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Kevin peels his eyes open and immediately feels wrong.
He isn’t sure what wakes him until his vision focuses and he sees auburn curls and bright orange running shoes. He watches Neil tie the laces like he’s still dreaming, the only confirmation he’s awake is too-bright blue eyes and the hand that brushes his arm that’s sticking out like a dead thing from under his pillow.
“You coming with?” Neil whispers.
Running with Neil had wormed its way into his routine whenever Neil notices his eyes open in the dull morning light. He’d always brush his hand against available skin and ask Kevin to join. Although far from a morning person, Kevin loves going on these runs with Neil, loves having a pocket before his day starts where he gets Neil to himself, at the time when Neil’s the most relaxed. Especially now that he’s allowed to watch Neil. He doesn’t think Neil knows how free he looks while running for instead of from.
But Kevin’s body feels heavy, his hip feels like a part of the mattress, and his head is sinking into the pillow. Not even the promise of the serene look on Neil’s face makes him want to move. He only has one eye open, so he just lets out a breath and closes it in response, his eyebrows pulling together. He can feel the weight of Neil’s gaze on him as he stands there for another few moments, and then Kevin hears the door to their room open and close. Maybe if he goes back to sleep, he can shake this feeling, lift his head.
He keeps his eyes closed and thinks he sleeps, or maybe not. His thoughts flit in and out with no direction. At one point he thinks he hears the smack of a body against plexiglass, yelled Japanese, the crack of bones. He can also hear the sound of Andrew’s soft breathing from the top bunk on the other side of the room. Kevin feels his comforter around his shoulder, the pain in his left hand.
He knows it’s not real pain, not like the ache he gets after games where he plays exclusively with his left hand. Riko had shattered it so easily as if Kevin were made of glass. He wonders what it would have been like if he’d stayed, if he hadn’t been able to find Wymack at the banquet, or if Wymack had turned him away. How many more pieces of Kevin would Riko have made, broken, claimed to have put back together in some twisted form of love, always his, always second. Kevin makes a fist, the first time he’s willed his body to move since waking up. Riko was dead, his brains blown out by his own brother, and Kevin was alive. And yet.
The blare of his alarm should have startled him, but he just blinks his eyes open slowly, listening to the loud tones. He hears Nicky's groan from above him and the creak of the bunk bed across from him as Andrew rolls over to glare at him. He blinks a few more times before his brain reminds him he’s the one who needs to shut it off. When he finally drags his left hand from where it’s weighing down his side to hit the button to shut it up he tries to use the momentum to get himself up.
He thinks about what he has to do today: work out, homework, shopping, meal prep, figuring out the camera Wymack had bought him, night practice with Andrew and Neil. The list repeats in his head, and each repetition adds more weight to his body, more itch behind his skin. Kevin is a little surprised he can breathe through the weight of it.
Instead of getting up, he pulls both of his arms in towards himself and wraps the blanket tighter around his shoulders, tucking it under his chin like it can protect him. He’s able to bring his knees to his chest although it feels as if he’s moving through sand, trying to create some abstract starfish on his side. He should get up, start his day.
Time slips by him dragging its claws as it goes, and he lets it. He sees light flicker behind his eyelids and the sound of Andrew climbing down, pausing in front of Kevin’s bed for a second before he hears the door open. There’s a fog around Kevin and he hopes tracing the light and dark shapes behind his eyes will help. He doesn’t notice Andrew’s returning footsteps.
“Are you sick,” a statement, clear, from right above him. Kevin startles slightly, his heart rate picking up and his eyes snapping open.
The room is brighter now, and Andrew looks impassive, his hand reaching out towards Kevin’s face, a question. When Kevin can only stare at him, Andrew closes the distance to place his palm on Kevin’s forehead, brushing some of the hair back.
Kevin opens his mouth to respond, but chokes on it, so lets out a breath instead and shakes his head. Andrew goes to pull his hand back and Kevin whines, something needy in him unfurling and he lifts his head to chase it. Andrew’s eyebrows twitch a little, but he allows it and runs his hand down Kevin’s cheek and back up into his hair. Kevin imagines Andrew can lift whatever dark cloak is over his thoughts.
“It’s noon.” Andrew’s tone doesn’t change, but Kevin can tell there’s a bit of worry since his fingers are still massaging Kevin’s scalp.
He’d drifted for 4 hours. Time passing through him like he didn’t exist, he needs to get up, to move, he’s wasted so much of the day. He anticipates cold water thrown on him, Riko’s strong hands, shaking him, the woosh of a cane. It’s hard to breathe, and Kevin’s hand comes to his chest, to try to pull something out, he tries to sit up, do something. Taida, taida, taida.
The hand in his hair moves to his shoulders pulling, pulling, and Kevin is moved so he's sitting up. He feels his heart pulse in his chest, down his arms into his hand, his ribcage shaking with it. His blanket is moved and there are hands on his. Andrew grabs Kevin’s right hand and positions it on his collarbone and takes his left hand to interlock their fingers, Andrew’s thumb pressing into the middle of his palm.
“You need to breathe.” Right. The heel of his right hand lifts and falls with the deep breaths Andrew takes as Kevin tries to match them, and eventually he’s able to breathe on his own enough to take his right hand back. Andrew’s thumb still presses into the center of Kevin’s left hand, not enough to hurt, just to be there, something to focus on besides the phantom pain that had been making its way to his wrist. It’s something Andrew’s done for him for a while, even before they were this.
Kevin isn’t sure how long he sits there, knees pulled close to himself, Andrew’s eyes on him, trying to get his brain to work, but eventually his bladder hurts too much to ignore and he pushes himself up and away from Andrew and into the bathroom.
When he’s done he flushes and washes his hands like they’re not his own and sits heavily onto the closed toilet seat, trying to remember how to keep moving, to get up and go outside and take back the day he’s wasted. He hasn’t turned the knob on the sink enough and the water drips the seconds away.
The door clicking open takes Kevin out of his head and he sees Neil’s face peeking through the door. When he realizes Kevin’s just sitting there, he walks over and runs a hand through his hair, pulling his head against Neil’s stomach. Kevin can smell the clean shirt and Neil’s body wash, and can’t believe he missed Neil coming back from a run, showering, changing, while Kevin, what?
“Do you want to talk about it?” Neil asks softly, gently probing the base of Kevin’s neck with his fingers. Kevin can only manage to shake his head and breathe, shoulders slumping. His elbows dig into his knees and he realizes he’s been here long enough for his legs and feet to go numb. He feels like he’s melting, or floating, or both maybe.
“C’mon.” Neil gently prods him and gets him standing, and they emerge from the bathroom. Kevin can see Andrew moving around in the kitchen, but they don’t stop until they reach the bedroom.
Kevin makes his first conscious decision since waking up and stops when Neil moves him towards his own bed. He grunts and turns towards Neil’s bed instead, so at least he’s done something. Neil just moves back his blankets and Kevin, pliant and heavy, lets himself be sat down on the bed. Andrew comes into the room not soon after and shoves a mug into Kevin’s hands.
The smell of honey and cinnamon hits his nose and he thinks of Wymack’s apartment, a novelty glass bottle of rum, a hand on his shoulder, son. It’s the tea Wymack would make himself late at night when he couldn’t sleep, the tea he’d started making for Kevin, the tea that Andrew somehow knew how to make for Kevin. The heat from the mug curls its way through his palms and Kevin is grateful to feel something other than the cavern of apathy tearing its way through him.
Andrew leaves and comes back in with a small bowl of crackers, cheese, and grapes. Kevin has settled with his back against the wall, knees pulled up and close, mug resting on one knee. Neil rests against his pillow, one of his hands curled around Kevin’s ankle, running his thumb along the bone there, the other scrolling through the smartphone he’d been basically forced into getting.
“Eat,” Andrew places the bowl next to Kevin, who takes slow sips of his tea. The cinnamon and rum on his tongue brings him back a little bit, settles something inside of him. Andrew goes to leave again. Kevin feels the frown on his face.
“Stay,” Kevin says, voice groggy from disuse. It shocks him a little bit, surprised he’s still capable of speech.
Andrew leaves the room anyway, but reappears shortly after with a book in his hands. He rolls his eyes at Kevin’s pout, but settles in next to him. Kevin focuses on the heat coming from both of them, tucks himself in the little pocket of energy they've created and holds onto this feeling so he won’t forget it.
Kevin is thankful for what he, Andrew, and Neil have. After one too many times of stumbling upon the two of them against a wall or counter, one of them making eye contact with him for longer than they should have instead of breaking apart when he’d made his presence known.
Kevin used to think he wasn’t allowed to have them, didn’t have the right to intrude on what Neil and Andrew had, what Neil and Andrew were very clearly trying to share with him. Kevin knew he wanted it, though. Knew he wanted Andrew even when the only smile hugging his lips was medicated, knew he wanted Neil when he called Kevin a coward because he had a point and so much fire in his eyes. But he’d also wanted to be Number 2, wanted to work his way to court with Riko, wanted his mom, wanted, wanted, wanted to go back to the Nest for too long after leaving, wanted the pain to stop, wanted out of the feeling settling deep within him of being a thing, prize, machine.
He’s grateful for Andrew bluntly spelling it out for him so he didn’t have to second guess himself, and the relief, the you can have this, you’re allowed.
Andrew clears his throat and gives a pointed look between the bowl and Kevin. Something like a smile rests in front of Kevin’s teeth, but he can’t quite manage it. He eats trying not to think about the food he still needs to buy, the containers he needs to clean and set aside. He’ll need to make more lists after today if he could only cut this out and get up.
A crowd cheering and the familiar sounds of Exy reach Kevin, and he flinches. He must make a noise because he hears Neil’s soft “Oh, shit,” and the sound cuts off. Kevin just feels tired and lazy. Taida, taida, taida, taida.
“Kevin,” Neil says with the force of someone who has said his name more than once, “Kevin, mon chou, look at me. You’re here with me and Drew, we’ve got you. You’re allowed to take a day, as many days as you need every once in a while.” Neil’s hands have moved to both sides of Kevin’s face, “You are not lazy, don’t give them power they don’t have anymore.”
He must have been saying it out loud, and of course, Neil knows. He was there, only for two weeks, but he knows what two weeks in the Nest feels like.
“But I have so much to do,” Kevin manages the defeated whisper.
“Do it later, you have time, so take this time for you, be with us, we’ve got you.”
The mug and bowl are gone, and arms are gently prodding him into laying down, his head against Neil’s thigh. He’s relieved he doesn’t need to be upright anymore, the weight that’s been there dragging him down again, but this time he isn’t alone, is being held afloat.
Neil finds something else on his phone, and when he settles on playing old Ted Talks for the noise, something he knows Kevin likes, his hand finds his way to the base of Kevin’s neck. Kevin tucks his toes under Andrew’s thigh and feels a hand go to his calf.
It’s a little easier, he thinks, to not have to hold himself up on his own and allows himself to drift.
Kevin wakes up hot and sweaty but rested. Random voices float from where he thinks Neil’s phone has fallen to the ground. One of Kevin’s hands has made it up Neil’s shirt to rest on his ribs, and Kevin gets lost in the rise and fall of his chest. One of Neil’s arms is tucked between the two of them, the other holding onto Kevin’s arm. The dim lamp in the room is on and Kevin can see Neil’s face is relaxed and asleep.
Kevin feels a weight on his hip which he realizes is Andrew’s foot. The rest of Andrew is curled on his side, book upside down but still in his hand. On closer inspection, he realizes Andrew is awake, head resting on his other arm, eyes shadowed by the low light in the room, but alert. Kevin takes a moment to get lost in him too, amazed he's this lucky to have them both, slotting into the broken parts of him like tattered puzzle pieces carved to be together instead of meant.
“Staring,” Andrew whispers, and something settles in Kevin’s chest, and he no longer feels heavy. “You’re okay, I promise,” Andrew whispers again and closes his eyes.
Kevin lets his eyes close slowly, feeling safe, warm, home.