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Of all its horrors, one of the most memorable aspects of the Nest was the Dark.
The walls, the halls, the courts. Even the air itself had been dark; stifling, even. Heavy enough to drown in.
When Kevin moved into Palmetto, he was surprised by how light everything was.
He had two windows in his new bedroom dorm. The Nest hadn’t had windows.
His walls were white. That crinkly, eggshell spun, white. The Nest was never white.
And the chatter, that constant stream of happy noise—whether it be Nicky’s tinkling laugh or Allison’s pleasant exclamations—filtering in through every room…
It was all. so. bright.
Kevin feared it at first.
To say he wasn’t used to the new environment would be the understatement of the century. Where he was once accustomed to waking in pain and smothering shadows, he was now met with tendrils of sunlight and steady hands. This new life of light and hope was pleasant; it was relieving; it was right.
But it was oh so scary.
Because before, he had nothing to lose, save for his life. Sure, that was terrifying, but it took coming to Palmetto to realize that there were worse things than one’s own death. Now, at PSU, it was more than his own skin on the line: there was Andrew and safety and Neil and purpose and Wymack and possibility—
Kevin could lose some things, but the absence—no, the destruction—of his new miracles would be the tipping point of the End.
Even his own jersey was brighter than the Nest. Neon orange and bleached white; it almost strained his eyes the first time Wymack handed over the material.
But compared to the blood red and stunted black, Kevin embraced this new pain.
No one was stupid or cruel enough to say anything, but Kevin knew the other foxes noticed his reactions to the smallest things: sun rays on carpet, honey and wool; music streaming during breakfast, oatmeal and piano chords; post-practice swims, water droplets on gleaming skin.
Andrew and Neil especially never acknowledged Kevin’s quiet revelations, at least not vocally. But they saw, and they knew.
And maybe silently, they too, participated.
It first came in the form of work outs. Of course, Neil’s initial idea included straining limbs and rush after rush of adrenaline. Junkie, Andrew whispered fondly, before Neil slid out of bed and hauled Kevin out along with him.
“It’s six fucking thirty,” Kevin groaned. He refused to open his eyes to the glaring sunrise filtering in through the window. Too bright, too early. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“No, you’re not,” Neil said with a grin. Despite Kevin’s reluctant words, he made no move to pull away from Neil’s hand and let himself be dragged into the bathroom to change. Twenty minutes later, the pair were jogging their way through the corners and hills of their university. Kevin grumbled and complained for the first half, but the constant glimpses of Neil’s knowing smirk combined with the warm morning sun wakened him faster than three shots of espresso.
He thought the sun was hot, but Neil’s smile when they finished their last lap near lit Kevin up from the inside out.
“Better, Kev?” Neil said as they walked up the stairs. He still technically roomed with Matt, but that didn’t stop him from basically living with Kevin and Andrew at this point.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevin muttered so he wouldn’t give his gratitude away with a smile. As always when Neil returned on his runs, Andrew was waiting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. But this time, there was a second cup next to it for Kevin.
It was only half an hour later, while Kevin stood under the shower spray, watching rays of sunlight dance across the ceramic tiles, that he realized his cup was still on the counter, untouched.
Andrew took a more simple, if not roundabout, course. One afternoon while Neil was trapped in his Complex Analysis class, Andrew texted Kevin to meet him at the student center’s cafe. They shared a sub while Andrew worked on an essay on his laptop and Kevin read from his textbook. For awhile they didn’t speak, but not every occasion mandated words. Company was more than enough.
And that’s when it hit Kevin. For the first time in his life since his mother was alive, Kevin took comfort in company. In the Nest, companionship was nonexistent. There were thin alliances, tough contact, harsh touches that meant take rather than give. Shared beds were out of preserving sanity, not seeking anything as humane as warmth nor safety.
“Hey, ‘Drew,” Kevin started before he’d fully decided to. Andrew didn’t look up from his screen, but his hands stilled in their incessant typing.
But Kevin didn’t continue and after a moment, Andrew resumed his previous actions. Kevin curled his hands around the body of his paper cup and sighed. Words were not always necessary, but they were hard to come by when desired.
Andrew’s leg hit Kevin’s under the table. Kevin mumbled an (unnecessary) apology and moved his out of the way. But a second later, the deliberate kick came again, and Kevin looked up from his cup to meet Andrew’s eyes.
“What,” Andrew said. Never a question. Always with purpose.
The student center was crowded that day. Students filled every booth and every table, crowding the halls and corners in their established groups. But the way Andrew looked at Kevin was like the world was empty—meaningless—save for the one in front of him.
It hurts to look directly at the sun.
But, Kevin thought, it’s a glorious pain.
“Thanks for lunch,” Kevin decided on. It was a horrible understatement and held almost no meaning compared to the gratitude overflowing Kevin’s heart.
“You bought lunch,” Andrew said flatly. He typed another series of lines, no doubt another harsh criticism of Fitzgerald’s trivialized hedonism. But he held his breath, as if knowing there was more.
“That’s not what I meant.” Kevin clicked his tongue before shaking his head. “Just. I don’t know. Thanks for being here.”
Andrew stopped typing again. “It’s just lunch, Day.”
“With you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, though he thought he didn’t really want to anyway.
“Idiot,” Andrew muttered after a suspicious pause. Kevin grinned into his drink.
The sun didn’t always burn.
But the most inconceivable idea that Kevin had yet to indulge in was the fact he didn’t need to wait for the light anymore. He didn’t need an excuse to seek out the sun or mellow in her honeyed fractals. He didn’t need to resort back to dark rooms and harsh silhouettes when the day was done and he was the last one awake, staring at the tendrils of shadow on the ceiling when sleep threatened to divorce him for good.
He realized all this slowly, but the most clarifying moment came in an unexpected form.
Fairy lights.
“That’s…” Kevin trailed off in his sentence as he watched the twinkling orbs dance on the far side of Allison, Renee, and Dan’s room. It was mesmerizing. Too soft, too calming than Kevin had seen before. He only had a lamp and an overhead light in his room, but the warm glow of the girls’ lights draped in a vine fashion gave him a new perspective of interior design. “Um.”
Dan gave Allison a look. Allison gave Renee a look. Renee looked at the lights and back at Kevin’s oblivious expression to them and smiled softly.
No one said anything to Kevin when he cleared his throat and resumed delivering the team’s interim schedule for the next following weeks. But after he’d closed the door and left, the girls turned to each other and they knew what had to be done.
“I’ll talk to Andrew,” Renee offered.
“I’m telling Neil,” Allison declared.
“I’m filming Day’s reaction,” Dan promised.
And talk/tell/film they did.
Renee pulled Andrew aside the next day at the end of practice. His face didn’t change when he listened to her words, but his hands were already reaching for his keys. The question was, where the fuck could he buy what he needed?
Allison dragged Neil out for a mani pedi later that afternoon. He complained the entire time, but when she delivered the girls’ foolproof idea, he shut up for a second to mull it over before breaking out in a grin. He called Andrew, only to find the other man had already taken care of the expenses. Of course.
Dan charged her phone. She waited. She charged her phone again. She was ready.
And the day came, not even forty-eight hours after the girls’ idea materialized. Kevin arrived back at the dorms after an awkward but worthwhile dinner with Wymack and Abby. They were all still getting used to the idea of ‘family bonding’, but despite the challenges and sometimes heavy moments, it was all fulfilling in a way Kevin had never been granted before. Every dinner with Coach (Dad) left Kevin on edge, but not in a negative way; just humbler, more vulnerable.
That’s why when he opened the door to his and Andrew’s (and Neil’s) room, and was greeted by the unexpected sight of warm and glowing fairy lights wrapped carefully around the corners of the ceiling, it was no surprise to Kevin when his already exposed spirit left him crying softly in the middle of his room.
His very bright, soft, and devoid of any lingering shadows, room.
“Shit,” Dan said from the corner from where her, Nicky, and Neil crouched down to film Kevin’s reaction. “Why’s he crying? Is he okay? Did we do—?“
Kevin turned with a start, immediately scraping a hand down his face to wipe away the tears. “What the hell are you guys doing?”
“Out,” came Andrew’s voice. He stood in the doorway of the room, gaze boring on Kevin but demand directed at the trio in the corner. “Now.”
The three scrambled to exit; Neil included, knowing he didn’t get any pass on this matter. Kevin didn’t know whether to watch them humorously trip over themselves to depart lest they face Andrew’s wrath, or the still glowing lights twinkling slowly in and out of existence before brightening again.
“Kevin,” Andrew said. He kept the door open, not wanting Kevin to feel cornered. “What are you thinking?”
Kevin remained turned towards the lights, back to Andrew but so desperately wanting to be closer. He wasn’t angry, though he still felt the aftershocks of Dan filming such a pathetic reaction. He wished Neil hadn’t obeyed Andrew, wanting both to be in the room with him. Even Andrew remained in the doorway, not daring to perturb Kevin’s space.
But Kevin wanted his space disturbed. He didn’t want to bask in this newfound glow of home and safety alone, his honey-golden tears still drying on his face.
“They’re um…” Kevin gestured towards the lights on the wall. Another teardrop escaped down his cheek and he let it run. It wasn’t out of pain or sadness, but that near unbearable burst of love and joy and quiet relief.
He was no longer in the Nest.
It was no longer dark.
Kevin had never been so thankful to be alive in such a complete, simple, and utterly bright moment.
“I like the lights,” Kevin no more than whispered and when he felt Andrew shift behind him, the yes was out of his mouth faster than he could whip an exy ball across the court. Arms immediately encircled him from behind and it took a second to realize it was Neil after all, graciously allowed back in the room after his temporary exile.
“Good,” Neil said into the crux of Kevin’s shoulder blades. “They were a bitch to put up.”
Kevin felt a resounding thump and based on Neil’s small chuckle, Andrew had just whacked Neil on the back of his head. Despite himself, Kevin grinned.
“It’s not a night light,” Andrew muttered, which was his way of saying there was no chance in hell the lights would stay on when they slept.
But that night, when Kevin awoke momentarily with Neil near cradled in his arms and Andrew centimeters behind him, the soft glow of the still twinkling fairy lights waved at him warmly.
He drifted back to sleep, no more dark shadows to drag him under anymore.