Chapter Text
The first time Neil mentions the arcade, no one really reacts. It’s after practice, more muttered to himself than anything. Something about lights and sounds and how the rhythm of the games reminds him of something. Andrew hears it but doesn’t care.
The second time, Neil actually looks at Andrew when he says it. “There’s an arcade near campus. I want to go.”
Andrew shrugs. “So go.”
So Neil goes. And then he keeps going.
At first, no one really questions it. Neil has never been predictable, and if he wants to spend his time somewhere that isn’t the court, no one is going to stop him. But then he starts going a lot. If he’s not at practice, with Andrew or class, he’s at the arcade. He stops by after workouts. He goes late at night when he should be sleeping. He ditches movie nights. He even shows up to practice looking way too awake for someone who claims he just woke up—but when Dan asks, he admits he’s been at the arcade since it opened.
That’s when they start to question it.
“What do you even do there?” Nicky asks, watching Neil, expecting a real answer.
Neil blinks at him. “Play games.”
“I get that,” Nicky says. “But what games?”
Neil shifts slightly. “DDR.”
A pause.
Kevin looks personally offended. “Dancing?”
Neil scowls. “It’s not just dancing. It’s pattern recognition. Timing. Footwork.”
Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You think playing Dance Dance Revolution is making you a better Exy player?”
“I think it’s fun,” Neil says simply.
The lounge goes quiet.
“Fun,” Kevin repeats, disgusted.
“Are we just gonna ignore the fact that our nineteen-year-old teammate has an arcade obsession?” Allison asks, sipping her water like she’s above all of this.
“Guys, come on,” Nicky says. “Neil’s just got an obsessive personality. He does this with everything. It was running before, then Exy, now—" he gestures vaguely. “Beeping lights and loud noises, I guess?”
“It’s nice,” Neil says. “It’s quiet when you focus on the games.”
The Foxes all exchange glances.
Dan sighs. “Look, I guess it’s not the weirdest thing about you, but you know you’re spending an excessive amount of time there, right?”
Neil shrugs. “It’s not excessive if I’m enjoying it.”
Kevin groans. “You could be watching Exy replays!”
“You could be doing anything else,”Aaron mutters.
“Okay, but, Neil, really,” Allison cuts in. “You’re telling me you’re spending all your time at an arcade like some middle school kid?”
Before Neil can answer, Andrew, who has been silent the entire conversation, finally speaks.
“You’re all annoying. It’s none of your business what he does in his free time,” he says flatly.
Kevin glares. “You’re enabling him!”
Andrew raises an eyebrow. “So?”
Kevin scowls, but Andrew doesn’t care.
Neil still goes to the arcade that night, and when he gets back, there’s a protein bar on his pillow. He doesn’t ask, but he knows where it came from.
—
After a week, Andrew starts going with him. Not every time—just sometimes, when everything is too loud or the Foxes are too much. He doesn’t play, just watches, leaning against the machine while Neil moves like he’s weightless, completely absorbed. It’s almost impressive, how focused he gets, how he can clear perfect scores without looking away from the screen.
“You’re ridiculous,” Andrew tells him after watching him breeze through another expert-level song.
Neil, slightly out of breath, grins. “But you still come with me.”
Andrew doesn’t respond, but later that night, there’s an extra bag of tokens in Neil’s jacket pocket.
—
The next time Neil bails on a team hangout to go to the arcade, the Foxes talk about it.
“Okay, I know we’ve already addressed the weird arcade obsession,” Allison says, stretching across the couch, “but are we actually letting this happen?”
“It’s Neil,” Dan says tiredly. “You try stopping him.”
“I think it’s cute,” Nicky says. “Let the boy have his beeping lights.”
“Let him have his obsession,” Matt corrects. “I swear, he’s got one for everything. I caught him watching speedrunning videos the other day.”
Kevin groans. “If it’s not making him better at Exy, then it’s a waste of time.”
“You’re a waste of time,” Andrew says flatly.
Kevin turns to glare at him. “You let him do this!”
Andrew stares at him, unimpressed. “And?”
Kevin throws his hands in the air. “It’s like you want him to be a mockery.”
“He’s not a mockery,” Andrew says. His tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it now, sharp enough that even Nicky shuts up. “If he was, you’d know.”
Kevin clenches his jaw but doesn’t argue.
—
The next time Andrew goes with Neil, he actually watches. Really watches.
Neil doesn’t just play DDR. He studies it. He leans against the machine between rounds, watching other people, tracking patterns. He hums under his breath sometimes, moving his fingers in the air like he’s committing the rhythms to memory. He talks to the guy behind the counter about how the inputs work, how the machine calibrates timing.
Andrew doesn’t say anything, but later that night, he orders Neil a DDR pad for the dorm.
Neil finds it a few days later. He looks at Andrew like he doesn’t know what to say.
Andrew just shrugs. “So you don’t have to leave every time you want to play.”
Neil stares at him for a moment. Then, slowly, he smiles.
Andrew ignores the way his chest feels too tight.