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Growing up as a Raven, I never put much thought into the lives of my teammates. We were there for one thing and one thing only: to play exy. Hobbies they had, people they liked—none of it mattered to me unless it affected their gameplay.
The Foxes though? It’s uncomfortable how much they want to know—do know—about each other. Apparently having a teammate murdered by a psychotic rival related to the Yakuza, your goalie raped and beaten by his former foster brother, and another teammate almost murdered by his father after being brutally tortured, were all reasons to be open and honest with each other.
And honestly? That list doesn’t even cover the half of what happened last year.
Either way, what I’m trying to say is, with a team so close to each other, it confuses the hell out of me how they can be so fucking dumb when it comes to Andrew and Neil.
Maybe they deserve some grace. Truthfully, I thought it was a hate-fuck at the beginning, too. But I also had eyes and could see what was happening right in front of my face. Then I decided to ignore the shit out of it until they came forward to tell me (not like they would—sometimes talking to them is like talking to a brick wall.)
I stopped thinking it was anything less than genuine care for each other after Baltimore, though—possibly even a little before that if I’m being honest with myself. And yet, Nicky still makes jokes about what their sweet nothings probably sound like ( “Fuck you, Neil, I hate you.” “Fuck you right back, Andrew.” with some obnoxious kissing noises ) and sometimes I can see Dan’s concerned eyes looking at them like Neil’s not just as batshit crazy as Andrew.
Which he is.
He’s absolutely terrifying.
Not that I’ll ever admit it to him.
All of this is to say that it’s wild to me that everyone who claims to know them best can mistake their tenderness for hatred. I refuse to help them understand, too, and instead I’ve been delighting in their confusion. You can only lead a horse to water and all that.
They’ll figure it out one way or another.
The first time any of our tight-knit (gag) group has even a small inkling into the reality of what Andrew and Neil really are, it’s a cold, dreary day in October and Nicky has come over to our dorm to join us for breakfast.
He’s lamenting about the fact that he still has around two months until he gets to see Erik again when Andrew and Neil walk in. They’d gone to get the four of us coffees at Nicky’s bequest ( “Nicky we have coffee here why are we spending triple the amount for something that tastes the same.” “You just don’t have the same refined taste that I do, Josten.” ) and Neil barely takes a breath from his tirade to acknowledge our existence. Instead, he places a disgusting, sugar-filled drink in front of Nicky and a regular black coffee in front of me with rather more force than necessary.
“And,” Neil stresses. “If we don’t get Jack and Sheena up to standards we’re going to drown.”
Andrew answers in a way only Andrew can—with a flick of his eyes and a noncommittal hand gesture. Many people see this as dismissal, like he’s not listening and doesn’t care to listen. But Andrew listens to and remembers everything with that eidetic memory of his.
After experiencing Columbia first hand, I wish I didn’t know that about him. I’m still haunted by the image of him sitting in that blood-stained bed and my memory is nothing compared to his.
“Can we talk about something other than exy, I actually want to enjoy my breakfast,” Nicky says, but I roll my eyes and ignore him. Neil’s right. If it were up to me I would have had Jack joining our evening practices, but Coach Wymack had pulled me aside at the start of the season and asked me to let Neil get his footing as vice-captain.
Things are a bit awkward between me and Wymack—I’m still unsure whether he wants me to call him dad or not—so I accepted with little argument. Surprising for me, I know. He was surprised too, judging by the way his eyes widened and his eyebrows disappeared into his receding hairline.
“You need to be more firm with him. He’s walking all over you and you’re just taking it,” Andrew says, ignoring Nicky’s request.
“If I fight him on everything then I’m living up to whatever he’s saying about me being the murderous son of a dead mob boss.” Neil sighs and lets his body sag into their kitchen chair.
“You are the murderous son of a dead mob boss,” Nicky unhelpfully chimes.
“Look,” Andrew cuts in. “He’s weak on his left side and loses the ball in a battle against his mark every time . Work on his shooting later. Find a way to strengthen that weakness. Tell him he’s shit, goad him into a bet, I don’t care–but stop letting him treat you like a doormat.”
Neil sighs again, completely oblivious to the dumbstruck look on Nicky’s face. I want to laugh but it’s almost pathetic how shocked he is that Andrew pays attention to what Neil loves most.
“I thought he hated exy?” he asks the room at large.
“He does.” Neil shrugs but nods all the same, deep in thought about what Andrew said.
The rest of the meal is filled with silence but I feel accomplished. Not only is Neil more prepared going into our afternoon practice but the contemplative silence surrounding Nicky can only be a good thing in the long run.
Only time will tell.
***
The second time one of my teammates is shown a glimpse beneath the veil it's Matt who gets to bear witness to it. It’s breakfast again, but this time instead of Nicky sitting at our tiny table, I am blessed with his spiky hair first thing in the morning.
He and Neil are talking about some movie the upperclassmen dragged everyone to this past weekend but I tune them out. We have less than ten minutes until we have to leave for morning practice and Andrew still hasn’t gotten up yet. I’m about four seconds from stomping to our shared room to wake him up when I hear the bedroom door open and the bathroom door close with a quiet snick.
Neil freezes for a moment across from me, his eyes darting to the closed bathroom door. Andrew isn’t quiet in most things—his presence loud enough to make up for the fact that he rarely speaks or adds anything to a conversation unless it involves Neil.
Having lived with Andrew for a while now, I can tell this means it’s a Bad Day and if I can tell, Neil can definitely tell.
I watch as he gets up from the table, still nodding along like he’s listening to a single word Matt is saying, and starts making a simple bowl of porridge and a black coffee. By the time I hear the shower turn off, he’s placed both items on the table.
“We ready to go?” he asks.
“Are we not waiting for Andrew?” Matt replies, confused.
“He’s taking the morning off practice,” Neil says and then fishes his set of keys from the kitchen counter.
I open my mouth to argue—because, really, Jack only just started to make progress, and I wanted to have him practice taking shots on our team’s top goalie, and we absolutely cannot afford to slow momentum down at this point in the season—
But.
But Andrew is clearly struggling and Neil loves exy more than life itself and if he says Andrew isn’t well enough to play today then maybe I’ll shut my mouth for once.
Andrew comes into the kitchen then, his hair still wet from his shower and his eyes rimmed with dark purple bruises like he hasn’t seen sleep for a week, and I’m glad I chose to listen to Neil.
He takes one look at the breakfast Neil laid out for him and sits down without a word, staring at the spoon like it’ll magically start shoveling the porridge into his mouth without him having to lift a finger.
“I’m leaving now, Kevin, whether you’re ready or not.” Neil has somehow made it to the door, jacket and keys in hand, while I’ve been watching Andrew.
“Coming,” I say, and then look at Matt to make sure he follows. We make eye contact and there’s a question in Matt’s brown eyes that I’m unsure how to answer. So instead, I grab my own jacket and follow Neil out.
“You’re okay with him missing practice?” Matt murmurs to me the moment we’re in the hallway. He clearly knows enough to keep quiet in case Neil hears him.
“Neil loves exy enough to sacrifice his life just to play a little longer.” I pause to let that sink in. “If he says Andrew isn’t fit to play, he’s not fit to play.”
Matt huffs out a breath. “Huh.”
I shrug, not really knowing what else to say, and follow Neil to court.
***
A week later the entire team gets to experience the wonder of Andrew and Neil being an actual couple. I’m too annoyed to give two shits about it though. Not when my only slightly competent striker is almost taken out of the game.
I wipe the sweat from my eyes and turn to Jack, absolutely fucking livid. “What the fuck are you trying to do? Permanently injure one of the best strikers in the league? Watch where you’re swinging your racket or I’ll have Coach bench you. I’ve run full games before, I’ll do it again.”
Neil is slowly getting up from the ground, heaving like he has to fight for every breath entering his lungs. No wonder, too, considering he just took an exy racket straight to the stomach. Jack’s currently ranting about how maybe Neil should be more careful about where he puts his body and how it’s his fault if he gets injured, but none of us are stupid enough to believe his faux-innocent act.
We know Jack hates Neil.
We all saw the hamster in his fucking head running around in its little wheel as he made the decision to take a swing at him.
I’m about to lay into him again when I see Andrew saunter over. He doesn’t stop to see if Neil is okay, probably because he knows that Neil is harder than that, but his calm demeanor doesn’t soothe any of my worries. In fact, I’m more on edge than before.
Andrew doesn’t like when you touch what’s his.
“Jack,” he says, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I really hope Neil gets his shit together quickly because he’s the only one who can talk Andrew down when he’s like this. I remember last year when Allison hit Aaron. I remember the vicious German spat between them. The others crowd around us and watch on with the exception of Renee who drops to her knees to check on my injured striker.
“This doesn’t concern you, Minyard,” Jack says with a sneer.
“Oh, it very much does concern me,” Andrew retorts. “I have an idea for you. Listen closely, I know you aren’t used to having to use that brain of yours, but I won’t repeat myself and this is going to be my one and only warning. I know you think you have to pretend to be this top shit player because mommy and daddy never loved you enough but you’re not going to get any sympathy for that here.
“You see, Jacky, we’re all fucked up. You being so desperate for attention doesn’t even set my ‘give-a-shit’ radar off one bit. You want to know what does set it off though?” Andrew asks and barely pauses for an answer. “When you touch things that don’t belong to you. You want to get more playing time? You can’t even get past Nicky, our weakest backliner, and if you ever think you’re going to get a ball past me then you’re more delusional than I originally thought. I don’t like delusional people, Jack. They annoy me. I don’t like being annoyed.
“Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go to Coach—who I can see pacing in fear for your life at the benches— and you’re going to tell him I didn’t lay a finger on you. I didn’t even pull out my knives. But the next time you pull this shit? You won’t be able to walk out of this court by yourself. You aren’t good enough to play in a local rec league, let alone in the NCAA, so stop taking it out on Neil because he’s better than you and do something about it.”
I don’t manage to hold my snort back at the blush coating Jack’s pale cheeks as he watches Andrew’s retreating form. Neil is finally able to breathe enough to stand with Renee’s help and we all watch as he slowly follows Andrew to his goal posts.
“He said everything I wanted to say. I don’t care what Coach says. If you can’t score on Andrew by this time next month, I’m benching you the entire second half of the season.”
Jack looks at me, eyes wild with anger, and storms off to the change rooms.
“I thought we were going to have another murder on our hands,” Dan says in a low voice, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
“I didn’t,” Renee adds in her soft, calm voice. “Neil asked Andrew to let him fight his own battles. Andrew would never break that trust. I’m sure he’s apologizing now for overstepping, but I think Neil will find it in his heart to forgive him.”
The rest of my team raise their eyebrows at this overly-sweet and optimistic way of seeing Andrew and Neil’s relationship but I feel my cheeks tense in a sort of smile. I forgot that Renee has a way of understanding the two of them more than I think they even understand themselves.
“Neil has a heart?” Aaron says at the same time Matt says, “Andrew knows how to apologize?” and it’s enough to break the confused tension.
***
By December I’m getting annoyed. Apparently the freshmen found out that Andrew and Neil were Andrew and Neil and they now join in on the constant questions and accusations regarding their relationship.
I also know that the two psychopaths in question know they’re being talked about and choose not to care.
I wish I could also choose not to care but it’s just so damn frustrating to watch people be so blatantly stupid.
It’s this reason that I almost bail on our team bonding movie night (minus Jack and Sheena because fuck them and also minus Aaron because he’d rather bone his girlfriend) but I decide to tough it out last second.
Movie nights are always hit or miss. The issue is that Neil grew up on the literal run and hasn’t seen a single movie that Nicky and Matt deem classics and rather than enjoying them when forced to watch, he chooses to instead pick them apart within an inch of their life.
Obviously Andrew eggs him on.
It’s an unfortunate mixture and Nicky’s indignation can get out of hand but it’s entertaining at the very least.
Either way, now I’m sitting on the couch in Dan, Allison, and Renee’s dorm room next to Neil. Andrew is sitting on his other side looking as bored as ever and the girls, Matt, and Nicky are sprawling across the floor lounging against the beanbag chairs we brought from our dorm.
They’ve clearly already had a discussion about what we’re watching because almost as soon as everyone gets comfortable, the opening credits to some shitty made for TV movie start to play.
It’s a good thing I don’t care to follow along because Nicky and Matt are constantly talking over the movie to the point that it’s no wonder that Neil doesn’t give a shit. We’re about twenty minutes in when I glance over to him—realizing it’s odd how quiet he’s being—and see that he’s fallen asleep, his neck bent sideways and his head resting on the ball of Andrew’s shoulder.
Andrew makes eye contact with me and I know that if I make even a single comment about it he’ll skin me alive, so I turn back to the movie, praying that nobody else turns and sees and makes a big deal out of it.
Except, when I look back, I see Allison and Dan’s curious glances—their brows furrowing like they’re positively confused at the fact that Neil would let his guard down around someone like Andrew.
Truthfully, I can’t understand how they’re confused. Who was the only one willing to choke me out for information in Baltimore? Who willingly stood between Neil and the literal Yakuza? Who trusts Neil enough to let him touch him, even though he’s been burned time and time again?
Andrew Minyard.
Dan’s eyes flit over to mine and I raise my eyebrow. She opens her mouth to say something to me but I shake my head—that would notify Nicky of what’s happening almost immediately—so she rolls her eyes instead and goes back to watching the movie.
Five minutes later I feel Neil wake up and shift so he’s sitting on his own cushion again.
***
I’m just about at my wits end.
We’re well into the new semester and yet my (Dan’s) fucking team still cares more about the mystery of Andrew and Neil, and not enough about exy. I swear to God if we lose first round because of this I will wring their necks.
I’m literally begging for it to end—please, someone save me from this continuous torture, I can’t answer one more question about whether they share a bed or not (nor would I answer it truthfully. That’s none of their business.)
Our entire team, minus the two causing me the most trouble, went out for dinner and are now walking back to the dorms. It’s a nice night out, the sky so clear that even the lights from the city don’t wash out the smattering of stars.
Since leaving the Raven’s, I’ve learned to appreciate the vastness of being outside. I had become so used to being buried and trapped in the Raven’s nest that when I moved to Palmetto, the open spaces made my stomach twist with trepidation. Now I relish in the feeling of being free, the Yakuza and Rico no longer a dog nipping at my heels.
I let a sigh of relief leave me as we come into view of the dorms. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I really do love it here. It’s the first place that’s ever felt like a real home to me.
I’m jerked out of my thoughts with Nicky’s gasp.
“Is that Neil and Andrew?”
Fuck. I should have known they’d be up on the roof rather than enjoying the empty dorm, the fucking weirdos.
“Oh my God, it is!” Allison squeals.
“Aren’t they afraid they’re going to fall?” Matt asks, which—kind of a good question. They’re sitting on the edge with their feet dangling off and looking at them is even giving me vertigo. “Wait, are they holding hands?”
Double fuck.
“Maybe we should give them privacy and just go inside,” Renee suggests from the back of the group. “It’s not nice to spy.”
“Ew! What the fuck? Are they kissing?” Jack spits from behind me and I decide it’s enough. I go to turn around to tell them all to keep moving when I hear a shuffle and a smack.
Aaron hit Jack over the head in warning and is now leading the group to the building entrance. “They’re dating, what the fuck else do you expect? Do you not kiss the girls you date, Jack? I feel bad for them if that’s the case.”
I shrug at Jack’s spluttering and follow Aaron. I never expected him to be the only other person in mine and Renee’s corner but I should have known—he and Andrew have been going to weekly sessions with Bee, after all. Neither of them have given any indication of whether they are working or not, but judging by the protective set of Aaron’s jaw, I’d say they are.
“Wait, like, dating dating? Oh my god they are holding hands! I think I might cry!” Nicky gasps again and I roll my eyes. “Why has nobody told us they’re this cute together?”
“Cute is not the word I’d use,” Jack scoffs.
“Nobody asked you Jack-ass,” Matt responds and then they’re all following me and Aaron inside.
“I hate to admit it,” Dan starts when we’ve made it to our floor. “But I think I’ve misjudged them. They did look cute.”
“Only took you almost a year.” I want to say more but they’re turning to me with accusing eyes.
“Wait,” Allison pauses and holds up a hand. “You’ve known this entire time?”
“I live with them?” I say rather than giving a full explanation because, really, this is a ridiculous conversation.
“You have to tell us everything,” Nicky begs and I decide that enough is enough.
I grab my keys out of my pocket and walk to my door. “Not a chance. Practice is bright and early everyone. If anyone is tired it’s not my fucking fault and I’ll have Coach give you extra laps.”
“Don’t you mean dad?” Allison gets out before I manage to close the door in their faces.
I guess I can take the heat if it means that Andrew and Neil are—for once—out of the fire. Maybe now people will start giving them the privacy they deserve.
I grab my laptop and headphones, and settle in to watch a recorded video of last night’s games—finally able to focus my life back on exy and not about the two who are doing who-knows-what on the roof.
Life is normal again.