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Neil stumbled out of the lecture hall, blinking his tired eyes at the afternoon sun slanting across the campus. His hands and feet felt numb and there was a cottony feeling muffling everything. He could barely tie his shoes that morning or write notes during class. Mostly he had spent the day staring, eyes blank, white noise drowning out his teachers and classmates. It was a dangerous state to be in. He knew how his mother would punish him for getting this far-gone. But if he was with his mother she would have made sure he slept every night, the two of them sleeping in shifts and watching out for each other.
Practice was a waking nightmare. Some of the haze burned off, allowing Neil to focus on drills but it still took all of his concentration. And the delay wasn’t helping, that nearly imperceptible gap between when something happened and when his exhausted brain finished processing it. Neil sprinted down the field, ready to make a play and score. But his eyes misjudged the speed and the trajectory of the ball and WHAM! The ball slammed into his helmet, sending him crashing to the floor. He dimly heard Kevin yelling at him as he crawled to his feet. The ringing in his ears was worse and spots flashed across his eyes. Neil took a step forward and tripped, going back down.
“Stay down.”
Neil obeyed. It was a relief to be told to stop, to rely on the hands gripping the back of his neck and his shoulder as he crouched on the court.
Without warning Neil felt his stomach rebel against him—
“Andrew—” he could barely speak. “Gonna be sick.” Neil tried to tug off his glove, wanted to cover his mouth, but he didn’t make it. Andrew barely had time to pull off his helmet before Neil threw up. He had skipped lunch and barely had any breakfast so it wasn’t totally awful but still…
“Oh Christ, Josten!” Kevin’s voice pierced through the haze, angry and loud. “You have to be shitting me.”
“Fuck off,” Andrew growled. He helped Neil up, guiding him off the court. “We’re done for today,” he told Kevin and Wymack. Wymack sent them to Abby while Kevin complained loudly and told everyone else to get back to work.
Neil leaned heavily on Andrew, feeling more rattled by the impact than he should have. He hadn’t been sick like that since… well, since he had been tortured. It made him feel incredibly weak and dangerously vulnerable.
After an examination Abby announced that Neil mostly likely had a minor concussion due to his symptoms of nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in his ears, sensitivity to light, and delayed reactions. Neil didn’t tell her that almost all of those symptoms had been present before he took a ball to the helmet. Because telling Abby would be admitting to her, and Andrew, the true cause of his sickness. Abby prescribed bed rest and banned him from practice for the next few days. Kevin would be livid.
Andrew didn’t speak the entire ride back to Fox Tower. He helped Neil get to their dorm suite, helped him to the shower, and left. Neil slowly peeled off his clothes and got in the shower. He had turned off the overhead light but left the sink light on. With the curtain pulled the shower was dim enough that he didn’t have to squint. The warm water felt amazing. Neil sat down in the tub and leaned back against the wall, letting the water drum steadily against his aching skin. He was so tired.
Neil didn’t know how long he had sat in the shower staring dazedly at the water spiraling down the drain. By the time Andrew finally decided to retrieve him the water had gone cold and Neil’s skin was pruny. Andrew huffed in exasperation but got Neil on his feet and dried off, hauling him back to their room and putting him to bed.
The room was dim and quiet and Andrew was close, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands bunched in the cover while he watched Neil with empty, emotionless eyes.
“How long has it been since you slept?”
There was no hiding from the question or from Andrew’s intent gaze. Neil squirmed.
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
Neil shut his eyes for a moment, the grittiness so irritating that he felt tears prick at the corners.
“Neil. How long.”
“Days,” Neil mumbled. “I think I slept on Sunday.”
The mattress creaked as Andrew leaned forward, getting in Neil’s face.
“It’s Thursday, you idiot. What have you been doing at night when you’re not sleeping? Because I know you didn’t get out of bed.”
Neil tried to shrug but he couldn’t, the sheets tucked in too firmly, Andrew’s weight pinning him.
“I just can’t sleep.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Andrew gently pulled Neil’s lower eyelid down and frowned. “You look like you’re turning into one of those red eyed zombies. Is that what’s happening? You got bit? You’re just waiting until we’re all passed out to eat our brains.”
Neil snorted and leaned into Andrew’s palm. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Biding my time.”
“Sneaky.”
They stayed like that for several minutes, Andrew’s thumb brushing back and forth across Neil’s scars. It was so soothing that for a second Neil almost dropped off but the moment he started sliding into unconsciousness his eyes snapped open.
“What?” Andrew asked, moving his hand to cup Neil’s chin.
“I don’t know,” Neil admitted. “I feel anxious, like I did before Baltimore. I can’t shake it, even though I know he’s dead and Riko’s dead and we’re as safe as we’ll ever be.”
Andrew moved his hand down, trailing fingers along Neil’s throat, listening, considering.
“Yes or no?” Andrew’s gaze was careful, assessing. If he thought Neil wasn’t in a good place…
“Yes.” Neil tried to bite back on his eagerness. Yes, always yes.
Andrew started with a kiss, slow and calculated, his lips teasing Neil’s, pulling back and making him rise up, making him follow after Andrew. Neil kicked the covers off and moved over, making room for Andrew in his bed. His heavy exhaustion burned away with Andrew’s touch and a sigh escaped Neil’s lips as his back arched off the bed.
Afterwards Andrew came back to bed and let Neil press against him. Neil breathed in Andrew’s scent, listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart.
“How did you know?” Neil whispered.
“I can do math,” Andrew muttered. “You haven’t slept since Sunday. What happened on Sunday?”
Neil thought about it, remembered waking up sleepy and warm in Columbia. Remembered how Andrew had taken him apart, a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t wake the others. Despite everything Neil blushed.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. Junkie.”
“I also got that e-mail from Stuart.”
Andrew didn’t say anything. Neil had already told him what Stuart had relayed. It was nothing new but it was still an unwelcome reminder of how, even with Andrew and exy and the Foxes, Neil was still owned by so many people.
“I should have paid better attention,” Andrew said.
“No, I should have just… told you. Not made it a big secret. It just hit me at a bad time.”
The anniversary of his mother’s death. The words went unsaid but Andrew understood. He stroked the side of Neil’s face, pushed his fingers into the auburn curls, tugging a little. Neil relaxed, let himself be comforted.
“Get some sleep, Neil. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Neil closed his eyes and surrendered himself into Andrew’s keeping. Lost himself in the thrum of Andrew’s heart, the dragging weight of his fingers, the scent of his skin. He slept.