Okay, so I’ve had this stuck in my head lately and I figured I’d get it out here. Consider it my head canon on why Neil doesn’t like sweets. And OMFG, I did something that wasn’t ten pages! I did something short!!! Yay!
Uhm, so yeah, this deals with Neil’s/Nathaniel’s childhood, let’s just say the usual TFC warnings apply (Nathan, shall I say more?).
Nathaniel was never really allowed chocolates when he was little; his mother would sneer about ‘too-sweet American crap’ and his father… well, his father didn’t believe in ‘spoiling’ him, didn’t believe in any type of treats. The most Nathaniel’s mother would do was give him some hard candy from time to time, little tart balls in bright cellophane which he could suck on to keep quiet.
Quiet was good, and the tart flavors cleared his throat of the thick taste of copper and salt and mucus, of sniffing back his tears or licking away the blood that trickled down from his nose.