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Summer, Pre-Freshman Year
Being at PSU was like something out of a dream. Neil knew he couldn’t stay long, but it was enough to get to play exy for at least a little while before he had to run again. It was enough to play on a real court, and not one they have to set up before dismantling it for soccer. It was enough to feel the brimming satisfaction in his chest as he scored, seeing the goal light up red.
He was so close to getting all that—so close to the stadium and plexiglass walls—but the Foxes’ nurse stood in his way. He’d always been weary of doctors, ever since he was little. The ones in Baltimore were okay enough, though there was never any privacy with them. On the run, he’d survived on over-the-counter medicine and sheer will. Abby was new. A wild card. It was unnerving, not knowing how she’d react to him. He wanted to squirm as she took his vitals.
“Shirt off,” Abby said after a while.
Neil’s heart rate picked up. “Why?”
“I can’t check track marks through cotton, Neil.”
“I don’t do drugs.”
“Good on you. Keep it that way. Now take it off.”
Neil steeled himself. It wasn’t the scars he was worried about her seeing. He already knew the look that would spread across her face. The shock. The pity. Just thinking about it woke the frustration in his lungs. But no, he could handle a little pity, even if it did make him want to hit something.
He could feel the ace bandages wrapped around his chest, constricting around his ribs with every breath. That was his mom’s solution to his “problem” on the run. Neil still remembered the day he’d told her about the binders he could buy online. She’d scolded him for even thinking of getting a pre-paid card, of putting their location on the internet, even if it was under a fake name. Don’t you know what your father’s men are capable of?
Neil never brought it up again. Not after she died. Not after he made his way to Millport. Not after he got recruited by Wymack. The bruises on his ribs were mild compared to other things he’d had to go through.
Abby tilted her head at him. “Why won’t you take off your shirt, Neil?”
Neil took a deep breath. “I’m not okay,” he said.
“You wouldn’t be a Fox if you were.”
“I won’t talk about it to you.”
Abby nodded. “I respect that. Just know that, if you ever wanted to, I’m here. Or we have a therapist, Betsy, if you’d feel more comfortable with her. You have a support system with us.”
Neil didn’t bother acknowledging her words. Exy was all the support he needed, and she was currently keeping him from that. So, Neil clenched his hands around the hem of his shirt, inhaled, then took it off.
Abby tried to conceal the shock in her face. “Neil—”
“Do I have any track marks?” Neil interrupted.
“No, but—”
“Good.” He pulled his shirt back over his head and made for the door.
“Neil, the bandages—”
“I said I wouldn’t talk about it, okay?” he snapped.
“I know, just listen.” Abby sighed with relief when he paused. “I’m assuming you aren’t wearing those because you’re hurt.”
Neil, his back to her, squeezed his eyes shut. He heard his mother in his head. I’m only allowing this because it makes you easier to hide. Don’t let anyone else find out about this. Do you understand?
“You can’t keep binding with ace bandages, Neil. You’ll break a rib.”
“I…” Do you understand? “I know.”
Neil was out the door before she could say anything else to him.
~
A few weeks later, before the Foxes were actually due to start full time practices, Neil found a package on his bed with a note attached.
Neil,
I know you don’t like people intruding in your business, but you are a valued member of this team whether you like it or not. The Foxes are a family and, again, whether you like it or not, you have been integrated into this family. As per patient/doctor confidentiality, I have not told anyone about your check-up, so there’s no need to worry about that. I’m sorry if anything I said or did came off the wrong way. It was not my intention. However, my worry about those bandages still stands and I thought I’d get you something better. You still can’t play in it, so don’t even try, but I’m hoping the bulk from your gear will help relieve any discomfort you might feel. Fingers crossed because you deserve to feel as comfortable on the field as any other player. Let me know if it’s too big or too small. The exchange is free!
Don’t wear it for more than eight hours,
Abby
Neil opened the package and held the binder up in front of him. He’d seen pictures of them online whenever his mom left him at a library for the day, but to see one in person sparked something in his chest. Quickly, he unwrapped the bandages and slipped the binder on.
It fit like a glove.
Autumn, Freshman Year
Despite Abby’s warning of not playing in the binder, Neil still has his bad days. His uniform was pretty good at hiding everything, but sometimes hiding wasn’t enough. He could still see his chest in the reflection of the glass. No one else would’ve been able to tell there was anything there, yet Neil hated the lack of security. He hated feeling like he wasn’t properly strapped together.
It was at their first game of the season that the feeling grew to a point Neil couldn’t stand. The thought of going out there without a binder, the thought of anyone seeing even the slightest hint at something he’d rather them not, made him want to hurl. So, when he changed out, he didn’t take it off.
At first, everything was fine. He played just like he had at practice. Maybe even better than at practice, with his mind unburdened by the constant posture and jersey checks. However, unlike at practice, his breaths became labored before they even hit half-time. He tried to fill his lungs, but choked before he could.
He barely had time to process that revelation when another player slammed him into the plexiglass wall. Neil clutched at his ribs, willing himself to gulp down as much oxygen as he could. By the time Abby helped him off the court and sent on his sub, his head was spinning.
“Neil,” was all she had to say for him to know that she knew.
Neil looked down at his hands, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She huffed out a breath. “You kids are gonna be the death of me.”
“Will you still let me play?”
Abby took in his state, how he was wobbling even sat down, and gave him an incredulous look. “Not in this game, kiddo. You’ve already pressed your luck.”
Neil knew she was making the right call. His ribs still hurt and his breaths were still shallow. That didn’t stop him from feeling sorry for himself as he watched from the sidelines. Wymack eyed them curiously, but he didn’t come over and ask. Abby must have given him some sort of signal to stay back.
Once the game was over, the Foxes patted him on the back. “That’s what you do when you’re injured,” Dan said as she passed him. “You don’t put up a fight.”
Neil rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. It wouldn’t stop him from putting up a fight in the future, but he felt like he was betraying Abby’s kindness by playing in his binder. She’d been the one to give it to him after all. Not that he thought she’d take it away. Plus, it would slow his game down to keep playing in it. If anything, that was one more reason not to wear it during games.
Having people care about his wellbeing was definitely going to take some getting used to.
Spring, Freshman Year
Neil wished he could say the months that passed were uneventful. But with Seth’s death, Riko, and the rest of the Moriyamas, it’s like he never got a break. He couldn’t say it was all bad, though. He had the Foxes, the first consistent family he’d had in his life. He had a room, a bed to himself, a key.
And, Andrew.
Andrew, who told him to stay. Andrew, who had his back. Who kept him safe.
Said man was currently sitting on the roof. Neil followed him up there as he so often did. Despite the other Foxes' claims, Andrew wasn’t the worst company. They didn’t talk a lot, but that was fine with Neil. Talking could take up a lot of a person. He understood that
Still, when they did talk, Neil always found himself wanting to know more. He wanted to hear Andrew’s voice as he spoke about the different places he’d been to, the different scenarios he came up with. His voice when he spoke something he was actually cared about, even though he claimed he cared about nothing.
He could say that all he wanted, but under Andrew’s bored facade, Neil saw something more. He didn’t know how the others couldn’t see it. To Neil, it was clear as day.
The roof quickly became one of Neil’s favorite places. He dangled his legs over the edge of Fox Tower, listening to the sound of Andrew’s breathing mixing with the wind. One day, they were sitting in silence when Neil remembered something Wymack said to him earlier.
“What’s above Coach’s pay grade?” Neil blurted out, unthinking.
Andrew’s hand halted, no longer fidgeting with the rips in his jeans.
He sat like that for a while before he spoke, “Coach stays out of our business. Maybe you should do the same.”
“Apparently, this involves me too,” Neil said. “Can’t exactly stay out of my own business.”
Andrew glared at him, but he wasn’t about to back down. Andrew seemed to realize this because he spoke again. “When Coach signed up, he promised to stay out of our personal problems. Said he didn’t get paid enough to deal with that alongside coaching.”
Neil furrowed his brows. “What personal problem is he staying out of? You hate me.”
“Every inch of you,” Andrew said. He seemed to be debating something. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes.”
Neil blinked, not able to put the pieces together at first. “What?”
“I will not repeat myself.”
When it finally clicked, something sunk in his chest. “You—”
Andrew cut him off. “Don’t say it.”
“—don’t see me as a guy.”
Normally, if Neil got misgendered, all the rage and righteous indignation would bubble up until he either had to walk away or explode. With Andrew, all he felt was tired.
Neil didn’t know what he expected to see when he looked over at him, but it wasn’t thinly-veiled confusion.
“You are a guy,” he said.
“I know that,” Neil said. “You’re the one who said you liked me.”
“I hate you,” Andrew corrected.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
The two of them fell silent again. Andrew went back to fidgeting with the threads on his jeans.
“I’m not a girl,” Neil said, after counting to ten in his head. “Just because I don't… I’m not a girl.”
Andrew huffed out a breath. “I know that.”
“But you—”
“I’m gay, Neil.”
Neil froze, the sentence caught in his throat. “Oh.”
“Renee said she talked to you.”
“She just said that you weren’t each other’s types.”
Andrew waited for him to figure it out.
“Oh.”
“And he finally gets it.”
They went back to their usual silence after that, like Neil’s whole world hadn’t just been pulled off its axis. He’d been trying to push his feelings for Andrew away for the past few months, only to be pulled right back in by Andrew himself. He was stuck in a state of wanting something so fiercely it almost hurt, all while knowing he’d be gone in a few months. He’d be dead and what would Andrew be left with? Andrew knew who Neil was for the most part. He couldn't be naive enough to think Neil would survive this.
In the end, he trusted Andrew’s judgment. When they kissed, Neil didn’t pull back. He leaned into it, savoring the new feeling. The feeling of wanting, of letting himself want. He never thought kissing could be like this, if his one past experience was anything to go by. There were no feelings there. No passion. None of the deeper things Andrew never outwardly expressed. But Neil could read them in the way Andrew’s lips moved against his. In the way Andrew’s fingers combed through his hair.
Neil was breathless when they broke apart. As he looked into Andrew’s eyes, golden in the setting sun, he thought he might be able to have this, if only for a little while.
Summer, Pre-Sophomore Year
A little while turned into a while, and a while turned into a lot longer than that.
Once he survived Baltimore, the small spark of hope that had been living in his chest, grew into a flame. After talking to Ichirou, the flame became a bonfire. He felt so fiercely that this life, this team, this family, were his to keep. For good.
After they won the championships, Neil asked Abby for help with getting on testosterone. It was Andrew’s idea, pointing out that if she got Neil his first binder, she might know about medically transitioning too. Abby turned out to be more than knowledgeable. Neil didn’t know how she did it but, within the week, Neil had his first appointment with an endocrinologist.
The wait for his first shot was a lot longer. Neil turned to burying himself in distractions. Dragging the Foxes to the court when he could convince them, letting the Foxes drag him (and Kevin) wherever they wanted when he couldn’t.
And sometimes, there was Andrew, stilling him in the moment. The only one who could get him to stop and breathe. Whenever he got frustrated or anxious or dysphoric, Andrew would listen in a way where Neil knew he was taking in every word. At the end of it all, a whispered “Yes or no?” would lead to them almost-but-not-quite-touching as they slept next to each other. Or linking arms as they watched the sunset from the roof. Or Andrew pushing him down and kissing him, a silent reminder that he was a boy and he was alive and that time was the only obstacle he had to face now.
After months of waiting, he finally got approved. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face while the nurse walked him through how to do the shot. Andrew, who came to the appointment with him, memorized the steps from across the room. When they locked eyes as the nurse was cleaning up, Neil could’ve sworn the corners of his mouth were turned up the slightest bit too.
Spring, Sophomore Year
The process of getting top surgery was even longer. Since he was on T, he had to wait until he hit the six-month mark. Something about muscles. Neil wasn’t really listening when Abby explained it. Abby, thankfully, offered to help him research surgeons. They spent so many long nights looking at directories and results and reading people’s experiences. It felt like he was back in Wymack’s office, sorting through potential recruits.
When they found The One, Neil almost dismissed her out of hand because of how long her waitlist was. Abby convinced him to slow down and consider her.
“This is your body, Neil.”
Neil wanted to tell her he didn’t care about his body as long as certain parts were gone, but he figured she wouldn’t like that. Still, this was the first time he got to fully choose what would happen to him. He was covered in scars and burns and bullet wounds from his life on the run. Sure, he chose to go on T, but there was still a certain lack of control there. These were scars he could customize. Scars he wanted as desperately as he wanted to play exy.
So, despite the wait, he made the call, and scheduled the consult.
Winter, Senior Year
Neil was halfway through his third year of college when he got his top surgery date. Right after the end of the Fall semester. Andrew suggested staying in Columbia while he recovered, though Neil didn’t think he would’ve said that if he knew the rest of the Foxes would invite themselves over for the holidays. Neil, however, didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to the Foxes’ rowdiness during the holidays. It wouldn’t feel complete without them. Neil knew Andrew could’ve put a stop to it if he wanted, but all the man did was make a face and move on.
Summer passed. Neil survived the first half of senior year. His pre-surgical testing appointment came and went. Then, suddenly, Neil was in a hospital gown, in a hospital room at dawn, with an IV sticking out of his arm. For the first time, after wanting this for so, so long, it all felt real.
And Neil wasn’t scared about the surgery itself, or the recovery process (though he and Betsy talked at-length about coping mechanism for him to use if it triggered any memories.) For some reason, he was freaking out about the anesthesia of all things, a tight grip on Andrew’s hand.
“You’ll be alright,” Andrew said.
Neil couldn’t even appreciate the softness in his voice with the state he was in. “How do I know if they gave me enough? I mean, what if they give me too little and I wake up before I’m supposed to? Or what if it doesn’t knock me out all the way?”
“It will,” Andrew said, smoothing back Neil’s hair.
“But—”
“Neil, look at me.”
He did.
Andrew placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’ll be fine.”
“You said the F word.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going under. Finally something to shut you up for once.”
“You’re insulting me? As I’m about to go under the knife?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”
“Once or twice,” Neil said with a grin. “Do I get a kiss before I get dragged under?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Andrew said, but leaned in anyway.
Despite Neil’s worries, there were no complications with the surgery. He woke up five hours later just fine, if a little groggy. Perched on a chair next to his bed was Andrew, halfway through the book he brought with him. The sun, now high in the sky, lit him up with an ethereal glow. Neil didn’t say anything at first. He watched his boyfriend read in the calm silence of their private room.
“Staring,” Andrew said, not taking his eyes off his book.
Neil hummed in the affirmative.
Andrew finished the page he was on before dog-earring it and reaching out to hold Neil’s hand. “Morning,” he greeted.
“Morning,” Neil said, voice raspy. “I’m hungry.”
“The nurse thought you might say that.” Andrew grabbed something off of the bedside table. “He left you some jello, but you’re only allowed to eat it after you’ve had some water.”
“He’s not here right now, is he?” Neil pointed out.
Andrew snorted. “No, but, unfortunately for you, I’m here and you’re not getting this jello until you’ve had a cup of water.”
“Unfortunate in this situation maybe, but overall I’d say I’m pretty lucky.”
“I thought you were supposed to be disoriented when you woke up. You seem pretty aware to me.”
A smile crooked at Neil’s lips. “I guess I’m just special.”
“Oh, you’re definitely special,” Andrew said, shoving the plastic cup into Neil’s unoccupied hand. “Water. Drink it.”
Neil got discharged after a couple hours. Every inch of his body. The ace bandages wrapped around him were digging the tubes from his drains deep into his sides. He didn’t miss the irony of having the wear the wrap for a week straight. He was sure Abby would get a laugh out of it.
Andrew brought the car around to the exit, then came back in to help him hobble out of the hospital. Once Neil got buckled into his mastectomy pillow, then his seat, they drove home to Colombia.
They’d set up the bedroom so that everything Neil needed was within arms length. Everything in the kitchen and bathroom were moved to where he wouldn’t have to reach up or bend to get anything. After the first day or two, he and Andrew started going on short walks (even though he wished they were runs) as the hospital suggested.
(”Maybe a slow jog is okay? They didn’t say I couldn’t jog.”
“Neil, I am literally the only thing keeping you up right now.”)
Neil only two breakdowns over needed so much help, which he considered a success. Though it was a relief to replace his bandages with a post-op binder at his one-week checkup. He’d never been so happy to shower in his entire life. And doing things for himself was a lot easier when he wasn’t being suffocated by evil beige fabric.
The original seven Foxes from Neil’s freshman year, plus Robin—a new recruit Andrew took under his wing—arrived two days before New Years. The house was filled with music and conversations and laughter. Even Andrew looked like he was enjoying himself at some points. (Mostly during movie marathons where he could cling to Neil in the dark without the others commenting.)
When the holidays ended, Neil and Andrew stayed behind at Colombia for a little longer. Neil wasn’t cleared to play for another three weeks, and he knew being near the court would be torture. It was almost funny, how long he had to wait for the things that made him whole.
Well, except for Andrew. Always by his side.
He’d distract Neil with kisses and late-night talks and baiting him into rants. He’d wash Neil’s hair, even though Neil insisted he only had to bend down to do it himself. The first time Neil saw his chest with most of the swelling and bruises gone was after one of these hair-washing sessions. He’d seen it before when he got his bandages off, and when he had to take the post-op binder off to put antibacterial ointment on his scars, but he never really looked at it. Really saw it in this light.
All he could do as he stared at himself in the mirror was laugh. It seemed ridiculous that, after so long, he could finally just live as himself. No more life-threatening obstacles in the way. It was almost hard to believe.
Andrew reflection met his gaze. “Neil.”
Neil turned to his boyfriend, his person, not bothering to dull the smile on his face. “I’m fine,” he said. And he meant it. He meant it with his whole chest.
He was still sore in places, still numb in others. He still couldn’t lift his arms very much, but he knew he’d get that mobility back soon enough. He knew he’d never have to wear a binder ever again, and that his crippling chest dysphoria was gone for good. No more getting overwhelmed before games. No more panic attacks over shirts not fitting in exactly the right way.
There had been so much bad in his life for so long that it made the good ache.
“I’m fine,” Neil repeated.
Andrew stared into his eyes, warm hazel on icy blue. Then, he said, definitive, “You’re fine.”
Neil pressed their foreheads together. “There’s that F word again.”
An amused huff of air escaped Andrew’s throat, a laugh only Neil had the privilege of seeing. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Andrew accepted the challenge, crashing his lips to Neil’s, and resting his hand on the healed skin over Neil’s heart.