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“I’m getting coffee, what do you want?” Neil asked him over the phone, his voice familiar and comforting.
“White mocha.”
“Got it,” he could hear the smile in his voice. “Andrew, I’ll be there soon.” With that, he hung up before Andrew could say anything in response, making him want to roll his eyes. Typical junkie.
Neil had finally graduated from Palmetto State and was in the process of moving into Andrew’s apartment, located in a nice neighborhood complete with gated entry and exit. It felt like he had been holding his breath, waiting an entire year for this. In the back of his mind, he’d been wondering how much would stay the same and how much would change.
After all, he and Neil had broken up just before Andrew had left, a mutual ending of a romantic and sexual relationship that hadn’t worked for either of them. They’d been in constant contact via texts and calls, but it wasn’t the same as being there. He’d even wondered if having more distance would be healthier, but neither of them had wanted that.
Andrew visited when he could, stealing away time with every holiday and break he could manage, but it wasn’t enough. Never more than two days, never alone for more than a few hours. Neil seemed the same as ever, able to understand him with just a glance, but it wasn’t like Andrew would know if he was determined to hide something. He’d just had to trust that he was being honest when he said he was alright.
For Andrew, it had been surreal, going from having people around to being alone again. He’d spent the first week expecting to hear Neil’s voice when he woke up, or the sound of Nicky calling Erik through the walls. To suddenly have silence instead was unnerving, and he woke up more than once over nightmares involving an abandoned duffle bag, blood on a key, a bus ride that took too long, a phone that never stopped ringing.
Kevin didn’t let him stay like that for long - he flew in with a scowl and angry words as he went back to nagging Andrew, and it was like he never left. It seemed they both still remembered that deal, now fulfilled, and all those empty pill bottles.
(He’d never admit it, but the distraction of having Kevin there - he was grateful.)
It seemed like Kevin was the only one in their life to truly understand where Neil and Andrew’s relationship had left them. The Foxes all eyed them expecting bitter words or apathy - only Kevin looked at them and saw the change for what it was: not an ending so much as an evolution.
“Their teamwork on the court is still the same; why should I care what Andrew or Neil do in their free time? Frankly, not having to walk in on them every time I enter my dorm room is an improvement.”
Ah, Kevin. He never changed. Just as obsessed with stickball as ever, and he still got so angry whenever Andrew started ‘throwing away his potential’.
It was still worth the headache just to tell him no.
He was left feeling equal parts eager and anxious for Neil’s return. It felt like when he was with Neil, that was the only time he could truly relax, sure that he could fall asleep now that they were both safe and still alive. But that was then - now, would it be the same? Would Neil look at him the same way? Just because they ended their relationship, did that mean that everything else had to change? It wasn’t like they were different people, or at least Andrew hoped so. (That was new too, hoping.)
He was afraid that too much would change, that their understanding and trust and whatever else was gone.
Neil was still so, so important to him, still part of his family and someone he wanted around. Next to that, a failed romance felt like nothing.
Andrew unclenched his fists and went through a couple of deep inhales and exhales, closing his eyes for a few seconds. This is why he preferred pushing any sort of feeling away - when he got attached, got interested, he inevitably gave too much away. No one had ever given back before.
No one had ever wanted him the way Neil had. And it wasn’t even about the sex, or at least not entirely - it was the way he never crossed a boundary once he knew it was there, how he never took Andrew’s answers for granted, how everything they did was mutual, equal. How Neil looked out for him just the same as Andrew tried to do for him. How they spent the holidays together with the rest of Andrew’s family, and Neil let himself relax, let himself be safe around them. It was a hand in his between classes, scars against scars.
(“How do I keep him?” He’d asked Bee, half desperate and half angry and doing everything not to show it.)
(“Well, to begin with, why not tell him? I’m sure Neil is feeling just as conflicted as you are over this,” she continued when she saw his look, “Even if it was a mutual choice to end your relationship. The both of you still need time to process and readjust to the new circumstances, but Andrew, so long as the two of you still want to be a part of each other’s life, you can.”
Bee leaned forward and smiled at him, the one that said she was proud. “As long as you both put in the effort, your new relationship can be just as strong as the first.”)
That had struck him somewhere - how Bee called this, whatever they were doing, as a relationship. How she put it on the same level as their former romantic one and didn’t even blink. It had been so shocking to him, the fact that she saw both sides of it and yet treated both of them the exact same. Andrew had never tried being in a romantic relationship before Neil; he had never wanted to, before him. Had never seen the point.
No, he had been used to hurried blowjobs in juvie, club backrooms and Roland and exploring his sexuality in a way he could control. There had never been someone like Neil before, and he knew there never would be again.
For all that it had ended, and had ended up not working out, Andrew couldn’t regret trying. That failed romance with Neil hadn’t been wrong or bad. It just hadn’t worked. It had been both of their first romantic relationships, and it was still important, still worth remembering, but it hadn’t lasted, and that was okay. They’d both learned; their time hadn’t been wasted. Andrew was glad it had happened.
Neil was still the best mistake he’d ever made.
A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he shook his head, blowing out a breath, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders. Around his feet, Sir perked her furry head up at the sound, trying to wind between his legs to investigate - he nudged her aside, ignoring her indignant meow, and decided fuck it.
He opened the door, and there he was, the man Andrew had wanted to see for so long, red-blond hair and ice blue eyes, scars and all, looking a little startled as he took his hand back from the door, almost dropping the tray of take out coffee he held in his other.
“Why are you knocking?” Andrew asked, supremely unimpressed.
“Because it’s polite?” Neil asked, eyeing him like he was the strange one. Infuriating.
“Get in already, idiot.”
And then there they were, standing face to face in their soon to be shared apartment, cataloging each other for any new changes or things to be concerned about. Andrew was sure he looked the same as always, but Neil looked good - he had gained weight, his eyes were bright, and he smiled when he caught Andrew’s eye.
“I’m home,” he said, and Andrew finally breathed.
“Took you long enough,” he countered, voice bored.
“I’ve had plenty of time to catch up with all of your games, you know,” Neil threatened, smile widening into a grin, and Andrew abruptly spun around and made for the kitchen, trying to rename that fond warmth in his heart into something less fucking sappy.
“No.”
Neil laughed. “Yes,” he said, right on his heels. And Andrew suddenly knew that they would be okay, that nothing much had changed after all, or at least nothing that was worth holding onto.
He really should have gotten rid of him when he had the chance, Andrew idly thought to himself as he watched Neil be an annoying nuisance. When Sir snuck up behind him and pawed at his ankle, Neil about jumped a foot in the air, nearly falling over with how quickly he turned to look at her.
Andrew’s lips turned up at the corners, and he struggled not to laugh.
He’d had no need to worry.
The two of them settled into living together naturally. Neil picked up the groceries, but Andrew cooked. They took turns washing dishes and doing laundry, and in the mornings when Andrew woke up, there would be coffee already waiting as he blearily fed the cat, kept warm in a thermos on the counter.
Neil always put just the right amount of milk and sugar in.
When he eventually stumbled back in from a run, Andrew would usually have to remind him to take his dirty shoes off if he wanted to go any further. And Andrew hated repeating himself, but that idiot still needed things spelled out sometimes.
They’d bicker, their words lacking any heat, and they’d have breakfast together before either heading to the court for practice or, depending on the day, be left to themselves.
They’d managed to get onto the same stickball team, despite Neil’s debut into the professional leagues and Andrew’s reputation for hating him - the press had had a field day after learning they were playing together, and the frenzy just got worse when they proved how well they still worked together.
Exy was still boring, but throwing a shot down the entire court without looking, knowing that Neil would be there to catch it? The way their eyes would meet, and it would be like it was them versus everyone else, like a private joke they were playing against both teams? Andrew didn’t hate it.
The games where they went against Kevin were always the best, in spite of how hard the bastard made them work. Getting to see that split second of surprise in his eyes before they won was always worth it. Andrew was petty enough to derive a great amount of satisfaction from if not winning over Kevin Day, then at least making him work for it.
His number of goals blocked had never been higher - not that he cared, or that it even mattered, but it made Neil light up, passionate and obnoxious in all of the worst ways.
It made Nicky call him directly after a game, even if he always let it go to voicemail. (It was rare he picked up right away, being much more concerned with showering and going home as soon as possible.)
Even the rest of the Foxes, in the accursed group chat they’d never disbanded, would force him to turn his phone on silent.
(He and Renee had their own group chat, just the two of them, and she inevitably expressed first her congratulations, and then her condolences - she knew him too well at this point to understand that he’d be suffering with both junkies not being able to shut up.
He always just responded with a middle finger emoji, and that would be about the extent of talk about exy he could tolerate.)
Thank fuck Aaron at least didn’t care.
They had bad days too, the both of them waking up sweating and breathless from nightmares, memories. One would stumble out of his room, and then the other would follow from his own - sometimes to the kitchen for hot chocolate, other times to the tiny balcony where Andrew itched for cigarettes he didn’t have and Neil tried to breathe in that second-hand smoke.
It was on one of these nights that Andrew brought it up. Cool air on hot skin, he looked out into the darkness and spoke, half mocking, “Are you still in love with me?”
He didn’t know why he asked, just that he suddenly had to know. No, he wanted to know.
Beside him, he felt Neil’s eyes on him.
“I don’t know,” he said, honest in the way that only Neil could be; certain and unapologetic, unashamed and awful. “How do I know what love is? Was I love in with you, or did I just love being with you?”
They breathed in the silence of that.
Andrew curled his hands into the ends of his sleeves and let the fabric brush over his knuckles. “And now?”
They looked at each other through their ghosts, and there was almost a smile in Neil’s voice. “I think I could have, with you. But only if you had wanted it.”
He scoffed. “What good has love ever given us?” The both of them were disillusioned, but Neil had nonetheless always had something bright to him, a hunger for life that had long been foreign to a man like Andrew.
He remembered those conversations that preceded the breakup, how they had honestly tried to fix something that wasn’t broken - Andrew just hadn’t realized it.
(He would have resented Neil for being so understanding if it wasn’t so comforting.)
He remembered being a child, wondering why anyone would ever want to get married. He smirked, now, at the thought.
“Fuck being in love,” Andrew said, and he felt free. He didn’t care about relationships, about labels or any of it. None of it mattered.
Neil laughed, and suddenly everything felt alright. They were safe and still here, still alive, and Andrew was allowed to be as ridiculous as he wanted.
A few weeks later, he brought a man back to their apartment.
It was just a stranger from a local club, someone who could follow directions and not want to cross any of Andrew’s lines - it had been too long since he’d had sex, and he planned to make the most of this. He’d already talked to Neil about it, warned him that he was bringing a person back to their apartment, and as he’d expected, the junkie was nowhere to be seen when Andrew and his late night dalliance arrived.
He didn’t need permission, but informing Neil was just common sense; they both didn’t trust strangers, and Andrew didn’t need protection either, but in the end this was Neil’s apartment too. If he had been against someone coming back at all, then Andrew would have simply blown a man in the club’s bathroom and called it a night. But it seemed that Neil’s paranoia had calmed down considerably since settling into having a family.
“I don’t care,” Neil had told him, casual as anything. “Bring whoever you want back as long as they’re gone in the morning.”
Andrew smirked. “And if I find myself a boyfriend?” He almost sneered the word.
Across from him, Neil laughed and then pinned him with knowing eyes. “If you ever do, I’ll look forward to getting to know him.”
They both knew it would never happen.
“Remember to use condoms,” Neil reminded him, entirely serious, and Andrew despaired at living the rest of his life with this idiot.
“Shut the fuck up, you don’t even have sex.”
Blue eyes gleamed. “I’m only looking out for you, Drew, safe sex is very important.”
He shoved the menace back roughly and walked out, the air carrying the sound of Neil cackling as he went.
It only worked because the two of them trusted each other.
And so Andrew brought a man back, took him to his rooms one night and took him apart in the safety of somewhere that was entirely his, and it was good.
Andrew was a man who enjoyed sex, who had a higher libido than average and who wasn’t ashamed of satisfying it. His drive had dipped down after the break up, but now that things had settled into a new routine that he was content with, it had quickly come back. Andrew no longer made it a habit to deny himself what he wanted.
The past few years had been kind to him. He’d never felt as confident or as comfortable. He wasn’t as angry. He wasn’t unhappy anymore. He wasn’t walking with one foot over the edge, waiting for the next bad thing.
He was the healthiest he’d ever been, and sometimes that still shocked him. He’d lived past twenty.
It was simultaneously freeing and confusing, living and living well. Not something he’d expected, but he wasn’t afraid of the future anymore - no, he faced it head on now, no matter what happened. And he thinks that the child he’d been would even be happy with the person Andrew is now, which is a bit of a mindfuck.
He’s strong enough to fight back, and strong enough to win. He won, in spite of everything.
Happy endings had never been meant for him, and yet. It’s ironic that it happened to a man who hadn’t wanted it, but Andrew is greedy; he isn’t letting go.
The morning after, he kicks his one night stand out before he can get any ideas about staying, and then he takes a long, hot shower, closing his eyes and letting himself relax under the water. He comes out loose limbed and calm, eyes half lidded, slow in his approach to the kitchen. Neil is there already, making waffles, and Andrew feels good.
“They’re almost done,” the other man tells him, humming, “I made coffee if you want some.” The smile is apparent in his voice, and Andrew exhales contentedly, the corner of his lips moving up. Looks like they’re both in a good mood this morning.
Andrew fixes himself coffee, putting in sugar and cream and sitting down at the table to wait for his waffles. He sees the chocolate syrup already there, and he feels fond. Trust Neil to set that out first before anything else.
There’s always something better about the coffee Neil makes in comparison to all the takeout coffee they get - somehow, this is still his favorite.
“Kevin wants to come over soon.”
Andrew huffs. Neil turns around to shoot him an amused look. “I told him to come whenever he’s free. I know you’re looking forward to seeing him again.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Wherever did you get that idea?”
The blond shines through his red curls under the morning light streaming in from the balcony. Then, a grin. “Lie all you want, I know you miss it being just the three of us.”
“You’re delusional,” Andrew boredly replies, but he knows Neil is right. He just can’t stand being so fucking sappy like Neil has no issue being.
“Done!” And with that, the both of them sit down to eat, Andrew stacking his plate full and piling on chocolate while Neil eats his plain. They playfully poke and prod at each other, and Andrew knows it’s a good day.
Before leaving for a run, Neil bends down to kiss his forehead, grinning. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me.”
Andrew stares after him, only stunned for a few seconds before he leans his head on his hand and softly laughs.
Andrew puts all of his weight into the swing of his racket, the ball flying back down the court in a blur of motion that he knows Neil is already running towards. He feels the solid, heavy hit in his muscles. They ache after a long day of practice, and yet he still stands and watches Neil catch the pass before throwing it on his tenth step, the other goalie jumping for it but just missing it as the ball just barely makes it in with mere seconds to spare.
The loud buzz of the clock rings out over the court, and all at once the whole team is talking, laughing or groaning. Andrew catches Neil’s gaze for one moment, then two before the idiot is breaking out into a wide smile, one that makes him turn away only to scoff. Still a junkie.
Of course, he doesn’t even make it very far from the goal before Neil is there, tired but happy, clicking racquets with an unenthused Andrew.
“Good game,” he says brightly.
Andrew glares. “Fuck off.”
A few of their teammates eye them, almost as nosy as the Foxes used to be. He’s never cared for them either way but of course Neil can never leave well enough alone; it seems you either love him or hate him, and never has that been exemplified more than by this team, with most who seem to think they’re friends, hanging off of every word he says, and the rest having delusions of grand rivalries and competitions. It’s a pain no matter what, but so far no one’s gone too far, so Andrew is tempted to just wash his hands of the situation altogether, bored to tears by these people and the way they’re almost as bad as the junkie when it comes to stickball.
But Andrew still keeps his eye on Neil - who else would? He still doesn’t trust a martyr not to get into trouble when he isn’t looking.
He still doesn’t trust Neil with anyone else. For all that he’s been to therapy, gotten better, is healthy… he still has his flaws. He still has issues with control and with letting go. And he knows that Neil doesn’t even seem to mind, already used to all of Andrew’s shit, but he’s trying. Fuck it, but he really is.
(He doesn’t want to be a babysitter or a warden, but how can he stop when the last time he let go, Neil went off to die? When he almost lost him?)
Andrew isn’t losing him; he refuses. Neil doesn’t get to die as long as Andrew’s still around.
(But you almost lost Aaron too, didn’t you? Because no one else understands just how fucked the world is, how the people in it don’t wait around to screw you over - Andrew isn’t paranoid, he’s prepared. He has precious few things left; how is he at fault for trying to protect them?)
He follows Neil into the showers, both of their stalls right next to each other’s, and for a moment, Andrew closes his eyes just to listen to the sound of the water. It streams down, a heavy pressure of noise that gently makes its way into his head, reverberating. It soothes a small amount of the tension lingering in his shoulders.
After they’re clean and changed out, ready to go home, Neil laughs and waves away any remaining hangers-on, turning to him with a content look and asking, “Home?”
Just with that look, Andrew feels something click back into place, settling again. “We’re getting takeout tonight.”
All throughout the walk to the car, Neil lets himself talk and Andrew lets himself listen, occasionally humming in reply.
“Chinese?” Neil bumps him with his hip, and he retaliates with a rough shove back. The idiot stumbles briefly before straightening, laughing all the way. The question is forgotten as the both of them get into a bit of a playful fight, one that ends with Neil’s hair in a mess and Andrew biting back a smile.
In the car, they settle into their respective seats like a well worn ritual. Neil in the passenger side, Andrew driving - something that’s been done a thousand times before, and something that will be done a thousand, a million more. He thinks that if just this was the rest of their life, he and Neil and the open road… he can’t think of much better.
Here, he’s in control, safe. Here, he has Neil and wherever either of them wants to go. Here, they don’t even need words, just their hands clasped together and music blaring. And for all that Andrew is careful and steady, here he lets himself be reckless, because in the end he trusts himself above all when it comes to keeping the junkie safe.
What a rush, to be with someone just as reckless as you.
“Faster,” Neil grins, the setting sun turning everything it touches some shade of pink, orange or red. Andrew glances at the speedometer and then pushes down on the gas, watching it tick up and up and up.
Neil whoops, and Andrew feels alive.
And then he gets the call.
“Mr. Minyard, I’m sorry to inform you of an accident. You are listed as the emergency contact of Neil Josten, who earlier this morning…”
It isn’t even someone he knows - not their coach or a teammate or even Kevin. He has to hear of it all from a stranger. Neutral tones wrapped in sympathetic pity. A well rehearsed, formulaic routine.
Andrew despises it, but he has no energy left to hang up.
They tell him where Neil is but not how he’s doing. Useless. They say he’s still with the doctor. His hands nearly crack the phone from how tightly he sqeezes it. He has no patience for this.
As soon as the call is over, he’s moving - he’s out the door in record speed, unlocking the car and then he’s on the road, determined to get there on time. He has a rabbit to catch, and he’s not losing anything to chance.
This time, Andrew is not going to be too late.
All through the drive, his head is a blank nothing, just repeating the bland words from a stranger. On repeat, over and over.
Hit by a car. Hit by a car. Hit by a car.
It’s like one of his nightmares, long and awful. He feels like he’s burning up even as he’s numb. He doesn’t know when he’ll be waking up.
It doesn’t feel real.
Time passes by in a blur, and in a hospital waiting room, he sits with his head in his hands and wonders what will happen if Neil dies. It feels like something has already been ripped out of him. He gets up, drinks shitty hospital coffee, and attempts not to think about early mornings, breakfast and good days, or long drives never complete without takeout coffee from a different place every time, Neil smiling and laughing like he isn’t -
Andrew waits.
Eventually, he gets news. Neil isn’t dead, but he hasn’t woken up. No one knows if he will.
Andrew runs. He escapes up to the roof, bursting out the door and onto hard concrete like it means anything. Nothing changes; he’s still fucked up, and so is Neil.
He wants to scream. He wants to rage and tear himself apart. If Neil dies, he will.
What’s the point of it all if Neil’s not there? Andrew made a choice, that day in Baltimore, or maybe even earlier - maybe he knew from the moment he first set eyes on him that Neil Josten was the kind of trouble he’d never be able to leave alone.
They’d both decided to stay. And yet, here he is, staring out at a bright sky over the hospital’s roof, wondering if his idiot has finally gone somewhere he can't follow.
It hurts. It fucking hurts.
Furious and desperate, Andrew hates himself even as he feels tears run down his cheeks.
This is what he gets for caring. He never should have expected anything more.
Not for someone like him.
He calls Bee, and then Aaron, Nicky and Kevin. Each conversation leaves him more exhausted than the last. By the end, he has no more words left to say, simply staring blankly at the wall. His eyes ache. The concept of time goes blurry, at times slow and other times fast - but it’s no matter to his body, which sits there for hours. Still waiting. Still trying not to hope.
He is reminded of the person he was before he met Neil, angry and unhappy. Bitter and apathetic. He does not want to become that again.
He’s worked too hard to be who he is - what a waste it would be to go back. What a waste for Neil Josten to die. Andrew digs his nails into his knees over his jeans, tight enough for his fingers to go white. It’s awful to be so affected. He hates it.
He hates Neil, and isn’t that the truth? “I’ll kill you,” he mutters under his breath, closing his eyes briefly if only to see him again. He’s there in the back of his head, smirking with those eyes of his that have never seen a monster - eyes that see all of him, never once looking away. In his memories, it’s like a knife to remember, but Andrew is someone used to bleeding.
Later, Aaron is the first to find him; his face is unreadable, but when he crosses the room in a flash only to pull him in for a hug, Andrew freezes.
His brother squeezes tightly, then lets out a breath before pulling back. “Sorry,” he murmurs, half awkward and half defiant.
Andrew looks at him, at the bags under his eyes and doesn’t know how many rules he broke just to get here in time. “Shut up,” he says, all of his tension leaving him in one great rush. He staggers back down into his seat, and Aaron waits with him, sometimes talking him through how good Neil’s chances are to wake up, others just being there with him, silent and frowning.
They’ve come a long way.
The rest of the former Foxes all come one right after another, even Wymack and Abby, who stand close and tell him that Bee is on her way. Most of them probably left in the middle of their lives without waiting to ask for permission, but he also knows they don’t give a fuck when it comes to Neil, one of their own.
Once a Fox, always a Fox. Unfortunately, that includes him, and he has to endure being surrounded by all of them as they all speak over one another asking questions and, in the case of Allison, snarling and cursing; anyone who thinks she’s mellowed out over the years is an idiot.
He’s hugged again, this time by Nicky, who in comparison to Aaron has no shame and holds on for a lot longer. “It’ll be alright, Andrew,” his cousin says, sad but firm.
“How can you know?” He asks, harsh.
Nicky looks at him, shaking his head. “Because if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Neil loves you enough to fight to come back to you. To us.”
Most forget that it was Nicky who raised him and Aaron, but Andrew never has. In moments like these, it’s all too clear; he has always respected the steel that comes out only when it comes to family. He’s the same way.
Andrew reaches for Nicky’s hand and holds on, probably failing in not cutting off circulation, but Nicky doesn’t say a word and doesn’t let go. Nicky has always been emotional, and when he was younger he was both frustrated and fascinated with it. Now, he’s glad for someone to be able to react when he can’t.
Nicky cries, Nicky hopes, Nicky finds strength in the love he feels, and Andrew takes comfort from that.
Renee and Kevin stand on either side of him like bodyguards, and in any other situation he would have found the humor in it. They stay with him, Renee with a hand on his shoulder that holds him up, and Kevin pins him to the chair with sharp green eyes, makes sure he doesn’t forget to eat or drink, and takes care of him.
They’ve always been like that. They take care of each other, and Andrew still remembers empty pill bottles and stashes of vodka - they might not have been the best at it, but fuck if they didn’t try.
He and Kevin kept each other alive for a time, and now they keep each other steady, painfully unbalanced without Neil around, but they make do. They always do.
“I’ve already put together an exercise plan for when he wakes up,” Kevin declares, Dan and Matt laughing at his words, but Andrew just breathes. Of course.
“Your funeral, Day.”
Kevin huffs. “Andrew hasn’t killed me yet.”
He lets Kevin’s familiar voice wash over him, the bickering and arguing and the way it raises something he trusts - he tunes out everyone, and lets someone else keep watch for once.
“I’m here, Andrew,” Renee says a little while later, and it’s something that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but not him. No, he holds her eyes and sees both the kindness and the weight of her past, finally done holding her down. Natalie is dead, but that doesn’t mean that Renee ever stopped fighting.
She’s offering to be whoever he needs, and he lets his head rest against her collarbone, the most he can give right now.
She understands. Somehow, she knows him. “You aren’t alone,” Renee promises him, gentle and fierce all at the same time. He’s always liked that about her.
When Bee arrives, it’s sometime past four in the morning. Her eyes still look the same, and her voice is like deja vu - he remembers her in the hospital with him after that one Thanksgiving, her voice over the phone, miles and miles away but still so close. With her here, he finally lets himself break, because he knows she will help him put himself back together.
If he cries and rails against the world, shouting with clenched fists and angry eyes at something he’ll never be able to kill, she’ll never tell.
She’s always kept his secrets, after all. It's what she’s good at.
Bee gives him options, gives him choices, and reminds him that there is more, if only he tries.
Andrew almost feels like himself again.
When the doctor informs them all that Neil is finally, finally stable and awake, Andrew is the first to stand and also the first to enter the room. He sees familiar red hair and blue eyes blearily staring down at his own hands, fingers counting scars, and opens his mouth before he can consciously make the decision.
“Your name is Neil Josten, starting striker for the Jaguars, and you’re in Fairmont General Hospital after being hit by a car. It’s five thirty in the morning.” Andrew crosses over until he’s standing at the bedside, looking down when Neil looks up.
“Andrew?” That one, slightly out of it question is like sunlight after rain. He leans down to press his forehead to Neil’s, breathing in, out, in. His idiot follows his lead until their hearts are both calm and even. Their hands naturally intertwine.
And all of it, the worry, the fury, the heartbreak, the not-knowing, all of it was worth it to have him here, alive.
“You're not allowed to leave me behind.”
Neil nods, but Andrew grabs hold of his neck and squeezes hard, pulling back to glare down at him. “Where you go, I follow, do you understand?”
He can’t quite put it into words, but Neil has always been good at finding them.
“You’re not allowed to die,” Neil protests, eyes intense and intent.
“Then don’t die, you idiot.” Andrew shakes him from side to side, gently enough since he’s still weak.
As always, Neil is stupid, infuriating, and impossible. But Andrew loves him, even if he’s not in love.
Neil is his, and he is Neil’s. It’s as simple as that.
Later, they’ll go home and be able to sleep curled on top of each other on the couch watching documentaries, Andrew baking and Neil ordering takeout, but for now Andrew lets Neil press a kiss to his cheek as he sits by his side, not moving for anything.
“Thank you,” Neil breathes, so warm, and Andrew knows it for what it really means - I’m sorry, I love you, stay.
He brushes a kiss over Neil’s forehead, an answer if one knows how to listen. A promise.
“You’re paying for coffee next time,” is all he says, and he feels alright. He feels better than alright.
Neil laughs, and that place inside of him that feels is settled and content once more.
Andrew has all he has ever needed: his people, whole and healthy. He isn’t letting go.
The rest of the Foxes come crashing through the door, to the protests of the doctor, noisy and chaotic as usual. Neil visibly lights up and grins at the sight of them all, and as they crowd the both of them, Andrew supposes there are worse people to share a hospital room with.
He still gives Matt a blank stare when the other man tries to put a hand on his shoulder, and bites down on the smirk that wants to form at how the backliner freezes and then slowly lowers his hand, eyes wide. Behind her fiance, he sees Dan shake her head at them both, and Andrew tilts his head in amusement.
As Nicky wraps himself around Neil in a full body hug, and Aaron and Kevin subtly step beside him, Andrew gives up and lets himself smile, as small as it may be.
He’s among family, after all.