let go,” Andrew snarled, shoving against him.  

“No,” original Andrew said flatly.  

Aaron, meanwhile, looked between them like they’d both lost their minds. “What the hell is happening? Who the fuck is this?”  

“Me,” Andrew said, voice cracking. “But worse.”  

Neil, ever the observant little shit, took a cautious step forward. “Andrew,” he said, and Andrew didn’t know if he was talking to him or the other one. “You—you lost Aaron?”  

The words were a knife to the ribs.  

Andrew didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.  

The silence said everything.  

---  

Original Andrew’s POV  

Andrew wasn’t an idiot.  

He could put the pieces together.  

This other version of him—this broken, hollowed-out thing—had lost Aaron. Not to drugs, not to Drake, not to any of the usual threats.  

To himself.  

To his own desperate, fucked-up attempt to fix him.  

Andrew had always known, in some distant, unacknowledged part of his mind, that locking Aaron in that bathroom could have gone differently. That withdrawal was dangerous. That he had gambled with Aaron’s life and won—but it could have just as easily gone the other way.  

Looking at Andrew was like staring into a funhouse mirror of his own failures.  

Aaron, meanwhile, was still bristling. “So what, in your world, I died? Because of him?” He jerked his chin at Andrew.  

Andrew flinched.  

Original Andrew didn’t like that.  

“Shut up,” he told Aaron.  

“Fuck you,” Aaron shot back.  

Andrew let out a sound that was almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s him.”  

Neil, ever the peacemaker (or at least the one who understood Andrew best), stepped between them. “We should—talk. Figure this out.”  

Andrew’s gaze flicked back to Aaron. “There’s nothing to figure out. He’s dead in my world. He’s alive here. That’s it.”  

“That’s not it,” Neil argued.  

Andrew agreed, though he’d never say it out loud.  

Because if there was one thing he understood, it was this:  

Andrew wasn’t just seeing Aaron alive again.  

He was seeing everything he could have had—and everything he’d destroyed.  

---  

To Be Continued... 

Part 1

@lakeshorediving @demon-of-arts @epicmarrowbonesoup @sunflover0in0abbys

Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist!! <33

I think the three worst kinds of pain are

headaches

period cramps

and sore throats

Here’s the dark Andreil snippet absolutely no one asked for. I gift it to @epicmarrowbonesoup and @corner-collects-rocks 🫵🏻

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The forest had no name on any map Neil had stolen. The kind of place old women whispered of in kitchen corners and dogs refused to cross. It grew like a bruise on the edge of town, swallowing sky and silence alike.

The trees did not whisper. They watched.

Neil's pulse raced as he pushed deeper, away from the bloodied sun sinking behind the horizon, away from the dogs howling his name on the wind. Prince, they called him. Heir. He spat on the title and ran.

Wheres the greif?

the greatest unrequited love of yellowjackets is not jackieshauna but actually other tai and van. other tai would do anything for van, but van will always be disgusted and frightened of her. will always prefer tai, even when tai abandoned her for 25 years, even though it was other tai who asked for van, who was still thinking of her, all those years later

i entered the aftg fanfic scene expecting a battlefield of angst and trauma…. why are these the funniest fan fictions ive ever read???

I miss dead boy detectives

screaming crying throwing up for a yellowjackets aftg au

I would love to make a poll ranking Neil's most unhinged and crazy moments, but I need help completing the list. So far, I got:

At the begining of tfc when Nicky mentions that he used to live in germany some vague time ago and Neil starts wondering if Nicky might recognize him.

Nicky never mentioned WHERE or WHEN he was in Germany. Just Germany. Germany, you know THE WHOLE ASS COUNTRY GERMANY. With a vague "some time ago" time frame. And Neil was scared hed get RECOGNIZED

Autoheart so silly for putting fanart of Neil Josten as the picture of THE Neil Josten song