Archive of Our Own ^beta

Oh, it will likely kill me

That I must live without you

With no reasoning, one reason was

The birds singing, I curled in a ball

And thought of you and all you meant

I'll compose myself, I'll get over it

For someone who spends so much of his free time playing video games, Aaron is not very good at them. At least, that's what Neil tells him after Aaron's avatar gets run through with a sword for the fourth time by Allison's muscular, hyper-feminine character. Aaron curses at Neil, at the screen, and at Allison, who cackles evilly and high-fives Renee.

Neil is not a fan of parties. Even now, after so long being safe, being surrounded by people makes him antsy, has him mapping out the exits and searching the crowd for danger. He thinks, perhaps, that’s a habit he’ll never fully kick.

Tonight, though, it's just the Foxes. Well, and a few cheerleaders, but they tend to steer clear of him (according to Katelyn, because he “ripped Marissa's heart out with his indifference”, whatever that means). Most importantly, Andrew is right next to him. As always, he is the calm center of the storm, Neil's true north and tether to the present. With him by his side, a palpable, steady presence, Neil allows himself to relax fully, to shush his runaway instincts for the time being.

Andrew seems comfortable, too, leaning back on the couch and sipping at the bright, overly-sweet concoction he whipped out with Renee (and honestly, who left those two alone with the jar of sugar?).

Aaron is losing spectacularly in his final round against Allison when Neil feels Andrew's eyes on him. It's a familiar weight, as comforting as it is thrilling. It will never stop surprising him, that he somehow manages to have Andrew's attention. He will never stop being grateful Andrew finds him worthy of it.

“Staring,” he murmurs, because Andrew secretly loves it when he's a little shit.

He's rewarded with an annoyed huff and the little frown that means Andrew's embarrassed. “I'm getting a refill,” Andrew grumbles as he gets up, and Neil smiles at him, because he can't help it. He follows his trajectory to the kitchen with his eyes and thinks, warmth settling heavy on his chest, I love this man.

He thinks that this is probably a realization he should have come to much earlier than he did, sometime back during that first year that was equal parts heaven and hell (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” Andrew once quoted when Neil expressed his mixed feelings about it), but he got there in the end, figured it out once the dust had settled after their historic championship win. Once their lives had become ridiculously mundane by Fox standards.

They were up on the roof, the soft light of dusk painting Andrew's hair pink-orange-purple, when the knowledge alighted softly inside Neil, like a feather. I love him. It settled easily within him, somewhere between his ribs and his marrow, not demanding anything but to be felt, and he smiled, small and private, as he turned back toward the sunset.

He hasn't told him, not in any serious way, not besides cheeky I love you toos when Andrew tells him he hates him, but holding the words deep inside him is enough. He is sure Andrew knows, though, he has to see it in Neil's eyes, has to feel it in his hands and lips. When Andrew says Stop looking at me like that, Neil knows the words must be written plainly on his face. Even if Andrew never wants to hear them, Neil thinks maybe simply living them is enough. Loving Andrew is just another piece of what makes Neil Josten real (the Foxes, his keys, loving Andrew, these are Neil’s truths, just like Andrew’s are sunrise, Abram, death).

Once Andrew is out of sight, Neil turns his attention back to the TV, surprised to find that Renee has taken Aaron's place on the couch. She is now playing against Nicky, laughing delightedly as he badly attempts to trash-talk her.

Andrew doesn't come back. After Renee wins by a small margin and Nicky gracefully accepts his defeat, Neil wanders off to look for him. The kitchen is empty, as is the bathroom. After a cursory glance into the girls' bedroom, he returns to the living room. It's not rare for Andrew to leave early, but it is strange that he's gone without inviting Neil along, or at least letting him know he was leaving.

Neil fiddles with his phone after checking Andrew hasn't texted, and decides to give him some time alone, in case that’s what he needs.

When he does go find him, he doesn't bother checking their dorm room, just goes straight for the stairs leading up to the roof.

“Fuck off,” he hears immediately when he opens the door.

Andrew's hair seems to glow in the dim light. His posture is rigid, and his voice is tight enough to give Neil pause. He wants to ask what's wrong, what’s changed in the short time since he got up from the couch, loose and content, but he doesn't. Because really, he understands. He knows what it's like to be okay one moment and very much not okay the next, how your mind can flip like a switch at triggers both obvious and harder to parse. For people like them, “okay” is a transitive state of being, one they know to enjoy while it lasts.

He doesn't push. He accepts Andrew's need for space and resolves to simply be on standby for when he's needed. “Okay,” he says. And then, because he wants Andrew to remember he is always within reach, he adds, “Text me if you want me to come up.”

Andrew doesn't.

Neil doesn't go to sleep, in case Andrew texts him or finally comes down. He paces the length of the living room to keep himself awake, his soft footsteps and Kevin's snores from the bedroom the only sounds.

It's a long night. He debates going back up to the roof, maybe bringing Andrew some hot chocolate, but Andrew was very clear about not wanting him there, and Neil won’t ignore that boundary just because he's worried and wants to feel useful.

Once the first rays of sun wash into the room, the restless anxiety in his stomach is so bad he realizes he will be completely unhelpful to Andrew when he comes down. Bad nights are usually followed by bad days, and he needs his head in the game if he wants to be able to be supportive. He needs to go for a run. 

He makes sure his phone is charged and the notifications are on before putting it in his pocket. It’s early enough that the streets around campus are mostly empty, even late party-goers have already stumbled back home. Running helps, like it always does. It clears his head and sharpens his thoughts. When he runs, the world is his and nothing bad can catch him. Ever since he started doing it for fun and not because he’s being chased, running makes him feel invincible and embodied like he’d rarely felt before Palmetto.

When he returns, he finds with relief that Andrew is in bed, blanket up to his forehead, still except for the rise and fall of his breathing. Neil looks at his lumpy form for a few seconds, hoping his sleep is peaceful, before he goes shower.

His hair is still wet when Andrew gets up. He didn’t sleep long, and by the dead look in his eyes and the way he hunches over, he was plagued by nightmares. He drinks the coffee Neil makes for him, but his gaze remains blank and faraway.

“Is there anything I can do?” Neil asks quietly when his mug is empty.

It takes a minute for Andrew to answer, like the words had to travel a long way to reach him. He shakes his head, a small, jerky movement. Neil nods in acknowledgment and tries not to feel helpless as he watches Andrew leave the dorm.

It sucks, seeing him suffer and not being able to make it better. When their roles are reversed, when Neil is having a bad day, he seeks Andrew’s comfort. Even when Andrew can't really help him, just having him by his side makes those days more bearable. He wishes he could be that comfort for him, too, but he understands it's different for Andrew. That on his bad days he needs to retreat and isolate, that touch or even looks can make his skin crawl. That the best thing Neil can do for him is give him space.

Neil spends the rest of Sunday catching up on homework and staring at the ceiling. He turns down Allison's invite to brunch and Matt's offer to go over to his room to watch the comedy show he’s introduced Neil to. He wouldn’t enjoy himself anyway, wondering whether Andrew’s come back and needs him there. He feels silly, knows days like this happen sometimes, knows he has them too, knows worrying doesn’t actually do anything to help Andrew. Worries anyway.

Kevin gets home in the late afternoon. He takes one look at Neil and one at the otherwise empty dorm room and demands Neil's help cooking dinner. It's a thinly-veiled attempt to distract him, but Neil goes along with it easily. He'd rather talk Exy with Kevin as they chop vegetables than keep uselessly wringing his hands.

After dinner, once Neil’s eyelids are heavy and his blinks too long, Kevin convinces him to go to bed, promises he’ll wait up for Andrew and wake him up if something happens.

Andrew comes back late at night. Neil wakes at the sound of the front door opening and closing, and manages to keep his eyes open just long enough to see him slip quietly into bed.

Monday is another bad day; Neil can see it in the slump of Andrew's shoulders, in his sunken, dull eyes, in the extra layers he's wearing, like he’s trying to disappear. Neil can relate to Nicky, who keeps sending worried looks Andrew’s way as they get changed for practice, but he does his best to be what Andrew needs right now, a solid, calm presence. He tries not to hover, not to stare at him during practice or let his worry show when Andrew skips dinner. Night practice is silently canceled, and Neil is thankful to see Kevin getting ready for bed without even bringing it up.

Andrew seems slightly better on Tuesday morning. His back is straighter and something like determination lurks in his eyes. Relief tingles warm in Neil's chest, but it freezes into ice when they step out into the hallway and Andrew says, “Catch a ride with Matt,” a flippant wave pointing Neil toward his old room, and is gone before Neil can think to question him. Kevin sends Neil a confused and apologetic look before following Andrew down the stairs.

Neil stands there for a minute, hurt and annoyed, trying to figure out what just happened and coming up empty. Guessing at Andrew’s thoughts and motivations is useless, since there is only one way to know for sure. He’ll have to wait until they’re alone to ask him.

Matt is surprised when he opens his door to find Neil waiting on the other side, but happy as always to see him. “Neil! Hi, bud, what’s up?”

“Can you drive me to practice?” he asks, trying to keep the nagging worry he feels out of his voice.

“Yeah, of course! Uh… is everything okay? Where’s Andrew?”

Neil opens his mouth to make up some excuse when Matt gets bodily shoved out of the way by Aaron, which looks kind of comical, since Aaron’s head barely reaches Matt’s chest. Neil moves away from the doorframe to avoid getting barreled over as Aaron steps out, grumbling over his shoulder, “He’s gonna leave us here if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

“I know, I know, I’m ready,” Nicky answers from just behind him, jumping on one foot as he puts on his shoe.

The two of them come to a halt when they see Neil.

“Neil! Did Andrew send you up to threaten us into hurrying? Don’t worry, we’re here and ready to go!”

“Um… No, actually. I’m riding with Matt today.”

Aaron looks at him suspiciously. “Why?”

Neil shrugs. He wishes he knew. “I wanted to talk to him about my class schedule.” The lie falls smoothly from his tongue, and he realizes it’s been a while since he’s lied to any of the Foxes. He supposes it’s a good thing the ability hasn’t gotten rusty with disuse, but it leaves a sour aftertaste in his mouth. He looks back up at Matt as he says, “I’m not sure about some of my classes. I thought you and Dan could help? Like in my freshman year?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, dude!”

“Okay, we really do have to go, see you guys soon!” Nicky calls as he propels Aaron toward the staircase.

On the drive to the stadium Neil pretends to pay attention to Dan and Matt’s scheduling advice even though he doesn’t need it, squished between them in the cab of the truck, and tries not to jiggle his leg too much with pent-up nerves. He takes a second to feel relieved he didn’t think to ask Allison for a ride instead, as she and Renee would have trapped him under their joint laser-focus and had him figured out in the ten minutes it took to get to the court.

Andrew doesn’t even look at him in the locker room, his face bored and impassive as he puts on his gear. It drives Neil crazy. He’s distracted all throughout practice. He keeps thinking about Saturday night, Andrew’s sudden distance. He thought it was just a bad night, but now he’s not so sure. He goes back over his interactions with Andrew at the party and since then, trying to find where he misstepped. There have been very few of them since that night, actually, and he can’t pinpoint anything that might have upset or angered him.

Exy is usually great at quieting Neil’s mind. His playing style is instinctual, it requires for his internal monologue to shut up and let his muscles and impulses take the wheel, but it’s not working today. He feels frazzled, frustration welling up in his throat every time his focus gets split between the drill and Andrew. Kevin is on his back the whole time, yelling at him every time he fumbles a pass or misses an opening, and it’s not helping Neil’s shot nerves.

By the time Dan calls an end to practice, he feels like a trapped animal that’s just spent two hours ineffectually throwing itself against the bars of its cage. Every muscle in his body aches, but he feels none of the release and accomplishment of having exercised. He rips off his helmet and stomps off to the locker room, where he locks himself into the first available shower stall and tries to let the warm water wash off his irritation.

His teammates leave him alone as they get dressed and leave the room. Matt pats his shoulder comfortingly on his way out, and Nicky gives him a weak smile, but not even Kevin attempts to talk to him again.

It’s a while before Andrew finally comes out of the shower, and Neil does his best to not sound accusing when he asks, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Andrew replies tonelessly as he puts on his hoodie.

Neil gives him a second, but that’s all Andrew has to say. “Okay,” he says. “Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.”

The annoyance Neil has been trying to keep at bay rises inside him. “You made me ride with Matt.”

Andrew looks at him with that same plain, blank expression. “So? I thought Matt was your friend,” he says, like that’s any kind of answer.

And this makes no sense. This is worse than Andrew being outwardly mad at him, this act of I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m being perfectly rational right now, you are the one who’s acting strange. 

It’s frustrating, because this is not how they handle conflict. This is not how Andrew acts on bad days, and it’s also not how he treats Neil, ever, not even when he’s angry. He and Andrew don’t do passive-aggressive when they’re mad at each other, they either talk it out in the moment or, when they need some space, they retreat and regroup when they’re ready to hash it out. Andrew faking ignorance at why Neil has read something into being pushed away doesn’t sit right with him.

He’s about to tell Andrew to cut the bullshit when Kevin slams the door open and snaps at them to hurry up and get out to the lounge.

Apparently whatever is going on with Andrew will require a longer conversation, and this is not the time or place for it, so Neil gives it up for now and follows Kevin out. 

On bad days, even the smallest of touches are a land mine, and Andrew feels about as approachable as a cactus right now, so Neil makes sure not to accidentally brush against his thigh or arm and leaves an inch of space between their bodies on the couch. 

The anxiety buzzing through his veins after a frustrating practice and an even more frustrating conversation has him itching to move by the time Wymack is done talking, so he immediately jumps up and turns to Andrew. “I'm going for a run,” he tells him.

“Do whatever you want,” Andrew replies, his tone bored. “I'm not your keeper.” 

Neil’s blood runs suddenly cold. He goes stock-still. …What? What the fuck was that about? Obviously Andrew isn’t his keeper, that’s not why he told him. It’s just that he is Neil’s… something. Not a boyfriend and not a partner, because Neil refuses to make that decision for Andrew, but they are something, and Neil doesn’t want to just leave without letting him know. It’s the same thing Matt does when he tells Dan he’s going to the supermarket before leaving the dorm, the same thing Allison does when she pats Renee’s knee and says “I’m going to the bathroom,” before getting up from the couch. It’s what people do, apparently.

He’s learned, through living with the Foxes, that when you up and vanish without a word to anyone, they worry. That when you have people who care about you, they want to know that you’re safe. When he tells Andrew where he’s going, it feels like a promise. A promise to come back. It’s a reminder to himself that he has a place to come back to, a home, a person waiting for him. It makes Neil feel more solid, more real, to know that there are people in this world who would feel bad if he didn’t return.

Andrew gets up and leaves the lounge without looking at Neil once. This means either he lied to Neil and he really is mad at him, or… or what? He has no idea.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” snaps Allison. Renee places a placating hand on her arm, but her eyes are thoughtful on the door Andrew’s just stepped through.

“It’s fine,” Neil shrugs it off, because it will be. He just has to figure out what’s wrong and make it right.

Running soothes Neil’s buzzing discontent. He thinks, as the trees and people around him fly by as blurry smudges or color, that maybe this isn’t about him at all. If Andrew’s having a rough time, he might be snapping at anyone he encounters, and Neil keeps putting himself in his way. Minds and trauma are sticky, complex things. Maybe what Andrew needs right now is not for Neil to read into everything he does, but simply to wait him out. To be patient until Andrew comes out of whatever funk he’s in and talks to him. He can do that.

Neil tries to focus on his classes and goes straight to the library afterwards, where he gets all of his pending assignments out of the way. He loses track of time, and blinks in surprise when he steps out of the building to find the sun has set.

Andrew doesn’t move from his perch by the window as Neil and Kevin get ready for night practice, so it’s not a surprise when he says, flicking ash off his cigarette, “You can drive yourself tonight.”  

Kevin waits until they’re in the car before asking, “What’s going on with Andrew?”

Neil shrugs, “Bad day, I guess,” he says, even though he’s not quite convinced. It doesn’t look like Kevin believes it, either, but he doesn’t push, choosing instead to brainstorm plays they can practice without a goalkeeper there.

Despite his resolve to not take it personally, Neil doesn’t want to find out whether Andrew will send him away again on Wednesday. He slips out of the dorm room before he and Kevin even wake up, feeling silly and cowardly, and knocks on Matt’s door again.

It’s Aaron who opens it this time, looking grumpy and sleep-tousled in his pajamas and glasses. He scowls at Neil. “What the fuck are you doing here at ass o’clock in the morning, Josten?” His voice is gravelly with disuse.

“Oh, haven't you heard?” he says, eyes wide with fake innocence. “There's a rumor going around that you're actually a ray of sunshine and only turn into a dick when the clock strikes seven a.m., like… what's her name? With the shoes and the carrot? Anyway, thought I’d come see that miracle for myself. I can leave now, though, since it’s clearly true.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes and flips him off, but moves to the side to let him in. “Cinderella, dumbass. And it's a fucking pumpkin, not a carrot, even you should know that.”

Neil hides his smirk and shrugs. “Orange. Same difference.”

Aaron was apparently already up, because he settles on the couch where a blanket, a steaming mug, and a pile of papers await. “There’s coffee in the pot,” he says distractedly as he picks up a book larger than his head.

Neil makes himself a cup and joins Aaron on the couch.

“You and Andrew fighting?” Aaron asks after a few minutes of peaceful silence, without looking up from his book.

Neil stares into the dark face of the TV, he and Aaron two indistinct shapes on its surface. “Not sure,” he admits. “I think he’s mad at me, but I can’t figure out what I said or did that caused it.”

Aaron snorts. “You say and do a thousand idiotic things a day, Josten, you’ll be trying to figure it out forever.”

“Asshole,” Neil mutters, just as Matt walks into the room, looking much too cheery for the time of day.

“Goooood morning! Oh, Neil, hi! What are you doing here? Bonding time with the in-law?” he says with a grin as he saunters over to them. Neil and Aaron make identical dramatic gags, and Matt laughs as he ruffles Aaron’s hair.

“You need a ride again?” Matt asks shrewdly as he easily avoids Aaron’s retaliating kick.

“Is that okay?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks.” 

Neil relaxes back onto the cushions and lets the sounds of his friends getting ready lull him into an almost meditative state. Nicky attempts to interrogate him when he sees he’s there, but he’s running so late that he doesn’t get the chance to extract more than a noncommittal shrug from Neil before he has to rush to get dressed and use the bathroom.

In Matt’s truck, Dan asks him gently whether he and Andrew are on the outs, but changes the subject easily when Neil deflects the question. He pretends he doesn’t see the look she and Matt exchange over his head.

Andrew barely glances at him when he enters the locker room. Neil pointedly ignores the sharp stab of hurt he feels at that and reminds himself he is waiting for Andrew to come to him when he’s ready.

He focuses all his attention on the scrimmage Dan and Wymack set up, worrying only about the ball and the best way to get to it. At least Kevin doesn’t harass him all practice, which is an improvement.

In the lounge, he realizes Andrew might not want him so close if he’s trying to get some space from Neil, so he asks, “Can I sit here?”

Andrew keeps his eyes straight ahead as he shrugs. “Do whatever you want.”

It shouldn’t hurt so much, to bear the brunt of Andrew’s indifference, but it does, and he aches to have those intense eyes on him again, to elicit any kind of reaction out of him, anything real. Look at me, he silently begs. At least look at me.

Andrew doesn’t move, so when Wymack enters the room, Neil sits on a chair by the upperclasmen’s couch. Do whatever you want feels closer to a no than a yes.

Neil resolutely ignores the looks his friends send him until Wymack wraps things up and Andrew leaves the room. Kevin and Aaron give him parting concerned frowns, and Nicky grimaces in apology before following them out.  

“Okay, which building are you in for first period?” Allison asks briskly into the silence that follows. “I’ll drive you.”

Neil sighs but lets her bundle him into her pink convertible. She keeps up a steady stream of conversation, bitching about the useless group she got assigned for her sociology class, uncaring of his silence, and Neil tries to focus on her words instead of his unhappy thoughts. He’s thankful for her, but even more so for Renee, who deftly redirects the conversation whenever Allison gets too blunt in her attempts  to get him to spill about what’s going on.

The rest of the day passes in fits and starts. Some hours stretch endlessly, others fly by in the blink of an eye. The only constant is the uneasy tug of missing Andrew. It hasn’t even been that long of this weird distance, but Neil is used to Andrew being there whenever Neil reaches for him, at most a phone call away. Giving him space hasn't brought him any closer to Neil, and it's starting to feel like Andrew will never find his way back to him. What if he’s going about this all wrong?

He thinks about it while playing video games with Aaron that evening. “You know I’m pre-med, right, jerk? Some of us intend to have a career that doesn’t involve waving sticks around for the rest of our lives. I should be studying instead of wasting my time on you,” Aaron said when he opened the door to find Neil there yet again, like a grubby stray cat that keeps showing up for food and shelter. But since Aaron’s mostly bark and only a little bite, he let Neil in, shoved his laptop and the pile of papers he’d been working on aside, and picked up a controller.

“Well, some of us are smart enough we don’t need to study all day to pass our classes. Not my fault you’re the dumb twin,” Neil replied with a shrug as the game loaded on the screen.

Aaron muttered darkly under his breath, something about “moronic math nerds”, “fucking eidetic memory”, and “next time… kick your ass out of my room.” 

Neil smiled. Freshman-year Neil would’ve scoffed at the thought of it, but it’s actually nice, being friends with Aaron. It means he still gets to annoy the shit out of him, but now without any real risk of bodily harm. It means never having to explain why he loves Andrew, because Aaron loves him just as much. It also means that sometimes, when they’re alone, he can talk about his mom with someone who will understand all his complicated feelings for her, someone who knows what it’s like to miss and grieve your mother even though she hurt you. How you can love and hate the person who gave you life and then made it miserable.

This time they don't talk much at all, Neil’s too lost in his thoughts. They play for a couple of hours until Aaron really does have to get back to studying, and by then, Neil has decided he’s probably given Andrew enough space, and it’s now time to reach out to him again. 

When Kevin goes to the bathroom before they leave for night practice, Neil slips away to the roof.

“I'm not going,” Andrew warns as soon as he sees him. Just being near him makes Neil feel more settled, more confident in his ability to make this right. As long as Andrew doesn’t shut him out, they can work this out. Whatever is going on, they can get through it together, he’s sure of it. They just need to talk about it.

He sits down next to Andrew near the edge and rests his head on his knees, his eyes on Andrew. He looks wan and tense, and Neil wonders whether it’s his fault, whether he’s the cause of the rigidity in Andrew’s shoulders. “Me neither,” he says.

A muscle twitches in Andrew’s jaw. “Kevin will be pissed.”

Neil snorts. “Since when do you care about pissing Kevin off?”

Andrew doesn’t answer or move, a statue so cold Neil wants to reach out and breathe life into. It feels like so long since Andrew’s been this guarded around him, Neil feels like he’s losing something, somehow.

“What's going on?” he asks quietly.

“Nothing.”

A wave of tiredness washes over Neil. They will get nowhere if Andrew refuses to even acknowledge something’s wrong. He sighs. “You've been off since the party. I thought it was just a bad day, but you're ignoring me. You haven't been talking to me…”

“I'm talking to you right now.”

Neil doesn’t dignify that childish deflection with a reply. “Talk to me.” He sounds awfully close to begging. “Tell me what I did that upset you. Or what's bothering you.” Tell me where I stand with you. Tell me how to make it better.

For a second, Neil actually thinks Andrew’s about to finally give him something real. Then, he stands up abruptly and shakes his head at Neil. “Go play stickball with Kevin,” he says, that look in his eye that makes Neil feel like he’s standing on the wrong side of a too-high wall. “I don't want to put up with his whining tomorrow.” He leaves. He keeps doing that. Leaving Neil behind.

Something withers inside Neil. Oh. He’s being shut off again. He remembers this, even though it wasn’t quite the same, from his first weeks at Palmetto. Remembers being certain that trying to kick down Andrew’s walls would result in nothing but a broken foot. But even back then, when Andrew allegedly wanted nothing to do with him, there were cracks. Even though Neil couldn’t see them, even though he wasn’t aware he was doing it, he’d slipped through them until he found himself on the other side. Now it seems he’s been banished again, for reasons unknown.

Kevin scowls at him when he finally gets back into their dorm room. “Thanks for up and leaving while I was in the bathroom, asshole,” he snaps. Neil notices the bedroom door is firmly shut behind him.

“Whatever.” The weariness he’s been carrying around is clear in his voice, and Kevin’s frown softens a fraction. “Let’s go.”

Working through drills with Kevin reminds Neil of a conversation he had with Andrew a long time ago, about Neil’s playing style being nothing like Kevin’s cold, calculated method. Maybe, he thinks, that’s where he’s got this wrong. He’s been too cerebral about this, thinking himself into despair, drawing up equations and conclusions from overanalyzing words and gestures like he can figure this out by being anything other than himself. 

On Thursday, he stops retreating. He won’t assume he’s not wanted. He won’t act like Andrew’s sent him away until he actually does. He squares his shoulders and faces Andrew head-on when he comes out of the bedroom. 

Andrew doesn’t speak to him, but he doesn’t tell him to ride with Matt, either, and sitting in the passenger seat of the Maserati, Neil feels his resolve strengthened by this small victory. This is good. They can actually get somewhere if they stop avoiding each other.

Andrew is ruthless during practice, shutting down the goal like it’s an actual game and almost maiming their teammates by slamming every shot away and at them. Any sympathy Neil feels for them is drowned out by the release of pressure in his chest at Andrew being something other than blank and impassive. Andrew acting out means whatever he’s feeling is close to the surface where Neil can coax it out.

“Josten! Get your ass over here,” barks Wymack after Andrew almost decapitates Dan.

Neil jogs over and lets the court door slam shut behind him. “Yes, Coach?”

“Don’t ‘Yes, Coach’ me, you little shit. Tell that son of a bitch to cut it out, now.”

Neil crosses his arms and glares. “I’m not going back to playing middleman like Andrew’s a wild beast that needs a handler. You can tell him yourself.”

Wymack glares right back. “I have, smartass, more than once. It goes in one ear and out the other. Just fucking tell him to stand down, would you.”

“No, I won’t, actually. He’s defending the goal, you know, like a goalkeeper is supposed to? If you want him to be nicer about it you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

Wymack makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Christ, what the hell is wrong with the two of you today? Josten—”

Neil ignores him and stomps back onto the court. He knows Wymack is not afraid of Andrew and doesn’t think he’s a monster that needs to be managed, that he just knows Andrew is more likely to listen to Neil than anyone else, but it still bothers him. He had convinced Andrew to do things other people wanted from him back before they got together, before he understood why he had that pull. But he knows better now, and he won’t do it, not for something as unimportant as this. Wymack asked, and Andrew said no. That should be enough. Besides, he’s not even sure Andrew would give him the time of day right now.

Later, after his sole class of the day, Neil has lunch with Dan, Matt and Allison. Renee, according to Allison, is off somewhere with Andrew. Neil breathes a little easier, knowing he’s with her, that he might talk to her. At the very least, they’re beating the shit out of each other, which always seems to help Andrew when he’s not doing well.

“So…” Matt starts, his voice loud enough to carry over the din of the athletes’ dining hall. “Andrew was brutal today.”

Neil pretends this wasn’t clearly directed at him and tries to spear a pea with his fork.

“Neil… what are you fighting about?” Dan asks him gently.

He shrugs, not meeting any of their eyes. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

Allison huffs in annoyance. “Okay, well, we know you have a very loose definition of ‘fine’, babe, but your boyfriend icing you out and then throwing a hissy fit at practice doesn’t scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Neil reminds her automatically.

Allison rolls her eyes in his peripheral vision. “Sure—”

“We just want to make sure you’re okay, bud,” Matt interrupts her. “I don’t think we’ve seen you two fighting since…” he frowns. “Wait, I actually can’t remember.”

“Neil’s freshman year?” suggests Dan.

“But that was before they got together, right?”

“People! Focus!” Allison snaps her fingers at them.

“Right. Neil.” Dan waits until he meets her eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to us about it. Just know that you can, yeah?”

Neil nods, grateful as ever for these incredible, ridiculous people who took one look at him and decided to adopt him, never asking more from him than he was willing to give. It’s this thought that makes him want to give them something true, but before he can say anything, Allison makes an outraged sound.

“Excuse you! I am not okay with that. Neil, platonic love of my life, tell me right this second what is up with your not-your-boyfriend.”

Dan punches her arm, but Neil smiles, amused. “It’ll be fine. I’ll try to talk to him tonight,” he says. He is pretty sure that wouldn’t be a satisfactory response from anyone else, but his friends smile and nod at him like he’s just spilled his deepest secrets (again). 

“Good,” says Allison. “There is only room for one bitchy Minyard on this team, and Aaron has dibs. Besides, I may have been planning on talking Andrew into letting me use him as my model for one of my classes, and there’s no way I can do that if he’s all pissy.”

It’s Neil’s turn to roll his eyes, but the small smile doesn’t leave his face for the rest of lunch.

That night, Neil finds Andrew on the roof again. Andrew once told him that in one of his foster homes they let him go to the library every Saturday, and one of his favorite books was one on Greek mythology. Sometimes, when Neil’s nightmares wake him up and keep him awake, Andrew tells him, quietly, about gods and heroes, wars and creatures of legend. Neil thinks, now, of Ariadne and Theseus. If you’re lost inside your head, let me be your thread out of the maze, he thinks. Let me guide you out, back to me.

This time, he doesn’t ask wide questions that Andrew can deflect. He needs to be himself and stop walking on eggshells around this. “I've been thinking about it a lot. Trying to understand what's wrong,” he says after sitting down next to Andrew. He is struck, like he so often is, by the sight of him. Andrew’s eyes are molten gold in the soft light of the setting sun, and the skin of his eyelids is paper-thin, almost translucent. This close, he looks equal parts deeply human and ethereal, and Neil feels that tug in his heart, that slow, warm syrup bleeding through him that makes him want to tuck Andrew into his chest, hold him within his ribcage where can be safe and unhurt by the world.

He tries to be as clear and receptive as possible. He continues, “And I figure it's either (a),” he raises his thumb, “I've said or done something that annoyed or upset you, in which case you need to tell me so I can fix it, or (b),” he raises his index finger, “it's an internal thing, you've been thinking about something that's made you push me away, in which case you also need to tell me so we can work it out.” Andrew still won’t look at him. “Either way, you have to talk to me, Andrew. I can't read your mind and this week's fucking sucked,” he admits. He stares at Andrew’s profile, his heart beating faster, hoping for an answer. “So what is it?”

Andrew keeps his eyes on the sky, and Neil can see his jaw working. After a few seconds, he says tightly, “You didn't do anything.”

Neil’s breath shakes embarrassingly on its way out. “Okay,” he says. Good. Knowing this, he can get them moving forward. “So it's something going on in your mind. Is it... is it about your past?” he asks, hoping he’s not trodding on any lines Andrew would rather he stayed away from. “I mean, is it just something you want to deal with away from me?” he clarifies. “Or is it about me?”

Andrew is quiet for so long that Neil starts to fear he won’t respond. Finally, he turns to look at Neil. It feels like so long since the last time Andrew truly looked at him that Neil’s breath catches. The swirling gold of Andrew’s eyes roves over him for a couple of seconds before he says, firm and sure, “We're not doing this anymore,” gesturing between himself and Neil.

Neil’s heart stops, frozen in the space between one pump and the next. It takes him a second to grasp what is going on. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asks in a rush, his heart restarting, dropping like a stone somewhere near his stomach, the pulse in his temples singing no, no, no, please say no.

“There is nothing to break,” Andrew says, impossible to read, his walls firmly shut around him and leaving Neil so very far away, cold and alone in the outdoors. 

And it’s not fair, that Andrew would break Neil’s heart without having the guts to acknowledge he’s doing it over a technicality, so Neil insists, “Fine, are you done with me, then?”

“I'm bored,” Andrew says at last.

Neil has been shot before, in the shoulder (so close to his heart that Mary screamed, an instinctive, guttural sound ripped from her very core, picked Neil up in her arms and held him like the Virgin Mary cradling Jesus’ body down from the cross in that painting Neil saw in the church where he squatted his first week in Millport, didn’t breathe until she saw the bleeding wound was on his shoulder). He knows what it feels like, the force of the impact, the way it pushes you back when it hits you hard and fast and then keeps going, tearing through your body with blunt strength, making room for itself inside you where there isn’t any. How the best you can hope for is a clean exit on the other side. 

Andrew’s words are a bullet to the chest.

He takes a deep breath and looks out at the fading colors of the sunset draining from the sky. The sun is gone.

He used to wonder, back at the beginning, whether Andrew’s interest in him would fade. He knows the reason Andrew was drawn to him in the first place was that he found him interesting, intriguing, that the puzzle that was Neil Josten was one of the rare things that managed to capture his attention through the haze of his meds. Once Neil was no longer a threat, he was a distraction from monotony. Entertainment. After Baltimore, Neil worried that since Andrew now knew all his secrets, knew him inside and out, he might finally grow tired of him. That what made Andrew want him would flicker like a dying lightbulb until it fizzled out for good. ("I'll get bored of you eventually." "You sure? Rumor has it I'm pretty interesting." "Don't believe everything you hear.")

That fear has been assuaged by Andrew’s attention remaining trained on him months, years later, unwavering. Neil was sure what they have had evolved past something so easily snuffed out. He believed, down to his bones, that he and Andrew were it for each other. Why else would Andrew touch him so reverently? Why else would he trust him so deeply? Why else would he cuddle with him on the couch, or listen to him rant about professors, or trace the scars on his knuckles so tenderly with his thumb? Why else all the quiet words, all the loving gestures, all the soft looks? Did Neil really have it all so wrong?

Despite it all, he knows what Andrew means. Not confirming he’s done with Neil means it’s not as simple as that. It means he’s not asking Neil to leave. It means Neil can stay, that all he’s losing is Andrew. As if that wasn’t enough.

After a suffocating silence with the only sound that of Neil’s throat struggling to swallow around the knot of grief lodged in it, he makes himself say, “Okay.” There is nothing else to say. If Andrew doesn’t want him anymore, nothing Neil says can change that.

He stands up, feeling like the world around him has lost a bit of its definition. It’s the strange, queasy feeling he was familiar with while on the run. He felt it waiting at a bus stop at two in the morning, not knowing where he’d be the next day. He felt it eating vending machine food huddled in a rundown motel on their way from somewhere and heading somewhere else, sure for a moment that that liminal space was all he’d ever known. He felt it on a California beach, watching a car burn as his life slipped from his fingers like the sand under his feet. 

He doesn’t look back at Andrew as he leaves.

The walk down the flight of stairs between the roof and their dorm room is endless and surreal, like walking down Penrose steps. He thinks, hazily, that it feels like one of the ties that bind Neil Josten to the world, to this body and mind, has just been cut.

Inside their room, Kevin is waiting impatiently by the door, ready to go. His face goes awfully empty when he looks at Neil. “What happened?” he whispers hoarsely. 

It’s Kevin’s sudden fear that snaps the world back onto its axis. Right. This is not the end of Neil’s world. There’s Exy, and the Foxes, and the Moriyamas. There are a thousand swirling pieces that make up Neil Josten. His world does not end tonight.

“Let’s go,” he says. Kevin’s face regains some color as Neil picks up his keys and leads them out.

“Andrew?” Kevin asks, and Neil understands what he means, understands that, for a second there, Kevin thought Ichirou had called, or a Fox had died, or his life had imploded in some other way he didn’t yet know.

He knows what Kevin means, what he’s really asking, but he only says, “Not coming.”

Kevin doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything when Neil drives a little faster than usual, when he tugs the fastenings on his gear a little more forcefully than necessary. 

He only snaps when Neil keeps going over the new play they’ve been practicing even once his arms start to shake. “Neil,” he says, stern but trying to sound calm. “Stop. That’s enough, you’ve been at it for almost two hours, let’s get out of here.”

Neil ignores him. Step, step, feint, jump, shoot. He puts more force behind the shot this time, just to spite Kevin. He walks back to his starting position. Step, step, feint, jump, shoot. A muscle spasms in his forearm and the ball lands wide of its target. “Shit,” he curses under his breath. Back to starting position. Two shots later, he drops the ball before he can even aim.

“That’s enough, Neil!” Kevin barks at him, grabbing Neil’s racquet and pulling. It goes easily out of Neil’s stiff hands. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice shakes with anger.

Neil lets his arms drop at his sides, his knees drop to the ground.

After seeing him struggle with his helmet for a few seconds, Kevin sighs deeply and crouches down in front of him. He takes off Neil’s helmet and gloves, frowns at him. “Did he break up with you?” he asks quietly.

Neil presses his hands against the floor, holds them in place for a moment until he’s sure his arms won’t buckle beneath his weight, and then pushes himself to his feet. He drags himself off the court and into the showers, his mind empty at last, his thoughts just a low hum like TV static.

The soreness of his muscles doesn’t stop him from waking up early the next morning. He avoids looking at Andrew’s bed, forces himself to eat a bowl of cereal, and puts his running clothes on.

He runs too fast, pushes his tired legs too hard, lets the sting of pain and the whip of the air against his face consume him. He slows down when his lungs hurt too much, sits on a bench and looks out at the trees, thinks of nothing. 

He startles when his phone pings in his pocket, and he realizes he never took it out of his running shorts. He wonders what it means that he didn’t even notice it hitting his thigh as he ran. The battery blinks red in warning above Matt’s text: riding w andrw 2day or do we wait 4 u? He looks at the time, realizes he’ll have to run to the stadium if he wants to make it to practice on time. He texts Matt to go ahead without him and sets off again.

“Have you been running since you left the dorm?” Kevin asks him incredulously when he hurries into the locker room, panting and drenched in sweat. He shrugs. Kevin’s tone turns furious. “Are you insane? You're already tired, how are you supposed to give it your all at practice?”

“I'm fine, Kevin,” Neil dismisses him airily as he walks over to his locker. He really can’t put up with Kevin’s shit today. 

Neil feels Andrew’s presence across the room like a siren call. He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood and does not look at him.

It’s easier not to care if he’s too busy to think, if his body is working overtime to keep him moving, so he pushes himself to run faster, to jump higher, to check more forcefully. He fixes his eyes on the promise of championships on the horizon and lets it drive him on.

“Cool it down, Neil!” Dan reminds him for the fifth time.

Neil ignores her, just like he ignores Wymack threatening to bench him forever if he doesn’t take it easy. He tells Kevin to fuck off when he keeps furiously chewing him out. If he stops, he’ll think about Andrew standing in goal, not wanting him. He pushes himself harder.

Kevin intercepts him after his shower. “Stay,” he orders.

Neil mutters something about Wymack needing them in the lounge and tries to get past him.

“I told him not to wait for us,” Kevin says as he blocks his exit. “What you did today? It can’t happen again.”

Neil huffs and retreats to his locker. Maybe if he puts some space between them he can resist the urge to punch Kevin in his stupid, self-righteous face.

“Listen, Neil—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snaps.

“Well, I don’t give a shit! You are throwing the entire team off-balance with this self-punishing stunt you’re pulling. If you don’t get it together, it will ruin us, and, in case you forgot, we have Ichirou hanging over our fucking heads, we can't afford to—”

“Stop it,” Neil bites out. “You think I don't know that? I'm doing what I can to get us there.” It’s not even a lie, Neil has given his blood, sweat and tears to this team, wants them to win again with an intensity that has to do with more than just his life being on the line.

“You're running yourself into the ground! If you get injured because you don't know when to stop, we're fucked.”

Neil just needs him to shut up. “Kevin—”

“Look, I know you're upset because Andrew broke up with you, but your heartbreak is going to cost us championships if you—”

All at once Neil’s had enough. He snaps like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point and slams Kevin into the lockers in one quick movement. “Shut up.” He sounds dangerous to his own ears. He sounds like the Butcher’s son. “You don't know shit about me and Andrew, so focus on your own fucking game and leave me the fuck alone.”

Kevin’s eyes are wide, surprised but not scared. His voice is softer when he speaks again. “Neil. I know you're hurting, okay? Breakups suck, and I know what you had with Andrew was special. But you can't ruin your life because of it.”

And just like that, Nathaniel is gone, shoved back down into the hole in the ground where he belongs. Neil feels an endless exhaustion settle into his bones. All the angry energy that’s been keeping him in motion has evaporated like dew under the first rays of sun. He takes a step back from Kevin.

“He didn't break up with me,” he says quietly. Andrew’s words come up his throat like bile, the first time he’s let himself face them head-on since he heard them. “There was nothing to break.”

And it’s true, isn’t it? Really, that’s what this is about. That is the problem, what Neil has been refusing to acknowledge since last night: that this is no one’s fault but his own.

He’s an idiot, for feeling so deeply about this. This is what he gets for not listening, for reading into things when he shouldn’t have. Andrew must have told him This is nothing a million times, but Neil was self-centered enough to think he knew better. He was selfish enough to think that just because Andrew hasn’t said it in a while it’s stopped being true, that because Andrew’s been so generous with him it had to mean they felt the same. 

Andrew told him exactly what he wanted from him, and Neil, like an asshole, projected his own wants onto him, thought he’d get to have a future and a relationship that Andrew had never offered. He promised Andrew he would never ask for more than he was given, and then he went and got his feelings hurt when Andrew told him that what he was willing to give has changed. It’s all on Neil.

“And don't give Andrew shit about this,” he warns, an edge back in his voice. He doesn’t know whether Andrew’s talked to Kevin about this or if Kevin’s just drawn his own conclusions but, just in case, “I mean it, Kevin. He did nothing wrong.”

Kevin opens his mouth, closes it. He finally sighs, resigned, and nods.

Neither Neil nor Matt have classes that morning, so when they get back to Fox Tower, he bypasses his door and invites himself to Matt’s room. To his credit, Matt pretends there is nothing unusual about it, just lets Neil in ahead of him and asks him what he wants to do. Neil doesn’t want to do anything, so they end up watching that stupid comedy Matt insists will grow on him until Neil drifts off on the couch.

He startles awake when Nicky and Aaron get in a few hours later.

“Hey, Neil,” Nicky smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “All right?”

Neil swallows, looks away. Nods. He doesn’t know what his relationship with Nicky and Aaron will look like, now. He thinks —hopes— nothing has to change, but he can’t help the trickle of anxiety at the thought of them pulling away from him now that Andrew has.

Aaron drops into a beanbag chair and looks at him, something sharp and searching in his eyes that makes Neil want to squirm under the scrutiny. “Do you live here now or something?” he asks after a moment of silence.

Neil is about to say no but falters. Last night, Andrew made it sound like he didn’t mind Neil still being around, said nothing about wanting back the keys to the Maserati and the Columbia house and didn’t imply he wanted Neil out of their room, but… What if he just hasn’t said all that yet?

“...No,” he finally says, a beat too late.

Aaron frowns harder at him, exchanges a quick look with Nicky, and goes back to frowning at Neil.

Neil is saved from whatever Aaron is about to say by a quick tap at the door before Dan pokes her head in. Her smile drops when she sees them all sitting together in charged silence, Nicky still hovering awkwardly by the couch. “Um… hey guys. Everything okay?” No one answers. 

Matt stands up with a clap, forced cheer in his voice as he says, “Right, practice, let’s go!”

Neil takes it easy during practice, his arms and legs heavy and tired. He finds it a bit less difficult to keep the grief at bay than he did that morning, since Andrew is absent, meeting Betsy Dobson for his appointment. Neil feels Aaron’s probing eyes on him all through practice and tries not to feel like he’s about to break at the seams.

The girls take him and Matt into their dorm room after practice. “It’s Friday,” Allison says by way of explanation, and hands him a cold beer he sips slowly. Renee plays soft music from her phone, Dan unearths a few bags of chips, and they all chat idly, including Neil in their conversations even when he stays quiet for long stretches of time.

“Are you okay, Neil?” Renee asks him softly when he’s been staring unseeingly at his beer for too long.

Neil wants to say he’s fine, but the words get stuck in his throat. He swallows roughly, breathes. Everyone is looking at him.

“Is there anything we can do?” Dan asks quietly.

Neil shakes his head, but then something occurs to him. There is something that’s been gnawing at him, but he’s not sure how to say it. 

The thing is, his friends are not just his. He’s pretty sure Andrew would deny it to death, but he knows he and the upperclassmen are closer now, knows Andrew likes the Foxes better than he likes anyone else, has seen the way Andrew’s comfort zone has expanded to include them. He doesn’t want this not-breakup to divide them again. He doesn’t want Andrew to lose these people just because they think they need to take Neil’s side. “Just…” his voice comes out rough, so he clears his throat. “Don’t be mad at him, okay?”

Allison frowns. “Why do we need to be mad at Andrew? What has he done?”

Neil shakes his head. “No, exactly, nothing, so don’t be mad at him.”

Renee squeezes his hand and smiles softly at him, a little sadly. They both know the request isn’t directed at her.

“...Okay,” says Dan at last. “We won’t.”

Matt nods, a little uncertainly. “Okay. You sure you don’t want to talk about it? We promise we won’t meddle if you don’t want us to.”

Neil shakes his head. There is nothing to tell. There was no breakup, not really, and “Andrew doesn’t want to sleep with me anymore. (Or kiss me. Or hold my hand. Or be alone with me. Or anything, apparently)” is not something he wants to share with them.

He goes up to the roof that night, checking to make sure Andrew is not there before he lets the door close behind him. He looks out at the shadowed campus, at the few bright stars that shine in the light-polluted sky, and lets himself cry.

Neil learned as a kid that crying is useless. It angered his father, led to pain. Later, on the run, it angered his mother. Led to pain. He usually only cries when his body is out of his control, like when Riko and Lola tortured him, or when he has a really bad panic attack.

Tonight, Neil lets the tears fall, lets himself acknowledge what he’s lost, even if there wasn’t a label on it. He may still see Andrew every day, at least until he graduates, but it won’t be the same. He allows himself to miss Andrew, to feel the gaping hole in his chest at the fact that he’ll have to continue to miss him for the rest of his life. He may have other people in his life, may have more sources of love than he’d ever thought possible, but he loved (loves) Andrew differently, and he lets it hurt.

The time for night practice comes and goes, and Neil stays on the roof, curled up on himself, eyes on the stars. 

He is sluggish when he gets into his room, his limbs heavy, his head stuffy, his chest empty like someone’s scooped out everything inside it and forgot to put it back.

Kevin stops his angry pacing and turns to face him with a scowl. Neil lets him look at him and feels nothing. Kevin takes him in, drags a hand tiredly down his face and sighs, deep and worn out. “Jesus,” he mumbles. “I wish I was still drinking.”

Neil says nothing to that, because it is simply not true. It took Kevin a lot of time and effort to stop leaning on alcohol like an emotional crutch, and he would never go back to it, to the desperate chugging of vodka, the nights of puking and lying on the ground, helpless and hopeless, until someone helped him up. It was one of the first changes he decided to make as “queen of Exy”, and he tackled it like everything else: with unyielding stubbornness and single-minded determination. Neil being a mess won't make him relapse.

When Neil just stands there, Kevin sighs again. “Go to sleep, Neil.”

Andrew is asleep in the bedroom. Neil looks at the outline of his body in the dark and lets sleep drag him down. He dreams of sitting in the passenger seat of a car in the dead of night, the radio off, the hum of the pavement underneath, an endless road ahead, moving and moving forward and knowing there is no destination, only this, only the road and the night and the quiet, looking out the window because he knows there is no one in the driver’s seat and he doesn’t want to see it.

When he wakes up on Saturday, tired and upset, Andrew’s bed is empty. Neil stands there for a moment, looking at the rumpled sheets and feeling a dull ache in the bottom of his stomach.

He walks into the kitchen, track clothes on, and freezes. Andrew is standing at the kitchen counter, drying his hands on a dish towel. He’s there, and Neil’s lungs do that thing where they expand whenever he sees Andrew, everything in him relaxing when he walks into a room and his eyes find him, his person, his center, his home. 

Neil lets his eyes rove over him, lets the sight of him take the edge off the unabating hunger of missing him. Andrew looks well-rested for the first time in a while, and Neil is at once glad and hurt by it. The ache of wanting Andrew to want him threatens to tear him apart, so he forces his expression into blank politeness and says, “Hi,” feeling like Andrew can probably see in his face how pathetic he is.

He has no idea how far Andrew’s disinterest in him stretches, whether Neil is still part of his world, in whatever manner that may be, or not even a blip on his radar anymore. The tension in him loosens a little when Andrew answers, “Hi.”

Neil breathes, stands there for a minute. He tries to absorb into his very being the sight of Andrew’s bedhead, the traces of sleep in his eyes, his soft flannel pajamas. He will probably stop feeling like an open wound, eventually, will be able to look at Andrew and not feel like he’s dying, but that time is not now. 

He makes himself take a step back and points to the door, says, “I’m going—” He cuts himself off with a grimace, because Andrew said Do whatever you want. I'm not your keeper, and Neil can’t hear it again. “Never mind,” he blurts out, and rushes out the front door.

The dorm room is empty when he comes back from his run, and he’s not sure whether seeing or not seeing Andrew is worse. He showers and gets changed, then sits on the couch and wonders what to do. 

He knows Matt and Dan are out on a date, and that means Allison and Renee are probably enjoying their empty room, so he can’t hang out with any of them. He feels a bit embarrassed now about the state Kevin saw him in last night, so doesn’t really want to text him to see if he can join him wherever he is. Nicky is rarely in on weekends, and Aaron is most likely with Katelyn. He doesn’t know where Andrew is. 

Neil has never felt so lonely since joining the Foxes.

When he gets too restless sitting in silence with his own thoughts, he picks up his keys and leaves the room again.

It’s strange, being at the Foxhole Court alone. It makes Neil feel flimsy, unmoored, like he’s slipping through a gap in reality and into a world where he truly is nothing and no one, unseen and unmissed. His footsteps are loud in the empty hallways, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine. He feels like a ghost haunting the places he used to love when he was alive.

The illusion is shattered when he hears Wymack grumbling to himself in his office down the hall. Something dislodges inside his chest, and the deep breath he takes rattles in his lungs.

Wymack jumps when he sees him standing in the doorway. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me. A little warning, next time?”

Neil smiles, tight-lipped. “Sorry, Coach.”

Wymack looks over Neil’s shoulder, likely expecting Andrew or Kevin to be there with him.

“Just me,” Neil says, and tries not to sound like a shard of glass is stuck in his lungs about it.

Wymack considers him for a moment, his eyes narrowed and a small frown between his eyebrows. For a moment, he looks so much like Kevin that Neil almost laughs. “Sit down,” he says, shifting a pile of folders to the side so he has a clear view of Neil when he sits in front of him. “What’s going on?”

Neil shrugs, looks at the folders, looks down at his hands.

“Neil.” He looks up at Wymack. “I’ve been trying to stay out of it because I know you and Andrew like to handle your own shit, but you’re clearly not fine. So I’ll ask again: what’s going on?”

Neil looks away again. He clutches the sides of his chair until his knuckles turn white and stares at the scars in stark relief on the stretched skin. Finally, he breathes out, “Bad day.”

Wymack nods, concerned frown still in place, and stays silent for a long moment. Then he clears his throat and says brusquely, “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here, I need someone to watch these tapes for me and take notes, so get to work.”

Neil nods. He knows Wymack is doing this for his benefit, but feeling useful does help. He hands Neil a few game tapes and relocates with him to the lounge. 

Neil watches game after game, taking down notes, and Wymack sits at the other end of the couch and works silently. It’s strongly reminiscent of the time they spent alone after he got back from Evermore, broken physically and mentally. Back then, Wymack held him together with simple chores and undemanding company, and he does the same now, letting Neil lose himself to the task at hand and ordering takeout for them when Neil’s stomach growls. The easy, focused work, as well as the obvious care in the gesture behind it, soothes the ache in Neil’s chest.

When he’s done with the tapes and his fingers are stiff from holding the pen, he figures it’s time to get out of Wymack’s hair.

“Neil,” says Wymack when he gets up and stretches his arms above his head. Neil turns to look at him. Wymack hesitates for a moment, then sighs. “Listen, kid. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Andrew, or when you’ll go back to your normal, irritating selves, but… I think you should talk to someone.” His eyes are kind on Neil, his expression open and serious. “Not just about this, I mean. I know you and Andrew have this telepathic communication or whatever, and I know he’s helped you a lot after… everything that’s happened, but I think talking to a professional could be good for you. It doesn’t have to be Betsy if you don’t like her, but someone.” Neil shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact. “I could ask Betsy or Abby for recommendations, if you want, someone else who works at Reddin, maybe.”

Neil shrugs. The thought of opening up to a stranger makes him want to lash out defensively, but he knows Wymack is right. He’s been thinking about it for a while, actually, maybe even since he saw Betsy patch Andrew up after he was made to give a detailed account of his assault at Aaron’s trial. He’s kept putting it off, thinking that as long as he has Andrew to hold him up he’ll be okay, but… he doesn’t really have Andrew to hold him up anymore, does he. It was probably an unfair burden to put on his shoulders, anyway. He knows he couldn’t have been Andrew’s sole source of help, and it was a lot to ask of him, to be that for Neil.

“Okay,” Wymack says. “I’ll pass along the information as soon as I have it.”

Neil nods, feeling awkward. “Thanks.”

Wymack’s face softens a fraction. “Any time, kid, you know that.” He clears his throat and dons his gruff persona back on. “Now, you sure you gotta go? ‘Cause I have like five more of those for you to watch if you want to stay.”

Neil smiles, small but genuine. “I think I’m good, thanks. See you on Monday, Coach.”

Wymack nods and waves him away. “Fine. Get out of here, then, I’m very busy, in case you haven’t noticed. Wrangling a team of problematic assholes is a full-time job.”

Neil grins and makes his way out of the court.

It’s still early in the afternoon, and the thought of going back to the dorms only to find himself alone again makes Neil take his time walking there. He is a couple of blocks away when his phone rings. It startles him out of his thoughts, and he pulls it out to see Renee’s name on the screen.

“Um… hello?” He is pretty sure they’ve never talked on the phone before.

“Hi, Neil. Nicky and I are going to the mall, would you like to come with us? We can have some coffee after shopping.”

Neil doesn’t know what to say for a moment. The Foxes may not be divided into two groups anymore, but there are still some combinations that are more unlikely than others. Neil, Nicky and Renee is one of them. It’s not like he hasn’t had one-on-one conversations with them, but it feels strange to go out with just the two of them without expecting Allison, Andrew, or at least Aaron to join them. 

He thinks of being alone in his dorm room again. “Okay,” he says.

“Great! We’re meeting in the foyer in five, does that work for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, see you soon, Neil.”

It’s Saturday afternoon, so the mall is crowded, families, couples, and groups of friends shopping and walking around. Neil is dreading the press of bodies against him when they go into the more popular stores, but Renee and Nicky drift toward the more quiet ones, casually browsing through random products and chatting idly. When Nicky redirects them from a clothing store when Neil starts to look overwhelmed, he begins to suspect this impromptu outing may be less about shopping and more about him. 

The thought of Nicky and Renee talking and deciding to take him out for a bit of fresh air makes affection bloom in his chest. He wonders what Andrew’s told them, whether this is them showing Neil they still want to be his friends even if he’s not with Andrew anymore. It’s nice from Nicky, but not surprising. After all, he was one of the first to try and make Neil feel like he belonged with the Foxes, even when Andrew thought Neil was a mole. It’s more striking from Renee. She’s always been kind to him, and he may have gotten over his distrust of her, but she’s always been Andrew’s in a way she’s not Neil’s.

After a while of walking aimlessly and avoiding the worst of the crowds, they buy coffee and pastries and find a table in the food court.

“So, Neil,” Nicky starts, his smile cautious but kind. “How are you?” Neil’s face must do something, because Nicky immediately adds, “You don’t have to tell us what happened if you don’t want to, I’m not, like, trying to get the hot goss or anything, just… are you okay?”

Neil looks away from the open concern on his face, takes a sip of his coffee, shrugs. “I’m fine,” he says, then thinks better of it. “Well… just,” he shrugs again, a little helplessly, “you know,” he finishes lamely. 

Renee hums like that made any sense. Neil doesn’t want to cross Andrew’s boundaries, doesn’t want to reveal more than Andrew would want him to, but he needs to know, and he thinks they are the two people most likely to already know, so… “Has he told you?”

There is a silence loaded enough that Neil looks up from where he was fiddling with his cup. Renee’s expression is serene as always, but her eyes are intense on him. Nicky looks pained.

“Andrew hasn’t talked to me about what’s been happening with you, Neil, if that’s what you’re referring to,” she says gently.

Neil turns to Nicky.

“Eh… not really? I mean, you know Andrew, he hasn’t—, well, not directly, but…” Nicky grimaces and then pauses. “You guys… broke up, right?” he asks quietly, tentatively.

Neil breathes in sharply, looking away again. He peels the label off his cup. He tries to keep his face impassive as he says, “We weren’t dating.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

When he dares look up again, his friends’ faces are sympathetic. Neil feels worthless and pitiful.

“I’m sorry,” says Renee. She reaches out slowly, giving him time to pull away, and then squeezes his arm gently.

Nicky looks crestfallen. “Shit. I’m sorry, Neil.”

Neil fidgets under their commiseration. He wants to ask them if Andrew’s okay, if the end of their… thing… means anything at all to him, but that really does feel like crossing a boundary, so he doesn't. He has no right to know what Andrew’s thinking or feeling anymore. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

He braces for the Why? or What happened?, and is infinitely grateful when it doesn’t come. He thinks if he had to say He doesn’t want me anymore he might start crying in the middle of the food court.

The mood remains subdued as they leave the table and throw away their trash. It slowly brightens on their way back to Fox Tower, as Nicky and Renee argue amicably about how each Fox would do on The Amazing Race and then get Neil to rank the songs in The Sound of Music, which they watched on movie night a few weeks earlier, after Nicky realized with horror that Neil had never seen it.

Renee gives each of them a quick hug goodbye in the corridor before going into her room, but Nicky hesitates.

“Listen, Neil. So… I know this sucks, okay? And you know you’re our friend and you can come over whenever you want, to talk or play games or… yeah, but I just wanted to say that…” Neil finally meets his eyes, all warm chocolate that make Neil feel so terribly seen. “Whatever happened between you and Andrew, I know you’re special to him, and when he lets someone in, it’s forever, it doesn’t really… go away, so… I hope you two can find a way to still be there for each other. That kind of connection is special, you know? I mean, of course you know, duh, I just mean that… I hope you don’t lose it. Neither of you. Because I love you guys, and I would hate—” He pauses, choked up, and clears his throat. “I just want you guys to be happy.”

Neil presses his palms hard into the sides of his thighs to ground himself and nods. It takes him a minute to get the words out, and they come out garbled and raw. “Thanks, Nicky.”

Nicky gives him a small smile, his eyes still sad and caring. He pats Neil on the shoulder and ruffles his hair. “Okay. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Neil nods.

Kevin is on the couch when Neil gets into their dorm room, scowling at something on his computer. His expression clears when he sees Neil. “Good news,” he says. “Andrew will be back at night practice starting Monday.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Oh. Okay.”

So maybe Nicky was right. Maybe he can still be something for Andrew. Like a friend. It’s strange to think about, because they were never really friends to begin with. Neil’s feelings slowly evolved from his initial dislike of Andrew to a desperate trust born out of necessity, and by the time he realized he wanted Andrew, he was already in deep. Add to it the fact that Andrew was medicated for most of it, the Thanksgiving incident, the Nest, and… well, there was too much going on to consider them something as simple as friends. It feels like in the middle of all that mess, they were always hurtling toward more, going too fast to make a pit stop at friendship. And Andrew said he’d always wanted him, from the beginning, so. Never really friends.

They can be, now, though. They can find out what they might have looked like if Andrew had never said “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you” over the pounding music of Eden’s, if Neil had never sought him out for a second kiss in his living room. Maybe Neil can still have Andrew, in some way, however small. He can learn to be okay with that. He can make do. 

Kevin tells him Andrew is out with Aaron, so they have a quiet dinner on the couch with an Exy game on. It’s still early when Kevin starts to nod off and goes to bed, and Neil finds himself alone again, that empty void creeping into his chest. The quiet of the dorm is eerie, so he goes up to the roof, where he can at least hear the distant hum of cars.

It’s weird, to think that lonely used to be his default state. Even before he and Mary ran away, Neil was a lonely child. It’s hard to make friends when most kids your age don’t know how to wield knives, don’t know how it feels to cut small animals open, don’t know how it feels to be cut open. He never knew what to talk about with his classmates and teammates who had never seen someone get killed, had never seen their father do the killing. It’s hard not to be an outcast when you can’t invite anyone over to your slaughterhouse of a home, when you have to be very careful about never saying anything too revealing, never saying anything that might get you or them hurt.

On the run, he wore loneliness like a second skin. All interactions were dangerous, so they kept them at a minimum. The few times Neil made small, rebellious attempts at socializing, his mom made sure the memory of the pain would dissuade him from further attempts.

When Mary died, loneliness carved itself into Neil’s marrow, the kind of indelible brand that comes from knowing there is not a single soul in the world who loves you. He drifted, his spirit broken except for whatever stubborn spark refused to let him lie down and die. His life stretched before him bleak and barren, an indeterminate amount of time he would spend unseen, unwanted and unloved, with no one to talk to, no home to return to at the end of the day and no better future to hope for. Neil would simply exist, miserable, until his father finally killed him.

He knows things are different now. He has a phone full of contacts, two doors he could go down and knock on to be met by friendly faces. He could go watch that really boring comedy with Matt, or let Allison paint his nails, or take Nicky up on his offer to hang out. But it’s not the same, because he doesn’t have Andrew anymore, doesn’t have the quiet companionship, the silent understanding that passes between them on bad days. 

Andrew is the only person with whom Neil can just exist at times where being anything, even himself, is too much. He doesn’t want to watch TV with his friends, or hear their conversations, or let them be nice to him. He wants Andrew to be sitting here by his side, in silence, the comforting smell of smoke in the air, taking the weight of being momentarily off Neil’s shoulders.

As the nothingness engulfs him, Neil finds himself crying again, silent tears rolling warm down his cheeks. He hugs his knees tighter into his chest, tries to remember he is Neil Josten, number ten, starting striker, Foxhole Court, and not Neil Josten, no one, grieving, Millport. It’s not a panic attack, but the sorrow cuts him deep enough that it leaves him breathless and shaking anyway. 

Breathe, Andrew would tell him if he were here. He tries, can’t. Breathe. Andrew would put a hand on the back of his neck, would squeeze gently to ground him. Neil places a shaky hand on his nape and pretends it’s as comforting as Andrew’s, that it’s not the wrong shape, that the fingers are not too cold. He lets his focus narrow down to the weight of it until he calms down.

The pain dulls back down into a manageable ache in the pit of his stomach. He stays there, breathing, looking out at the little pinpricks of light in the sky that seem dimmer tonight. He thinks of Monday, of Andrew being at night practice again. Andrew is not gone, he reminds himself. Tomorrow, Neil will learn to be his friend. Tomorrow, they’ll sit side by side during movie night, and share a bowl of popcorn, and this grief inside of Neil will fade until all he feels is the gratitude for everything Andrew’s given him and none of the pain of losing it.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps until Andrew is almost at his side. Neil startles, his heart beating fast as he stealthily brushes away a couple of stray tears and stands up, trying not to look like he’s just spent who-knows-how-long being miserable and pathetic. “Shit, sorry,” he says, his voice thankfully mostly steady. “I thought you were out tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Andrew says quietly. Just hearing the low rumble of his voice is a comfort. Neil wants to look at him, wants to know what he’s thinking, but he can’t quite make himself meet his eyes.

Neil nods and turns to leave, before stopping himself. He won’t sleep at all unless he asks, unless he knows for sure. “I'm sorry I've been all…” he says, with a little wave to encompass the mess that he is. "...weird, about this. I know you weren't…” in love with me. “I know this wasn't..." a relationship. 

Fuck, how is he supposed to say this? His hands clench into tight fists at his sides. "I'll get over it, I promise,” he forces out. “You don't need to avoid me. We can still..." He makes himself meet Andrew’s eyes at last. The warm hazel is almost brown in the shadows of the roof, and there is a nearly imperceptible pinch between his eyebrows and an unhappy turn to his mouth that makes Neil ache. "...be friends." 

Neil inhales deeply, braces himself. Andrew might say no. Andrew might not want anything to do with him at all anymore. Andrew might ask for his keys back, might ask Neil to get out of his sight, and Neil will do it. It might break him, but he’ll do it.

Andrew says nothing, just looks at him with that same almost-frown, but there is no rejection in his face, it's not a no. It’s not an enthusiastic acceptance of Neil’s friendship, but it’s not a rejection. Neil breathes out, relieved. "Okay,” he says. “I'll see you tomorrow?"

Andrew nods, and Neil wants to smile at him, wants to break down, wants to ask him to hold him. He gives Andrew one last look and leaves.

In the morning, he gets a text from Abby: Good morning, Neil! Betsy and I have found a therapist at Reddin who we think might be a good fit for you, here is her contact information. Betsy has let her know someone from the Exy team might get in touch with her, so feel free to schedule an appointment whenever you want.

He scans the unfamiliar name, email, and phone number, and a sudden wave of panic makes him regret having ever agreed to this. He takes a deep breath, and thinks that’s probably a sign he needs to see a therapist, actually. 

He’s not sure what the protocol is for these things, whether it’s okay to text her on a Sunday morning, but figures if this woman is going to deal with him she should get used to his lack of social skills. He rips off the bandaid and quickly texts her asking for an appointment. 

He doesn’t have more than a few minutes to be anxious about it, because before he’s even done changing into his running clothes, he gets a reply asking if Tuesday at five works for him. He answers in the affirmative, his heart rabbiting in his chest, and immediately goes on his run so he can stop thinking about it until Tuesday.

Kevin is out when he comes back, but Andrew is still sleeping in the bedroom. Neil ignores the tug in his chest when he sees him and goes shower. 

He’s making coffee when he gets another message from Abby: Hello again, Neil. I forgot to say, I’m making lasagna for lunch, come over! It would be nice to have you guys here again :).

He stares at the message for a long time before putting his phone away without replying. Would he make things awkward by going if Andrew’s going to be there? He thought he’d start their friendship off slowly, in group settings, but Nicky and Aaron are doing their own thing today, so it would just be Kevin, Andrew, and Neil. What if Andrew doesn’t mind Neil showing up but doesn’t want to drive him? He’ll have to bother Matt again, or maybe run there, but then he’ll be all sweaty and gross for lunch… What if Andrew doesn’t want him there at all? What if he’s willing to put up with Neil at practice and in the dorms but doesn’t want to see him when it’s not necessary? What if—

He lifts his head from where he was staring unseeingly into his mug when Andrew walks into the room. He looks soft and bleary-eyed, and Neil does his best to act normal. “Hi,” he says. Andrew nods a hello and moves to make himself a cup of coffee. Neil looks at him, at his fine hair, the muscles of his back moving under his white sleep shirt, the steady movements of his hands. Normal. He can be so normal about this.

“Are you going to Abby’s?” he asks, trying and probably failing to sound nonchalant.

Andrew turns to look at him, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah,” he says. Neil fidgets with his mug. Should he ask…? “We leave in half an hour.”

We. We as in Kevin and I or as in the three of us? “Okay,” he says, and keeps fidgeting.

Andrew sighs long-sufferingly. “Be ready by then, I won’t wait.”

Neil looks up in surprise. A weight melts off his shoulders, and he feels his lips twitch into a small smile. “Oh. Okay, I will.”

They stand around in not-totally-uncomfortable silence until Kevin comes back, and then they get ready and leave the dorm.

When they reach the Maserati, Neil and Kevin pause. What is the seating arrangement now? Is the passenger seat still his or are they back to Kevin riding shotgun by default? Andrew ignores them both and gets into the car. Neil exchanges a look with Kevin, who shrugs and opens the back door. Okay. He supposes Andrew would tell him if he didn’t want him next to him, anyway. He gets into the passenger seat, tense, bracing for rejection. It doesn’t come. Andrew starts the car and leaves the parking lot, and Neil lets himself relax in his seat.

Abby welcomes them with her usual warm smile, pleased to see Neil decided to come, and Wymack nods approvingly at him. They fall easily into the hustle and bustle of getting the table set and the food out of the kitchen, and Neil lets the familiar comforting smell of the house, the flow of the five of them moving around each other like it’s second nature, and Abby’s chiding when Wymack tries to taste-test the lasagna remind him he belongs.

He hesitates for only a second by the chair next to Andrew’s, but he covers it up quickly and pretends nothing has changed since they were last here, eating side by side. Whatever wisps of discomfort he was worried he or Andrew might feel dissipates immediately when Kevin brings up the Badgers’ latest match and Wymack enthusiastically jumps into analyzing their goals. Abby tries to herd them into different topics, but eventually just lets them and Neil go back to talking Exy with resigned fondness. Andrew is quiet, but it’s a comfortable, settled silence, nothing uneasy about it, and he even rolls his eyes dramatically when Kevin begins listing off his new ideas for Andrew to implement on the court.

After lunch, Kevin washes the dishes and Neil dries them off and puts them away. They have their usual silent competition in which Kevin tries to wash each dish before Neil is done drying the previous one and Neil pretends to be annoyed when he’s done first and has to wait two seconds for Kevin to hand over the next one. Abby watches them from her perch at the kitchen island, lazily swirling the red wine in her glass as she chats with them. 

When they’re done, Kevin goes out to the living room and plops down on the couch, turning on the TV and immediately putting on an Exy channel. Wymack and Andrew disappeared somewhere after lunch and haven’t come back. Neil lingers in the kitchen, slowly ambling over to Abby, trying to be casual about it. Abby smiles at him when he finally sits down next to her, an affectionate twist of her lips that reaches the brown warmth of her eyes and deepens the laugh lines around the corners of her mouth.

“How are you, Neil?” she asks him.

Neil spares a quick look for Kevin, making sure he’s engrossed in the TV and won’t overhear them. “I made an appointment. With the woman. The… therapist.” 

He’s not sure why he feels like he’s confessing to something shameful. He’s seen how helpful therapy is, how casually Andrew, Allison and Renee talk about seeing a therapist. He knows, logically, that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, that talking to a professional about your problems doesn’t make you weak. Even Kevin, so terrified of letting anyone poke around in his deep, oozing wounds, started seeing one when he decided to get sober, and still sees him weekly. 

It’s probably the vulnerability that makes Neil want to scratch under his skin, the remnants of his mother stuck in him like splinters, insisting that trust is a gun aimed at his own head, that telling the truth is reaching out and pulling the trigger himself. It’s likely why admitting he’s going to let a stranger truly know him makes his heart race and his skin smart with the phantom redness of palm-shaped blows.

Abby’s smile grows, brightens into something fiercer. Neil can’t quite place it until she says, “Oh, Neil, I’m so proud of you.” Pride. 

Neil squirms a little, at once wanting to shy away from the praise and turn to it like a flower seeking sunlight. He’s not sure anyone has ever told him they’re proud of something he’s done outside of an Exy court. “Thanks,” he says, self-conscious. Abby’s smile stays in place.

Right on cue, Kevin calls out from the living room: “Neil, match highlights!”

Abby laughs softly and gestures Neil away. He flashes a sheepish smile back at her before he goes.

The drive back to Fox Tower is the most at ease Neil has felt around Andrew all week. Andrew seems relaxed, too. Whatever he and Wymack talked about has melted the tension from his shoulders, and Neil sees his eyes crinkle almost imperceptibly in that way that means he’s content. Neil tucks his own smile into his sleeve and makes his case for Abby’s meals being better than her desserts over Kevin’s loud protests.

In their dorm room, they settle on the couch to watch a documentary about the Ottoman empire. It’s a routine they fell into after Riko’s death, when Kevin’s anxiety was at an all-time high and being alone made him have panic attacks. Watching TV on the couch was a way for them to be together outside the court without Neil and Andrew needing to talk if they were having a bad day, and history documentaries were the one thing Kevin and Andrew could agree on watching. 

Neil sits between them and thinks he can live with this. He can ride in Andrew’s car, and hang out with him, and watch TV next to him. It’s already so much, the way Andrew has let him into his private circle and trusted Neil to be this close. Being friends with Andrew is an honor he’s not sure he’s worthy of, it would be ridiculous to be dissatisfied with it. 

Andrew catches him staring more than once, but doesn’t call him out on it. Neil grimaces in apology and looks away, but his eyes keep getting drawn to him, to the glittering flutter of his eyelashes in the glow of the TV, to his strong jaw and relaxed shoulders, the swirling shades of his hazel eyes. He is the most beautiful thing Neil has ever seen. Maybe —Neil tells himself unconvincingly— he will become immune to it, eventually, now that they’re friends.

When Renee texts Andrew saying they’re all set for movie night, they walk the ten feet over to the girls’ room. Matt bounds over from the couch and bear-hugs Neil. Once Andrew has followed Renee into the kitchen, he asks, quietly, “You alright? With Andrew?”

Neil smiles, close-lipped, and nods decisively. 

Matt sighs with relief. “Oh, thank god. You guys breaking up would be like me and Dan breaking up, you know? Like, you’re soulmates, it would suck.”

The smile sours into a grimace on Neil’s face. “Uh. It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

Matt blinks at him, shocked. “Shit, what? You guys…?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Neil quickly side-steps him and goes over to the couch. He sits in his usual spot and resolutely ignores Matt’s furious whispering with Dan. He didn’t particularly want to tell them, but it’s best if they don’t make any teasing comments when he and Andrew sit together on the couch. He doesn’t want to know how Andrew would react, and it would only make him feel more like shit.

He feels Allison’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head as Renee and Andrew come out with bowls of popcorn, but he doesn’t acknowledge her, and she thankfully holds her tongue (for now). Okay. Now everyone knows, and Neil didn’t have to give an awkward speech about it. It feels more final, now that they know. That’s probably a good thing, that he can’t pretend nothing’s changed.

The movie is a very dramatic romance Matt picked out and is now probably regretting. The irony of the timing would be funny if the main couple confessing their love for each other didn’t send a stab of hurt through Neil’s chest. He spends the entire hour and a half hyperaware of Andrew next to him, his skin tingling where Andrew’s arm is close enough he can feel its warmth but still frustratingly not touching him.

He tries to keep his expression neutral in case anyone is looking at him, but feels like he’s probably breathing too consciously or moving too much or staying too still, giving himself away one way or another. They should probably stick to documentaries for now, until Neil is used to this being friends thing.

When the movie is finally done, Neil sighs in relief. Fingers tug on his sleeve, and Neil’s eyes fly to Andrew and stick there, magnetized.

“Roof?” Andrew asks quietly. Neil’s treacherous heart skips a beat, but he smothers the spark of hope in his chest. Andrew’s eyes are intent but his expression is unreadable. He is most likely trying to sketch what their friendship might look like, just like Neil, and this is an attempt to do that. He is asking Neil to the roof, nothing else. They’ll smoke, maybe talk. They are following the theme of the day, finding their footing in this new friendship terrain. 

He nods.

When they get up to leave, he makes eye contact with Allison over Andrew’s shoulder, and she grins sharply at him. Matt leans into her to be in Neil’s line of sight and gives him a double thumbs-up. Neil turns around, ignoring them. That's not what this is. Andrew hasn't changed his mind since Thursday, he doesn't want Neil back. They are not sneaking away like they used to. They are sneaking away, but… as friends. Yeah. 

Sitting next to Andrew on the roof again washes away the bad taste of being here alone the past couple of nights. Neil is so lucky he gets to have this still. In the easy silence between them he lets the comfort of Andrew’s presence, of Andrew seeking Neil’s company, fill him to the brim. Maybe Andrew doesn’t want him in the same way anymore, but he still wants Neil by his side. That can be enough. That is enough, more than enough. He lets the feeling settle into his bones, the gratitude he feels pouring out of him compounding to the immense gratitude he already feels toward Andrew.

He’s sure this is all they’re here for, the quiet and the company and the stars, when Andrew speaks up. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low but clear.

Neil’s whole body tenses at once. His eyes snap to Andrew’s, and he’s suddenly furious with himself. He’s truly an asshole. Andrew has noticed all his discomfort and crying and moping about, because of course he has, he’s the most observant person Neil knows, and now he feels the need to apologize. Neil has made him feel guilty for being honest with him, like the worst kind of asshole. “Don’t,” he says.

“Neil—”

“No,” he interrupts. “I don’t want you to apologize.” He can’t believe this. He spent so long trying to get Andrew to believe him when he said he only wanted as much as Andrew felt like giving and then he went and fucked it all up by making him feel bad for hurting Neil’s feelings with his honesty. He remembers Andrew’s unhappy little frown when he caught Neil crying, thinks about Andrew beating himself up about it. He fucking hates himself. 

He needs to set this right. “You did nothing wrong, Andrew,” he continues, "and I'm sorry I've made you feel like you have. You—" he looks out at the dark campus. "You were always very clear about what this was, and you didn't break any promises." He looks back at Andrew, willing him to believe him. "My feelings are not your responsibility," he says, hoping Andrew can tell he’s serious, hoping he hasn’t broken the trust between them irreparably. "I'm just glad you trusted me enough to do... that, with me, for as long as you wanted it.” 

He needs Andrew to understand how much he’s done for Neil, to know Neil is not like the others, won’t take and take more than he’s offered and resent him when he stops. “You have given me so much, Andrew. You gave me safety; you gave me the keys to your house and to your car; you took all my truths and the mess that I was and you let me stay and made me believe I could be... someone. A real person. Neil Josten.” 

His chest is tight with emotion. He breathes, thinks these are things he needed to tell him, anyway. Andrew needs to know Neil could live to be a hundred and never make up for everything Andrew’s done for him. His life is the least of the things Neil owes him. “You... you let me touch you, Andrew. I know how much trust that took. No one had ever trusted me like that before. Everything I have now, this life, I have it because of you. You don't... owe me anything. 

“And I'm glad you're okay with me still being around, but if you weren't, that'd be okay, too.” He speaks the words staring deeply into Andrew’s eyes, willing him to see the truth in them. It’s an offer, a promise to back off if that’s what Andrew wants, and he means it. “I could switch rooms back with Aaron, I could ride with Matt to practice, I would stop going to Eden's... it'd be fine. I'd make it work. 

“I never wanted you to feel obligated to do anything with me, and I don't want you to think I blame you for telling me that what you want has changed. I would never want anything from you that is not freely given, Andrew. So if you say we're done, we're done. No apologies needed.”

He breathes heavily, praying Andrew believes him, praying he hasn’t hurt the most important person in his life by being a pathetic self-involved mess. Andrew just looks at him, surprise and something more complicated shining in his eyes. After a long silence, he clears his throat and says, voice rough, “I meant, I'm sorry for lying to you.”

Neil tilts his head in confusion. “About what?”

“I'm not bored of you, Neil.” Neil stills. The only things he’s aware of are his heartbeat, strong and hopeful in his chest, his lungs, taking in deep breaths, and Andrew’s eyes, honest and steady on his. “I never could be. I—” While Andrew frowns, searching for the right words, Neil thinks This is happening. Is this happening? What is happening?  “You were right,” Andrew continues. “About me being off since the party.”

Oh. He makes a questioning sound, willing Andrew to continue but not wanting to interrupt him. Andrew breathes deeply and looks away, but Neil’s eyes stay trained on him.

“I overheard two Vixens talking about us. About how I was…” A beat of silence. “...emotionally abusing you.”

The concept is so baffling that Neil feels a shocked laugh die in his throat under the sudden wave of fiery anger that consumes him. “What the fuck?! That's bullshit!” His heartbeat is painful now, his hands shaking with a rush of adrenaline. The image of Andrew, tense and still on the roof the night of the party, flashes through his mind. He is going to destroy whoever made him feel like that. He’ll dust off every single one of Nathaniel’s cruel little tricks and make sure they regret it. “Who was it? Tell me. I'll fucking kill them.” 

“It's fine, Neil,” Andrew waves him off.

Fuck that. “It's not fucking fine,” he snaps. He hates it, that Andrew is always ready to defend his loved ones from any threat but brushes off the offenses committed against him like they don’t matter. They matter, because Andrew matters. If Andrew can’t care, Neil will care for him.

“Neil,” Andrew says quietly, and that single word grounds Neil down. Right, he’s supposed to be listening. “I don't give a shit what they think or say about me.” Good, he shouldn't. Most people are idiots and they don’t get Andrew at all. “The problem was... it made me spiral.” His voice is so quiet Neil strains to hear him. “It made me... think. About whether they were right.”

Neil feels the blood drain from his face as the horror of what’s really been going on dawns on him. “What?” His voice is thin and strange to his own ears. “Andrew—”

"I know." Andrew huffs a humorless laugh that pains Neil to hear. “But then I came up here and googled signs of emotional abuse and…” He shrugs and sighs, sounding deeply tired. “Sore subject, hair trigger. My mind did the rest of the catastrophizing for me.”

Neil can’t help his little hurt whine at hearing that. “Andrew…” he whispers. All that time that Neil spent feeling at times sorry for himself and frustrated with Andrew’s reticence, Andrew was spiraling, alone and probably hating himself. Andrew is the best thing in Neil’s life, and he was made to feel like the worst.

“And then it kept... piling up,” Andrew continues, something frantic and so unlike him tightening his voice. “I kept seeing signs of it being true, and my nightmares got worse, and…” He sucks in a breath. “So I pushed you away. So I wouldn't keep hurting you. Because the thought of hurting you—” His words cut off on a gasping breath that doesn’t reach his lungs.

“Andrew,” Neil says, trying to keep his voice even and reassuring. “Breathe with me.” When Andrew looks at him, Neil places a hand on his own chest and breathes deep, smooth breaths until Andrew matches them. 

After a few minutes of breathing together, Andrew says, “I talked to Bee on Friday. It's fine, Neil, I'm fine.” The tightness in Neil’s chest gives an inch at that. “I know that's not how we are. It was just... bad, for a while. In my head.” 

Neil gets that. He’s glad Andrew’s talked it out with Betsy, but knows the two of them will have to have a larger conversation about this, to make sure there are no remaining doubts in Andrew’s mind. With all they’ve been through, all their traumas, issues are going to come up in their relationship all the time, their minds tripping them up now and again, but hopefully this particular one can be put to rest for good.

Andrew looks him in the eye, intent. “I'm sorry I hurt you,” he says. Neil shakes his head, wants to say it doesn’t matter, but Andrew stops him. “No, I am. I broke up with you because I got scared.” Neil inhales sharply. Broke up. “And I'm sorry I was cruel about it. There was something to break, Neil.” Andrew’s eyes are bright and all-consuming in the dimness of the roof, holding Neil in place so that he can only look and listen. “This was never nothing. It's everything.” The words run over Neil like liquid gold, filling in the cracks of hurt and pain and doubt that have spread from his heart since Thursday like the art of kintsugi. With six words, Neil's world falls back in alignment with a truth he knew deep down for years but doubted for three days. Andrew wants him. Andrew's never stopped wanting him. This is “it” for them, for both of them. “It's still everything to me, if you want it.”

Something like a sob escapes Neil, but he’s not crying this time. There is an expansive happiness filling his chest like a balloon, making him feel light and a little insane. “It's always yes with you,” he says, and it’s as true as ever. As if there was ever any universe in which Neil Josten wouldn’t want Andrew Minyard. As if Neil wouldn’t have spent the rest of his life wanting Andrew, had they stayed broken up. 

Andrew glares at him (Don't 'always' me) but the effect is diminished by the softness with which he’s looking at Neil, the loving tilt of his lips. Neil laughs, happy and too loud for the time of night, the sound ripped out of him in the wake of his sadness being unrooted and promptly thrown away. His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yes, Andrew,” he says. “I want it.” His smile softens in sync with Andrew’s expression, and he says, surely sounding every bit as hopelessly (hopefully, actually. Lit up from within with hope. Brimming with it.) in love as he feels, “It's everything to me, too.”

It's early morning when they finally get down from the roof, the first rays of sun chasing them inside. Neil doesn’t even care that he'll be tired all day, or that his friends will interrogate him the first chance they get, or that he now has two cheerleaders on his hit list. The only thing that matters is that Andrew’s hand stays in his the whole walk down the stairs, and that his smile refuses to leave his face.