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Waves crashing against the white sand was a distant sound, but with windows open, it still reached Neil’s ears. The doors to the balcony were wide open with only their loose white curtains covering the doorway. The cool sea breeze drifted in and brought Neil peace. He sighed pleasantly, taking a sip of his (fourth? Fifth?) cup of coffee that Sunday morning. He’d gone on his morning run on the beach, taking moments occasionally just to watch the sunrise. When he got back, Andrew was still asleep like always. He smiled at the thought of his boyfriend. He always did. When Neil used to think of the beach, he’d think of his mother and the angry waves crashing against rocks and the smell of smoke burning his nostrils. Now, he thought of Andrew. He thought of Saturday mornings, watching him conquer the waves on his surfboard while Neil sat on the sand, his bad leg stopping him from doing more than supporting. He thought of the afternoons they’d spend walking up and down the streets of San Clemente, finding new cafes and petting passing dogs. He thought of the way the sun’s rays had made Andrew’s beautiful blond hair even lighter than it already was. The waves only made Neil think about Andrew.
“Stop disassociating,” came a sleepy voice as Andrew entered the living room. He plopped down on the couch on the opposite side of Neil, his short legs barely reaching Neil’s folded ones. “What are you reading?”
Neil smiled, setting his coffee down on the table next to him and picking up the book that had been sitting, still open, on his lap. “It’s poetry. Sylvia Plath.”
“Hm,” Andrew hummed, observing Neil for a moment, “too depressing for my taste. Do you wanna go grab something to eat? I think that breakfast place on the next block over opened an hour or so ago.”
“Sure,” Neil shrugged, closing his book, grabbing his mostly-empty coffee cup and standing up.
“Wait, are you gonna finish that?” Andrew asked from the couch, pointing towards the coffee cup in his hands. Neil shook his head and handed it over.
Andrew downed the rest of the coffee and stood up as well. He didn’t bother to get dressed, just throwing on his faded orange sweatshirt.
“That’s mine,” Neil said, eyeing the white lettering on the back.
The blond sent him a look that said “Do I care?” and Neil backed off with a smile, opting to grab the sweatshirt with the word “Minyard” on the back. Neither of them really wore the colors of their former pro-teams. It wasn’t because they had retired, it was because they were foxes through and through. Always. They both threw on shoes and Neil jogged over to the balcony to shut the doors.
“I don’t get why you have those open all the time,” Andrew mused, waiting by the stairs. Neil just shrugged and they both went downstairs and left the house.
The house looked small from the outside, but since it was filled with windows and open area, it felt a million times bigger. It was the softest of blues, very close to white, and to them, it was home. Years ago, when Nicky went back to Germany and Aaron married Kaitlyn, they sold the house in Colombia. It was hard, Neil still remembers the way Andrew looked once the deal went through and someone else bought it. It had been like walking away from the person he loved. They didn’t need the house in Colombia anymore because they had their loves. Now, Neil was Andrew’s home. Their home was a little house in San Clemente years after Exy and years after Palmetto.
Neil laced his fingers with Andrew’s as they walked. They were past asking yes or no with most physical contact now, after almost ten years together. They were hardly the people they were when they attended Palmetto. Now, Andrew could wake up in Neil’s arms without flashing back to events he’d rather forget. Andrew could barely remember a time when he was medicated. He wasn’t numb anymore. Of course, Nicky, Aaron and the rest of the old Foxes still thought he was a sociopath, but even their images of him had softened in their own ways. Andrew was more human than he’d ever been. It hadn’t been Neil that humanized him, he’d always been human. It was Neil that taught him it was okay to show the real person he was.
It was around seven in the morning and the streets were nearly empty. The only noise being the waves and the sounds of shops just opening up. Neil smiled. After being somewhat forced to retire from Exy due to a stubborn injury to his left leg which had refused to heal in a way that would allow him to keep playing, California had been the first place he felt he didn’t need Exy. Maybe it was the place, maybe it was Andrew. Either way, he didn’t need Exy to be happy here and he never thought he could live like that.
Andrew noticed his expression and asked, “What are you smiling?”
“I don’t know. I just love this, I love you.” Neil’s fingers squeezed Andrew’s hand briefly.
“You’re weird.” The blond rolled his eyes as the pair entered the small shop they found themselves at almost every morning. This was mainly due to the fact that neither of them could cook anything spectacular, but they loved going there all the same.
They ordered and said nothing while they waited. Neil was humming softly to the tune of the instrumental playing in the shop, his hand having yet to leave Andrew’s so the other could feel his fingers tapping along to the song.
They sat at a round table by the window, finally letting go of each other with their hands still rested inches apart on the table. This was how many mornings were spent. They contributed to the silence of the morning streets and enjoyed each other’s company. Back when they were playing Exy, after years of being together, occasionally some asshole interviewer would ask how they were still so in love after so long. Neil would always smile with a small laugh and joke about Andrew’s underlying hatred for him. He never gave the real answer. They were still so in love because that was just who they were. Them and their traumatic pasts, their complicated start, their heartbreak all those years ago, everything. Their love for each other was a part of them and it wasn’t a part very willing to leave. Andrew rarely said “I love you,” but they knew. Neil knew in the lingering glances, in the soft touches, in the Sunday mornings. They were in love and always would be.
They spent the rest of that early morning once they got home listening to the waves and reading poetry. Andrew’s legs tangled with Neil’s and the cats settled somewhere in between, both in their own separate worlds and too busy to notice. This was home.