Chapter Text
This is it.
One final time he will try, for one more time he will try to do everything right, every single thing like the old Neil so he can catch Dimaccio and avoid death.
But then he's done with it. He just-
What's the use of the same repeated pattern if it's no use? What’s the use in trying if at the end of the day it's just the same?
Although, he will give it one more go…It was best to wait until the last bit, after his father was dead. It was his best chance without other disturbances or pairs of hands.
One on one.
Surprise the surpriser when he least expected it. Then at least he had some kind of leverage to hold on to. Just like home turf matches, and oh how he missed the too orangey court back at Fox Tower.
Bearcats court was nothing compared to that as he stepped his foot on it. All geared up, tired of the same rodeo he couldn't skip if he wanted to give his all.
If Neil ever gets out of this thing, he’s sure Exy will be a thing he will take a break from. A small break, he would bounce back to it surely after sometime, he wouldn’t get rid of Exy even if he tried to. It's still one of those things that made him feel less trapped, but it no longer made him feel free. He was running the same circles day by day, no wonder it would lose its spark at some point.
He isn't sure if he does or says something, looks at Andrew too desperately or weirdly because Andrew reacts to whatever was displayed in his face a few passes after their warm ups.
The racquet hangs on Neil’s hand loosely when Andrew gets closer, he seems a bit irritated.
“Don’t look at me like that.” The goalkeeper says sharp leaning on his own racquet sending Neil an annoyed look to Neil’s constant staring. Normally, Andrew's words wouldn't really affect him that much, he would reply back with ‘like what’ knowing full well what the other had meant.
But this time he doesn’t.
These words hurt, aching sometimes painful inside when they meet his skin. Instantly averting his eyes elsewhere. “Don’t say it–“ don’t say this is nothing because I can’t take it right now. “Just don't.” he says.
Would you sacrifice yourself for nothing? Would you kill yourself for nothing?
Andrew points an eyebrow at him ignoring his ongoing inner battle. “No, you look at me like I'm gonna disappear and it ticks me off so stop it.” You're acting stupid, we're literally on court where would I even go. Andrew rolls his eyes, turning to leave for his own spot.
Neil feels himself fume, well so sorry if my emotions are bothering you, should probably learn how to mask them better just for you! He turns around and steps his way the other way so he doesn’t blurt out anything unnecessary that are roaming his mind
He gets ready in his position, taking a tighter grip of his racquet than he needs to and waits for the whistle to blow.
And the game goes on…he really lets it happen, controlling his every move according what needs to be done. Even when he sees number 13 come his way — he doesn’t step away, does not avoid it — he waits for the elbow to hit his stomach, almost tripping and stepping wrong on his foot.
The pain in his abdomen is mild compared to—everything as he steadies himself, keeping his head in the game even if the passing shoulders hit him. Shooting the Exy ball first to Dan, Dan shoots it to Kevin and Kevin makes a goal.
The cheers travel around the court.
Run, Catch, Shoot. Get Andrew to help them. Run, Catch, Shoot.
It’s how it’s supposed to go.
And the last ball hits the goal of Kevin’s last minute shoot and the fans go crazy in the stands of their win. Like it hadn’t been set on an invisible stone. Foxes winning. Was always meant to happen, the win, the torture that followed.
It was all part of a plan.
Separating himself from the torture isn’t easy, but he has gotten so used to it so he manages and shuts his mind following his script until he’s at the safety of foxes again.
Thinking about a sunny day, blond hair, a wind mixing with smoke from the burning stick between his fingers and the scene of Andrew on the roof with him, just smoking together.
Keys that had been thrown and keys that he had gone to fend for, as the cigarette he had picked up with a smirk. A salute of better luck next time and he was in the chase. A chase with his own heart he couldn't see back then, blaming the fastened heartbeat on running down the stairs or the small flutter coming from his stomach entirely on annoying Andrew with the gesture.
That time he didn't know why he had picked the half smoked bud or why he had tipped his head to meet Andrew's unwavering gaze tapping two fingers to his temple in Andrew's mocking salute.
But he had done it.
And it made him smile of the nothingless memory. Of a meaningless day among others that had set his heart on an adventure of emotions he didn't know existed the next past months.
Not until now.
Those were the small things he allowed himself to think as the knife worked on his skin.
Each act of trust overwrote the cut he could feel piercing his flesh.
Each kiss muted the memories of pain in his cheek.
Every ugly thing that got past Lola’s or his father’s mouth - he only thought all the things Andrew had said to him. Truths they had exchanged, smart replies Neil got back most of the time, random acts of kindness, conversations before and now.
‘Such an unexpected will to survive from someone who has nothing to live for’
Andrew had been wrong then. He had something to live for. Even if Neil himself didn't know it then.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I am not your answer and you sure as fuck aren’t mine’
People weren't answers, Neil wasn't looking for an answer, a person couldn’t be an answer to all his problems. They were puzzles like Andrew liked to think, some were missing pieces and the missing piece might just be in someone else’s hold. Fitting right into another's life like they belonged there with them.
What he could look for was that maybe Andrew would be beside him not as an answer but as a solution that kept him sane.
A right fit to each other's puzzled lives.
***
When Nathan’s body dropped, Neil’s ears chime of the gunshot as he yells at Stuart to kill the other one.
“Kill him! Kill Dimaccio!“ Neil tries to scan where the man had gone so he could do it himself.
“Nathaniel there’s nobody else here.” Stuart says when he reaches away from Nathan’s body that lay on the ground. Dimaccio nowhere in sight—But he was right there..
“What? What do you—“ Dimaccio wasn’t in the room with them, only the gunmen, Stuart, Neil and the bleeding corpse’s of Nathan and Lola’s present...but no Dimaccio.
Had the bastard escaped?
Fled when his father was yelling for backup. Neil was sure he had just been here a minute ago shielding his father. Did he really leave to get back up and that's how he left without being noticed.
And that’s how he… he must have tracked him down and waited for a perfect opportunity to finish him off after he had known Nathan died and blamed Neil for it, he was the easiest target to get first. Daring to give him a way out and take it right away.
Revenge was a deadly poison and Dimaccio was too loyal for Nathan to let a traitor like him off even if it cost him his own life.
Kill or be killed.
“You need to find him! He is dangerous!” He tries to get Stuart to listen but Stuart has his own things to tell him and he’s in a hurry. And before he knows it, they're gone. Neil is alone in the basement waiting for the feds to show up so he doesn't have to stare at the blood smeared floor.
There’s always the option to inform the feds…though there's no way he's staying with them more than he needs to, he knows how that will end up.
He does tell them that a person named Dimaccio is somewhere out there when he exchanges some truth to the two agents that await him as he wakes at the hospital once again after passing out.
But he leaves out the fact that said person is going to come for him, because if he does tell the truth they're not going to let him go. And its suicide staying with the cops, he had just as better chances trying to battle with his killer than a poison or stab on the back.
And as usual they get done with negotiations, he’s let to meet with foxes, same old conversations and promises, and the twenty minutes turns into hours with the FBI and more hours in the bus.
Talking after talking until he’s alone with his own thoughts. Inside the warmness of the dorm, after the night has draw in and its pitch black outside.
Endless amount of staring the at the top bunk the past thirty minutes waiting for everyone to fall asleep so he can sneak out before its time, he chooses not to wait here like a prey and be the hunter himself.
Once he’s sure everyone has gone to sleep, he gets up and leaves the dorm room as Kevin’s snores fill the air, even Andrew's deep breaths indicate he’s dead asleep. So Neil leaves discreetly, as quiet as a ghost, tiptoeing the dorm and closing doors as if he never left.
The art of being a shadow.
There's only a few entrances to the building as he stands in the hall monitoring his surroundings in the dark.
A door at the end of the hall must be where he guesses Dimaccio sneaks in, because that is what Neil would do. It's easy to pick up and it's surrounded in the shadows so no one would notice there was an intruder lurking in.
So he seeps in that direction, spotting a perfectly nice corner to hide and wait. He got a few knives with himself, he's so confident he will get him this time, so sure it will go right.
Then he pauses…not getting far away from the dorm door he just stepped out. Quickly hiding his knives to the sound. A door opens. It comes behind Neil rather than up front where he would have expected it to.
“Where are you going?” Asks a sleepy voice.
And Neil almost jumps out of his skin. “Andrew… Jesus!” Neil breathes out, not expecting him to be there. Behind his step. “What are you doing here?”
“Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?”
“Just wanted to catch some air, go inside.” He tells Andrew. “I'll be fine.”
“You've never been fine.”
“Pl- just go inside alright.” he acts as discreet as he possibly can. He needs Andrew inside to safety. “I wanna be alone, I will be right up, I just need a minute.”
He does his best to convince him, while convincing himself that this is the last lie he hopefully has to tell. Andrew gives up fairly quick, not without giving him the eye of suspicion but nonetheless closes the dorm door with him, not in the mood to argue it seems.
As the door closes Neil lets himself take a breather.
Fuck that was close. If Andrew would have stayed, had been more stubborn—Neil doesn’t want to even think about how it could have gone.
He needs to get this done.
And he doesn't have much time either.
**
When he hears someone open another door. He has had his sweet time mentally preparing himself on the corner. This time he knows who it is, a dark figure that resembles the right person so he flees to attack without waiting even a second longer.
This was his last attempt at this and he was going to go all in. If this fails, he has to figure out something else to try.
The knife he has in his grip goes into flesh and he thinks this is it from the growl of pain he hears. Taking a step back for another stab, but then the knife doesn't let him. He tries to yank it out of the shoulder he had aimed but the knife doesn’t budge.
Its stuck under his fingers.
Then the knife moves in his grip in the darkness and there's no way it's on the shoulder. Dimaccio must have shielded the knife with his hand or something that it went right through it.
And Neil’s guess is right. The hand changes its course, moving in his direction. Stabbing itself nearly onto Neil’s own shoulder for revenge, he lets out a silent scream when the knife leaves a sharp cut on the flesh on his arm and hears the scrunch when Dimaccio takes the time to get the knife from his pierced palm, cursing at him as there must be a hole on the hand, bleeding its way to his arm.
The blood drips, making a melody in the hall with each drop.
A fist smacks at his side – the sudden impact of it breaks his footing apart.
“This is for Nathan.” Comes the same eerie sentence before a knife flashes his face. He knows to duck away from it in time moving between the wall and the other person as he takes the other knife he has and with all his might stabs the blackened back with it.
Twisting it, for a good measure. A hiss leaves of the person he stabbed it into, but then the back comes dangerously close to him, crushing him between the wall and the larger man.
Taking the wind out of him.
“You think a scratch like that is gonna kill me?” the man spits when he turns to him, there's a sharp punch at Neil’s throat. Which send him gagging of his windpipe not travelling air, he's making the same ragged sound as Lola had made when he punched her similarly.
Dimaccio though, had way more manpower in his singular punch than Neil ever could. He tried to swallow the missing breaths as he still had a knife between his fingers, but something tight wrapped around his throat - calloused hands squeezing tight.
He almost drooped the knife from his own hand of the shaking on his body but got a grip of it just before it could drop. Beginning to see the red spots in his vision while he tried to aim the remaining knife in his hand to Dimaccio’s face, only making a scratch on the surface of his cheek.
“You should have gone for the throat.” The man beyond him whispers of his poor attempt. Toying with him. Like a predator did with its pray before they went for the kill.
Neil can’t die… he has to…do something.
But his hands feel like bleeding, his lungs are at their last breaths.
He’s trapped. Dimaccio got him.
Should he just give up?
He can feel the blood rushing in his face and soon he will be passing out. Soon he will lose the grip of reality.
Should he just—
Then he hears a creak of a door not so far away and Neil knows in his gut that he has to act fast or else something bad is going to happen again as he feels a presence that he needs to save from another looming death.
He can’t be dealt with the same end. The same losing hand again. Doesn't want anymore blood on his hands than he already carries.
If he’s the one that survives again of the two, it's either both or nothing, it's either Andrew or nothing.
He hits the knife with his last strengths into the man’s diagram at the stomach hard enough to shift the tight grip so that Neil can make an escape of the choking hands that try to get him back between huffs.
Neil grips the blood dripping knife in his hand trying to get air into his lungs and regain the vision that swims around him making everything too black and red. In his corner of eye Dimaccio is getting ready to throw the godforsaken knife that can end one's life with only one throw and reflexively Neil leaps for it.
Never taking his eyes off the man who throws the knife as Neil throws his own at the same time.
The lights turn on that exact second and he sees how his knife pierces the man's head, between his eyes - bullseye - dropping dead surprisingly fast like a sack of dead meat.
He almost feels joy.
Almost.
The thing was, as he had run, as he had positioned himself in front of the radar of Dimaccio’s fury in the quick time. He wasn't fast enough, he wasn't able to avoid it. But it didn’t matter.
For once he had been able to be in time for Andrew.
There was a knife sticking out of his own chest and for once the piercing pain inside his ribcage was from physical pain and not guilt.
The tears of hot throbbing pain surfaced as he coughed, staggering back and forth.
Fuck.
“Neil!” Andrew stares at him wide eyed.
Fuck. His legs started to double over and the room was spinning. Falling head first—before the floor meets his face there’s strong arms on his sides guiding him down. At least it was him and not Andrew this time, like it meant the whole world that at least it wasn't him in his state.
“Who was- What- are you-“
“it's fine,” Neil reassures him, even though there's a metallic taste between his lips. Or that his whole upper torso feels like it's burning, like he’s inside the bus full of smoke again.
It could have been a lot worse.
They stare at each other. Faces pale and humorless. Andrew who looks horrified is yelling for Kevin so loudly it must wake the whole dormitory as it rings between Neil’s ears painfully.
That's a rare sight…so much emotion on the apathetic face the man usually carried. Fear and Panic.
A weight pressed his chest, and he grimaced, a hot nausea traveled his entire system all the way to his stomach and the back of his throat. The shouting did quiet down as the coldness bled out even of Andrew's best efforts to stop it.
“You fucking idiot, you just had to-” Andrew curses at him. “Don’t you fucking die on me, you hear me, or i will drag your sorry ass back from hell and kill you myself!”
Andrew keeps cursing him to the last bits of hell when Kevin had appeared with Aaron in the hallway, shock displayed on their faces of the bleeding body of Neil’s. Andrew doesn't yet focus on them as he has his eyes on him waiting for a reply back.
“Neil! Are you listening?!” Andrew’s voice goes high pitched for a second there.
“mhmm.” Neil replies “i'm listening, but-”
“No buts, you stay right fucking here!”
The pressure in his chest hardens as Andrew demands Kevin to call for help and for his brother to do something.
“wh-where else would I- I go?” he gets it out stuttering with the heavy breaths rocking his chest.
Foxes come one by one from the other room looking like they saw a ghost—Neil starts to feel like one—he's just living in borrowed time.
Aaron is yelling at someone and pressing the bleeding wound… or maybe it's Andrew. They begin to mix in—two Andrew's frames his vision or it's just one plus his duplicate…it's difficult to tell anymore what is and what isn't.
He recognizes them by voice when his eyes betray him.
“Shut the-” Andrew's breath gets stuck in his throat. “Shut up, you fucking smart mouth..” Neil knows Andrew means for him to keep talking, don't you dare stop talking. But eventually opening his mouth gets too tiresome, like he has nothing left to say other than one more thing he can muster the strength to muter.
Andrew or the look-alike looks so lost, Kevin is white as a sheet and Nicky is crying somewhere, he doesn't need to see the man, he can recognize that cry everywhere of how often he had heard the mans weep.
Matt was saying something in the background, he could hear other voices too but he only focused on Andrew's voice a little longer. A warmness holds his bandaged palm tightly and he grips it even if it hurts, even if the burns and slashes there sting.
He holds it until his strength loosens the grip.
“Neil? Neil! Goddammit answer me or I will-” Another threat to kill him perhaps?
“See you soon.” Neil mutters past his lips before he loses himself to the pain and the blackened coldness wraps around him like a cocoon of damnation.
Feels the death come for him.
A welcoming sensation of nothing until it suddenly disappears leaving him empty.
***
Something keeps beeping at his ear beep — beep — beep. It's annoyingly regular.
Another beep and a next.
He can feel himself float until the consciousness comes back - one more beep - and he opens his heavy eyelids.
Waiting for Wymack’s loud voice, but it doesn’t appear. The beeping doesn't stop, but he has no time to focus on that as he’s expecting to see the bus seats in front of him…
Instead of gray he sees white. It's so blinding he can't see anything more than the brightness of it the few seconds before his eyes adjust.
The systematic beep stays as background sound when his nose detects the smell of chemicals.
Trying to gain back his other senses—to his eyes and what he sees. A white…sealing? That's about all he is able to see from this angle.
Is he laying down? Focusing on feeling. There's softness under him he can separate from all the sensations going around his buzzing body and he feels – buzzed like when he woke up after Baltimore but worse.
Where is he?
Hospital? Why?
Trying to raise his neck to take a peek but his head feels really heavy and hazy, like the rest of him. It's disorienting and the heartbeat on his skin fastens beating with the beeps.
There's something on his hand, around his wrapped fingers. It's warm. He tries to grab it tighter, seeking to seize the warmness.
It feels like a hand.
A hand he knows too well. A hand he would want to hold for eternity. A hand he had only held on a few occasions, but had already memorized it in his mind.
“Andrew?” Neil says through the unexpected dryness at his throat and turns his head to the blond man leaning at his bedside in a half state of dozing off and remaining awake.
He looks tired, Neil notes instantly as Andrew's eyes jolt wide when he notices that Neil's awake, the fingers around his tighten slightly. What is happening? Where is he? There's no way–?
“What day is it!?” Neil asks hurriedly, “What’s going on?”
The blond man stares at him with surprise that shifts to hardness around the scrunched nose. Bottom lip clenched between teeth of a heavy jaw.
“You were being a fucking martyr again.”
Andrew doesn’t say it like his usual annoyed voice when it comes to Neil being a stupid martyr, his voice is raw as he brushes the eye bags under his eyes that are tinted with a slight redness around the corners.
“Do you ever learn?” Andrew seems frustrated the way he keeps staring at him. “Or is your learning curve really a horizontal line?”
“Andrew, what is today's date, what day is it?” Neil asks again because this is important, he needs to know. Because what is happening? Where is he and how is he here?
Those are his main worries before anything else.
Neil observes the room when Andrew offers nothing other than a tight lipped stare. There's the bed he's in, a machine that keeps beeping beside him and a chair Andrew's sitting on, there's a clock on the wall that tells him the time.
Big pointer at four and the smaller one at one. It's day time, the sun is out lighting the room with it’s rays. He keeps blinking at it as if it will tell him the day. There’s a murmur of words he doesn't quite catch that picks his attention turning back at Andrew.
“What?” Neil asks, needing to hear it again.
“Monday, Today’s Monday Neil.” Monday?!
He can feel his heartbeat everywhere. Monday? Not Friday, not Saturday or even Sunday?
He escaped the loop?
It's Monday ? He survived?
“And– and Dimaccio?” The questions run out of his tongue and his heart picks up even more. Heart monitor showing big numbers on the screen.
Andrew's eyes grew darker. “Dead.”
Dead? Dimaccio was Dead. Is dead.
And what he– all he needed to do was martyr himself some more? And he was able to kill his killer and somehow survive himself and on top of that save Andrew while he's at it??? That’s just fucking- nuts, stupid and extremely outrageous to even began to think about.
After all he tried, after all…this is what worked…a mere accident. A lucky shot of death and he got to live? How is that even real, how is this real? This is– this is…
The hysterical laugh travels its way out before he can stop it, because this is batshit crazy. The laugh doesn't last long, being cut short as he doubles over into himself “ouchh” he wheezes from the pain at his ribs.
Andrew’s face is a stone wall of conflict, the same way he reacted to those times Neil acted delirious on the bus with maniac laughs and whispers of time loops. Like he didn't know what to do or even how to react to the sudden outburst that was on display.
“Sorry, I'm just happy to see you.'' Neil says still not comprehending this too well, but it gets some of the tension on Andrew’s shoulders to ease the least.
It doesn't stop Neil from wondering. How had he not died? He'd been hit, he’d been bleeding a lot, he had felt the similar feeling of death.
He had felt it. Right here, he patted himself down carefully — there was a bandage all over his upper torso that wasn't there before.
He was wearing another hospital gown and his ribs ached even through whatever was bussing through his veins from the drip that was attached to his left hand.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” Andrew says through gritted teeth. ‘Don't go sacrificing your life for me. I'm not worth it.’ reads on those fury eyes that shoot at him so burningly.
But Andrew was worth every single death if it meant he remained unharmed. He knows he can't say that, so he resolves to something slightly different and not so alarming.
“I can’t promise that,” he says not wanting to lie. “but I will try my very best not to.'' Neil smiles between the tears that had sneakily appeared. Surprising them both. He goes to brush them away with his hospital gown.
“gosh I-“ Why was he tearing up, he wasn't even that hurt and no one was harmed or dead, why did he feel so—
He didn’t even know what the feeling was, other that it being overwhelming as fuck. Sucking all the emotions of relief and transforming them into his tear ducts, as they fell on his cheek.
“I told you to stay…'' Andrew looked at the floor, face so tight around the jaw and brows. It seemed to be hitting him hard too for whatever reason.
Neil squeezed the hand on his palm meekly. He didn't have much strength left it seemed. And he could feel how exhausted talking made him, but he kept going, he wasn't done yet, he didn't want this to be over yet.
And he needed to reply.
“I'm here I— I will stay forever if you let me.” he told truthfully “I want to stay right here.”
He can't help another set of tears because what if this doesn’t stay, he gets another glimpse of a future to just send him five steps back.
Andrew finally looks up, meeting his eyes. “Forever doesn't exist.” The blond says simply.
And maybe that was true. “Maybe…'' Neil replied with a small wet huff. But you’re my forever as long as it lasts. “I want to stay as long as I can then.” He says.
”Then stay.”
A small silence lays around them as they stare at each other. Neil nods his head and Andrew stays looking at him. They keep at it just a few more minutes before Andrew needs to go to alert any doctor that their troublemaker is awake and alive.
And a small smile finds his own mouth, Neil has to bite the snicker in otherwise it would rattle his ribs.
“What?” Andrew asks looking at him while playing with the pieces of strings of Neil’s bandage that had gone undone of his pinky finger, still not yet getting up.
“I’ve never been this happy of a Monday before.” Neil tells him honestly. Because it was true.
“Idiot.” Andrew says under his breath. “Monday is the shitiest day of the week.”
Neil shook his head. “Not to me, it’s another day I get to spend with you.” he whispers it out.
Andrew loosens the grip. Looking at him with false sternness. “Be careful before I finish the job the bastard failed to do if you keep up with the sappy shit, I hate you remember?”
Andrew's voice wavered slightly on the hate you part, masking it in with a scoffing sound to disguise it.
But Neil knew, he could feel it too.
That's why he had teared up, not because of pain or misery, broken bones or the tortures. But out of pure happiness, of hope. They were the tears of relief.
“I– you too. I hate you too.” He said, fully meaning the hidden message.
I hate how you look at me, how you touch me. I hate how you make me feel like with you everything is going to be okay.
It was a half lie he was fine to tell, because he meant the message it delivered even if the word hate meant something else to them. ‘Hate’ was such a vulnerable feeling – their version of it – it was theirs and it could mean whatever they wanted it to mean.
”110% Josten.” Andrew tried to send him a dirty look using his words against him but failed and Neil couldn't help but chuckle.
He was back home.
And he was here to stay.