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The buzzer rang out across the court like a judge’s gavel coming down to give their final sentence. Neil knew what the score would say but couldn’t help looking one more time in hopes that somehow it had changed since he last checked it. The truth of the score in bright red numbers up on the board burned into Neil’s eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to even out his ragged breathing but even behind his eyelids he could still see the numbers clearly; 5-7 in Kevin’s favor.
They’d played two full quarters with Kevin and Riko as strikers and Jean and Neil playing backliners, switching marks every few minutes to keep things even. Both Neil and Jean had tried to hold back when guarding Riko and pushing themselves while guarding Kevin. This only went on for a few swaps of marks before Tetsuji’s cane had smacked onto the floor, sending the game to a halt. Tetsuji made sure he had the attention of both Jean and Neil before giving a subtle shake of his head, then let gameplay resume.
Neil opened his eyes and took a look at the faces around the court. Jean met his eyes for a moment, nausea and fear obvious in his features. He looked to Kevin next. He was standing perfectly still except for the fast rise and fall of his chest from exertion, staring up at the scoreboard in obvious shock, his racket held so loosely in his shaking hands that Neil was surprised it hadn’t fallen to the court floor yet. Tetsuji and the men from the ERC had their heads bowed together, speaking quietly and occasionally shooting looks at the boys on the court.
Neil had avoided looking at Riko until last, not ready to accept the rage and pain that he and Jean had to expect tonight after the banquet ended. Riko was frozen, staring up at the scoreboard with his racket held so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were white. Even in his forced stillness, Neil could still see the slight shake in Riko’s form. The fire in his eyes was burning hot enough that Neil could feel it like secondhand smoke drifting across the court.
All of the boys were shaken out of their states by Tetsuji opening the door to the court and smacking his cane twice on the floor. They all snapped to attention and hurried over to stand in a line in front of The Master, in order by number.
In English, Tetsuji spoke loud enough for the ERC to hear, “That was an excellently played game. We will reconvene back on the court shortly to discuss what we will be working on and what changes might be made on this team going forward.”
Tetsuji took a step forward before saying in much lower and faster Japanese, “ There will be consequences for the way you behaved on this court tonight and for the damage I will be having to fix with the ERC. You will all go to your rooms, you will not speak to a single soul, and you will not leave your rooms until I call for you. Is this clear?”
“Yes, Master,” the four boys answered back in unison in the same language.
The group watched Tetsuji and the men from the ERC walk out of the court. Neil felt the increasing tension on the court starting to suffocate him but no one would dare move a muscle before Riko made the first move, showing them how they were going to deal with this astronomical fallout and the way the punishments were going to be doled out between them.
Between one breath and another, Neil saw Riko’s racket shoot out and he braced himself for the impact, feeling Jean do the same next to him. To his surprise, the target of the hit was Kevin. Neil heard the racket make contact with what he assumed from the height of the racket was Kevin’s stomach and the noise of pain that was forced out of him. Neil turned to see Kevin stumbling back, doubled over while obviously trying not to vomit on his own shoes.
“You are nothing compared to me, Kevin. I am your king !” Riko snarled as he advanced on Kevin.
Kevin held out a hand and looked up at Riko, swallowing back nausea before babbling out, “I’m sorry, Riko. It was just a few lucky shots. You’re still the better player. I’m sorry.”
Riko’s arm came back and then swung his fist into Kevin’s jaw, causing him to fall onto his hands and knees. Neil felt Jean try to make a move towards Kevin next to him and shot his hand out to grab onto Jean’s wrist with a deadly grip.
“Do not move,” Neil hissed out under his breath, forcing his face into emotionless stillness, as they watched Riko land a kick to Kevin’s stomach and go down onto his side, curling into a protective ball the best he could.
“But –” Jean tried to argue, only to be cut off by a sharp squeeze to his wrist.
“Don’t,” Neil pressed back, while Riko landed kick after kick onto Kevin’s back and stomach. A final heavy kick sent Kevin sprawling onto his back, a large bruise already forming on his jaw from Riko’s punch.
Kevin pulled in stuttering breaths, his body seeming exhausted from the assault it endured, “Riko, please , we can go again. We can show them you’re the best. It was a fluke , it was just a fluke! ”
Kevin’s pleas were cut off as Riko straddled his chest and grabbed his hair between angry fingers, ripping his head off the floor, “Shut the fuck up! You ungrateful little bitch. I made you what you are. My uncle would’ve left you on the goddamn street ,” for emphasis on the word street, he smashed Kevin’s head into the floor and then yanked it back up, “If I hadn’t asked to keep you.”
Neil could feel shaking where his hand was wrapped around Jean’s wrist but he couldn’t tell anymore if it was Jean’s or his own at this point. This type of violence was something he and Jean were accustomed to enduring but they’d never seen it turned on Kevin like this. Kevin usually got away with a cruel twist of his hair while Riko berated him, a punch or two in an area that could be covered by a jersey, or harsh shoves against lockers after practice but never this. This was the type of cruelty Riko reserved for official Moriyama property, the people he’d been gifted as toys and Tetsuji had purchased as investments. Kevin had always been different. In his own fucked up way, Riko had always seen Kevin as family and that made him off limits to everyone except himself.
Yet here they were, Jean and Neil standing as still as statues watching Riko screaming poison at Kevin worse than they’d ever heard before, smashing his head into the floor to cut off his apologies and pleas. Never before had Kevin not been able to get away when he stroked Riko’s ego and lowered himself to his place at second. He was a coward to the core, Neil had never failed to throw that in Kevin’s face before, but it was how he chose to survive. He cowed to Riko, always a silent yes-man in the corner, who would try his best to come back in secret to help clean up the damage. His spine had been long gone since childhood but Neil still remembered it fondly when Kevin would find it again occasionally when the risks weren’t too high.
Neil fought and talked back and took the attention away from Jean and Kevin. His survival rested on the fact that he could still fight and feel the fire inside him. The day that Neil stopped fighting, the day the fire went out, he knew was the day he would let himself die. By whose hand, he couldn’t say but without that fire Neil knew he would quickly freeze and become nothing. That fight was how he’d coined his preferred name, sick of being told to kneel so often that he adopted Neil as a name to piss off Riko and began to answer to it when Riko tried to order him to kneel instead of following the command. Even Riko’s cronies struggled to keep a straight face when he would bark out, “Neil, kneel.”
Jean survived on small kindnesses, Neil had learned over the years. Like fireflies blinking on a dark summer night, Jean’s own life hinged on being able to see these lights in the dark of his existence. Having Kevin rest a strong hand on his shoulder and giving him quiet praise when Riko wasn’t looking, Neil holding him in the bottom of the shower and whispering poems in French that he’d memorized from their childhood when Jean was borderline catatonic after a punishment by Riko or the Master, swapping his own fruit for Neil’s vegetables in opposition to their strict meal plans when he knew that Neil was slipping. These were the things that kept Neil from losing Jean and Jean from losing himself.
All at once, Neil felt himself jerked out of his train of thought by the sound of his name and couldn’t stop the reflexive, “What?” that followed.
Neil saw Riko freeze from his spot on top of Kevin and slowly make his way over to himself and Jean. Neil felt the hand gripping his hair before he could even register Riko making a move and felt himself being dragged onto his tiptoes, forced to look up at Riko’s face.
“What did you just say to me, Nathaniel?”
Neil held back a wince as he answered, “I’m sorry, King.”
“I’m sure you are,” Riko said as he pushed Neil away, “But you’ll be more sorry if that happens again. Hold his legs, Nathaniel. Jean, hold his arms.”
“ What? Hold his legs, what do you mean hold his legs?” Neil couldn’t understand where Riko was planning to take this. The sinking feeling in his gut told him it was going to somewhere past a point of no return.
Riko met his questions with a backhand across his face. “I said hold his legs, Nathaniel. Or do I need to bring Reacher and Johnson in here to give you two a hands on reminder of how that works?”
The threat of Johnson and Reacher snapped Jean out of his own stupor and he made his way to Kevin in only a few steps. Neil watched Jean blinking back the tears in his eyes as he grabbed Kevin’s wrists to pin them above his head. From his kneeled position, Jean was perfectly aligned to be eye to eye with Kevin below him. Neil made his way to Kevin’s legs. When he got closer, he could hear the quiet French being exchanged between the two.
“Jean, please, don’t do this. Please, I’m sorry. Please, just don’t do this to me,” Kevin was pleading, staring up at Jean with wide eyes.
Layered over Kevin’s pleas, Jean was whispering back with each breath, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please forgive me, Kevin. I’m so sorry.”
Neil took his own place at Kevin’s feet, wrapped his hands around his ankles, and pressed down to use as much of his body weight as possible to keep him from kicking. He could hear Riko pacing from behind him but couldn’t see what he was doing or planning. After a few more seconds of Jean and Kevin’s back and forth, he heard the drag of an Exy racquet across the floor and Riko’s footsteps getting closer.
“We are going to play another game, Kev,” Riko started, placing the net of the racquet against Kevin’s stomach. “This time, Jean is going to pick a number and Nathaniel is going to pick the place we play.”
“Riko, we can just –” Kevin tried to say before being cut off by the racquet being shoved roughly against his diaphragm.
“Shut the fuck up, Kevin. I’ve heard enough from you today. Time to hear from Jean. Jean, pick a number.”
“I – A number? How - what is it for?” Jean stammered out.
“Why are you questioning me? Just pick a fucking number or I’ll double whatever is it for you.”
Jean aggressively shook his head a few times. Neil knew it was how Jean distanced himself mentally when he was in situations like this. He’d explained it before to Neil that it felt like he was shaking his own consciousness out. The less he could be aware of what was happening to him and around him, the more likely he could come back from it later.
“Five. It’s - Just – Five.”
“Great answer, Jean. Five it is. Nathaniel, you get to pick where we play to five,” Riko drug his racquet up Kevin’s chest to his arm and ended at his hand. “Hand,” he said before dragging the racquet back down Kevin’s body to his kneecap, “Or kneecap.”
Neil felt his blood freeze. Hand or kneecap? Playing to five on Kevin’s hand or on his kneecap?
“Come on, Nathaniel. Give me an answer or it’ll have to be a tie on both,” Riko baited him with a disgustingly sadistic grin.
Riko liked to play these games between the boys. The illusion of choice and the ability to shift the blame for the consequences onto them. Even though logically they knew the other person didn’t really have a choice, that the punishment and abuse would happen no matter what, on the dark days it still made it difficult to seek comfort in the person they knew chose exactly how they would suffer.
Hand. Kneecap. There was no good answer here and neither one would Kevin ever be able to forgive Neil for if it was about to be five hits of a racquet or five stomps onto the body part like he was guessing was the plan. If Riko broke Kevin’s left hand, his career is over. Even Kevin Day couldn’t come back from having his dominant hand destroyed. If Riko broke Kevin’s kneecap, his career is also likely over but he also had no chance of running.
Kevin could run. He wasn’t property in the technical sense. Kayleigh never sold him to the Moriyamas, apparently just had Tetsuji listed in her will as next of kin guardian if anything were to happen to her. How convenient, Neil always thought. Emotionally, he was so severely indebted to the family that he never had considered leaving himself but there were good odds he wouldn’t be killed for it. As a legal adult, there wasn’t much the cops or courts could do to bring him back. As for what the main branch might think or do to get him back, that was a problem for after Kevin was out of Riko’s hands in the Nest. Riko was a bigger threat to Kevin’s life at the moment than the entire main family.
Neil swallowed down the nausea he felt and gave his answer, “Hand. His hand.”
At his answer, Kevin began to thrash and try to break free from their hold.
“No!” He screamed, “No! Riko, no! Nate, don’t let him do this! I can’t – My hand, I – Please, just make him stop! Riko, I’ll do anything, I swear.”
Neil bit down hard onto his cheek, forcing himself to hold back whatever words wanted to spill out of his mouth. The plan was set, talking back now would only destroy Kevin’s chance of escape after the assault. He watched as Riko walked up to where Kevin’s arms were being restrained by Jean and then tossed the racquet that was in his hands down the court.
“Make sure to count them out loud, Jean. You picked the number,” Riko said before smashing his foot down onto Kevin’s hand over and over. Neil could hardly watch but felt like he owed it to Kevin in some way to bear witness to the destruction of his life.
Once Jean shook out “five”, Riko took a step back. Blood was smeared into his shoe and onto the court. He looked down at the mess of Kevin’s hand with distaste and then between Jean and Neil.
“Clean him up and bring him back to the room before my uncle arrives,” Riko said plainly then walked off the court, leaving behind the sound of shuddered sobs coming from Kevin.
When Neil was sure Riko was off the court, he sprang up and moved to assess the damage of Kevin’s hand. Jean had fallen back and pulled his knees into his chest, hands in his hair and rocking back and forth slightly. His eyes were turned to Kevin but Neil could tell he was a million miles away from the scene in front of him.
Even without looking closely, Neil could clearly see a few pieces of bone sticking through the skin. Kevin couldn’t see this. If he saw it, there was no way Neil was going to be able to get him out of here.
“Jean,” Neil said as firmly as he could muster. “Jean!”
Jean’s eyes slid from Kevin’s body on the ground to Neil’s face, clarity sharpening them.
“He - He’s never going to play again,” Jean said in disbelief. At Jean’s words, Kevin began to hyperventilate.
“Fuck! Jean, give me your jersey, now.” Neil demanded and without question or complaint, Jean stripped his jersey off and placed it in Neil’s outstretched hand.
Neil hurried closer to Kevin, who was clutching his wrist and staring at his hand, his breaths coming impossibly fast.
“Kevin, this is going to hurt but I need you to trust me, okay?” Without waiting for a response, Neil wrapped Kevin’s hand in the jersey as quickly and securely as possible to slow the bleeding. He saw the moment the pain finally hit Kevin. It was sudden enough of a shift that he wasn’t able to move out of the way fast enough to dodge the vomit coming at him.
Neil ground his teeth together hard enough he could feel his jaw creak. Nothing mattered right now except getting Kevin out, despite how absolutely disgusting it felt to be covered in vomit, hands covered in blood.
“Jean, I need you to find Riko and keep him busy so he can’t look for Kevin. I need to get Kevin out of here.”
Jean froze from his spot on the floor, looking at Neil like he was a foreign object. “You can’t be serious.”
Neil moved around Kevin to kneel in front of Jean, wiping his hands onto his pants before reaching out to cup the sides of Jean’s face. “Jean, he can’t stay here. Riko will kill him. Kevin has to go.”
Jean’s own hands came up to rest over Neil’s, gripping them tightly, eyes flicking between Neil’s. “Wymack,” He said after a moment's hesitation, “The Foxes coach. Take him to David Wymack. That’s his father.”
Neil’s eyebrows shot together in confusion. “What?”
“He found a letter from his mother in the Master’s office. David Wymack is his father. He doesn’t know Kevin is his son but the idiot’s team is full of hopeless cases. He’ll take him even without knowing.”
Neil nodded before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the top of Jean’s head. They shared a look of understanding and then Jean was off. Neil turned his attention back to Kevin, who seemed close to passing out if he couldn’t get his breathing under control soon.
In a mirror to his position with Jean, Neil wrestled Kevin’s face between his hands to force him to make eye contact. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything to bring Kevin back to himself so they could leave. He tried a few different tactics that sometimes worked with Jean before remembering something from years before.
When Kevin was around fifteen, he had spent the night in Neil and Jean’s room with a stolen bottle of vodka on the anniversary of his mother’s death. Kayleigh was usually a taboo subject around Kevin, Riko, or the Master but the alcohol and crushing grief had loosened Kevin’s lips that night. He told them about all the Irish folk tales his mother would tell him before bed and spent the good part of an hour drunkenly teaching them Gaeilge proverbs, sayings, and words his mother used to say to him.
He desperately tried to pull the words out of his memory, having written them down but not used them out loud since that night.
“A good run is better than a bad stand,” Neil was finally able to get his mouth around the language and say.
At the familiar sound of the Irish language, Kevin seemed to start to come back to himself. His breathing was still much faster than Neil would like but his eyes had begun to focus on Neil’s face finally, the best they could with his obvious concussion.
“You’re safe, Kevin. I’m here,” Neil brokenly managed from his memory of what Kevin’s mother would say to comfort him after a bad dream. Kevin reached out with his right hand and fisted it in Neil’s jersey, staring at him with a blazing intensity. They sat that way for a minute, Kevin following Neil’s breaths from where he could feel the other boy’s chest rising and falling beneath his fist.
“Kevin,” Neil said finally, “We have to go. We’re going to find David Wymack. You have to leave. You can’t stay here.”
Instead of an argument like Neil had been expecting, Kevin only hesitated slightly before pressing his forehead against Neil’s and nodding in agreement. Neil broke away and stood up, helping Kevin to stand as well. Kevin cradled his hand against his chest, standing on wobbly legs. Neil wrapped an arm around his waist to try and support him as they walked off the court towards the back parking lot.
Getting Kevin to the Foxes bus to be found by the team wasn’t exactly the most foolproof plan to exist but Neil was flying by the seat of his pants and in a time crunch. If he could get Kevin to the bus, pry open the door, and drop him there, he could hopefully make it back to his room before Tetsuji or Riko knew he hadn’t gone back like he’d been told. If all else failed, even dumping Kevin next to the bus was a better move than going back into the banquet in his practice clothes, covered in throw up and blood to try and find the coach himself or find and convince any of the Foxes to lead him to the coach, all the while leaving Kevin alone somewhere out of sight.
The two stuck to back hallways and against the walls as much as possible before finally making it outside without being spotted. Neil scanned the parking lot, hoping it would be obvious what bus was the Foxes. The garish orange shined back at him from a few rows down. Neil silently thanked whatever was out there that Kevin’s dad was the coach of the team with the most obnoxious colors in the entire sport.
Neil pulled Kevin along towards the bus and gently lowered Kevin to the ground beside it, letting him lean against the vehicle to rest. The concussion seemed to be starting to really take a toll on Kevin, his eyes even more unfocussed than before and his eyes squinted against the lights of the parking lot. He leaned his head back against the bus and closed his eyes.
“Kevin!” Neil snapped from his spot in front of the doors to the bus, “Kevin, you can’t go to sleep. You have a concussion.”
Kevin’s eyes opened into slits, “M’tired, Neil,” He slurred back.
“I know you’re tired, Kev, but you can’t sleep yet. I need you to stay awake for me. Talk to me about something – Tell me that story your mom liked, Kev. Just stay awake.”
Neil watched Kevin’s eyes drift closed again but instead of sleeping, he started slurring out a story Neil could not discern one way or another. Not that it mattered, Kevin could be reciting the Declaration of Independence by memory or the secrets to the universe for all he cared. He just needed Kevin awake.
A flash of pain erupted in the side of Neil’s head, making him stumble back a few steps to keep from falling. When he looked back, the doors to the bus were wide open and standing in the doorway, leaning casually, was Riko’s marked Perfect Court number five. Andrew Minyard.
“Well, what do we have here? A few little birdies out late flying?” Andrew asked with a manic-looking grin.
Neil raised his hands in a placating way, answering, “I need you to get your coach.”
Andrew threw his head back and laughed, coming down the final few steps of the bus to stand on even ground with Neil, “You’re a funny bird. Did you just hatch? I don’t think I know you.”
“It doesn’t matter who I am, I just need you to get your coach,” Neil ground out, trying to keep a level head. A sound of pain from Kevin had both him and Andrew turning their heads to investigate where it came from, then back to each other.
“Little birdie broke his wing?” Andrew guessed, “Tragic. Not sure how that’s my problem.”
“It’s not your problem. It’s your coach’s problem, so if you could just go fucking get him that’d be –,” Neil cut himself off at the familiar feeling of a knife being pressed against his stomach. He drug his eyes down Andrew’s face to between their two bodies, where he saw the knife held firmly in Andrew’s hand against him.
“Little birdie doesn’t like knives?” Andrew taunted. It had to be in the top five stupidest things he’d ever had said to him under knifepoint.
Neil huffed in exasperation, unable to hold his tongue, “Who the fuck likes having a knife pulled on them? And can you drop the goddamn bird jokes? They’re stale. If you’re gonna pull a fucking knife on me and threaten me, at least make it worth my time. Which, if it wasn’t clear, I don’t have much of.”
Andrew pressed the knife harder into him, enough that Neil could feel the bite of the blade between the thin layer of his jersey, “Tick tock, then. Sounds like you better sing a good song soon.”
Tick tock was right. If he didn’t make it back to his room soon, the Master would be the least of his worries in the upcoming week. A direct disobedience of an order from the Master would almost certainly mean a visit from his father to “remind him” where and what he is.
Neil pressed himself closer into the knife, his irritation with the games Andrew was trying to play and the threat of his father looming over his head outweighing his trained response to having a knife pulled on him. He felt the tip of the knife break skin.
Neil tipped his chin to look down on Andrew with his slim height advantage and felt his father’s grin spread across his lips, “Either gut me or go get your coach, because I don’t have time for your childish indecision.”
Andrew was skilled at schooling his reactions, Neil could give him that much at least. Even though every nerve in his body was willing him to take a swing on this obnoxious asshole, he was still impressed by how hard it was to notice any reaction from Andrew. The only indication Neil could see that Andrew was taken off guard by his response was the very slight tilt of his head to the side and his eyes flicking to the knife between their bodies and back up again to Neil’s face.
Andrew withdrew his knife and took a step back, giving Neil a full look over head to toe with a glint in his eyes. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
The knife was returned to what must be a sheath hidden under his sleeve. The armbands he was known to always wear must be where he hides them, if Neil had to take a guess. It made sense for them to have a purpose outside of style. Without another word, Andrew walked off from Neil back towards the banquet. Neil figured that the lack of a larger stab wound was the only confirmation he had that Andrew was going to get the coach.
Neil scrubbed the smile off his face with the back of his hand and returned to Kevin’s side, crouching down. He reached a hand out and brushed the hair off of Kevin’s sweaty forehead. Kevin leaned into the touch, taking as deep of a breath as Neil was sure he could handle at the moment without hurling on him again. The thick swallow of Kevin’s throat confirmed that for him.
“I really need you to hold that down until I’m out of range, Kevin,” Neil half-joked softly.
Kevin answered with a choked laugh. The two of them sat that way for what felt like hours before Neil heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards them. He sprang up to stand in front of Kevin to protect him from the possible threat.
Standing in front of them was Andrew, David Wymack, and a woman he recognized as the team’s nurse. Knowing what he knew now, seeing Wymack standing in front of him, he could see the resemblance between Kevin and Wymack. The way their noses sloped, the slight asymmetry to their lips, same jawline. It’s a wonder the gossip magazines hadn’t put it together before. The woman made a move towards Kevin and Neil stepped to meet her, not about to let anyone touch Kevin without permission.
“Kid,” Wymack started, “You wanted me here and I’m here. I just need you to tell me what’s going on so I can help.”
Neil felt the tension in his body increase impossibly further at being in the presence of an adult man of similar stature to his own father. He swallowed down his fear, locking his eyes onto the spot between Wymack’s own.
“Kevin is hurt. He needs help. You have to take him,” Neil managed.
Wymack looked over the top of Neil’s head towards where Kevin was slumped against the bus. “Hurt. Got it. This here is Abby, our team’s nurse. Can she take a look at what we’re working with?”
Neil kept Wymack in his peripheral as he turned his gaze onto Abby to assess her. She was small, and would be easy to overpower if it came down to it to get Kevin away. With a small nod, Neil stepped to the side and returned his eyes to Wymack.
“Minyard, get the first aid kit from the bus,” Wymack barked out to the goalie, without moving his attention off of Neil, who followed the orders with a two fingered salute for some reason.
“Alright, kid, what are you willing to tell me about what’s going on here?” Wymack asked, Andrew pushing past him to hand the kit to Abby.
“It’s bad,” Neil supplied unhelpfully.
“Yeah, I can see that. Day looks beat to shit and judging by that jersey around his hand, I’m guessing he’s bleeding.”
“Yeah.”
Wymack heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand across his face, “Real talkative one, aren’t you? Can I at least know your name? You’re in a jersey and you were at the banquet but I’ve never seen you on the Raven’s roster. You don’t look older than fifteen at best.”
Neil felt himself bristle and snapped back, “I’m seventeen. I graduated early and I’m starting in the spring.”
At the look Wymack gave him, Neil shrunk back into himself and tried to present as obedient as possible.
Wymack held out his hands, much like one would do to an animal they were trying to not spook. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you on the court in the spring, then. What’s your name?”
In the face of this man after he’d already spoke out of turn to, Neil struggled to choke out his name, “Na - Nath -”
“Neil. His name is Neil,” Kevin supplied from his spot on the ground. Neil spun around to look at him. Abby had started to treat the wounds on the back of his head, wrapping gauze into place. Neil couldn’t blame her for avoiding the hand as long as possible.
Kevin met Neil’s eyes. With just the look and using his preferred name in the face of authority, Kevin said all he could ever say to Neil. Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Be safe. Don’t leave. Go back. Neil felt tears trying to force their way out of his eyes and blinked to erase them before they could fall.
It was all too much and Neil needed to get away. He turned around and tried to speed by Wymack, who held out a hand to stop him.
“Neil. I need to ask you something before I let you leave and I need you to be honest,” Wymack said firmly. Once Neil stopped, he continued, “Are you safe?”
Despite himself, Neil snorted a laugh at the question, “I’ll be safer if you let me leave in enough time to get back to my room before the Master knows I’m gone.”
Wymack’s face hardened at the answer, “If you want an out, you have one with me. No questions asked. Do you have a phone? Let me give you my number.”
In the face of such freely given hope, Neil felt off balance and answered, “I’m not allowed to have a phone.”
“Not allowed to have – Fuck, alright, kid. Alright, that’s fine. Just stay here for one second,” Wymack said, turning to hurry up the steps of the bus, coming back with the parking tag in his hand and a sharpie in the other, the cap discarded somewhere behind him. After scribbling down a phone number, he shoved it in Neil’s direction.
“Here,” Wymack offered, “Take it. Use it or don’t. Just take it. I want you to have a choice. Doesn’t seem like you’ve had too many of those.”
With a shaking hand, Neil took the number from Wymack, careful to not touch his fingers.
“Thank you,” Neil whispered without looking up from the slip in his hand, “Keep him safe. Please. Just – Keep him safe.”
“You did good, Neil. We’re going to keep him safe, I promise,” Wymack reassured him.
Neil nodded and without a look back, took off running across the parking lot. Back to the Nest and whatever horrors waited for him later tonight. No matter how fast he pushed his feet to move across the asphalt, he couldn’t outrun the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he met David Wymack like this.