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Neil groaned while he laid in his bed in their dorm, careful not to turn his head or put pressure on it in any way. He had slept on it wrong the last night and ended up too sore to even go to practice. Every time he either turned to the right or tried to tilt his head back - a sudden and sharp pain that caused his eyes to widen and him to freeze. Andrew had called him a dumbass and steered him back to the locker room to help him change out, walking out right before practice and turning an uncaring ear to all the complaints and shouting that had earned from the Foxes. (Until they realized that something was wrong with Neil.)
It’s not like he hasn’t been through worse. It used to be that if he’d been stabbed or shot, he could keep running until he made it back to his mum. Back to the place they’d deemed safe. (Even if none of them had ever truly been that.)
Now. He got headaches and Andrew handed him pills to help them go away. His body got cramps or his scars started itching, and Andrew’s firm hands would be there to work lotion or massage aching muscles. Even if they were painless, his periods were as consistent as ever - but Andrew always remembered to bring pads, a hand to the back of his neck and that same steady stare.
He still remembered the way Andrew had gone down to the floor with him after Baltimore. Cataloging every single damage and holding onto him like if he did it tight enough Neil wouldn’t be taken away again.
He couldn’t remember now if his mother had ever been like that once, when he was younger. It left him with an empty ache in his gut to think that little by little, he was losing more of her just by living. Would he eventually have nothing left of her? But then he remembers he would probably always have the nightmares and the anxiety that sometimes hit him out of nowhere, her words clear as anything, telling him he was making a mistake.
Those are the parts of her he wishes he could forget, but how could he when by the end they were all he had of her? She had never left him for his entire life until that day on the beach, going off to where he couldn’t follow. Now he was the one leaving her behind.
He used to be able to push past the pain, but now Neil felt it much more acutely. He let himself be bullied by Andrew into resting. He took care of himself and his body. Did that make him weak? There never used to be time for all of that.
Or was that just an excuse she’d made? He thinks back to her expression with every one of his scars and he can’t know. She’d kept him alive but he realizes she never cared if he lived as long as he did. His fingers dig into the scars lining his stomach and he lets the texture and the roughness against his skin ground him, breathing out and letting the silence calm his suddenly racing heart.
He doesn’t want to hate her, and so he stops thinking of her.
It’s still strange, being able to laze around in bed and do nothing. Andrew is a big fan of it, but Neil still struggles to know if he’s doing it right. Where are his hands supposed to go? How is he meant to sleep like this when he still feels so restless? How is just laying here going to help? Neil guesses that he’ll just keep waiting until Andrew gets back, and then he’ll go from there.
There is still a small pit inside of him, wounded and quiet. Even when he’s not in pain and even when it’s something Neil can shrug off and say he’s fine over - Andrew is still there beside him, telling him no, you’re not fine. It’s not nothing. If you’re hurt then let me help make it better. How can Andrew be like that, all of the time? Neil’s eyes are dry but only because he ran out of tears years ago. He still doesn’t understand.
He’s told Andrew what amounts to his thoughts before. The reply is always the same, with fierce eyes: “You are not a burden. Taking care of you is something I choose to do. It is something you should have had, but you have it now.” You have me. You deserved better. I’m here. Take your time.
It strikes him to the core how Andrew can say it to him so easily but struggle letting himself be happy. It’s a bit funny how much of a mess the two of them are, and how even with all their different issues they have the same tendency to not care for themself. Andrew had hated himself but Neil… he’d never had a chance to be himself.
Maybe that’s why the way the Foxes smile at him, hug him, invite him out, and laugh with him is still foreign to him? They’re all new experiences, his relationship with Andrew most of all. He felt more in control and settled when he had people still after his life, compared to all of this. At least that had been familiar.
Neil turned over but stopped when the angle made pain shoot down his neck. He blew out a frustrated breath and returned to his original position of laying like a particularly polite corpse on the bed, hands at his sides and body completely straight. He couldn’t even play exy! He hated this.
“I hate this,” he declared when the door opened and Andrew returned, carrying a small glass bowl decorated with orange foxes and autumn leaves. It was the one the blond had caved in and bought at the store after Neil turned pleading eyes on him, because he knew Andrew was soft when it came to things he genuinely wanted or asked for. But he didn’t care about his favorite bowl now, and he would have turned over so that he wouldn’t have to see it if only his neck were cooperating. He scowled.
“Too bad,” Andrew said, voice flat and completely unaffected. Andrew had lots of practice when it came to Neil complaining about not being able to leave the bed, about not being able to play exy or go running, the fact that his body would probably get stuck like this if he had to stay in this pose any longer, etc.
Neil huffed at him and closed his eyes, the only form of protest he currently had left to him. He heard quiet clinking of metal against glass before a little clack sounded out as Andrew put the bowl on the desk. Then, the thump thump thump of Andrew’s heavy footsteps as he purposefully made noise, causing a little of Neil’s irritation to go away as the blond settled beside him on the bed, covers rustling.
“Mittens?” Andrew asked, making Neil’s eyes fly open as he stared back at hazel. He’d forgotten about Mittens. Fuck.
“Where is he?” If his voice was a little excited and made something lighten in Andrew’s eyes, well, no one would be telling.
“Right here,” Andrew said, moving over to the side and then presenting Neil’s plush jellyfish, handing it over to his covetous hands and watching in amusement as Neil placed it in the burrow of his neck where it let him feel the softness without having to bend down himself.
It caused something inside of him to loosen just a little to be holding Mittens like this. Ever since Andrew had given him to Neil, he’d adored his jellyfish. It was soft and big enough to squeeze with both hands, and the pretty blue and purple pattern of the fabric was calming. He was perfect. As far as he was concerned, Mittens was an honorary Fox. Neil took him along to every game in Andrew’s bag, and he’d never missed one ever since Neil had been given him.
He frequently fell asleep with him beside him as well, which was probably part of why he hadn’t been able to before. Andrew frequently complained about ever giving Mittens to him and liked to hide him in increasingly bizarre locations, but he always knew where to find him whenever Neil needed him.
Andrew’s hazel eyes that turned pale green shot through with warm brown whenever he was content or amused were staring at him. Neil stared back, and when a hand was held above his forehead, he nearly went cross eyed trying to look up at it, making him laugh. “Yes,” he said through his sudden smile, and soon Andrew was gently tracing over his eyebrows with his thumb. Back and forth and causing the thin hairs there to fluff up and then back down. It was an odd feeling, but Neil thought that he rather liked it.
It was similar to when he ran fingers through his stubble, only much softer. It was like running his hands through the sides of Andrew’s undercut, but reversed.
Andrew’s hand slowly traveled down, over a cheekbone that was under the fat he was still trying to gain more of, down to the point of his chin where he brushed featherlight taps until he moved on to Neil’s right ear. Starting at the top of the thin cartilage, moving down softly until he was at the lobe. He stayed there staring for a few moments, long enough that Neil was almost laughing at wondering just what was so fascinating about his ear.
“Think about earrings,” Andrew suggested, because he knew that Neil hadn’t ever before, or at least not in the context of himself. He probably wouldn’t have either, because the sight of Andrew’s own earrings had become so intertwined to Neil’s view of the other man that it was impossible for him to picture himself wearing them.
He’d never thought about getting piercings, and he didn’t think he’d want something on his face, but earrings? Those were much easier to think of, not as intimidating. Maybe not something in the lobe, but higher, like one of the ones Andrew had? He tried imagining a silver stud like that in his ear and found that he liked it.
“I will,” Neil said in reply, still smiling. It was a little exciting, thinking about it.
Andrew’s hand dropped down to his neck and rested there, not squeezing or applying any sort of pressure like it usually did. It took Neil a moment to realize, but once he did, he breathed out another sigh, this one happy. When he needed it, Andrew was careful with him. And whenever Neil needed not careful, Andrew was that too. Andrew liked taking care of him. He could recognize that now, faced with the light in hazel eyes and the relaxed set of broad shoulders. Andrew liked being able to be gentle. Being gentle with him.
A lump of emotion clogged his throat. Neil swallowed it down and didn’t look away. Oh, he thought. Maybe I understand a little better now.
He did the same with Andrew; he took care of him and was always grateful at the trust being given to him when Andrew allowed him to. Because he loved him, and he wanted Andrew to be happy. Because he wanted to help ease his struggles. Because he wanted Andrew to lean on him too.
He had never realized it before, but maybe taking care of him like this is just another way for Andrew to say, I love you.
“Neil,” he heard Andrew say, voice suddenly focused, and he looked over at him over the top of Mittens but he couldn’t see anything. It was all too blurry.
“What’s wrong?” Andrew asked him, tone turning all steady as bedrock, like he was prepared to do anything to fix what had hurt him.
“Drew,” Neil got out, before the tears overwhelmed him and stole the rest of his words away. He held out his hands. Andrew moved with no hesitation when he brought Neil into a firm embrace, the both of them sitting up in their bed with Mittens falling beside them and one of them silently crying their eyes out.
Andrew just held him.
Neil didn’t sob or make any noise. He just cried, held on to Andrew’s back, and allowed himself to let out years and years of childhood misery and pain. For all the times his parents abused him when they should have loved him. The times when he was hurt and alone. The confusion and anxiety of only now being able to be a real person. How much it hurt to be loved like this, by Andrew, accepting all of him and still being able to stay.
How wonderful it was.
“Breathe,” Andrew told him, exaggerating his breaths until Neil copied him, letting out big exhales and taking in big gulps of air until his body was settling back down and his tears were gone, now merely salt water on his skin. Andrew brushed the wetness out of his eyes and Neil sighed, wrung out.
And he didn’t ask, but that was why Neil wanted to tell him. So he said, “You’re the first person to say it.” You’re the only one.
Andrew raised a brow and let his hands lower from Neil’s shoulders to instead make their perch on his knees.
Neil shook his head, smiling. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to say.
Andrew rolled his eyes and flicked him on the nose for that, lips turned down in a scowl. “Shut the fuck up.” Then, he got up from the bed and went over to the desk and brought back the little glass bowl from before. Only this time, Neil could make out something inside of it.
“Is that…?” he started to say, eyes suddenly hungry.
Andrew scoffed. “Eat,” he demanded, dropping the bowl into Neil’s lap along with a spoon. He wasted no time in opening it up and as he was faced with a perfect yellow surface, he looked up with what felt like his entire heart in his eyes to ask, “You made me pudding?”
Andrew sighed. “I made your abomination of store brand instant pudding. Don’t look so excited.”
Neil burst out laughing at the look on his face and at the sound of it, Andrew turned away and then walked out the door. He couldn’t help it; somehow, the thought of Andrew going out to buy his favorite lemon flavored instant pudding and then making it as soon as he got home was funny to him.
It made him smile.
Lemon pudding had become something of a comfort food for him. It wasn’t too sweet and the flavoring was light, but most importantly, the consistency was just right - not too thick or thin. He made it as an after practice snack and he also ate it after nightmares or when he got too anxious. It was good at making him feel a bit better. Andrew had his own collection of go to foods himself, and so to show his approval of Neil’s new habit had ended up buying out the entire section of store brand instant pudding at the grocery store. Their cabinets had never been fuller.
Remembering the scandalized and almost scared eyes Nicky had turned on them after rooting through their kitchen for something made him grin. “What the fuck?” he’d asked them, never getting an answer.
Andrew called him an idiot, but Neil knew he didn’t mean it as something to put him down with. He wasn’t stupid, he’d just lived never knowing or experiencing the things other people took for granted. It was hard to recognize romantic or sexual interest in him as opposed to people trying to pin down who he was and kill him. He didn’t understand popular culture because he’d never been a part of it before. He hadn’t known there was a word for being trans before the Foxes had asked him. He had trouble being comfortable with drinking because he was used to dental floss stitches and alcohol as his pain killers. He still struggled over hating his mother, because all she had taught him was how to obey her. Older men made him uneasy because the ghost of his father was still there. He was uncomfortable in crowds even if he was good at blending in. He knew how to take apart a gun and then put it back together in no time at all, but he didn’t like pulling the trigger.
He loved Andrew but hadn’t realized that Andrew loved him. He’d never been loved before.
Neil was so grateful to be alive to know that - he was loved.
He ate half of his pudding and then put the top back on, getting up to put the rest of it on the desk. Remnants of his and Andrew’s course work and textbooks were piled up there, along with one of Andrew’s books he’d gotten halfway through. He’d used one of the leaves Neil had pressed and made into a bookmark, which made a slow moving warmth travel through him.
The door opened once more and Andrew fixed him with a stare. “Drink,” he said, holding out a bottle of water. Neil took it and drank, and then he looked over at the other man with a smile.
“Drew, yes or no?”
Andrew looked him over for a moment before finding whatever it was he’d been looking for. His eyes relaxed and he blinked. “Yes.”
Neil walked over and lightly hugged him, touching only his shoulders. Andrew stilled but then pulled him in until they were chest to chest, the top of Andrew’s head brushing his chin. He felt a kiss being pressed to his throat. He let himself melt into the planes of Andrew’s body, because he knew that Andrew would never let him fall.
They stood there for a while.
“Read to me?” Neil asked quietly. Andrew let out a hum and reluctantly peeled himself out of Neil’s embrace to go over to their bookshelf.
Neil went back to bed and grabbed Mittens, arranging himself under the covers. When Andrew came back, it was to a new book they’d recently bought. They’d both been intrigued at the summary but hadn’t had the time to read it yet.
Andrew sat next to him and opened to the first page. Neil closed his eyes and let Andrew’s voice wash over him.
When Neil woke up, he knew Andrew would still be there. He wasn’t afraid of the nightmares potentially visiting. Even if they were strong enough to linger, it’d be okay.
Neil Josten wasn’t fine, but everything was alright. Everyone who’d hurt him was dead. He was alive.
It was time to be kind to himself and let his body rest. He would try.
The idea didn’t scare him like it used to anymore.