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Despite all efforts, Andrew found himself in Kevin Day's kitchen. It was his first time in Kevin's kitchen and it was a jumble of messes. He had an honourable, light pink splashback and a marble looking countertop. But Andrew could see the green splosh of Kevin's kale smoothie and some residue ash that most likely belonged to Wymack. Abby could try control her boys as much as she wanted to, but she'd never be able to mask their imperfections. However, Andrew knew that wasn't her intention. She just wanted things to be clean. An admirable goal, but a useless one nonetheless.
"So," Kevin started, turning back to face him, "did you do the research I told you to do?"
Andrew stared at Kevin with a blank face.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Andrew, how are we supposed to do this properly if you won't co-operate?"
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Given the choice, I would do this alone. And I am doing it alone, Kevin. Besides, History is your forte, not mine. Why do you need my help?"
Kevin stared at Andrew. Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. Kevin sighed, "There's a lot to remember and I could use your memory, like."
Andrew raised both his eyebrows this time but maintained a black expression. "Is the Great Kevin Day admitting helplessness? Has our highness lost his way so, that he is requesting assistance from his good-for-nothing companion?"
Kevin glared at Andrew and a wave of mediocre triumph washed through him.
"Are you going to help or not?"
"Perhaps," Andrew said.
"I'll take it. Come on," Kevin turned and waved a hand for Andrew to follow. They hopped up the stairs and turned into the hallway. Kevin rambled about Alexander the Great while Andrew assessed what Kevin called a bedroom.
Kevin Day had moved into his father's house and country a year ago after his mother's death. His Irish accent was still strong, although he now said 'y'all' 2% more than he did before he landed in South Carolina. His bedroom had dull green walls and a simple white double bed tucked in the corner. The desk was piled with textbooks and tennis trophies and a single silver lamp that was covered in a thin coating of dust. Unsurprisingly, Andrew could see the floor and he couldn't find a single trace of underwear. Apparently, Kevin's organisational skills translated into his hygiene, which was, of course, more than he could say for himself.
Kevin landed on his blue and white striped duvet with a huff, words still spilling from his mouth. Andrew dumped his backpack at the leg and pulled out his laptop, "Just tell me what we need and I'll pull up anything that I find."
"Fine."
After an hour and a half, Kevin had moved to the floor, surrounded in papers he had printed, and Andrew was sitting with his back against the headboard. That was almost around the time they heard a knock on Kevin's door.
"What do you want, Neil?" Kevin, yelled, not looking up from the report in his hand.
'Neil' pushed the door open and stepped in. "Kevin, do you know where-" He stopped short when he saw Andrew and held eye contact with him. His eyes were ice blue and his hair blood red. Neil drowned in a too big Guns and Roses shirt he was certain belonged to Kevin, and acid wash boyfriend jeans. He looked… interesting. Andrew broke eye contact. "Kevin do you know where the phone charger is?" Neil repeated, looking at Kevin now. He had a British accent, nothing specific, but it rolled differently than Kevin's did.
"No."
"That's bullshit. Wymack said you had it last."
"Dad just wanted you to fuck off."
"Oi," Neil barked and pounced on Kevin, shoving a hand in his spikey hair and pulling. Kevin yelped and grabbed Neil's waist before pulling him to the ground and putting half his body weight onto the smaller child. Neil struggled against his hold.
"What do you want it for anyway?" Kevin ignored the noises of protests and reached over him to pick up another piece of paper. That one was something about Alexander's 10-night stand with the Queen of the Amazons to guarantee their alliance did he ever need their support. Neil's sock-clad feet kicked at Kevin pitifully.
"Ronan's gonna take me to the courts."
Kevin stopped his reading to look at Neil. "Why is Ronan taking you to the courts?"
Neil shrugged. "To play?" Kevin raised an eyebrow. Admittedly, Andrew did glance at Neil out of the corner of his eye. Neil shoved Kevin with his foot but otherwise stopped kicking. "Fuck you. He knows I don't swing." Oh. Well.
"And he's in love with someone else." Andrew turned back to his laptop. He opened a new tab in Google and typed 'snake' into the search bar. When the game popped up in 0.57 seconds, he clicked it open.
Neil turned to look at him for the first time since entering the room. "What?"
Andrew turned to Neil, catching his gaze immediately. Blue eyes bore into honey. All the air in his lungs evaporated. It took Andrew a moment to answer. "He's in love with someone else," he repeated. Neil's stare didn’t waver. His eyes were the ocean, and all he could do was drown. He wondered if his jaw was slack, if his eyebrows were creased. If the disinterested poker face he had spent years perfecting was still intact or if his interest was showing its tell-tale signs. He couldn't be interested. This was his best friend's brother. This was his brother's best friend. Neil didn't swing. This couldn't work. Andrew wouldn't have let in anyway.
"Ronan can feel human emotions?" Kevin asked. Andrew's eyes slide to him.
Neil kicked him again. "You're a dick." Andrew snorted. Neil looked at him, his eyes squinting this time. "Who?" he asked.
Andrew him a bored look (finally), "Ask him yourself." He pressed the space bar and continued playing. His snake was rainbow. He felt it appropriate.
"And you know that's not why I'm asking, Neil," Kevin stated, pinning Neil down and catching his gaze, tearing it from Andrew. He felt Neil's stare leave and the hole he had been burning into his head cooled, leaving it prickly. "It's all the street racing that pisses me off. He'd be such a good player if he didn't spend all his energy racing and time drinking."
"Jesus fuck, Kevin," Neil sighed, "one, you're Irish. Two, you're an alcoholic. Three, he is a good player, you've just got a stick so far up your ass I can see it when you talk." Andrew's fingers momentarily forgot their primary functions and his rainbow snake ate the apple and crashed into the wall. Kevin made a choking sound, and out of the corner of Andrew's eye, he could see him going red. Neil smirked and pushed Kevin off him. Andrew regained the ability to type.
Neil walked to Kevin's dresser and pulled the charger out from behind it. "Well, biya, lads. Good luck studying." Kevin remained where he was, flushed red, and scowling. As he walked out the room, Neil's fingers brushed over the light switch and flicked it. The lights turned off, leaving them in darkness.
Andrew could barely hear Neil huff a laugh over Kevin's Irish sounding shouts and curse words. He sat, gaping in the dark, allowing his mask to slide off slowly, even if only for a minute. He hadn't done anything, barely anything at all. Just the simplicity of knowing Neil and his complexity, had his mind racing and his heart pounding in his ears.