Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Neil Josten’s first real impression of Stuart Hatford wasn’t his easy smile or warm welcome. It was the quiet, steady presence the man exuded, the sort that didn’t demand respect but commanded it anyway. Stuart had the air of someone used to getting what he wanted, but without ever needing to raise his voice. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable—until you remembered who he was.

Neil wasn’t stupid. He knew what Stuart represented. Even in America, whispers of the Hatford family’s power had reached Mary’s paranoid ears. Europe's biggest mafia family, rich beyond belief, and dangerous in ways that few could comprehend. That Stuart Hatford had managed to keep his hands relatively clean, at least publicly—didn’t make Neil feel any safer.

But desperation was a great equalizer, and for the first time in years, Neil wasn’t running.

Stuart didn’t hover. He showed Neil around the sprawling house, pointed out the massive library and the modern kitchen with its marble countertops, and left him to settle in. The house itself was deceptively understated, considering its owner’s wealth. Every piece of furniture was tasteful, but Neil recognized the quiet luxury of it all—custom woodwork, original art hanging on the walls, and a faint scent of lavender that felt both comforting and intentional.

The backyard stretched into an immaculately kept garden with a stone patio and an infinity pool that looked like it belonged in a five-star resort. Beyond the hedge-lined property was a view of rolling hills that felt like something out of a postcard.

Neil spent his first few days trying to blend into the house’s quiet rhythm, but it was impossible to ignore Emma’s energy.

Emma barged into Neil’s room on the third morning, not bothering to knock. She wore an oversized T-shirt that fell to her knees, her hair a mess of strawberry-blonde curls, and an unapologetic grin on her face. “You’re not a morning person, are you?” she asked, dropping onto the edge of his bed.

Neil, who had been contemplating whether he could stomach breakfast, stared at her like she was a wild animal. “What are you doing?”

“Getting to know you,” she said. “Dad says you’re shy, but I don’t buy it. You’ve got that feral look, like a stray cat. All claws and teeth until someone gives you food.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wrong.”

Emma laughed, the sound loud and genuine, and Neil found himself relaxing despite himself. “Good. We’re going out tonight. There’s a party at the Gillinghams’ place. You’ll come with me.”

“I don’t think so.” “Why not?” she challenged, tilting her head. “You don’t like fun?”

“It’s not that—” Neil hesitated.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Relax, Neil. You’re with me now. No one’s going to mess with you, okay.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, as if Emma’s protection was something Neil could take for granted. That kind of confidence should have annoyed him, but instead, it made him curious.

The Gillinghams’ estate was large and lavish, but nothing compared to the Hatfords mansion. The party was everything Neil expected—crowded, loud, and dripping with opulence. Crystal chandeliers reflected the flicker of candlelight, and the champagne flutes were made of actual crystal.

Emma led him through the crowd like she owned the place, stopping occasionally to exchange pleasantries with people who all seemed to know her. Neil noticed the way the other guests looked at her—not just admiration, but deference.

“You’re popular,” Neil said as they found a quiet corner. Emma shrugged, sipping her drink.

“Comes with the territory.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What territory?”

Emma’s grin turned sharp. “Don’t play dumb. You know who we are.”

Neil glanced around, his expression carefully blank. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Okay with what?” she asked, her voice light but her eyes sharp.

“Being part of a family everyone’s scared of.”

Emma tilted her head, studying him. “You’re not scared.”

“I’m not everyone,” Neil said simply.

Emma smiled, leaning back against the wall. “Good. You’ll fit right in.”

Neil quickly learned that life with the Hatfords wasn’t just about fancy parties and tailored suits. It was about power—quiet, undeniable, and ever-present. Stuart never flaunted it, but his influence was woven into the fabric of everything he did.

“You don’t have to worry about money,” Stuart told Neil one evening as they sat in the study. The fire crackled softly, casting warm light over the shelves of books and the glass of whiskey in Stuart’s hand.

“I’m not here for that,” Neil said.

“I know,” Stuart said, smiling. “That’s what makes you different. But you’re part of this family, whether you like it or not. And family takes care of its own.”

Neil didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet.

Emma was relentless in her mission to pull Neil out of his shell. She dragged him to parties, took him shopping for clothes that didn’t look like they’d been salvaged from a dumpster, and introduced him to her friends with an ease that left Neil both impressed and baffled.

“You need a proper suit,” Emma announced one afternoon as they strolled through the high-end boutiques of London. “Something sharp. Dad’ll cover it.”

Neil frowned. “I don’t need a suit.”

“Everyone needs a suit,” Emma argued. “Come on, don’t be stubborn.”

He let her win, partly because it was easier, and partly because her enthusiasm was oddly contagious. When they got back to the house, Stuart raised an eyebrow at the garment bag Neil carried. “Shopping spree?”

“Emma’s idea,” Neil muttered.

Stuart chuckled. “She’s got good taste. I hope she didn’t bully you too much.”

“Define ‘too much,’” Neil said dryly, earning a laugh from both Stuart and Emma.

Over time, Neil found himself settling into the rhythm of life with the Hatfords. Stuart was attentive without being overbearing, always ready to listen but never prying. Emma treated Neil like an equal, never tiptoeing around his scars or his past.

“You’re stuck with us now,” she teased one evening as they lounged on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Neil smirked, exhaling a plume of smoke.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Two Years Later

Neil leaned casually against the bar, dressed in a tailored black blazer that fit him like a second skin. The crisp white shirt beneath was open at the collar, revealing a slim silver chain resting against his collarbone. His orange hair, longer now, was styled in deliberate waves that framed his sharp cheekbones. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward.

Beside him, Emma was gesturing wildly as she recounted a story to a small group of rapt listeners. She wore a red cocktail dress that sparkled in the dim light, her laugh infectious and bright. Neil, as always, played the quieter counterpart to her endless energy, smirking as she embellished her tale for dramatic effect.

Life had changed drastically for Neil in the two years since he’d arrived in England. He wasn’t the same scared little boy. He was a whole new person. His blue eyes were more sharp, more calculating. Neil didn’t use cheap hair dye and didn’t put color contacts anymore. He was proud of his natural features, although it was hard at first he slowly accepted them thanks to Emma.

Emma had wasted no time in dragging Neil into her world—a world of luxury, decadence, and power plays disguised as social events. At first, Neil resisted. He had spent most of his life invisible, blending into the shadows out of necessity. But Emma refused to let him fade.

“You’re not some tragic street rat,” she told him one evening as they stood in front of a mirror in her enormous walk-in closet. “You’re a Hatford. You should look like one.”

The first time Neil wore a tailored suit, he barely recognized himself. The sleek lines accentuated his slim frame, and the dark color made his blue eyes stand out starkly. Emma’s grin had been smug.

“You’re going to break hearts,” she declared.

Neil scoffed, but he couldn’t deny the confidence that came with wearing clothes that fit, that made him feel like he could take on anyone. Over time, his wardrobe transformed. Leather jackets, crisp button-downs, perfectly distressed jeans—each piece chosen with care.

“You’ve got an eye for this,” Emma said approvingly one day as Neil held up a pair of sleek boots.

“I learned from the best,” Neil replied, smirking.

Emma had also introduced Neil to the allure of nightlife. Clubs, underground bars, exclusive parties—she seemed to know everyone worth knowing, and she made sure Neil was by her side every step of the way.

At first, the crowds and noise made Neil’s skin crawl. Too many people, too many eyes. But Emma’s confidence was infectious.

“Stick with me,” she told him, looping her arm through his. “No one will touch you. And if they do, I’ll break their nose.”

She meant it. Neil had seen her deliver a devastating right hook to a guy who got too handsy one night, her fury blazing like fire. After that, Neil started to relax. He learned to navigate the crowds, to wield his sharp tongue and sharper wit to keep unwanted attention at bay.

But he didn’t just want to rely on words. One night, after a particularly tense encounter with a stranger at a club, Neil had turned to Stuart. “Teach me how to fight.” Stuart had raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, his voice steady. “I don’t want to rely on someone else to protect me. I need to know how to defend myself.”

Stuart had nodded, and the next morning, Neil found himself in a private gym on the outskirts of the city. Stuart’s bodyguard—a massive man named Callum—spent hours teaching Neil the basics: footwork, balance, how to throw a proper punch.

At first, Neil’s lean frame and lack of experience made him an easy target, but he was quick, faster than Callum expected. He learned to read his opponent’s movements, to dodge and counter with precision.

“You’ve got potential,” Callum said after Neil landed a solid hit to his ribs during a sparring session. “Stick with this, and you’ll be dangerous.”

Neil stuck with it. He trained every morning, pushing his body until the movements became instinctual.

Despite their wild nights and busy days, Neil and Emma always made time for each other. They were best friends in a way that surprised Neil. He had never let anyone this close before, but Emma had a way of bulldozing through his defenses.

One rainy afternoon, they sat on the floor of Emma’s room, sharing a bottle of wine they weren’t supposed to have. Emma’s music played softly in the background, and they talked about everything and nothing. “

Do you ever think about running again?” Emma asked suddenly.

Neil froze, the question hitting too close to home.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. Emma didn’t look surprised.

“If you ever do, promise you’ll tell me first.” Neil frowned.

“Why?” “Because I’ll come with you,” she said simply.

Neil stared at her, unsure what to say.

“You’re family,” Emma said, her voice quiet but firm. “Family sticks together.”

Neil nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Okay.”

By the time Neil was eighteen, he was almost unrecognizable from the boy who had stood on Stuart’s doorstep two years ago. He carried himself differently—his posture straighter, his chin held high. His eyes were still sharp, but there was a confidence in them now, a spark of defiance that hadn’t been there before.

He was still Neil, but he had learned to navigate the Hatford world with ease. He knew how to charm people when he needed to, how to blend in without disappearing completely. And when blending in didn’t work, he knew how to stand his ground.

Neil sat in the library one evening, flipping through a pamphlet for Palmetto State University. Neil hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, ever since he heart about Kevin Day transfer.

“You’re really considering it?” Emma asked, lounging on the couch with a book in her lap.

“Yeah,” Neil said, running a hand through his hair. “I think I am.”

Emma smiled. “You played before right? I am sure you are still good, just a bit rusty. Nothing a good training wont fix and its not like you havent played in years. And you know Dad will support you.” Neil nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in years, the future didn’t feel like something to fear

Chapter Text

Neil Hatford stared at the screen of his laptop, the muted hum of his playlist filling the room as he mulled over the final question on his Palmetto State University application. It wasn’t that the question was difficult; it just felt strange to be doing something so ordinary.

“Stop looking at it like it’s going to jump out and bite you,” Emma teased from her spot on the couch. She sipped her drink—some concoction she’d mixed herself—watching him with amusement.

“I’m just making sure I don’t sound... predictable,” Neil replied.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. A polyglot Exy star with love for vodka and math? You’re practically a novelty. Besides dad will take care of it if they don’t accept you right away.”

Neil shot her a look but smiled faintly. “I don’t want to get in with Stuarts help. And I doubt my drinking habits will make it onto the application.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t appreciate the vibes,” Emma said with a wink.

With a final glance at the screen, Neil hit submit. The weight on his chest didn’t fully lift, but the small victory brought a sense of satisfaction.

“You’re going to get in,” Emma said, standing and ruffling his hair. “And when you do, you’re celebrating with me, whether you like it or not.”

The letter arrived two weeks later. Neil was pouring over a book on advanced calculus in the study when Stuart walked in with the day’s mail.

“You’ve got something from Palmetto,” Stuart said, holding out the thick envelope.

Neil took it, his pulse quickening. He opened it with care, scanning the text until he saw the word Congratulations.

“Well?” Stuart asked, his voice calm but expectant.

“I got in,” Neil said, a small, genuine smile breaking through.

Stuart’s nod was approving, his expression softening. “Of course you did. Now I only need to talk with the board and David Wymack about putting you on the team.”

Neil nodded in appreciation.

Emma burst into the room moments later, practically squealing when Neil told her the news. “We’re celebrating tonight,” she declared. “Vodka, music, and the best outfits we can find.”

Neil laughed, shaking his head but not arguing.

The weeks before Neil’s departure passed quickly, filled with preparations and Emma’s relentless determination to perfect his wardrobe.

“Palmetto might be in the middle of nowhere, but that’s no excuse to dress like you belong there,” she said, sorting through racks of clothing.

Neil gave her a bemused look. “You’re aware I’ll be spending most of my time in practice clothes, right?”

“That’s no excuse either,” Emma said with a grin, holding up a sleek leather jacket.

By the time she was done, Neil’s suitcase contained an array of well-tailored basics, versatile pieces that gave off an air of effortless sophistication.

On his last night in England, Neil and Emma sat on the balcony overlooking the estate’s sprawling gardens. He nursed a glass of vodka—clean, as usual—while Emma sipped something fruitier.

“You nervous?” she asked, her voice light but probing.

Neil took a sip before answering. “Not about the game. It’s the people.”

“You’ve survived worse,” Emma said firmly. “And remember you’re a Hatford. We don’t break; we adapt.”

Neil smiled faintly. “I’ll try to remember that.”

The drive to Palmetto State University was long and uneventful, the view shifting from bustling cityscapes to quiet highways and finally to the rolling greenery of the South. Neil stepped out of the sleek black car, his duffel bag slung casually over one shoulder. The stillness of the summer campus struck him—there were no swarms of students, only a few scattered figures crossing the paths between buildings.

Most of the visible activity came from athletes, identifiable by their team gear or the equipment they carried. Neil took a moment to take in the scene, his sharp blue eyes scanning the campus before heading toward Fox Tower, the dormitory reserved for members of the Palmetto State Foxes.

Fox Tower was distinct from the other dorms. It was squat and plain, standing out against the prettier campus buildings. Its most notable feature was the stone fox statue near the entrance, mid-pounce with teeth bared and claws extended. The statue looked like it was about to launch itself into battle, an unsubtle metaphor for the team that called this place home.

Neil pushed through the door into the common room, a space dominated by mismatched furniture, a threadbare couch, and a large TV mounted on the wall. The carpet looked like it had seen better days, and the walls were scuffed from years of wear. Despite the lack of charm, the place had a lived-in quality that hinted at its role as a sanctuary for the team.

Neil’s room was on the second floor, and he wasn’t alone. As he opened the door, the smell of laundry detergent and faint cologne greeted him, along with two pairs of curious eyes.

“Neil Hatford?” The speaker was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with an easy smile and a warm demeanor. “I’m Matt Boyd.”

“Neil,” he replied, dropping his duffel onto the bed that hadn’t been claimed.

“And I’m Seth Gordon,” the other guy said, standing by the window with his arms crossed. He was leaner than Matt, with a sharper edge to his expression. “Hope you’re not one of those neat freaks. We don’t do that here.”

Neil shrugged, unimpressed by Seth’s posturing. “As long as there’s room for my stuff, I’m fine.”

The room itself was functional, if anything it looked more like his closet at home. Three twin beds were arranged along the walls, with a desk at the foot of each. There was a single shared wardrobe and a window overlooking the practice courts. Like the common room downstairs, it wasn’t luxurious, but it was enough.

Matt grinned at Neil’s lack of reaction. “You’ll fit in just fine.”

The Foxes’ early arrivals were a mix of personalities. Andrew Minyard, as expected, was cold and suspicious, his unnatural edgy smile made him more unstable. Kevin Day, sitting beside him, maintained a meticulous focus on Exy. Aaron Minyard offered little beyond dry remarks, often aimed at Seth, who bit back with equal ferocity.

On the other side of the team’s divide, the upperclassmen were warmer but cautious. Dan Wilds, the team captain, exuded confidence and authority, while Renee Walker’s quiet kindness was disarming. Matt’s easy-going nature quickly set him apart as someone Neil could rely on, and Allison Reynolds, with her sharp tongue and undeniable charm, didn’t bother hiding her curiosity about him.

Then there was Seth, who was loud, abrasive, and always looking for an argument. Their shared dorm space made Neil hyper-aware of the older boy’s constant mood shifts, but Matt’s ability to defuse tension often kept things from boiling over.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Seth said one night as Neil unpacked a few books onto his desk.

“I talk when there’s something worth saying,” Neil replied without looking up.

Matt laughed, clapping Neil on the shoulder. “Told you he’d be fine, Seth.”

Practices were held twice a day, and Wymack wasted no time putting Neil to the test. The drills were grueling, but Neil thrived in the structure, his speed and precision earning grudging respect from most of the team.

Andrew, however, was not easily won over.

“You’re too polished,” Andrew said one afternoon, his tone flat as always. “Too perfect. What are you trying to get out of it.?”

Neil met Andrew’s gaze, unfazed. “I play Exy. That’s it.”

Andrew’s lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile. “Nobody’s that simple.”

Despite the tension, Neil began to find his rhythm within the team. Renee’s quiet encouragement and Dan’s steady leadership kept things balanced, while Matt’s easy humor made the brutal practices bearable. Even Seth, with all his bluster, started to feel like less of an obstacle and more of a challenge.

Outside of practice, Neil spent his evenings studying or brushing up on the languages he already knew. French, Russian, Spanish, Polish, Italian, and German all came easily to him, thanks to years of moving through different countries and needing to adapt. His fluency sometimes slipped into conversation, surprising his teammates.

“You just casually speak Russian?” Matt asked one evening when Neil muttered a curse under his breath.

Neil shrugged. “You’d be surprised how useful it is.”

“Yeah, if you’re a spy,” Seth muttered, earning a laugh from Matt.

The team’s fractured dynamics became more apparent as the days passed. Andrew’s group—Andrew, Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin—stuck close to one another, their guarded nature setting them apart from the upperclassmen.

“They don’t trust anyone,” Matt explained one evening when Neil asked about it. “Can’t really blame them, but it makes things... complicated.”

Neil didn’t press for details. He had his own secrets, after all.

The divide was most obvious during post-practice hangouts. The upperclassmen would gather in the common room, laughing and sharing stories, while Andrew’s group retreated to their own corner of the Tower or disappeared entirely.

Neil floated between the two groups, observing more than participating. It didn’t take long for him to realize that while Andrew’s mistrust of him was sharp and obvious, the others were starting to warm to him—especially Matt, who seemed to take Neil under his wing in a way that reminded him of Emma.

By the end of the summer, Neil was starting to feel a tentative sense of belonging. His polished demeanor, sharp wit, and undeniable skill on the court had earned him a place among the Foxes, even if he was still figuring out where he fit within their tangled web of alliances.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The first day of classes arrived, and with it came a new rhythm to life at Palmetto State University. The campus, which had been nearly empty just days before, was now teeming with students rushing to their first lectures. The air was thick with nervous energy, yet Neil felt oddly detached. This wasn’t his first time stepping into a new world, and he wasn’t about to be overwhelmed by it.

For the most part, Neil kept to himself. He navigated his classes with the quiet confidence he had honed over the years, his knack for math drawing the attention of his professors. Being multilingual made him an excellent student in most areas, but math was the one subject where he could truly excel without trying too hard. His mind worked like a machine, solving problems with ease.

Still, there were moments when the solitude pressed in on him, when the constant buzz of the campus was a reminder that he was still on the outside looking in.

The Foxes were still a mixed bag of personalities. As the summer practices had shown, there was a divide between Andrew's group and the upperclassmen, but the new semester brought with it an even more complicated dynamic.

Andrew hadn’t warmed even slightly to Neil, it was clear that there was a lingering suspicion. Kevin, on the other hand, was starting to warm up to him in a way that made Neil cautious.

During one of their team meetings, Neil sat across from Kevin at the table. The conversation turned to the upcoming season, but Kevin’s eyes lingered on Neil.

“You smoke?” Kevin asked bluntly, his gaze sharp, though he kept his voice neutral.

Neil had been caught off guard by the question. His cigarette had been smoldering in the ashtray at the edge of the table, but he hadn't thought much of it.

“Is that a problem?” Neil asked, leaning back in his chair, trying to deflect with a casual shrug.

Kevin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes flicked to the cigarette. “You know, it’s not a great look for someone playing a sport.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “I’m not here to look great. I am hero to play Exy.”

Kevin studied him for a moment before nodding. “I get it. Just don’t make it a thing.”

Neil didn’t respond, but he knew one thing for sure: Kevin hadn’t taken kindly to him smoking, and that would likely come back to haunt him later.

The Foxes had their annual pre-season check-ups with Nurse Abby the following week. It was a routine everyone dreaded—not because Abby wasn’t kind, but because her no-nonsense approach to their physical health left no room for excuses.

Neil’s first encounter with Abby had been during a team dinner at the Foxes’ favorite diner. Wymack had dragged Neil along, insisting it was part of the “team-building process.”

Neil had kept to himself most of the evening, watching the chaotic energy of the team from the corner of the booth. Abby had arrived late, taking the seat next to Dan and immediately launching into conversation with the upperclassmen.

She’d noticed Neil almost instantly, her sharp eyes scanning him like she already knew too much.

“You must be Neil,” she’d said, leaning across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Abby. I keep this team in one piece, physically and sometimes emotionally.”

Neil had returned the handshake, unsure of what to say. Abby didn’t press, turning her attention back to her food, but the warmth of her greeting had stayed with him.

Neil waited his turn outside the small office attached to the athletic department. He could hear Nicky’s voice carrying through the door as he cracked a joke to diffuse the tension.

When Neil’s turn came, Abby greeted him with a warm smile. “Neil Hartford,” she said, looking over her clipboard. “I hear you’ve been keeping Wymack on his toes.”

“Not on purpose,” Neil replied with a faint smile.

Abby gestured for him to sit. “Let’s get this over with, then. I assume you’re healthy, but you’re new, so I’m being thorough.”

She started with basic questions—his medical history, allergies, prior injuries—before moving on to the physical examination.

“Take off your shirt,” Abby said, her tone brisk but kind.

Neil froze for a moment, his usual guarded instincts flaring to life. He didn’t like people seeing the evidence of his past, but he knew there was no getting out of it. He pulled his shirt over his head, keeping his gaze averted as Abby stepped closer

Her sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room.

“Oh, Neil,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. Her fingers hovered near the scars that crisscrossed his torso, some faded and others stark against his skin. A burn mark on his side caught her attention, and her hand moved as though she might touch it before she stopped herself.

“These…” Abby’s voice wavered as she looked at him. “These are old.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “How long?”

“Years,” Neil said shortly, trying to sound indifferent. “Most of them, anyway.”

Abby’s throat worked as she tried to suppress her emotions. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stepped back, placing a hand on the counter to steady herself. “I won’t ask who did this to you, but I can guess.”

Neil stayed silent, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You didn’t deserve this,” Abby said firmly, her voice steadier now but still soft. “No one does. You’re not with them anymore, Neil. Do you understand that?”

Neil nodded, though the weight of her words sat heavily in his chest. Abby took a deep breath, visibly composing herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I don’t usually get this emotional. But seeing this—seeing what someone did to you—it makes me so angry. And so sad.” She gave him a small, determined smile. “You’re one of mine now. If you ever need anything, you come to me. No questions, no judgment. Got it?”

Neil nodded again, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

Abby finished the check-up in silence, her movements gentle but efficient. As Neil stood to leave, she placed a hand lightly on his arm.

“You’re strong, Neil,” she said quietly. “But you don’t have to carry everything on your own anymore. Not here.”

He didn’t answer, but the look in her eyes stayed with him long after he’d left the office. He was happy that she didn’t say anything about the scars on his thigh.

Later that evening, after practice, Neil returned to his dorm room at Fox Tower, the usual tension in the air. Seth and Matt had already gone out, as was their usual post-practice routine, leaving Neil with nothing but the fading daylight and the quiet hum of the air conditioner.

He sat at the edge of his bed, a bottle of vodka beside him, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he let his mind wander. The glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room, and for a moment, the world outside seemed far away.

Taking a slow drag, Neil closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. The smoke curled around him, a familiar comfort in the chaos of the new semester. He’d found himself drinking more often lately—more than he usually allowed himself. It was a way to escape, even if only for a little while.

Just as he was about to light another cigarette, his phone buzzed on the bed beside him. He reached over and smiled when he saw Emma’s name on the screen.

“I swear, every time you go quiet, I know you're up to something.”

Neil chuckled softly, swiping to answer. "Just another day in paradise. How’s London?"

“Boring, as usual. Are you still smoking alone in your dorm like the dramatic teenager you are?” Emma’s voice was playful, the kind of teasing only someone who knew you well could get away with.

"Maybe," Neil said, taking a drag from the cigarette, his tone casual. "You know me. I need a little vice now and then."

“I know, I know," Emma said, a small chuckle in her voice. “It’s a weekly tradition, isn’t it? You, me, a drink, and you pretending you don’t miss England more than you let on."

Neil smiled to himself. "It's just a way to pass the time."

“You know, I could fly over for the weekend. We could throw a proper party before you start getting all serious with your team."

Neil laughed, the sound of it filling the empty room. "You’d be the only one actually serious about partying."

“Damn straight," Emma replied. “But hey, just remember that no matter how tough it gets over there, you’re still my favorite pain in the ass. I’ll always be here to listen, okay?”

Neil took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the warmth of the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling. "I’ll remember that. Thanks, Em."

“Anytime, Neil. Just… don’t do anything stupid. And I don’t mean your usual stupid things.”

Neil smiled faintly as he took another sip of his vodka. "Yeah, I know."

“I’ll see you soon, okay? You don’t get to pull that ‘I’m too busy’ excuse on me forever."

“Noted,” Neil said, his voice warm. "Talk soon."

They hung up, and Neil leaned back again, taking a moment to let the conversation settle in his mind. Emma was always a reminder of who he was before all of this—before Palmetto, before the Foxes, and before everything that would define the next few years of his life. He needed her just as much as he needed the quiet solitude of his room and the smoke swirling around him.

The start of the year was everything Neil had expected—and nothing like he’d imagined. Between the pressure of excelling academically and the complicated relationships within the team, he found himself walking a fine line between two worlds.

But as the days passed, the sense of belonging, however tenuous, began to solidify. He wasn’t just a newcomer anymore. He was Neil Hartford, a player on the Palmetto Foxes, and he was ready to make his mark.

Unbeknownst to Neil, Andrew had been watching him more closely as the weeks passed. Though Neil was guarded, Andrew’s ability to read people meant he wasn’t easily fooled.

It wasn’t just Neil’s strange contradictions—his wealth, his ease with languages, his sharp skill at Exy—but also the way Kevin seemed almost protective of him. Kevin rarely took an interest in people, yet he hovered near Neil during practice and grew tense when Neil sparred verbally with others.

One night, Andrew leaned against the wall of the dorm’s hallway, a cigarette burning between his fingers as he watched Neil walk back to his room. He didn’t move or speak, but his calculating gaze followed Neil until the door closed behind him.

 “I’ll find out soon enough who are you Neil Hartford.” Andrew murmured to himself.

Chapter Text

Practice had just ended, the sound of sneakers scuffing against the court floor fading as the players dispersed. Neil lingered at his locker, methodically packing his gear. He was aware of Andrew’s gaze long before the man approached, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck that made it impossible to relax.

“You’re coming to Columbia this Friday.” Andrew said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact.

Neil turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I am?”

Andrew leaned casually against the row of lockers, arms crossed over his chest, his usual smirk in place. “We are going out to a club. I want you there.”

Neil shut his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder, meeting Andrew’s gaze without flinching. “What if I say no?”

Andrew tilted his head, a mocking light entering his eyes. “Then I’ll ask again. Less politely.”

Neil smirked despite himself. “And if I still say no?”

Andrew straightened, stepping closer until he was well inside Neil’s personal space. The look in his eyes was sharp, a reminder of the danger lurking beneath his smile. “You won’t.”

Neil held his ground, refusing to look away. “What’s in it for me?”

Andrew’s smirk widened slightly. “A ride. Company. The pleasure of my charming personality.”

Neil’s lips twitched in amusement. “Tempting.”

“It’s not a request,” Andrew said, his voice dropping an octave. “Be ready.”

With that, Andrew turned and walked away, leaving Neil standing alone in the locker room.

Neil found Dan and Matt in the lounge of Fox Tower, sprawled on the couch after practice. Matt was flicking through channels on the TV, while Dan scrolled through her phone. They looked up as Neil entered, setting his bag by the door.

“Where’ve you been?” Dan asked, tilting her head.

“Talking to Andrew,” Neil said casually, dropping into an armchair. He kept his tone neutral, but he already knew their reaction wasn’t going to be positive.

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Andrew? What does he want with you?”

Neil leaned back in the chair, resting an ankle on his knee. “He wants me to come with him to Columbia tomorrow.”

The change in the room was immediate. Dan straightened in her seat, her phone forgotten, while Matt twisted to face Neil fully. “Come again?” Matt said.

“Columbia. Tomorrow.” Neil repeated.

Dan’s frown deepened. “And you agreed to this?”

Neil shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“That’s bullshit,” Matt said, sitting forward. “You always have a choice. If Andrew’s pulling you into whatever sketchy thing they’ve got going on, you need to say no.”

Neil didn’t reply, watching as Dan and Matt exchanged a worried look. He could see the gears turning in Dan’s head, her concern for him already outweighing any hesitation about interfering with Andrew’s group.

“You do realize how dangerous this is, right?” Dan said, her voice firm. “Going anywhere with Andrew is a risk. And Kevin… Kevin’s not going to stop him if things go south.”

“Andrew’s not going to do anything to me,” Neil said calmly.

Dan let out a short laugh, though it held no humor. “You don’t know that. You barely know him.You didn’t see what happened last year.”  

Neil looked at her, noting her genuine concern. He’d seen this protective streak in the upperclassmen before, but this was the first time it had been directed at him so strongly. It was… strange. Comforting, in a way, though Neil didn’t know what to do with it.

“They go every Friday,” Neil said after a moment. “To go clubbing. It’s not like I’m walking into some underground fight club.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Dan snapped. “It’s Andrew. He could find trouble in a library if he wanted to.”

Matt nodded, crossing his arms. “And don’t even get me started on Aaron. He’s always pissed about something. Add Nicky’s weird energy, and you’ve got the perfect storm for disaster.”

Neil rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to defuse their worry. “I’ll be fine.”

Dan stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You say that now. But if anything happens, Andrew’s not going to have your back.”

“Nicky might, because he think your cute.” Matt offered reluctantly. “But he listens to Andrew. And Andrew listens to… well, no one.”

Neil smirked. “You really think Andrew scares me?”

Dan didn’t laugh. “He should.”

The conversation ended with Dan and Matt still visibly uneasy. As Neil headed back to his dorm, he couldn’t shake their words. They didn’t trust Andrew, and they definitely didn’t trust Kevin or Aaron. But Neil knew he couldn’t avoid the trip, not if he wanted to keep his place on the team secure.

In the end he decided to do one of his favorite things- run. The moon hung low in the sky as Neil made his way around the campus, his sneakers crunching softly on the gravel. Night runs had become a habit for him—a way to burn off excess energy and keep his thoughts from spiraling. But tonight, his feet led him to the back of the stadium, where the glow of lights spilled onto the court. Slowing his pace, Neil approached the fence, his curiosity piqued.

It was Kevin. He was alone on the court, running drills with a focus and intensity that bordered on obsession. . Kevin was hitting ball after ball, his movements fast but strained, and Neil noticed how the way Kevin gripped the racquet with his right hand was unnatural and it made his play slopy.

Neil frowned, stepping closer. That’s when he saw Andrew, perched on the sidelines with a cigarette in hand.

The sight of Andrew watching Kevin so intently gave Neil pause. He stayed hidden in the shadows, observing the pair.

Kevin finished a drill and leaned against his racquet, panting heavily. He reset his position and starting the drill over.

Neil lingered by the sidelines for nearly an hour, watching as Kevin pushed himself to the brink. Sweat dripped from his face, his movements sharp but increasingly unsteady. He was relentless, punishing himself with every strike of the ball.

Neil had been watching from the sidelines for nearly an hour, seeing Kevin push himself to the limit. Sweat was pouring down his face, his movements sharp but growing increasingly unsteady. Every swing of the racquet seemed to punish his body, but he didn’t relent.

Finally, Neil stepped onto the court.

Kevin froze, his body going rigid as his eyes locked onto Neil. His expression shifted instantly into a cold glare. “What are you doing here?”

Neil didn’t flinch. He crossed his arms, stance unyielding. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Andrew shifted his gaze to Neil. He didn’t move, but the subtle change in his posture—his stillness, the sharpness in his eyes—told Neil everything he needed to know: he was watching, waiting. Ready for anything. Interesting, Neil thought.

Neil’s eyes never left Kevin. His voice was calm but cut through the air with the precision of a blade. “You know, when I heard about your skiing accident, I thought, how could Exy star Kevin Day be so careless? But there’s more to the story, right?” His tone wasn’t a question—it was a statement, daring Kevin to deny it.

Kevin’s expression tightened, but he didn’t immediately respond. The walls went up, his face a mask of indifference. But Neil saw the flicker—something sharp behind those eyes. Surprise? Annoyance? Maybe both. Kevin stared back, weighing his options as if deciding whether to reveal anything at all.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Neil’s gaze dropped to Kevin’s left hand, lingering there, unblinking. He let the silence linger a moment longer before he spoke again, his voice a shade colder. “I saw the X-ray of your left hand. If it was really a skiing accident, the break wouldn’t have been so clean. That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

There it was—another layer of the truth hanging between them, daring Kevin to face it.

Andrew’s mocking voice broke the tension, too light, too sharp. “Five points for the detective.”

Neil didn’t even glance at him, keeping his focus on Kevin. Andrew’s taunt only made the air heavier, more oppressive.

Kevin’s jaw clenched. His hand instinctively tightened around the racquet, and for a moment, Neil wondered if he was about to lash out. But Kevin stayed silent. The look in his eyes was colder now, calculating.

“Answer me, Kevin,” Neil pressed, his voice quiet but laced with something dangerous. “Who did this to you?”

Kevin’s voice was quieter than usual when he finally spoke. “Riko. He broke my hand.”

“How did that happened?” Neil asked, his voice steady but full of quiet curiosity.

Kevin let out a slow breath and lowered the racquet, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

“We were supposed to play against each other, but he couldn’t handle the fact that I let him win.”

Neil’s mind raced, the weight of Kevin’s revelation settling heavily in his chest. What he didn’t understand was how Riko was still alive. Riko hadn’t just broken Kevin’s hand; he had taken something far more valuable—Kevin’s future, his career, and the potential to bring the Moriyamas millions of dollars.

“So the ski accident was just a cover-up,” Neil murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked toward Kevin, watching for any sign of defiance, any flicker of hope. “How do you plan to get back at him?”

Andrew’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and cold. “He won’t.”

Neil whipped his head around to face Andrew, the sudden venom in his tone catching him off guard. Andrew’s face remained unreadable, but the sharpness in his voice was unmistakable. The words hit Neil harder than expected.

“He’s too much of a coward to do anything.”

For a moment, the world seemed to slow. Neil stared at Andrew, stunned. The silence between them was thick, charged with something darker, something Neil hadn’t anticipated. The look in Andrew’s eyes was clear—he was speaking a truth that hung heavily in the air, and Neil couldn’t deny the bitter weight of it.

Kevin’s shoulders tensed again, the muscles beneath his shirt tightening as if he were bracing for impact. For an instant, Neil thought Kevin might finally lash out, that he might snap and do something—anything—to break free. But instead, Kevin’s expression hardened, and without a word, he walked toward the fence. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost as if he were dragging himself through water.

As Kevin passed by him, Neil couldn’t help but notice that Kevin’s eyes never met his. He didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge him. It was like Kevin had become invisible to everyone but himself, lost in a world where silence was his only defense.

Neil stood still, watching Kevin fade into the darkness, his silhouette swallowed by the night. In that moment, everything became clear. Kevin wasn’t just playing Exy anymore. He wasn’t even playing for himself. He was living in a world where the Moriyamas held all the power—their money, their connections, their violence. Kevin was a pawn, forced to move within the confines of their control. A puppet with invisible strings, his every move dictated by a force far stronger than his will.

Kevin wasn’t staying silent because he wanted to. It wasn’t out of weakness—it was survival. He didn’t speak because he didn’t have the power to speak. He didn’t have the choice. The weight of that truth pressed down on Neil, the realization sinking deep into his bones.

Kevin wasn’t free—not in the way Neil had hoped. Neil had thought there was a chance, a spark of rebellion, of defiance in Kevin. But that was a naive fantasy. Kevin was trapped. Trapped by people who controlled him with fear, violence, and the weight of their influence.

And Andrew—Andrew’s protectiveness over Kevin wasn’t just about team dynamics. It wasn’t about strategy or leadership. It was about survival.

With a deep breath, Neil turned away, the cool night air biting at his skin as it filled his lungs. His thoughts were clouded, disjointed, but one thing was clear- Riko wont get away with this, not when he was here.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the court as Friday's afternoon practice came to an exhausting end. Neil wiped the sweat off his brow, ignoring the ache in his muscles as Wymack blew the final whistle.

"Good enough," Wymack barked. "Get out of here and don't come back until Monday. Unless you’re Kevin, who I expect to see bright and early tomorrow morning."

Kevin didn’t look up from where he was resetting cones, but Neil caught the faint twitch of his lips, something that might have been satisfaction.

As Neil gathered his things, he noticed Nicky walking toward him, a grin plastered on his face and a large shopping bag swinging from his hand.

"Hey, Neil!" Nicky called, waving the bag in the air.

Neil raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

Nicky shoved the bag into his hands with an exaggerated flourish. "A little gift from Andrew. Well, technically from Andrew’s wallet. He says you can’t embarrass us tonight looking like some lost college kid."

Neil looked into the bag, his brows knitting together as he pulled out an outfit that felt nothing like him—a sleek black shirt, black tight jeans, and a leather jacket.

"I have clothes," Neil said flatly, holding the jacket up for inspection. "I don’t need this."

"Sure, you do," Nicky replied, undeterred. "Andrew’s orders. Besides, you want to fit in with the cool crowd, right? Think of it as camouflage. No one will question why you’re with us."

Neil considered arguing but sighed and shoved the bag under his arm. "Fine. Anything else?"

"Yeah," Nicky said, pointing at him with mock seriousness. "Be outside your dorm at nine sharp. If you make us wait, Andrew will probably come and gets you, and trust me, that’s not a fun way to start the weekend."

Back in his dorm, Neil placed the bag on the bed and stared at the outfit for a moment. The pieces were nice, sure, but they weren’t him. He wasn’t about to let Andrew or anyone else-expect Emma-dictate what he wore. Instead, Neil dug through his own wardrobe, pulling out a black button-up shirt with a subtle pattern, slim-cut jeans, and a dark blazer. The outfit was similar enough to the one Andrew had chosen, but it felt more his style.

For a finishing touch, Neil reached for a designer bag he’d kept tucked away—a gift from his uncle during one of their shopping trips in London. The brand was unmistakably high-end, but the sleek design didn’t scream wealth. It was understated, elegant.

Satisfied, Neil checked the clock. With a few minutes to spare, he stepped out onto the balcony to smoke, letting the quiet calm his nerves.

By nine o’clock, Neil was leaning against the wall outside Fox Tower, a cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air as footsteps approached.

The first to arrive was Nicky, who stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Neil. "Holy—Neil, you clean up good!" he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "Don’t let me drink too much tonight."

Aaron rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Whatever. I don’t want to deal with him."

"But seriously, that bag? Classy. You trying to make us all look bad?" Nicky said, grinning as he gave Neil a once-over.

Kevin arrived next, his gaze immediately narrowing on the cigarette in Neil’s hand. "That’ll ruin your stamina," he said, his tone clipped.

Neil raised an eyebrow, blowing out another puff of smoke. "Noted."

Andrew was last to arrive, his sharp eyes taking in Neil’s outfit. He didn’t say anything at first, but after a moment, he tilted his head. "You didn’t wear it."

Neil shrugged. "I figured I’d make my own impression."

Andrew sarcastically said. "Great. That’s money I won’t get back."

Nicky drove, his usual upbeat energy filling the car as they headed toward Columbia. Neil was sandwiched in the back seat between Andrew and Aaron, which wasn’t exactly ideal, but he endured it in silence.

About halfway there, Nicky glanced at Andrew in the rearview mirror. "Hey, Andrew, where’s the exit to Wafflehouse again?"

Andrew didn’t respond. He was leaning against the window, his eyes closed.

Aaron groaned. "You want me to wake him up?"

"Yes, please," Nicky said, his voice sugary sweet.

Aaron reached over and gave Andrew a rough nudge. Andrew’s reaction was instant and violent—his elbow shot out, catching Neil squarely in the stomach.

Neil doubled over with a grunt, clutching his ribs as the air left his lungs. "Jesus," he wheezed.

Andrew blinked awake, his expression unfazed. "Oops."

Aaron rolled his eyes. "Nice going, Andrew. You just knocked the wind out of him."

Andrew didn’t apologize. Instead, he looked at Neil with a faint smirk. "You’ll live."

Nicky glanced back, a mix of concern and amusement on his face. "You okay back there, Neil?"

Neil straightened up, forcing a breath back into his lungs. "Fine," he said, shooting Andrew a glare.

Sweetie’s was a small but busy diner tucked away on one of Columbia’s side streets. They found a booth near the back, with Kevin and Aaron on one side and Neil squeezed between Nicky and Andrew on the other.

Nicky ordered the ice cream special, grinning as the server brought over a tray piled high with scoops of every flavor imaginable. But it wasn’t the ice cream that caught Neil’s attention—it was the dozen small packets of yellow powder scattered among the napkins.

Andrew didn’t hesitate. He reached across the table and pocketed a few packs, his movements casual but deliberate.

"Really?" Nicky said, giving him a pointed look. "In the middle of a restaurant?"

Andrew ignored him, popping open one of the packets and pouring the powder into his mouth.

Nicky groaned, throwing up his hands. "You’re impossible."

Andrew didn’t say anything.

Neil watched the exchange in silence, filing away the details. Cracker dust, a non-addictive drug, seemed to be Andrew’s go-to. The casual way he used it spoke volumes, but Nicky’s reaction suggested it wasn’t a new habit.

As they dug into the ice cream, Neil couldn’t help but feel the subtle currents of tension at the table. Andrew’s group was a minefield of secrets and sharp edges, and tonight was just another reminder that he was navigating dangerous territory.

The car pulled to a stop in front of Eden’s Twilight, the club’s neon sign casting a garish glow across the street. Even from the parking lot, the bass-heavy beat of the music thrummed in Neil’s chest, an incessant pulse that matched the restless energy of the crowd gathered outside.

The line to get in snaked down the block, a mix of college students and locals decked out in everything from sleek black dresses to ripped jeans and leather jackets. The bouncer at the door was a hulking man with a shaved head and tattoos creeping up his neck, his sharp eyes scanning IDs with practiced efficiency.

Andrew didn’t bother with the line. He led their group straight to the entrance, cutting through the crowd with the kind of authority that turned heads and silenced complaints. The bouncer barely glanced at them before waving them in, his recognition of Andrew evident in the brief nod they exchanged.

Inside, Eden’s Twilight was a chaotic symphony of flashing lights, pounding music, and writhing bodies. The dance floor was packed, a sea of people moving in time with the DJ’s relentless beat. Overhead, strobes and colored lights cast fragmented patterns across the room, while the faint haze of smoke and sweat hung heavy in the air.

The bar stretched along one wall, a gleaming expanse of polished wood and chrome where bartenders worked with quick precision. Against the far wall, a raised platform housed a scattering of plush couches and low tables, reserved for VIPs.

Neil’s eyes flicked to Andrew, whose expression was as blank as ever. Andrew’s group moved with practiced ease, navigating the crowded space as if it were second nature.

"Welcome to paradise," Nicky said with a grin, slinging an arm over Neil’s shoulders.

"Some paradise," Neil muttered, his gaze sweeping the room.

Andrew led them toward the bar, his diminutive stature doing nothing to diminish the space he commanded while Aaron, Nicky and Kevin took out to get a table.

The dim lighting of Eden’s Twilight painted the bar in streaks of purple and blue, casting a surreal glow on the patrons clustered around it. Andrew and Neil wove their way through the throng of people, Andrew’s presence parting the crowd with practiced ease. The bartender looked up as they approached, his sharp features breaking into a smile that seemed equal parts charming and calculating.

“Andrew,” Roland greeted, his voice carrying over the low thrum of music. His eyes flicked to Neil, and his smile widened. “And who’s this?”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “Nobody,” he said flatly, brushing off the question as if Neil weren’t standing right beside him.

Roland chuckled, undeterred. He leaned over the bar, his gaze lingering on Neil. “Well, ‘Nobody,’ you’re a sight for sore eyes. What can I get you?”

Neil tilted his head, debating for a split second whether he should stick to water. But the mood of the night—and his growing defiance—pushed him in another direction. “Vodka with lime. Ice too.”

Roland whistled low, clearly amused. “Classy. I like it.” He turned to Andrew. “The usual?”

Andrew gave a curt nod. Roland moved with efficient speed, preparing their drinks and sliding them across the counter with a wink at Neil. “Enjoy, Nobody.”

Neil ignored the flirtation, taking his drink and following Andrew back to the table the others had claimed. The space was tucked into a corner, offering a view of the dance floor and the bar. Nicky was already half a drink in, chatting animatedly with Aaron, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Kevin sat stiffly, his gaze flicking between the crowd and the drink in his hand.

Neil settled into his seat, sipping his drink as Andrew distributed small yellow packets from his pocket—cracker dust, unremarkable in appearance but infamous in reputation. Andrew split the packets evenly, sliding them to each person at the table.

When Andrew tried to push one Neil’s way, he shook his head. “Pass.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the issue. Kevin, on the other hand, barely batted an eye as he opened a packet and mixed it into his drink. Neil watched with muted irritation, the sight of Kevin’s hypocrisy grating. Kevin spent his days lecturing Neil about his health and habits, yet here he was, drinking and taking drugs without a second thought.

After a beat of silence, Nicky leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Come on, Neil. Dance with me.”

Neil blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Nicky replied, already standing and holding out a hand. “You don’t come to a place like this just to sit around.”

Neil hesitated, then shrugged. “Why not?”

They made their way to the dance floor, slipping into the crush of bodies. The music was a steady, pounding rhythm, and Neil let himself get lost in it, his movements loosening as he matched Nicky’s energy. For a moment, he forgot about the tension at the table, the questions hanging over his head, and the ever-present weight of Andrew’s watchful gaze.

When they returned, Aaron was gone, his seat empty. “Where’d he go?” Neil asked, gesturing to the vacant chair.

“Dancing,” Nicky said with a laugh. “Guess we inspired him.”

Neil glanced toward the dance floor but didn’t spot Aaron in the crowd. He sank back into his seat, draining the rest of his drink as Kevin leaned toward Andrew.

“I want another,” Kevin said.

Andrew sighed but stood, motioning for Neil to follow. Neil rolled his eyes but complied, his drink already long gone.

Back at the bar, Roland greeted them with another easy smile. “Back for more?”

“Two of the same,” Andrew said.

Roland didn’t ask questions, swiftly preparing their drinks. This time, Andrew didn’t bother waiting for Neil as he turned and walked back to the table. Neil followed, taking a sip as he sat down.

The bitterness hit him first, sharper than it should have been. His stomach churned, and his vision blurred slightly. Neil set the glass down, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. He pushed to stand, but his knees wobbled, and he clutched the edge of the table for balance.

Andrew was there in an instant, his hand gripping Neil’s arm with surprising strength. “Sit down.”

“No,” Neil said, his voice strained. He pulled free and stumbled toward the exit, shoving past people as the edges of his vision darkened.

Outside, the cool air hit Neil like a slap, but it wasn’t enough to clear his head. He staggered into the alley beside the club, leaning against the wall to steady himself. Before he could catch his breath, Andrew was there, his figure sharp against the shadows.

Andrew shoved Neil back against the wall, a flash of silver in his hand catching the dim light. The cold edge of a knife pressed against Neil’s throat, and his pulse spiked.

“Who are you really?” Andrew asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Are you here for Kevin? For Riko?”

Neil glared at him, his thoughts sluggish but his resolve unshaken. “You’re insane.”

“Answer the question,” Andrew snapped, pressing the blade closer.

Neil’s temper flared. “You think I’d waste my time spying for Riko? I don’t know what to call you-stupid or paranoid? You know I will say paranoid to not crush your little fantasy.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the knife tightened.

With a surge of adrenaline, Neil kneed Andrew in the stomach, the impact forcing him to stumble back. Neil didn’t wait for a reaction—he bolted. But the drugs in his system slowed him down, and he barely made it a few steps before his vision swam.

He tripped, slamming into the wall before collapsing to the ground. Darkness claimed him before he could hear Andrew’s approach.

Chapter Text

Neil woke to the sound of soft breathing beside him. Disoriented, he sat up quickly, his heart racing. A glance to his right revealed Nicky sprawled out on the bed, his mouth slightly open as he slept. Memories of the previous night came rushing back in pieces—Eden’s Twilight, the drinks, Andrew’s knife, and the sudden blackout.

His pulse quickened as he realized he wasn’t in his dorm or anywhere familiar. The room was small, sparsely furnished, with a faint smell of disinfectant that reminded him of a hospital or clinic. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet touching the cool hardwood floor, and quietly stood. His head throbbed, but he pushed the discomfort aside as he crept toward the door.

Neil cracked open the door carefully, muscles coiled with lingering exhaustion. Outside, Andrew sat in a chair, legs stretched out like he had all the time in the world. A cup of coffee rested in one hand, the steam curling lazily into the air. His smirk was already in place, like he’d been waiting for this moment.

“Good morning,” Andrew drawled, taking a slow sip. Then, with a glance at the clock, he amended, “Or rather, good afternoon.” His gaze raked over Neil, unreadable but deliberate.

Neil’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 1:00 p.m. His stomach twisted. He clenched his fists, fury bubbling up, waking him faster than any coffee could.

“What the hell were you thinking, drugging me last night?” His voice was sharp, cutting. “If you wanted answers about why I’m here, you could have just asked, you asshole.”

Andrew tilted his head, utterly unfazed. “Relax. You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the damn point, shitface.” Neil snapped.

Andrew barely reacted. Instead, he stood, tossing a bundle of clothes at Neil with effortless precision. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Change, shower, whatever. You smell like vodka and poor decisions.”

Neil caught the clothes with an annoyed huff, his grip tightening around the fabric. His patience was razor-thin. “Where’s my bag?”

Andrew didn’t even hesitate. He gestured lazily toward the kitchen table. “You’ll get it back when we’re at Palmetto.” His voice was flat, final. He turned away without another glance, disappearing into another room and shutting the door behind him.

Neil stared after him, a curse slipping under his breath. Arrogant bastard.

With a sharp exhale, he padded into the kitchen, scanning the table. Sure enough, his bag sat exactly where Andrew had said. He unzipped it, fingers quick but careful. His phone was still inside. That was all he really needed.

Neil smirked. Andrew really was dumb enough to tell him where his bag was.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, he grabbed the bundle of clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Andrew wanted to play games? Fine. But Neil wasn’t about to play by his rules.

The shower helped clear Neil’s head, the hot water washing away the remnants of the night. Dressed in the clothes Andrew had provided—a plain T-shirt and jeans—he stepped out of the bathroom with a plan forming in his mind.

Feeling a desire for revenge, Neil took his sweaty, crumpled clothes from the previous night and stuffed them into the toilet. It took some effort, but he made sure the pipes were thoroughly clogged before flushing several times for good measure.

Satisfied, he opened the bathroom window, climbed out and dropped to the ground below. Neil got as far away from the house as he possibly could then he pulled out his phone and dialed Stuart, who answered on the second ring.

“Neil?” Stuart’s voice was sharp with concern. “Something’s wrong?”

“I need a ride back to Palmetto,” Neil said, keeping his tone calm despite the storm brewing inside him. “And maybe a plane to England while you’re at it.”

“What happened?” Stuart demanded. “Are you hurt? Do I need to kill someone?”

Neil allowed himself a small smile. “I’m fine. Just... a bad night. I don’t need you to kill anyone—yet. Can you send a car?”

“Consider it done, just send me your location.” Stuart said, his tone dark. “Stay put.”

Neil shared his location and waited, silently planning what he should do. Should he let his anger take control or should he be rational and about this.

As promised, a limousine pulled up an hour later, sleek and black, attracting curious stares as Neil climbed inside. He sank into the plush leather seat, leaning his head back as the driver set a course for Palmetto State University.

Halfway through the ride, his phone buzzed. Emma’s name flashed on the screen.

He answered, and her voice came through sharp and furious. “What the hell happened last night? Dad told me something had happened. What did those bastards did?!”

“Calm down,” Neil interrupted, though he couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips.

“Calm down?!” Emma snapped. “Neil, they drugged you! I’ll fly out there myself and first burn that club to the ground and then I’ll kill one twin and make the other eat him. I will-”

Neil let her rant for a moment before cutting in. “Emma, it’s fine. I’ll handle it. Besides, I already got some petty revenge.”

That caught her attention. “What did you do?”

“Clogged their toilet.”

There was a beat of silence before Emma burst into laughter, the tension in her voice easing. “Of course you did. That’s my cousin.”

They talked for the rest of the drive, Emma’s sharp wit and fierce loyalty grounding Neil in a way nothing else could.

By the time the limousine pulled up to Palmetto’s campus, Neil felt marginally better. He stepped out, ignoring the curious glances from a few passing students. The car door closed behind him, and he straightened his shoulders, ready to face whatever came next.

Whatever Andrew’s game was, Neil would make sure he didn’t win.

Earlier the same day

Andrew came back from the supermarket to find Aaron pacing back and forth in the living room, muttering curses under his breath. Nicky was perched on the couch, flipping through his phone with a frown. Kevin sat in a chair, staring at his hands like they held the answers to life’s mysteries.

“Where’s Hartford?” Andrew asked.

Aaron stopped mid-step and shot him a glare. “Gone. You drugged him, remember? What did you think was going to happen?”

Andrew’s smirk was lazy and unapologetic. “He did seem like the type to run.”

“You think?!” Aaron snapped. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Andrew replied, his tone light but his eyes hard, “that we don’t know who he really is. I was making sure he wasn’t a problem.”

Nicky groaned. “Andrew, you can’t just drug people. Dont you remember what happened last year?”

Andrew shrugged and sat down across from Kevin, his hands steepled in front of him.

Kevin finally looked up, his face a mixture of irritation and concern. “You have no idea where he went, do you?”

“Not yet,” Andrew said, unbothered. “But he’ll turn up.”

Aaron threw his hands up. “Unbelievable.”

An hour later, Kevin left for a solo run, grumbling about wasted time and missed practices. Nicky was in the kitchen brewing another pot of coffee when Aaron called out in frustration from the bathroom.

“What now?” Nicky asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Aaron pointed at the toilet, which was overflowing with water and bits of fabric. “This. He clogged the damn toilet.”

Nicky stared at the mess for a second before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God. Neil did this? That’s... that’s iconic.”

Aaron glared at him. “It’s not funny. Do you know how much this is going to cost to fix?”

“Worth it,” Nicky said, grinning.

Andrew appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He surveyed the scene, his sharp gaze taking in the soaked floor and the ruined plumbing. “Petty,” he murmured, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“That’s it?” Aaron said, throwing his arms out. “You’re not even mad?”

Andrew shrugged. “I would’ve done the same.”

“You’re both insane,” Aaron muttered, stalking out of the bathroom.

Nicky wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “Honestly, I like him even more now.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Monsters regrouped in the living room. Andrew had returned to his usual post on the arm of the couch, while Nicky and Aaron sat at opposite ends, scrolling through their phones.

“Think he’ll come back?” Nicky asked, breaking the silence.

“He will,” Andrew said with quiet certainty.

Aaron snorted. “And when he does?”

Andrew’s smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “We’ll see.”

Nicky looked between them, his smile fading. “You guys seriously need to figure out how to not scare him off. Neil’s not like us, okay? He’s got... something different going on. And we need him.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but his fingers drummed softly against his thigh.

Whatever Neil Hartford’s game was, Andrew planned to figure it out—and if it involved Kevin, all the better.

The Monsters entered Fox Tower just as midnight rolled in. Andrew’s expression was impassive, but the others were tense. Aaron’s scowl deepened with every step, while Nicky fiddled anxiously with the hem of his shirt.

As they stepped off the elevator into the lounge, they found the upperclassmen waiting. Dan and Matt stood in the center of the room with their arms crossed, their eyes sharp and questioning. Seth leaned against the wall, looking half-bored, while Renee sat quietly on the couch, her hands folded on her lap. Wymack stood nearby, arms crossed and expression thunderous.

“Where’s Neil?” Wymack barked.

“He left,” Andrew replied flatly, heading straight for the kitchen as if nothing was amiss.

“Left?” Wymack growled. “What the hell do you mean ‘left’? What did you do, Minyard?”

“Why do you think I did anything?” Andrew asked, reaching for a drink from the fridge.

“Because you’re you,” Matt interjected, his voice rising. “What happened?”

Nicky sighed and slumped into a chair. “He ran off after Andrew drugged him.”

“You drugged him?” Dan’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “Are you insane?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “No, he’s just Andrew.”

“Why?” Seth asked, looking at Andrew like he’d lost his mind.

Andrew finally turned to face them, his tone as flat as his expression. “Don’t worry. It was just a pack of crakerdust”

“And you think this makes it better?” Dan asked incredulously.

Renee said nothing, but the disapproval in her gaze was clear. She held Andrew’s eye for a moment before glancing away, silently reinforcing the boundaries of their unspoken deal.

Before the argument could escalate further, Wymack’s phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen with a frown before answering.

“Wymack here.”

The room fell silent as Wymack’s eyes widened slightly. “Yes” he said into the phone. “What happened?”

The voice on the other end spoke sharply, and Wymack’s brows furrowed deeper. “I’ll handle it,” he said firmly. “No need to intervene right now. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

After another pause, Wymack sighed. “Thanks for calling. Let me know if anything changes.”

He hung up and turned back to the team. “That was Neil’s—” He stopped, reconsidering his words. “That was someone making sure Neil was okay. He’s already back in Palmetto.”

“How?” Nicky asked. “We were in Columbia.”

Wymack glared at Andrew. “I don’t know, but this is your mess to fix, Minyard. If you scare him off, I’ll have your head.”

The door to the dorm opened abruptly, and Neil stepped in. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him. He was freshly showered, dressed in simple clothes, and carrying himself with his usual quiet confidence.

He didn’t spare anyone a glance. “Stuart called. He says you’re staying here, but that I should keep an eye on these morons,” he said, glaring at the Monsters. “Apparently, Stuart’s considering flying out to deal with it himself.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Neil said, finally turning to face Andrew. His tone was cold, and his eyes burned with restrained anger. “We’re fine. Aren’t we, Andrew?”

Andrew smirked. “Perfectly.”

Neil rolled his eyes and looked back at Wymack. “I’ll handle this myself.”

Once Neil left the room, muttering something about needing air, the upperclassmen exploded.

“You’re a psychopath,” Dan said, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. “Do you realize what you just did?”

“Neil’s been nothing but decent to us,” Matt added, stepping forward. “You don’t pull this crap on your teammates.”

“Neil isn’t your enemy,” Renee said quietly, her calm voice cutting through the noise. “You don’t trust easily, but neither does he. If you push him like this, he’ll push back.”

Andrew said nothing.

The atmosphere in the Fox Tower was oddly quiet the morning after .By the time breakfast came around, everyone had gathered in the cafeteria, the quiet murmur of conversation stopping when Wymack entered the room. He didn’t need to say a word. The sharp, silent look he gave the group was enough to make everyone sit up straight.

And then came the inevitable.

“Andrew. Neil. My office. Now.”

Andrew didn’t bother to glance at anyone as he stood up and made his way to Wymack’s office. Neil followed behind him with his usual nonchalance, but even he couldn’t deny the weight of the eyes on him as he passed by the rest of the team.

The moment the door to Wymack’s office closed, it was as though the room was filled with electricity.

Andrew took a seat in front of the desk, staring blankly at Wymack. Neil, for his part, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, appearing unaffected but not entirely comfortable with the situation.

“You both put the team at risk,” Wymack sayed, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “Not just last night, but everything leading up to it.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What risk? It’s not like I didn’t handle myself.”

Wymack’s expression darkened. “And what if you hadn’t? Do you think Andrew’s behavior is normal?”

Andrew finally spoke, his voice cold. “What’s done is done. It’s not like anyone got hurt.”

Neil clenched his jaw at the comment but didn’t respond. Wymack, however, wasn’t buying it.

“Not this time, Andrew,” he snapped. “You’ve crossed a line, and so has Neil. You can’t just drag him into your mess and expect there to be no fallout.”

Andrew didn’t flinch. His gaze remained as steady as ever.

“We’ll deal with it,” he muttered, dismissing Wymack’s concerns with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t think you understand,” Wymack’s voice softened slightly. “This isn’t just about you two. It’s about the whole damn team. You’re creating a circus.”

At this, Neil finally spoke up, his voice low and cutting. “You think this is a circus?” He pushed off the wall, his posture shifting to something more imposing. “You think I don’t know what’s going on here? I get it. You don’t trust me. But you don’t trust Andrew either, do you?”

Wymack paused at that, his eyes narrowing. It was a question no one had dared to ask before, not outright. But Neil’s words hit closer to the truth than anyone wanted to admit. The tension in the room grew, thick and palpable.

“You’re damn right I don’t,” Wymack finally admitted. “But at least I know what I’m working with when it comes to Andrew. You? I’m still figuring you out.”

The silence that followed was thick, and Neil could feel the weight of Wymack’s words sinking in. He wasn’t wrong, though. Neil hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with anyone, not even Andrew. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was the way Andrew had acted last night. The way he’d nearly pushed Neil past his limits—again. And that, Neil knew, was something they were both going to have to address eventually.

“I’ll deal with it,” Andrew repeated, his tone still cold but carrying a hint of something else. A promise, maybe. But something more personal, too.

Wymack eyed him for a moment before exhaling sharply. “I don’t care how you do it, but you’ll fix this. The team needs to come first. Whatever the hell you two think you’re doing needs to be put on hold for the good of the group.”

Andrew simply nodded, as though Wymack had just given him a task to finish. And Neil, as always, said nothing.

After the meeting, Andrew and Neil left Wymack’s office, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud. As they returned to the Fox Tower, the team was gathered in the common area, waiting for them. The tension was palpable, but everyone was careful to keep their distance. No one wanted to be the first to speak up.

Renee was the first to break the silence, though she said nothing aloud. Instead, she gave Andrew a look—a silent, disappointed look that said everything without a single word. Andrew didn’t flinch. He met her gaze and didn’t back down, but there was something about the way she looked at him that made him pause.

Renee had always been an ally, someone who kept things running smoothly between the upperclassmen and the younger players. She kept the peace, kept Andrew’s back. But now, Andrew could tell, there was something else in her gaze. A quiet disapproval that he wasn’t used to seeing from her.

Matt and Seth exchanged uneasy glances but remained silent. Neither of them had the guts to speak up—though Matt did subtly glance at Neil, as if asking if he was okay. But Neil gave him nothing, just a look that told him he wasn’t about to start a conversation.

Kevin stepped forward, his expression hard as steel.

“I don’t know what the hell were you thinking last night,” he said, voice tight with concern, “but I don’t like it, Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t even blink. “You don’t like it? Tough. No one’s asking for your opinion.”

Kevin took a step closer, his jaw clenched. “You’re not the only one who has to worry about this team.”

“it’s not your problem to fix,” Andrew shot back.

“You’re playing with fire, Andrew,” Kevin said, voice low, but not without conviction.

And in that moment, it was clear that Andrew’s trust in Neil—and Neil’s trust in Andrew—was far from the only rift threatening to tear apart the team.

In the days that followed, the tension between the upperclassmen and the younger players grew. It wasn’t just the unresolved issues between Andrew and Neil. There were deeper, older issues simmering beneath the surface. Nicky, who had always been the peacemaker, now found himself walking a fine line between supporting Andrew and trying to keep the team together.

Nicky had always been the one to call the shots when it came to Andrew, but now he was forced to confront something he hadn’t expected: the uncertainty of their team dynamic. As much as he wanted to keep the peace, he couldn’t ignore the cracks forming between the team. And that, Nicky realized, was something that could destroy everything they’d worked for.

Meanwhile, Andrew and Neil found themselves in an odd standoff. They were, for all intents and purposes, still teammates. But the unspoken understanding between them, the trust and the distance, had shifted in ways neither of them was prepared for.

And as the days wore on, one thing became abundantly clear: if Andrew and Neil couldn’t figure out how to work together—really work together—the team would be at risk.

Neil sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side, the city stretching out beneath him in a sea of distant lights. The cigarette burned between his fingers, the smoke curling into the night air, vanishing like the thoughts he couldn’t quite escape. The events of Columbia played on an endless loop in his head, a reel of mistakes and betrayals, of words left unsaid.

The door behind him creaked open. He didn’t bother turning around. He already knew who it was.

Neil exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate. “What do you want, Andrew?”

Andrew stepped closer, his footsteps quiet against the concrete. He leaned against the railing, posture casual, but Neil knew better than to be fooled by that.

“You’re still here.”

“Obviously,” Neil replied dryly, taking another drag from his cigarette. His voice was sharp, edged with something Andrew would no doubt pick apart. “What do you want?”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “I want to know who you are.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Neil’s body stiffened, his fingers tightening around the cigarette before he flicked it away. He didn’t look at Andrew, just stared straight ahead at the horizon, as if the answer could be found somewhere in the endless stretch of sky.

Finally, he turned. His voice was colder this time. “Do you think you have any right to ask me that? After everything you’ve done?” His hands clenched into fists on his lap. “Because I don’t think you do. And I think what you did was stupid and irresponsible. So scram. I don’t want to see your face anymore.”

Andrew didn’t react, not in the way Neil wanted him to. He just studied him, like he was cataloging every tell, every weakness. Then, after a pause, he sighed. “I didn’t take you for the whiny type.”

Neil let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, I didn’t take you for the type to drug people, but here we are.”

Andrew tilted his head, unconcerned. “I don’t believe in regret, and I don’t apologize.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “But I can agree there were better ways to get what I wanted from you.”

Neil shot him a deadpan look. “You think?”

The silence between them stretched, thick and unyielding. Neil exhaled slowly, forcing himself to release the tension coiling in his muscles. He’d spent his entire life hiding, running, lying. But here, on this roof, under Andrew’s scrutiny, he found himself saying the words anyway.

“My father is not a good man.” His voice was steady, but the weight behind it was undeniable. “He’s in prison now. I spent my life running from him and the people he sent after me and my mom. When I was sixteen, he caught up to us, and my mom—” He faltered, just for a second, but he pushed through. “She didn’t make it.” He swallowed, his throat tight. “After that, I ran to England. My uncle made a deal with the Moriyamas to keep me safe. I’m enjoying my freedom. That’s why I’m here. I don’t care about the Ravens, I don’t care about Riko and I sure as hell am not his spy or whatever you thought I was.”

 Andrew didn’t respond immediately. His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—something sharp and fleeting, something Neil couldn’t quite name.

Finally, Andrew spoke, his voice as steady as ever. “Do you know why I’m on my meds?”

Neil hesitated before shaking his head. He had heard things, whispers in the spaces between conversations, but nothing concrete.

“I beat four men within an inch of their lives,” Andrew said, like he was discussing the weather. “They were homophobes who tried to kill Nicky. They deserved it, but the courts didn’t see it that way.”

Neil stared at him, his mind racing to piece it together. He had assumed Andrew’s situation was complicated, but this—this was something else entirely.

“How long do you have to take them?” Neil asked quietly.

Andrew’s gaze didn’t waver. “Three years. I have one left.”

Neil didn’t pause. He pulled out his phone and dialed without a second thought. Stuart picked up on the third ring.

“Neil? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said, eyes locked onto Andrew. “I need a favor.”

There was a beat of silence as Stuart listened. Neil explained quickly, without embellishment, without hesitation.

“Can you do something about this?”

A pause. Then: “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” Neil said before hanging up. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and met Andrew’s gaze head-on. “I talked to my uncle. He’s going to see if he can get you off your meds early.”

Andrew’s face hardened instantly, his stance shifting from neutral to something closer to hostility. “I don’t need your charity.”

Neil exhaled slowly, leaning back against the ledge. He wasn’t surprised by Andrew’s reaction, but that didn’t mean he was going to entertain the bullshit.

“I didn’t do it out of pity,” Neil said, his voice calm but firm. “Take it as a peace offering, if that makes it easier to swallow.” His gaze didn’t waver. “I can’t forget what you did. But I can give you a chance to redeem yourself. I am not your enemy but I could be your friend.”

For the first time, Andrew didn’t have a sharp retort ready. He just stood there, staring at Neil, unreadable as ever. Then, without a word, he turned and headed back inside, letting the door close behind him.

Neil stayed where he was, the cigarette long forgotten at his side. The city stretched out before him, vast and indifferent.

The following days were tense but quiet. The Foxes had returned to their usual practice routine, but the atmosphere had changed. Andrew was still Andrew, cold and calculating, but there was something different in the way he watched Neil now. It wasn’t the predatory glance he often used, the way he sized up every person in the room, as if mentally preparing for a fight. This time, it was something else—something more introspective.

The next time Andrew and Neil shared a quiet moment in practice, it wasn’t awkward, but it was charged. They hadn’t spoken much since the rooftop conversation. Andrew hadn’t brought up the meds again, and Neil hadn’t said anything either. But there was a change. Andrew could feel it, an undercurrent of something more—something that neither of them had acknowledged but both were aware of.

As the team finished up practice, Andrew lingered at the side, watching the way Neil interacted with the others. He was no longer the brooding loner who stood apart from the group. He still kept to himself, but now, there was a certain confidence in the way he carried himself.

“You know,” Andrew said, his voice low, cutting through the usual noise of the gym, “you’re not as smart as you think.”

Neil glanced over at him, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve played me before, haven’t you?” Andrew asked. “You’ve got everyone fooled—especially Kevin. But I’m not so easy to manipulate.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed, but there was no anger in his expression. Instead, there was amusement, the kind Andrew hadn’t seen in him before.

“I didn’t manipulate you,” Neil said simply, taking a step toward Andrew. “I just know how to get what I want.”

Andrew’s lips twitched, a rare, almost imperceptible smile forming. He hadn’t expected Neil to challenge him like this, to stand so firmly in front of him with such calm assurance.

“You think you’ve got me figured out,” Andrew said, though the words were more of an observation than an accusation.

Neil didn’t flinch. “I think I’m the only person in this place who’s not afraid of you. And that’s something you don’t know how to deal with.”

Andrew studied him, his eyes searching Neil’s face for any sign of vulnerability, any chink in his armor. But Neil was unfazed. He wasn’t backing down, and for the first time, Andrew wasn’t sure if he liked that or hated it.

“I don’t need you to like me,” Neil said, his voice quieter now. “But if you want to keep this team together, you’ll need to trust me. And I’m not asking for your loyalty—just your understanding.”

Andrew didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he simply turned away, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag as he walked toward the exit of the gym. He could feel Neil’s gaze on him, sharp and unyielding, but he didn’t look back.

Andrew sat in the corner of the practice gym one afternoon, watching the team run drills. His eyes followed Neil as he moved, more calculating than ever. The kid was different. There was a fire in him, a defiance that Andrew hadn’t expected. And it made Andrew question everything he thought he knew.

It wasn’t just that Neil had escaped after Andrew had drugged him—something Andrew would have never admitted out loud, but something about that had shaken him. The fact that Neil had called Stuart to get him off his meds... Andrew wasn’t sure if that had been an act of trust or manipulation. But either way, it was a move that had put him in Neil’s debt.

The worst part? Andrew wasn’t sure if he liked it.

That night, after practice, Andrew found himself on the roof again, his thoughts a tangled mess. Neil had handled the entire situation with a surprising amount of calm, especially given the circumstances. He hadn’t fought back when Andrew had cornered him. He hadn’t lashed out when the drug had started to take effect. Instead, he had run—smartly and with a determination that Andrew hadn’t expected from someone so used to hiding.

But that wasn’t the only thing that had bothered Andrew. When Neil had called Stuart to ask for help, when he’d trusted someone else to pull strings for him… that had been the first time Andrew had questioned everything he thought he understood about loyalty.

“Trust is a weakness,” Andrew muttered to himself.

Yet, Neil had trusted Stuart. And now, it seemed, Neil trusted Andrew, too—whether he realized it or not.

Andrew’s fingers drummed lightly against the railing, his gaze distant. The idea that Neil, of all people, had leaned on him, even if it was for selfish reasons, gnawed at Andrew’s gut. He didn’t know how to feel about it.

He’d spent years keeping people at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But Neil… Neil had somehow managed to slip through. And now Andrew had a choice: push him away or let him in.

Over the next few days, Andrew and Neil’s interactions became more frequent, though still strained. The unspoken tension hung between them like a thin veil that neither of them was willing to acknowledge. But every time Andrew caught Neil’s eye, every time Neil spoke to him with that same cool confidence, Andrew felt something shift inside him.

It wasn’t just the fact that Neil had walked away from the drugged drink or that he had managed to get himself out of the situation. It was the fact that Neil had trusted him—trusted him enough to walk into the fire and ask for help.

And now, every time Andrew thought about it, a question loomed larger in his mind: What would he do if Neil ever needed him again?

It was late one evening when Neil walked into the gym, looking unusually calm. He was no longer the stranger who’d arrived with a shadow of fear in his eyes. Now, there was something else. A quiet confidence. And for the first time since Andrew had met him, Neil didn’t look like he was trying to hide who he was.

“Are you going to keep standing there?” Neil asked, breaking Andrew from his thoughts.

Andrew turned his gaze to him, eyebrow raised. “You want something?”

Neil shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“About you,” Neil said simply. “What happens next?”

Andrew frowned, his fingers tapping the side of his leg in irritation. “What do you think happens next?”

Neil’s lips curved into a small smile. “I don’t know. You’re the one with all the answers.”

For the briefest moment, Andrew’s gaze softened. But he caught himself quickly, the wall around him snapping back into place.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Hatford” Andrew said, his voice colder than before. “You’re still just one more thing I don’t need to figure out.”

Neil met his gaze, unblinking. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, before turning to walk away, leaving Andrew to stand there, wondering if, perhaps, Neil had already figured him out better than he’d like to admit.

Chapter Text

Two weeks before the Foxes' first game, Kevin knocked on Neil’s dorm room late at night. Neil, already anticipating this visit, opened the door, only to find Matt and Seth standing protectively behind him.

“You’re not taking him,” Matt said firmly, arms crossed.

Seth, to Neil’s surprise, chimed in. “Yeah, he isn’t going anywhere with you, Day.”

Kevin looked unimpressed, his gaze flicking between the two upperclassmen. “Neil and I have work to do.”

“It’s okay,” Neil interjected quickly, sensing the tension rising. He glanced at Matt and Seth. “I’ll go.”

Matt looked skeptical, and Seth muttered something under his breath, but neither of them pushed further. Kevin turned and started walking away, expecting Neil to follow.

The night was crisp as Neil and Kevin arrived at the court. They began running Raven drills—fast, brutal, and precise. The kind of training that made Neil’s muscles ache within minutes but left him exhilarated.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Neil asked during a break, wiping sweat from his brow.

Kevin hesitated for a moment before answering. “You rubbed Andrew the wrong way.”

Neil frowned. “You always listen to what Andrew says?”

Kevin’s expression hardened, but his voice was quiet. “Andrew is the only reason I’m here. Without him, I’d be gone.”

Neil didn’t press further. He knew there was more to Kevin and Andrew’s dynamic, but tonight wasn’t the time to unpack it.

After the practice wrapped up near 1 a.m., Kevin went to find Andrew, who had driven them to the court and had spent the time sitting in the stands. Neil used the opportunity to shower and, afterward, stepped outside the locker room to light a cigarette. He found Andrew leaning against the wall, staring off into the distance.

Andrew didn’t say anything as Neil lit up, and the two of them waited in a strangely comfortable silence for Kevin. When Kevin returned, his sharp voice broke the peace.

“Smoking will ruin your health.” Kevin lectured as they climbed into the car.

Neil rolled his eyes, flicking ash . “Noted.”

When they arrived back at the dorms, Matt was waiting in Neil’s room, half-asleep on his bed. “How’d it go?” he mumbled as Neil entered.

“It was fine,” Neil replied, setting his things down.

Matt yawned. “You’re gonna hate Kevin in the morning.”

Neil smirked, but he cursed Kevin’s drills when he woke up sore the next day.

The following day, after practice, Wymack cornered Kevin in the locker room.

“Have you told them about the Kathy Morning Show yet?” Wymack asked, irritation in his tone.

“No,” Kevin admitted.

The rest of the team, still lingering in the locker room, heard every word. Heads turned in unison, and a wave of groans and complaints filled the air.

“You’re telling me we’re going on TV?” Matt asked, his voice incredulous. “Like, live?”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Nicky added, throwing his towel at Kevin.

Kevin ignored the protests, shrugging. “Now you know. Besides only I will be on camera.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Allison snapped. “We’re still going to be dragged into this circus.”

Wymack growled over their complaints. “Enough! You’re all going, and you’ll behave. It’s PR—good for the team, good for the university, and something I’m not arguing about. Show up, smile, and don’t embarrass me.”

Back at the dorms, Neil found himself sitting with Seth in the common room. The tension between Seth and Kevin had been palpable for weeks, and Neil decided to ask about it.

“Why do you hate Kevin so much?” Neil asked bluntly.

Seth leaned back in his chair, his expression sour. “Just because he’s Kevin Day doesn’t mean he’s some kind of god. He gets all he want while we have to earn what we have. I may be a piece of white trash but I also deserve a little respect.”

Neil stared at him for a moment before replying. “Respect is earned. You want respect? Stop being horrible to people. Maybe then you’ll get what you want.”

Seth’s mouth opened as if to retort, but Neil didn’t give him the chance. “You think Kevin has it easy? He doesn’t. But he works harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. You don’t have to like him, but if you want what he has, then do the work.”

Seth’s jaw tightened, but Neil saw the flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe—cross his face.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Seth muttered.

“You’re right,” Neil said. “I don’t. But I do know you’ve got a chance here. Don’t waste it.”

Seth didn’t respond. He sat there, staring at the floor, his cigarette forgotten in the ashtray. Neil didn’t wait for an answer. He stood, grabbed his running gear, and headed to the bathroom to change.After his run, Renee intercepted Neil in the hallway. “You have a mandatory appointment with Bee,” she said with her usual calm smile. “I have one too, so I’ll drive you.”

Neil wasn’t thrilled, but he went. He didn’t trust shrinks, but he decided not to argue.

Renee’s car hummed softly as she pulled into the small parking lot outside Bee’s office. Neil glanced at the building—a modest, beige structure with large windows partially obscured by blinds. It looked more like a dentist’s office than a place where people unburdened their darkest thoughts.

Renee turned off the engine and gave Neil a reassuring smile. “She’s expecting you. Don’t worry—it’s not as bad as you think.”

Neil wasn’t convinced. He followed her into the building, where a warm, inviting lobby awaited them. Potted plants lined the walls, and the scent of lavender hung faintly in the air. A woman with soft brown curls and glasses perched on her nose greeted them from behind a reception desk.

“Hi, Renee,” the woman said, smiling. Then she turned to Neil, her gaze steady but kind. “You must be Neil.”

“Yeah,” Neil said, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m Bee.” She extended a hand. “I’ll be your therapist while you’re with the Foxes. It’s nice to meet you.”

Neil hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

Renee squeezed his shoulder lightly. “I’ll wait for you outside. Take your time.”

Bee motioned for Neil to follow her down a short hallway to her office. Inside, the walls were painted a calming shade of blue, and a small couch faced an armchair with a low table between them. The table held a box of tissues, a notebook, and a small clock. A bookshelf lined one wall, filled with titles on psychology, mental health, and a few novels.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Bee said, taking the armchair. She didn’t open her notebook, nor did she pick up a pen. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

Neil sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, his arms resting on his knees. He felt like a cornered animal.

Bee broke the silence gently. “Let’s start with something simple. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Neil said quickly.

Bee smiled slightly, tilting her head. “Fine is a safe word. It doesn’t tell me much. Let’s try again.”

Neil frowned, his fingers curling into fists. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Bee said. “This is your time. You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to share. But I’m here to listen when you are.”

Neil glanced at the bookshelf, the clock, the box of tissues—anywhere but at Bee. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but her calm demeanor was disarming. She didn’t push him, didn’t pry, just sat there waiting patiently.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Do I have to talk about my past?”

“No,” Bee said. “Not if you don’t want to. We can talk about whatever you’re comfortable with. What’s on your mind right now?”

Neil hesitated. “Exy.”

“Exy?” Bee’s smile grew a little. “Tell me about that.”

Neil shrugged, feeling slightly less tense. “It’s... I don’t know. It’s just what I do. It’s the only thing that always made sense in my life.”

“Why does it make sense?”

He paused, searching for words. “Because it’s simple. It’s fast, loud, and messy, but when I’m on the court, everything else stops. There’s no past, no future, just the game.”

Bee nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “It sounds like Exy is a kind of escape for you.”

Neil stiffened slightly but didn’t deny it. “Maybe.”

“Do you ever feel like you can be yourself on the court?” she asked.

That question gave Neil pause. The court was where he played his hardest, where he let his instincts take over, but himself? No, he didn’t feel like himself anywhere but with his family. “I don’t think so.”

Bee didn’t press further. “That’s something we can explore over time. For now, it’s good to know Exy gives you a place to focus.”

They spoke more about Exy, the Foxes, and how Neil was adjusting to being part of a team. Bee listened without judgment, occasionally offering insights but mostly letting Neil guide the conversation.

When the session ended, Neil felt surprisingly lighter. He didn’t trust Bee—he didn’t think that he ever will—but he didn’t hate the experience as much as he thought he would. When he stepped out into the lobby, Renee was waiting for him with a soft smile.

“How was it?” she asked as they walked to her car.

“It was fine,” Neil said, this time meaning it.

Neil was leaning against the windowsill, the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating his face as he stared out into the night. The dorm was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves outside. His mind was preoccupied with the upcoming game, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

Seth stepped inside, his movements sluggish. Neil glanced at him, noting the shadows under his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped. Seth looked like he was carrying a heavy weight he couldn’t shake off.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Neil asked, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

“Something like that.” Seth ran a hand through his messy hair and collapsed onto the couch. He stared at Neil for a moment, then gestured to the cigarette. “You got another one?”

Neil raised an eyebrow but pulled out his pack and tossed it to Seth. Seth lit one and took a long drag, his expression unreadable. For a while, they smoked in silence, the room thick with unspoken tension.

Finally, Seth spoke. “Why do you care?”

Neil frowned. “About what?”

“About any of us,” Seth said, his tone raw. “You’re new here. You’ve got your own baggage, so why bother trying to fix people like me?”

Neil considered the question carefully before answering. “I don’t know if I care,” he said honestly. “But I know what it’s like to be at rock bottom. You’ve got a shot to pull yourself out of it. Most people don’t.”

Seth laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Then tell me,” Neil said, his voice steady. “What’s holding you back?”

Seth looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with why you’re still here,” Neil said. “You could’ve left the team if you hated it so much. So why stay?”

For a moment, Seth didn’t answer. He stared at the glowing ember of his cigarette, as if searching for answers in the smoke. Finally, he sighed. “Because I don’t want to be the guy who gives up. Not again.”

Neil leaned against the wall, studying him. “Then stop being that guy. You’re not going to earn respect by lashing out or tearing people down. You think Kevin’s an asshole? Fine, he is. But he’s also one of the best players in the game. He’s earned his place. If you want people to respect you, you have to do the same.”

Seth’s eyes flicked to Neil’s, his expression skeptical. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Neil said. “But you’ve got people here who’ll help you. Matt would do anything for you. Allison, too. Hell, even Kevin, in his own twisted way. You just have to stop pushing them away.”

Seth snorted, taking another drag. “You’re really something, you know that? Preaching about teamwork when you barely talk to anyone.”

Neil smirked. “I’m trying. Maybe you should, too.”

Seth fell silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Neil let the quiet stretch between them, giving Seth time to process. Eventually, Seth extinguished his cigarette and stood up.

“You’re annoying as hell,” he muttered. “But maybe you’ve got a point.”

“Maybe?” Neil said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Seth rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, Hartford.”

As Seth headed toward his room, he paused at the door. “Thanks, Neil.”

Neil didn’t respond, but as he watched Seth leave, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Seth was starting to find his way.

Chapter Text

The locker room buzzed with the usual post-practice energy—banter flying back and forth, the clatter of cleats on the tiled floor, and the faint hiss of showers in the background. Neil stood at his locker, peeling off his sweaty shirt, when his phone buzzed on the metal shelf.

He glanced at the screen, and his stomach flipped. Emma.

Without thinking, he swiped to answer. “Hey!” His voice came out sharper than intended, eager and warm in a way that instantly caught attention.

“Neil!” Emma’s voice chirped through the line, light and full of excitement. “You sound breathless. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all!” Neil leaned against the open locker door, suddenly deaf to the noise around him.

His tone didn’t go unnoticed. Matt, at the bench nearby, slowed his rummaging through his bag. Nicky paused mid-joke, blinking at Neil like he’d grown another head. Even Kevin, halfway through taping his fingers, turned a calculating glance toward him.

Andrew, leaning lazily against the bench across the room, tilted his head just enough to shoot Neil a side-eyed glance. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on the bottle in his hand tightened fractionally.

“I’ve got news,” Emma continued, oblivious to Neil’s audience. “I’m coming to your first game next week!”

Neil froze for a second, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”

“I’m serious!” Emma’s voice bubbled with excitement. “Dad’s trying to clear his schedule, so he might come too. But even if he can’t, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Neil’s laugh burst out before he could stop it—a rare, unguarded sound that had everyone in the room staring. Nicky mouthed, What the hell? to Matt, who shrugged, equally baffled.

“You’re actually coming?” Neil asked, his voice pitched higher than usual.

“Yes! I already got a Foxes hoodie, by the way. You better put on a show, Neil.”

The image of Emma in Foxes gear cheering for him sent a strange thrill through Neil’s chest. “I won’t let you down,” he promised.

“Good. Now, I’ll let you go before you combust from excitement. Just know I’m proud of you, Neil. Always.”

The line went dead, but Neil kept the phone to his ear for a moment longer, her words echoing in his head. When he finally lowered it, he found Matt staring at him expectantly.

“So,” Matt started, crossing his arms, “are you gonna tell us who that was, or are you just gonna stand there smiling like a maniac?”

Neil hesitated, his defenses tugging at him, but he let them drop just enough. “Emma. She’s a... friend. She’s coming to the game.”

“A friend?” Matt repeated, eyebrows raised. “Sounds more like a very good friend.”

Nicky smirked, clearly itching to pry, but even he held back. Seth muttered something under his breath, his tone dripping with skepticism, but didn’t join the conversation.

Andrew, on the other hand, had gone completely still. His eyes, sharp and cold, narrowed slightly as they locked on Neil “A friend?” he echoed flatly, his tone unreadable but carrying just enough weight to make Neil pause.

Neil shrugged, brushing off the unspoken challenge. “Yeah.”

Andrew’s face was a void, but there was something in his eyes. “Must be some friend if you’re falling over yourself on the phone with her.”

Kevin, who’d been silent until now, interjected. “You better not be distracted for the game.”

“I’m not distracted,” Neil shot back, his tone sharper than necessary, though his excitement still shone through.

Andrew’s face didnt change, but his voice was sharper “Just make sure you keep your head in the game. Wouldn’t want to disappoint your... friend.”

Neil didn’t rise to the bait, but he felt Andrew’s scrutiny like a weight on his back. Matt, sensing the tension, clapped Neil on the shoulder.

“Hey, that’s awesome, though,” Matt said, his grin genuine. “Having someone in the stands for you—that’s huge. I bet it’ll be good for your game.

Neil nodded, his determination hardening. “It will be.”

As Neil grabbed his bag and headed for the showers, he could feel Andrew’s eyes tracking him the whole way.  If Andrew had something to say, he didn’t say it then. But Neil could feel the storm brewing behind those sharp, assessing eyes.

Neil was lacing up his running shoes in his dorm room, the energy from Emma’s call still buzzing in his chest. He pulled on his hoodie, adjusted his armband, and grabbed his key card. Just as he turned to leave, the door creaked open, and Seth stepped inside.

“You going for a run?” Seth asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah,” Neil replied, glancing at him curiously.

Seth hesitated for a moment before stepping fully into the room. “Mind if I join?”

The question caught Neil off guard. He paused mid-movement, his fingers hovering over the zipper of his hoodie. “Sure. But why?”

Seth crossed his arms, glancing down at the floor. “Running helps with cravings,” he admitted quietly. His tone lacked its usual edge, replaced by a raw honesty Neil wasn’t used to hearing from him. “Figured it’s better than sitting around thinking about... other stuff.”

Neil straightened, studying Seth’s face. His usually sharp, cynical eyes seemed softer but carried the weight of exhaustion.

“You’re serious about this,” Neil said, not as a question but as a statement.

Seth shrugged, but the gesture lacked its usual dismissiveness. “You told me to stop the drugs. Figured I’d give it a shot.” He exhaled heavily. “Last week was... the worst. Thought I wasn’t gonna make it. But Matt stayed up with me when the cravings got bad. Allison brought me coffee, forced me to eat something when I couldn’t stomach it.”

Neil listened, his chest tightening at the vulnerability in Seth’s voice. Seth had always come off as brash and unshakable, but the cracks in his armor were showing now.

“Withdrawal’s hell,” Seth continued, his voice low. “But I want to get through it. I have to."

Neil leaned against the wall, his mind racing. He hadn’t expected Seth to take his words seriously, let alone act on them so quickly.

“Getting clean is no small thing,” Neil said finally, his voice steady but careful. “It’s the first step. And it’s not easy.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Seth muttered. “I’m still hanging on by a thread, but... I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You’ve got people who’ll help you,” Neil said. “Matt, Allison—they care. Even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

Seth gave a bitter laugh but nodded. “Yeah. Don’t know why, but they do.”Neil grabbed his key card and motioned toward the door. “Come on. You want to clear your head? Let’s run.”

They started slow, jogging side by side through the quiet campus streets. The rhythm of their footsteps and the cool night air filled the space between them. Seth didn’t speak for the first mile, and Neil didn’t push him.

By the second mile, Seth finally broke the silence. “You’re not as much of an asshole as I thought you’d be.”

Neil snorted, glancing at him. “Thanks, I guess.”

“I’m serious,” Seth said, his breath puffing in the cold air. “You could’ve just let me self-destruct. Would’ve been easier for you.”

Neil thought about it. He had enough on his plate without taking on someone else’s problems, but something about Seth’s effort resonated with him

“I’ve been where you are,” Neil admitted quietly. “Maybe not exactly, but... close enough. Sometimes all it takes is someone giving you a chance and patience.”

Seth nodded, his pace steady. “Well, I’m trying not to waste it.”

Neil glanced over at him, a small flicker of respect forming. Seth wasn’t perfect, but he was trying—and that was enough.

They ran in silence after that, the steady rhythm of their steps speaking louder than words. For Neil, it wasn’t just another run. It was proof that even the most broken pieces could start to mend—with a little help.

Neil and Seth trudged back toward the dorms, their breath visible in the cool night air. Seth groaned, stretching his arms above his head as they reached the front door.

“God, I already feel sore,” Seth grumbled. “How the hell do you run that fast for that long? It’s like you’re part machine or something. On top of all you are a smoker too”

Neil smirked, glancing at him. “It’s kind of my thing.”

Seth rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, too tired to muster his usual snark. “You’re ridiculous. I’m hitting the couch. This better be worth it.”

“You’ll see,” Neil said lightly, heading for the stairs. “I’m gonna shower.”

Seth waved him off, muttering something about regretting life choices as he disappeared toward the common room. Neil climbed the stairs two at a time, already anticipating the hot water loosening his muscles.

The bathroom was empty, the air thick with steam by the time Neil stepped out of the shower. He quickly toweled off and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, running a hand through his damp hair as he left.

A familiar itch began to creep up his spine—the craving for a cigarette. His hand instinctively brushed the outline of the pack in his pocket, but he hesitated.

The girls had taken over their side of the dorms for one of their movie nights. Neil could already hear faint laughter and the muffled hum of dialogue from their room. He frowned. Smoking near their windows wasn’t an option tonight.

Instead, he turned on his heel and made his way to the rooftop.

The rooftop was quiet, the city lights stretching out in the distance. Neil pushed the heavy door open, stepping onto the gravel-covered surface. The cool night breeze hit him immediately, and he welcomed it.

He found a spot near the edge, leaning against the low wall that encircled the roof. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it with practiced ease, taking a long drag. The familiar burn in his lungs calmed him, and he exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the air.

The rooftop had become his sanctuary, a place where he could think without interruption. The noise of the dorms, the constant presence of his teammates—it all faded up here.

Neil leaned his elbows on the wall, his gaze fixed on the city skyline. The faint sounds of laughter and music from the dorms below drifted up to him, reminding him of the strange new life he was carving out for himself.

As he smoked, he thought about Seth, about the progress he was making. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. Neil wondered if his own struggles would ever feel as manageable.

Neil flicked ash off the edge of the rooftop, letting the smoke curl lazily into the night air. The city hummed faintly in the background, a distant symphony of life that felt worlds away from the Foxes' dorms. He hadn’t expected company, so the faint creak of the rooftop door caught him off guard.

Andrew stepped through, his presence unmistakable even in the dim light spilling out from the stairwell. He walked with that same deliberate calm, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, eyes sweeping over the rooftop before settling on Neil. Without a word, Andrew came over and sat down next to him on the low wall.

Neil didn’t react at first, letting the silence between them stretch. Andrew didn’t seem to mind; he simply leaned back, gazing out into the darkness. After a while, it was Andrew who broke the quiet.

“Wanna paly Truth for truth? It’s a game. I ask something and you tell the true and then you ask and I tell the true. You don’t have to answer if it’s to personal.”

Neil turned his head slightly to look at him, his cigarette burning low between his fingers. “Sure,” he said after a moment, flicking ash onto the rooftop gravel.

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “Who’s Emma?”

Neil stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t expected Andrew to start with something so personal.

“She’s my cousin,” Neil said eventually, his voice steady despite the knot tightening in his chest. “She’s one of the two reasons I’m still alive.”

Andrew didn’t react right away, just stared out into the night with his usual unreadable expression. Finally, he hummed softly, as though filing the information away. “Your turn.”

Neil hesitated, considering his words carefully. He wanted to pick something that might crack Andrew’s armor, even just a little. “Why don’t you join the movie nights?You let Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin go, but you stay away.”

Andrew’s face stayed the same, but there was a spark of surprise in his eyes. “That’s your question?”

Neil shrugged. “It’s what I want to know.”

Andrew leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer. But then he said, quietly, “Because I am not welcome. I am not one of them.”

„What do you mean? “asks Neil.

Andrew glanced at him, but his eyes were distant. “Not your turn,” he muttered, his voice sharp but lacking the usual edge. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it slowly, deliberately. The soft flick of the lighter and the steady burn of the cigarette were the only sounds in the air for a moment.

Neil watched him, frustrated but not surprised. He was used to Andrew’s evasions by now. Still, he wasn’t going to let it slide. “You don’t get to just avoid it. Ask me something,” Neil pressed, hoping to nudge Andrew into saying something more.

Andrew’s eyes flicked to him for a moment before he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “I’ll take my turn another day,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, as though the subject was closed for now.

Neil opened his mouth to protest, but Andrew held up a hand, cutting him off. “You’re not getting anything out of me tonight. So don’t push it.”

Neil leaned back against the rooftop wall, his hands resting in his lap, cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. He didn’t press further, but his curiosity gnawed at him. There was so much Andrew was keeping locked up, and yet, in a way, Neil could understand. After all, who would want to face the truth of their own darkness?

The two of them fell into another heavy silence, the tension between them thickening with unspoken words. The city stretched out beneath them, indifferent to the quiet battle happening on the rooftop. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Neil woke up early, the soft morning light creeping through the blinds. He had a feeling today was going to be a mess, the kind of day where everything felt off from the start. He didn’t want to face it sober, so he dragged himself out of bed as quietly as possible. His roommates were still asleep, and he didn’t want to wake them up—especially not Seth, who tended to stay up late and needed all the sleep he could get.

In the kitchenette, Neil poured himself a generous amount of coffee into a mug. Then, he grabbed the vodka bottle from the top shelf, the one hidden in the back of the cabinet, and poured a good half cup of it into his coffee. The alcohol hit the warm liquid, and Neil gave it a quick stir, the familiar burn of vodka mixing with the sharp, bitter taste of the coffee. It wasn’t his usual routine, but today wasn’t a usual day.

Seth stirred in his bed, a low groan escaping his throat. He blinked awake, squinting in Neil's direction. “What the hell are you doing?” he muttered, watching Neil prepare the drink.

Neil didn’t respond at first, only took a long sip from the mug. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take the edge off. He went over to the window to smoke, letting the early morning silence surround him.

Seth rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re really getting into Kevin's habits, huh?” He let out a sleepy laugh, his voice rough. “Guess you're not even hiding it anymore.”

Neil didn’t answer him. Instead, he walked over to the window, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke out slowly, letting it dissipate into the cool morning air.

Before Seth could continue, the door to their dorm slammed open with a force that made Neil flinch. Kevin stood in the doorway, a determined look on his face like he had something important to say. But as his eyes settled on Neil—who was leaning casually against the window with a cigarette hanging from his lips—Kevin froze for a second. His gaze shifted from the cigarette to Neil's face, then back to the cigarette again.

“Seriously?” Kevin asked, his voice sharp, but it wasn’t just anger that was evident. There was an edge of concern underneath his irritation. “You’re smoking again?”

Neil didn’t say anything, just took another drag, his eyes never leaving Kevin. The silence between them stretched, and Kevin seemed to be deciding how to approach this.

“Are you really smoking in here now?” Kevin’s voice was harder, tinged with frustration. “You know you can’t keep doing this, right? We’ve got a game coming up, and I need you in top condition. You don’t need distractions like this right now.”

Neil exhaled slowly, flicking ash out the window. “And what about it, Day?” he asked, his tone flat.

Kevin stepped further into the room, clearly not done with his lecture. “It’s not just about you. You’ve been smoking before practices. You think that’s going to help us get through this game? You think we need that from you right now?”

Seth, who had been half-watching the whole exchange, stretched lazily on his bed. “Hey, give him a break,” he grumbled. “We all have our ways of dealing with shit.”

Kevin shot Seth a glare, but his focus was still entirely on Neil. “You know how important this game is, Neil. Do you want to be the reason we lose? Because if you’re not in the right headspace, it’s gonna show. I can’t afford to have that happen.”

Neil's jaw tightened. “I’m not gonna lose the game, Day. And besides Andrew also smokes go give him the lecture.”

Kevin wasn’t convinced. He crossed his arms and stared at Neil ignoring his comment about Andrew. “I’m not worried about you losing the game. I’m worried about you not being in your top condition.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What, you think I’m some kind of screw-up?”

Kevin ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in frustration. “I don’t think you’re a screw-up. But I can’t have you dragging everyone else down with you. You’re good—hell, you're better than most. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself and expect it to not have consequences.”

Neil didn’t respond. He didn’t care about Kevin’s worries, but at the same time, part of him knew Kevin was right. It was harmful.

Kevin paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he softened his tone. “Just… think about it, alright? You’ve got a chance to be part of something here, but not if you keep sabotaging yourself. Don’t make me do this again.”

With that, Kevin turned to leave, but not without giving one last look at Neil and his cigarette. "You're better than this," he muttered before stepping out of the dorm.

Seth let out a long breath. "Damn, you’ve really got him on edge, huh?"

Neil stayed silent, taking a final drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke curl up into the cool morning air. Yeah, the day just started and he already wants to bury himself somewhere.

Chapter Text

The Foxes were finishing up practice, the air thick with the lingering scent of sweat and rubber. Kevin had been relentless, pushing them through drill after drill, but finally, the whistle blew, signaling the end of their session. Neil tossed his stick onto the bench and reached for his water bottle, taking a long sip as he caught his breath.

“Not bad,” Kevin said tersely. “For once.”

Neil rolled his eyes, too tired to respond. He was reaching for his bag when a voice, one he hadn’t expected to hear yet, broke through the post-practice haze.

“Wow, Neil. I left you alone for a few months and you lost your sass.”

Neil froze, his head snapping toward the stands. Emma stood there, leaning casually against the railing, her smirk as sharp as ever. For a moment, he just stared, processing her presence.

“You’re early,” he finally said, his voice breaking into a grin as he dropped his bag.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “And you’re slow. What’s new?”

Without hesitation, Neil bolted up the steps toward her. He didn’t care that the rest of the Foxes were watching—he reached her and pulled her into a tight hug. Emma let out a small laugh but hugged him back just as fiercely.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were already here?” Neil asked, pulling back just enough to see her face.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” Emma said lightly, though her eyes softened as she looked at him. “Dad wanted to come too, but something came up at work. He’s really sorry he couldn’t make it.”

Neil’s expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly nodded. “I get it. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Emma smiled warmly, squeezing his arm. “You think I’d miss your big debut?”

Neil was about to respond when he realized how quiet the gym had gotten. Turning his head slightly, he saw the entire team staring at them. Matt had his arms crossed, a suspicious look on his face. Nicky looked like Christmas had come early. Seth and Dan exchanged glances, while Allison simply raised an elegant eyebrow.

“Well, well,” Nicky finally said, breaking the silence. “If this isn’t the infamous Emma we heard you talking to the other day.”

“Where are you going with that?” Neil asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” Seth said, grinning. “She’s clearly your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my—” Neil began, but Emma cut him off, stepping forward with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Cousin,” she said firmly, though her tone was amused. “But I’m flattered you think he could pull someone like me.”

That earned a round of laughter from the Foxes, except for Kevin, who looked irritated, and Andrew, who remained as stoic as ever, leaning against the wall near the exit.

“Cousin?” Matt repeated, blinking. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” Neil said, exasperated.

Emma gave the team a once-over, her smirk still in place. “These are the teammates you’ve been telling me about?”

“Unfortunately,” Neil muttered.

“I’m feeling a lot of judgment from someone who hasn’t even met us properly,” Nicky teased, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Nicky Hemmick, Neil’s favorite teammate.”

Emma shook his hand, grinning. “Emma. And I don’t need to meet you to judge you. It’s one of my many talents.”

That set the team off again, and even Neil cracked a small smile. He glanced toward Andrew, who hadn’t moved from his spot. Their eyes met briefly, and Neil gave him a subtle nod, grateful for his silence on the matter. Andrew hummed quietly and looked away, his expression unreadable.

“Alright, show’s over,” Neil said, grabbing Emma’s hand. “I’m stealing her for a while.”

“Oh, come on,” Nicky protested. “We barely got to interrogate her.”

“You’ll survive,” Neil said dryly, tugging Emma toward the locker room exit.

As they walked down the hallway, Emma gave Neil a sidelong glance. “They think I’m your girlfriend?”

Neil groaned. “They’ve got overactive imaginations. Just ignore it.”

Emma laughed, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. “This is going to be fun.”

Neil shook his head, but he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. Emma was here, and for the first time in weeks, things felt a little brighter.

Neil led Emma through the campus toward a quieter spot under a cluster of trees near the edge of the practice fields. The autumn breeze rustled the leaves, creating a serene backdrop for their reunion. Emma glanced around, her sharp eyes taking in the scenery as they sat on a low stone bench.

“So,” Emma started, crossing her legs and leaning back. “What’s it like playing for a real team?”

Neil chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s... different. The Foxes are chaos incarnate.”

“Sounds like you fit right in,” Emma teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Funny,” Neil deadpanned, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Emma studied him for a moment, her humor fading slightly. “You seem… better. Or at least less like you’re constantly on the edge of a breakdown. That’s good, right?”

Neil hesitated, glancing down at his hands. “Yeah, it’s better. It’s not easy, but it’s better.”

“Good,” Emma said firmly. “Because you deserve that. Just keep going and don’t think about the past.”

Neil looked up at her, something softening in his expression. “What about you? How’s everything back home?”

Emma shrugged. “Same old. Dad’s been busy, but he wanted me to tell you he’s proud of you. He’ll try to catch one of your games later in the season.”

Neil nodded, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I wish he could’ve come.”

“Me too,” Emma admitted, her voice softer now. “But you know how things are. He’s just glad you’re... safe.”

The word hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Neil nodded again, his throat tight.

Emma reached out, squeezing his arm. “Hey, don’t do that thing where you overthink everything. He’s fine, I’m here, and you’re doing great. That’s what matters.”

Neil managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

“So, what’s it like living with a bunch of crazy athletes?” Emma asked, shifting the topic.

Neil snorted. “Loud. Messy. And don’t get me started on Kevin. He’s always lecturing me about my life choices.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Lecturing you?”

“Yeah, about everything. Like smoking, staying up late, and whatever else he decides is a problem that day, which is very hypocritical of him when you know he drink like there is no tomorrow” Neil grumbled, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering one to Emma. She accepted it with a smile, and Neil lit them both.

“So, you’ve got a personal coach now?” Emma teased, taking a drag.

“More like personal nightmare,” Neil muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I’m just trying to survive. He thinks I need to be more like him—disciplined, focused, perfect. It’s exhausting.”

Emma laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I take it you're not thrilled about that.”

“Nope,” Neil replied with a dry smirk. “But I don’t have much choice.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as they shared the cigarette, the smoke curling around them in the cool air. Emma glanced at Neil, her expression softening.

“What about the rest of the team?” she asked. “What’s it like with them?”

Neil leaned back against the stone, taking another drag. “They’re... complicated. Nicky’s a walking sitcom, and then there’s Andrew—he’s a whole different story.”

“Andrew? That blonde guy who kept glaring at me like I’d stolen his favorite toy? What’s his deal?” Emma echoed, eyeing him curiously.

Neil stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing. “Andrew.” He glanced off toward the practice fields, choosing his words carefully. “He’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neil hesitated for a moment, thinking of their late-night rooftop conversation. “He’s... he’s got a lot of baggage. But we’ve talked. We’re getting there.”

Emma studied him, her sharp gaze softening. “Alright. But he seemed protective of you. That’s new.”

Neil didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of color touched his cheeks. Emma smirked but decided to let it go. She just hopped Andrew wasn’t like the last one.

They sat for a while longer, talking about the Foxes, life back home, and everything in between. With every word, it felt easier—like the weight of everything he’d been carrying was starting to lift, if only for a moment. Emma’s presence grounded him, offering the kind of support that was always there, even when everything else felt chaotic.

Eventually, the cigarette burned down to the filter, and Neil flicked it away, watching it smolder on the ground.

“Anyway,” Emma said “you’re not off the hook. You’ve got to tell me everything—how practices are, what your team’s like, the good, the bad, all of it.”

Neil sighed dramatically, but a real smile broke through. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a circus.”

Emma laughed, settling in as Neil began recounting stories about the Foxes—the ridiculous arguments, the chaotic team dynamics, and the moments that made all the madness worthwhile.

For the first time in months, Neil felt a sense of normalcy. Sitting there with Emma, catching up and laughing, it was easy to forget about everything else, if only for a little while.

The day of the Foxes’ first game of the season arrived with a crackling buzz of anticipation that seemed to pulse through the entire campus. Students flooded the walkways, their chatter full of excitement as they donned Foxes gear and headed toward the arena. Banners were hung on every available surface, and the energy was electric—there was no denying that this was a big deal.

Neil was standing near the edge of the court during warm-ups, his eyes scanning the arena as the rest of the team got ready. The buzz of the crowd was slowly growing, the sense of something important about to happen hanging heavy in the air.

Emma was there and Neil had already spotted her in the stands, surrounded by some of the other Foxes’ families. Despite the excitement of the game, the sight of her gave him a sense of calm.

Kevin was pacing nearby, eyes glued to his phone as he reviewed the opposing team’s stats. His intense focus was almost overwhelming, and Neil had learned to give Kevin his space when it came to game day. But even now, there was an underlying tension—one that seemed to ripple through the entire team. It wasn’t just about the game; it was about everything that had led up to this point, the pressure of finally performing in front of a crowd.

“All set?” Matt called from across the court, snapping Neil out of his thoughts.

Neil nodded, adjusting his gear and taking a deep breath. He could feel the weight of the expectations, the pressure of living up to everything this game represented. But there was a thrill to it as well—the kind that made his heart race in a way he knew all too well.

The game itself started with a roar from the crowd as the teams took their positions. Neil, in his usual spot, moved with practiced ease. The first few minutes were fast-paced, the action on the court a blur of controlled chaos. The Foxes’ plays were sharp, and despite their mismatched personalities, they moved like a unit.

Neil was in the zone, his movements instinctual, every pass and every shot felt right. But as the game went on, the Foxes’ sharpness began to falter. The other team was relentless, faster, and better coordinated in ways the Foxes couldn’t match. Kevin was yelling at players, Matt was doing his best to block shots, and Aaron was his usual stoic self, but the cracks in their coordination were starting to show.

There were visible gaps in the team now, gaps that hadn’t been there when they first started. The Foxes were divided into two groups: Kevin, Matt, and Aaron on one side, pushing themselves with every move, while the others—Neil, Nicky, Seth, and Andrew—seemed to be working with less focus, more at odds with each other. The communication was off. The plays were sloppy.

It was clear that despite all their talent, they weren’t a team yet. And the lack of unity was becoming painfully obvious.

Neil could see it in the way Kevin was constantly snapping at people, pointing out every mistake. He could feel it in the way Aaron barely acknowledged anyone, his mind focused solely on the game as if he were playing alone. Even Matt, usually the steadying force, had a frustrated look on his face, muttering under his breath.

The final minutes of the game were a blur of noise, adrenaline, and frustration. Despite their best efforts, the Foxes couldn’t recover from the deficit, and the buzzer sounded with the opposing team ahead. The arena, which had been electric with excitement only hours before, fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Neil stood still for a moment, his body vibrating with a mix of disappointment and disbelief. They had come so close, and yet they had lost. It was impossible to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut, the sense that all the work, all the sweat, had been for nothing.

Around him, the Foxes were already starting to pull away from each other. Matt punched the air in frustration, while Nicky threw his towel down on the floor with a frustrated growl. Kevin was pacing again, muttering to himself, his hands running through his hair. Only Aaron seemed unaffected, his face as unreadable as ever.

It was like the tension in the room was splitting the Foxes apart. The two sides of the team barely looked at each other. There was no camaraderie, no sense of being a collective unit. The defeat felt even heavier because of it—like they weren’t just beaten by the opposing team, but by the rift that was growing between them.

Neil’s eyes wandered to the stands, searching for Emma. When he found her, he saw her expression was one of sympathy, not judgment. She smiled at him, and that small comfort helped ease the tightness in his chest. He nodded at her, trying to push away the disappointment.

The locker room was quiet after the game. No one had much to say. Wymack gave them a short, clipped speech about taking responsibility and coming back stronger, but it felt hollow, as though everyone was too tired, too defeated to care.

As Neil sat on the bench, peeling off his gear, he overheard Kevin’s voice. “This is all on me,” he was saying, his tone sharper than usual. “We should’ve won that game.”

Seth, who had been unusually quiet since the buzzer sounded, grunted in response. “It’s a team effort, Kevin. We all fucked up.”

But Kevin didn’t seem to be listening. He was already planning his next moves in his head, reviewing every mistake, every missed opportunity. Neil didn’t feel like he had anything to add. The pressure was already mounting, and their first game had been a reminder of just how far they still had to go. The Foxes might have lost today, but Neil knew that this was only the beginning. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were ever going to find the unity they so desperately needed.

The tension between the two sides of the team was palpable. The words from earlier in the game—the jabs, the snap judgments—still hung in the air like an unspoken weight.

Neil barely had time to change out of his sweaty clothes after the game before Emma intercepted him outside the locker room. She was waiting near the hallway, leaning against the wall with a casual confidence that somehow still looked out of place on campus.

“Hungry?” Emma asked, smiling as he approached.

Neil ran a hand through his damp hair, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Starving.”

“Good,” she said, looping her arm through his and steering him toward the exit. “Let’s fix that.”

They ended up at a small, quiet diner off-campus. It wasn’t fancy, but Neil appreciated the privacy. Emma slid into the booth across from him, picking up the laminated menu and pretending to scrutinize it even though she’d already decided what she wanted.

Neil glanced over his menu briefly before setting it down. “When are you going home?” he asked, his tone casual but his curiosity evident.

Emma peeked at him over the top of her menu, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Just asking.”

She grinned, setting the menu down with a dramatic flourish. “Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m flying back after we eat.”

Neil blinked, surprised. “That soon?”

Emma nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow, and I didn’t want to hang around too long. Besides,” she added with a playful tilt of her head, “you’ve got your own life here. I don’t want to cramp your style.”

Neil snorted. “Right. Because I’m overflowing with style.”

Their food arrived shortly after, and the conversation drifted to lighter topics as they ate. Emma teased Neil about his eating habits—fast and efficient, as if he were on a timer—while Neil jabbed back at her overly meticulous approach, cutting everything into perfect bites.

When they finished, Emma paid the bill despite Neil’s protests, waving him off with a smirk. “Let me do this, Mr. Independent. You can get the next one.”

Outside, the air was chilly, and Neil followed Emma to her rented car. The sleek, black vehicle stood out among the rows of older, battered student cars, a clear sign she didn’t skimp on convenience.

“Hop in,” Emma said, unlocking the doors with a beep.

Neil climbed into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car’s heater a welcome relief. They drove back to the university in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine and the soft sound of music from the radio filling the space between them.

When they arrived at the campus parking lot, Emma pulled into a spot near the dorms and turned off the engine. She turned to Neil, her expression fond. “Guess this is it.”

Neil nodded, feeling a slight tightness in his chest. “Yeah.”

Emma leaned over, ruffling his hair with a grin before he could duck away. “Don’t get too sentimental on me now.”

Neil swatted her hand away, but his faint smile gave him away. “I’ll see you again.”

“You’d better,” Emma said, her voice softening.

Neil opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. He turned back to her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Safe flight.”

Emma nodded, giving him a little wave. “Take care, Neil.”

He stepped back as she started the car, watching as she drove off into the night. The glow of her taillights disappeared down the road, leaving Neil alone in the quiet parking lot.

For a moment, he just stood there, feeling the weight of the goodbye settle over him. But then he shook it off, turning toward the dorms.

He’d see her again, he told himself. And for now, that was enough.

Neil went to his room. He was tired from the game- physically and emotionally, but he couldn’t sleep. Seth and Matt didn’t share his problem. He decided to go to the rooftop.

The rooftop was quiet, the night air crisp and biting against Neil’s skin. He climbed the stairs on autopilot, needing the clarity only a rooftop cigarette could provide. When he pushed the door open, the faint glow of a cigarette ember greeted him. Andrew was already there, leaning against the ledge, as unbothered as ever.

Neil hesitated for a moment before stepping out, letting the door swing shut behind him. He didn’t expect Andrew to say anything, and Andrew didn’t disappoint. The silence stretched between them as Neil reached into his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighter.

Andrew’s gaze flicked to Neil as he lit his cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating Neil’s face. Then, Andrew looked back out over the campus. The distant murmur of voices and faint music filtered up from below, but here on the roof, it felt like a different world.

Neil leaned against the ledge, keeping a safe distance from Andrew. He took a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the cool air.

“Truth for truth?” Andrew asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

Neil raised an eyebrow, surprised Andrew had initiated the game. “Sure” Neil said, exhaling slowly.

“What was London like?” Andrew asked, his tone unreadable.

The question caught Neil off guard. He hadn’t expected Andrew to care, though he suspected the interest wasn’t entirely personal. He took another drag, staring at the skyline as he considered his answer.

“Crowded,” Neil said finally. “Loud.”

Andrew hummed, clearly unimpressed. “And?”

Neil shrugged, his expression guarded. “And it was home or at least the closest thing to one. Stuart and Emma made it feel like one though. Without them it’s just another city that I have lived in.”

Andrew didn’t respond immediately, taking a slow drag from his cigarette instead. Neil glanced at him, wondering what Andrew was thinking but knowing better than to ask.

“Your turn,” Andrew said, his gaze flicking toward Neil.

Neil hesitated, but he decided to ask the question that had been on his mind. “Matt told me you wear the armbands so people can tell you and Aaron apart. But you wear them even at night so what are they really for?”

Andrew’s hand froze, the cigarette halfway to his lips. His gaze didn’t waver, though, and when he finally exhaled, the smoke curled lazily in the air between them.

Neil waited, knowing better than to press but unwilling to let the subject drop completely.

“They’re for me,” Andrew said after a long pause. His tone was sharper now, like the words had been dragged out against his will.

Neil stayed quiet, the cigarette in his hand forgotten as he listened.

“They’re a reminder,” Andrew continued, his voice low and clipped. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, unblinking. “That it’s my body. My choices. Not anyone else’s.”

The weight of Andrew’s words settled between them, heavy and unshakable. Neil didn’t respond immediately, letting the statement hang in the air.

He took another drag, smoke curling around him as he stayed silenced. Andrew glanced at him then, his expression unreadable. Whatever he saw in Neil’s face seemed to satisfy him, and he turned his attention back to the skyline.

The rest of the silence felt heavier, but not uncomfortable. They smoked their cigarettes in companionable quiet, the night air growing colder as the minutes passed.

When Neil finally stubbed out his cigarette and pushed off the ledge.

“Good night.” he said.

Andrew didn’t stop him, didn’t say anything. But as Neil opened the door to leave, Andrew’s voice reached him, low and calm.

“Good night.”

Neil paused, glancing over his shoulder. Andrew’s gaze was back on the horizon, his cigarette almost finished. It wasn’t anything special. He just responded to him, but it was enough.

Chapter Text

Neil's alarm blared at 3 a.m., wrenching him out of a dreamless sleep. For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling, unsure why he was awake. Then the memory hit him. He groaned, muffled the sound with his pillow, and cursed Wymack, Kevin, and everything they stood for.

Foxes gathered in the common room, bleary-eyed and irritated. They’d all received the announcement from Wymack the day before: their first public media appearance was today, a live taping of The Kathy Ferdinand Show.

Neil could feel the tension simmering in the room. The loss from last night still hung heavy over them, and the rift between the upperclassmen and Andrew’s group was as visible as ever. Matt sat on the couch with his arms crossed, his jaw tight. Allison leaned against the wall, scrolling through her phone, and Dan sat nearby, her expression calm but her eyes betraying her irritation.

Across the room, Kevin paced near the window, clearly agitated. Aaron slouched on the armrest of the couch, looking as though he hadn’t slept. Andrew, of course, looked completely indifferent, sitting in a chair with his feet on the coffee table and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Do we have to do this?” Seth grumbled, leaning against the wall. “It’s not like we’re getting anything out of it.”

“Yes, Seth,” Kevin snapped without looking at him. “Because public relations are a key part of being a team in this league. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you?”

“Jesus, Kev, can you stop being such a condescending dick for five minutes?” Matt shot back, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“Enough,” Dan interjected before things could escalate further. She stood, fixing them both with a sharp look. “Like it or not, we’re going. So suck it up and act like a team for once.”

Neil stayed quiet, watching the exchange unfold. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of going on a live show, but he knew better than to voice his complaints.

The ride to the studio was tense, the Foxes packed into the bus with an air of quiet discomfort. Last night’s loss was still fresh in their minds, and the cracks between the two factions of the team were more obvious than ever. Kevin sat in the front, his phone in hand, muttering to himself as he reviewed plays. Matt and Dan spoke quietly a few rows back, their conversation calm but tinged with frustration.

Neil stared out the window, trying to block out the low hum of tension in the air. He wasn’t thrilled about being paraded in front of the media, but Wymack had made it clear: this wasn’t optional.

When they arrived, the studio was bustling with energy. Production staff rushed around, coordinating last-minute details, while bright stage lights spilled into the

hallway from behind thick curtains. The Foxes were led into a waiting area, where Kathy Ferdinand herself appeared to greet them.

She was tall and charismatic, her smile lighting up the room as she approached. “Coach Wymack,” she said warmly, shaking his hand. “Always a pleasure. And the infamous Foxes. Welcome.”

Wymack grunted something that could have been a greeting, and Kathy turned her attention to the team. Her gaze lingered on Kevin and then Neil, clearly sizing them up.

“Kevin Day,” she said with a grin. “It’s an honor to have you here. You’ve been making waves since your move to Palmetto.”

Kevin nodded stiffly, his usual stoicism on full display.

“And Neil Hartford,” Kathy continued, her eyes sharp. “The new face of the Foxes. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Neil gave her a polite smile, unsure of how to respond.

Kathy clapped her hands together. “Well, I’m looking forward to hearing your stories. Kevin, you’ll be joining me on stage for the interview, of course. And Neil, I’d like you to join him.”

Neil blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Kathy said with a laugh. “Your addition to the team has been a hot topic this season.”

Kevin turned to Neil as Kathy walked off to finalize preparations. “You’re coming with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Neil crossed his arms. “No, I’m not. You can handle it.”

Kevin’s jaw tightened. “It’s not just about me. You need to be there. People want to hear from you.”

“I’m not interested in people,” Neil replied coolly.

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make this difficult, Neil.”

Neil smirked and leaned in slightly, his voice dropping as he said something sharp and biting in French. “Vous êtes terriblement autoritaire. Je comprends pourquoi Seth ne te supporte pas. Très bien, je ferai l'interview, mais pas parce que vous me le demandez.” (You're awfully bossy. I can see why Seth can't stand you. Fine i will do the interview, but not because you ask me.)

Kevin’s eyes darkened as he replied in the same language, his tone biting. “Tais-toi. On n'a pas le temps pour tes conneries.” (Just shut up. We don't have time for your bullshits.)

The exchange earned stunned looks from the rest of the Foxes.

“Wait,” Nicky said, breaking the silence. “Neil knows French?!”

Kevin didn’t bother acknowledging him, already turning toward the stage, but Neil gave Nicky a sly grin.

When the time came, the Foxes filed into the studio. Most of the team was directed to the audience section, where they sat under the bright lights. Matt looked like he was bracing himself for the worst, while Nicky was practically vibrating with excitement. Andrew, as always, looked completely unbothered, slouching in his seat with his arms crossed.

“Welcome, Kevin Day and Neil Hartford,” Kathy said, her voice warm and inviting. “It’s great to have you here today.”

Kevin nodded stiffly. Neil gave a small smile, unsure of what else to do.

“Kevin, let’s start with you,” Kathy began, her attention shifting fully to him. “You’re one of the most talked-about players in Exy, and your move to Palmetto State was nothing short of shocking. What prompted such a big change?”

Kevin straightened, his tone as precise as ever. “It was a strategic decision. Palmetto offered me the opportunity to build something new, to be part of a team with potential. Coach Wymack’s vision aligned with mine.”

Kathy nodded, her expression interested but probing. “And how has the adjustment been? Coming from the Ravens must be a big shift.”

“It’s been challenging,” Kevin admitted. “But necessary. This team has the drive and the talent to succeed.”

From the corner of his eye, Neil could see the rest of the Foxes in the audience. Matt and Dan looked composed, though Matt’s jaw tightened at Kevin’s words. Nicky, on the other hand, was struggling to suppress a grin, while Andrew sat with his usual blank expression, observing everything.

“And what about you, Neil?” Kathy turned to him, her smile bright. “You’re a new addition to the team this year, and already people are talking about your potential. How are you adjusting to college Exy?”

Neil hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind racing for the safest answer. “It’s been a big change,” he said carefully. “But I’m grateful for the opportunity to play at this level.”

Kathy arched an eyebrow, clearly fishing for more. “It must be intimidating, joining a team with players like Kevin Day. How do you handle the pressure?”

Neil’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I just focus on the game. It’s what I’ve always done.”

“And what’s it like playing for Coach Wymack?”

“He’s tough, but he pushes us to be better,” Neil said. “It’s what we need.”

Kevin gave a subtle nod of approval, though Neil barely noticed. Kathy leaned back slightly, her gaze flicking between the two of them.

“There’s been a lot of talk about the Foxes this season,” Kathy said Kevin nodded curtly, his posture straight and professional. Neil followed his lead, keeping his expression neutral as he sat down next to Kevin.

“Kevin,” Kathy began, turning her attention to him. “ Can you tell us how your new team is and how are you working with them?”

Kevin launched into a polished explanation about the Foxes, their way of playing and how he fits in it all. Neil barely listened, his focus more on the cameras and the heat of the stage lights.

Kathy smiled warmly and leaned in. “Do you think you’ll ever go back to the Ravens?”

Kevin hesitated, and for a moment, his carefully composed mask slipped. “I’ll stay with the Foxes,” he said after a long pause, his voice quieter. “As long as they’ll have me.”

The audience murmured in response, and Kathy’s eyes softened. “That’s quite a commitment. Speaking of commitments, how’s your arm holding up after the incident?”

Kevin’s posture stiffened, but he didn’t flinch. “It’s healing,” he said. “I still can’t play with my left hand for long periods, but I’m working through it.”

“And what about Riko?” Kathy asked, her tone careful but curious. “The two of you were practically brothers on the Ravens, but you haven’t been seen together for a while. Is there a reason for that?”

Kevin’s jaw tightened. “We’re both busy with our teams,” he said simply.

Kathy smiled, but there was something calculating in her gaze. “Well, I have a surprise for you, Kevin.”

The lights dimmed slightly, and the audience let out a collective gasp as a familiar figure appeared on the screen behind Kathy. It was Riko, dressed sharply in a Raven’s jacket. He walked directly to Kevin, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Before Kevin could even react, Riko pulled him into a hug—tight, almost possessive, as if he were claiming Kevin back.

Kevin’s eyes widened, and Neil could see the instant fear take over his face. Kevin stood stiff as a board, his body rigid in Riko’s arms. He didn’t hug back, didn’t even attempt to.

The audience murmured, but some of them laughed and clapped at the seemingly friendly reunion.

Riko pulled back just enough to look at Kevin, his grin wider now, savoring the discomfort he was causing. “It’s been too long, my friend. How’ve you been?”

Kevin’s voice was strained, barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Neil watched this play out, his eyes narrowing. This wasn’t just a casual greeting—it was a power play, an attempt to remind Kevin of who had once held control over him. But Neil wouldn’t let that stand.

As Riko moved to sit next to Kevin, his hand hovering near the back of the couch, Neil immediately shifted his posture, positioning himself between Kevin and Riko.

“No,” Neil said firmly, grabbing Riko’s arm and pulling him away. “You’re not sitting next to Kevin.”

Riko’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a snarl. “And who the hell do you think you are?” he snapped, jerking his arm back.

Neil didn’t flinch. “Neil Hartford, pleasure, I am sure. And Kevin doesn’t need to sit next to you.”

The tension was thick in the air now. The audience, sensing something was wrong but not fully grasping it, fell silent. Kathy looked from Neil to Riko, trying to mask the awkwardness with a professional smile.

“Riko, it's so good to have you join us remotely!” she said trying to break the tension between the two athletes.

“I couldn’t resist, Kathy,” Riko said smoothly. “You know Kevin and I go way back, and I wanted to check in on him. It’s not every day I get to see my old friend on such a big stage.”

Kathy, hoping to lighten the mood, leaned in, her tone chipper. “So, Kevin, you’re doing amazing things at Palmetto State. Riko, you must be proud of how far Kevin’s come, right?”

Riko gave an exaggerated nod, his smile so wide it was almost painful to look at. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “Kevin has always been a remarkable player. It’s only natural that he’d excel wherever he goes. But I must say Palmetto State is a waste of his talents.”

Kevin’s gaze flicked briefly to Riko before returning to his hands, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. It was clear how hard it was for him to keep his composure, and Neil could sense the old fear bubbling up, but Kevin wasn’t giving Riko the satisfaction of showing it.

“Kevin, I’m sure it’s strange not playing on the same team anymore,” Kathy continued, her voice gentle. “You two were inseparable for so long. Must be quite an adjustment.”

Kevin’s voice was tight as he spoke. “It’s an adjustment, yes.”

Neil watched as Riko leaned back in his seat, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “Don’t worry, Kathy,” Riko said with mock concern. “Kevin knows that he’ll always have a place with the Ravens. After all, the Ravens are where greatness is made.”

The audience, oblivious to the undercurrent of animosity, clapped politely, some even laughing at the banter. But Neil was having none of it.

Before anyone could speak again, Neil interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You really think you’re the standard for greatness, Riko?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You know, for someone who’s so obsessed with his success, you’ve really lost touch with reality.”

Riko’s expression darkened in an instant, the facade of polite friendliness cracking as he shot Neil a withering look. “You’re out of line,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Neil didn’t back down. “Maybe I’m just tired of hearing your same tired speech. You’re not Kevin’s savior, Riko. You’re not the reason he’s great. He’s great because of his own hard work, not because you made him. Your team's ranked first? Congratulations and big deal. Maintaining a top position is far easier than starting over from the gutters. Kevin is doing that right now. He's facing entirely new schools and learning to play with his less dominant hand. When he masters it, and he will, he'll be better than you could ever have made him. “

“Do you know why? “Neil asked, but he didn't let Riko answer “Because he has us. But you? You don’t have anything expect arrogance and selfishness “

The audience shifted uncomfortably, sensing the escalating tension between the two. Some of them were still unsure of what to make of the situation, but others seemed to catch on to the real animosity beneath the surface.

Riko opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get a word out, Neil cut him off again, his words sharp and deliberate. “And don’t kid yourself, Riko. You’re afraid of Kevin. You’ve always been afraid of him, because deep down, you know he’s better than you. You’re just too self-centered to admit it. You ruined everything because you couldn’t handle the competition. But that didn’t stop Kevin as you see. Be ready because the Foxes will mop the floor with the Ravens this year.”

The crowd gasped, the audacity of Neil’s words hitting like a punch. Riko’s eyes went wide, his face flushing with rage, but before he could retaliate, Kathy jumped in, clearly eager to put an end to the situation before things spiraled further.

“Well, let’s get back to the topic at hand,” she said, her voice almost too bright. “The season is just beginning, and I’m sure everyone is looking forward to the game between the Foxes and the Ravens. What can we expect from the two teams this year?”

Riko’s hands were clenched into fists, but he maintained his smile, though it no longer held the same conviction. “Of course,” he said stiffly. “It’ll be a great season. But the Ravens have the edge, as always.”

Kathy nodded quickly. “Well, our time is almost up, unfortunately. But thank you both for joining us today. I’m sure everyone is excited to see the upcoming game!”

“Yeah, sure,” he interrupted, his voice biting. “It’s cute that you think you’ve somehow helped him get where he is, Riko. But I’ll tell you this—you’re not the reason Kevin’s great. He’s great because of his own work, his own drive. You didn’t build him. You broke him.”

The room went dead silent. The audience, sensing the shift, watched in stunned silence. Riko’s eyes blazed with fury, but he was too smart to react rashly, especially not with cameras rolling.

Riko’s jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Neil pressed on, cutting him off. “You’re so terrified of Kevin’s potential, of what he can do, that you tore apart everything you two had just to keep the upper hand. How’s that working out for you now?”

The air felt thick with unspoken words, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone in the room.

Kathy, ever the professional, quickly stepped in before things could escalate further. “Alright, gentlemen,” she said brightly, her voice strained as she jumped in with an air of finality. “We’re almost out of time. But there is a question for which we need an answer. What are you choosing Kevin- black or orange?”

Kevin clenched his hand “I already said it," Kevin said without looking at Riko. "I would like to stay at Palmetto as long as they're willing to have me.”

The Foxes cheered at that. The rest of the audience was quick to join in Kathy turned to the audience, her voice turning cheerful again. “And with that, we’re all looking forward to the big game between the Foxes and the Ravens! Thank you so much, Riko, for joining us remotely, and Kevin and Neil, for your time here today. It’s been a pleasure.”

As soon as the cameras turned off, Kevin stood abruptly, his face a mask of controlled panic. Without a word, he stormed off toward the green room, clearly needing space to process everything.

Neil followed close behind, glancing at the group of players waiting off to the side. Andrew had tried to get on the stage during the interview, but Matt, Wymack, and Renee had immediately intervened, physically holding him back. Matt held one of Andrew’s arms, Wymack grabbed the other, and Renee had even sat on Andrew’s lap, effectively trapping him.

Neil’s blood boiled as he watched the scene unfold. He knew Andrew hated being touched, especially in such an invasive way. It wasn’t just the physical restraint; it was the violation of Andrew’s boundaries, and it angered Neil more than he wanted to admit.

“That was a circus,” Matt muttered under his breath as Neil passed by him, still fuming.

Back in the green room, Kevin rounded on Neil. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Neil met Kevin’s gaze, his tone calm but firm. “I was thinking someone needed to stand up to him.”

“You just made us targets!” Kevin yelled. “He won’t let this go!”

Neil didn’t flinch. “Good,” he said quietly. “Let him come. We’re not afraid of him anymore.”

As the team exited the studio and made their way to the bus, Neil noticed a figure leaning against the building. His heart sank when he realized who it was.

Riko Moriyama straightened as they approached, his gaze fixed on Kevin.

“Kevin,” Riko called, his voice deceptively calm. “We need to talk.”

Kevin froze, his face paling. Before he could respond, Andrew stepped forward. In one swift, fluid motion, Andrew grabbed Riko by the collar and slammed him against the nearest wall.

“Back off,” Andrew hissed, his voice low and deadly. “Or I’ll make sure you regret stepping anywhere near him.”

Riko glared at Andrew, his composure cracking as his hands balled into fists. “Still playing the guard dog part Minyard?” he snarled.

“Don’t touch what’s mine Moriyama” Andrew replied, his grip unrelenting.

Before Riko could retort, Neil stepped in, his voice sharp and mocking. “Wasn’t what you heard inside enough for you? Or do you need more?”

Riko’s eyes darted between Neil and Andrew, seething with fury. “You are going to regret what you did.” he spat.

The sound of footsteps cut through the tension as Wymack rounded the corner with the rest of the Foxes. Riko stiffened, his lips curling into a sneer. With one last glare, he shoved Andrew’s hand away and walked away.

The team watched in silence as Wymack approached, his expression unreadable. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Andrew said coolly, stepping back.

Wymack sighed, shaking his head. “Get on the bus. Now.”

As they boarded, Neil caught Kevin’s gaze. There was fear there, but also a flicker of something else—gratitude.

The bus ride back to campus was stiflingly quiet. Kevin sat at the front, his head down, while Neil kept his gaze firmly out the window. Andrew watched them both, unreadable as ever.

When they finally arrived, the team trudged up to their dorms in silence.

The early afternoon sunlight streamed into the girls’ dorm lounge, casting long golden rays across the furniture. Dan and Renee sat on the couch, a pile of textbooks between them, though neither was making much progress. Renee’s highlighter hovered over her notes, and Dan was thumbing through her phone absently, clearly distracted.

Allison paced in front of them, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. She was mid-rant, holding up her phone to show an array of dresses.

“This one’s too plain, this one’s too bright, and this one—ugh—looks like something you’d wear to a job interview,” she complained, scrolling rapidly. “I need something perfect for the Fall Banquet. It’s all about making a statement, you know?”

Renee smiled serenely. “You always make a statement, Allison. You could wear anything and people would notice.”

“Sure, but there’s a difference between ‘notice’ and ‘envy,’” Allison countered. She tossed her phone onto the couch and flopped dramatically into an armchair. “I need something that says, ‘Yes, I’m the queen of the Foxes, and no, you can’t sit with me.’”

Dan snorted, setting her phone aside. “I thought you didn’t even care about the Banquet.”

“I don’t,” Allison said breezily, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her. “But if I have to go, I might as well show up looking like I own the place. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “you never know who might be watching.”

“Who are you trying to impress?” Dan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No one. Everyone. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Renee chuckled softly “I don’t think Seth will like what you said.”

Allison’s gaze flicked to the doorway as Neil entered, fresh from his run. His hair was damp with sweat, his T-shirt clinging to his frame. He paused when he saw the three of them, as if he’d walked into something he didn’t want to be part of.

“Neil!” Allison called, waving him over.

Neil hesitated but walked into the room, „What?”

“You’re going to the Fall Banquet, right?” she asked, her tone deceptively casual.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I have no choice in this matter.” he replied cautiously.

“Do you have a date?”

Neil blinked. “No. Why would I need one?”

Allison gasped, clutching her chest like he’d just insulted her. “Neil, sweetie, you must have a date. It’s tradition. Everyone brings someone.”

“I don’t care about tradition,” Neil said flatly.

Allison leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Even Andrew has a date.”

Neil gave her a skeptical look. “Andrew doesn’t care about this stuff any more than I do.”

“Exactly, which is why it’s so shocking that he agreed. If he’s going, you definitely need to step it up.”

“I don’t need a date,” Neil said firmly.

Allison studied him for a moment, then sighed dramatically and threw up her hands. “Fine. Be boring. But don’t think I’m giving up on you.”

Neil shrugged, unconcerned, and started to leave the room.

As he walked out, Allison turned to Dan and Renee with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’ll give it a day. He’ll crack.”

Dan shook her head, laughing. “You’re relentless.”

Chapter Text

Neil pushed open the door to the common room, the crisp evening air still clinging to his skin. The sight before him was unusual: everyone was gathered together, even the Monsters. Matt and Dan were sprawled on the couch, their easy laughter filling the room. Renee and Nicky were camped out on the floor, blankets piled around them. Andrew perched on the arm of a chair, spinning a set of keys around his finger, while Aaron sat slouched with his phone. Allison and Seth were both standing near the door, ready to head out.

“Allison and Seth are going bar hopping,” Matt said, the sarcasm in his voice not even trying to hide his disapproval. “Another grand adventure.”

“I don’t see the issue,” Allison said, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she adjusted her jacket. “It’s just a night out.”

“You sure about that?” Nicky chimed in, sitting up with a frown. “After everything with Riko, you really want to go out, exposed like that?”

Allison’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean by that?”

Nicky crossed his arms, refusing to back down. “I mean, it could be risky. We’re not exactly under the radar anymore, and going out into public like that could bring unwanted attention.”

Seth, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “We’re not going to let some past drama stop us from living our lives.”

“Yeah, but you’re still making yourselves targets,” Nicky shot back.

“Enough, Nicky,” Dan interrupted. “They’re going out, let them do what they want.”

Nicky grumbled under his breath but remained quiet.

Neil, however, had been standing off to the side, mulling over what was going on. As he took it all in, an idea suddenly clicked into place.

“Instead of bar hopping,” Neil said, stepping forward, “why don’t we throw our own party?”

The room fell silent for a moment.

“A party?” Matt echoed, his expression skeptical. “What kind of party?”

“Team bonding, if you will,” Neil said, a small smile creeping up on his face. “We can get the team together, have a good time, but keep it within the safety of our own place. No risk of attracting unwanted attention. We can control the vibe, and it’ll be a way for everyone to actually unwind.”

Allison glanced at Seth, who shrugged. “I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” Seth said begrudgingly.

“I don’t know,” Allison started, clearly less than thrilled. “It’s not really the same as going out. I don’t think I’m in the mood for…whatever this is.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What, you’d rather go out and risk it? Be my guest. But I thought you’d be more about safety than unnecessary drama.”

“I… fine,” she said reluctantly, still clearly not happy. “But this better not be some lame team-building event.”

“I’ll make sure it’s fun,” Neil assured her with a smirk. “Trust me, I know how to throw a party.”

The room was filled with murmurs of approval.

“Yeah, this sounds like a better idea,” Dan said, her arms crossed but with a small smile playing at her lips.

Andrew, who had been silent up until now, leaned forward, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “We were going to Columbia,” he said, his tone flat.

Neil turned toward him, his eyes sharp. “You can go tomorrow. A day isn’t going to make a difference. Besides, a team event like this… it could be good for everyone. We don’t always have to do things solo.”

Andrew’s gaze narrowed, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He didn’t respond immediately, instead looking around the room at the other Foxes and Monsters.

After a long pause, Andrew exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if it goes south, it’s on you,” he said, finally giving in.

“That’s the spirit,” Neil said with a grin.

“I’m not happy about this,” Allison muttered, but she couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Great,” Neil said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s figure out the details. Party planning committee, assemble!”

The room buzzed with excited energy as plans began to form. For once, the team would come together not just as athletes, but as people, sharing in something that wasn’t about winning or competition. It might not have been what Allison and Seth originally envisioned for the night, but it was a step in a new direction.

And, for once, everyone could agree: it might be just what they all needed.

The common room was buzzing with energy as the Foxes worked together to get everything set up for their mini party. It was a rare occasion when the team put down their game faces and focused on something purely for fun, but it was coming together nicely.

Neil was the mastermind behind it all. With Allison and Nicky helping him, the three of them worked quickly to arrange the space. They moved the furniture around, setting up a small area for dancing, and cleared the floor for people to mingle. Neil had brought out a couple of his own decorations, a few fairy lights strung across the walls and a neon sign that read “Vibes Only” in bold, colorful letters. It felt like something fresh, something different.

“Is this really going to work?” Allison asked, adjusting a small table where drinks would be set up. Her arms were folded skeptically across her chest.

“Trust me, it’s going to be fine,” Neil assured her, giving her an encouraging smile.

Nicky, ever the optimist, was excitedly setting up a playlist of upbeat songs on the speakers. “I’ve got the music covered! Wait till you hear this mix, it’s going to be a vibe,” he said, a wink in his voice.

Across the room, Renee and Andrew were heading out the door to grab the alcohol.

“I swear, if this turns into some big, awkward moment,” Andrew muttered, already scanning his phone for the best places to grab a variety of drinks, “I’m not doing this again.”

Renee shot him a look that could’ve frozen water. “You’re doing it. We’re all doing it. Just relax for once.”

Meanwhile, Matt, Aaron, and Seth were stationed at a corner of the room, setting up the music. Matt was busy tuning the sound system, while Aaron was fiddling with the lighting, adjusting it to set the right mood. Seth, who didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the idea of a party, was nonetheless helping set the playlist.

Kevin, on the other hand, was already settled into a corner, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the scene with calm indifference. He didn’t need to help. He was there for the experience, a bit of alcohol and relaxation, nothing more.

Dan was in charge of snacks. She was meticulously arranging bowls of chips, pretzels, and other munchables on the counter. She’d even made sure there were some healthier options on hand, for those who wouldn’t be indulging in the drinks.

Thirty minutes later, the common room was almost completely transformed. The lights were dimmed just enough to create a cozy, intimate atmosphere. The drinks were stocked, the music was flowing, and the snacks were all set. Everyone was in place, ready for the night to officially start.

As the door swung open, Andrew and Renee walked in, carrying bags of alcohol. The moment they entered, everyone shifted into party mode. Andrew threw a sideways glance at Neil. “I’m not sure what you’ve got us into, but we’ve got the goods.”

“Perfect,” Neil said, already moving toward them to help unload.

With the alcohol now ready, the party officially began. The tension in the room, though still present in small pockets, started to melt away as everyone started to relax.

Nicky wasted no time. He grabbed a drink and handed it to Allison. “Let’s get this party started!”

Allison, begrudgingly accepting her drink, finally gave in. “You better make sure it’s not some weird mix, Nicky,” she warned, though she was smiling.

The music was now flowing in full force. The crowd moved around, chatting, laughing, and easing into the evening. Matt was already showing off some dance moves, with Aaron laughing beside him. Seth was mingling with Dan near the snacks, while Kevin sat back, enjoying his drink as if the whole thing was beneath him—but even he seemed to be in a better mood than usual.

Allison and Seth found themselves slowly letting go of their earlier tension, engaging in conversations with the others, and even dancing. Nicky and Dan were getting into the music, laughing and exchanging stories. Even Andrew, though he was still a bit standoffish, couldn’t help but occasionally join in the fun.

The atmosphere in the common room was now in full swing. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the laughter echoed off the walls. Neil, typically reserved and serious, was far from the type to let loose in front of the team. But tonight, the vibe was different. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way the music made his heart beat a little faster—but whatever it was, Neil was feeling it.

As the beat dropped, Neil glanced around the room. He saw Allison and Seth dancing together near the middle of the floor, with Matt and Nicky in a more exaggerated form of the same. Even Kevin had managed to nod along to the rhythm from his seat, his glass of whiskey still in hand. The dance floor was alive, but there was still a gap—no one was truly dominating the rhythm.

So, Neil decided to step up.

He moved toward the center, almost nonchalantly at first, then started to feel the music take over. His body began to move fluidly, hips swaying in time with the beat, feet sliding across the floor like he’d been dancing all his life. He wasn’t showing off—at least, not intentionally—but the way his body moved with the music, it was clear he was a natural.

“Damn, Neil!” Nicky shouted, grinning widely as he caught sight of him. “Where did that come from?”

Neil didn’t respond, too focused on the beat. His arms moved with practiced ease, adding in a few spins for good measure. His body was loose, his usual guarded expression replaced with a rare look of pure enjoyment. He wasn’t thinking about his image or how the others would perceive him—he was just in the moment.

As the song shifted into a faster tempo, Neil’s movements became sharper, more precise. He jumped into a quick footwork sequence, sliding back and forth, perfectly in sync with the rhythm. It was like he’d been dancing in this spot for years, even though no one had ever seen him move this way before.

The entire room stopped for a second, watching as Neil got lost in the music. There was a sense of awe, a shared disbelief that the stoic, quiet Neil Josten could be such a party animal. For once, he was carefree, his usual cool and calculated demeanor replaced by pure freedom.

“Alright, alright, I see you, Neil!” Matt laughed, stepping aside as he let Neil take over the dance floor.

Even Dan, who’d been setting snacks, raised her eyebrows in impressed surprise. "Didn’t know you had that in you, Hartford!"

Neil flashed a quick smile, though it didn’t last long as he was too caught up in the fun. His whole focus was on the dance, not on impressing anyone. But as the beats transitioned to something a little slower, he started to cool down, a satisfied grin still playing at the corners of his lips.

Unbeknownst to Neil, Andrew had been watching him from the edge of the room, his usual disinterested expression replaced with something faintly curious.

At first, Andrew hadn’t planned on staying for long. He had always felt out of place at events like this, the loud music and the chaotic energy rubbing against his tendency for solitude. But when he’d seen Neil move toward the center of the room, there was something that held him in place.

Andrew was used to observing people, to reading the situation before acting. He had seen Neil keep to himself, rarely interacting with others outside of the team context. But now, as Neil danced, Andrew couldn’t help but notice how effortless it seemed. There was a confidence in the way Neil moved, a fluidity that made it impossible to ignore.

The rest of the group continued to cheer, egging Neil on, but Andrew’s gaze was fixed solely on him. His usual indifference was pushed aside by something unexpected—something that felt like a pull, a magnetic force that made him want to keep watching, even though he would never admit it out loud.

Neil’s movements were so different from the calm, measured control Andrew was used to seeing. It was like watching a completely different person—someone who didn’t have to calculate every movement, someone who could let go of everything, if only for a moment.

Andrew didn’t understand it, and maybe that was why he found it so intriguing.

As the song changed and Neil slowed down, Andrew turned away quickly, acting like he’d been paying attention to something else the whole time. But a small part of him stayed tethered to that image of Neil, effortlessly owning the dance floor, and for a fleeting moment, Andrew wondered what it would be like to see that side of Neil more often.

But that was just a thought that passed by, and he didn’t let himself dwell on it for long.

Neil leaned back against the wall, observing the team. The mix of personalities was still there, of course. You had Kevin, who couldn’t be bothered, Matt’s easygoing nature, and Andrew’s dispassionate presence. But despite all that, for one night, it was clear they were all here as one—no rivalries, no tension, just people enjoying the rare moment of normalcy.

“You know,” Renee said, sidling up next to Neil as she sipped her drink, “this actually isn’t that bad.”

Neil shot her a grin. “Told you so.”

He watched as the rest of the team gradually fell into step with each other. Andrew, even if only for a moment, was relaxed. Allison and Seth had stopped worrying about the outside world. The whole group was experiencing what it meant to just be a team, without the constant pressure of competitions or outside expectations.

“Maybe this team bonding stuff isn’t such a bad idea after all,” Renee mused, her smile growing as she watched Aaron give Matt an uncharacteristic, amused smirk during a dance-off.

For once, Neil could only agree. They’d come together in a way he didn’t expect, and for once, it didn’t feel like they were just playing for a win on the field. They were just people.

And that made all the difference.

The common room was quiet now. The once lively chatter had faded into silence, the music no longer blaring through the speakers. Most of the Foxes had passed out, sprawled across the couches or the floor in varying states of unconsciousness, their bodies tired from dancing, drinking, and the sheer chaos of the night. The air in the room felt thick, the kind of warm, lazy stillness that always followed a night of high energy.

Neil sat up slowly on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, still feeling the rhythm of the night in his bones. His head felt heavy, but there was a strange clarity in the way he processed everything. The music, the chaos, the fleeting moments of connection—he could still hear them in his head, even as his body begged for rest.

He glanced around the room. Matt was snoring softly, his feet propped up on the coffee table, while Nicky and Seth had passed out with their heads resting on each other’s shoulders. Kevin sat upright in a chair, his head slumped, still holding a half-empty glass of vodka in his hand. The room looked like a battlefield, littered with empty bottles, snacks, and discarded cups.

But it was quiet now, and that’s when Neil noticed the figure standing by the window. Andrew. He hadn’t seemed to be affected by the alcohol the way everyone else had. Instead, he was leaning against the windowsill, staring out at the dark sky with an unreadable expression on his face. The faint glow from the city lights below barely illuminated his face.

Neil had almost forgotten he was still awake. After all, it wasn’t like Andrew to drink to the point of passing out.

“You’re still up,” Neil said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet but steady.

Andrew didn’t turn around at first, his focus still on the view outside. “You’re awake too,” he muttered, as if it were an observation rather than a question.

“Guess I’m not that drunk,” Neil replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Andrew pushed away from the window with a slight grunt, moving toward the door. “I’m going to the rooftop. Want to join?”

Neil raised an eyebrow, unsure of why Andrew would suddenly offer. The idea of being on the rooftop in the dead of night, away from the party, didn’t seem that bad. It was the kind of space that allowed for some quiet, for moments that didn’t need to be filled with words. Andrew was always distant, but tonight, there was something different about him, something more open, if only for a moment. Maybe the alcohol had done that to him too.

Without much thought, Neil nodded. “Sure. I could use some air.”

The stairs creaked as they made their way up to the rooftop, the noise of the party fading completely behind them. The cool night air hit Neil’s face as soon as they stepped outside. The city spread out before them, the twinkling lights like stars in the distance. The quiet was a sharp contrast to the chaos below. It was just the two of them, standing on the edge of the building, looking out at the city they called home.

Neil had always liked the rooftop. It was his place to think, to get away from the noise, from the weight of his responsibilities. And tonight, with the alcohol still buzzing in his system, it felt even more welcome.

Andrew didn’t waste any time. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Neil was already reaching for his own pack from his jacket, lighting it without a second thought. He inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar burn in his lungs.

They stood there in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, the only sound the occasional flick of the lighter or the exhale of smoke into the night air.

Andrew, who had been watching the city skyline with a distant, almost bored expression, flicked his cigarette butt over the edge of the building and turned to face Neil. There was something different in his eyes tonight, a slight shift, though still guarded.

“You’re coming to Columbia with us next weekend,” Andrew said, his voice flat, as if it were more of a statement than a question.

Neil looked at him, surprised. “Are you seriously asking me that after last time?”

“Yeah,” Andrew replied, his tone still neutral. “We’re planning to head out there, get away for the weekend. I want you there with us.”

Neil took a moment to think. The idea of going to Columbia was tempting, but he wasn’t sure about it after what had happened last time. In the end he decided that he wanted to have fun and get to know their group better. There was just something appealing in their company.

But Neil wasn’t the type to do things without getting something in return. “I’ll go,” he said after a pause. “But you’re going to come to the movie night tomorrow. All of you. No backing out.”

Andrew’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t argue. Neil had a feeling Andrew wasn’t one to be easily swayed, but this wasn’t a request. It was a deal. “Movie night?” Andrew repeated, the words leaving his mouth with a hint of amusement. “You want me to come to your little movie night with the rest of the team?”

Neil nodded. “Yep. If you want me to go to Columbia with you, you’re going to join the team tomorrow night. No excuses.”

Andrew studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Neil could almost see the gears turning in Andrew's head, weighing his options. For all his distance and indifference, Neil knew Andrew had his own way of playing things out, deciding when to push and when to give in.

Finally, Andrew sighed, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

Neil felt a small victory in his chest, though he kept his face neutral. “It’s a deal then.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer, each of them lost in their thoughts. It wasn’t often that Andrew agreed to these kinds of compromises, and Neil was pleased to have won this one. It was small, but it mattered—especially when it came to having the Monsters around, even if they were stubborn and difficult.

“I expect you to actually show up and participate tomorrow.” Neil said, a smirk creeping onto his face.

Andrew didn’t respond, but there was a quiet agreement in his gaze. He pushed himself off the railing and gave Neil a glance. “Let’s head back down. Before I end up pushing you off this rooftop.”

Neil didn’t reply. He simply followed Andrew toward the door, but before he opened it, he paused for a moment, taking one last look at the city. For once, it felt like things were starting to fall into place, even if only for a night.

As they stepped inside, Neil couldn’t help but wonder how the movie night would go. With the Monsters in the mix, it was bound to be an interesting experience.

Chapter Text

Neil sat cross-legged on the roof of Fox Tower; his phone pressed to his ear. The city’s early morning air was crisp, cloaked in a profound stillness that seemed to stretch endlessly.

The line clicked, and Emma’s voice came through, lively as ever.

“About time you called! I was beginning to think you’d finally snapped and thrown your phone into the nearest lake,” she teased.

Neil smirked, leaning back against the cold metal railing. “Not yet. But let’s not cross it as a possibility.”

“Charming as always,” Emma replied, her tone softening. “How are you? And for the love of God don’t give me the usual vague excuses.”

Neil smiled. He could almost picture her on the other end of the line, lounging in her London flat, one leg tucked beneath her as she sipped her drink.

“I’m good,” he said. “Things have been really well actually.”

Emma paused for a beat, her voice curious. "Really? That’s... not the usual cryptic answer I was expecting."

Neil chuckled, glancing out over the city below. The lights of downtown twinkled like distant stars, their glow mixing with the soft orange hue of the early morning sun. It had been a strange few days, but things were starting to feel a little more settled. Maybe even a little... normal, in a way.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, the weight of the past few months lifting slightly. "The team's... good. We’ve had some time to relax, get to know each other a bit better. It’s been nice. Like, a real team bonding thing." He paused, unsure if he should go further. "Even Andrew’s been... well, less of a pain."

Emma’s laughter was quick, a familiar sound that grounded Neil. "I’ll believe it when I see it. But I’m glad things are going better. You’re actually talking about the Foxes like they’re... well, people now. What happened to the ‘just here for the game’ routine?"

Neil snorted. "Turns out, I can’t avoid them forever." He leaned back further, his fingers gripping the railing lightly. "I mean, it’s been good. We did this mini party the other night. It wasn’t a big deal, but everyone seemed to enjoy it."

Emma’s voice immediately shifted, now laced with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. "Wait. You’re telling me that the team had a party without me? And you—you didn’t even mention it?"

He winced. "Yeah... it wasn’t planned. It kind of just happened."

"Right," Emma drawled, her tone dripping with disbelief. "So, a spontaneous party with everyone except me? Really, Neil?"

"I know, I know," he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I wasn’t even thinking. It wasn’t supposed to be anything big. Just a few people hanging out and then—well, it kind of turned into more of a party."

Emma sighed, though it didn’t sound as harsh as Neil expected. "I get it. It’s fine. But next time, maybe give me a heads-up? You know, since I’m apparently the only one who didn’t get the memo about the ‘team bonding.’"

He could hear her trying to suppress a smile, and he let out a relieved breath. "Its not like you are five minutes away, but sure. I’ll make sure you’re the first person I call next time, I promise."

"Better," Emma replied, the tone of her voice softening again. "So, tell me about this 'party' then. Was it just dancing and awkward small talk?"

Neil grinned at her teasing tone, shaking his head. "You could say that. But... honestly, I didn’t expect to have that much fun. Even Andrew got pulled into it."

"Andrew? No way," Emma said, her disbelief genuine. "Are we talking about the same Andrew here?"

"Yeah, the one and only," Neil said with a smirk, shaking his head at the thought. "It was... surprising. But, I think even he had a good time. I don’t know, the whole night kind of just worked, in a way I didn’t expect."

"Well, I’m glad to hear that," Emma replied, sounding more at ease now. "Even the infamous Andrew has his moments, huh?"

Neil could feel his smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Seems like it."

After a brief pause, Emma’s voice softened again. "I’m glad things are going well for you, Neil. It’s been a while since I heard you sound... I don’t know, this relaxed."

His gaze drifted toward the horizon, the sky lightening as the sun climbed higher. "Yeah, it’s been a rough ride, but... I think I’m starting to get used to it. These guys aren’t as bad as I thought."

Emma's laugh was warm. "You’re finally admitting that, huh?"

"Maybe." Neil shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. "It’s different now. I guess I’m not just the outsider anymore."

"And that’s a good thing," Emma said, her voice soft and approving. "But don’t forget where you came from, okay?"

"I won’t," Neil said quietly, looking out over the city one last time before pushing himself up from the railing. "Thanks for always having my back, Em. I don’t say it enough, but I mean it."

There was a long pause, then Emma’s voice came through again, warmer than before. "You don’t have to say it. Just don’t forget I’m here when you need me."

Neil smiled, feeling a little more grounded than before. "I won’t. Talk soon?"

"Yeah. Take care of yourself, Neil."

"Always." He ended the call and let out a long breath, his mind feeling a little clearer, a little more at peace. The connection with Emma, though distant at times, was a constant in his life—a reminder that even in the chaos, some things didn’t change.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool morning air, before heading back inside.

As Neil pushed open the door to the common room, the low hum of the morning greeted him, mixing with the soft, muted light spilling through the windows. The room was still quiet, save for the soft rustle of blankets and the occasional snore from a few of the Foxes still passed out on the couches and floor.

It was no surprise to find Kevin in the same spot he'd collapsed the night before, sprawled out on the couch, his body curled tightly as if he'd been knocked out cold by the weight of the alcohol. But what was surprising was Seth.

Seth was sitting on the couch opposite Kevin, his eyes half-lidded but clearly awake. His hair was a mess from the night before, and the lingering evidence of last night’s drinks was etched in the faint lines of exhaustion under his eyes. Still, he looked much better than Neil had expected, especially after how much the guy had drunk.

Neil raised an eyebrow, eyeing Seth as he crossed the room to get to his room and change for his morning run. "You're up already?" he asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Seth met his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a smirk. "Shocked, aren’t you?" he teased, leaning back in his seat. Seth chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial tone:

"I’m not sure how you’re still alive though. I saw you last night—drinking just as much as Kevin, if not more. And now, look at you."

Neil shrugged, grabbing his sneakers from the side of the bed and pulling them on. "Believe me when I tell you-I have had more." He was about to leave when Seth called out to him.

"Hey, since you're so chipper, how about joining me on a run?" Seth asked, half-grinning as if daring Neil to back out. "I’m going for my usual route this morning. You in?"

Neil stopped for a second, considering it. Running is a part of his daily routine, but he didn’t usually go with anyone else. It was his time to think, clear his head, and deal with the chaos of his life. Still, something about Seth’s challenge was tempting.

Seth raised an eyebrow, reading Neil’s hesitation. "C’mon. You’ve got nothing better to do."

Neil couldn’t help but smirk at Seth’s jab. "Alright, fine," he said, finally giving in. "But I’m not going easy on you."

Seth’s grin widened. "Wouldn’t expect anything less."

With that, Neil grabbed his jacket and headed out the door with Seth, already feeling the cool morning air against his skin. It was shaping up to be an interesting run, especially considering he hadn’t run with anyone in quite a while.

As they walked to the front entrance, Neil found himself wondering what this run would be like. Normally, it was just him and the road, but now he had Seth—a guy who was just as unpredictable as the rest of the team. For some reason, the idea of running alongside him didn’t feel so bad.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Seth said, glancing at Neil with a mischievous look in his eyes.

Neil smirked, feeling the adrenaline already beginning to kick in. "You’ll be eating my dust."

As Neil and Seth jogged through the quiet morning streets, the rhythmic sound of their footfalls seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the city’s calm. The air was cool, the sunlight beginning to filter through the buildings, and for a moment, it felt like everything was normal. But Neil had already noticed something.

He’d picked up on the shadow trailing them about a mile back. At first, it was subtle—a pair of footsteps following a little too closely. Then, as they turned onto quieter streets, the figure stayed in the periphery, never too close but never far enough to be forgotten. It was like being stalked without the usual obvious signs, but Neil's instincts were sharp, honed from years of running and evading.

He didn’t say anything to Seth at first. It wasn’t until they were approaching an alleyway, the perfect place to cut off any would-be pursuers, that Neil slowed down and motioned to Seth.

"Follow me," he said, his voice low but firm. Seth, slightly out of breath, shot him a curious glance but didn’t question it, following Neil without hesitation. They made a sharp turn into the alley, their footsteps echoing against the narrow walls as they positioned themselves in the shadows, waiting.

Moments later, the man followed, unaware of the trap laid out for him. As he stepped into the alley, the sudden shift in air pressure made him freeze. Neil stepped forward, blocking the exit and narrowing the space between them. Seth didn’t move, his gaze on the stranger, confused but sensing the tension rising.

Neil’s tone was cold, his eyes hard as steel as he looked the man up and down. "Who are you?"

The man didn’t respond immediately, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Neil’s patience began to thin, his instincts telling him this was no coincidence.

"Who sent you?" Neil asked, voice steely.

Still no answer. Neil’s eyes flicked toward Seth, who looked more bewildered by the second. He was about to press harder when the man’s silence became intolerable.

Sighing, Neil reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming in the dull light. He stepped closer to the man, his movements calculated and precise. Without warning, Neil grabbed the man and shoved him up against the wall. The sharp edge of the blade pressed under the man's collarbone. The position of the knife was deliberate—a lethal threat.

The man froze, his breath catching.

"Tell me who sent you," Neil growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The man’s eyes widened, his throat visibly tightening. He was about to speak when Neil applied a little more pressure, just enough to make the man’s pulse spike.

“I-I can’t—” the man stuttered, his words trembling.

Neil’s patience wore thin, his hand steady with the knife. "The subclavian arteries are lifelines, pumping blood to your head, neck, and arms. But if they’re punctured? That lifeline turns into a countdown. The blood pours out fast—too fast. If no one seals the wound in time, your vision blurs, your body goes cold, and then… nothing. Now, unless you want to find out exactly how many seconds it takes before you collapse in a lifeless heap, you’re going to tell me who sent you." he repeated, this time his voice a growl.

The man’s face paled, sweat dripping from his brow as he caved. "Riko. Riko Moriyama"

Neil’s eyes narrowed. „Why?”

The man hurriedly answers. „To attack one of you. He didn’t specify on who.”

 "Tell Riko to fuck off or I will make he doesn’t live long enough to see his daddy proud of him."

Neil held his gaze for a moment longer, then, without another word, he knocked the man out with a well-placed blow to the side of his head, dropping him unconscious to the ground.

Neil stepped back, the tension in his shoulders easing as he surveyed the now-unconscious figure in the alley. Seth, standing frozen a few feet away, stared at Neil, his mouth slightly agape.

"Jesus, Neil," Seth muttered under his breath, his eyes wide. "You— You’re a freaking psychopath."

Neil didn’t respond, the edge of the situation slowly dissipating as he turned away from the man and began walking back down the alley toward the street. "No. I’m just smart enough to take care of myself when someone’s being sent to follow me."

Seth shook his head, still in disbelief, before falling into step behind Neil. "What was this about? Who is this man?"

Neil glanced back at Seth, eyes hardening for a second. "It seems Riko's send someone after us. And I don’t plan on being anyone’s target."

The two of them continued in silence for a few moments, the day now feeling a little heavier, the weight of Neil’s words hanging in the air.

Seth was clearly trying to process what just happened, his mind racing. "I thought you were just quiet, but you—" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

Neil simply shrugged, the weight of the moment already slipping off his shoulders. "Don’t worry about it."

And just like that, the brief encounter with the stranger faded into the background of their run, leaving the adrenaline of the moment behind, replaced by the familiar quiet of the morning. But in the back of his mind, Neil knew one thing for certain: the next time Riko or anyone else came for them, he’d be ready.

As Neil and Seth made their way back to the dorms, their footsteps echoing in the quiet streets, the sun had begun to rise fully, casting a soft golden hue over the city. The cool air still hung around them, the remnants of the morning chill brushing against their skin as they jogged at a leisurely pace. The run had been uneventful after the little scare in the alley, but Neil couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still off. He kept his senses sharp, his mind running through the possibilities of who else might be gunning for him and the rest of the Foxes.

Seth, on the other hand, seemed much more relaxed. He was in his element, taking long strides, his breathing even and steady. The events of the morning, particularly their brief confrontation with the man, hadn’t seemed to bother him as much. But then again, Seth was always a bit more carefree, unbothered by the chaos that Neil seemed to attract.

“So,” Seth finally broke the silence, glancing over at Neil with a grin, “You’re like… a walking, talking ball of danger, huh?”

Neil shot him a look, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “You learn to be careful, Seth.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect that level of careful.” Seth laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, damn. That was some next-level stuff. Are you always that... intense?”

Neil didn’t respond immediately, his mind still processing everything that had happened. Instead, he just shrugged, giving Seth a small nod. “Only when I need to be.”

Seth, clearly still processing the fact that he’d just witnessed the other side of Neil, looked like he was about to say something else but stopped. Neil wasn’t in the mood for a long conversation anyway. They were nearly back at the dorms, the familiar sight of the building rising before them, and Neil’s thoughts turned to the rest of the team.

By the time they reached the door, it was clear that most of the Foxes had already started waking up. The door creaked open, and they stepped inside, the quiet hum of the dorm filling their ears. As they made their way through the common room, Neil glanced around.

Matt, Dan, and Aaron were all sitting on the couch, a few empty bags of chips scattered around them. They were already chatting amongst themselves, with the occasional laugh and playful banter. It looked like the aftermath of their own mini party was still lingering in the air.

“Hey, you guys survived the night, huh?” Seth called out with a grin, dropping onto one of the chairs, stretching out his legs.

Aaron groaned dramatically, stretching his arms over his head. “Barely. I feel like a damn zombie. This whole team bonding thing has me wiped out.”

Matt chuckled. “Yeah, next time, we’re sticking to a movie night or something quieter.”

Dan, looking a little more put together than the others, flashed a grin in their direction. “You guys are the last ones back from the run? Impressive. I thought Neil was the only one crazy enough to be up this early.”

Neil didn’t say anything, just nodded in acknowledgment. The truth was, he had no real interest in being social right now. But Seth, always the extrovert, chimed in.

“We had a bit of an adventure on our run,” Seth said, his voice light, though he was looking over at Neil with a raised eyebrow. “Had a guy tailing us.”

Matt’s eyes sharpened at the mention of it, and even Dan raised an eyebrow. “A guy? What happened?”

Neil’s gaze flicked over to Seth, who quickly caught the hint to leave out the details of their confrontation with the man. "It was nothing," Seth said nonchalantly. "Just some guy trying to be sneaky. Neil handled it."

The others exchanged curious glances, but before they could press further, a voice rang from the hallway.

"Where’s Kevin?" Dan asked, looking around. "I thought he was up by now."

Matt shook his head. “He’s still passed out. Nicky, too.”

"Those two went hard," Seth added with a laugh, collapsing back into the chair. "Though, I’m pretty sure they’re still sleeping it off."

Just as the conversation started to fade into background noise, the door to the common room opened, and Kevin walked in, rubbing his eyes. He gave them all a glance, then let out a groggy, "What’d I miss?"

Everyone else was already milling about, either sorting through snack bags or making coffee, the quiet murmur of the dorm now filling the space. Neil, however, felt a strange sense of detachment as he moved toward his room. It was the aftermath of everything—the party, the confrontation, and even the lingering tension from Riko’s hireling.

He didn’t need to be surrounded by noise and chatter to know what was coming next.

But for now, the morning had passed without further incident, and all Neil wanted was a moment of peace to let everything settle before the chaos began again.

The gym smelled of rubber and sweat, the faint echo of clanking weights filling the air. The Foxes had gathered for their usual workout, and despite the chaos from the night before and the unsettling encounter with the man on their run, they all seemed to fall into their routines as if nothing had happened.

Neil was already halfway through his warm-up, stretching his legs and loosening up his muscles. He didn't usually mind the grind of a good workout—it was a distraction, something to focus on. The Foxes had their unique way of handling things, and this was just another part of that, a shared moment of focus and movement. It kept everyone grounded.

Seth was next to him, getting into position for his set of squats, though he couldn't help but glance around at the rest of the team. The rest of the Foxes were spread out across the gym, each doing their own thing—some lifting weights, some running on the treadmill, while others worked on flexibility or agility drills.

"Hey, guys, since we’re all here, might as well get into the details about this morning," Seth said, his voice casual as he adjusted the weight on the barbell. "The guy who followed us. Here’s the rundown."

Everyone stopped for a moment, their attention turning to Seth. Even Andrew, who was lifting weights nearby, glanced up, though his expression was typically unreadable.

Neil rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath before he refocused on his stretching. He didn’t really want to rehash everything, but he knew they were all itching for answers. Seth, as always, was happy to supply them.

“So, we were running, right?” Seth continued, holding the barbell above his head for a moment before gently lowering it back down. “We noticed this guy tailing us. Kind of suspicious-looking, wearing a hoodie and keeping his distance. When Neil cornered him, he didn’t say much at first. But when Neil, uh, made things more... persuasive, the guy finally opened up.”

Neil tried not to let his gaze wander, but part of him was keenly aware that everyone was now watching him. His heart rate picked up slightly, but he ignored the sensation.

Seth paused for a moment, letting the tension build. “Turns out, he was hired by Riko,” Seth finished, his voice flat. “To... well, make things difficult. Not much else to it.”

Matt and Dan exchanged a look, their faces a mix of concern and disbelief. “So Riko's sending people after us now?” Matt asked, his voice edged with frustration.

Neil didn’t respond, just gave a small nod. He didn’t need to say more. Everyone had seen the lengths Riko would go to in order to make things difficult for the Foxes. No need to add fuel to the fire.

As the team processed the information, Neil’s focus shifted. He could feel his eyes drawn to the far corner of the gym, where Andrew was working out. He wasn’t really trying to watch, but there was something magnetic about the way Andrew lifted. He wasn’t just focused; he was intense, pushing through each rep with a precision that was almost hypnotic. The weight on the barbell was almost triple what Neil had ever attempted, yet Andrew was handling it with ease, barely breaking a sweat.

Neil’s heart gave an unexpected lurch as his gaze stayed fixed for a moment longer than necessary. He quickly looked away, shaking off the uncomfortable fluttering in his chest.

Instead, he turned his focus back to his own workout. He grabbed a dumbbell, adjusting his grip, and began his sets. The tension in his arms and shoulders started to ground him again, the steady rhythm of his movements blocking out everything else. He needed to concentrate, to feel the muscles working, and he didn’t have the luxury to be distracted.

Andrew’s presence, however, lingered at the back of his mind. Despite the strong desire to focus, Neil couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly Andrew seemed to glide through his own workout, even as the rest of the Foxes made their own grunts of exertion.

It wasn’t just physical strength that made Andrew stand out; it was the way he commanded the room without saying a word. His discipline, his focus, it all made the gym seem like his territory. And maybe, just maybe, it was that silent power that made Neil’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to admit.

He clenched his jaw and pushed through another set of curls, determined to keep his mind away from thoughts that didn’t belong there.

The rest of the team continued their workouts, their movements more casual than Neil’s and Andrew’s intense, hyper-focused approach. The gym hummed with the noise of clanking weights, sneakers squeaking against the rubber floors, and the occasional breathless remark as someone pushed through the final set of reps.

"Alright, let's wrap it up," Andrew’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a whip, causing Neil to look up, still trying to maintain his own balance.

As the workout started to wind down, Seth was the first to speak, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group "So, what's on the agenda for today? Any surprises coming up, or are we just going to lay low?"

Matt, who was adjusting his weights nearby, chuckled softly and turned to face Seth. "Come on, you know what today is." He grinned. "Movie night."

Seth froze for a moment, realization dawning on him. "Right. Movie night." He let out a sigh, clearly unimpressed, but there was an underlying humor in his voice. "Well, at least it’s a break from the drama. We’ve had enough of that recently."

Matt shrugged, still grinning. "Yeah, it's a nice change of pace. No Riko, no stalkers. Just us, popcorn, and a movie."

Neil, who had been quietly wiping down his equipment, nodded in agreement, trying to ignore the lingering thoughts about Andrew and their earlier workout. “It’ll be a good distraction. We all need it.”

Seth smirked, clearly more at ease now that the tension of the day had momentarily faded. “Alright, I’m in. Just as long as it’s not one of those weird documentaries you always try to get us to watch, Matt.”

Matt raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I’m not forcing you to watch them. But I’ll be damned if I’m missing the latest true crime series. That stuff’s fascinating."

Nicky, who had been leaning against the wall, joined in with a laugh. “I think we can all agree on one thing—no horror movies this time. I’m still having nightmares from that one we watched last month.”

"Deal," Matt said quickly. "No horror. But we’re watching something fun. And no documentaries."

Neil grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, his muscles still sore from the workout, but at least the tension in the air seemed to have eased. It had been a long couple of days—what with the encounter with the stalker and the lingering threat from Riko—but the night promised something different. A brief reprieve from everything weighing them down.

“Alright, movie night it is,” Neil said, stepping toward the door, the rest of the team following suit. “Let’s just hope there’s something worth watching.”

Nicky grinned. "I was thinking about one movie Eric told me about."

Aaron grounded. “I hope it’s not another R-rated movie because I am not watching shit like that again.”

Nicky shot him an exaggerated glare, but before he can say something Kevin chipped in. “Nicky don’t bother protesting, we all know what movies you and Erik like to watch.”

Nicky pouted, but didn’t say anything.

And with that, the Foxes made their way to the common room, ready to unwind and put the world on pause for a few hours. There would be time for dealing with everything else later. Tonight was for them.

The Foxes filtered into the common room, excited for their usual movie night, chatting and laughing as they took their seats. The room quickly filled up with energy as each of them found a spot to settle in, but the seating arrangements quickly became a problem. Matt, Kevin and Nicky claimed the couch first, with Seth and Renee fighting over the last good seat on the beanbag. Dan staked out her corner near the window, while Aaron lounged nearby, and Allison found a spot near the door.

Neil stood by the couch, scanning the room for a place to sit. There were a few spots left, but none that felt comfortable enough. He could always squeeze in somewhere, but tonight, it seemed that every spot had already been claimed. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking over to Andrew, who was sitting by the far side of the couch, arms crossed and leaning back against the cushions, his attention fixed on something other than the movie.

Andrew was known for his need for personal space, and everyone in the Foxes knew better than to crowd him. But with no other options, Neil made a decision.

“Hey,” Neil said, his voice casual, though he could already feel the weight of Andrew’s usual aloofness bearing down on him. “Mind if I sit here?”

There was a brief pause. Andrew didn’t immediately respond. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, unsure of what would happen next. After all, this was Andrew—the one who usually kept to himself and kept everyone at a distance. No one had ever dared to break that rule.

For a moment, there was no answer, and Neil almost started to reconsider his choice. But then, surprisingly, Andrew spoke.

 “Fine,” he muttered, his tone as flat as ever. “If you can keep quiet.”

The response was so much easier than Neil had expected, and it threw him off guard for a second. Andrew had just agreed. No sarcasm, no resistance, just… agreement.

Neil blinked, then smirked slightly, sliding into the spot next to Andrew with a shrug. He had expected to have to argue or wait until the next round of movie rotations.

The other Foxes exchanged surprised glances, clearly not expecting Andrew to give in so easily.

“Wow, Andrew actually gave up his seat,” Nicky teased, half-amused and half-baffled. “That’s a new one.”

Matt grinned, watching as Neil settled in next to Andrew. “That’s a win in itself. Next we’ll see Neil teaching Andrew how to relax.”

Andrew barely reacted, but the corner of his mouth twitched as he slouched back into his seat, clearly not interested in the conversation around him. He wasn’t exactly showing any signs of comfort, but for now, he seemed fine with Neil being there.

Neil, sensing that Andrew was still being Andrew, tried to keep quiet and settled in, leaning back a little in his spot, making sure not to crowd him. To his surprise, the space between them was comfortable, and there was something oddly peaceful about sitting next to Andrew, despite his usual cold demeanor.

The rest of the Foxes let the moment pass and settled into their seats, quietly making jokes and remarks as the movie finally started. But Neil couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter. Maybe, just maybe, they were beginning to break down some of the walls that had kept them all apart for so long.

As the movie played on, the room fell into a kind of easy silence, broken only by occasional laughter or comments. Even Andrew, the stoic enigma of the group, seemed to be less tense than usual, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the screen. Neil felt a strange sense of belonging, a rare feeling he had only just begun to experience with the Foxes. It wasn’t perfect—there was still a long way to go—but it was something.

The night rolled on, the movie long forgotten as the group slipped into comfortable conversation, occasional bursts of laughter filling the room. The chaos of their lives seemed a world away for a little while. The alcohol, the dancing, the awkwardness of their past interactions, it was all pushed to the side for now.

By the time the movie ended and the room began to empty out, most of the Foxes were in varying states of relaxation, some heading for their rooms to sleep, others lounging about in quiet conversation.

Matt, always the instigator, glanced at Neil and asked, “So, who’s up for a late-night snack run? I’ve got a craving for fries and something ridiculous.”

Kevin groaned from where he was sprawled on the couch. "Are you serious? It’s like three in the morning, Matt. And fries? Do you know how much fat they have"

Nicky leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. "Fries do sound good."

Renee rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement on her face. "I’m out, but good luck, guys."

Neil glanced at Andrew, who seemed to be standing and stretching, making his way toward the door. Without thinking, Neil followed him. “I’m in for a snack run,” Neil said, his tone casual, though the quiet hum of curiosity lingered in his voice.

Seth raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. "You two are a bunch of troublemakers," he muttered, but the rest of the group was too comfortable to care.

Matt grinned, giving a thumbs-up. "Awesome. See you guys in a bit."

And just like that, the night had somehow turned into one of the most enjoyable moments they’d shared in a while. A small victory in their strange, unpredictable world.

Chapter Text

Friday morning came with the same predictability that the rest of Neil’s week had carried. Nothing of note had happened: classes came and went in a blur of lectures and assignments, practice was grueling but effective, and his nightly runs continued to be his solitary refuge. Even his conversations with Emma had been tame, consisting mostly of her teasing and updates about her life.

But now, as Neil finished tugging on his hoodie in preparation for his morning classes, a nagging thought came to the forefront of his mind.

He still didn’t have Andrew’s number.

The realization struck him as mildly irritating. He’d managed to adjust to Andrew’s cryptic and unpredictable ways, but not having his number made communication inconvenient—especially with their upcoming trip to Columbia. Neil had a feeling Andrew wasn’t the type to voluntarily offer his contact information, so he’d have to ask.

"I’ll deal with it during lunch," Neil muttered under his breath, slipping his backpack over his shoulder.

With that decision made, he grabbed his notebook and headed out the door.

Neil’s attempt to find Andrew during lunch turned out to be a fruitless endeavor. He had checked the cafeteria, the gym, and even the edges of the field where Andrew sometimes loitered during breaks, but there was no sign of him. Frustration started to gnaw at Neil’s patience.

If Andrew wasn’t deliberately avoiding him, he had to be somewhere he didn’t frequent often—or maybe he just decided to vanish.

Neil sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the cafeteria. “I’ll just ask him in Columbia,” he muttered, though the thought only added to his growing irritation. He didn’t even know when they were supposed to leave for Columbia.

Resigned, Neil decided to step outside for a smoke to clear his head. The brisk autumn air bit at his cheeks as he made his way toward the dormitory’s exit, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

As he reached the door, his mind still tangled in his plans, Neil collided into someone hard enough to make him stumble. When he looked up he saw Andrew standing there, expression unreadable.

Neil blinked, quickly stepping back. “Sorry,” he said, his words automatic.

Andrew tilted his head slightly, not moving from where he stood. His sharp gaze swept over Neil, making him feel like he was being measured.

Seeing his chance, Neil took a deep breath. “Since you’re here, I need your number,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smirk. “Why?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “For Columbia. If I don’t have your number, how am I supposed to know when we’re leaving?”

Andrew didn’t respond right away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it up. “Give me yours.”

Neil recited his number, and Andrew entered it into his phone with deliberate precision. A moment later, Neil’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a message from an unknown number:

Andrew. Don’t make me regret this.

Neil huffed a small laugh. “Thanks.”

Andrew didn’t reply, just shrugged and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Neil standing in the doorway.

Neil glanced at the text again and smiled faintly, the lingering frustration of the day dissolving.

The early afternoon sun filtered through the trees as Neil stretched his legs outside Fox Tower, preparing for his run. The crisp air nipped at his skin, a reminder of the season's steady march toward winter. Normally, he’d save his runs for the evening when the campus was quieter, but with the trip to Columbia later, his routine needed adjusting.

As he loosened his shoulders, Neil pulled out his phone. Andrew’s number stared back at him from his contacts list, freshly added and almost foreign among the familiar names. He hesitated for a moment before typing out a simple text.

Neil: What time are we leaving tonight?

Hitting send, Neil pocketed the phone and set off. He didn’t expect an immediate response—if Andrew responded at all. Andrew’s selective attention to messages wasn’t exactly a secret.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet against the pavement soon consumed his focus, the steady cadence a welcome distraction. His breath came in even bursts as he picked up the pace, his mind drifting into the clarity running always seemed to bring.

It wasn’t until the vibration in his pocket pulled him out of his thoughts that Neil slowed to a jog and fished out his phone.

Andrew: 7 PM.

Neil stared at the screen, the simple text bringing an unexpected jolt of warmth to his chest.  A small, unbidden smile tugged at Neil’s lips. He shook his head at himself, slipping the phone back into his pocket and resuming his run, his strides lighter than before.

He didn’t bother unpacking the odd joy he felt at Andrew’s reply. It didn’t need dissecting—it just was.

Neil returned to Fox Tower with his pulse steady from the run, his breathing evening out as he checked the time on his phone. 4:30 PM. He had just enough time to shower and get ready before the trip to Columbia.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Neil made it to his dorm and grabbed a towel, heading straight for the bathroom. He turned the water on and let it heat up while he gathered his products, a mix of items he wouldn’t have chosen for himself. Emma had been relentless in her insistence that he upgrade his routine, and Neil had long since resigned himself to following her advice if only to avoid another one of her impassioned lectures.

The steam filled the small space as Neil stepped under the spray, tilting his head back and letting the water cascade through his hair. He reached for the shampoo first, the bottle promising a “high-shine, salon-quality finish.” The floral scent was overpowering at first, but he worked it through his hair methodically, following it with conditioner. He hated how much he liked the result—it left his hair softer and more manageable than anything he’d used before.

Next came the body wash, another unnecessarily expensive product with an herbal scent that lingered longer than it should. Neil scrubbed away the sweat and grime from his run, making sure every trace was gone before rinsing off.

Once he stepped out, he grabbed a towel and ran it briskly through his hair before wrapping it around his waist. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, skin flushed from the hot water. He used to hate his reflection, sometimes he still do, but with Emma’s help he finally saw that even though he looked like his father he wasn’t him.

Emma’s voice echoed in his head as he reached for the deodorant and body lotion she had insisted on. The lotion was admittedly effective, leaving his skin smooth and hydrated in a way that felt strangely indulgent. Neil shook his head as he applied it, muttering under his breath, “Emma wins again.”

The real challenge, however, was waiting for him back in his room. Neil threw open his closet, scanning the rows of clothes with growing frustration. Everything felt either too casual or too formal, and the rare occasions when he had to dress for something outside of practice or running errands always left him at a loss.

Normally, he didn’t overthink what he wore—he had a solid grasp of what worked for him. But tonight felt different. The prospect of spending time with Andrew… and the others had him second-guessing everything.

It wasn’t like he was dressing for Andrew, he told himself, even as the thought of Andrew’s sharp, assessing gaze sent a wave of nervous energy through him. After a few minutes of deliberation, Neil sighed and reached for his phone, dialing Emma.

She picked up on the second ring, her tone light and teasing. “Neil Josten, calling me twice in one week? Did hell freeze over, or do you finally realized how lost you are without me?”

“I need help,” Neil admitted.

There was a pause, then she burst out laughing. “You’re serious. Okay, this is a first. What’s the situation?”

“I don’t know what to wear tonight,” Neil said, eyeing his options with growing frustration.

“Where are you going?” Emma’s voice sharpened, her curiosity piqued.

“Columbia. With Andrew and his group” Neil replied, his voice casual.

Emma blinked in shock. “After what happened? Are you that big of an idiot?!”

Neil sighed, trying to calm her down. “I know, I know, but as I told you, Andrew apologized in his own way, and we’re fine. This trip is supposed to make things between us better.”

Emma raised an eyebrow “You know, I think your crush on him is showing right now since you are acting like a total moron.”

“I don’t have a crush on Andrew!” Neil snapped.

Emma chuckled. “I never specify on who. But you just confirm what I already knew”

Neil fell silent, the words escaping him. He had no comeback for that so he tried to change the subject “Will you help me or not?”

Emma smirked triumphantly. “Alright, listen up. You need casual but effortlessly cool. What do you have in black?”

“Everything,” Neil deadpanned.

Emma snorted. “Fair enough. Alright, listen. Black wide-legged jeans. A fitted tank top—tight enough to show off a bit, but not suffocating. And top it off with that wide leather jacket Dad gave you last Christmas. Trust me, you’ll look great. And if you have any chains, throw them on.”

Neil dug around in his closet and pulled out the suggested items, holding them up to inspect them with a critical eye. “That works.”

“Of course it works,” Emma said smugly, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve got good style, Neil. You just need to stop overthinking it.”

“I’m not overthinking,” Neil said defensively.

“Uh-huh. Sure you’re not,” Emma teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look, just relax. You’ll kill it.”

“Thanks, Emma,” Neil said, rolling his eyes even though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Anytime,” she replied brightly, the playful note in her voice not fading. “Text me pictures! I need proof that you actually followed my advice. Oh, and tell me if this look grabs you the man of your dreams or not.”

Neil sighed and hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before tossing it onto his bed. His mind wandered back to Andrew. Did he like him?

He groaned, rubbing his temples. “What the hell am I doing?”

Neil slipped into the outfit. The wide jeans were comfortable, and the tank top hugged his frame just right. When he threw on the leather jacket and some chains and checked himself in the mirror, he had to admit—Emma was good.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Neil squared his shoulders and headed for the door. Tonight, he decided, was just another step forward.

Neil checked the clock again. 6:57 PM. Time to head over to the Monsters’ dorm and wait for them. He grabbed his phone and keys, smoothing his jacket one last time as he stepped toward the door.

Just as his hand touched the handle, the door swung open. Matt and Seth walked in, still a little winded from their workout.

“Whoa,” Seth said, giving Neil an exaggerated once-over. “Where’s the fire, Josten? Or is this your audition for a biker gang?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “I’m going to Columbia with Andrews group tonight.”

Matt raised an eyebrow as he set down his gym bag. “You’re going with them again? After last time?”

Neil nodded, unfazed. “Everything’s fine. Andrew’s not going to let anything happen.”

“The Mosnster” Seth scoffed, leaning against the wall. “Sure, he’s reliable when he wants to be, but what about the rest of them? You’re the one who always says this team has enough problems without dragging Riko or his goons into the mix.”

“This isn’t about Riko,” Neil said, folding his arms. “And you need to stop judging them without a reason or calling Andrew a monster.”

Matt and Seth exchanged doubtful looks but didn’t press further.

“Just... be careful, yeah?” Matt said finally, clapping Neil on the shoulder.

Neil nodded. “Always.”

Satisfied, Matt and Seth moved toward their side of the dorm, and Neil stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

He froze.

Andrew was leaning casually against the wall opposite the door, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His sharp eyes flicked over Neil, starting at his boots and working their way up to the black leather jacket. Andrew’s gaze lingered just a fraction longer on Neil’s face before he took another slow drag of his cigarette.

“You’re late,” Andrew said flatly, exhaling smoke as he flicked ash onto the floor.

Neil blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up. “I was coming to your dorm.”

Andrew straightened, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. “And now you’re not.”

Neil frowned, unsure what to make of Andrew’s tone—or the subtle glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Andrew ignored the question, turning on his heel with an air of finality. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for Neil’s response, Andrew strode down the hall. Neil stared after him for a moment before following, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet dormitory.

Neil followed Andrew to the parking lot, where the rest of the Monsters were already waiting by Andrew’s car. Kevin leaned against the back door, earbuds in, scrolling through something on his phone. Nicky paced in a small circle, excitement bubbling as soon as he spotted Neil approaching. Aaron, standing beside the driver’s side door, scowled the moment Neil came into view.

“Neil!” Nicky practically shouted, his grin widening. “You’re coming with us? This is going to be so much fun!”

Aaron scoffed loudly. “Fun? Right. Just what we need—a repeat of last time.”

Neil raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Aaron’s bitterness wasn’t surprising, considering how Aaron had handled his “revenge” a few weeks ago.

“Aaron,” Nicky said, rolling his eyes, “can you try not being a killjoy for, like, five minutes?”

“Killjoy?” Aaron snapped, glaring at Neil. “Forgive me for not being thrilled that he’s coming along again.”

Andrew opened the driver’s side door, completely ignoring the tension. “Shut up, Aaron.”

Aaron’s glare shifted to Andrew. “You’re seriously okay with this?”

Andrew didn’t bother looking at his brother. “You don’t have to be. Get in the car.”

Kevin finally glanced up from his phone, his expression neutral as he assessed the group. He said nothing, simply climbed into the backseat as though Neil’s presence didn’t warrant acknowledgment.

Nicky clapped Neil on the shoulder. “Don’t mind Aaron. He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t have your resilience.”

Aaron muttered something under his breath but got into the car without further protest.

Andrew looked at Neil, jingling the car keys. “Passenger seat. Now.”

Neil blinked but moved toward the front of the car without argument. He slid into the passenger seat, and Andrew started the engine without a word. The others settled in as the car rumbled to life.

“Seatbelt,” Andrew said, side-eyeing Neil briefly before shifting into reverse.

Neil obeyed, pulling the strap across his chest. As Andrew backed out of the parking spot, Nicky leaned forward between the seats, grinning.

“Let’s try not to end up on the evening news this time, yeah?”

Andrew didn’t dignify that with a response, but Neil caught the faintest twitch of his lips.

The car ride to Columbia had been uneventful, much to Neil’s relief. Andrew drove with a quiet intensity, the hum of the engine filling the silence between them. Nicky had tried to fill the space with his usual chatter, but Andrew’s sharp glare had quickly shut him down. By the time they pulled up to the club, Neil was almost relaxed—almost.

Inside, the club was alive with pulsing music and flashing lights. The crowd moved in rhythmic waves, the energy electric and infectious. Neil followed Andrew through the throng, their shoulders brushing as they navigated toward the bar. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and the faint tang of smoke.

When they reached the bar, Roland’s familiar face lit up at the sight of Neil.

“Well, well,” Roland said, leaning on the counter with a grin. “Look who’s back. Didn’t think I’d see you again after last time.”

Neil shrugged, his lips quirking in a faint smile. “Didn’t think I’d come back either.”

Roland’s gaze shifted to Andrew, who stood beside Neil with his usual impenetrable expression. “And you brought your terrifying shadow. Always a pleasure, Minyard.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

Roland turned back to Neil, his grin widening. “So, what’ll it be?”

Neil smirked, leaning against the bar. “Surprise me. Just without the drugs this time.”

Roland laughed, the sound loud and genuine. “Fair enough. You’ve got guts, kid. I like that.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dipping conspiratorially. “And you clean up nice. Is this your usual look, or am I just lucky tonight?”

Neil leaned a bit closer and put his hands on the bar “Where is the joy in telling you?”

Beside him, Andrew shifted, the movement subtle but charged. His hand tapped against the bar with just enough force to make a firm sound.

Roland’s grin widened, either oblivious to Andrew’s mood or choosing to ignore it. “And you?” he asked, finally addressing Andrew. “Same as usual?”

Andrew gave a curt nod, his gaze locked on Roland with an intensity that could melt steel.

Roland straightened, giving an exaggerated salute. “Coming right up.”

He turned to prepare their drinks, but not before giving Neil a final, lingering look.

As Roland worked, Neil glanced at Andrew, whose expression was as unreadable as ever. Still, there was something about the way his jaw was set, the way his fingers drummed faintly on the bar, that felt… different.

When Roland returned, he placed a clear glass with an amber liquid in front of Andrew and a taller glass filled with a vibrant red concoction garnished with a sprig of mint in front of Neil.

“There you go,” Roland said, smirking at Neil. “No drugs. Just a little creativity.”

Neil eyed the drink suspiciously before taking a cautious sip. The blend of flavors—sweet, tangy, and slightly bitter—caught him off guard.

“It’s good,” Neil admitted, and Roland gave a mock bow.

“Anything for you.” Roland said, his tone flirtatious.

Andrew took his drink without a word, sipping it as he glared at Roland. The bartender finally moved on to another customer, but not without a final wink in Neil’s direction.

Neil let out a small laugh and winked back. Andrew’s gaze flicked to him, but didn’t say anything.

Neil followed Andrew back to the table, holding his vibrant red drink carefully as the thumping bass of the music seemed to pulse through his veins. Andrew set his glass down without a word, his expression unreadable as always. The rest of the Monsters were still scattered across the club: Aaron and Nicky bickering about something, and Kevin already half-slouched in his seat, staring at his drink like it held the secrets to life.

Neil sipped his drink, the sweetness of it oddly comforting amid the chaos.

“Where’s Aaron?” Neil asked.

“Right there,” Nicky said, gesturing toward the dance floor where Aaron had already disappeared into the crowd. “He couldn’t resist the music. I think he likes this song, but, honestly, who knows with him.”

Nicky turned back to the table, his attention settling on Neil. “Speaking of dancing, want to join me?”

Neil shook his head immediately. “I’ll pass.”

Nicky groaned dramatically. “Come on, you’re no fun!”

“No fun is better than bad dancing,” Neil retorted.

“Rude” Nicky said, sticking his tongue out before heading off to join Aaron.

The table settled into a tense silence after that. Kevin was steadily draining what was probably his fourth drink, and Andrew remained quiet, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd like he was watching for trouble—or deciding whether to cause it.

It was only a few minutes later when an unfamiliar man approached their table. Tall and well-dressed with confident stride and slight smirk on his lips. The man stopped in front of him, his eyes flicking over Neil with a boldness that bordered on arrogant.

“Care to dance?” the man asked, his voice smooth.

Neil hesitated for a split second, then shrugged. He wasn’t one to dance with strangers, but the guy was attractive, and he couldn’t deny he needed some air away from the table. Besides he was in a flirty mood tonight “Lead the way.”

Andrew didn’t say a word, but Neil felt his gaze, sharp and heavy, as he left the table.

The stranger led him onto the dance floor, where the music thudded louder and the lights flashed in dizzying patterns. The guy was a decent dancer, confident but not pushy, and Neil found himself easing into the rhythm.

Then he saw it—a tattoo on the man’s wrist as his sleeve shifted with the motion. A distinct, circular crest that Neil recognized instantly.

The Moriyama crest.

Neil’s stomach dropped, but he forced himself to keep his movements steady, to keep dancing like nothing had changed. Sliding his hand subtly to his side, he palmed the knife he always kept concealed. In a fluid, practiced motion, he pressed the blade lightly but unmistakably against the man’s groin.

The guy froze, his confident smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he caught himself.

“What’s a Moriyama dog doing here?” Neil asked, his tone low but razor-sharp.

The man’s expression tightened, though he tried to maintain his composure. “I have a message,” he said carefully.

Neil tilted his head, his eyes cold. “From who?”

“The Young Master,” the man replied, referring to Ichiro Moriyama.

Neil barked out a short, humorless laugh. “Did the Young Master forget how phones work?”

The man’s jaw clenched, offended by Neil’s blatant disrespect. “Watch your tongue,” he snapped. “Someone like you should be grateful to be summon by the Young Master.”

“Someone like me?” Neil repeated, his tone mocking. “Tell Ichiro that if he wants to talk, he can call. And next time he sends a lackey, make sure they don’t have identifying tattoos. Sloppy work.”

The man’s face twisted in anger, but Neil’s knife pressed a little harder, a silent warning.

“Scram, unless you want to see how I can cut off your dick with one motion.” Neil said coldly.

The man stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Without another word, he disappeared into the crowd.

Neil stood there for a moment, breathing deeply as he tucked the knife back into its place. His pulse was racing, but not from the dancing. This wasn’t good. Ichiro sending someone to talk to him meant trouble was closer than he’d hoped.

He glanced toward the table, his eyes meeting Andrew’s across the room. Andrew’s gaze was piercing, like he’d known something was wrong even from a distance.

Neil straightened his shoulders and made his way back through the crowd, bracing himself for the conversation that was sure to follow.

Neil made his way back to the table, the noise of the club pounding in his ears as his heart raced from the brief exchange with the man. When he sat down, Andrew’s gaze immediately met his. Andrew’s voice was low, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “What was that about?”

Neil didn’t look at him right away. He glanced around the table, his eyes briefly flicking to Kevin, who was still half-drunk and slouched in his seat, before he spoke. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” Neil said, his voice quiet but firm.

Andrew’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press further. Neil stood up again, excusing himself with a slight gesture before walking away from the table. The cold air of the night hit him as soon as he stepped outside. He walked briskly to the side of the building, away from the thumping bass of the club, and lit a cigarette. The glow of the lighter briefly illuminated his face before he inhaled deeply, the smoke swirling in the night air.

He took out his phone and dialed Stuart’s number. The familiar tone rang in his ear before his uncle picked up.

“Neil?” Stuart’s voice came through, deep and gravelly as always. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said, exhaling smoke. “But I had a run-in with someone tonight. A guy with a Moriyama tattoo. He said Ichiro wants to talk to me.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Stuart’s voice returned, calm but still laced with concern. “Ichiro, huh? I don’t know why he’d want to talk to you. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Neil’s grip tightened on his phone, frustration creeping into his tone. “Don’t bother. I’ll deal with it. I’ll call Ichiro myself. If it’s anything serious, I’ll let you know.”

Stuart was silent for a moment before he sighed, as though he knew it was pointless to argue with Neil when he made up his mind. “Alright, kid. Just… be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I never do,” Neil replied dryly, but there was a flicker of appreciation in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stuart muttered. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Neil said before hanging up.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs as he gathered his thoughts. This was getting complicated, but he’d handle it—just like everything else.

He flicked the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his shoe before he walked back into the club.

The moment he entered, he spotted Andrew and Kevin at the table. Kevin was still nursing his drink, looking vaguely amused by the noise around him, but Andrew’s sharp gaze flicked to Neil immediately.

Neil sat down beside Andrew, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. He glanced at Kevin, who was too far gone to pay attention to anything serious. He turned to Andrew and said in German:

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Neil started, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The guy who approached me? He works for Ichiro Moriyama. He is the heir of Kengo Moriyama and the future boss.”

Andrew’s eyebrows lifted, but his face remained neutral, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes.

“So you speak German. Aren’t you still full of surprises?’” Andrew said in German, a hint of an edge in his voice.

Neil shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “You haven’t ask me if I know it so its not my fault you didn’t know.”

Andrew stared at him for a long moment before grunting softly in acknowledgment, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. But then, in a rare moment of understanding, he said, “What did he want from you?”

Neil answer “He said that Ichiro wants to talk with me. I don’t know why.”

A beat of silence hung between them, but neither of them said anything more. Neil felt a tension in the air that wasn’t just from the conversation. He could tell Andrew wasn’t comfortable with the whole situation, and while it wasn’t something Neil would usually discuss, something about this felt different.

He glanced over at Kevin, who seemed oblivious, still sipping his drink like nothing was wrong. Nicky and Aaron were on the dance floor, and the club’s lights flickered and pulsed in time with the music.

Andrew’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, the only sign of the restless energy that buzzed under his calm exterior. He finally broke the silence, his voice flat. “I don’t like not knowing what’s going on, Neil.”

Neil looked at him, his eyes cool. “You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

Andrew didn’t respond right away, but there was something in his gaze that suggested he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He shifted slightly in his seat, his expression unreadable. “Don’t get in over your head.”

“I won’t,” Neil said in English this time, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Now, can we go back to enjoying the night?”

Andrew didn’t answer immediately, but his gaze lingered on Neil for a moment longer than usual before he nodded curtly. “Fine.”

With that, the tension seemed to ease, if only slightly. Kevin, oblivious to the entire conversation, slurred something incomprehensible as he took another drink. Neil just shook his head, his thoughts still on Ichiro’s lackey.

But for now, he’d focus on the night. No sense in worrying about what he couldn’t control.

The car ride from the club to the cousins’ house in Columbia was relatively uneventful. The atmosphere in the vehicle had shifted slightly, with Andrew’s occasional glances toward Neil not going unnoticed. But Neil was too lost in his own thoughts to acknowledge them. By the time they arrived, the night air was cool, and the faint buzz of adrenaline from the club still lingered in Neil’s veins.

As they walked through the door, the house felt quieter than before. Kevin, still half-drunk, didn’t hesitate to collapse onto the nearest sofa, his body going limp almost immediately as he passed out. Aaron, always more focused, gave Neil and the rest a curt nod before heading straight to his room, not bothering to check in with anyone.

The house settled into a comfortable silence.

Nicky, always the one to try and keep the mood light, turned to Neil with a grin. "Hey, you can crash in my room if you want. I don't mind," he offered, his eyes practically sparkling with the same energy that had kept him dancing earlier

Neil shook his head with a small chuckle. "Thanks, but I think I'll take the armchair tonight." He gestured to the couch in the corner, large enough for one person to sleep on, but not quite as comfortable as Nicky's bed.

Nicky shrugged without a second thought, unfazed by the rejection. "Suit yourself." With that, he made his way to his room, his steps light and carefree.

Neil, now alone in the living room with Andrew and the sound of Kevin’s snoring, glanced over at the sleeping figure sprawled out on the sofa. He didn’t particularly mind the company, but the couch was a bit cramped for a decent rest.

He stood, stretching out the tension in his muscles from the long night.

"Hey, Andrew," Neil called, turning his attention to the other man, who was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. "Can I borrow a towel and some clothes?"

Andrew’s eyes flicked over to Neil, almost as if he was considering whether to make a comment or not, but he simply nodded. "Yeah. The bathroom’s down the hall."

Neil nodded in thanks before heading toward the bathroom. He briefly looked at Andrew, noticing the quiet, almost unreadable expression on his face, but didn't linger on it.

After he grabbed the towel and a spare set of clothes, Neil went into the bathroom. The hot water was a welcome relief to his body, and as the steam filled the room, he let himself relax under the spray. It had been a long night, full of strange tension and unexpected encounters. He had hoped for a bit more downtime, but it seemed that things weren’t going to let up anytime soon.

After his shower, Neil dressed in the clothes Andrew had lent him. The black t-shirt fit comfortably, and the loose sweatpants were more than a welcome change from his usual attire. He ran his hand through his damp hair, glancing around the living room as he adjusted the towel around his waist.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he found Andrew sitting on the armchair, looking down at his phone. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his face, but when he noticed Neil in the doorway, he looked up, his gaze briefly scanning Neil’s figure before he returned his focus to the phone.

“Thanks for the clothes,” Neil said quietly, his voice slightly awkward in the stillness of the room.

Andrew paused, his thumb hovering over his phone screen for a moment. Then he slowly lowered the device and made eye contact with Neil, his lips forming a stiff line. “Yeah… no problem.”

Neil felt restless, his mind spinning with too many questions he hadn’t yet asked, things he was starting to feel unsure about. The strange glances from Andrew during the night, the way the air had thickened between them when they were out, and especially how quiet Andrew had been since they got back to the house—all of it was unsettling, leaving Neil uneasy.

“Hey,” Neil started, glancing over at the window where the night air seemed inviting. “You want to go outside for a smoke?”

Andrew looked at him for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable, but after a beat, he stood up. “Sure.”

The two of them stepped outside, the cool air of the evening hitting Neil’s skin as he lit his cigarette. They leaned against the wall of the house, the silence hanging between them, broken only by the occasional exhale of smoke and the distant hum of the street outside.

Neil’s curiosity was growing, the tension between them thickening. “So, what’s with the looks tonight?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. “You keep staring at me like you’re trying to figure something out.”

Andrew didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the cigarette between Neil’s fingers. The silence stretched, pulling taut in the air. Neil waited, his patience fraying, uncomfortable under the weight of Andrew’s silence.

Finally, Andrew cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied flatly, though the edge in his voice suggested that wasn’t the whole truth.

Neil raised an eyebrow, taking another drag from his cigarette as the smoke curled around his fingers. “Come on, Andrew. You may fool others, but you can’t fool me. What’s going on?”

Andrew’s expression hardened, but his eyes were elsewhere, distant. For a moment, he seemed to wrestle with something, before shaking his head, almost imperceptibly. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

Neil wasn’t satisfied. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Andrew’s face. “No, it’s clearly something. If its personal, just say it.”

Andrew stiffened, his whole posture tense, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to crack, to say something more, but instead, he sighed and flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with a sharp motion.

Neil stayed silent, watching him, still trying to figure out what was going on. He took another drag, the smoke hazy in the night air, his eyes locked on Andrew. But Andrew remained still, his shoulders rigid, as though he was lost in thought.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, Andrew spoke again, his voice quieter this time, almost reluctant. “From the moment I saw you... I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t know how I feel about this.”

Neil froze, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding like it was trying to break free from his chest. He blinked, his mind scrambling to process what had just been said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Andrew didn’t respond immediately. His eyes flickered down to the ground, like he was searching for something, anything to avoid looking at Neil. Neil opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. His mind was too scrambled, too overwhelmed to form any coherent thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear more or if he should just run.

Before Neil could say anything else, Andrew took a step back. The moment felt like it was slipping away, and Neil’s heart sank as he watched him. “Forget it,” Andrew muttered, his voice low and tense, clearly trying to brush it all off. “It doesn’t matter.”

Without another word, Andrew turned, walking away toward the house, leaving Neil standing there, staring at the ground, still holding the cigarette, his chest tight.

Neil stayed rooted to the spot for a few seconds longer, his mind whirling as he let the smoke linger in his lungs, trying to process what had just happened. The weight of Andrew’s words hung heavy in the air, unanswered, and Neil couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—something neither of them was ready to confront.

The next morning, Neil woke up earlier than usual. Andrew’s words from last night still clung to him, pressing down on his chest like a weight that wouldn’t lift. He couldn’t shake the memory. It lingered in his mind, each repetition louder and more suffocating than the last, threatening to overwhelm him.

The house was unnervingly quiet. There was no usual noise from Kevin, who was still passed out on the couch, no banter from Nicky and Aaron, nowhere to be heard. Neil’s footsteps were the only sound in the house as he moved through the hallways, the emptiness hanging heavily around him. Each step felt like it was leading him into something inevitable.

When he entered the kitchen, Andrew was already there, sitting at the table, his posture rigid, his gaze focused on the steam rising from his cup of coffee. The moment Neil stepped in, Andrew didn’t even acknowledge him, lost in his own world. For a split second, Neil considered turning around and walking out, avoiding the conversation altogether. But he knew it wasn’t possible. Not now. Not after last night.

He took a deep breath, his voice quieter than usual but steady. “Morning.”

Andrew’s eyes flicked up, catching Neil’s for a fleeting moment before he returned his gaze to the cup. “Morning,” he replied, the word clipped, a thin layer of tension hanging in the air between them.

Neil couldn’t take the silence any longer. The weight of it was unbearable, thick and oppressive. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. It felt like everything that had happened was trying to pull them apart rather than bring them together.

“What do you mean when you said you can’t stop thinking about me?” Neil finally asked, his voice forced to stay level even as a knot twisted in his stomach. The question had been eating at him all night, and now it had to come out.

Andrew let out a sharp exhale, setting his cup down with deliberate slowness. His eyes met Neil’s, but there was no softness in them—only a raw, unspoken tension that thickened the air.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Andrew muttered, his tone tight, the frustration clear. “I didn’t plan on saying that last night. It just… came out.”

Neil’s breath hitched slightly at the admission, but he couldn’t let it go. The words had been hanging in the air between them too long. “Does that mean you like me or something? Or maybe I am being a complete moron right now.” His voice was quiet but firm, demanding something real from the situation, from Andrew.

Andrew’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowing. “I hate you,” he spat out, his voice sharp, but Neil could tell—he didn’t mean it like that. Before Neil could respond, Andrew added, almost as if he couldn’t stop the words, “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”

Neil’s heart pounded in his chest, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to hold his composure, but everything inside him was beginning to unravel. His emotions surged, fighting to break through the walls he had spent so long building.

“So it’s true...” Neil breathed, almost more to himself than to Andrew.

Andrew sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “I wasn’t trying to make things complicated, Neil. I didn’t expect it either. But you should know… this—this— isn’t easy for me.”

Neil’s chest tightened as he heard the rawness in Andrew’s voice. It wasn’t the cool, controlled Andrew he was used to. This was something else. This was vulnerability. The kind that Neil didn’t know how to handle.

“I never asked for this to be easy,” Neil replied, his voice cracking just slightly. “But you can’t just drop a bombshell like that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered to Neil’s, and for a second, Neil thought he saw something there—a faint tremor in his gaze, almost like fear. But it vanished too quickly for Neil to be sure. Andrew leaned forward, his voice dropping lower, quieter. “What do you want from me?”

The question hit Neil like a ton of bricks. What did he want? His heart hammered in his chest as the answer clawed at him, pushing its way up from deep inside. It was there, raw and undeniable.

Neil swallowed hard, his hands tightening into fists at his sides as he tried to steady himself. This wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. He wasn’t supposed to feel so exposed. So vulnerable

“I… I don’t know, Andrew,” Neil said, his voice softer now, but somehow stronger, more certain. “But I think… I think I like you too.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than anything else he had ever said. For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Time seemed to stretch, the world outside the kitchen fading away as they both grappled with what had just been said.

Andrew froze, his body stiffening. For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing—just the silence, thick and oppressive, wrapping them both in its grip.

“Neil…” Andrew whispered, his voice rough, almost like he was struggling to say what he needed to. But whatever it was, he couldn’t get the words out.

Before Andrew could say anything more, Neil stepped back, breaking the stillness that had stretched too long, feeling suffocated by the weight of it all. He needed space. He needed to breathe.

“I—I should go,” Neil murmured, his voice trembling, betraying the emotions he was still struggling to contain. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the door.

He needed to get out. He needed air. He needed a moment to think. To process everything that had just happened. His mind was a whirlpool, spinning with everything he couldn’t quite understand.

But as his hand was on the doorknob, Andrew’s voice cut through the stillness. “Wait.”

Neil hesitated but didn’t turn around. His chest ached from the weight of the words left unsaid.

“I’m not sure what this means either,” Andrew said, his voice so quiet, so uncertain, that it made Neil’s heart hurt. “But if you are not sure about your feelings just tell me. I won’t force you to do anything.”

The words pierced through Neil’s defenses, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked out of the room, leaving everything—everything—hanging in the air between them.

The ride back to Palmetto was tense, but not in the way Neil had expected. With the others in the backseat of Andrew’s car—Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron—there was no room for quiet conversations or confessions. The cramped space between Neil and Andrew only added to the discomfort.

Kevin was asleep, his head resting against the window, while Nicky and Aaron chatted quietly in the back, their voices a low hum that only highlighted how much Neil and Andrew weren’t talking.

Neil tried to focus on the view outside the window, but his mind kept drifting back to the events of the night. The confession Andrew had made, the way his heart had raced, the way Andrew’s words had hung in the air between them.

Neil wanted to talk about it. Wanted to clear the air, maybe talk about what it meant. But with the others in the car, it wasn’t the right time. It couldn’t be. It was complicated, too personal, and everything that happened last night felt like it was locked away, a secret neither of them could yet share.

Andrew was focused on the road, his jaw tight, his grip on the wheel firm. He didn’t say a word, not even acknowledging Neil sitting beside him. Neil glanced over at him once or twice, trying to gauge his expression, but it was hard to read. Andrew’s face was as stoic as ever, his eyes fixed on the road, the weight of what had happened between them hanging heavy but unsaid.

The drive back to Palmetto felt long, drawn out, but when they finally reached the dorms, Neil was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice the awkwardness between him and Andrew. The others were too busy discussing plans for the rest of the weekend, joking about what they’d do once they were back in their familiar environment.

As they parked the car and piled out, Neil couldn’t help but steal a glance at Andrew. Andrew, who had finally broken the silence of their ride by telling him, “We’ll talk later,” but there was no assurance in his tone. No promise of clarity. Just a statement. It was the same thing Neil had expected, but it didn’t make it easier.

Neil climbed the stairs to the rooftop of Fox Tower, his steps steady despite the slight tightness in his chest. Andrew had texted him earlier, a simple and direct message: “Rooftop. 8 PM.” No explanation, no context. But Neil had learned by now that Andrew didn’t operate by conventional rules.

The evening air was cool but not cold, carrying the faint scent of rain from the storm that had passed earlier in the day. When Neil pushed open the heavy door to the rooftop, he saw Andrew sitting by the edge, one knee drawn up, his ever-present cigarette perched between his fingers. He didn’t look up as Neil approached, but Neil knew he’d been noticed.

Neil sat down beside him, leaving enough space so Andrew wouldn’t feel crowded. The city lights stretched out before them, a glittering expanse that seemed to pulse with life. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Andrew broke the silence first. “When I met you,” he said, his voice low and even, “I thought you were a side effect of the meds. Some hallucination my brain cooked up.”

Neil blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Andrew exhaled a stream of smoke, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “You didn’t make sense. You still don’t. But after Stuart got me off the pills, you were still there.”

Neil’s heart skipped, but he kept his voice steady. “I’m not a hallucination.”

Andrew tilted his head toward him, his expression unreadable. “You’re a pipe dream.”

The words hit Neil harder than he expected, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. The rawness in Andrew’s voice was a side of him Neil rarely saw, and it left him feeling exposed in turn. Andrew didn’t look away, though, his gaze heavy and unrelenting.

Neil shifted, his hand brushing over his chest where the scar beneath his shirt lay. “You’re not the only one who thinks I’m not real,” he said softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not either.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away, waiting for Neil to continue.

“My father burned me,” Neil said, his voice steady despite the pain the memory carried. “A flatiron. Right here.” He tapped his chest. “I was still a little boy. The cops knew he was a killer, but they had no prove so to catch him in the act they would often come to our house to make a search. During the searches I had to act like everything was normal and I wasn’t scared to death by my father. One time, after the cops left, he took the flatiron from the maid’s hands and burned me. Apparently, I was too fidgety during the search, and I need a punishment” Neil laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “He was the Butcher of Baltimore. He worked for the Moriyamas. And when he wasn’t cutting people up for them, he was making me wish I was one of his victims.”

Andrew’s face didn’t change, but there was a shift in the air between them, a quiet understanding that Neil hadn’t realized he needed.

Andrew finally spoke bluntly, his voice devoid of inflection. “When I was little I wanted to have home and loving parents. I remember how I would pray every night to be adopted by one of my foster families, but no one ever chose me. I stopped praying after a while, but then I meet her and for the first time in years I had hope that thing will be different this time. And they were… for a while.”

The words hit Neil like a gut punch, but he didn’t react outwardly. He just nodded, letting Andrew know he’d heard him without pitying him. Andrew didn’t need pity. He needed Neil to listen.

They sat in silence for a long time, the weight of their shared truths hanging between them like a fragile thread.

Finally, Neil broke the stillness. “I’ve thought about what you said. About us. And I think…” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “I think I want to try. If you do. But I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

Andrew turned his head, studying him intently. His gaze was sharp, piercing, as if he were weighing every word Neil had just said.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked suddenly.

Neil frowned. “What?”

Andrew leaned closer, his voice a murmur. “To kiss you. Yes or no?”

Neil’s breath caught. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to meet Andrew’s gaze. “Yes.”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Neil’s with surprising gentleness. It was brief, more an acknowledgement than a declaration, but it carried a weight that made Neil’s chest tighten.

When Andrew pulled back, he didn’t say anything. Neither did Neil. They just sat there, side by side, the city stretching out before them, and for the first time in a long time, Neil felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Chapter Text

The Foxes filed into the court, their Wednesday morning practice just starting. Neil stretched near the edge of the court, his mind more focused on Andrew than on the drills they were about to start. The tension from Saturday’s rooftop conversation had faded, but Neil still felt a strange, undefined awkwardness around Andrew. He didn’t know what they were now—if they were anything. Andrew had kissed him, yes, but Andrew wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his feelings.

Neil glanced at Andrew, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his blank expression firmly in place. There was no hint of their shared moments from the rooftop, no indication that anything had changed. Andrew was as unreadable as ever.

Neil huffed and turned back to his warm-up.

“Alright, team, let’s move it!” Wymack barked as he strode onto the court. His clipboard clapped against his thigh as he surveyed them. “You’ve got a game next week, and you look like a pack of overgrown toddlers. Get to work!”

The Foxes groaned but obeyed, falling into their usual drills. Everything was going as usual until Wymack’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, scowling at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hold up,” Wymack called, halting their drills. He answered the call, his voice sharp. “Yeah? This is Coach Wymack. Who’s this?”

The line was loud enough that the Foxes could hear a faint but urgent voice on the other end. Wymack’s frown deepened as he listened.

“What? Why do you need to talk to him?” Wymack asked, his tone accusatory. His gaze flicked over to Andrew. “Minyard! Get over here. What the hell did you do? The cops want to talk to you.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he pushed off the wall. He sauntered over, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Ask my copy,” he said flatly, jerking his thumb toward Aaron.

Wymack growled and brought the phone back to his ear. “What’s the problem,… Officer Higgins?”

Before Higgins could respond, Andrew snatched the phone from Wymack’s hand.

“Pig Higgins, is that you?” Andrew’s tone was almost conversational. “Oh, it is. Yes, I’m surprised. Did you forget I don’t like surprises? What? No, don’t stall. You wouldn’t hunt me down after all this time just to chat, so what do you want?”

Andrew went quiet, listening intently. His expression didn’t shift much, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier.

“No,” Andrew said abruptly, and then he hung up.

The phone started ringing again immediately. The Foxes had completely stopped pretending to stretch, their attention glued to the unfolding scene. Wymack glared at Andrew but didn’t move to stop him.

Andrew let the phone ring a few times before answering again, this time with an exaggerated sigh.

“What…. Just shut up.”

He hung up again, but the phone buzzed a third time.

“Talk to me,” Andrew said sharply when he answered. Higgins’ voice carried on for what felt like an eternity. The more Higgins spoke, the more Andrew’s annoyance grew. A dark cloud settled over his face.

“Go back,” Andrew finally interrupted. “Who complained? Oh, Pig, don’t give me the runaround. I know where you work, you see. I know who you work with. That means there’s a child in her house. She isn’t supposed—what? No. Don’t ask me that. I said don’t. Leave me alone.

“Hey,” Andrew said, his voice rising in warning. “Call me again, and I’ll kill you.”

He hung up for the last time. The phone stayed silent.

The Foxes stared, stunned into silence. Wymack looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it. Andrew shoved the phone back into Wymack’s hand.

Wymack looked from Andrew to Aaron and back again. "Now what have you done?"

„What makes you think this is my fault?" asked him Andrew.

"I hope that's a rhetorical question," Wymack said "Why is the Oakland PD calling you?"

"The pig and I go way back," Andrew said. "He just wanted to catch up."

You lie to my face one more time and we're going to have a problem."

"It was mostly the truth. He worked with the Oakland PAL program. Thought he could save at-risk kids by teaching them sports after school. Kind of like you, yes? Idealistic to the core."

"You left Oakland three years ago."

"Yes, yes, I'm so flattered he remembers me, or something." Andrew waved one hand in a lazy 'what can you do' gesture and started for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Wymack put an arm into his path. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving." Andrew pointed past Wymack in the direction of the exit.

"We've got practice," Dan said. "We have a game on Friday."

Andrew ignored her, but impatience pulled Kevin’s mouth into a hard, unforgiving line. “Knock it off. You can’t leave.”

The tension in the air thickened like a storm cloud about to burst. For a brief moment, silence reigned as every eye in the room darted between Kevin and Andrew.

Then Andrew turned, his expression cold and unyielding. “I can’t, Kevin? I’ll show you what I can’t do. Try and put me on your court today, and I’ll take myself off it permanently. Fuck your practice, your line-up, and your stupid fucking game.”

“That’s enough,” Kevin snapped, stepping forward. “We don’t have time for your tantrums.”

The sharp crack of Andrew’s fist against the wall silenced Kevin’s retort. The impact echoed through the gym, leaving a smear of red behind as Andrew’s knuckles split open. Kevin instinctively moved closer, one hand outstretched like he could stop a second blow.

Wymack was faster. He grabbed Andrew’s arm and yanked him back from the wall with a firm grip. Andrew didn’t so much as glance at Wymack; his gaze was locked on Kevin, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

Only when Kevin stepped back, his posture guarded but wary, did Andrew make a half-hearted attempt to pull free from Wymack’s hold.

„I’m leaving now.” said Andrew.

“Coach, let him go,” Aaron said, his voice surprisingly quiet. “Please.”

Wymack hesitated, his gaze flicking between the two brothers. Aaron was staring at the ground, offering no further explanation, and Andrew’s unreadable expression gave nothing away. Finally, Wymack released his hold on Andrew’s arm with a heavy sigh.

“You and I are going to have a very long talk later, Andrew,” Wymack warned.

“Sure,” Andrew said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion. He turned and left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Seriously,” Nicky said into the stunned silence that followed, “what did I miss?”

“Answers. Now,” Wymack demanded, turning to Aaron.

“I don’t know,” Aaron said.

“My ass you don’t,” Wymack snapped.

Aaron’s head jerked up, his expression souring as he repeated himself, louder this time. “I don’t know! I don’t know why Higgins is calling. Call him back or take it up with Andrew if you want answers. He was Andrew’s mentor, not mine. I only met the guy once.”

“He obviously left an impression if you still remember him,” Wymack pointed out, his tone unrelenting.

“Oh,” Nicky said, his voice suddenly laced with startled realization. “Is he—?”

He didn’t finish, but Aaron knew exactly what he was asking.

“Yeah,” Aaron said flatly. “He’s the one who told me I had a brother.”

The weight of Aaron’s words settled over the team, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.

Neil’s stomach churned. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew enough to recognize the weight of it. Something serious was unfolding, and Andrew was right in the middle of it.

The Foxes returned to the dorms after practice, an uneasy quiet settling over them. The tension from the morning clung to the air like a persistent fog, making even the usual post-practice chatter feel stifled. No one dared mention Andrew's outburst, though the memory of it lingered in the back of Neil's mind.

Andrew leaned against the wall in the common area, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room like a predator surveying its territory. He was waiting, and it didn’t take long to see for whom.

Renee entered a few moments later, her calm energy a soothing counterpoint to the day's unease. Her duffel bag rested casually over one shoulder, and she stopped in front of Andrew without hesitation. They exchanged a few quiet words, too low for Neil to hear, but something about their easy interaction set his teeth on edge. Andrew, who usually bristled at anyone's presence, seemed at ease with Renee.

Neil’s stomach twisted unexpectedly, a sharp pang of something he couldn’t quite name—irritation, maybe. Why does she get that side of him so effortlessly? He told himself it didn’t matter, that he wasn’t allowed to care. But his grip on the water bottle in his hand tightened all the same.

Without so much as a glance at the rest of the team, Andrew and Renee headed for the door. Neil’s gaze lingered on their retreating forms, his curiosity vying with an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling clawing at his chest.

Where are they going? The thought repeated, insistent and demanding, but Neil pushed it aside. He knew better than to ask Andrew about things that didn’t concern him—especially now.

Shaking off the lingering unease, Neil headed to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the stash, his movements brisk and determined. Whatever that was, he told himself, I don’t care.

By the time he reached the rooftop, bottle in hand, he had almost convinced himself it was true.

The cool breeze welcomed him as he stepped outside, the city stretching out before him in quiet defiance of his turbulent thoughts. Neil unscrewed the bottle cap and took a long sip, the alcohol burning a path down his throat. He sat on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling over the side, and pulled out his phone.

He hesitated for a moment before scrolling through his contacts and pressing Emma’s name.

“Neil!” Emma’s voice came through, bright and lively as always. “I feel honored to get a call from Mr. Busy. What is the occasion?”

Neil smiled faintly, taking another sip. “Maybe I miss you too much. Besides you are my best friend.”

“You sound... weird. What did you do? Spill.”

Neil huffed a small laugh. “I kissed someone.”

The line went silent for half a second before Emma’s excited screech nearly burst his eardrum.

“NEIL HARTFORD! Tell me everything. Now.”

Neil leaned back against the railing, staring up at the sky. “It’s... complicated.”

“It’s always complicated with you.” Emma teased. “Come on, details. And for the love of God please tell me its Andrew.”

Neil hesitated, the vodka warming his insides but doing little to calm his nerves. “It is.”

There was a pause and then a question “The whole thing is not just for the sex, right?”

“I don’t know how he sees it, but I do want to try and date him,” Neil said, exhaling heavily. “He... said he likes me. And I said it back. We had a long talk about it and i think we could work things out.”

Emma was quiet for a moment before her tone softened. “Neil, that’s huge. How do you feel about it?”

Neil stared out at the city lights, the weight of Andrew’s confession and their kiss settling heavily in his chest. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I feel... restless. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Neil.” Emma’s voice was firm but kind. “You deserve to be happy. From what I hear Andrew makes you happy so go for it. Beside you will make one hell of a couple. You are both beautiful, and badass, and you complete each other perfectly. As much as I hate what he did to you in Columbia I can see you two working out. Oh and I like Andrew more than Henry.”

Neils smile was a little stained when he heard his name. “You like everyone more than Henry.” And then quietly he said. “Thanks, I need to hear that.”

“You better not keep me waiting for updates,” Emma said, her tone lightening. “And by the way. Who incited the kiss?”

Neil laughed softly. “He did actually.”

They talked for a little while longer before Neil finally hung up, tucking his phone away. He took another sip of vodka, the alcohol dulling the edges of his thoughts, and sat in the silence of the rooftop, trying to forget he even heard Henrys name again after so much time. 

He decides to head inside. When he got closer he head Nicky telling more about the twins story. Neil stood quietly in the hallway, listening to Nicky recount the story. It was one of those moments where the reality of his teammates’ lives hit him like a wave. The way Nicky told it—casually, without the usual levity—made the story feel all the more real. The distance between Aaron and Andrew was something that couldn't be easily overcome, and the fact that they had only truly known each other for few years was jarring to Neil.

As Nicky finished the story, Neil leaned against the doorframe, quietly processing the weight of the words. This wasn’t just about two estranged brothers meeting later in life—it was about lives marked by chaos and trauma. It reminded him of his own struggles, though in a completely different way. Andrew and Aaron’s story was full of pain, isolation, and confusion, but Neil could understand it on some level.

He noticed Kevin sitting by the couch, looking a bit distant. Neil knew Kevin had a lot buried beneath the surface. He wondered if Kevin was also thinking about the story, or if he was just pretending it didn’t affect him.

Matt seemed to sense Neil and glanced up from his phone. "You good, man?" he asked quietly.

Neil blinked, pulled out of his own head. He gave Matt a tight smile. "Yeah."

Matt nodded, not pressing further.

The complexity of Andrew and Aaron's relationship was just one of many things he had to navigate—one of many layers that made this team and this life so different from anything he had known. But in a way, it made them all human in his eyes.

Still, as Nicky went on to talk about the drama with Higgins and how Andrew would handle it, Neil felt an odd mixture of curiosity and concern. He couldn’t help but feel something stir inside him—something that told him he wasn’t going to stay out of it, even if he wanted to. The line between getting involved and being left in the dark was a thin one, and Neil wasn’t sure where he stood.

When Nicky finished, Neil felt the room grow quieter, the weight of the story settling into the group. For a brief moment, Neil thought about excusing himself—maybe heading back up to the rooftop to think things through. But then again, there was no escaping the tension that lingered between him and Andrew.

The Foxes were sitting around the living room, quietly eating the food they’d ordered, their earlier conversations forgotten as they dug into the greasy comfort food. It was a rare moment of calm, the team settled into a routine that, for once, felt like everything might be okay. The tension from earlier in the day was slowly starting to fade, replaced by the familiar chatter that normally came with downtime. But there was still an edge to the atmosphere—a heaviness that none of them could shake off completely.

They’d barely finished eating when the front door opened, and Andrew and Renee walked in. The difference in their energy from the rest of the group was immediately apparent. While everyone else had been hanging out casually, Andrew and Renee seemed more tense, more guarded. Renee was limping, her face was bruised and a little swollen around the cheekbone, and she had a fresh scrape on her lip. Andrew, as always, was the picture of indifference, though his own bruises were visible along his jawline, and his knuckles had a fresh cut from his earlier outburst.

Without a word, Andrew went straight to his room, slamming the door behind him with a sense of finality. The rest of the Foxes stayed frozen for a moment, all eyes on Renee, who limped into the living room and collapsed onto the couch with a tired sigh.

"Jesus," Matt muttered under his breath, eyeing Renee’s bruised face with concern. "What happened to you?"

Dan immediately stood up, crossing the room with a determined stride. "What the hell, Renee? Why would you let Andrew beat you up like that?"

Renee barely even flinched at Dan’s harsh tone. She just settled deeper into the couch, letting out a deep breath. "It’s fine, Dan. It was my fault for underestimating him today."

Neil’s curiosity was piqued, though. He hadn’t seen much of Renee in action, but something about the way she carried herself always told him that she wasn’t just a cheerleader on the sidelines. He glanced between Renee and the door Andrew had disappeared through, wondering what exactly went down between the two of them.

Unable to hold back, Neil leaned in a little. "Renee," he asked cautiously, "how do you know how to fight like that? You and Andrew… are you two trained or something?"

Renee hesitated for a second, as if deciding whether to tell Neil more, but then she looked him in the eye and shrugged. "I am born again," she said with a soft chuckle, though there was no humor behind it. "Not in the religious sense, obviously. But I grew up with some of the roughest people around. That’s how I learned. I had no choice but to learn how to defend myself."

Neil was taken aback by the bluntness of her response, and the quiet weight behind it. It wasn’t something he’d expected to hear, but it made sense, in a way. Renee didn’t just fit in with the Foxes because of her natural athleticism—she had the edge of someone who’d been through a lot, and knew exactly how to survive.

She continued, her voice quieter now, almost reflective. "I’ve had to fight for everything." She trailed off for a moment, her gaze momentarily flicking toward the closed door of Andrew’s room. "Me and Andrew are more alike than you think. We’ve both been pushed to our limits. And we both know what it feels like to be used."

Neil felt something twist in his gut as he processed her words. He’d always known Andrew had demons, things he kept buried deep inside, but hearing it from Renee—hearing how she could see the same darkness in herself—it made it all feel so much more real. They were more alike than he’d thought.

Dan, still standing across from the couch, frowned. "I don’t like it. He’s dangerous, Renee. You don’t have to keep pushing yourself like that with him. What happened today was too much."

Renee didn’t look up at Dan, though her voice was firm. "It’s fine, Dan. We’re both fine. We know what we’re doing."

"I still don’t like it," Dan repeated, though her voice softened. "You both deserve better than whatever this is." She sat back down, folding her arms over her chest, clearly not convinced.

The room fell into a quiet that felt heavier than before. Neil thought about the words Renee had said, about the sparring, and about how she and Andrew seemed to be connected in ways that no one else understood. He had his own past, things he kept buried under layers of silence and distance, but it wasn’t the same as Andrew’s—or Renee’s.

As the tension in the room lingered, Neil realized that the more he learned about his teammates, the less he could keep things to himself. There was a web of connections between them all, secrets that bound them together and drove them apart at the same time.

He opened his mouth, about to say something more, but stopped himself. Instead, he simply let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in his chair. Sometimes, there were just no words to say. He decided to just wait for Kevin to get him for their night practice.

Chapter Text

The Foxes' Friday game at Belmonte was intense. The stands were packed, the air thick with anticipation. The team was firing on all cylinders, their chemistry sharp and undeniable. As usual, Andrew was the focal point of the court, he was serious this game and guarded the goal with all his might. But it wasn’t just Andrew who shone that night. Neil, ever the unpredictable force, was all over the place, his quick reflexes and unpredictable plays throwing the Belmonte team off balance.

The game was hard-fought, with both teams giving their all. Belmonte was no pushover, but the Foxes had something they didn’t: a bond forged in trials, a unity in the face of adversity. Aaron was on fire, playing with a fierce determination, and Kevin, despite his usual arrogance, was contributing with his sharp passes and well-timed shots.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, the Foxes were victorious. The crowd erupted in cheers, but the Foxes knew better than to bask in the glory of their win. For them, it was just another game, another step toward their goal. But that didn’t stop them from celebrating the small victory.

After the game, the Foxes gathered in the locker room, tossing their gear aside and beginning to relax. But Neil was still processing the evening, his thoughts a swirl of adrenaline and lingering unease. He had spent a good portion of the game studying his teammates, the way they interacted on and off the court. Kevin was still ranting about how sloppy their game was , but his words weren’t as sharp as before.

The Foxes were in high spirits as they piled into the bus after their victory at Belmonte. The usual tension between them had all but disappeared in the wake of their win. It had been a hard-fought game, and they’d come out on top, but more than the points on the scoreboard, it was the camaraderie and unity that had made the difference.

Neil couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. The Foxes had won, yes, but there was something more in the air tonight. It was the feeling of belonging. The strange, unspoken understanding between them all, the trust that had grown over time. He’d felt it during the game—each of them picking up where the others left off, covering for mistakes, pushing forward when the pressure mounted.

Before he could second-guess himself, Neil spoke up, his voice a little louder than usual, cutting through the noise. "Hey," he said, drawing Andrew’s attention. "Do you mind sitting with me in the back?"

The words felt odd even as they left Neil’s mouth, and for a split second, he was almost certain Andrew would ignore him or make a sharp remark. But to Neil’s surprise, Andrew didn’t hesitate. Without so much as a look at the others, Andrew simply nodded and stood up, making his way down the aisle toward the back of the bus.

The rest of the Foxes fell silent, exchanging shocked glances as Andrew slid into the seat next to Neil. Matt’s jaw dropped, Nicky’s eyes widened, and Aaron—who usually kept his reactions neutral—looked genuinely stunned.

"Wait, what?" Nicky said, unable to contain his surprise. "Neil just asked Andrew to sit with him?"

"Did I miss something?" Matt added, shaking his head in disbelief. "Andrew doesn’t exactly—y’know—sit with people."

Kevin raised an eyebrow, clearly confused but too tired to say much. He simply leaned back in his seat, his hands behind his head, trying to ignore the undercurrent of awkwardness that suddenly filled the van.

Andrew, however, didn’t acknowledge the stares or the whispers. He just sat next to Neil, his posture still guarded but not as tense as usual. His eyes flicked to Neil for a moment, and then he leaned back against the window, as if to settle into the rare, uncomfortable silence between them.

Neil, feeling the weight of the attention from the others, glanced briefly at his teammates but didn’t say anything. The energy in the van had shifted now, everyone’s focus on the back seat. No one spoke about it directly, but the sudden change in the dynamics between Andrew and Neil was palpable.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. The only sounds in the van were the hum of the engine and the faint chatter of the others, who were trying their best to get back to their usual conversations while still processing the strange turn of events.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Neil turned to Andrew, his voice quieter this time, almost a whisper. "You’re okay with this, right?"

Andrew didn’t immediately respond. He just glanced at Neil, his expression unreadable, but after a pause, he nodded once.

"Yeah," Andrew said simply. "Why not?"

Neil could feel his heart rate increase a little, his nerves settling with the words. It wasn’t much, but it was a shift—a shift he hadn’t been expecting, but one that made everything feel a little less heavy.

The others, however, were still watching, their surprise not fading. Nicky leaned forward, trying to get a better look at them, and Matt whispered to Seth, clearly more interested than he should have been in the quiet exchange between the two.

But for once, Neil didn’t care. He’d asked Andrew to sit with him because it felt right—felt like something needed to change between them. What that change meant, Neil didn’t know yet. But he knew that, for the first time in a long time, things between him and Andrew didn’t feel quite so impossible.

And that, in itself, was a small victory.

After they arrived back at Palmetto, the usual tiredness from the game hung in the air, but there was also an unspoken energy, a sense of something different. Neil, glancing around at his teammates, felt a sudden urge to change the usual pattern. He knew that with everything that had been happening—Andrew, the tension, the bond they were starting to form—it was time to do something to bring the team even closer.

"How about a team dinner?" Neil suggested, his voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the Foxes unpacking their bags and stretching out after the long ride.

Everyone paused for a moment, exchanging curious glances.

"Are you serious?" Nicky asked, grinning. "Are we finally getting a dinner where no one has to cook or order crappy take-out?"

Neil smirked, but then added, "Yeah, and this one’s on me."

Wymack, who had been leaning against the door frame, straightened up with a skeptical look. "You? Buying dinner for the whole team? You sure about that?"

Neil raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "I am sure. And don’t worry it was Stuart’s idea. He’s paying."

At the mention of Stuart, Wymack’s expression softened slightly. "Stuart, huh?"

"Exactly," Neil said, feeling the weight of the conversation lifting a bit as the Foxes started to relax. "So, what does everyone want?"

The team started chiming in with their preferences—simple, but always the same orders: burgers, pizza, pasta. As usual, Nicky went off on his own tangent, suggesting a wide variety of food like they were ordering from a five-star menu.

Neil quickly jotted down the list and, with a quick glance at Abby and the other girls, said, "I’ll handle the orders. You guys set the table."

Abby gave him a quick nod. "We’ve got this."

Just as Neil was getting ready to place the order, Seth, who had been unusually quiet up until then, stood up and stretched. "Alright, but there’s one thing that’s gotta be part of the team bonding," he said with a mischievous grin. "No team bonding dinner is complete without some alcohol."

Matt, who had been gathering his things to help with the dinner, looked up at Seth in surprise. "Alcohol? I don’t think its good idea.”

"Come on," Seth insisted. "It’s just a little. Besides, Matt, you’re not going to back out on me now, right?"

Matt hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Fine. But just a little."

The two of them left to head to the nearest store, a slight edge of excitement in Seth's voice as he urged Matt to hurry up. "No one’s ever complained about a team bonding dinner with a little extra... touch," Seth added with a wink as they disappeared out the door.

Back in the kitchen, the girls were already setting the table, pushing together the various mismatched chairs. Neil had called in the order and, after a few more minutes of talking with the team, the kitchen filled with a buzz of excitement as they prepared for the evening. Wymack was in the living room, pacing and checking his phone, but he didn’t interfere with the organized chaos happening in the kitchen. Abby set out plates and utensils, Nicky happily pulled out the drinks from the fridge, and Kevin, as usual, stood slightly apart from the group but wasn’t saying much.

It wasn’t long before the door opened again, and Matt and Seth returned, Seth holding a bag that definitely wasn’t just filled with snacks. They both seemed to carry an energy that suggested the night was only just beginning.

Matt set the bag down on the counter with a sigh, while Seth, grinning from ear to ear, revealed bottles of alcohol—some beer, a few bottles of wine, and even a few pre-mixed cocktails. "This’ll do just fine," Seth said with a triumphant grin. "Enough to make tonight memorable."

"Don’t let Abby catch you drinking too much," Matt warned as he sat down.

Neil raised an eyebrow as Seth eagerly began setting the bottles on the counter, clearly ready to break open the first one. "I thought we were supposed to bond as a team, not get wasted."

"I’m bonding," Seth shot back, clearly more interested in the alcohol than anything else. "You can bond with food and feelings, I’ll bond with this," he said, winking at Matt.

As the food arrived, there was a chorus of excitement. Plates were piled high with pizza, pasta, and various other dishes that everyone had requested. Despite the mixed personalities and different moods in the room, there was a strange comfort in the shared meal. Conversations flowed more easily, with Nicky and Kevin mostly chatting, Aaron nodding along with the others, and Matt laughing at whatever Nicky was saying. Even Wymack, who often stayed reserved, was engaging in some conversation, albeit in his usual gruff manner.

For Neil, it felt... different. It wasn’t the usual tension-filled atmosphere of the team after a game. Everyone seemed a bit more relaxed, a little more open than they had been in the past.

As they dug into their food, Neil couldn't help but notice the subtle changes. Andrew, who had been distant earlier, was sitting a little closer to the group, his eyes scanning the room, but there was an odd sense of calm about him tonight. Neil thought about the events that had led up to this moment—everything had shifted so quickly—but it felt oddly natural.

By the time the last of the food was eaten and the alcohol had been poured (only a few sips for most of them, despite Seth’s persistence), the team had reached a new level of comfort with one another. It wasn’t just about the game anymore. It was about who they were together, outside of the court.

And for the first time in a long time, Neil allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, the Foxes were becoming more than just teammates. They were becoming something closer—a family of sorts.

When the dinner finally came to a close, the Foxes, more relaxed than usual, cleaned up together, laughter echoing through the dorm. And while Neil knew that their bond was far from perfect, he couldn’t help but feel like this dinner, this night, had been the start of something that would last much longer than the next game.

That night, Neil climbed the stairs to the rooftop, hoping for some quiet. The day had been long, full of laughter and bonding, but there was something about the stillness of the night that called to him. As he stepped onto the roof, he wasn’t surprised to see Andrew sitting at the edge, his back against the low wall, staring out over the city.

“Didn’t expect you to be up here,” Andrew said, his voice a little rough in the cool night air.

Neil sat down beside him, not saying anything at first. The silence between them felt easy, comfortable, but there was still a weight to it—something unsaid that hung between them.

Finally, Andrew spoke again, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been in the system since I was born. Twelve families in thirteen years. I can’t even count how many times I had to leave behind everything I thought was mine. All I’ve ever known is change.” He paused, his eyes flicking briefly to Neil. “Then I met Cass. She’s... the first one who ever really took me in, made me feel like I belonged.”

Neil stayed quiet, letting Andrew speak, not interrupting. When Andrew didn’t continue right away, Neil asked softly, “Did you like any of those past foster families? Any of them, even for a little while?”

Andrew shook his head, his jaw tightening as he spoke. “No. Not as long as I can remember. They were just places I had to stay until I moved on to the next one. Never felt like home.”

Neil could understand that, on a certain level. The idea of home was a fragile thing. He thought about his own past—about Henry—and then, without thinking, he shared. “I had a boyfriend, once. His name was Henry. He was... kind. Treated me like I was worth something. Like I was royalty, even before we were together. I met him about four months after I started living with my uncle.”

Andrew turned his head slightly to look at him. He said nothing, just listened.

“I loved him, I guess,” Neil continued, looking out at the city lights. “But he hurt me. A lot. Took a while to get over him, but I did. I’m better now. I’m not the same person I was back then.”

Andrew remained silent, watching Neil, waiting for him to continue.

Neil took a breath, his hands gripping the edge of the roof as he spoke. “I told Emma about... us. About what happened between us. She approve. She told me that if you make me happy I should go out with you.”

There was a long pause, the wind rustling around them. Andrew’s expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke volumes. Neil wasn’t sure what was running through his mind—whether it was the weight of their shared pasts, or something else entirely. But in that moment, Neil felt a strange sense of peace settle over him.

“Do I make you happy” Andrew finally asked, his voice steady.

“You do.” Neil admitted, glancing over at him. “I am sorry if I am rushing things, but I haven’t felt this save with someone outside my family since Henry.”

Andrew kept his face blank, but his eyes betrayed his real thought, it seemed he was satisfied.

Neil’s mind raced, wondering what Andrew was thinking, what he was feeling, but he kept his mouth shut, allowing the quiet to settle again between them. He wasn’t sure where they stood, not really, but somehow that felt okay. At least for now.

The night stretched on, neither of them in a hurry to break the silence. Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe this was enough for the moment.

The next morning, Neil returned to Fox Tower after spending his morning at the mall. He was dressed in his running gear, ready for an afternoon run to clear his head. As he passed through the living room, he noticed Nicky, Allison, Dan, and Aaron sprawled across the couches, engaged in a lively conversation.

“Neil!” Nicky called out the moment he spotted him. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, pausing by the door. “Why?”

“The fall banquet,” Nicky declared with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Do you have a date yet?”

Neil blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No.”

“Perfect!” Nicky grinned, turning to Aaron. “Alright, give him the list. He needs options.”

Aaron, who was slouched in his seat and clearly uninterested in the conversation, didn’t even look up from his phone. “Why would I have a list of single Vixens?”

“You’re dating one!” Nicky retorted. “I figured you’d know who’s available.”

Aaron sighed loudly, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

Neil crossed his arms, already regretting stopping to engage. “I’m not going with anyone. So don’t bother.”

“Oh, come on,” Nicky said, leaning forward eagerly. “You can’t just show up alone. It’s a formal event! You’ll look so lonely.”

“I won’t be,” Neil said firmly. “Nothing you say will change my mind.”

Allison, who had been watching the exchange with a smirk, decided to chime in. “Nicky’s right, Neil. You should at least consider it. Think about how much fun it could be to show up with someone—”

“No,” Neil cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t need a date to have fun. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Allison threw up her hands in defeat, clearly not expecting such a flat rejection. “Well, you’re no fun.”

Dan laughed from her spot on the couch. “I think he’s made up his mind, Nicky. Let it go.”

“But—”

“Let it go,” Dan repeated, giving him a pointed look.

Nicky sighed dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “Fine. But you’re missing out, Neil. Just saying.”

Neil ignored him, turning toward the door. “I’m going for a run. Try not to plot anything while I’m gone.”

“No promises!” Nicky called after him as Neil slipped out the door.

As Neil jogged down the hallway, he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. The Foxes were relentless, but he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Neil’s run was usually his time to clear his mind, to focus on the rhythm of his breathing and the pounding of his feet against the pavement. But something felt off. He noticed the car before he heard it—the slow, deliberate pace too consistent to be coincidental.

Frowning, Neil glanced over his shoulder. The sleek black car trailing behind him was unmistakable. The plates, though subtle, were burned into his memory. He slowed to a stop, standing on the side of the road as he waited for the car to catch up.

When it rolled to a halt beside him, the back window lowered, revealing Ichiro Moriyama’s face. His expression was as cool and unreadable as ever.

“Neil Hartford,” Ichiro greeted smoothly. “It’s been a while. I must say you are awfully hard to find.”

Neil clenched his fists at his sides, his pulse quickening, but not from exertion. “It seems you really don’t know about phones, do you? A call would have been appreciated.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Ichiro’s gaze darkened just slightly, the faintest trace of disapproval flickering across his face. “A man in my position finds personal meetings far more effective,” he said, his tone clipped. “But please, do join me.”

Neil hesitated, his mind racing with possible outcomes. Still, he opened the door and slid into the back seat, careful to maintain a calm demeanor despite the tension thrumming through his body. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and the driver pulled away from the curb.

Ichiro wasted no time. “I’ll get straight to the point,” he said. “My father’s health is failing. His time is limited, and soon, I will take his place.” His tone was devoid of emotion, but the weight of his words was undeniable. “As the new head of the Moriyama family, I’ll need someone skilled to handle delicate negotiations. Someone fluent in multiple languages, capable of understanding nuance, and discrete.”

Neil tensed, his thoughts jumping ahead to where this conversation was leading.

“You’re an intriguing candidate,” Ichiro continued, his sharp eyes fixed on Neil. “For reasons I’m sure you’ve yet to comprehend. Think of it as an offer—a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your skills, my resources. Consider what this could mean for your uncle’s connections in America.”

Neil’s jaw tightened. “You want me to be your translator.”

“A translator, yes. Among other things. I’ll leave the specifics for later discussions.”

Neil let out a dry laugh. “And you think I’d agree to this?”

Ichiro tilted his head, regarding Neil with the faintest hint of amusement. “I think you’re smart enough to consider the advantages before making a decision. I’m not asking for an answer now.”

The car slowed as it approached the curb again, and the driver came to a stop. Ichiro gestured toward the door. “Think it over, Neil. Call me when you’ve decided.”

Neil didn’t move immediately, his mind a whirlwind of anger, unease, and grim curiosity. Ichiro’s calm, calculated demeanor was maddening, but Neil couldn’t afford to show his cards. Finally, he reached for the door handle.

“Neil,” Ichiro said, stopping him in his tracks. “Think seriously about my proposal. We will make a pretty good team.”

Neil shot him a glare but didn’t reply as he stepped out of the car and shut the door firmly behind him. The sleek vehicle pulled away, leaving him standing on the side of the road with more questions than answers.

When Neil returned to the dorms, his thoughts still tangled from his encounter with Ichiro, he was hoping for some quiet. But as soon as he stepped inside, his hopes were dashed. Seth, Allison, Matt, and Dan were sprawled across the living room, their conversation loud and animated.

Neil tried to make his escape before anyone noticed him, but Allison’s sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Neil,” she said, her tone both amused and commanding. “Just the man I was waiting for.”

He froze and turned slowly to face her. “What?”

“We’re going to the mall,” she announced. “Since you’ve decided to go stag to the banquet, you need to at least look respectable.”

Neil frowned, already sensing a trap. “I have clothes.”

Allison waved her hand dismissively. “Your style is fine for everyday, but I can’t trust you to pick out something as important as a banquet outfit. So you’re coming with us.”

Neil opened his mouth to argue, but Matt cut him off with a chuckle. “Come on, Neil. You get away with a lot, but you’re not dodging this one.”

“I don’t need new clothes,” Neil protested, his voice tinged with irritation.

Seth leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Good luck convincing Allison of that. Once she’s got her mind set on something, there’s no stopping her. And trust me, I don’t want to hear her complaining later if you show up in something she doesn’t approve of.”

Neil gave Seth an unimpressed look. “You’re a lot of help.”

Seth shrugged. “Hey, man, self-preservation. You’re on your own.”

Dan was laughing at their antics, clearly enjoying Neil’s misery. “Just give up, Neil. It’s easier this way. Plus, you might even have fun.”

Neil sighed deeply, his expression one of exaggerated suffering. “Fine. But I’m only going so you’ll all stop bothering me.”

Allison smirked in triumph. “I knew you’d see reason.”

Neil grumbled as he turned to head toward his room. “I’ll take a shower and change. But if you try to make me try something I don’t approve of, don’t expect me to stay quiet about it.”

Matt snorted. “Oh, Neil. You’ve got no idea what you’ve just signed up for.”

As Neil disappeared down the hall, Dan exchanged a look with Allison and Matt, her grin widening. “This is going to be fun.”

Neil, on the other hand, was already regretting his decision. He knew one thing for sure—this trip was going to be anything but relaxing and the black card Stuart give him was going to take a big hit today.

The mall experience was every bit as chaotic as Neil had feared, but he had to admit—if only to himself—that it wasn’t entirely terrible. Allison was relentless, dragging him from one store to the next with an energy that Neil found both impressive and exhausting.

“Neil, try this one!” Allison exclaimed, holding up yet another outfit that made Neil immediately regret his decision to come along.

He took one look at the sleek black leather pants and fitted tank top she was suggesting and sighed. “Allison, that’s... not appropriate for a banquet.”

She smirked, undeterred. “Not everything’s for the banquet, Neil. You’ve got to have options.”

Neil begrudgingly tried on the outfit, and when he stepped out of the dressing room, Allison’s smug grin grew impossibly wider. “See? You look amazing.”

Matt whistled appreciatively. “She’s not wrong, Neil. That outfit’s got ‘wow’ factor.”

Neil looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. The outfit was undeniably flattering, accentuating his lean frame and making his shoulders seem broader. His legs and... other features, were definitely highlighted.

“It’s not happening,” Neil said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Allison pressed, looking genuinely baffled.

“Because I’m not walking into the banquet looking like... this.”

“Fine, fine,” Allison said, waving him back into the dressing room. “But you’re buying it anyway. You’re keeping it for... future occasions.”

Neil narrowed his eyes but relented. “If it’ll get us out of here faster.”

Finally, after much negotiation, Neil settled on a dark blue suit similar in style to what Matt and Seth planned to wear. He paired it with a black silk button-up shirt and formal black shoes. Allison was so pleased with the choice that she didn’t even protest when Neil vetoed her more daring suggestions.

“The blue makes your eyes pop,” she declared as he paid for the outfit. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

But Allison wasn’t done yet. With time to spare before they had to head back, the group decided to grab coffee. Allison’s insistence on Starbucks was no surprise, and soon enough, they were seated at a small table with their drinks.

“This is the life,” Allison said, sipping her macchiato. “Shopping, coffee, and good company.”

The group sat around the table at Starbucks, their drinks in hand. Neil was nursing a plain black coffee while Allison sipped on something complicated and sugary, complete with whipped cream and sprinkles.

“Okay,” Matt said, leaning forward with a curious look. “I’ve got a question for you, Neil.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, taking a small sip from his cup. “Go on.”

“Where are you from?” Matt asked. “You’ve got this… I don’t know, vibe. And I swear I’ve heard a bit of an accent, but I can’t place it.”

Neil blinked, caught slightly off guard. He’d always known his faint British accent lingered, though he’d done a good job suppressing it when needed. “London,” he said finally. “I’m from London, England, but I was born here in America and move after I became ten years old.” It wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth either. He didn’t plan on telling his whole tragic story so it didn’t matter.

The words were barely out of his mouth when Allison let out a triumphant shout, slamming her hands on the table. “Yes! Pay up, losers!”

Neil blinked, utterly confused. “What?”

Dan grinned and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, we had a bet going about where you were from. Allison guessed England. Matt thought Canada.”

Matt groaned, already pulling his wallet from his pocket. “I thought the French thing was just because he’s classy or something. Not because he’s literally from Europe.”

“Twenty bucks,” Allison said, holding her hand out expectantly.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Matt muttered as he slapped the bill into her hand.

“I always enjoy being right,” Allison said, pocketing her winnings.

Neil stared at them, baffled. “You bet on where I was from?”

“Oh, don’t let it weird you out,” Seth said casually. “We bet on everything. Who’s gonna win games, who’ll get the last slice of pizza, how long it takes someone to break a rule…”

“Whether you’re from Canada or England, apparently,” Neil said dryly.

“Exactly,” Seth said, smirking. “It’s tradition at this point.”

Neil shook his head, sipping his coffee. “You’re all insane.”

“And proud of it,” Allison said with a wink. “But seriously, you’re from England? That’s so unfair. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Neil replied. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

Matt shook his head, still looking a little baffled. “I guess I just didn’t pick up on it. Maybe because you don’t talk much. That’s wild, though.”

“You live with your uncle, right?” Dan chimed in. “Does he live here, or back in England?”

Neil nodded. “Back in England. He and Emma didn’t move when I came here.”

“What about before that?” Matt asked. “You said you moved around a lot.”

Neil nodded, keeping his tone casual. “Different places. My uncle’s work meant we didn’t stay anywhere long. I’ve lived in Europe, Canada, a couple of places here in the States…”

“France?” Dan asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I heard you speaking French to Kevin when we went to Kathy’s show. Were you there?”

Neil hesitated only briefly before nodding. “For a bit, yes.”

“Man of mystery,” Allison teased. “But France makes sense. That accent of yours has layers.”

Neil gave her a dry look. “It’s not that interesting.”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” Dan countered. “Especially since you speak fluent French. You’re hiding all sorts of things, Neil.”

Neil didn’t answer, instead taking another sip of his coffee. His silence only seemed to add to the intrigue, though, because Matt and Dan kept throwing each other knowing looks.

Before anyone could press further, Allison glanced at her phone. “Time’s up, folks. We’ve got to head back if we’re going to make it for dinner.”

Neil couldn’t have been more relieved. He stood, grabbing his coffee cup. “Good idea.”

As they made their way out of the coffee shop, Neil silently wondered if his casual answers had satisfied their curiosity—or just stoked the fire even more.

The ride back to the dorms was filled with light chatter, mostly Allison recounting her “undefeated streak” in betting. Neil tuned most of it out, letting the others’ voices wash over him. When they arrived, the group naturally split—Dan and Allison heading toward their rooms while Neil, Seth, and Matt walked toward their shared dorm.

As they entered their room, Seth flopped onto his bed with an exaggerated groan. “Long day,” he muttered.

Matt snorted, tossing his keys onto his desk. “You didn’t even try on anything, man. You had the easiest time of all of us.”

Neil smirked faintly but didn’t comment. Instead, he shrugged off his jacket and headed toward the door. “I’m going to grab dinner. You guys want anything?”

Seth waved him off. “Nah, I’m good.”

“I’m fine too,” Matt added. “Thanks, though.”

Neil nodded and left, stepping into the cool evening air. His destination was already clear—McDonald’s, a reliable option when he didn’t feel like overthinking his meals. Once there, he ordered a cheeseburger and a side salad for himself. As he waited for his order, his thoughts wandered to the night ahead.

As his order number was called, Neil added something else to the list: a sweet treat for Andrew since he is sure he will see him on the rooftop later. He opted for a McFlurry, figuring it’d survive the trip back to the dorms. Andrew’s sharp tongue and biting demeanor didn’t erase the fact that he had an undeniable weakness for anything sugary.

When Neil returned to the dorms, he made his way back to his room and settled in to eat. The cheeseburger disappeared quickly, and the salad was a half-hearted afterthought. The McFlurry, though, stayed untouched. Neil set it on the desk, waiting for the inevitable moment he’d take it to the rooftop and offer it to Andrew.

Neil stepped onto the rooftop, the cool air brushing against his face. He hadn’t been surprised to find Andrew already there, as he’d started to expect him whenever he came up. It had become their spot in the evenings, a quiet, shared space that neither of them had ever explicitly agreed on, but somehow understood.

Neil reached into his bag and pulled out the sweet he’d grabbed for Andrew earlier. “I got you something,” he said, offering it without fanfare.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, taking it from him. “Why?”

Neil shrugged. “I know you like sweets. When I was getting my food, I thought of you.”

Andrew didn’t show much, but his gaze lingered on Neil for a second longer than usual. For a brief moment, Neil could see something in Andrew’s eyes—something soft. But before he could dwell on it, Andrew just tucked the sweet away, his face unreadable again.

Neil couldn’t help himself, though. A question had been eating at him for a while, and now seemed like the right time to ask.

"Why did the Oakland PD call you?" he asked.

Andrew looked out over the city for a long moment, taking his time before he answered. “And here I thought you won’t ask. Children's Services is opening an investigation into one of my foster fathers,” he said finally, his tone flat. “Pig Higgins knew I lived with them, so he called me looking for testimony."

Neil nodded, trying to absorb the information. “But you won’t help him?”

Andrew flicked his fingers dismissively, his eyes cold. “Richard Spear is an uninteresting but relatively harmless human being. They won’t find anything to pin on him.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, a thought lingering in his mind. “You sure? Your reaction was a little extreme for a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t like that word,” Andrew said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Neil paused. “Extreme?”

“Misunderstanding.”

Neil furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. “It’s an odd word to have a grudge against. Why?”

“That is a story for another time.” Andrew’s tone was sharp again, and Neil could sense that the subject was closed.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Andrew spoke again. “Why did you and Henry broke up?”

Neil flinched at the question, his chest tightening. He had moved past Henry, but the thought of explaining it to Andrew—of speaking about it aloud—made something in his gut twist. He couldn’t do it. Not yet.

“Can you ask me something else?” Neil said, his voice was a little too quiet.

Andrew studied him for a moment, but he didn’t press. “Will you go back to England for the Christmas break?”

Neil blinked in surprise, his mind racing with the sudden shift in conversation. “Probably,” he said, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Why do you want to know? Are you hoping I’ll spend the Christmas break with you?”

Andrew didn’t answer immediately. His ears flushed a deep red, and Neil couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up at the sight.

Andrew’s gaze flickered up to meet Neil’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet down. Neil’s laugh died in his throat, and the teasing grin faded. They stood there, staring at each other, the tension between them thickening.

Andrew’s voice broke the silence. “Yes or no?”

Neil’s heart skipped a beat at the question, but before he could second-guess himself, the answer slipped out of him without hesitation. “Yes.”

And then, before Neil could process the moment, Andrew was stepping closer. Their lips met in a kiss, slow and hesitant at first, but as it deepened, it felt like something had shifted—something that neither of them could ignore anymore.

When they pulled apart, neither of them said anything. They simply stood there, a little closer than before, the space between them now filled with something that hadn’t been there moments ago.

And somehow, without a word, they both understood: things had changed, and they weren’t sure where it was leading, but neither of them was quite ready to pull away.

Chapter Text

July’s lottery had named Blackwell University as the host for the annual fall banquet, and the Foxes were making their final preparations to leave. Though the event stretched across two days, the team unanimously decided that six hours of forced politeness and fake smiles were all they could stomach.

Neil stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his dark blue suit. The fabric hugged his frame perfectly—tailored with Allison’s insistence and paid for with Stuart’s black card. His hair was styled neatly, and a spritz of the expensive cologne Emma had gifted him finished the look. Neil didn’t bring a date, but he felt no embarrassment about it. He had far too much on his mind to worry about social conventions.

The rest of the team was another story. Allison and Seth paired up, a natural match despite their constant bickering. Dan and Matt, predictably inseparable, looked like they belonged on the cover of a sports magazine. Renee and Andrew opted to attend together, though strictly as friends. Their calm demeanor provided a stark contrast to Nicky’s exuberance as he introduced his date, Jim, from his improv class.

The biggest surprise was Aaron. He had finally worked up the nerve to ask Katelyn, his long-rumored secret girlfriend, to accompany him. Her presence sparked two bets among the Foxes: one, whether Aaron would ever muster the courage to ask her, and two, how Andrew would react.

Neil observed the latter with muted curiosity. Andrew didn’t acknowledge Katelyn, not with a greeting, a glance, or even the barest flicker of recognition. Instead, he looked past her and around her, like she was air.

The bus ride to Blackwell was smoother than Neil anticipated. For the first time, the team didn’t split into its usual factions: the Monsters and the Upperclassmen. The team mingled freely, laughing and joking with each other. Even Kevin, who spent most of the ride in silent dread, wasn’t immune to their antics.

“Cheer up, Kev!” Matt teased from the front. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Kevin’s pale face didn’t change as he muttered, “Riko and the Master are the worst that could happen.”

The team howled with laughter, though it was tinged with a nervous edge.

Neil sat beside Andrew at the back of the bus. They didn’t speak, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that settled when words weren’t necessary. Neil caught Andrew’s reflection in the window, the faintest smirk playing on his lips at the team’s banter.

For a moment, Neil let himself relax. Whatever the banquet held in store for them, they’d face it together.

They weren’t the first team to arrive, but they also weren’t the last. As the bus came to a stop, Wymack turned to the remaining members of the team. “Get out,” he ordered. Everyone, except for Kevin, Andrew, and Neil, filed off the bus, eager to stretch their legs.

Wymack lingered in the aisle for a moment, a bottle of vodka in hand. Kevin’s face was pale, his nerves visibly frayed as they all prepared to enter the stadium. Without a word, Wymack handed Kevin the bottle and said, “You have ten seconds. Drink as much as you can.”

It was alarming how quickly Kevin complied. He took the bottle in one hand and tipped it back, drinking with a desperation that shocked even Neil. The vodka seemed to settle Kevin, but it also made Neil uneasy to witness the extent to which Kevin relied on the alcohol. Wymack had to practically pry the bottle from Kevin’s fingers when the ten seconds were up, and Kevin looked steadier—less shaky—though still pale.

As the three of them stepped off the bus, security guards stationed at the entrance to the stadium glanced up from their clipboards. They exchanged a silent look, checking the team off a list before allowing them through. Neil could see that the guards were taking note of Kevin’s unsteady gait, but no one stopped them.

The Blackwell stadium was eerily quiet as the Foxes made their way inside. The usual sounds of anticipation and excitement that would fill a sports arena before a major event were absent. Instead, the vast, open space was unsettlingly still. It wasn’t just the emptiness that made it uncomfortable; it was the tension in the air, thick enough to be felt with each step.

Everyone who had arrived earlier was already gathered on the court, their teams sitting around tables that were placed strategically around the perimeter. The floor was covered with thick cushioned mats, protecting the polished wood from any accidental scrapes from chairs or tables. The lights overhead were all on, bright and blinding, but the overhead scoreboard remained dark, as if waiting for something to trigger it into life.

Neil felt a chill crawl up his spine as he looked around at the mass of people. Fourteen teams, a total of two hundred and fifty athletes, and another ninety or so of their dates and staff, all gathered together. Despite the wide expanse of the court, it felt crowded, too many bodies moving in all directions, and it made Neil’s skin itch.

It was a far cry from the usual court setup, where Exy was played with all its intensity and focus. This wasn’t a game, not for him. This was a gathering—a show—and the fact that this was happening on an Exy court made him feel strangely out of place.

As Neil walked through the stadium, his mind briefly wandered back to another event—another grand display. The Hartford’s annual Christmas’s ball. He hadn’t thought of it in months, not since the last time he was forced to attend. He couldn’t quite shake the memory of the extravagance, the glittering chandeliers, the perfect smiles and perfectly dressed people, pretending like nothing was wrong in their perfectly choreographed lives. For the first time in a long time, Neil found himself missing that life—if only because it felt more predictable.

Unlike tonight.

He forced the thought from his mind. That life was far behind him. The only thing he needed to focus on now was making it through the evening. This wasn’t the ball at Hartford mansion; this wasn’t about appearances. This was a test, and the Ravens would make sure to remind them of that at every turn.

Wymack opened the court door, and the Foxes walked in. As they entered, a coach grabbed a megaphone and announced their arrival, his voice booming through the empty space. Conversations faltered, and all eyes turned toward the Foxes as they walked in. Neil kept his gaze forward, his jaw clenched, trying to ignore the sudden weight of attention.

Wymack didn’t waste time with formalities. He gave a brief nod to the coach, and after a silent exchange with Dan, he gestured for the team to continue moving forward. Abby stayed behind with him, casting a last worried glance at Kevin, who still looked shaken but more grounded now that the alcohol had settled into his system. He was no longer trembling, but there was still a hollow look in his eyes.

The seating arrangement was clear: chairs with paper banners draped across them, displaying school colors and mascots. They were easy enough to find, and the Foxes made their way toward the section with orange chairs. The Ravens were already seated across from them.

Neil’s gaze shifted involuntarily toward the other team, the sight of them freezing his steps for just a moment. The Ravens, as usual, were an unsettling sight. They wore all black—black suits, black dresses, black everything. They were perfectly coordinated, unnervingly so. The men were seated with their elbows on the table, hands folded beneath their chins, while the two women mirrored the same pose. The uniformity among them made them look almost robotic, their movements stiff, their faces unreadable.

But it was clear from the way the Foxes moved, with Andrew leading the charge, that they wouldn’t let the Ravens intimidate them.

“Motherfucker,” Dan muttered under her breath, though Neil could hear the heat in her voice. He didn’t blame her. But Dan didn’t pause for long. She marched straight to the table with determination, and Andrew followed without so much as a glance at the Ravens. Kevin, clearly nervous but still following Andrew’s lead, came up behind him.

Neil observed the Ravens from across the room, taking note of the absence of any dates or casual chatter. There was nothing but their stoic presence and their intimidating uniformity. Even the way they sat, perfectly aligned, made them seem more like soldiers than athletes.

But it was Andrew’s reaction that caught Neil’s attention the most.

“Maybe this will be fun after all,” Andrew said, his voice a quiet, almost amused murmur as he looked over at the Ravens. “Come on, Kevin. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Kevin, visibly pale but steadying himself with Andrew’s encouragement, nodded silently. They approached the table, and Neil felt a strange shift in the air—a heaviness that he couldn’t quite explain. It was one thing to face the Ravens on the court, but in this setting, on neutral ground, there was a new layer of tension.

As they neared the Ravens’ table, Neil could almost feel the weight of Riko’s stare, even though he hadn’t seen him yet. He could imagine Riko’s eyes, sharp and calculating, watching him from across the room. But there was no need to turn his head. He wasn’t worried about Riko—not right now.

The night had only just begun.

"Riko," Dan said, pulling out the chair directly opposite him. "Dan Wilds."

Riko barely looked up from his position at the table, offering Dan a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. His hand extended in a languid, almost theatrical motion, as if he were some lord offering his hand for a kiss. Neil already felt annoyed.

Dan didn’t hesitate, though. She grabbed his hand firmly and squeezed it, holding it just a moment longer than necessary. Riko’s smile widened, clearly pleased by the gesture, but there was no sign of respect behind it—just a cold, condescending amusement.

“I know who you are,” Riko said, his voice oozing with arrogance. “Who here doesn’t? You’re the woman who captains a Class I team. You’ve done admittedly well despite your… disadvantages.”

Dan’s brow furrowed. “What disadvantages?”

Riko’s smirk deepened, and he tilted his head, considering her for a moment. “Do you really want me to start listing them?” he asked, as if the idea of deigning to explain himself was beneath him. “This is only a two-day event, Hennessey.”

Neil didn’t quite understand the full meaning of Riko’s words, but Matt did. He leaned forward, his face darkening in warning. “Careful, Riko,” he growled, a protective edge to his voice.

Dan placed a hand on Matt’s arm, gently urging him back down before his temper could get the best of him. With a measured breath, she pulled out her seat and sat down, unbothered.

The rest of the Foxes settled around her. Allison quietly took the seat between Renee and Seth, while Andrew’s group filled the space on her right next to Matt. Neil found himself seated closer to Riko than he’d like, but he keep his cool. He wouldn’t let a spoiled, arrogant brat like him ruin his evening.

But Riko wasn’t the only problem at the table. As the Foxes sat, the man next to Riko stood up, his movements sharp and purposeful. Neil didn’t need to ask who he was. The black three tattooed on the left side of his cheekbone gave him away. It was unmistakable—Jean Moreau, the Ravens’ starting backliner and a supposed old friend of Kevin’s.

Jean walked around the table, weaving through the Ravens, until he was standing directly across from Neil. Without a word, he placed two fingers on the shoulder of the woman seated next to him and gestured for her to move. She stood without protest, sliding into the seat he had just vacated. Moreau took her place and sat down across from Neil.

As soon as he took his seat, the entire Ravens team seemed to shift. The frozen, synchronized stillness they’d maintained since entering the room evaporated as they leaned back in their chairs, one fluid motion. The only one who remained rigidly seated was Riko because of course he did. But Jean who had just taken a seat across from Neil didn’t lean back—he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he considered Neil, his gaze intense and calculating. There was no friendliness in Jean’s eyes tonight, only a quiet, simmering hostility that made Neil’s skin crawl.

“You look familiar,” Jean said, his English thick with a French accent.

Neil met his gaze steadily. “If you watched Kathy’s show, you saw me there,” he replied coolly, his voice showing the irritation he felt in the present of the Ravens.

Jean’s lips twitched slightly at the mention of the show, but his eyes never left Neil. There was no warmth in his expression, only a tension that hung between them, thick and unspoken.

"Ah, you are right," Jean said with an exaggerated nod, his tone laced with mock politeness. "That must be it. What was your name again? Alex? Stefan? Chris?"

Neil leaned back slightly in his chair, meeting Jean's gaze with unshaken confidence. "I see Riko did some digging ," he said smoothly. Then, turning to Riko with a pointed look, he added, "Unfortunately, since you're out of the loop, let me help you out. My name is Neil Hartford. Search up the Hartford name and then talk to me, you spoiled little brat."

Riko’s expression darkened for a fraction of a second before he schooled it into a smirk. He leaned forward slightly, the light catching in his eyes in a way that made them look sharper, more dangerous. "Neil Hartford," he repeated, his tone mocking as if testing the name on his tongue. Then, with a deliberate pause, he asked, "How’s your mother?"

Dan’s chair scraped loudly as she shifted, her voice cutting through the tense air. "Don’t antagonize my team, Riko. This isn’t the place for it."

Riko raised his hands in mock innocence. "I was being polite," he said with a thin smile. "You haven’t seen me antagonistic yet."

Before Dan could respond, Jean turned his attention to Kevin. His tone changed, quieter but no less charged. "Hello, Kevin."

"Jean," Kevin said, his voice subdued but steady.

Jean’s smile curled lazily on his lips, but his gray eyes were cold as ice. Neither he nor Kevin said another word, but the tension between them was palpable as they stared each other down, unblinking.

Andrew broke the silence, leaning forward just enough to catch Jean’s attention. He extended a hand toward him, his expression unreadable. Jean hesitated but eventually took it. A mistake.

Andrew’s knuckles turned white as he gripped Jean’s hand, squeezing with a force that made Jean flinch despite his best effort to mask it. The cool, composed look on Jean’s face faltered, replaced by a scowl.

"I'm Andrew," he said flatly. "We haven’t met yet."

"For which I am grateful," Jean retorted, his voice sharp. "The Foxes as a whole are an embarrassment to Class I Exy, but your very existence is unforgivable. A goalkeeper who doesn’t care if he is scored on has no right to touch a racquet. You should have stayed on the sidelines like the publicity stunt you are."

"That’s a bit out of line, don’t you think?" Renee interjected, her voice calm but pointed.

The woman seated next to Riko let out a derisive snort. "If someone like that replaced you in goal, you must be downright terrible. I can’t wait to watch one of your matches. I think it’ll be entertaining. We’d make a drinking game of it, but we don’t want to die of alcohol poisoning."

"Yeah, that’d be a shame," Dan said dryly, her sarcasm heavy.

"This is the first time our teams have met," Renee said, her composure unshaken. "Do we have to start off so poorly?"

"Why not? You’re poor at everything else you do," the woman shot back with a smirk. "Is it honestly fun to be so terrible?"

"I imagine we have more fun than you do, yes," Renee said, her smile serene.

"Fun is for children," Jean snapped.

Andrew released Jean’s hand, and Jean finally pulled it back, though the delay made it clear he didn’t want to seem rushed. Meanwhile, Riko barely moved, but Neil noticed his subtle shift in posture, and he wasn’t the only one. Jean seemed to pick up on it, too, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"At this level, it’s supposed to be about skill," Jean said coldly. "And your team is sadly lacking. You have no right to play with us."

"Then you shouldn’t have transferred districts," Matt said, his tone biting. Then Seth added "No one wants you here."

"You took something that does not belong to you," a Raven added from across the table. "You brought this year’s humiliation on yourselves."

"We didn’t take anything," Dan said firmly. "Kevin wants to be here."

The Raven laughed. "Don’t tell me you really believe that. Kevin went to you because someone had to teach you what Exy is supposed to look like on a court. If he’d stayed on as an assistant coach, maybe he could stomach your failures. Now that he’s playing with you? There’s no way he’ll last the season. We know Kevin better than you ever will. We know how much your incompetence must grate on him."

"So do we," Aaron said bluntly. "It’s not like he’s shy with his opinion."

Kevin’s voice was quiet but resolute. "They know how I feel, but words alone won’t fix anything. A team that needs this much work requires a larger commitment than that."

"You won’t stay," Jean said, his words carrying the weight of a command. "You should reconsider our offer before we rescind it for good, Kevin. Face the facts. Your pet is and always will be dead weight. It’s time to—"

"What?" Andrew interrupted, his wide-eyed expression feigning shock. "You have a pet, Kevin? And you never told us? Where do you keep it?"

Jean’s glare turned icy as he snapped, "Don’t interrupt me, Doe."

Nicky made a sharp, offended noise, but Andrew remained unfazed. "Points for trying," Andrew said, his tone dismissive, "but save your breath. Here’s a tip for you, okay? You can’t cut down someone who’s already in the gutter. You just waste your time and mine."

Dan’s voice cut sharply through the tension. "If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. That goes for both teams." She shot a particularly pointed look at the Ravens.

Predictably, Riko smirked and gestured toward Neil. "Is that why your new disappointment is so quiet?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "He doesn’t have anything ‘nice’ to say?"

"Leave him alone," Matt growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Seth leaned forward, his frustration evident. "Man, what the fuck is your problem? Just leave us alone. We don’t even want to be here, and now we have to deal with you, too?"

Riko’s smirk widened as he turned his attention to Seth. "Seth Gordon—the Foxes’ biggest failure," Riko sneered. "You’re the weakest link on your team. No talent, no drive, and a junkie on top of it all. It’s a wonder you haven’t overdosed in some filthy bar bathroom yet."

Riko’s words struck a nerve, and Seth’s expression shifted from anger to something raw and deeply wounded.

Neil couldn’t stay silent any longer. Seth wasn’t the man he used to be. He’d fought to change, apologized for his past, and worked hard to earn his place on the team. Riko’s words were a low blow, and Neil decided to shut him down.

"You know," Neil began, his voice cutting through the air, "I get it. Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

"Neil," Kevin said, his voice low and frantic, but Neil ignored him.

"I know it’s not entirely your fault that you’re mentally unbalanced and infected with delusions of grandeur," Neil continued, his tone cool but searing, "and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation like every other normal human being, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone."

The room fell into stunned silence. The Ravens stared at Neil, their unified front shattered by his words. Riko’s expression was a mask of pure fury, his eyes cold enough to freeze fire. Neil wasn’t intimidated.

"Dan," Neil added with a sardonic smile, "I said please. I tried to be nice."

"Matt," Dan choked out, her voice almost breaking. "Matt, Coach. Get Coach. Oh my god."

Matt bolted from his seat and hurried off.

Jean, for the first time, looked genuinely alarmed. "You can’t say things like that," he said, his voice horrified.

Neil turned to Jean, his expression unflinching. "I just did. He shouldn’t have insulted my teammate."

Jean spun on Kevin, speaking rapid French, his words sharp and angry. "What the hell is this?"

Kevin didn’t flinch under the verbal assault. "His antagonism is a personality flaw we’re learning to live with," he said evenly.

"Live with?" Jean repeated, appalled. "No! You should have dealt with him two weeks ago when he first stepped out of line. We trusted you to discipline him. Why doesn’t he know his place yet?"

"Neil has no place in Riko’s games," Kevin replied firmly. "He is a Fox."

"He is not a Fox!" Jean snapped.

"Funny," Neil interjected in fluent French, catching Jean off guard. "I’m pretty sure the contract I signed said Palmetto State University."

Jean’s shock deepened, but he recovered quickly. "A contract doesn’t change facts," he said coldly. "Did you forget who bought you?"

"Bought me?" Neil repeated, his tone mocking. "Poor little Jean. Don’t you know? I’ve been a free man for a long time."

Jean was too stunned to respond, and before anyone could speak again, Wymack arrived, his face a mask of barely-contained frustration. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

The silence was deafening as no one answered. Finally, Wymack sighed. "You’re moving tables. Now. Get up."

Neil didn’t wait to be told twice, shoving his chair back and stepping away from the table. Before he could leave, Jean called out to him, his voice fast and sharp in French.

"Riko will have a few minutes of your time later," Jean said. "I suggest you speak with him if you don’t want everyone to know you’re the Butcher’s son."

Hearing his father’s name aloud hit Neil like a physical blow. The air seemed to leave his lungs, and he barely registered the hoarse noise Kevin made beside him. Reacting on instinct, Neil shoved Kevin back from the table, his hand on Kevin’s chest to keep him away.

"That’s not true," Kevin gasped, his voice breaking.

"Shut up," Neil said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. He didn’t know who he was speaking to—Kevin, Jean, or himself. "Don’t say anything else."

Wymack stayed behind to deal with the Ravens, and the Foxes left as quickly as possible. They crossed the room in tense silence, attracting curious stares from the other attendees. Their new table was on the outskirts of the event, but no one seemed to mind.

When they settled, Kevin turned to Neil, his expression stricken. Gripping Neil’s chin, Kevin forced him to meet his gaze. Neil didn’t fight it, but his hands shook beneath the table.

Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but Neil cut him off in quiet, strained French. "No, Kevin. Not here. You and I will talk tomorrow."

Kevin nodded reluctantly, and the conversation ended, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

Wymack crossed his arms, his stern glare fixed on Neil. "Did you or did you not tell me you weren't going to start a fight?"

Before Neil could respond, Nicky jumped in from his other side. "In Neil's defense—"

"I didn't ask you," Wymack snapped, cutting Nicky off. "Neil, talk to me."

Neil was still simmering with anger, and it showed in his clipped tone. "Riko had it coming," he said bluntly. His hands were clenched into fists under the table, and his jaw tightened as he thought about the smug look on Riko's face.

Wymack sighed, a long, annoyed sound that carried more exasperation than anger. He rubbed at his temples, clearly weighing whether this was worth escalating further. "Fine," he muttered. "Go cool off before you do something stupid."

Neil didn’t need to be told twice. He stood and excused himself, pushing his chair back with enough force to make it scrape loudly against the floor. The Foxes watched him as he left the table and headed for the nearest exit.

Outside, Neil lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The cold night air did little to douse the fire of his anger, but each inhale and exhale calmed him incrementally. He could still feel the echoes of Riko's words, the lingering rage at the insult to Seth and the attempt to manipulate Kevin. Neil stared out into the night, trying to decide if there was anything worse than Riko Moriyama.

Eventually, he extinguished the cigarette, rolled his shoulders, and forced himself to breathe deeply. Killing Riko wasn’t an option for now, but he could at least focus on what mattered: his team.

When Neil returned to the table, the tension had shifted. The Foxes were nearly done with their dinner, their earlier anger muted. Seth looked up as Neil approached and said, "Hey, thanks for what you did back there. Standing up for me, I mean. It was badass."

Matt nodded in agreement, and Allison raised her glass slightly in a silent toast. "Yeah, Neil," she said with a smile. "Who knew you had it in you?"

Neil shrugged, his expression softening. "We're a team," he said simply, his voice quiet but resolute. "That's what matters. We stick together, no matter what."

Dan, who had been quietly observing the exchange, leaned forward. "Neil's right," she said, her tone apologetic. "And while we're at it, I owe Andrew and the rest of your group an apology. I know things haven’t been perfect between us, but maybe it’s time to put it behind us. Start fresh."

Andrew studied Dan for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Fine. But don’t expect me to get sentimental about it."

Seth grinned and lifted his glass. "A toast," he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "To a new beginning for the Foxes!"

Everyone raised their glasses, clinking them together with a cheer. There was unity among them—a sense of camaraderie that transcended the tension of the evening.

After finishing their meals, the music from the dance floor grew louder, calling to the teams who were ready to let loose. One by one, the Foxes got up from their seats and made their way to join the crowd. The dance floor was filled with athletes from all the teams, an unspoken truce prevailing for the moment. Laughter and music replaced hostility as they mingled under the bright lights.

Neil hesitated on the edge of the dance floor, watching his team blend into the chaos. Dan grabbed his hand and pulled him forward with a grin. "Come on, Hartford," she said, her tone teasing. "Let’s show them how the Foxes have fun."

For the first time that evening, Neil let himself relax. It wasn’t perfect, and there was still so much to figure out. But in this moment, surrounded by his team, it felt like they were finally moving forward.

The party was in full swing when Allison’s sharp intake of breath pulled Neil’s attention to the court. The Ravens were crossing the space toward them in an unmistakable V-formation, their dark uniforms cutting through the revelry like a flock of predatory birds.

“Of course they’d ruin the night,” Allison muttered under her breath, stepping closer to the group.

Kevin stiffened beside Andrew, his face going pale as he shifted closer to his defenders. Neil shoved his hands into his pockets, his fists clenching tight enough to make his knuckles ache.

Riko led the Ravens to a stop, holding back far enough that Neil thought maybe they were just here to posture. He quickly realized his mistake when the rest of the Ravens shifted, completing their formation and boxing Neil, Kevin, and Andrew in.

“Offense or offensive?” Matt’s voice broke the tense silence as he sidled up next to Neil. He leaned in, grinning in the face of the Ravens' glares. “Matt Boyd, starting backliner for the Foxes. I’m the one who’s going to be wrecking your goals this October. Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand, clearly mocking, and didn’t look surprised when no one took it. “Guess the pleasure’s all mine.”

The Raven striker nearest him sneered. “We’re sure it is, seeing how you’re dating a prostitute.”

“Stripper,” Dan corrected, appearing beside Matt with an arm wrapped protectively around his waist. She dangled her stilettos from one hand, the heels swinging in time with her words. “I hope you’re smart enough to distinguish between the two professions. If not, I’m deeply concerned about your academic standings.”

Neil froze, unsure how to react to the insult. Dan’s easy dismissal made him hesitate, the memory of her vague comments about her high school job resurfacing. He’d assumed she’d been a stocker or clerk—something harmless. This revelation was unexpected, and her calm response made it clear there was more to the story than he understood.

“Hennessey, right?” one of the strikers said, his tone deliberately sleazy. “Such a fitting name for such a fierce spirit.”

“Disappointed you didn’t join the entertainment tonight,” another striker chimed in, dragging his gaze up and down Dan’s figure. “We were looking forward to the show.”

The deliberate, syrupy once-over made Matt twitch violently, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Before he could act, Dan dug her fingers into his hip, holding him back. She didn’t need anyone fighting her battles. Sliding away from Matt, she stepped into the striker’s personal space, staring him down with a calm, unyielding gaze.

The striker smirked, leaning closer to breathe in against her neck. That was his mistake.

Dan’s stilettos shot up in a vicious strike between his legs. The Raven recoiled with a high-pitched yelp, collapsing halfway to the floor. His teammates flinched and turned away, their faces twisted with discomfort.

“Yeah, Hennessey,” Dan said coolly, brushing off her hands as if she’d touched something dirty. “Treats you right if you’re willing to pay, and fucks you over the morning after if you’re not. Sorry, but this bottle’s already claimed. Hope you feel that for a while, you lowlife.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and pressed herself back against Matt’s side. Matt wrapped an arm around her protectively, though his shoulders remained tense.

Neil broke the silence with teasing comment. “What happened to being polite, Dan?”

Dan laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Do as I say, rookie. Not as I do.”

Before anyone could retort, a booming voice cut through the space. “Kevin Day.”

The Ravens turned as one, their predatory focus shifting toward their coach. Tetsuji Moriyama stood at the apex of their formation, his presence as commanding as it was cold. Neil felt the chill of his gaze despite the distance, but he wasn’t afraid of him.

“Master,” Kevin stammered, his voice catching on the word. “It’s been a while.”

Moriyama gestured, and the Ravens broke formation. They spread out, forcing the Foxes into smaller clusters. Neil lost sight of Matt and Dan as the Ravens pushed him, Kevin, and Andrew toward the center.

Moriyama extended a hand, and Kevin placed his left hand in it with visible reluctance. The coach studied the jagged scars with a cold, calculating expression.

“Butcher,” a quiet voice murmured in French.

Neil turned to see Jean standing at the edge of the chaos, his gaze sharp as he nodded toward the door. Neil didn’t need more than that. He glanced at Riko, who was already stepping away. Without hesitation, Neil followed, his steps calm and deliberate.

He didn’t look back. God help Riko, because Neil was done holding back.

Riko was methodically checking the locker room for intruders when Neil stepped through the door. He leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, watching as Riko’s meticulous search came to an end. Satisfied that they were alone, Riko gestured sharply for Neil to follow him into the adjacent room.

The front room was a stark contrast to the Foxes’ utilitarian setup. It was lavish, almost ostentatious, with matching couches arranged around the space and the Jackrabbit mascot emblazoned on decorative rugs. The walls were lined with framed photos of past glories, a testament to Blackwell’s dominance in Exy. Riko paused to glance at one of the pictures, his lips curling into a sneer before he turned to face Neil.

“Nathaniel,” Riko said, his smile as sharp and cold as the blade Neil carried. “It has been far too long.”

Neil didn’t flinch at the name. Instead, he cocked his head, his expression cold and unimpressed. “You know, Riko,” he drawled, “I didn’t think you were stupid enough to forget someone’s name. But here we are. For the last time: it’s Neil.”

Riko’s arrogance didn’t waver. “Do not lie to me again. You will not enjoy the consequences.”

Neil’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass, a perfect imitation of his father’s. “I don’t know who told you that you were important, Riko,” Neil said, his voice low and dangerous, “but you’re just a little boy pretending to play grown-up games.”

In an instant, Neil was across the room, his hand locking around Riko’s face in a crushing grip. Riko’s eyes widened as he struggled against Neil’s hold, but Neil was unyielding.

“I’ve been patient with you,” Neil hissed, his fingers tightening. “But I won’t stand here and listen to your threats or you of all people calling me liar. You’re nothing but a second son, Riko. Know your place—or I’ll show it to you.”

Neil released him abruptly, letting Riko stagger back. But he wasn’t finished. Neil drew his knife, the blade glinting under the room’s bright lights. With a swift, calculated motion, he knocked Riko to the ground, pinning him effortlessly.

Hovering over him, Neil grabbed Riko’s hand, holding it steady despite the other man’s futile attempts to pull away. “If you don’t leave my team alone,” Neil said, his tone chilling, “there will be hell to pay. And I don’t break my promises”

He dragged the blade across Riko’s hand in a deliberate, deep cut. Blood welled immediately, spilling onto the rug below. Neil held the injured hand up, forcing Riko to look at it.

“You know my father,” Neil said, his voice razor-sharp. “As much as I despise him, he gives excellent advice on how to break someone. Did you know that when I was five he showed me how to make someone’s hand completely useless? Permanently. You didn’t know? Such a shame. Just so you know if you continue to piss me off I will show you in first person how to do it. But be aware, unlike Kevin, who can still move his hand, yours would be dead weight forever. And then you will be ever more useless than before. Think of this cut as a warning.”

Riko’s expression shifted from rage to unbridled terror as he struggled in vain to kick Neil off. But Neil stood, brushing himself off as though nothing had happened. The blood continued to pour from Riko’s hand, staining the floor.

Neil’s gaze flicked to the door, where Jean stood frozen in horror. “Be a good little lapdog and take him to the nurse,” Neil said, his tone mocking. “He’ll need stitches. If anyone asks what happened, you tell them you don’t know. And get someone to clean this mess.”

Turning back to Riko, Neil’s expression darkened. “This is the last warning you’ll ever get,” he said. “And just so we’re clear—if you tell anyone about this, I will personally make sure you’re dead the next day. I may even make your brother kill you.”

Neil cleaned the blade with the hem of Jean’s jacket, ignoring the man’s shocked silence. He sheathed the knife and offered one last, venomous smile. “Goodbye, little Ravens. I hope to never see you again.”

Without another glance, Neil strode out, leaving Riko bleeding on the floor and Jean scrambling to assist him.

Neil strode back to the team with a lightness in his step that felt almost out of place after the chaos he had just left behind. His grin was sharp and unrepentant, an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He didn’t care to hide it; if anything, he seemed to revel in the moment.

Seth was the first to notice. “Why are you smiling like a fool?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Maybe this evening wasn’t so bad after all,” Neil replied, the grin widening as he settled into his spot among the Foxes.

“Okay, but what did you do?” Matt pressed, his tone both curious and wary.

Neil didn’t answer, instead shrugging nonchalantly as he leaned back against the wall, his expression making it clear that he had no intention of elaborating. Whatever he’d done was his own business, and the Ravens weren’t about to follow them out here to complain.

“Neil,” Dan warned, her voice carrying just enough of a commanding edge to imply she wouldn’t drop it easily.

Neil tilted his head toward her, his grin softening into something almost innocent. “We’re fine. Let’s go.”

The team didn’t push further, though it was clear they didn’t entirely buy his deflection. Even Andrew, leaning against the wall with his usual impassive expression, gave Neil a long, searching look. But Neil didn’t so much as flinch under his scrutiny.

With that, the Foxes gathered their things and headed to the bus. The banquet hall fell behind them, its opulence and hostility replaced by the familiar comfort of their camaraderie. As they boarded the bus, Neil dropped into his seat near the window, gazing out at the darkened streets with an air of contentment.

Whatever had happened back in the locker room, it was done. Neil wasn’t about to let it linger. The Ravens would think twice before stepping out of line again, and the Foxes could finally focus on what mattered: themselves, their game, and their season.

The bus pulled away from the banquet, leaving the night—and the chaos of Riko Moriyama—behind them.

The Foxes arrived back in Palmetto late in the night, the bus ride filled with quiet murmurs, the occasional snore, and the low hum of the engine. As they unloaded, Coach Wymack was waiting by the locker room doors, arms crossed and an annoyed frown etched on his face.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you this again,” Wymack said, his tone exasperated. “But you lot need to learn how to behave in public. You’re not just representing yourselves out there—you’re representing this team. Try to keep that in mind next time.” He rubbed his temples, then waved them off. “Go home. Get some rest. We’ve got practice in the morning.”

Neil made his way to the locker room, showered quickly, and changed into a fresh set of clothes. He grabbed a bottle of vodka from his bag, slipped his cigarettes into his pocket, and headed up to the rooftop. The crisp night air greeted him as he stepped onto the roof, his usual sanctuary from the chaos below. The stars were faint against the Palmetto sky, but they were there, scattered like distant promises.

Andrew wasn’t there yet, so Neil took a seat, lit a cigarette, and pulled out his phone. He scrolled to Stuart’s number and pressed call. When Stuart answered, Neil didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“I’ve decided,” Neil said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I’ll accept Ichiro’s proposal. I just wanted you to know.”

Stuart’s reply was measured, as usual. “You’re sure about this? There’s no turning back once you’re in.”

“I’m sure,” Neil said firmly. “But I’ll start after my fifth year. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Understood. Good luck, kid.”

Neil ended the call and immediately dialed Ichiro. When the line connected, he spoke before Ichiro could get a word in. “I’ve thought about it. I’ll take your offer, but I won’t start until after my fifth year.”

Ichiro paused, then laughed softly. “I’ll allow it. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, his voice sharp. “Keep an eye on your little brother. He’s going to drag the Moriyama through the dirt if you’re not careful. ”

Ichiro’s tone cooled. “Noted.”

Neil ended the call without waiting for a response. He leaned back, exhaling smoke into the cool night air, when he heard the faint scrape of a shoe behind him.

“You can stop pretending you’re not there,” Neil said, not bothering to turn around. “Andrew.”

Andrew appeared beside him, wordlessly sitting down and taking the bottle of vodka from Neil’s hand. He unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and lit his own cigarette. The silence stretched between them for a moment, comfortable and familiar.

Andrew finally spoke. “Who’s Ichiro? And what’s this ‘proposal’?”

Neil didn’t look at him but answered anyway. “Ichiro Moriyama. Riko’s older brother. He wants me to work for him.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Work how?”

Neil exhaled smoke, the faint glow of his cigarette highlighting the sharp lines of his face as he clarified. “Ichiro wants me to be his translator. Says I’m the only one who can handle the job.”

Andrew gave Neil a sideways glance, cigarette balanced between his fingers. “Translator? That’s it?” His tone was skeptical, but his expression didn’t change.

Neil nodded, though his tone was edged with sarcasm. “Apparently, being fluent in multiple languages and having a knack for keeping secrets makes me uniquely qualified. Not to mention the fun little footnote that I know all the Moriyama skeletons.”

Andrew snorted. “And you think he’s being honest about that? He could find a dozen translators without dragging you into it.”

Neil took another drag, his voice steady but cold. “Of course he’s not being honest. I’m sure there’s more to it. Maybe he wants someone who doesn’t flinch at the sight of blood or who knows how to deal with people like Riko. Doesn’t matter. I told him I’d do it on my terms—after my fifth year.”

Andrew considered this, the embers of his cigarette glowing brighter as he took a long drag. “So you’re jumping from one leash to another. Smart.”

Neil shot him a dry look. “I’m not planning on being anyone’s pet, Andrew. I said yes because it gives me leverage, not because I trust him.”

Andrew leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp. “Leverage only works if you’re still holding the knife. Make sure he doesn’t take it from you.”

Neil smirked, the smile more dangerous than amused. “Don’t worry. I’ve had enough practice with knives to know how to keep them close.”

Andrew didn’t respond immediately, but his silence wasn’t disapproving. Instead, he reached for the vodka bottle, taking another sip before offering it back to Neil. The unspoken understanding between them was enough to fill the quiet.

Above them, the stars glimmered faintly in the dark sky, indifferent to the plans being made below.

After a while Andrew stand up.

”Good night, Rabbit.” he told Neil, which made his blush.

“Good night.” said Neil.

Chapter Text

Neil spent the next few days deliberately immersing himself in his teammates' lives. He wasn’t used to being part of a group like this, but he knew that trust wasn’t built overnight—it was earned through moments like these.

He listened more than he spoke, piecing together fragments of their stories and histories. Renee revealed one evening, in her calm, matter-of-fact way, that her real name was Natalie. She didn’t elaborate on why she’d chosen to go by Renee, but Neil guessed it had something to do with the weight of her past.

Dan, surprisingly, admitted that she and Renee had been rivals in high school, playing on opposing Exy teams. “We weren’t exactly friends,” Dan had said with a grin, but there was no bitterness in her tone—only the camaraderie that had come with years of working together.

In quieter moments, Neil learned other tidbits. Dan wanted to coach someday after graduation, to mentor and shape future players the way Wymack had shaped her. Matt confided that his parents had divorced when he was young, and though he brushed it off like it didn’t matter, Neil could hear the lingering hurt in his voice.

The most intriguing piece of information, however, came from a tense conversation between Nicky and Aaron. Neil overheard enough to piece together that Aaron blamed Andrew for their mother’s death. It was a heavy accusation, and while Neil wanted to ask about it, he decided against prying. He didn’t know enough yet, and this wasn’t the time to stir up old wounds.

Instead, he tentatively shared his observation with Nicky later, suggesting that maybe Andrew had tried to protect Aaron in some way. Nicky dismissed the idea almost immediately. “Andrew doesn’t work like that, Neil. He’s got his way of doing things, and it’s not about being anyone’s hero.”

Neil didn’t argue. Nicky’s bias was clear, but Neil had seen a different side of Andrew—someone who did things his way, yes, but who acted with purpose. He filed the thought away for now, deciding not to push further.

One evening, as the team lingered after dinner, Nicky opened up about his past. He told Neil about being sent to a Christian gay conversion camp by his father, who’d hoped to “cure” him. “Didn’t work, obviously,” Nicky had said with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I played the part. Pretended I’d been ‘fixed.’”

It wasn’t until his senior year of high school, when he became an exchange student in Germany, that things started to change. “That’s where I met Erik,” Nicky said, his expression softening in a way Neil had never seen before. “He’s the one who showed me it was okay to be me. For the first time, I stopped hiding.”

Hearing Nicky speak about Erik made Neil realize how much love had shaped Nicky’s resilience. He might have been loud and overbearing at times, but underneath that, he was unshakable in his identity.

Neil didn’t say much in response, but he found himself silently admiring the openness that the Foxes had with one another. Their lives were messy, complicated, and raw, but they weren’t afraid to own their truths.

For someone like Neil, whose past was nothing but a maze of lies and harships, it was both unsettling and inspiring. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, this team really was something worth holding onto.

And of course, Kevin caught up with Neil the morning after the banquet. He didn’t bother with pleasantries; Kevin never did. His voice was sharp, and his eyes pinned Neil with an intensity that was almost suffocating.

“What the hell was that last night? Who are you really” Kevin demanded.

Neil sighed. He’d known this conversation was coming, but he still wasn’t entirely sure how much to share. Kevin wasn’t exactly the most discreet person, but Neil couldn’t keep avoiding the truth forever.

“Sit down,” Neil said, gesturing to the bench in the empty locker room. Kevin hesitated but did as he was told, his curiosity outweighing his impatience.

“You wanted an explanation, so here it is,” Neil began, taking a deep breath. “My name wasn’t always Neil Hartford.” He paused, searching Kevin’s face for a reaction, but Kevin just stared at him, waiting.

“My name once was Nathaniel Wesninski.”

The name landed like a grenade. Kevin’s eyes widened in shock, and he leaned back slightly, as if the revelation physically hit him. “Nathaniel” Kevin repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought you are dead. Wait your father is-”

“The Butcher,” Neil finished flatly. “Yes.”

Kevin’s face twisted in disbelief and recognition as the pieces fell into place. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. You—you don’t look the same, but the way you move, the way you think... God, Neil, I’m so stupid. You were right there.”

Neil gave a bitter smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ve spent years hiding who I was. My mother and I ran from him when I was ten. She did everything she could to keep us off his radar, but it wasn’t enough. He found us eventually.”

Kevin didn’t speak, his hands clenched into fists on his knees as Neil continued.

“He killed her,” Neil said, his voice steady but cold. “She was all I had, and she was gone. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I went to the only person I thought could help—my uncle Stuart.”

Kevin’s head snapped up at the name, recognition flashing in his eyes. “Stuart? Stuart Hartford? The one who owns—”

“The casinos, the real estate, the entire European empire,” Neil interrupted. “Yes, him. He’s not a good man, but he hated my father just as much as I did. With his help, I disappeared. He made sure I was no longer a Moriyama property, no longer anyone’s pawn. He may be a mafia boss, but he is really caring towards family. He is more of a father than Nathan ever was.”

“Riko can’t touch you?” Kevin asked, his voice barely audible.

“Not legally, not physically,” Neil confirmed. “As far as the Moriyamas are concerned, I’m a Hartford. They can’t touch me. And if they do they will start a war.”

Kevin sat in stunned silence, his mind racing to process everything Neil had said. Finally, he shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” he admitted. “We spent so much time together as kids. You were like my brother, and I didn’t see it.”

Neil shrugged. “You’re not the first person to miss the signs. Besides, I’m not that person anymore. Nathaniel Wesninski died a long time ago.”

“But you’re here,” Kevin said, a rare softness in his voice. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

For the first time in years, Neil felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. Kevin’s reaction wasn’t what he’d expected, but it was a welcome reminder that he wasn’t completely alone.

“Yeah,” Neil said, a small smile breaking through his usual guarded expression. “I’m here.”

Kevin grinned then, a genuine, boyish grin that made him look younger, like the boy Neil remembered. “It’s good to see you, Neil. Or Nathaniel. Whatever you want to be called.”

Neil chuckled softly. “It’s Neil now. Let’s leave Nathaniel where he belongs—in the past.”

Kevin nodded, the weight of the conversation still hanging between them, but for the first time in years, there was a glimmer of hope. They weren’t just teammates—they were friends, and maybe, just maybe, they could help each other heal.

October loomed large, and with it came the most anticipated game of the season: the Foxes versus the Ravens. The Foxes had defied expectations so far, with six wins and only one loss—their opening game. While they’d scraped by in some matches, their performance was leagues ahead of previous years. Still, no one thought they could topple the reigning champions, the Ravens, but everyone knew they’d put up a fight that would leave an impression.

As the game drew nearer, the atmosphere around the team began to shift. Excitement mingled with nervous energy, and the weight of the match bore down on them all.

The team tried to hold it together, but cracks were beginning to show. By Thursday, even Dan, who’d always been a pillar of strength, was struggling. It wasn’t just the pressure of the upcoming game—it was four years’ worth of abuse and relentless challenges as the Foxes’ captain. That night, she finally broke and found solace in Matt’s arms. He didn’t say a word about it, just held her as she let her walls down in the privacy of his room.

On campus, the atmosphere was electric. The Palmetto students were buzzing with anticipation, their excitement building with every passing day. For them, this was more than just a game; it was a chance to watch their underdog team challenge the titans.

Among the Foxes, only Neil and Andrew seemed unaffected. Neil’s unflappable demeanor was as steady as ever, and Andrew, true to form, appeared to be entirely disinterested in the hype. Neil spent his time fine-tuning strategies with Kevin, while Andrew simply kept an eye on things, ready to step in if needed.

Kevin, on the other hand, was a wreck. His usual self-assured presence had crumbled under the weight of his history with the Ravens. The memories of his time with them and the scars, both literal and figurative, left by Riko made it almost impossible for him to focus. No matter how many times his teammates reassured him, Kevin couldn’t shake his anxiety.

By Friday morning, Kevin’s nerves reached their peak. He went through the motions at practice, but his silence was deafening. Not a single word escaped his lips as he worked through drills with a single-minded intensity.

The team noticed, of course, but they gave him space, unsure of how to help. Neil, however, wasn’t one to leave things unresolved. As the others filed out of the court after practice, Neil hung back, waiting for the right moment to approach Kevin.

For now, though, the pressure hung heavy in the air, and everyone could feel it.

Emma knew how significant this week was, both for the Foxes and for Neil. The game against the Ravens was enough to have everyone on edge, but for Neil, there was more to the story. October 14th was a date that stood as a painful reminder of betrayal and disillusionment.

Neil insisted it didn’t matter anymore. He’d moved past it, or so he claimed. But Emma, who knew him better than most, wasn’t convinced. She could see the way he deflected when the subject came up, the way his posture stiffened at the mere mention of Henry’s name. She knew that no matter how much time had passed, the wound hadn’t fully healed.

So, on Thursday morning, Emma boarded a private plane from England to South Carolina.

The flight was long, and the jet lag hit her as she landed in the afternoon. But none of it mattered when she arrived at the Foxhole Court and found Neil. He was on his way back from practice, his bag slung over his shoulder and his usual guarded expression in place.

“Emma?” Neil blinked in surprise, stopping short as he spotted her. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” she said simply, her smile warm but steady. “Figured I’d see the famous Foxes in action again.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You didn’t fly across the Atlantic just to watch a game.”

“Maybe not,” Emma admitted. “But I did fly across the Atlantic to make sure you weren’t sulking about something you swear doesn’t bother you anymore.”

Neil sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment. “It’s been years, Emma. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Emma said, stepping closer. “And I believe that about as much as I believe you just ‘talk’ with Riko at the banquet.”

Neil huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.” Emma reached out, squeezing his arm lightly. “Now, come on. You’re buying me dinner.”

Neil rolled his eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Fine. But don’t blame me if the food’s terrible.”

The two of them walked off together, Emma chattering about her flight and Neil silently grateful for her presence. For the first time that week, he felt a little lighter, as though the weight of the upcoming game and the ghosts of October 14th weren’t quite so heavy anymore.

The Foxes’ game against the Ravens was set to take place that evening, a showdown that had been brewing for months. Palmetto’s campus was buzzing with anticipation, and the tension within the team was almost palpable. But Neil wasn’t restless because of the Ravens or Riko. He wasn’t even particularly concerned about the match itself. What loomed over him instead was the weight of October 14th, just a day away.

Neil didn’t mention it to anyone—not to Emma, who already knew, nor to Andrew, who would have called him out for being sentimental. He buried it as deep as he could, as he always did, but the unease clung to him.

He woke up early, long before the rest of the team, and slipped out of the dorms with a cigarette and his lighter in hand. The morning air was crisp, and the faint glow of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon. Neil leaned against the railing of the dormitory steps, lit his cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

The nicotine steadied his nerves, though it did little to quiet the thoughts circling his mind. October 14th wasn’t a day he liked to think about. It marked the moment he realized what a fool he’d been for trusting Henry, for thinking he could ever have something normal, something real. That chapter of his life was over, but the anniversary was a reminder of just how deeply the scars ran.

As he exhaled a plume of smoke, Neil’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a message from Emma.

Emma: You awake?

Neil: Yeah.

Emma: Come to breakfast with me. My treat.

Neil: You flew across the Atlantic; I think I owe you.

Emma: True, but I’m letting you pay for dinner tonight. Now get moving.

Neil smiled faintly, pocketed his phone, and took one last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the metal railing. He let out a long breath, squared his shoulders, and made his way back inside to get ready.

By the time he met Emma at a small cafe, the restless energy had dulled to something manageable. She greeted him with a warm smile and a cup of coffee waiting at his seat.

“You good?” Emma asked as he sat down.

Neil nodded, even if the truth was more complicated. “I will be. Thanks for coming.”

Emma studied him for a moment, her expression softening. “You know I’d be here even if it wasn’t for the game.”

“I know,” Neil said. “And I’m glad you are.”

With Emma by his side and the Foxes counting on him, Neil steeled himself for the day ahead. Tonight was about the game, about proving themselves as a team. Whatever came after—Riko, the Ravens, or the memories of October 14th—could wait until then.

It was almost time for the game. The Foxes were in the locker room. Abby was carefully checking Kevin’s left arm, making sure everything was secure. Wymack was keeping a close eye on Andrew, ensuring that he’d actually play like he wanted to win. At the same time, Wymack gave his pre-game speech, words meant to inspire and settle the nerves rippling through the team.

With the preparations done, the Foxes headed to the stadium.

The crowd’s reaction was violent. Palmetto-clad students chanted derogatory phrases and screamed hateful boos. Edgar Allan’s section roared a deafening battle cry. Fans who had traveled just to see a good match cheered for the Ravens as fiercely as they had the Foxes.

In the midst of it all, Neil spotted Emma in the crowd, cheering with all her might and shouting, “Go Foxes!”

The teams were sent on warm-up laps. Wymack ceded the inner court to the larger Raven team, leaving the Foxes to run their laps along the court walls. The Foxes moved in the opposite direction of their opponents.

Neil saw the Ravens pass as an endless line of black and red in his peripheral vision but refused to look at them. He focused instead on the orange and white jersey in front of him, determined to stay in his headspace.

The referees eventually kicked them off the court, leaving only Dan and Riko behind.

At half-court, the captains managed a civil handshake under the watchful eye of the head referee. A coin was flipped, and Edgar Allan was granted the starting serve. Dan and Riko then left the court, returning to their teams.

Wymack and Moriyama organized their starting lines near their respective doors. The Foxes’ three subs went down the line, cracking racquets with their teammates and offering tight, tense smiles.

“For the Foxes, tonight’s starting line-up,” the announcer began.

“Number two, Kevin Day.”

Kevin ignored the deafening roar from the crowd and stepped onto the court. Neil’s grip on his racquet tightened as he watched Kevin take his position.

“Number ten, Neil Hartford,” the announcer called next.

“Stay calm” Wymack reminded Neil.

Neil sighed and stepped onto the court, heading to his designated spot on the half-court line. He turned to watch as his teammates entered the court, one by one.

Neil didn’t hear Riko’s name over the din of the crowd, but he saw the Ravens’ captain stride onto the Foxhole Court as if he owned the stadium. Instead of taking his position, however, Riko stopped at Kevin’s side.

Riko removed his helmet, and although his words were drowned out by the crowd, the intent was clear. Kevin unstrapped his own helmet, hooking it over his fingers as he answered. The exchange was brief, but the tension was palpable.

Neil clenched his racquet tighter, ready to march over and remind Riko of their last encounter. He took a step forward, but Andrew intercepted him.

“Don’t,” Andrew said, his voice sharp and quiet.

Neil shot him a glare, but Andrew’s expression was impenetrable. “Focus.”

Neil exhaled heavily, stepping back into his position. Across the court, Kevin’s knuckles whitened around his racquet as Riko finally returned to his spot, a smug smirk on his face.

The referees signaled the start of the game. Neil took a deep breath, forcing his mind to clear. The time for distractions was over.

The game began.

The Ravens were undoubtedly better than the Foxes, but the Foxes held their ground surprisingly well. From the very start, the energy on the court was palpable.

Andrew guarded the goal fiercely, saving as many balls as he could. The Ravens hammered shot after shot at him, their offense relentless. By the end of the match, they had fired at least 150 balls his way. Out of those, Andrew let only 13 through—a monumental effort that left him visibly exhausted.

On offense, Neil, Kevin, and Seth worked tirelessly to break through the Ravens’ defense. Their teamwork shone like never before, and against all odds, they managed to score 9 points.

No one had expected the Foxes to perform this well. Their team play had improved significantly, and it was clear to everyone watching that they were working together like a cohesive unit for the first time in a long time.

Despite their eventual loss, it was the Foxes’ best game in the history of the team. They played as a team and lost as one, but not a single player or fan was disappointed.

On the Ravens' side, however, things were different.

Riko was fuming. His face was a mask of disbelief and fury as he stared across the court at the Foxes. The thought of such a joke of a team managing to score 9 points against his Ravens was unthinkable.

The crowd’s energy was electric, but as the players filed off the court, the Foxes held their heads high. They may not have won the game, but they had earned respect—something far more valuable in the long run.

The team gathered around Wymack near the sidelines after the game.

Despite the loss, Wymack’s face radiated pride. He looked at each of them, his expression firm but warm. “You lost, yeah,” he said, “but you lost as a team. That was the best I’ve ever seen you all play. You stuck together, you fought together, and you didn’t give up. That’s what being a Fox is all about.”

The players exchanged tired but proud looks as Wymack continued. “We’ll go over the game and your mistakes on Monday. For now, take the weekend to rest. You’ve earned it. Dismissed.”

As Wymack walked away, Dan stepped forward, drawing the team’s attention.

“This,” Dan began, her voice steady and strong, “is why I’m proud to be a Fox. Look how far we’ve come. Nobody thought we’d even hold a candle to the Ravens, and we just proved them wrong. Next time? We’re going to beat them.”

The team cheered, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the glow of camaraderie. Dan smiled at them, her confidence contagious.

Once the noise died down, Seth chimed in. “Alright, alright, now that we’ve had the motivational speech,” he said with a sly grin, “anyone up for another one of Neil’s team bonding parties?”

A ripple of laughter moved through the group, followed by a chorus of agreement.

Neil rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

After the huddle broke, Neil headed to the showers. Once he was cleaned up and changed, he went to find Emma in the stands.

She was waiting for him with a bright smile, clearly thrilled to see him. “Hey!” she greeted.

Neil smiled back. “The team’s planning another bonding party,” he told her. “You up for it?”

Emma’s smile widened. “Absolutely,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The Foxes, along with Emma, wasted no time organizing their impromptu party. The team was more lively than Neil had ever seen them, laughing and joking as the music blared in the background. Emma threw herself into the fun, showing everyone her wild side. She was like a whirlwind of energy—dancing, cheering, and keeping the mood light.

Neil couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel a fleeting sense of happiness, watching his team—the people he’d come to call family—having fun together. The atmosphere was light and carefree, the kind of energy that should’ve been enough to push all his worries away.

But then, his thoughts turned, as they inevitably did, to the date tomorrow. October 14th.

He had promised both Emma and himself that he was fine—that he’d moved past it. And yet, the pain lingered. It didn’t matter that it had been almost two years since everything had happened. The weight of it all—his father, Henry, the lies and the betrayal—still held him, deep in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something, somewhere, had been broken irreparably.

Neil knew better than to let that sadness spill out into the room. Not tonight. Not when everyone else was so full of life and energy.

With a deep breath, he excused himself from the group, offering a quick smile and a few words to Emma as she danced around with the others. Quietly, he slipped out the door and made his way to the rooftop.

There, under the dim light of the moon, Neil found solace in the quiet of the night. He retrieved a bottle from his bag—a small, familiar comfort. As he sat on the edge of the roof, watching the world below, he uncorked it and took a long drink. The burn of the alcohol soothed him for a moment, numbing the sharp edges of the memories that kept resurfacing.

He needed this.

For just tonight, he’d drown out the pain and pretend that the world wasn’t waiting for him to face it.

Andrew had been watching from the corner of the room when he noticed Neil slip away. It wasn’t like him to suddenly vanish, especially when the rest of the team was in such high spirits. Andrew kept his distance for a moment, giving Neil some space, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He waited a few minutes before quietly making his way to the door, stepping out into the cool night air. It didn’t take long to find Neil—sitting alone on the rooftop, a bottle of alcohol in hand. The quiet solitude was exactly what Neil needed, even if it was a little more than he could handle in his current state.

By the time Andrew reached him, Neil was already a little drunk, his posture slouched, eyes glazed over. The cigarette he had been holding now rested loosely in his fingers, smoke curling upward into the night sky. Andrew hesitated for only a moment before sitting down next to him.

It was a little closer than usual, but neither of them said anything, and the silence stretched between them. Neil, bleary-eyed and swaying ever so slightly, looked over at Andrew. His eyes were a little more glassy than usual, the weight of something pressing down on him more than usual.

Andrew didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t ask what was wrong. But his gaze lingered on Neil—soft but steady, full of quiet concern.

Finally, Neil broke the silence. His voice was a little slurred, but he spoke in a steady rhythm.

“Tomorrow’s October 14th,” Neil said quietly, his eyes drifting away from Andrew, gazing at the lights of the city below. “It’s... the day it all ended. The day I realized how big a fool I was.”

Andrew didn’t interrupt. He just let Neil speak, his expression unreadable.

Neil took another long drink from the bottle before continuing. His voice was thick with emotion, but there was a bitterness to it now, something sharp and raw.

“I loved him. I thought he loved me too. But... Henry, he... he wasn’t who I thought he was. I thought maybe if I loved him enough, it would work out, you know? But he was lying to me the whole time. All the promises, all the things he said...” Neil shook his head, looking almost defeated. “He betrayed me, Andrew. He used me and then threw me away. He only wanted me so he could come closer to the Hartford power and like the fool I was I let him do as he please.”

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “I was stupid, but I thought... I thought he was different. I thought I could make it work, make it mean something. But he turned out to be just like my father. Just another person who wanted to control me. Just another person who manipulated me.”

There was a long silence as Neil’s words hung in the air. The alcohol had made his thoughts spill out faster than he intended, and now that they were out, he felt... vulnerable, exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. He looked over at Andrew, his watery eyes searching for some kind of response.

Andrew didn’t speak right away. Instead, he sat there, a silent presence next to him, absorbing what Neil had said. Andrew’s jaw was clenched slightly, but his expression softened. He didn’t know all the details of Neil’s past, but hearing him speak—really speak—for the first time about his relationship with Henry made something inside of him shift. Andrew wasn’t used to seeing Neil like this, vulnerable and raw. But he wasn’t going to say anything. He wouldn’t push Neil for more than he was ready to share.

Neil continued, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know how to let go of it. It’s been two years, and I still can’t forget. I promised myself I would, but... it still hurts.”

Andrew looked at him then, really looked at him, and the concern that had been there before deepened. He wanted to say something, but the words felt foreign. Instead, he just shifted slightly closer to Neil, offering his presence as quietly as he could.

“You don’t have to forget,” Andrew said finally, his voice low but steady. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to. But just... don’t keep it all inside. You’re not alone in this, Neil.”

Neil gave him a half-smile, though it was sad and a little distant. “I know. I just... I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Weak.”

Andrew gave a small shrug, his tone matter-of-fact. “You’re not weak, Neil. You’re human.”

It was a simple response, but something about it made Neil feel like the weight of everything was a little bit easier to carry. The silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just... two people, sitting in quiet understanding.

The city lights flickered below them, and for the first time in a long while, Neil didn’t feel entirely alone.

The alcohol had taken its toll on Neil. His body swayed as he sat on the rooftop, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. His usual sharpness had dulled, and his speech slurred. Andrew had been patient, letting him speak his mind, but now it was clear that Neil was well beyond his limit.

Andrew gently nudged him. “Alright, come on. Let’s get you inside before you fall asleep out here.”

Neil barely registered the words, his legs unsteady as he tried to stand. Andrew moved to help him, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder as they began making their way to the rooftop door.

But just as Andrew was about to open it, Neil’s voice broke the silence, thick with alcohol and something more vulnerable than usual.

“Andrew,” Neil slurred, his gaze locking onto him, though it was unfocused. “If we... if we tried... to have a relationship with each other...”

Andrew paused for a moment, confused by Neil’s words. He looked down at Neil, who was swaying slightly, trying to stay upright. But there was something in his eyes that stopped Andrew from brushing it off.

Neil continued, his voice quieter now, tinged with uncertainty. “Would you promise me that you would love me for me? And that you will never use me?”

The question caught Andrew off guard. He stopped for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest as he processed what Neil had said. The thought of a relationship with Neil was... unexpected. But the pain in Neil’s voice, the raw honesty in his question—it struck a chord in Andrew. He knew what it felt like to be used. To be reduced to something less than who you were.

He thought for a moment, then answered, his voice low and steady. “I promise,” Andrew said, his words unwavering. “I’d love you for you and never use you. Just... for who you are, Neil.”

Neil’s face softened slightly, a small, relieved smile forming on his lips. “Good,” he muttered, his words trailing off as his body finally gave in to the exhaustion. The alcohol had taken its toll, and in an instant, Neil collapsed against Andrew, his eyes fluttering closed as he fell asleep, his breathing slow and steady.

Andrew stood there for a moment, holding him up, making sure Neil didn’t fall. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked down at Neil’s peaceful face, his own heart beating a little faster.

This wasn’t the conversation he had expected to have tonight. But something about it, something about the promise he’d made, settled deeply in his chest.

Gently, Andrew moved to carry Neil back inside, his mind racing with the weight of Neil’s question and his own answer.

For the first time, the idea of being with Neil didn’t seem so impossible.

Andrew carefully carried Neil through the living room, stepping lightly over empty bottles and discarded party hats. The sound of soft breathing and the occasional snore filled the room as the rest of the Foxes lay sprawled out in various states of unconsciousness. Some were passed out from alcohol, others just exhausted from the long day. It wasn’t hard to tell that the night had been a success, even if it had ended with Neil and Andrew on the rooftop.

When Andrew finally reached the couch, Emma was sitting by Neil, her eyes sharp and calculating as she watched him approach. She didn’t speak at first, just silently assessed the situation. The tension in the room was thick, but Emma didn’t flinch.

Without hesitation, she stood and took Neil from Andrew’s arms, guiding him gently onto the couch. She arranged him carefully, making sure he was comfortable before turning back to Andrew.

“Neil told me that you confessed to him,” she said, her voice even but with a certain edge to it. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. “And I think Neil told you that I approve .” She paused, allowing her words to settle between them. The room seemed to hold its breath, even the faint sounds of the party’s aftermath growing distant.

But then Emma’s voice grew colder, her tone unyielding. “But just so you know,” she continued, leaning in slightly, “if I get even one complaint about you from Neil, I will end you. And not just you. So you better be careful.” She finished with a sharpness that left no room for doubt, her words like a warning etched in steel.

Andrew stood still for a long moment, taking in her words. His face was unreadable, but the weight of her warning wasn’t lost on him. He met her gaze with a steady calmness, not intimidated but not dismissive either.

After what felt like an eternity, Andrew finally spoke. “In all of my years of life, I haven’t met a person like Neil,” he said, his voice low but firm. “He’s... different. I promise you, I will take care of him. And I don’t break my promises.”

There was a long pause as Emma studied him, her expression still hard but with something like approval flickering in her eyes. She didn’t respond immediately, but after a beat, she gave a small nod, as if satisfied by his words

“Good,” she said, her voice quieter now. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Emma glanced back at Neil, making sure he was settled before she turned her attention back to Andrew. “You’re right about one thing,” she added. “Neil is different. And he deserves someone who can handle him. Don’t mess that up.”

Andrew didn’t say anything else. He simply nodded, the promise hanging heavy in the air.

Emma sat back down beside Neil, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. It wasn’t just a threat she had made—it was a pact, a silent understanding between them. She was protective of Neil, and no one would ever get close to him without crossing her first.

Andrew knew that. And he also knew that no matter what, he had to honor the promise he had just made.

Chapter Text

Neil groaned as he blinked awake, the dim afternoon light filtering into the room doing nothing to ease the pounding in his skull. His tongue felt dry and tasted faintly of vodka, and his body protested every attempt to shift. His back ached from the lumpy couch, and the stale smell of alcohol clung stubbornly to his skin.

It was a far cry from the worst hangovers he’d had—London had seen him in far worse states—but it was still enough to make him regret every drink from the night before. Neil rubbed a hand over his face and let out a low groan.

As he shifted to sit up, something crinkled under his hand. Frowning, he looked down to see a note resting on his stomach. He picked it up, squinting at the handwriting until the words swam into focus:

Neil,

I’ve gone out for a bit. I’ll be back around 2 PM. There are painkillers in my purse by the couch if you need them. Drink some water, too. You look like death.

Emma

Neil let out a dry laugh, though it hurt his head to do so. He looked over the edge of the couch and saw Emma’s purse where she’d said it would be, resting neatly on the floor. He sighed and flopped back against the couch cushions, debating how much effort it would take to get up.

His body ached, his head throbbed, and the heavy weight of hangover-induced regret pressed down on him. But he wasn’t one to wallow—not for long, anyway. He swung his legs over the side of the couch and winced as he forced himself upright. His head protested the sudden motion, but he ignored it.

The common room was eerily quiet, the remnants of last night’s party mostly cleared away. Someone must have taken pity on the room and cleaned up while Neil had been passed out

Neil stood, swaying slightly, and reached down for Emma’s purse. He rummaged through it until his fingers closed around a small bottle of painkillers. Popping a couple into his mouth, he grabbed the water bottle Emma had thoughtfully left nearby and took a long drink. The cool water was blissful, and he made a mental note to thank her later.

But what he really needed was a shower. His clothes smelled like sweat and alcohol, and his skin felt sticky. He stretched, his back popping loudly, and shuffled toward the bathroom. Each step was a reminder of how much his body hated him right now, but a hot shower would fix most of it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

As the water poured over him, Neil let the steam and heat work their magic, easing the tension in his body and washing away the remnants of the night. By the time he stepped out, towel draped over his shoulders, he felt almost human again.

Almost.

He checked the time. It was only 1:30 PM. Emma would be back soon, and the rest of the team was probably nursing their own hangovers or lying low after the exhausting game. Neil figured he could use the time to get some food and start piecing together the details of last night.

But first, coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

Neil went to the dorm kitchen and prepared himself a strong cup of coffee. The rich aroma filled the air as he stirred the steaming liquid, his movements slower than usual due to the lingering hangover. Mug in hand, he made his way to the small window that overlooked the campus courtyard.

He opened the window slightly, letting in the crisp autumn air, and lit a cigarette. The first drag helped settle the faint buzz in his head. Neil leaned back in his chair, coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other, taking in the rare moment of peace.

As the silence settled around him, the events of the previous night started to come back to him in vivid flashes. His mood darkened as he remembered why he had gotten drunk in the first place—today’s date, October 14th. He could feel the old ache creeping in, the memories of Henry and the painful fallout that still lingered in the corners of his mind.

But the memory that made his cheeks burn the most wasn’t tied to Henry. It was the way he’d confessed everything to Andrew, raw and unfiltered. The thought of Andrew sitting there, listening to his drunken rambling, sent a fresh wave of embarrassment through him. And then there was the question—that question.

“Of all the people,” Neil muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. “It had to be Andrew.”

He exhaled heavily, a plume of smoke swirling in front of him. "I really don’t have any luck, do I?" he said bitterly, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

The campus outside was alive with movement, students coming and going, blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil. Neil tried to let the view ground him, but the memory of Andrew’s steady gaze and his calm response kept replaying in his mind.

With a sigh, Neil stubbed out his cigarette and drained the last of his coffee. He might have embarrassed himself last night, but there was no taking it back now. All he could do was face whatever awaited him.

As Neil sipped the last of his coffee, the dorm door swung open, and Emma breezed in, her energy instantly brightening the room. She was dressed casually but looked fresh and cheerful, an impressive feat considering last night’s festivities.

Neil glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “How are you in such a good mood? Shouldn’t you be hungover like the rest of us mortals?”

Emma waved off his comment with a grin. “You know me, Neil. I’m immune. Now, get up and get dressed.”

Neil blinked at her. “Why?”

“Because we’re having a spa day,” Emma declared, planting her hands on her hips. “You need it. Trust me.”

Neil groaned inwardly. Emma’s “spa days” always meant one thing: an overhaul of his appearance. It wasn’t that he minded—it could be oddly relaxing—but he knew exactly what she had in mind. If he had to guess, she’d take him for a haircut first, followed by a massage, and finally, the pièce de résistance: a manicure and pedicure.

“You’re doing this because of today, aren’t you?” Neil asked, though his tone was more resigned than accusatory.

Emma’s smile softened. “Maybe I am. But is that so bad?”

Neil couldn’t argue with that. He appreciated her efforts to distract him, even if it meant enduring her meticulous plans. He sighed and set his mug on the counter.

“Fine,” he said, standing up. “Give me ten minutes.”

Emma clapped her hands together in triumph. “Perfect. I’ll wait right here.”

As Neil headed to his room to change, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude. Emma might be relentless, but she cared in a way that made even the most painful days feel manageable. For that, he’d endure whatever she had planned. Even if it meant getting his nails done.

As expected, Neil's predictions about the spa day were spot on. The first stop was the salon, where Emma insisted on a haircut for Neil. He had to admit, his hair had been getting a bit too long, and by the time the stylist finished, he felt lighter and sharper. Emma nodded in approval as the stylist held up a mirror for him to inspect the back.

“Better?” she asked, clearly fishing for agreement.

“Yeah, better,” Neil admitted, running a hand through his shorter locks.

Next came the massage. The soothing music, dim lighting, and skilled hands of the masseuse worked wonders on Neil’s tense muscles. He hadn’t realized how much tension he was carrying until it started to melt away.

The finale was the manicure and pedicure. Neil would never admit it aloud, but having his hands and feet cleaned up felt oddly satisfying. Emma, of course, was having the time of her life, chatting with the nail technician and occasionally teasing Neil about how much he secretly enjoyed this part of the day.

By the time they left at 5:30, Neil felt like he’d undergone a complete reset. His hair was manageable again, his muscles were relaxed, and his nails looked strangely perfect.

As they stepped out into the early evening, Emma stretched her arms over her head and sighed contentedly. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Neil smirked. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be. I guess I should thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said brightly, looping her arm through his. “Now, how about some dinner? My treat.”

Neil chuckled and let her lead the way, appreciating the effort she put into making the day more bearable. For a day he’d been dreading, it hadn’t turned out half bad.

Neil and Emma found themselves at a cozy diner with outdoor seating, the kind of place that felt warm and inviting even as the chill of autumn set in. The hunger pangs in Neil's stomach were hard to ignore; he hadn’t eaten all day. They quickly picked a table outside, enjoying the crisp air as the sun began to set.

Neil lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. Emma, following suit, teased him, “You really need to eat more than just nicotine, you know.”

Before Neil could reply, his eyes caught a familiar figure heading toward an equally familiar car. Andrew. He guessed Andrew was returning from his session with Bee.

Emma noticed Neil’s shift in focus and, in true older-sister fashion, wasted no time embarrassing him. She waved at Andrew and called out, “Hey! Andrew! Come join us!”

Neil stiffened, unsure how Andrew would react, but Andrew didn’t hesitate. He glanced at Neil, silently seeking permission. Neil gave a small nod, and Andrew walked over, hands in his pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Emma greeted Andrew with her usual enthusiasm. “Good timing! We just ordered. Sit, sit!”

Andrew took a seat, his sharp gaze briefly landing on Neil before settling on Emma. “You’re unusually chipper,” he remarked dryly.

Emma only grinned in response, and soon their food arrived. Emma and Neil’s plates were laden with hearty diner fare—burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Andrew scanned the menu and, to Neil’s quiet amusement, ordered a chocolate soufflé with extra ice cream and chocolate drizzle.

Neil raised an eyebrow but said nothing, silently questioning Andrew’s choice of dessert as a meal in the middle of autumn. Still, he decided it wasn’t worth commenting on. Andrew ate what Andrew liked, no matter how unconventional it seemed.

When Andrew’s food arrived, he attacked it with the same detached precision he brought to everything. Emma chatted with both of them, skillfully steering the conversation in a way that kept things light but inclusive.

Neil, chewing on his burger, realized he was surprisingly at ease. The day hadn’t gone as he’d expected, but for the first time in a while, he felt grounded. As Andrew and Emma exchanged sarcastic quips, Neil let himself relax, the chill of October fading under the warmth of their shared meal.

After finishing their meals, the three of them lingered at the table. Emma ordered another drink, clearly in no rush to leave. Neil picked at the remnants of his fries, feeling both grateful and slightly self-conscious about Andrew’s presence. The memory of the night before still lingered, and Neil couldn’t stop the occasional flush of embarrassment from creeping up his neck.

Despite his inner turmoil, the atmosphere wasn’t awkward. Emma’s ability to fill silences with light banter kept things moving, and Andrew, to Neil’s surprise, seemed content to sit there, occasionally offering his dry, clipped observations.

Eventually, Emma pushed back her chair and stood. “I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing her bag.

Neil’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t miss the glint in her eyes or the casual way she slung her purse over her shoulder. She was leaving him alone with Andrew.

As she walked away, Neil muttered under his breath, “I’m going to kill her.”

Andrew, who was quietly sipping the last of his drink, glanced at Neil. “Your cousin is annoyingly perceptive.”

“You don’t say,” Neil replied, trying to act nonchalant even as his pulse quickened. He felt exposed under Andrew’s sharp gaze.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged. Neil fiddled with his cigarette pack, unsure what to say or how to act. He glanced toward the direction Emma had gone, silently cursing her for orchestrating this.

Andrew broke the quiet first. “You’re quieter than usual.”

Neil let out a nervous laugh. “Hungover,” he said, deflecting.

Andrew tilted his head slightly, as if he didn’t entirely buy the excuse. Still, he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying Neil with an intensity that made Neil’s heart race.

Emma’s absence stretched on, leaving Neil squirming internally. At that moment, he silently vowed to find a way to pay her back for this blatant setup.

Neil decided the silence had gone on long enough. He shifted in his seat and ventured, “So... how was your day?”

Andrew gave him a flat, unimpressed look, but he still answered. “Good. How was yours?”

“Good,” Neil replied, though his voice lacked conviction. After a moment, he sighed and admitted, “I suck at starting conversations.”

Andrew’s lips twitched slightly. “I noticed.”

Neil couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. The faint amusement in Andrew’s tone took the sting out of his words. Gathering his courage, Neil asked, “Do you want to leave?”

Andrew gave a small nod. “Sure.”

They flagged down their server, and Neil insisted on paying the bill. Andrew didn’t argue, but his quiet acceptance felt more like permission than anything else.

As they stepped outside, Andrew offered, “I’ll drive you back to the dorms.”

Neil shook his head. “I don’t want to go back yet. You can just leave me somewhere, I’ll figure it out.”

Andrew’s sharp gaze settled on Neil. “Or we could go somewhere together. I know what this day if for you”

Neil blinked at him, his mouth opening to ask how Andrew knew what today was. The realization hit him like a slap; of course, Andrew knew. He flushed slightly, his cheeks warming. “Thanks,” he murmured, genuinely appreciative.

Andrew didn’t reply, just nodded toward his car. They got in without further conversation. The quiet in the car was oddly comforting, neither of them feeling the need to fill the space with forced words. Neil gazed out the window as Andrew drove, wondering where they were going but deciding he didn’t really care. He wasn’t alone, and for today, that was enough.

Neil and Andrew found themselves at a cliff overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking; the lights of the city twinkled below like a reflection of the stars above. A gentle breeze swept across the cliff, cooling the night air. Without a word, they got out of the car and sat on the hood, the silence between them comfortable yet charged with unspoken words.

Neil looked out at the city lights for a moment before breaking the silence. "Have you been here before?"

Andrew gave a small nod, his gaze fixed ahead.

Taking a deep breath, Neil ventured awkwardly, "I… I wanted to apologize for last night. For everything I said on the rooftop. I wasn’t in a good place, and I—"

Andrew cut him off, his tone steady. "It wasn’t a bother. I didn’t mind. Besides it looked like you needed it."

The simplicity of Andrew’s words and the lack of judgment in his tone put Neil at ease. Emboldened, he decided to share the story he hadn’t told anyone in detail except Emma.

“I think I am ready to tell you the whole story about me and Henry.” Neil started, his voice quieter now. “We met at a party in London. I was still new to the whole party scene, so I just stayed awkwardly in a corner, not really knowing what to do. Then Henry came up to me. He was…” Neil hesitated, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “He was the most charismatic man I’d ever seen until that moment. He introduced himself, and we started talking. By the end of the night, we’d exchanged numbers.”

The music pulsed through the walls of the London club, a heavy bass beat that vibrated through Neil’s chest. He stood in the corner, away from the crowd, nursing a drink he didn’t really want, but was too polite to decline. He had always been more of an observer than a participant in these types of parties, not really fitting in with the wild energy around him. His sharp, blue eyes scanned the crowd, watching people laugh, dance, and flirt, all of them so comfortable in their skin while he remained an outsider, just trying to blend in.

His thoughts were interrupted when a figure stepped into his line of sight—tall, with messy dark hair that framed a strikingly handsome face. His eyes were a cool shade of blue, the kind of eyes that felt like they were seeing right through Neil, reading him. For a split second, Neil stiffened, unsure if he was being watched, but then the man’s lips curved into a smile, and he moved toward him with a casual confidence.

“Mind if I join you?” the man asked, his voice smooth and velvety, like he was used to getting what he wanted.

Neil didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if he had been particularly engaged in the conversation of the moment anyway. The man didn’t wait for a response; he simply slid into the space beside him, leaning against the wall with an ease that made Neil feel suddenly out of place.

“I’m Henry,” the man said, holding out his hand. Neil hesitated, his mind running in circles. Why was he here? What did he want? But the warmth of the handshake was welcoming, and the way Henry’s smile reached his eyes was disarming. “You look like you could use some company,” Henry added, tilting his head slightly, almost like he could read Neil’s thoughts.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Neil,” Neil muttered, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t good at small talk, especially with people like Henry—people who seemed to effortlessly navigate through social interactions.

“You’re not much of a party person, are you?” Henry observed, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Neil stiffened. He wasn’t used to people reading him so easily. “I’m just… not used to this scene,” he admitted, feeling the edges of his self-consciousness bubble to the surface.

Henry’s smile widened, and there was something almost comforting about it. “Well, you’re not alone. I’m not exactly a fan of the chaos either.” His tone was easy, friendly, and Neil found himself relaxing just a little. “But I think we can find a quieter corner. Would you like that?”

Neil hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t like he was having a great time alone, but there was something about Henry that seemed too smooth, too practiced. Was he just trying to be nice? Or did he have an agenda? Despite the uncertainty creeping into his thoughts, he found himself nodding. “Sure.”

As they made their way to a quieter part of the venue, Henry’s conversation flowed easily. He spoke with confidence, but there was something unassuming about him too, as though he didn’t care about the facade he was projecting. The more they talked, the easier it became for Neil to let his guard down. They exchanged stories about their lives—Henry talking about the parties he had attended, the people he had met, while Neil spoke about his experiences, though with a reluctance he couldn’t quite shake. And in that moment, something clicked between them.

It wasn’t long before Henry leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to something more intimate. “I have to say, Neil, I’m really glad I ran into you tonight.”

Neil blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

Henry’s gaze softened, the playful edge gone, replaced with something far more intense. “I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re… different.” He smiled again, but this time it wasn’t playful—it was searching. “And I like that.”

Neil felt his heart skip a beat. For the first time in a long time, someone had shown interest in him without any pretense, without the usual expectations. Henry was unlike anyone he had met, and it felt… good. Maybe this was what he had been missing. A real connection, not based on family or status, but something simple and human. Henry was interested in him. That was all.

Before Neil could respond, Henry added, “How about we make this more official? You and me?” His voice was soft now, sincere, and the words carried an almost seductive pull to them.

Neil’s heart pounded in his chest, his mouth suddenly dry. Was this really happening? Was Henry asking him out? The thought was intoxicating, thrilling even. Despite the gnawing voice in the back of his head telling him to slow down, to think it through, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah,” Neil said, almost breathless, “I think I’d like that.”

And with that, Henry’s smile returned, bright and all-encompassing, as he leaned in closer. “Good,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing Neil’s ear. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

Neil didn’t know it yet, but that moment would change everything.

Andrew stayed silent, his attention fully on Neil.

“For the next month, we texted all the time, went out together—it felt natural. One night, while we were hanging out at the Hartford mansion in my room, Henry told me he liked me. And I liked him too, so when he asked me out… of course, I said yes. It felt perfect.” Neil laughed bitterly. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

The night had grown still, the only sounds the distant hum of city life outside and the soft rustle of the curtains as a breeze swept through the room. Neil sat at the desk in his room, mindlessly flipping through the pages of a book, his thoughts far from the text. He couldn’t focus—he hadn’t been able to focus on anything for the past few days.

There was something different about Henry lately. The constant attention, the sweet words, the closeness—they had all become too familiar, too comfortable. And yet, Neil couldn’t help but feel a shift. He couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but there was a tension between them now, something that hovered just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

As Neil stared at the pages before him, the door to his room creaked open, and Henry stepped inside. He was wearing his usual effortless charm—a tailored shirt and dark trousers, his hair neatly styled, though his eyes betrayed something softer.

“Hey,” Henry said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Neil looked up from the book, startled by the sudden appearance. “Oh, hey,” he replied, setting the book aside, sensing the shift in Henry’s demeanor.

Henry didn’t immediately sit down. He stood by the door for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his fingers tracing the edge of the doorframe. “I, uh… wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, his tone quieter than usual.

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Sure, what’s up?”

Henry hesitated, taking a few steps into the room. He seemed different tonight—less confident, as if something was weighing on him. “It’s about us. About… what we’ve been doing,” he began, his gaze locked on the floor, avoiding Neil’s eyes for the first time since they had met.

Neil frowned. He had no idea what Henry was getting at, but he could sense the tension in the air. “What do you mean?”

Henry swallowed, his jaw clenching slightly. When he finally looked up at Neil, his gaze was intense, serious. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel something. I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to keep things light, but… I can’t.” He took a deep breath, stepping closer to Neil, his hands shifting nervously at his sides.

Neil’s heart rate picked up, and he couldn’t quite tell why. There was something in Henry’s eyes now—something that made him nervous, made his skin prickle with unease. He opened his mouth to say something, but Henry didn’t give him the chance.

“I like you, Neil,” Henry said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I think I’ve liked you for a while, but I didn’t want to complicate things. I didn’t want to make you think… I don’t know. I just didn’t want to screw this up.”

The silence hung thick between them, neither one speaking as Henry’s confession echoed in Neil’s mind. His heart pounded, unsure of how to process the words that had just spilled out of Henry's mouth.

“I like you, Neil,” Henry repeated softly, his gaze steady and warm. “More than just a friend. I... I care about you.”

Neil could feel his pulse racing, the weight of the words heavy in his chest. He had never really allowed himself to feel this way about someone, but he couldn’t ignore the pull Henry had on him—the way his presence seemed to fill the room, and how the world outside seemed to blur when they were together.

Henry’s breath hitched, and for the first time, Neil saw a vulnerability in his eyes that made him pause. It was as if Henry was standing there, waiting for Neil to reject him, but not knowing what to do if the answer wasn’t what he wanted.

Neil shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. He had never been good at opening up, at letting people get close, but there was something about Henry that made him want to take a risk. He could feel his stomach twist with uncertainty, but there was a part of him, buried deep down, that wanted this. He wanted Henry to mean it.

“Why me?” Neil asked, his voice rough with emotion. “Why would you want someone like me?”

Henry didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving Neil’s. There was no doubt in his expression, no hesitation.

“Because you’re you, Neil,” Henry said, his voice quiet but steady. “You don’t have to be anyone else. You’re strong, smart, and... I like the way you think. The way you see the world. You don’t hide who you are, even when it’s hard. That’s what makes me care about you. I don’t want to change you. I just want to be with you.”

Neil swallowed hard, feeling something inside him shift. He didn’t have to be afraid. He didn’t have to hide or pretend. For the first time in a long time, Neil allowed himself to accept someone else’s affection without immediately shutting it out.

His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke, his words trembling with a mix of fear and longing. “I feel the same way, Henry. I’ve... I’ve never let myself feel this way about someone. But I... I think I want to. I want to try. I just... I don’t know what this means.”

Henry smiled softly, a warm, understanding expression. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now, Neil. We can just be. Whatever happens, we’ll take it slow. But I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

Neil met his gaze, feeling the honesty and sincerity in Henry’s words. His heart settled into something warmer than the cold he had carried for so long. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, maybe it wasn’t everything, but it was real. And for once, that was enough.

Neil nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Let’s just... see where this goes.”

Henry’s expression brightened, and before Neil could second-guess himself, Henry’s hand reached out, gently brushing against his. Neil didn’t pull away. He let the moment settle between them, as they stood there, the world outside fading into the background.

And for the first time, Neil allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t broken. Maybe there was something good waiting for him in the future. Maybe he deserved to feel this way.

Neil continued, recounting the next three months of their relationship. “Those months were like a dream. We went on dates, spent so much time together. It was like… I’d found someone who really saw me, you know? But then, things started to change. He acted suspicious—still affectionate, but it wasn’t the same. And then, one day…” Neil’s voice cracked slightly, but he pushed on.

Stuart had always been cautious, always aware of the shifting tides in the world of the mafia. He noticed things that others didn’t. The way Henry seemed to disappear at odd times, the subtle hints that something was amiss whenever Henry was around the family. It wasn’t much, just small, nagging details that didn’t sit right with Stuart.

One evening, after watching Henry leave the mansion for what seemed like the fifth time that week, Stuart called one of his most trusted men, Callum, into his office.

"Callum, I need you to do something for me," Stuart said, his voice low, his eyes sharp. "I want you to keep an eye on Henry. I don’t trust him. Not yet."

Callum raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s playing you?”

Stuart's gaze hardened. "I don’t know, but something’s off. He’s too perfect, too eager to please. It’s just a feeling, but I want to be sure."

Callum nodded, already understanding the weight of Stuart’s words. "I’ll keep an eye on him, boss. You’ll have answers soon."

A few days later, Neil was in his room, reading over some assignments, trying to keep his mind occupied when he heard a knock at the door. It was Stuart.

"Neil, I need to talk to you," Stuart said, his voice unusually tense. Neil looked up, concern flickering in his eyes. Stuart rarely came to him directly unless it was serious.

"Of course, what’s going on?" Neil asked, setting his papers aside.

Stuart stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I need you to hear me out, Neil."

Neil hesitated but did as he was told, the seriousness of Stuart’s tone gnawing at his nerves. "What’s happening?"

"Neil, I don’t know how to say this, but I’ve been keeping tabs on Henry. And I’ve learned something that I wasn’t expecting."

Neil frowned, confusion etching his features. "What are you talking about?"

Stuart took a deep breath, his expression guarded. “Henry’s not who he says he is. He’s a spy, Neil. He’s been sent here by a rival family—one that’s been trying to get to me. He’s been using you to get close to me, to gain information about the Hatford family’s operations.”

Neil froze, his blood running cold. “No. That’s—no, you’re wrong. Henry wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

Stuart’s voice softened, but it remained firm. “I had Callum investigate him. He’s been lying to you. Everything he told you, everything he made you believe, it was all part of the plan. He was using you to get to me.”

Neil shook his head, his thoughts spiraling out of control. "No, this doesn’t make sense. I—I know Henry. He cares about me. He told me he—"

“Neil,” Stuart interrupted, his tone gentle but unyielding, “I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t have proof. I don’t want you to be hurt, but you need to know the truth. Henry’s been playing a long game, and you’ve been a pawn in it.”

Neil stood abruptly, his chest tight with disbelief. “You’re lying-I mean that’s not possible alright. It can’t be possible. It-"

“Neil, stop!” Stuart’s voice was sharp now, his hands coming up to hold Neil’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to see you hurt. I’m telling you this because I care about you. Henry isn’t what you think he is.”

Tears threatened to well in Neil’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wanted to believe Stuart. Wanted to believe that he was protecting him, but everything inside him screamed that it couldn’t be true.

“You’re wrong,” Neil whispered, his voice breaking. “The first person that I have trusted outside Emma and you can’t be a liar. I-I am not that stupid!”

Stuart’s eyes softened, but the resolve was still there. “I’m sorry, Neil. I wish I was wrong. But I’m not. I want to help you, but you have to see this for what it is.”

Neil felt like the ground was slipping beneath him, everything he had built up with Henry—everything they had shared—shattered in an instant. His mind raced, but he couldn’t bring himself to understand it. How could Henry lie to him like that? How could everything he had felt be nothing more than manipulation?

“I don’t believe you,” Neil said, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I won’t believe you. I need to see it for myself.”

Stuart nodded, his expression full of regret. “I get it. I’m sorry, Neil. But be careful. He’s not who you think he is.”

Neil didn’t know how long he sat there after Stuart left, but when the door closed behind him, the silence that followed was deafening. He felt like he was suffocating, trapped in a web of lies and deceit that he couldn’t untangle. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have seen the signs?

He wanted to believe in Henry. Wanted to believe that what they shared wasn’t a lie. But the evidence was there, staring him in the face. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Still, he refused to accept it. Not yet. He needed to confront Henry himself, to hear the truth from him, before he could make a decision.

But deep down, Neil knew. He knew that everything had changed, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever trust again.

The truth was out there, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, Neil couldn’t outrun it.

“Stuart found out the truth. Henry was a spy. He’d been using me to get to Stuart, to gather information for a rival family. Stuart forced Henry to confess everything to me. Every single detail. How he never loved me, how I was just a naive kid to him, how all of it was just to gain leverage over the Hartford name. I… I was crushed. Completely.”

The atmosphere in the mansion was tense, suffocating, as Neil stood at the doorway of the dimly lit room. His eyes were trained on Henry, who was shackled to a chair in the center of the room, his face bruised, his posture defiant. Henry didn’t look like the same man Neil had fallen for. He didn’t look like the charming, kind-hearted person who had made him laugh and feel safe.

Stuart stood beside him, silent and cold, his presence a constant reminder of the betrayal Neil was about to witness.

"Henry," Stuart said, his voice low but unwavering, "you’ve been lying to us all along. And now, it’s time for you to come clean."

Henry, however, didn’t seem to be rattled. His lip curled into a sneer as he lifted his head, locking eyes with Stuart. "Go to hell." he spat, his voice bitter.

Neil’s heart pounded in his chest, but he stayed silent, forcing himself to breathe. His stomach twisted into knots as he waited for the confession he never wanted to hear.

"Tell him," Stuart pressed, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Tell him everything you’ve done."

Henry’s gaze flickered to Neil and his expression darkened, and his voice grew colder.

"You think I cared about you?" Henry laughed bitterly, his eyes now locking with Neil’s, as if daring him to understand. "I never gave a damn about you. All I wanted was to get close to Stuart. You were just a convenient way to get in, to play the part of the perfect boyfriend while I dug my way deeper into this family. You were just a fool. I used you. I used you for information. For leverage."

Neil’s body went numb. Every word felt like a knife to his chest, but the pain didn’t compare to the crushing weight of his own disbelief. His eyes stayed locked on Henry’s as the words sunk in, the pieces falling into place.

"But you said..." Neil began, his voice trembling, "You said you loved me. You promised me you loved me."

Henry’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Love?" he scoffed. "I never loved you. You were just a means to an end. Do you really think I would have ever fallen for a naive little boy like you?"

Neil's throat constricted, and tears welled in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to blink them away. He wanted to scream, to yell at Henry, but all he could do was stand there, helpless.

"Why?" he whispered, barely able to breathe the word. "Why did you have to lie? Why did you make me believe you—"

"Because it was easy to do so." Henry interrupted, his voice cold and indifferent.

Neil staggered backward, the world spinning around him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but his chest felt hollow, like all the life had been sucked out of him. He was such a fool to think anyone could love him.

Stuart stepped forward, his gaze cold and unwavering. "I think we’re done here," he said, his voice final. He turned to Neil. "You don’t need to hear anything else."

As Stuart turned to leave, Neil didn’t even know how to respond. He couldn’t think. His mind was a blur. He only knew that the man he had loved, the one he had trusted, had just shattered everything he’d believed.

Neil stumbled out of the room, his vision blurring, the weight of what he had just learned crashing over him. His knees buckled as he stepped into the hallway, and he reached out for the nearest wall to steady himself.

He heard Henry’s laughter echoing behind him, cruel and cold, but he couldn’t stop. His legs were shaking, his body trembling, as he ran, not knowing where he was going, only knowing that he needed to escape.

Neil didn’t stop until he reached his room. He slammed the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, sobbing uncontrollably, his heart shattered beyond repair. His breath came in gasps as the tears poured down his face, and the reality of it all slowly crushed him.

What did I tell you? his mother’s voice rang in his ears. Don’t get attached. You should’ve known better.

It was like she had been right all along. He had been a fool. A fool for believing Henry’s lies, for letting his guard down when he knew better. For letting himself feel.

He clutched the pillow tightly to his chest, as if trying to hold together the pieces of his heart, but it was useless. The damage had been done. The person he thought he loved had never cared for him at all.

The silence of the room felt suffocating, but the weight of his broken heart was heavier than any sound could ever be. Neil couldn’t stop crying. The pain was unbearable. The betrayal was so deep, he didn’t know how to survive it.

His mother  had warned him. She had warned him that love wasn’t real, that it was just a weapon people used to hurt others.

And now, Neil understood.

Love was nothing but a trap, and he had fallen straight into it.

Andrew’s face remained impassive, but his silence felt grounding, like a steady anchor keeping Neil from drifting too far into his painful memories.

“I shut down after that,” Neil admitted. “For two months, I didn’t leave my room. I stopped eating. I drank, got high—anything to numb myself. I was falling apart, and Stuart and Emma didn’t know what to do. One night, around my birthday, while they were out, I tried to…” Neil hesitated, his voice faltering. “I tried to end it. Took a bunch of sleeping pills, got into the bathtub, and just… waited. But Callum, found me in time. He saved me.”

Callum had been left to watch over Neil for the evening. He was about to bring Neil his dinner when he noticed Neil's door was ajar. The room was empty. A twinge of unease crept into Callum’s chest as he called out for Neil, his voice calm but firm.

"Neil?" he called, walking into the room. No response.

His concern deepened as he stepped further into the room, scanning the empty space. Neil’s bed was untouched. He called again, louder this time.

"Neil?"

Still, no answer.

A chill ran through Callum, and without hesitation, he made his way to the bathroom. The door was shut, the light dimmed from under the crack at the bottom. He knocked softly, then called once more, his voice full of concern.

"Neil, you in there?"

Silence.

Callum knocked again, a little harder this time. No response. His heart began to pound, a creeping dread making his stomach tighten. He tried the door handle, but it was locked. Panic began to set in, and he immediately turned to leave, intent on getting a key to the bathroom.

As he passed by the nightstand, something caught his eye. The bottle of sleeping pills that had been on the table earlier was now completely empty, the cap off, and scattered pills across the surface. His heart skipped a beat as the terrifying realization hit him.

The panic gnawed at him as he reached the bathroom door again. It was still locked.

His mind was a blur of fear and urgency. Without another thought, Callum took a deep breath and kicked the door with all his strength. The wood splintered with a loud crack, and the door burst open.

He stepped inside, his heart in his throat.

Neil was slumped in the bathtub, motionless. The water around him was still, and his body seemed unnaturally limp. Callum’s breath hitched, and he rushed to his side. He got Neils body from under the water and put him on the rug next to the bathtub, kneeling down beside him.

"Neil!" Callum shouted, trying to rouse him, but there was no response.

His hand trembled as he checked for a pulse, panic surging through him. After what felt like an eternity, he finally felt the faintest thrum beneath his fingers. He exhaled in relief but didn’t let up.

Callum quickly grabbed his phone and dialed for an ambulance, speaking urgently into the receiver.

"Yes, I need an ambulance immediately. A young man, unconscious, possible overdose. Please hurry."

As the operator reassured him that help was on the way, Callum stayed at Neil's side, his fingers still pressed to Neil’s wrist, checking the weak pulse. He was shaking now, barely holding himself together. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and for the first time, Callum allowed himself to feel the weight of what was happening.

He gently lifted Neil’s head, cradling it against his chest. "Stay with me, Neil," Callum muttered under his breath. "Please stay with me."

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the sound of sirens pierced the air. Callum didn’t let go of Neil, not for a second, until the paramedics arrived and began to take over.

He stepped back, still watching Neil closely. But he knew that the worst wasn’t over yet. Neil was strong—he had to be.

Neil exhaled shakily, his voice quieter now. “Stuart was heartbroken when he found out. He hired so many therapists to help me, but none of them worked. It was Emma who pulled me out of it. She never gave up on me. She stayed by my side, made me smile again. She was patient, even when I wasn’t. By the time my birthday rolled around, I wasn’t okay, but… I was better.”

Stuart was in the middle of a high-stakes meeting, his attention fixed on a financial report, when his phone rang. The name on the screen sent a jolt of alarm through him—Callum.

Excusing himself from the table, Stuart stepped into the hallway, his heart already pounding in his chest. "Callum, what's going on?"

"Stuart," Callum’s voice came through sharply, filled with urgency. "It’s Neil. He’s in the hospital."

Stuart’s world seemed to freeze. "What? What happened?" His voice was low, steady, but his insides were in turmoil.

Callum paused for a moment, his voice strained. "We’ll talk when you get here. Just… come to the hospital. Now."

Stuart’s stomach tightened. "Where is he?" he demanded, already moving toward the exit.

Callum gave him the location. "I’ll meet you there," he said before hanging up.

Stuart’s mind raced as he left the building, his car doors slamming shut with a force that mirrored his panic. Neil—his nephew who was more like a son to him—was in the hospital. Was it an accident? Was he hurt? The thoughts were a blur as he drove faster than he should have, cutting through the traffic like a man possessed.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. He had been so busy, so focused on everything else. Had he missed something?

When he arrived at the hospital, Callum was already waiting outside the emergency room. His face was pale, the worry evident in his features. The moment Stuart saw him, his gut twisted.

"What happened?" Stuart asked, his voice sharp, his concern overflowing. "Why is Neil in there? What’s going on?"

Callum swallowed, his expression clouded with hesitation. "Stuart… Neil tried to end it. He overdosed on sleeping pills and tried to drown himself."

Stuart’s body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat. "What?" His voice cracked, disbelief flooding his system. "No, no—Why?"

Callum ran a hand through his hair. "I don’t know, but when I found him, the pill bottle was empty. I called for help immediately. He’s in critical condition, but they’re doing everything they can."

Stuart had known that Neil was devastated after finding out about Henry, the betrayal that had shattered him. Henry had been using Neil to get to Stuart’s power, and Neil, trusting and open, had been blindsided by it. The breakup had been hard on Neil, but Stuart hadn't realized just how deeply it had affected him.

Callum put a hand on Stuart’s shoulder, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. "He needs you, Stuart. He’s going to need all of us, but especially you."

Stuart took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I should have known. I should have been there for him," he muttered, guilt heavy in his voice.

"You’re here now," Callum reassured him, "and that’s what matters."

The door to the emergency room opened, and a nurse appeared, her expression grim. Stuart's heart raced as he rushed forward. "How is he?" he asked urgently.

The nurse hesitated for a moment, her eyes glancing between Stuart and Callum. "He’s stable for now. He’s been through a lot, though. We don’t know what the long-term effects will be yet. We’re monitoring him closely."

Stuart nodded, his chest tightening at the sight of the nurse. He could barely process the words. His son was fighting for his life—because of a lie, because of someone he had trusted.

Stuart’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “I should have known,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “I failed him.”

Callum placed a hand on his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Stuart stood still for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind. “I don’t know if he’ll ever be the same after this.”

Callum shook his head. “No, he won’t. But he doesn’t need to be the same. He needs you, and he needs to know he’s not alone.”

Stuart nodded slowly, a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Neil finished his story, the words heavy in the quiet night air. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, unable to meet Andrew’s eyes. The pain from the past lingered, an open wound that would never fully heal, and for a while, neither of them said anything.

Andrew sat beside him, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t sure what to say—there were so many words that could come, but none of them felt right. So, he sat in silence, waiting for the right moment, or perhaps waiting for the words to come to him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but filled with an undeniable edge of anger. “You didn’t deserve that, Neil. None of it. Henry was a piece of shit, and people like him… bastards like him, they don’t deserve to live.”

Neil's throat tightened at Andrew’s words. The words were raw, unfiltered, and somehow comforting. Neil was relieved that Andrew didn’t look at him any different than before.

“Thank you,” Neil whispered, his voice barely audible. He turned to look at Andrew, and despite the weight of everything, he felt a flicker of warmth in his chest.

Andrew met his gaze and nodded. He didn’t need to say anything more; the support was there in his eyes, in the way he’d taken Neil’s pain and shared it with him, even if it was just for a moment.

Then Neil cleared his throat, and his voice was softer now, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t let himself be in years. “I remember what I asked you yesterday… when I was drunk. And I remember your promise.”

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what Neil was about to say, and he felt his own breath catch in his throat.

Neil hesitated for a moment, but then he let the question slip out, his words quiet but full of hope. “Andrew… would you want to try dating me? I know it’s stupid, after everything with Henry, but—”

Andrew didn’t let him finish. He turned his body toward Neil, his hand reaching for Neil’s arm, gently squeezing it. His voice was steady, unwavering. “You’re not stupid, Neil. You’re not an idiot. You deserve to be loved. And if you want to try… I’ll be here. I’ll be with you.”

Neil’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in Andrew’s voice. A part of him had been terrified to even ask, to open up again after everything he’d been through. But Andrew’s words were like a lifeline, pulling him from the dark corners of his mind where self-doubt lingered.

“I want to,” Neil said, his voice small but resolute.

Andrew leaned in a little closer, pausing just inches from Neil’s lips. He searched Neil’s eyes, as if making sure Neil was certain. “Can I kiss you?” Andrew asked softly, his voice carrying a quiet reverence. “Is it okay?”

Neil’s heart skipped a beat. He nodded, barely able to breathe as his nerves tightened. “Yes.”

And then, Andrew kissed him.

It was soft, careful, a moment of gentleness. Andrew's lips brushed against Neil’s in a tender, hesitant kiss. It was everything Neil had longed for but had been too afraid to admit. When they pulled apart, Andrew’s gaze was filled with something deeper, something far beyond mere attraction.

“Can I kiss you again?” Andrew asked, his voice low, unsure but hopeful.

“Yes,” Neil whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

The second kiss was more certain, deeper. There was no hesitation now—just a quiet promise. And when they pulled away, Neil felt something stir inside him, something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

Neil shifted closer, his body leaning into Andrew’s. He glanced up, searching Andrew’s eyes, asking for permission in the only way he knew how. “Can I… rest my head on your shoulder?”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. He gently guided Neil’s head to his shoulder, the contact so natural it felt like they had been doing this forever.

“Of course” Andrew said quietly, his hand moving to rest on Neil’s back, a quiet gesture of comfort and protection.

And for the first time in a long time, Neil felt at peace.

It was almost 10:30 PM by the time Andrew and Neil decided it was time to leave the cliffside. They had been sitting there for what felt like hours, talking about everything and nothing, letting the night air and the city lights fill the space between them. It had been quiet, comfortable, like they had known each other for much longer than they actually had.

Andrew started the car, the engine humming to life as they made their way back to the dorms. The drive was smooth, the streets still bustling with the energy of the city. Neither of them said much on the way back; the events of the evening felt heavy and important, and neither of them wanted to break the peaceful silence that had settled between them.

When they reached the dorms, Andrew parked the car, and they exchanged a quiet goodbye. Neil felt a pang of reluctance as he stepped out, not wanting to part from Andrew just yet. But they both knew it was time.

“Goodnight, Neil,” Andrew said, his voice soft but steady.

“Goodnight,” Neil replied, offering him a small smile before walking toward the building.

As Neil entered the dorm, he was met with the sound of Matt and Seth playing video games in the common room. He greeted them, a faint smile still lingering on his face, but he didn’t stick around. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, and needed some time to decompress.

“Hey, Neil!” Seth called out from the couch, but Neil just waved and walked past them, heading straight for the bathroom. He had to take a shower.

The warm water from the shower washed over him, the heat relaxing his muscles and helping him shake off the remaining tension. It felt good—like he could finally breathe a little easier. When he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, checking the time. It was just past 11 PM. Without hesitation, he dialed Emma’s number.

“Hey, Em,” he said when she answered. “Where are you?”

“I’m at my hotel room,” she replied, sounding like she was in a good mood. “What’s up?”

“I’m kind of in the mood for a sleepover,” Neil said, letting out a small laugh. “Could you come pick me up?”

“Of course!” Emma replied immediately. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Wait for me downstairs.”

“Okay,” Neil said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

True to her word, Emma arrived 10 minutes later. Neil met her outside, and together they drove to her hotel. The five-star hotel wasn’t far from the dorms, and soon they were inside her luxurious suite. Neil sank onto the plush sofa, immediately feeling the comfort of being around Emma, someone who always knew how to make him feel at home.

The two of them settled in with some snacks and drinks, chatting about the day’s events. After a few minutes of casual conversation, Neil took a deep breath. He had been meaning to tell Emma this all evening, and now, in the safety of her company, he finally had the courage.

“So,” Neil started, his voice a little quieter than usual, “there’s something I want to tell you.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, her attention immediately focused on him. “What’s up?”

Neil paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say it. “I… I’m with Andrew now,” he said finally, his voice almost tentative. “Like, together. As a couple.”

Emma’s eyes lit up, a huge grin breaking across her face. “I knew it,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Fucking finally. I have been waiting for this since you told me you confess to each other..”

Neil smiled, feeling a mix of relief and happiness. He hadn’t expected Emma to be so enthusiastic, but then again, she always had his back. “Yeah, it kind of just… happened today,” he said, laughing a little. “I was drunk last night, and I told him about my past and asked him if he could love me for me, not for who I’m related to. And then today, I asked him if he wanted to try being together. And he said yes. So… here we are.”

Emma beamed at him, obviously thrilled by the news. “Neil, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you two! You deserve this. You deserve to be happy.”

Neil looked at her, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, Em. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Emma playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You would survive just fine. But seriously, I’m glad you’re happy. Andrew’s a good guy. I know he’ll treat you right.”

Neil’s heart warmed at her words, grateful for her unwavering support. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I think he’s going to be good for me.”

“So, when’s the next date?” Emma asked with a sly grin.

Neil chuckled, feeling the tension of the day finally ease. “I don’t know yet. But just so you know I will get back at you what happened today.”

Emma gave him a mock glare. “I give you a date with a hot guy and this is how you repay me. I am hurt!”

Neil laughed, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. He realized that, for the first time in ages, things were looking up. There were still challenges ahead, but he felt like he wasn’t alone anymore. He had Andrew, and he had Emma—two people who cared about him. And that, for once, felt like enough.

Chapter Text

The day after Emma and Neil’s sleepover, she packed her bags and returned to London. They had hugged tightly at the airport, Emma reminding Neil to call her if he ever needed anything. Watching her plane take off left a pang in Neil’s chest, but he was also comforted by the steady rhythm of his budding relationship with Andrew.

Things were… good. Better than Neil expected. There were still some awkward moments—navigating a romantic relationship after years of keeping everyone at arm’s length wasn’t exactly his forte—but Andrew’s patience and understanding made it easier. Their relationship wasn’t a secret, but neither of them was keen on public displays of affection, so the team hadn’t caught on yet.

As October crept toward Halloween, Eden’s Twilight began advertising its annual Halloween party, promising free entry and a first round on the house for anyone in costume. Nicky, of course, had latched onto the idea like a dog with a bone and roped everyone into finding costumes.

Which was how Neil found himself at the mall with Andrew’s group.

Nicky darted from one costume rack to the next, rummaging through the most ridiculous outfits with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. His loud exclamations about options like “Sexy Pirate” or “Zombie Cheerleader” drew stares from other shoppers, but Nicky didn’t seem to care.

Meanwhile, Aaron lurked at the edge of their group, pretending not to know them and occasionally muttering about how this was all a waste of time. Kevin, predictably, was preoccupied with his phone, mumbling something about Exy drills he wanted to run after they left.

Andrew and Neil, on the other hand, hung back from the chaos. They were sitting on a bench near the costume store entrance, mostly silent but perfectly comfortable in each other’s company. Neil wasn’t thrilled about the costume hunt, but Nicky’s promise of a free first round at Eden had convinced him.

“I don’t get why I have to wear something ridiculous to get free drinks,” Neil grumbled, eyeing Nicky’s frantic search through the racks.

Andrew glanced at him, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Because Nicky’s an idiot, and you’re too cheap to turn down free alcohol.”

Neil huffed a laugh, nudging Andrew’s shoulder lightly. “Please no one refuse a free drink.”

“Neil!” Nicky called from across the store, holding up a shiny orange jumpsuit with what looked like an inflatable rocket pack attached. “Astronaut! It’s perfect for you!”

Neil groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why do I let him drag me into these things?”

Andrew smirked faintly, his eyes flicking to Nicky. “Because you don’t know how to say no yet.”

By the time they left the mall, Neil was exhausted but admittedly a little amused by the whole ordeal. He’d never celebrated Halloween before, but with this group, he had a feeling it would be memorable.

As they piled into the car and headed back to campus, Neil leaned against the window, sneaking a glance at Andrew. Andrew caught him looking and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. Neil just smiled, feeling oddly content despite himself.

The car hummed quietly as they sped down the road, Nicky rambling on about all the costumes he’d seen and discarded, his energy infectious. Neil leaned back in his seat, glancing at Andrew in the driver’s seat, his calm and detached demeanor a stark contrast to Nicky’s exuberance.

“Hey, Andrew,” Neil began, keeping his tone casual but his gaze steady. Andrew’s eyes flicked toward him for a brief moment before returning to the road.

“What?”

“Would you consider letting the rest of the team join the party at Eden? You know, for team bonding or whatever.”

Before Andrew could answer, Nicky cut in with a dramatic gasp. “Oh my God, yes! That’s a fantastic idea, Neil, but good luck. Andrew letting a crowd of Foxes invade his space? Not a chance.”

Neil turned to Andrew, his expression softening into something pleading—subtle but effective. Puppy eyes weren’t a tactic Neil often employed, but he figured it was worth a shot now. He tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes fixed on Andrew, silently waiting for an answer.

Andrew glanced at Neil again, his lips pressed into a thin line. His silence stretched, and Nicky groaned.

“See? I told you, Neil—”

“Fine,” Andrew said flatly, cutting Nicky off.

Neil’s eyes widened in surprise, a genuine smile breaking across his face. “Really?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Andrew replied, his tone as indifferent as ever.

Nicky stared at Andrew like he’d grown a second head. “Wait. What? You actually agreed? That fast?!”

Neil chuckled, his excitement bubbling over as he let out a small cheer. “Thanks, Andrew!”

Nicky joined in the cheering, though his shock lingered. “I don’t know what’s more surprising—Neil convincing Andrew or Andrew agreeing without a fight. I need a drink to process this!”

Kevin, seated in the back seat with his usual stoic expression, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “That was... too easy. What’s your angle, Andrew?”

Andrew didn’t even glance back at him. “Shut up, Kevin.”

Neil’s laughter filled the car, the sound light and easy. Andrew’s agreement might have been unexpected, but Neil didn’t question it. If Andrew was willing to extend this small gesture to the rest of the team, Neil wasn’t about to push his luck.

The group fell back into their usual banter, though Neil couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment as they drove toward what promised to be a very interesting Halloween night.

The group arrived at the dorms and parted ways. Neil went to his room to change. When he changed he decide to got in the common room.

Neil leaned against the wall near the open window, cigarette in hand, ready to enjoy the crisp air. Just as he was about to light it, a firm knock at the door broke the quiet. He hesitated for a moment before sighing and making his way to answer it.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by a man in a police uniform. “Good evening,” the officer began. “I’m Officer Higgins with the Oakland PD. Who am I speaking to?”

Neil’s expression remained neutral. “Neil Hatford. What do you need officer?”

Higgins raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. “I’m looking for Andrew Minyard. Do you know where he is?”

Neil’s jaw tightened. He didn’t trust cops—never had, never would. “I don’t know any Andrew,” he said flatly, already preparing to shut the door.

Higgins placed a foot on the doorframe, stopping him. “Mr. Hatford, this dorm is for athletes, and Andrew Minyard plays Exy, same as you. I’d advise against lying to a police officer—it’s a crime, you know.”

Neil’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the door tightening. His pulse quickened, but his face betrayed nothing. “I said I don’t know him,” he repeated, his tone cold and unyielding.

Before Higgins could respond, footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Dan appeared. She paused mid-step, her brows furrowing at the sight of the officer. “What’s going on here?”

“And who you may be?” Higgins asked, turning his attention to her. “I’m here to speak with Andrew Minyard.”

Dan crossed her arms. “Danielle Wilds. Why? What’s this about?”

Higgins maintained a professional demeanor. “I just need to talk with him. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

Dan gave him a skeptical look but gestured toward the common room. “Come in. I’ll call him.”

As she disappeared down the hall to find Andrew, Neil was left alone with the officer. Higgins stepped inside and looked around, his sharp eyes taking in the surroundings.

Neil stayed silent, his arms crossed defensively as he leaned back against the wall. He didn’t trust Higgins’ presence here, and the man’s calm, almost intrusive gaze only fueled his unease. Higgins, for his part, seemed content to wait, his expression unreadable as the tense silence stretched between them.

The air in the room felt heavy, but Neil refused to let his guard down. If Andrew was in trouble, Neil wasn’t about to hand him over to anyone without knowing why.

Neil stayed by the open window, exhaling a cloud of smoke as his sharp gaze flicked toward Higgins. The officer had taken a seat on the couch, casually surveying the room as if it was his own. Neil felt the tension in his muscles, the deep unease that came from being in the presence of law enforcement. He didn’t trust cops. He especially didn’t trust one who had clearly made Andrew a target.

Two minutes later, Dan returned with Andrew in tow. Andrew’s presence shifted the atmosphere immediately, cold and sharp like a blade unsheathed.

“Oh, I must be imagining things. Pig Higgins, you are a very long way from home,” Andrew said, his tone laced with venom.

“Andrew,” Higgins replied, standing. “We need to talk.”

“We talked, remember?” Andrew said flatly. “I told you not to bother me.”

“You said not to call you,” Higgins countered. “Just give me a few minutes, won’t you, for old times’ sake? I came all the way out here to see you. Doesn’t that get me any sort of consideration?”

Andrew shook his head. “You didn’t come out here for me. You came on a witch hunt I already said I wouldn’t help you with. Give me one good reason not to cut your throat, would you?”

Dan hissed under her breath, alarmed, but Higgins didn’t so much as flinch. His face was calm, almost resigned. “I was wrong. I know that now. The investigation on him turned up nothing.”

“I warned you,” Andrew said, his tone devoid of sympathy.

“We were looking at the wrong person, weren’t we?” Higgins said, voice low. “I think I’ve got it right this time, but I can’t do anything without a complaining witness. The other kids won’t speak up. They don’t trust me that much. You’re all I’ve got.”

That made Andrew pause. His expression didn’t change, but the stillness of his body was telling. “Kids?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “Kids, plural. You only mentioned one last time, Pig. How many are you talking about? How many has she had?”

“You wouldn’t care about the number unless there really was something there for me to find,” Higgins said, his tone both quiet and accusing. “Just yes or no, Andrew. That’s all I want. That’s all I need right now. I’ll give you a name, you give me an answer, and I promise I’ll go away.”

“You promise,” Andrew said, his words sharp with disdain. “You’ll break that promise inside a week, Pig. Don’t pretend otherwise. Do I have to walk you out to make sure you leave, or will you—”

“Drake,” Higgins interrupted.

Andrew shut up, his jaw tightening visibly. Higgins straightened in his seat, preparing for the explosion that might follow.

For a long, tense moment, Andrew said nothing. Then, finally: “How many kids, Pig?”

“Six, since you,” Higgins said quietly.

Andrew turned abruptly and strode out of the room without another word. The slam of the stairwell door echoed a moment later as Higgins followed after him.

Neil exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill and glanced at Dan, whose face mirrored the unease that had settled in Neil’s gut.

After ten minutes, Andrew returned. His face was unreadable, a mask of indifference that did nothing to ease the tension lingering in the air. He headed straight for his room, his movements quick and deliberate, but Dan stepped in front of his door before he could vanish inside.

Andrew stopped obediently, though his hands came up to grasp her upper arms. It wasn’t rough, but the pressure was firm—an unspoken warning. If she didn’t move, he wouldn’t hesitate to shove her out of the way.

Dan’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t back down. “Why are the police looking for you?” she asked, her voice steady despite her unease.

Andrew leaned in slightly, his cold gaze locking onto hers. His tone was calm but razor-sharp. “I’m not in trouble, if that’s what you want to know. Don’t try to make this your business, okay? We may be a team, as you’d say, but this has nothing to do with any of you.”

Dan hesitated. In the past, she might have pressed harder, pushing him until she got an answer, but things were different now. The team had grown closer, and she didn’t want to risk unraveling the fragile trust they’d built. She stepped aside, letting him go.

Andrew opened his door without another word and disappeared into his room. The door clicked shut with quiet finality.

Dan exhaled slowly and headed toward the kitchen, needing something to keep her hands busy. Neil followed, sensing her unease. He stepped in to help her prepare some snacks, the mundane activity grounding them both. Neil thought it may be good idea to make Andrew something sweet to cheer him up. Fortunately he knew how to make cookies.

As they were finishing up, Matt and Seth wandered into the common area. Matt immediately noticed the tension. “What’s up? You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dan wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Andrew had a visitor. A cop.”

Matt blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

Dan explained briefly about Officer Higgins showing up and Andrew’s refusal to share any details. The concern on Matt and Seth’s faces mirrored her own.

Neil, who had been leaning against the counter, straightened up and interjected firmly, “Don’t get involved in Andrew’s business. It’s his to handle, not ours.”

Matt looked like he wanted to argue but eventually nodded, respecting Neil’s unusually serious tone. Seth gave a small shrug, signaling his agreement.

Before the mood could sour further, Neil changed the subject. “"Before I forget, Andrew said I could invite you to the Halloween party at Eden's Twilight. It's on the twenty-seventh. Tell Allison and Renee about it too”

Dan, Matt, and Seth exchanged surprised looks. “Wait, seriously?” Matt asked, grinning.

Neil nodded. “Yeah. Costumes get you a free first round.”

Matt let out an excited whoop. “I’m in!” Seth chuckled, giving a small fist pump of approval. Even Dan cracked a smile.

As they cleaned up, Neil felt a flicker of satisfaction. He’d managed to redirect the conversation and remind them that Andrew wasn’t the unapproachable villain they sometimes thought he was. Beneath the walls, Andrew cared—in his own way—and this was Neil’s way of showing them that.

The Foxes arrived at Eden’s Twilight in two cars. Allison’s car carried the upperclassmen, while Andrew drove the others in Nicky’s car. When Nicky pulled up to the curb out front, Allison double-parked beside him to let her passengers out.

Andrew got out first and approached the bouncer on duty, handing over a small stack of VIP parking passes. Kevin took one and passed it to Allison through her window, quickly explaining directions to the nearby parking garage in case she and Nicky got separated in traffic. She nodded briskly, her focus already on maneuvering back into traffic as the rest of the Foxes filed out onto the sidewalk.

The bouncer looked a little taken aback by the unusually large group Andrew had brought along, but he said nothing as he waved them through. Andrew pushed open the second set of doors, and the muffled thrum of bass-heavy music turned into a deafening pulse as they entered the club.

The space was alive with flashing lights and a crowd that moved in rhythm with the music. Andrew led the way, weaving through the throng with practiced ease until they reached a large booth tucked against the wall. The team slid into the seats, their chatter nearly drowned out by the music.

Without a word, Andrew turned and motioned for Neil to follow him. Neil hesitated for half a second before standing, ignoring the curious glances from the rest of the team.

They approached the bar, where Roland was already working, expertly mixing drinks with a sly grin plastered on his face. His gaze flicked to Neil, and the grin widened.

“Well, well, if that isn’t Neil ” Roland greeted in a flirty tone that made Neil uncomfortable and Andrew bristle. “You know I still don’t know how such angel still hang out with Andrew, but I am not a person who judges”

Neil opened his mouth to respond, but Andrew’s arm shot out, resting firmly around Neil’s waist. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was deliberate, a clear signal that left no room for misinterpretation.

Roland raised his eyebrows, his smile turning wry. “Got it,” he said smoothly. “Message received.”

Andrew didn’t bother with a reply, his gaze cold and unyielding.

Roland didn’t push further and shifted his focus to his work. “So, what’ll it be tonight?”

Andrew rattled off a quick list, including one soda for Renee. Roland quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, turning to gather ingredients and mix the drinks.

Neil glanced at Andrew, noting the tension in his stance and the firm grip around his waist. He considered saying something to diffuse the situation but decided against it. Instead, he stayed quiet, leaning slightly into Andrew’s hold in a silent show of support.

When the drinks were ready, Roland handed them over with a nod. “Enjoy your night,” he said, his tone as teasing as ever but far less pointed.

Andrew took the tray without a word and led Neil back to their table.

When they got back to the table, Andrew’s hand was long gone from Neil’s waist. It didn’t take the Foxes long to empty the tray of drinks Andrew and Neil had brought back. Andrew, still stone-faced, stood and motioned for Renee to follow him. The two went back to the bar, navigating through the thrumming crowd to replenish their drinks.

By the time they returned with another tray, it didn’t take long for the group to disperse. Matt and Dan disappeared to the dance floor, laughing and swaying together. Allison grabbed Seth’s hand and dragged him after them, leaving a trail of glitter from her outfit in her wake. Aaron had been missing for a while, blending somewhere into the sea of partygoers. At the bar, Nicky was engaged in an animated conversation with a guy he’d met, already gesturing wildly.

Andrew shot a look at Renee, a subtle signal. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t protest. Turning to Kevin, who was nursing another drink and muttering about Exy plays, Renee offered her hand.

“Dance with me, Kevin,” she said.

Kevin frowned, clearly uninterested. “No.”

Renee didn’t give him the option. “That wasn’t a question,” she said lightly, tugging him out of his chair before he could argue further. Kevin grumbled but followed her toward the dance floor.

Now, Andrew and Neil were the only ones left at the table. Their seats were close, a casual proximity that felt intimate in the chaotic buzz of the club. Andrew took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, his gaze sharp as ever but his demeanor surprisingly relaxed. His hand found its way to Neil’s hip, resting there in a light but deliberate touch.

Neil felt his stomach flip, a wave of warmth and nerves washing over him. He swayed slightly to the beat of the music, the alcohol making him just loose enough to enjoy the rhythm without overthinking it. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, forgotten for the moment as he glanced at Andrew.

Andrew didn’t say a word, his focus somewhere distant even as his hand stayed on Neil.

After a while, Renee and Kevin returned. Kevin looked mildly disgruntled but less tense, and Renee’s serene smile hadn’t wavered. They slipped back into their seats, Kevin picking up his drink and muttering about needing another round.

Neil, slightly tipsy now, turned to Andrew with a grin. “Do you want to dance?” he asked, his voice warm and unguarded.

Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “No. If you want go.”

Neil stood, leaving his cigarette in the ashtray and his drink half-finished on the table. With a small smile, he moved toward the dance floor, vanishing into the vibrant crowd.

Andrew watched him go, his hand falling from Neil’s hip as his sharp eyes tracked him until the crowd swallowed him up.

Neil swayed to the rhythm of the music, letting the beat guide him as the crowd moved in a pulsing wave around him. The club’s vibrant atmosphere was intoxicating—bright lights, deep bass, and the hum of countless conversations blending into the melody. His tipsiness made the world feel a little softer, but he was still aware of his surroundings.

That awareness sharpened when a stranger stepped close to him, invading his personal space. Neil stiffened slightly, casting a sideways glance at the man who had positioned himself at his side. The man, tall with a predatory grin, leaned closer and placed a hand on Neil’s hip—exactly where Andrew’s had been not long ago.

Disgust churned in Neil’s stomach.

“Hey,” the man said, his voice smooth but dripping with intent. “You single?”

“No,” Neil replied flatly, his tone cold enough to cut.

The man smirked, unbothered by the rejection. “Shame. Why don’t you ditch your boyfriend and have some fun with me?”

Neil’s blood boiled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as a surge of anger rushed through him. Just as he opened his mouth to fire back, a new presence appeared behind the man.

A hand landed firmly on the stranger’s shoulder, its grip authoritative and unyielding. The man tensed, but it wasn’t the hand that alarmed him—it was the sensation of cold steel pressing subtly against his side, right where his kidney was.

The voice that followed was calm but laced with a quiet menace. “That’s not going to happen. Move along.”

The man froze, his bravado evaporating as he realized the danger he was in. Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender and took a step back, his eyes darting to the side to see who was behind him.

It was Alec.

Alec was taller than Neil, with a lean but strong build that didn’t diminish the sharp edge of intimidation he carried effortlessly. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, and his piercing green eyes gleamed under the club’s neon lights.

Neil stared in surprise, his anger momentarily forgotten. Alec was the last person he expected to see here. His friend stood there, casual as ever, with his knife subtly hidden again, as if he hadn’t just been threatening someone’s life.

“W-what’s your problem?” the man stammered.

Alec smiled faintly, a razor’s edge of amusement in his tone. “The problem is you not taking no for an answer. Do yourself a favor and walk away while you still can.”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled back into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as he could manage.

Neil turned fully to face Alec, his shock giving way to a mixture of relief and confusion. “Alec? What are you doing here?”

Alec sheathed the knife with a smooth motion, as if the whole encounter had been nothing more than a casual exchange. He grinned. “Nice to see you too, little Hatford.”

Neil blinked, his mind racing to catch up. “How—why—”

“I was in the club already,” Alec interrupted, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Business trip. Stuart sent me to handle something nearby. I wasn’t planning on running into you, but then I saw your group. Hard to miss that hair of yours.”

Neil still felt a bit dazed. “You didn’t think to just say hi?”

Alec smirked. “And miss a chance to make an entrance? Come on, you know me better than that.”

Neil rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Still the same old Alec.”

Alec’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “And you’re still the same trouble magnet I remember.”

Neil studied Alec for a moment. He had always been a steady presence in his life since their unexpected friendship began. They met four months after Henry’s betrayal. Alec had been working for Stuart as an informant, but his sharp wit and easygoing attitude had made him more of a confidant than just another operative.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Neil admitted.

“Life’s full of surprises,” Alec said lightly. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, “Speaking of surprises, does your boyfriend know you attract weirdos on the dance floor?”

Neil’s cheeks flushed slightly, but before he could respond, Alec clapped him on the shoulder again. “Come on, let’s get you back to your group before anyone else gets ideas.”

Neil and Alec weaved their way through the crowded dance floor, heading back to the Foxes’ table. The vibrant lights of the club painted the scene in shifting hues of blue and red, casting shadows that danced along the walls. As they approached, Neil spotted Andrew sitting in his usual spot, leaning back with his ever-present air of disinterest. Beside him, Kevin was slumped over, clearly passed out from one too many drinks.

Andrew’s sharp gaze locked onto Alec the moment they came into view. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the tension in his shoulders became more pronounced.

“Andrew, this is Alec,” Neil said, gesturing to his friend. “Alec, Andrew.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change, his silence heavier than usual. Alec, unfazed, offered a small nod.

“Nice to meet you,” Alec said, his tone casual but not overly friendly. He had the sense Andrew wasn’t one for pleasantries.

Andrew’s gaze flicked to Neil, his voice flat as he asked, “Where do you know him from?”

Neil hesitated briefly, not wanting to dredge up too much of the past in front of the team, but he kept his tone neutral. “Alec’s an old friend. He used to date Emma, and he works for Stuart.”

Andrew didn’t say anything. He looked back at Alec, his eyes assessing. Alec met the scrutiny without flinching, his easygoing demeanor unshaken.

“Well, it’s been fun,” Alec said, clapping Neil lightly on the shoulder. “But I should head out. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving already?” Neil asked.

Alec smirked. “Gotta keep up appearances. Can’t let Stuart think I’m slacking off.”

Neil gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Alec. For earlier.”

“Anytime,” Alec said, his tone warm but his grin mischievous. He gave Andrew a quick glance, his expression unreadable, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Neil slid into his seat beside Andrew, who was still watching the direction Alec had gone. The tension between them wasn’t lost on Neil, but he didn’t address it. Instead, he looked at Kevin’s passed-out form and let out a small laugh.

“Looks like someone’s done for the night,” Neil said, trying to lighten the mood.

Andrew didn’t respond, but he reached for his drink and took a sip, his eyes still thoughtful.

A short while later, the Foxes began regrouping at the table, their energy slightly subdued but still buzzing from the night’s festivities. It was clear the time to head back had come.

“All right,” Nicky said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s round up the stragglers and get going. Kevin looks like he’s about to start snoring, and I’m too pretty to be stuck cleaning him up.”

The group laughed, albeit tiredly, and began gathering their things. Andrew nudged Kevin awake—none too gently—and the team made their way out of Eden’s Twilight, ready to call it a night.

Chapter Text

Monday started like any other day at Palmetto State, but Neil found himself particularly restless as he made his way to math class. The weekend’s events left him with more questions than answers. After class ended, he caught sight of Renee waiting by the door.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“Hey, Neil,” she replied, her usual serene smile in place.

Neil then asked „I know I might be insensitive, but I have learn almost all of the Foxes backstories and I was wondering if you would tell me yours? Or at least how did you end up at Palmetto?”

Renee’s smile dimmed slightly, but her tone remained light. “That’s a long story. But to keep it short—I made a lot of bad decisions growing up. I hurt people, and I got hurt in return. Eventually, I decided I wanted to change, to be someone better thanks to my adoptive mother. She was the one who made me a decent human.”

Neil nodded, absorbing her words. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“So have you,” Renee said knowingly.

Neil didn’t respond, instead shifting the conversation.

They walked together across campus, the crisp autumn air carrying the scent of fallen leaves. Neil wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, but Renee had a way of making people feel at ease.

“Can I ask you something else?” Neil finally said.

“Go ahead,” Renee said.

“Why didn’t you and Andrew date?”

Renee stopped walking, turning to face him. Her expression was unreadable for a moment before she smiled again, though it was tinged with amusement. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”

Neil flushed slightly but nodded. “At first, I thought you two were perfect together. And then the others were betting you two were together. But Andrew confessed to me, and… everything changed. Still, I can’t help wondering.”

Renee’s eyes softened with understanding. “Andrew is gay, Neil. That’s why we never dated.”

Neil blinked, caught off guard. “He’s gay?”

“Yes,” Renee said simply.

Neil felt foolish. “I… I didn’t know. I mean, I knew he liked guys, but he could’ve been bi or pan or something.”

“He’s not,” Renee said gently.

“Did he tell you about us?” Neil asked after a moment.

“Yes,” Renee said, her smile brightening. “He trusts me.”

Neil nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and embarrassment. “I didn’t mind him telling you. I just didn’t expect it. But wait I have another question. I have also noticed that he and Kevin are close…Have they like date?”

Renee chuckled softly. “Oh, no. You'll meet Kevin's girlfriend later this year, I'm sure.”

Neil frowned. “You're lying”

“No,” Renee confirmed. “They're not official, and Kevin knows better than to be indiscreet. But I am sure you have heard about her-Theodora Muldani.”

"Thea Muldani? She is an ex-raven. Is that how they met?" Neil asked, a bit startled.

Renee smiled at how quickly he put it together. "Yes."

Neil's thoughts spun back to Andrew, and he said, "No one else knows about Andrew's sexuality."

"As far as I know, you and I are the only ones," Renee confirmed. "Andrew told me last year when the others started talking about us. He didn't want me getting any ideas from their gossip, he said."

"But Aaron and Nicky," Neil protested. "I know they've only known him for a couple years, but they're with him all the time. How could they not have figured it out by now?"

"Andrew does not want them to know. He and Aaron aren't ready for a conversation this serious yet. They have too many other problems to work through first. And you know as well as I do Nicky can't keep a secret to save his life," Renee said.

Neil nodded, filing that information away. He’d never been one to pry into Andrew’s personal life unless Andrew offered it first, and he wouldn’t start now.

As they neared the dorms, Neil felt a little lighter. Renee had answered questions he hadn’t even realized he needed to ask, and her calm presence was a balm to his restless thoughts.

“Thanks,” Neil said as they parted ways.

“Anytime,” Renee said with a smile.

It was a quiet afternoon in the dorm. Neil was stretched out on his bed, rereading an old playbook. Matt was sprawled on his bed across the room, scrolling through his phone. Seth was absent, out on a date with Allison. The relative calm was a rare luxury for the Foxes, but it was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Neil glanced up from his book. “Were you expecting anyone?”

Matt shook his head. “Seth, maybe?”

Neil frowned. “This is his room too. Why would he knock?”

He got up and opened the door. Standing there was Nicky, shifting awkwardly on his feet with an unusually hesitant expression.

“Nicky?” Neil said, puzzled.

“Hey, Neil,” Nicky said, forcing a cheerful tone. “Can I come in?”

Neil stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Matt gave a wave but didn’t seem particularly interested, his focus still on his phone.

“What’s up?” Neil asked, closing the door behind him.

Nicky hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, need a favor.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”

“It’s about Thanksgiving,” Nicky began.

Neil frowned. “What about it?”

“My mom called,” Nicky said. “She invited me—and Andrew and Aaron—to come home for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Neil’s eyebrows shot up. “Andrew and Aaron? To your house? That sounds… optimistic.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Nicky said, grimacing. “You know Andrew hates Luther, and Aaron hasn’t said a word to anyone back home since… well, since their mom’s funeral. It’s a mess. But my mom’s been on my case about trying to make things better. She thinks it’s a good idea for them to come.”

“And you want me to… what?” Neil asked, though he already had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

“I want you to ask Andrew to go,” Nicky said.

Neil stared at him, incredulous. “Why me? If he doesn’t want to go, he’s not going to go. And besides, I’m pretty sure he’d ignore me the same way he’d ignore you.”

Nicky gave him a knowing look. “Neil, come on. Andrew doesn’t listen to me, but he listens to you. Don’t ask me why, but he does. Every time I see you two together, it’s like you’ve got some kind of secret language. He actually considers what you say.”

Neil froze, momentarily worried that Nicky might have caught on to their relationship. But the older man’s expression remained oblivious, just earnest and desperate.

“You really think he’ll agree just because I ask?” Neil asked, skeptical.

Nicky nodded fervently. “If anyone can get him to agree, it’s you. Please, Neil. You are my last hope.”

Neil sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask. But don’t get your hopes up.”

Nicky grinned, his relief palpable. “Thank you! Seriously, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

Neil didn’t feel like much of a lifesaver. If anything, he felt like he was walking straight into a minefield. But he couldn’t say no to Nicky’s pleading, and deep down, he knew he’d do almost anything for Andrew—whether Andrew agreed to go or not was another matter entirely.

As Nicky left the room to wait outside, Neil glanced over at Matt, who had been quietly listening.

“Good luck with that,” Matt said, smirking. “You’re gonna need it.”

Neil rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. He needed to figure out how to phrase this question without Andrew immediately shutting him down—or, worse, getting annoyed.

Neil goes to Andrew, Nicky, Kevin and Aarons room with Nicky. He ask Andrew to talk  and Andrew without word leaves for the rooftop.

Neil followed Andrew to the rooftop, the brisk autumn air nipping at his skin as they stepped outside. Andrew leaned casually against the railing, lighting a cigarette and waiting for Neil to speak. The city stretched out around them, a blend of orange streetlights and fading daylight.

“Well?” Andrew said, his tone indifferent. “What does Nicky want now?”

Neil hesitated, knowing this conversation wouldn’t be easy. “Nicky’s mom invited him to Thanksgiving dinner at their house.”

Andrew exhaled smoke, unimpressed. “What does that have to do with me?”

“She also invited you and Aaron,” Neil said.

Andrew huffed. “Of course she did. If Nicky wants to believe his parents would ever accept him, who am I to stop him? But that’s his mistake to make.”

Neil pressed on. “She specifically asked for you and Aaron to come with him. Nicky said he couldn’t come if you two didn’t.”

Andrew flicked ash off the side of the roof. “Then the problem is solved. No one is going.”

Neil frowned. “Why won’t you go?”

“Why would I?” Andrew countered, turning to face Neil. His expression was calm, but Neil could see the tension in his posture. “I don’t like Luther.”

“Why won’t you tolerate Luther?” Neil asked, refusing to back down. “Wasn’t he the one that took you out of juvie and reunited you with Tilda?”

Andrew’s jaw tightened, and Neil could see the storm brewing behind his golden eyes. “That doesn’t change anything” Andrew said, each word sharp and continued. ”Tilda wasn’t a mother to me. The only mother I had at that time was Cass. She was going to adopted me.”

Then Andrew added “Luther would have let her have me if it was what I wanted,” Andrew said. “He knew Aaron’s mother wanted nothing to do with me, but he wanted to make things right with me somehow. If Cass was ‘right,’ he would fight on her behalf to get the adoption approved. Couldn’t have that.”

“Why not?” Neil asked, his voice quieter now.

Andrew’s face turned darker. “That’s a different story. This story is about Cass and Luther, isn’t it? Luther said he could send me back to Cass. I gave him a secret to make sure he wouldn’t.”

“And he told someone,” Neil guessed.

Andrew shook his head. “No. That’s too easy. These kinds of secrets are not given out lightly. Luther didn’t tell. He chose not to believe me at all. And that’s a thousand times worse. You see, if I tell a man the sky is blue and he says I’m wrong, I see no reason to trust him anymore.”

Neil’s brow furrowed. “So did Luther not believe you, or did he say you were wrong? There’s a significant difference between the two.”

Andrew tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. “Sometimes I forget you’re sharp one.”

“He said it was a misunderstanding,” Neil guessed.

Andrew went perfectly still, just for a moment, and Neil knew he’d hit the mark.

“I told you I don’t like that word,” Andrew said, his voice low.

“Andrew,” Neil started.

“No. I am done with this,” Andrew said, cutting him off. He didn’t raise his voice, but the finality in his tone was unmistakable.

Neil didn’t back down. “That was five years ago. Maybe he’s sorry.”

“You say that because you haven’t met Luther,” Andrew said.

“Can I?” Neil asked.

That surprised Andrew enough to make him pause. “Neil, you wouldn’t know what to do with a God-fearing minister. You can barely stand to be around Renee. There’s no way you could last a sit-down with Luther. He’d end up exorcising you when you snapped.”

“It could be entertaining,” Neil said.

Andrew considered that for a moment. “It could be,” he agreed.

“Let’s all go,” Neil said. “Aaron will agree for Nicky’s sake, and Nicky can see if his parents have come around. There’s no way you’ll let Kevin that far out of your sights, so take him with you. I’ll tag along so you can harass me instead of Luther. Imagine how uncomfortable Nicky’s parents will be if they have to contend with the five of us.”

Andrew’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Or we could stay here.”

“Not as interesting,” Neil countered. Then he added softly, “Please?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “I hate that word.”

“Does your shrink know you have a grudge against half of the English language?” Neil asked, but Andrew only shrugged.

Neil tried one last appeal. “Nicky wants to give his parents another try. If this dinner goes badly, it might be the breaking point. If they let him down again, he might finally be ready to walk away for good.”

Andrew hummed thoughtfully, and Neil held his breath.

“One last chance,” Andrew said finally. “That’s all I’m going to give Nicky. But I won’t spend Thanksgiving with them, and I won’t play nice. Get Nicky to change the date and get your invitation. Okay?”

“Okay,” Neil agreed.

Andrew let go of him with cold look. “We’re all going to regret this. Nicky most of all if his father winds up dead.”

Neil hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t ask, but the words spilled out anyway. “Did you really kill Aaron’s mother?”

Andrew tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “That was a tragic accident. Didn’t you read the police reports?”

Neil didn’t believe the act for a second.

“Guess she hit him one time too many,” Andrew admitted. “I warned her not to lay a hand on him, but she didn’t listen. She got what was coming to her. Does that frighten you, Neil?”

Neil met Andrew’s gaze steadily. “Knowing my backstory, do you think I’m scared?”

Andrew’s face got a bit warm. “You’re an idiot.” he said, but there was no bite in it.

Neil texted Nicky with a simple message: “Andrew agrees, but there are conditions.”

The response came almost immediately.

“THANK YOU! You’re the BEST! 🧡 ”

Neil slipped his phone back into his pocket and lit a cigarette, the orange glow flaring in the dim light. Andrew was leaning against the railing, silent but present. The tension that had hung between them earlier was gone, replaced by the familiar ease they shared.

Neil broke the silence. “Sorry, I pushed too hard.”

Andrew glanced at him, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “You didn’t.” He shrugged, the motion casual. “You always think you’re better at persuasion than you are.”

Neil huffed a laugh, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Maybe.”

They stood like that for a while, the city humming below them, the cool breeze carrying the faint sound of laughter and distant car horns. It felt safe, the kind of silence Neil wasn’t used to but had come to appreciate.

“I never told you how my mother died,” Neil said suddenly.

Andrew tilted his head slightly, a sign he was listening.

Neil stared out over the city, his voice low. “We were running from Nathan’s men. They caught up to us in Chicago. We barely got away, but not without damage. We drove all night, heading west. By the time we reached California, she told me to stop at a beach.”

Andrew didn’t move, didn’t interrupt, letting Neil talk at his own pace.

“That’s when I realized…” Neil’s voice faltered for a moment, and he took another drag from his cigarette. “She was hurt. Badly. I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew that much blood wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even the right color—it was dark, almost black.”

Neil clenched his jaw, willing himself to continue. “I wanted to do something, anything, but she stopped me. She made me sit there and say every promise I’d ever made to her. Over and over again. Don’t stop. Don’t slow. Never be anyone for too long.”

Andrew’s gaze was steady, unwavering.

“She died in the car,” Neil said flatly. “And I couldn’t leave her there. I couldn’t just… abandon her like that.” He swallowed hard, the memory clawing at him. “So I burned the car and buried her in the sand. By the time the sun came up, there was nothing left of her but ash and a grave no one would ever find.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw. Neil exhaled smoke, staring out at the horizon as if he could see that beach all over again.

Andrew didn’t offer platitudes or sympathy. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on the back of Neil’s neck, grounding him in the present.

“You did what you had to do,” Andrew said simply.

Neil turned to meet Andrew’s gaze. There was no pity there, no judgment—just the quiet understanding that came from someone who had lived through his own kind of hell.

“Yeah,” Neil said softly. “I did.”

After a little silence Neil remembered something.

“In two day is your birthday. What do you want?” Neil asked.

Andrew looked at him with unamused expression. “Nothing.”

“That’s not an answer,” Neil said.

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” Andrew said, looking at the sky.

Neil frowned, not willing to let it drop. “There’s got to be something. You don’t want to be ignored on your birthday, do you?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, unimpressed and looked at him again. “Do you know me at all?”

Neil leaned back on his hands, studying Andrew. “Okay, then. If you could have anything, what would it be?”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “Something even your money couldn’t buy.”

Neil tilted his head, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind those words, but Andrew didn’t elaborate.

“Fine,” Neil said, refusing to back down. “Then pick something money can buy.”

Andrew stared at him, silent for so long Neil wondered if he was ignoring the question entirely. Finally, Andrew said, “I don’t know.”

Neil blinked, caught off guard by the honest admission. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t want anything,” Andrew said flatly. “That should be obvious by now.”

Neil thought about that, then shook his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Andrew didn’t respond, his attention back on the sky, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Neil sighed, already plotting with himself. Andrew might not want anything, but Neil was determined to figure out what he needed—even if Andrew didn’t know it himself.

They stayed like that for a while longer, the city lights flickering around them. For once, neither felt the need to fill the silence. It was enough to just be.

Chapter Text

Neil had spent the evening thinking about what to give Andrew—something meaningful but not overbearing, something that wouldn’t immediately get thrown away or ignored.

His solution came to him in a moment of clarity when he realized he couldn’t ignore Aaron’s birthday either. As much as he disliked Aaron, he knew Andrew would see right through any attempt to give Aaron nothing. That’s how Neil settled on the idea of a camping trip—a temporary escape from their lives.

He planned it all out meticulously. Andrew, Aaron, Katelyn (Aaron’s not-so-secret girlfriend), and Neil himself would spend a night under the stars. It wasn’t just about celebrating the twins' birthday; it was about creating a moment of peace, free from the shadows of their pasts.

The only potential problem was getting everyone to agree, starting with Andrew.

Neil decided to consult Bee first. If anyone could help him gauge how Andrew might react to this, it was her. The next day after his morning class, Neil swung by her office. Bee listened as Neil explained his plan, nodding thoughtfully.

“Do you think he’ll go for it?” Neil asked, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.

Bee smiled softly. “I think it’s a good idea, Neil. Andrew might resist at first, but he listens to you more than anyone else. And I think he needs something like this, even if he won’t admit it. His bond with Aaron is damaged and this may start the process of rebuilding it.”

Buoyed by her encouragement, Neil moved on to his next challenge: Katelyn.

Katelyn was hesitant at first. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, twirling a strand of her hair nervously. “Andrew hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Neil said, though he wasn’t entirely sure himself. “He tolerates you because of Aaron. And tolerating is the closest thing to approval you’re going to get from Andrew. Besides, this isn’t about you or me—it’s about them. You care about Aaron, right?”

“Of course,” she said immediately.

“Then come,” Neil said. “You don’t have to do anything but be there. It’s one night. You can handle that.”

After a long pause, Katelyn sighed. “Okay. For Aaron.”

With that settled, Neil made the final arrangements. Using Stuart’s connections, he secured a quiet campsite near Palmetto. It had everything they’d need: privacy, a stunning view of the river, and a clear sky perfect for stargazing.

The last hurdle was getting Coach Wymack’s permission to miss practice the next day.

When Neil approached him, Wymack raised an eyebrow. “You want to skip practice for a camping trip?”

“It’s for Andrew and Aaron’s birthday,” Neil explained. “I think it’s important. And it’s just one day.”

Wymack sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re lucky you’ve been pulling your weight lately. Fine. But if you come back out of shape or distracted, you’ll regret it.”

Neil nodded, relieved. “Thanks, Coach.”

That evening, Neil waited until Aaron, Kevin and Nicky were out and Andrew was alone in their dorm before broaching the subject. He sat across from Andrew, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“What do you want?” Andrew asked, cutting straight to the point.

“I have something planned for your birthday.” Neil said.

Andrew arched an eyebrow.

“I’m taking you, Aaron, Katelyn, and me on a camping trip. Just for one night.”

Andrew stared at him, his expression unreadable. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard the details yet,” Neil said.

“I don’t need to. I’m not going.”

Neil leaned forward. “It’s one night, Andrew. No exy, no school, no obligations. Just us and the stars. You might even enjoy it.”

“I don’t do enjoyment,” Andrew said flatly.

Neil sighed, but he wasn’t ready to give up. “I talked to Bee about it. She thinks it’s a good idea. Katelyn’s coming, so Aaron will be manageable. And I talked to Renee, she will look after Kevin for the time we are away.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Neil. “You’ve already talked to everyone about this except me?”

“I needed to make sure it was possible before I asked you,” Neil said. “But I want you there, Andrew. This isn’t just for Aaron. It’s for you, too.”

Andrew was silent for a long moment, then finally said, “And if I say no?”

“You won’t,” Neil said with quiet certainty.

Andrew’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile Neil would get. “Fine. But if it’s awful, I’ll make you regret it.”

Neil grinned, triumphant. “Deal.”

Sunday morning began with a flurry of activity as the twins, Neil, and Katelyn packed their things for the camping trip. Neil had spent most of the previous night preparing, carefully double-checking their supplies: a tent, sleeping bags, food for the night, and materials for a campfire. Andrew and Aaron didn’t say much during breakfast, their shared grumpiness creating a heavy silence in the room. Katelyn, ever the optimist, tried to keep the mood light by chatting with Neil about the itinerary.

After their morning practice, the four of them gathered their bags and made their way to Andrew’s car. Kevin’s reaction to their absence from the following day’s practice had been as dramatic as Neil expected.

“You can’t just skip practice!” Kevin had exclaimed, his voice rising in indignation. “What kind of message does this send? We have a game in less than two weeks!”

Wymack, who had been leaning against the lockers with a cup of coffee, silenced him with a single glare. “They have my permission. If you want to make it to game day with both legs intact, I suggest you stop arguing.”

The memory of Kevin’s stunned expression kept Neil entertained for most of the ride.

The drive to the campsite was, predictably, awkward at first. Andrew drove in silence, his expression as unreadable as ever. Aaron sat in the front seat beside him, arms crossed, while Neil and Katelyn took the back.

Neil had anticipated this tension and came prepared. He struck up a lively conversation with Katelyn, pointedly ignoring the grumpy twin duo up front.

“So, Katelyn,” Neil said, his tone casual, “what’s the longest road trip you’ve ever been on?”

Katelyn smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Probably the one my family took to the Grand Canyon when I was sixteen. It was supposed to be a bonding trip, but my little brother got carsick, and my dad insisted on listening to the same country album the whole way there.”

Neil laughed. “Sounds like character-building. Did you at least get some good pictures out of it?”

“A few,” Katelyn said, chuckling. “But mostly just of my brother looking miserable in the background.”

Aaron, despite himself, couldn’t resist joining the conversation. “You’re lucky. My family never went anywhere. The farthest we got was church on Sundays, and even that felt like a punishment.”

“Bet you looked great in your Sunday best,” Neil teased.

Aaron rolled his eyes but smirked. “Don’t push it, Hatford.”

As the conversation continued, the atmosphere in the car gradually lightened. By the time they neared their destination, even Aaron was contributing to the banter, leaving Andrew the only one silent.

Neil glanced at his boyfriend and caught the faintest hint of irritation in his expression. Smiling to himself, Neil leaned closer to Katelyn, deliberately ignoring Andrew’s mood. If Andrew wanted to sulk, Neil wasn’t going to stop him.

The group arrived at their reserved campsite in the late afternoon. The spot was picturesque, nestled in a clearing surrounded by tall trees. A narrow river ran nearby, its gentle bubbling adding to the serene ambiance. The sky above was clear, promising a beautiful evening under the stars.

Andrew parked the car, and they all got out to unload their supplies. Without much discussion, the twins set about assembling the tent, their movements practiced but silent.

“Let them do their thing,” Neil said to Katelyn as they grabbed the firewood basket. “Let’s go gather some wood.”

Katelyn nodded, and the two headed into the forest. As they wandered among the trees, Katelyn took the opportunity to break the silence.

“I was a little nervous about this trip,” she admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Because of Andrew?”

“Partly,” Katelyn said. “He’s… not exactly warm, you know? And I know Aaron’s always on edge around him. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Neil smirked. “Andrew takes some getting used to, but he’s not as scary as he looks. Most of the time.”

Katelyn laughed softly. “I’ll take your word for it. But honestly, I’m more worried about ruining things between Aaron and me. He doesn’t open up easily, and I don’t want to overstep.”

Neil stopped to pick up a sturdy branch and glanced at her. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re good for him. He’s not as prickly when you’re around. That’s a minor miracle.”

“Thanks,” Katelyn said, smiling. “You’re not so bad yourself. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but Aaron talks about you more than he’ll admit. He respects you, even if he pretends not to.”

Neil was surprised but didn’t show it. “He’s not so bad either. For a Fox.”

By the time they returned to the campsite with their bundle of wood, the tent was up. However, something was clearly wrong.

Aaron stood stiffly near the car, his expression thunderous. The good mood he’d shown earlier had completely evaporated. Andrew, who was finishing up tying down one of the tent’s stakes, looked as calm as ever, but Neil could see the telltale tension in his jaw.

Katelyn opened her mouth to ask what had happened, but Neil stopped her with a subtle shake of his head. He’d seen this kind of mood shift before and knew better than to push.

Instead, he set the firewood down and said, “The tent looks good. You two sure you haven’t been moonlighting as wilderness guides?”

Andrew glanced at him, and for a moment, Neil thought he wouldn’t answer. Then Andrew said, “It’s functional.”

“That’s high praise coming from you,” Neil said lightly, but neither twin responded.

Katelyn hesitated, clearly torn between curiosity and caution, but she followed Neil’s lead and busied herself with setting up the fire pit.

Whatever had happened while they were gone, Neil knew better than to push for answers right now. If Andrew wanted him to know, he’d say something. Until then, Neil would let the twins sort themselves out.

Night fell over the campsite, bringing a sharp chill that forced them to bundle up. Andrew, Aaron, Katelyn, and Neil sat near the fire, its warm glow flickering over their faces. Katelyn had draped a thick blanket over her shoulders, and Neil, noticing her shivering, shared a corner of it without hesitation.

They talked quietly, the crackling fire filling the lulls in conversation. Katelyn and Neil carried most of the discussion, their words punctuated by occasional laughs. Andrew and Aaron sat nearby, silent and distant. Andrew’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but Aaron’s scowl deepened every time Katelyn or Neil spoke.

Neil had enough. The tension had been simmering since they arrived, and it was ruining the trip. He turned his attention to the twins.

“All right,” Neil said, his tone sharp enough to cut through the crackling firewood. “What happened earlier? You’ve been acting like this all day, and I’m done pretending it’s not a problem.”

Andrew didn’t even blink at the question, and Aaron crossed his arms, staring stubbornly at the fire.

“I’m not asking for fun,” Neil pressed. “Either one of you wants to explain, or we’re all going to sit here in awkward silence until the fire burns out. Your choice.”

Neither twin spoke. Neil clenched his jaw in frustration and stood, pulling Katelyn up with him.

“Fine,” he said, looking between them. “You want to play this game? Go ahead. Katelyn and I are going for a walk. We’re not coming back until you two figure out whatever the hell your problem is and fix it. Because right now? You’re making everyone miserable.”

Katelyn’s eyes widened in surprise, but she let Neil guide her away without protest.

“We’ll be by the river,” Neil added over his shoulder. “Sort it out. Or don’t. But if we come back and you’re still at each other’s throats, we’re packing up and leaving.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Neil stormed down the narrow path toward the river, the cool night air biting at his face. Katelyn followed closely, her steps light but her expression uncertain. The faint sound of rushing water grew louder as they approached the riverbank.

Neil stopped abruptly when they reached the water’s edge, letting out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell is their problem?”

Katelyn hesitated, unsure how much she should say. “They’re... complicated,” she said softly.

Neil snorted. “Complicated? That’s one way to put it. They’ve been at each other’s throats since forever. I thought this trip might actually help, not make things worse.”

Katelyn pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and looked out at the water. “I don’t think it’s your fault, Neil. Honestly, I’m surprised they agreed to this at all. Aaron and Andrew... they don’t exactly have the healthiest dynamic.”

Neil laughed bitterly, crouching to pick up a smooth stone. He skipped it across the river, the ripples breaking the moon’s reflection. “You think I don’t know that? But they’re grown adults. They could at least act like it for one night.”

Katelyn sat down on a large rock, watching Neil as he threw another stone. “You care about them,” she said gently.

“Of course I care,” Neil said, his voice sharp. “That’s why this is so frustrating. I know they’ve been through a lot—more than most people could survive. But they’re not kids anymore. They can’t just keep dragging everyone else into their mess.”

Katelyn studied him for a moment. “You’re a good person, Neil.”

Neil froze mid-motion, turning to look at her. “I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You are,” Katelyn insisted. “You brought us here because you thought it might help. You put up with their moods because you know they’re hurting, even if they’d never admit it. You’re doing more for them than anyone ever has.”

Neil looked away, letting the words hang in the air. He didn’t know how to respond.

“They’ll figure it out,” Katelyn said after a moment. “They have to. You and I both know Andrew doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. If he agreed to this trip, then he’s at least willing to try.”

Neil let out a slow breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I hope you’re right.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sound of the river and the distant crackling fire filling the space between them.

“Thanks,” Neil said finally.

Katelyn tilted her head. “For what?”

“For coming on this trip,” Neil said. “For putting up with them—and me.”

Katelyn smiled. “We’re in this together, right?”

Neil managed a small smile back. “Yeah.”

After Neil and Katelyn disappeared into the woods, the crackling of the fire was the only sound between the Minyard brothers. Andrew sat on a log, staring into the flames, while Aaron leaned against a tree, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Minutes passed in silence, heavy and taut, until Andrew finally spoke.

“I want to change the deal,” Andrew said, his voice low and steady.

Aaron shifted his weight, uneasy. “I’m listening.”

“You can date Katelyn,” Andrew said, his words deliberate and slow. “If you want.”

Aaron blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What’s the catch?”

“The rules stay the same,” Andrew replied. “You still do what I say when it matters. No arguments.”

Aaron considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll follow your rules. I guess... thanks?”

Andrew didn’t respond, and the silence stretched out again, heavier this time. The flames danced, throwing shadows across their faces.

Finally, Aaron broke the quiet. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Andrew’s gaze shifted from the fire to his twin, his expression unreadable. “For what?”

“For blaming you,” Aaron said, his voice stronger now. “For... everything. For our mother’s death.”

Andrew’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I talked to Bee about it,” Aaron continued. “She made me see things differently. Tilda didn’t love me. She didn’t love either of us. I didn’t want to admit it, but I see it now. You were protecting me.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back slightly. “You needed a shrink to figure that out?”

Aaron managed a small, rueful smile. “Yeah, I guess I did. But I want to fix this. Between us. I’m tired of hating you—or pretending to.”

Andrew studied Aaron for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he inclined his head slightly, a gesture that could have been acknowledgment or dismissal.

Aaron hesitated, then took a step closer. “Bee thinks we should try therapy. Together.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed again, but he didn’t immediately shut the idea down. Instead, he asked, “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t,” Aaron said firmly. “I know it won’t be easy, but... I think we need it. I think I need it.”

Andrew looked away, his gaze returning to the fire. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he nodded once. “Fine.”

Aaron exhaled, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders. “Okay. Good. Thanks.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but the weight between them seemed lighter, the silence less oppressive.

They stayed by the fire a while longer, neither speaking, but for the first time in years, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a tentative beginning.

The stars glittered above the river, their reflections shimmering on the gently flowing water. Neil and Katelyn sat side by side on the grass, the silence between them comfortable as they watched the sky.

Katelyn shivered slightly, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. Neil noticed and frowned.

“You’re cold,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she replied, but her slight tremble betrayed her words.

“Let’s go back.” Neil said, standing up and offering her a hand.

She hesitated but eventually took it, letting Neil pull her to her feet. Together, they walked back toward the tents, their footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor.

When they reached the campsite, the atmosphere was noticeably different. Aaron and Andrew sat on opposite sides of the fire, but the tension that had lingered before was gone. Aaron looked calm, and though Andrew’s face remained as unreadable as ever, his body language was more relaxed.

Katelyn’s eyes darted between them, a question on her lips, but Neil shook his head slightly, silently telling her not to press.

Katelyn settled close to Aaron, leaning into his side. Aaron didn’t push her away, his arm resting lightly around her shoulders. Neil, meanwhile, dropped down beside Andrew, who shifted to make space for him. Without hesitation, Neil leaned into Andrew, and Andrew placed a hand on Neil’s waist, holding him close.

Aaron glanced at them but said nothing, his gaze returning to the fire.

After a few minutes of quiet, Katelyn broke the silence. “Neil, didn’t you forget something?”

Neil blinked, confused for a moment. Then his eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Right. Hold on.”

He stood and headed toward the car. A few moments later, he returned carrying a large, carefully wrapped box.

“What’s that?” Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neil set the box down on the ground and crouched to open it. “A present. From my uncle.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Neil ignored him as he reached into the box and pulled out a bottle of wine. It was dark, elegant, and unmistakably old.

“Chateau Lafite 1787,” Neil announced, holding the bottle up for everyone to see. “Apparently, it’s one of the most expensive wines in the world. Stuart thought it would be a fitting birthday gift for both of you.”

Aaron’s jaw dropped slightly. “Are you serious?”

Andrew tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “How much is that worth?”

Neil shrugged. “A lot. But Stuart’s a showoff, so it doesn’t surprise me.”

Aaron stared at the bottle, incredulous. “And you brought that camping?”

Neil smirked. “What’s the point of having something like this if you don’t drink it?”

Andrew snorted softly “Typical Stuart.”

Neil set the bottle down carefully and reached into the box again, pulling out four elegant wine glasses wrapped in tissue paper. “I figured we could share it tonight.”

Aaron still looked stunned, but Katelyn smiled warmly. “That sounds perfect.”

Andrew didn’t say anything, but Neil caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, both of you,” Neil said, looking between the twins.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Andrew reached out, took one of the glasses, and handed it to Neil. “Pour.”

Neil grinned and opened the bottle, the rich aroma of the wine wafting into the cool night air. As he poured the deep red liquid into the glasses, he felt a sense of contentment settle over him.

After the wine had been poured and everyone had their glasses in hand, Neil glanced over at Katelyn. She caught his look and gave a small, knowing nod.

“Before I forget again,” Neil began, setting his glass aside and standing. “Katelyn and I have one more surprise for you two.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow while Aaron looked mildly skeptical but said nothing.

Katelyn got up and walked over to the car, retrieving a small, carefully wrapped container. She carried it back to the fire and set it down gently on a flat rock near the flames. When she removed the cover, the smell of chocolate and vanilla wafted into the air.

“I made this for you,” Katelyn said, revealing a beautifully frosted cake with “Happy Birthday” written in delicate script across the top. Two candles, one for each twin, stood proudly in the center.

Aaron blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “You made that?”

Katelyn smiled. “Of course. I thought it would be nice to have something sweet for your birthday.”

Andrew’s gaze flicked to the cake, and though his expression remained neutral, Neil could tell he was impressed.

“And there’s one more thing,” Neil added, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket. He opened it to reveal two matching silver rings, simple yet elegant, with a subtle engraving of the letters “A” and “M” on the inside.

“They’re for both of you,” Neil said. “To match. You don’t have to wear them, but I thought it was... fitting.”

For a moment, neither twin spoke. Aaron stared at the rings, his mouth slightly open as if he didn’t know what to say. Andrew’s expression was as stoic as ever, but his eyes lingered on the rings a beat longer than usual.

“Thanks,” Aaron finally muttered, his voice gruff but sincere.

Andrew didn’t say anything, but he reached out and took one of the rings from the box, slipping it onto his finger without a word.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Aaron said, glancing between Katelyn and Neil.

“We wanted to,” Katelyn said simply.

Neil shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s no big deal. Besides, it’s your birthday. You deserve it.”

Andrew glanced at Neil, his hand still resting on the ring now snug on his finger. Though he didn’t say a word, the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

It wasn’t much, but Neil could tell that both twins were grateful in their own way.

“Now,” Neil said, pulling out a lighter from his pocket, “let’s light those candles before Andrew finds a reason to complain about the cake.”

Katelyn laughed, and even Aaron cracked a smile as Neil lit the candles. The group gathered around, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like things were just a little bit brighter.

The cake was nearly gone, the wine bottle was empty, and the atmosphere around the campfire had grown warmer, both literally and figuratively. The earlier tension had all but dissolved, leaving behind a sense of calm and tentative connection.

They sat in a loose circle, Katelyn leaning comfortably against Aaron while Neil was tucked under Andrew’s arm, Andrew’s hand casually resting on his waist.

“This was nice,” Katelyn said, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t think it would go so smoothly.”

Aaron gave her a look. “Did you think we were going to kill each other?”

Katelyn shrugged with a grin. “It crossed my mind.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

Neil chuckled and took a sip of water. Just as he set his cup down, Katelyn turned to him with an unexpected question.

"Hey, Neil," Katelyn began, her voice light but tinged with curiosity. She leaned forward slightly, as if debating whether to ask the question at all. "I hope this isn’t too personal, but… what’s your relationship with Andrew?"

Neil blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "What?"

Katelyn winced, already second-guessing herself. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I don’t mean to pry. It’s just… you and Andrew seem really close, and I was curious."

Silence stretched between them for a beat. Neil opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Andrew, waiting for his reaction.

Andrew exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, he answered before Neil could. "We’re dating." His voice was steady, matter-of-fact, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

Katelyn's eyes widened slightly before she nodded, taking the revelation in stride. "Oh," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "That makes sense. For what it’s worth,” Katelyn continued, “I’m bi.”

That caught Aaron’s attention. He glanced at her, his expression softening as he reached for her hand. “I didn’t know you were going to tell them that.”

“Why not?” Katelyn said with a smile. “They’re family now, aren’t they?”

Aaron hesitated, his gaze flicking between Katelyn, Neil, and Andrew. Finally, he spoke up. “I guess... I should say something too.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

Aaron let out a low sigh. "I mean… I’m happy for you, Andrew," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. His sharp gaze flickered to Neil before he added, "I don’t understand why him of all people, but if he makes you happy, then be with him."

Neil tensed at the words, unsure if he should feel insulted or indifferent. Andrew, however, only rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Aaron," he muttered dryly.

Katelyn let out a soft chuckle, and just like that, the tension in the air began to ease .She squeezed Aaron’s hand, her expression warm and proud. “See? You’re not so bad after all.”

Aaron rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

For the first time this evening, Neil felt like the group wasn’t just a patchwork of broken pieces forced together—they were becoming something real, something that might last.

Maybe there really was hope for the twins after all.

The morning after the camping trip, the group packed up their belongings in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It had been a successful trip in many ways, despite the initial tension, and the warmth of the bonfire seemed to linger in the air even as they broke down the campsite and gathered their things.

By around 1 p.m., they were back at the campus, unloading the car and stretching their legs after the long drive. The fresh air and the sounds of the forest still echoed in Neil’s mind, but reality was quickly settling in.

Nicky was the first to greet them as they arrived back, though his enthusiasm was nowhere to be found. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a pout on his lips. “You guys really had to go without me, huh?” he grumbled. “You could’ve at least told me you were planning on going, you know.”

Aaron didn’t even glance in Nicky’s direction, focusing instead on gathering the camping gear from the back of the car with Andrew, who had a stony look on his face.

Neil sighed, shaking his head with a half-smile. “You know it’s not like that, Nicky,” he said, stepping forward to address him. “Next time, I promise, you’ll come with us.”

“Yeah, right,” Nicky muttered, but his tone had softened. Neil wasn’t entirely sure he believed him, but the offer was genuine.

Andrew, who had been silent up until that point, gave Nicky a quick, sideways glance. He didn’t say anything, but there was something in his eyes—something soft that was rare for him.

They gathered their things and made their way inside, the awkward silence broken only by the rustling of bags and the faint sounds of other students in the hall.

Chapter Text

The day began with the usual chaos that followed any plan involving Andrew’s group. Their first stop was Exites in Columbia, a sports shop that catered to Exy players and enthusiasts alike. Kevin had been insistent that Neil needed a heavier racquet, and no amount of protesting from Aaron or Neil could dissuade him.

“You’ll thank me when your strikes have more power and precision,” Kevin said, leading the way into the store with an air of authority.

“I’ll thank you when you stop trying to micromanage my life,” Neil muttered, trailing behind with Andrew and Aaron.

Nicky followed close behind, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Oh, come on, you guys! It’s just a racquet. Let Kevin live his dreams of being your Exy coach.”

Neil gave him a deadpan look. “I already have a coach, and he’s annoying enough as it is.”

Andrew, as usual, said nothing, but there was a faint hint of amusement in his expression as he trailed slightly behind Neil.

Inside the shop, Kevin wasted no time. He launched into an intense conversation with the salesperson about weight, balance, and grip sizes. Aaron leaned against a display of helmets, his expression one of complete exasperation.

“This is pointless,” Aaron grumbled, crossing his arms. “Neil’s going to need weeks to adjust to a heavier racquet. He’s been playing with light ones.”

“That’s exactly why this is necessary,” Kevin shot back without missing a beat. “His potential is wasted on lightweight garbage. When mastered, a heavier racquet will give him more control and power.”

Nicky grabbed a nearby racquet and mimicked Kevin’s exaggerated tone. “And with the power of this mighty racquet, Neil will lead us to Exy glory!” He struck a dramatic pose, earning a glare from Kevin and a snort from Aaron.

Neil let out a sigh and turned to Andrew. “Do you think Kevin ever gets tired of being insufferable?”

Andrew didn’t bother to reply, though Neil caught a faint twitch of his lips that might have been the ghost of a smirk.

After a few more minutes of Kevin’s rambling, Neil had had enough. He dug his card out of his wallet and handed it to Andrew. “Pay for it. I’m getting some air before I lose my mind,” he said, heading for the door.

Outside, Neil lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, letting the nicotine calm his nerves. The cool November air bit at his skin, but he didn’t mind. It gave him a moment to clear his head before the impending trip to the Hemmicks’ household.

He was finishing his cigarette when the others emerged from the shop. Kevin was holding a sleek black racquet that looked like it belonged in a professional league, his expression triumphant. Andrew handed Neil’s card back without a word.

Kevin shot Neil a disapproving look as he caught sight of the cigarette. “That’s going to kill you.” he muttered, his tone sharp.

Neil raised an eyebrow, exhaling smoke in Kevin’s direction just to annoy him. “And yet, here I am. Still breathing.”

Nicky laughed, clapping Neil on the back. “Dear God! Lighten up, Kev!”

Andrew slid into the driver’s seat without comment, and Aaron climbed into the back with a loud sigh. Nicky, ever the optimist, hopped in the back, chattering about how excited he was to see his family.

“This is going to be great. I am sure!” Nicky said, practically bouncing in his seat. “Mom’s been cooking all day, and I swear, Neil, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried her apple pie.”

The drive to the Hemmicks’ household was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the silence. Kevin was still sulking over Neil’s smoking, Aaron looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and Andrew was as unreadable as ever and Nicky was trying to hide his anxiety with his jokes.

Neil interrupted one of Nicky’s jokes. “So, what’s the over-under on this being a complete disaster?”

Andrew didn’t look away from the road. “Guaranteed disaster.” he said, his tone flat.

Aaron let out a humorless laugh. “I give it an hour before Luther says something stupid and Andrew threatens to gut him.”

Neil smirked, leaning back in his seat. “I guess we’ll see.”

The atmosphere was tense but lightened by Nicky’s endless optimism. Whatever awaited them at the Hemmicks’ household, they’d face it together—or at least try to survive it without killing anyone.

It wasn’t far to Nicky’s old house. The Hemmicks lived in a two-story home in the suburbs of southern Columbia. From the outside, the house looked perfect. The lawn was vibrant green and neatly trimmed, the cars in the driveway were new and clean, and the house was a pale blue with dark shutters. It looked like an ordinary middle-class home, yet it held a history that made Nicky shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Nicky drummed his fingers on the seatbelt, his nerves visibly frayed. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Oh, now he says it,” Andrew muttered as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. “Too late.”

Neil followed, glancing at Nicky as he hesitated on the porch. The others joined them, Aaron looking annoyed, Kevin as stiff as always, and Andrew exuding his usual indifference. Nicky stood silent and still on the porch for almost a full minute before finally ringing the doorbell. As soon as he did, he retreated to the edge of the porch, putting as much space between himself and the door as he could.

Maria Hemmick opened the door. Neil could see the resemblance between her and Nicky in an instant.

“Why did you ring the doorbell?” she asked in lieu of hello.

“This isn’t my house anymore,” Nicky reminded her, his voice clipped.

She pursed her lips but didn’t argue. She stepped aside, holding the door open so they could move out of the cold and into the much warmer front hall. The air smelled of roasted chicken and something sweet, a façade of normalcy that didn’t match the tension Neil could feel emanating from Nicky.

Maria closed the door behind them and turned to face her guests. Neil and Kevin were now the closest ones to her. There was no recognition in her stare when she considered them, but she nodded a polite greeting.

“You must be Kevin and Neil,” she said. “I’m Maria.”

Kevin put on one of his public-friendly smiles, his posture radiating politeness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her gaze shifted to the twins next, but her eyes skipped over Aaron entirely. She smiled at Andrew and said, “Aaron, it’s been a long time.”

“Aaron,” Aaron corrected, his tone flat.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, her smile tightening. She added quickly, “You can leave your coats here.” She gestured toward a narrow door to her right, revealing a closet lined with a dozen-odd spare hangers.

Maria watched them hang their coats up, then beckoned for them to follow her. “Right this way.”

“Can’t you even tell your own nephews—” Nicky started, but the rest of his question was swallowed as they entered the kitchen and spotted Luther Hemmick.

Luther was a tall, rake-thin man with a severe face. His remaining hair was streaked with gray, and he kept his peppered beard trimmed short and neat. Even across the room, Neil could see the tense set of his shoulders. Luther wasn’t looking forward to this reunion any more than Nicky was.

Neil hoped the tension in Luther’s posture meant he was uncomfortable with his own outdated views. Maybe there was hope for change.

Maria busied herself at the stove, pretending to check on dinner. She seemed eager to keep herself out of the interaction. Luther didn’t look at her, his focus fixed on the group of guests. His expression remained impassive as he inspected Neil and Kevin. When his gaze lingered on Andrew, Neil found it odd. The scrutiny was subtle but noticeable, enough that Neil decided to intervene.

Taking a step forward, Neil extended his hand. “Neil Hatford. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hemmick.”

Luther’s handshake was firm but brief. His focus shifted quickly back to Nicky, Andrew, and Aaron. “Nicky,” Luther said. “Aaron, Andrew.”

Nicky had gone mute, his jaw tight. It was Aaron who finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Hey, Uncle Luther.”

Luther’s smile was faint, more a flicker than a genuine expression. “Please get comfortable. Dinner will only be another minute.”

Nicky led them to the back porch. The space was enclosed with half walls and a thin mesh, keeping most of the November breeze out while allowing a clear view of the backyard. Heat lamps at every corner provided a surprising amount of warmth, making it more comfortable here than inside the tense kitchen.

The table was set for eight, with three chairs on each side and a seat at either end. Judging by the lacy handkerchief at one end, Maria and Luther would take the end seats, spreading their guests out between them.

Nicky slid into a middle seat on one side, leaving a chair between himself and either of his parents. Aaron hesitated but eventually sat between Nicky and where Maria would sit. Kevin and Neil herded Andrew to the other side, slotting him between them. Neil sat closest to Luther, and Kevin positioned himself near Maria’s chair, keeping Andrew buffered between them.

The seating arrangement felt strategic, as though everyone was trying to brace themselves for what the meal might bring.

As the door to the porch creaked open and Maria appeared with a platter of food, Neil glanced at Nicky. His cousin’s hands were clenched into fists on his lap, and his usual humor was nowhere to be seen.

Neil leaned back in his chair, glancing at Andrew beside him. “This should be interesting,” he murmured under his breath.

Andrew didn’t respond, but his eyes flicked briefly to Neil, a silent acknowledgment.

The tension in the room was suffocating, but the night was just beginning.

It took Luther and Maria three trips to bring out all the food. Each dish was arranged with precision, their presentation hinting at an effort to impress, or perhaps distract. As soon as everyone was seated, Luther and Maria bowed their heads.

Neil hesitated, his fork hovering uncertainly over his plate. It wasn’t until Luther’s quiet voice began to recite a prayer that Neil understood what was happening. He suppressed a groan, suddenly acutely aware of how out of place he was. On his left, Andrew wasn’t even pretending to pray, his posture openly defiant. On Neil’s other side, Kevin had his head bowed, hands folded in polite compliance.

Luther had to notice Andrew’s complete disregard, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he’d learned by now not to expect respect from Andrew. When the prayer ended, Luther straightened in his chair and began serving food from the nearest platter, a cue for the others to follow.

Neil waited for a space in the passing of dishes but noticed Luther watching his idleness.

“Are you religious?” Luther asked.

“No,” Neil said plainly.

Luther waited, clearly expecting Neil to elaborate, but Neil offered nothing more. The silence stretched uncomfortably until Luther’s expression darkened with disapproval. “Why not?” he pressed.

Neil met his gaze evenly. “I’d rather not get into it. I don’t want to start a fight.”

Andrew interrupted “That’s a first. You’re usually so opinionated.”

“I don’t see how such a question constitutes a fight,” Luther said, turning his focus back to Neil.

“Is that really the question you want to start with, Dad?” Nicky interrupted before Neil could reply. His voice was sharp with frustration. “You don’t want to ask how we’ve been, how school’s going, or how the season is going? We had a game in Florida yesterday. We won, you know.”

“Congratulations,” Luther said automatically, the word empty and perfunctory.

“Yeah, you sound like you mean it,” Nicky said, his tone tinged with sadness rather than anger.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Nicky tried to lighten it with a half-hearted question. “When did you repaint the kitchen?”

“Two years ago,” Maria answered quickly, seizing the opportunity for neutral conversation. “The contractor goes to our church. It looks nice, doesn’t it?”

Nicky nodded mutely, and Maria turned to him with forced enthusiasm. “So, what are you studying, Nicholas?”

“Marketing,” Nicky said. “Erik’s cousin works for a PR firm in Stuttgart. She thinks she can get me in after graduation if I make the right grades.”

“You’re going back to Germany?” Maria asked, her voice startled. She shot a nervous glance at Luther.

Nicky’s jaw tightened, but he answered without flinching. “Yes. Erik’s career is there. I wouldn’t ask him to leave it just for me, and I wouldn’t want him to, anyway. I loved living in Germany. It’s an amazing place. You should visit us sometime.”

“Us,” Maria repeated faintly, her voice faltering. “You’re still…”

She couldn’t finish, so Nicky did it for her. “Yes, we’re still together. I came back to take care of Andrew and Aaron, not because things went sour with Erik. I love him, okay? I always have, and I always will. When are you going to get that?”

“When will you accept that it is wrong?” Luther interjected, his voice cold and unyielding. “Homosexuality is—”

Neil’s sudden laugh cut him off. It wasn’t a loud laugh, but it was sharp and incredulous enough to make everyone pause. All eyes turned to him, and Neil didn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“Something funny?” Luther asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Neil leaned back in his chair, casually resting his elbows on the armrests. “I just find it ironic, that’s all.”

“Ironic?” Luther repeated.

Neil gestured lazily around the table. “You’re so worked up about Nicky and Erik, but do you even realize how common this is? On our team, practically everyone is either attracted to the same gender or both.”

Luther blinked, visibly taken aback. Maria’s hand flew to her mouth, her expression a mixture of shock and horror.

Andrew’s amusement grew. “Oh, yeah. Neil’s right. It’s not even a big deal anymore. Luther, you’re living in the past.”

“That’s not true,” Luther said firmly, his composure cracking just slightly.

“It is,” Neil said, his tone calm but unrelenting. “I mean, what do you think happens when you throw a bunch of young, competitive, and emotionally bonded athletes into the same space day in and day out? People connect. They fall for each other. That’s reality, not whatever outdated rules you’re clinging to.”

Luther’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might explode. But instead, he took a deep breath and said, “That doesn’t make it right.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Andrew said, spearing a piece of meat with his fork.

Nicky looked torn between exasperation and gratitude. “Can we not do this?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t come here to fight.” Luther frowned, but before he could respond, Maria raised a calming hand. “Let’s eat,” she said gently. “This kind of conversation is too difficult on an empty stomach. We’ll eat and try again. Then we can reward our efforts with dessert. There’s pie in the oven. Apple, Nicholas. It used to be your favorite.”

It was a meager peace offering, but Nicky latched onto it, nodding as he picked up his fork. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the clink of silverware against plates.

Finally, Aaron spoke, his voice quiet but steady as he asked about people and places from their past. It was a neutral topic, easy for Luther and Maria to engage with, and it gave Nicky a chance to gather himself.

For now, the storm of emotions had calmed, but it wouldn’t hold for long.

Toward the end of dinner, Andrew stood abruptly and headed inside without a word. Luther pushed back his chair moments later, his gaze fixed on Andrew as he excused himself and followed.

Neil’s instincts prickled. He didn’t trust Luther—certainly not alone with Andrew. When Neil moved to follow them, Maria’s hand shot out to grab his arm.

“Neil,” she said sharply. “Let them talk. It’s private.”

Neil shrugged her off, his expression as hard as steel. “Get out of my way or I will make you.” he said with cold voice. Maria paled as she let go, letting him walk away.

Inside, the house was quieter than the patio. Neil spotted the closed door of what he assumed was a study or a small sitting room. He didn’t need to hear the conversation to know he didn’t want Luther cornering Andrew, but he respected Andrew’s independence enough not to interfere directly. Instead, he leaned against the hallway wall just out of view and waited.

It wasn’t long before the door flung open with a sharp creak. Andrew stepped out, his expression carefully blank but his movements sharp, his jaw tight. His gaze landed on Neil immediately.

Neil raised a finger to his lips, silently asking for discretion. He gave a faint nod and, with a purposeful stride, headed upstairs.

Neil followed him quietly, waiting until they were far enough from Luther to speak. They stopped in a hallway upstairs, where the noise of the dinner conversation below faded to a murmur.

“What did he want?” Neil asked, his voice low but firm.

Andrew’s mask didn’t slip, but his eyes flickered with something Neil couldn’t quite place. “Nothing important,” Andrew said simply.

Neil frowned, unconvinced. “If it’s not important, why’d you leave in such a hurry?”

Andrew exhaled through his nose and gestured toward a nearby door. “He said there’s a bottle of whiskey for me in the guest room.”

Neil arched an eyebrow. “Whiskey? Seriously? What’s the catch?”

“Probably arsenic,” he said, deadpan.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Neil said immediately.

Andrew hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They moved down the hall together, their footsteps muffled on the thick carpet.

As Andrew opened the guest room door, someone surged from the shadows. The glint of a whiskey bottle caught the light an instant before it shattered against Andrew’s head. The impact sent Andrew crumpling to the floor, dazed and bleeding.

Neil’s heart stuttered, but his body moved on instinct. The assailant, a tall and broad man with dark hair and eyes, barely had time to process Andrew’s fall before Neil launched himself forward.

Without hesitation, Neil drove a hard shove into the man’s face. The stranger stumbled back, disoriented, and hit the floor with a heavy thud. Neil didn’t waste the advantage—he leapt onto the man, pinning him beneath his weight, and drew the knife he always kept concealed at his side. The cold steel pressed against the man’s throat.

The man blinked in shock before his features twisted in rage. He thrashed against Neil’s hold, but Neil’s grip was iron. He’d fought bigger men before, and he wasn’t about to lose to this one.

The man managed to get a hand free, reaching for Neil’s arm to try to dislodge him. Neil twisted sharply, locking the man’s arm in place with his knee and driving his forearm harder against the man’s chest.

“Stay down,” Neil hissed, his voice low and deadly.

The man froze for a moment, his eyes darting wildly as if calculating his chances. Neil didn’t give him any room to decide—he reached for the edge of the bed with one hand, yanking the sheet free in a sharp pull.

In a swift, practiced motion, Neil looped the fabric around the man’s wrists and pulled tight. The man growled and bucked against the restraints, but Neil quickly secured his legs as well.

When he was certain the man was immobilized, Neil stepped back, his breathing heavy. His eyes flicked to Andrew, who was stirring on the floor, one hand pressed to his head.

“Andrew,” Neil said, his voice softer now. He crouched beside him, checking the wound. “You okay?”

Andrew pushed himself off the floor, one hand still pressed to his bleeding head. His gaze landed on the restrained man, and his entire body stiffened. Blood drained from his face, leaving him pale as a ghost.

Neil caught the change immediately. Andrew’s calm façade cracked, replaced by something raw and unsettled. “Andrew?” Neil asked, his voice sharp with concern. “Do you know him?”

Andrew swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the man. “That’s Drake Spear.”

The name struck Neil like a thunderclap. Drake Spear. He didn’t need to ask Andrew to elaborate. The moment the name left Andrew’s lips, Neil remembered Higgins’s words—the investigation into Richard Spear was dead end. The Spears' foster children hadn’t dared to implicate anyone until Higgins turned his sights on Drake. Neil recalled how Andrew had thrown Higgins out of South Carolina the second Drake’s name was mentioned.

And now, here was Drake, in the flesh.

Before Neil could say anything, a voice as venomous as it was mocking broke the heavy silence.

“Andy,” Drake drawled, his tone thick with contempt and familiarity. “I missed you so much. Didn’t you miss me? I think you do, you even brought friend with you.”

Andrew flinched, the sound of that voice like nails on a chalkboard. Neil saw the shock and pain flicker across Andrew’s face, saw the tightly wound coil of rage and fear in his posture.

Neil didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in two strides, his knife once again at Drake’s throat. The blade pressed hard enough to draw a bead of blood, and the smug look Drake wore evaporated.

“Don’t. Speak. To him,” Neil growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Drake stared up at him, the beginnings of a smirk faltering as he registered the cold fury in Neil’s eyes. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He had no idea who this lean, unassuming man was, but in that moment, he could tell he’d made a fatal miscalculation.

Neil’s dark, unrelenting gaze bore into him, and Drake shifted, trying to escape the pressure of the blade at his throat.

“You don’t talk to him. You don’t look at him,” Neil continued, his voice steady and terrifyingly calm. “You don’t even breathe in his direction unless I say you can. Do you understand me?”

Drake’s lips parted, but Neil pressed the blade harder, cutting him off.

“I said, do you understand me?” Neil demanded, his tone dropping lower, colder.

Drake nodded, his arrogance crumbling into genuine fear.

Satisfied, Neil leaned in closer, his voice a deadly whisper. “You think you know fear, but you’ve got no idea. You hurt him—God only knows how much—and now you’ve come back. But let me make this clear: you won’t get another chance.”

Andrew, still frozen, finally found his voice. “Neil…”

Neil didn’t look back, but his tone softened slightly. “It’s okay, Andrew. I’ve got him.”

Drake’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, pinned beneath Neil’s unwavering grip. For the first time in years, he wasn’t the one in control, and the realization shook him to his core.

“You’re going to sit there, quiet and still, until I decide what to do with you,” Neil said, as he put a part of the sheets in Drake’s mouth.

Just as Neil was about to make a call, the sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs. Luther and the others appeared at the top, Maria, Nicky, and Kevin staying outside the room, uncertain of what was happening. Aaron, having spotted Andrew’s injury, rushed to his side, his eyes filled with concern.

"Andrew, you’re bleeding!" Aaron exclaimed, kneeling down beside him. Andrew barely seemed to register the pain, still too stunned by the sudden attack.

Luther’s eyes went straight to Drake, but before he could move toward him, Neil stepped forward, blocking his path with a firm hand.

“Stay back,” Neil growled, his voice low and dangerous, eyes still locked on Drake.

Luther hesitated but then spoke, his tone defensive. “I have to help him. He’s—”

Neil cut him off, his voice sharpening. “Did you know Drake was here?”

Luther’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, as if realizing there was no point in hiding it, he nodded reluctantly.

“Drake called me,” Luther admitted, his voice strained. “He wanted to make amends with Andrew. He said… he was sorry for the past.”

Neil’s anger flared like an explosion. He was done with calm words. With no warning, he grabbed Luther by the collar and shoved him forcefully against the wall. The impact rattled the plaster, and Luther gasped, his eyes wide with surprise. Neil pressed a knife to Luther’s Adam’s apple, his grip tightening with each passing second.

Luther’s breath quickened as he looked at him. For a long moment, there was silence—until Neil smiled, a cold, calculating smile. Luther tried to hold his gaze, but his hands were shaking, his voice barely a whisper.

“Did you know,” Neil said in a low, menacing tone, “what Drake really did to Andrew? To the other kids? Did you know the damage he caused and what you’ve been protecting this whole time?”

Luther remained silent, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe properly, but Neil could see it in his eyes. The fear was creeping in. And Neil knew what that fear was based on.

“You knew,” Neil said, his voice taking on a quiet edge of disgust. “You knew everything. And still, you protected him. For what? For your own selfish believes?”

Luther tried to say something, but the words stuck in his throat, his face twisted in guilt.

Neil’s smile grew, colder, sharper. He leaned in closer, his voice almost a whisper. “You know, Luther, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the people I’ve come across. And I know a lot of ways to break someone. I could break every bone in your body, make you feel pain you didn’t think was possible. I could start with your ribs. Or your fingers. Or maybe your kneecaps. I could make you wish you were never born.”

Luther’s eyes widened as Neil spoke, a chill running through him. His voice trembled as he tried to form words. “You can’t—”

“Can’t I?” Neil interrupted, the knife pressing even harder against Luther’s neck. “I think you’ll find I’m very good at what I do.”

For a long moment, Neil didn’t move. Luther’s silence only fueled his rage.

“I’ve lived through worse than you’ll ever know,” Neil continued. “And if you’re thinking for even a second that you’ll get away with this, think again. You’ve failed Andrew. You’ve failed every kid you turned your back on. And for what?” Neil’s voice was dripping with contempt now, his grip on the knife steady.

Luther’s silence was deafening, his face pale as he processed what was happening.

Neil took a slow step back, keeping the knife in place. “You know what disgusts me the most?” he asked, his voice almost eerily calm. “That you didn’t even care. You let him into your home, into your life, after everything he did. And you think you deserve forgiveness?”

Luther’s face contorted in shame, but still, he remained silent, unable to answer.

Neil’s eyes burned with fury, and his smile remained twisted. “You’ll answer for this, Luther. But not tonight.”

Neil stood in the center of the room, the tension thick in the air. His phone was still warm in his hand after calling Liam, and the weight of the situation hung heavily over the room like a storm ready to break. Aaron was kneeling beside Andrew, trying to tend to his injuries, while Kevin looked sickened, his face pale and his hands trembling. Nicky, on the other hand, was a wreck, tears streaming down his face as he silently looked at the floor. Luther and Maria stood off to the side, silent and motionless, as if they were waiting for some sign of what would come next.

Neil took a deep breath, his eyes sweeping over the room as he tried to get his bearings. His voice broke the stillness.

“Kevin, call the coach,” Neil said, his tone cold and firm. “Tell him what happened. Make sure he knows everything, and that we’ll be handling the rest. No one else can know about this.”

Kevin nodded shakily, fumbling for his phone. His voice cracked as he spoke into the receiver, clearly struggling to keep himself together. Neil’s eyes moved to Aaron next, who was still helping Andrew, his face tight with worry.

“Aaron, take Andrew and Nicky downstairs,” Neil instructed. “Make sure they’re safe. Don’t let them out of your sight. Don’t leave until I say so.”

Aaron nodded silently, helping Andrew to his feet as Nicky followed closely behind him, his face still wet with tears. As they moved past him, Neil’s gaze locked onto the two silent figures remaining in the room—Luther and Maria.

The room seemed to freeze as Neil’s dark, unyielding gaze fell on them. He took a step forward, his posture rigid, his face set in a mask of cold fury.

“I need to make something clear to both of you,” Neil began, his voice low and menacing. “Not a word about this to anyone. Not a single person. If you so much as breathe a word to anyone about what happened here tonight, I will make sure you regret it. You’ll find yourselves dead before you even have the chance to blink.”

Luther and Maria both flinched at the venom in his voice, their eyes widening in fear. Neil took another step closer, his voice turning colder.

“Don’t contact Nicky, don’t contact the twins,” he continued, his words clipped and sharp. “You will stay out of their lives from now on. I don’t care if you think you can fix things with them, because that time has passed.”

Maria opened her mouth to protest, but Neil didn’t even flinch. He raised a finger, silencing her with a single motion.

“Go to your room,” he said, the command like steel. “Don’t come out until we’re gone. If you so much as peek out that door, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Luther and Maria exchanged a brief, uneasy glance, but it didn’t take long for them to realize there would be no argument. They both nodded stiffly, their faces pale, and retreated into the room down the hall without another word.

Neil stood in the doorway, watching them leave with a cold, hard expression. He waited for the sound of the door closing behind them before he let out a long, slow breath. His hands were still shaking, but not from fear. He could feel his rage still simmering beneath the surface, but now he had control.

He turned to look back at the others. The room was still tense, but at least the immediate threat was dealt with. He turned to Drake and decided that he wasn’t needed conscious so he kicked his head effectively knocking him out.

The sound of the door creaking open echoed through the quiet room as Liam and the others stepped inside. Neil looked up, his expression hardening once more. Liam, a tall and imposing figure, led a small group of men, each carrying themselves with the same quiet intensity Neil had come to expect from those under Stuart’s command. Behind them was a medic, a woman Neil trusted implicitly.

“Take him to the base,” Neil ordered, his voice cold and sharp. “Keep him there. Don’t let anyone get to him until I’m ready to deal with him.”

Liam nodded, his eyes scanning the room for confirmation. "Understood. What about his relatives?"

“Fake his death,” Neil said, his gaze never leaving Liam’s. “Make sure it's convincing. I don’t want any loose ends.”

Liam nodded again, and with the two other men in tow, they moved to the room where Drake was being held. Neil didn’t look back as they left. His focus shifted, the weight of what had just transpired heavy on his shoulders.

He turned to the medic standing at the door, her expression calm and professional. Her name was Violet. After Abby, she was the only one Neil trusted enough to handle Andrew’s injuries. He gestured toward the stairs, and without waiting for her to speak, he gave the order.

“Violet, come with me. I need you to check Andrew.”

Before they left, Neil looked at the others.

“You,” he said to the remaining men, his voice carrying an edge. “Clean up the mess. Destroy the evidence. We don’t leave traces.”

The men nodded silently, moving to follow their orders. Neil and Violet descended the stairs, moving swiftly but quietly, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

When they reached the bottom, the scene in the living room was tense, but not as chaotic as it had been. Andrew, Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky were gathered together. Kevin looked at Neil as they entered, relief flickering across his face.

“The coach is coming to pick us up,” Kevin said, his voice unsteady, but trying to remain composed.

Neil gave a curt nod. “Good. We’ll be out of here soon.”

His attention shifted to Andrew, who was sitting on the edge of a chair, looking worn and shaken but managing to hold himself together. Neil’s heart clenched at the sight, but he forced his focus to stay on the task at hand.

“Andrew,” Neil said softly, moving toward him. “Can I take your hand?”

Andrew’s eyes flickered, but he nodded quietly, his hand extending slightly. Neil gently took his hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. Then, turning to Violet, he introduced her in the same soft tone.

“This is Violet,” he said. “She’s a doctor, and you can trust her. She’ll take care of you.”

Andrew didn’t say anything at first, just nodded, though his trust in Neil was clear. Violet moved to kneel in front of him, pulling a small medical kit from her bag. She was efficient, professional, and calm as she worked, examining the injury on Andrew’s head.

Neil watched, standing close enough to offer silent support but not intrude. Violet quickly checked the wound, carefully moving Andrew’s hair away from the cut. She hummed thoughtfully for a moment, her fingers gentle as she worked.

“It’s a bit deep, but it’s not serious.” Violet said, her voice quiet and reassuring. “It’ll need some cleaning and stiches though.”

Neil’s shoulders sagged with relief, though the tension in the room still lingered. He squeezed Andrew’s hand lightly, a gesture of comfort.

“Thank you, Violet,” Neil said quietly.

Violet gave a small, professional smile. “No problem. He’s going to be okay.”

Neil nodded, but there was no smile on his face. His mind was already elsewhere, already preparing for the next steps.

“Get some rest, Andrew,” Neil said softly, still holding his hand. “We’ll be out of here soon. Just let Violet finish up, and we’ll go from there.”

Andrew nodded silently, his grip loosening but still remaining steady in Neil’s hand. For now, at least, he was safe. But Neil couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of what was to come.

Chapter Text

The Hemmick household was eerily quiet, save for the faint rustle of Violet packing her medical kit and the occasional whispered reassurances exchanged between Nicky and Aaron. Kevin stood by the window, his face pale, looking like he might be sick. Neil glanced at him but didn’t speak. He had other priorities now.

Neil checked his phone. Stuart’s text came through just moments ago: “Liam has updated me. Handle what you must. We’ll talk soon.”

The words were reassuring enough. Liam would do his part. Drake Spear was out of this house and wouldn’t resurface—not unless Neil wanted him to.

Neil turned his attention back to Andrew. He was sitting straighter now, some color returning to his face. His defiance was back in his eyes, but the vulnerability lingered in the edges of his expression, visible only to those who knew him well. Neil knelt in front of him again, careful to maintain the calm energy Andrew needed.

“How are you feeling?” Neil asked softly.

Andrew scoffed, but his voice was weaker than usual. “Like I’ve had a long day.”

Neil smirked faintly, then stood, pulling his phone from his pocket. “You’re not going to have to deal with him again.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.

Nicky, however, wasn’t as composed. His tears had slowed, but his face was red, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I-I can’t believe this. They knew. They let him here.” He glanced toward the stairs, where his parents were presumably hiding away in their room. “How could they—how could they—”

Aaron put a hand on Nicky’s shoulder, squeezing firmly. “They don’t deserve your time, Nicky. You’re better than them.”

Nicky sniffled, nodding weakly, but his eyes were hollow. Neil knew that look. He’d worn it himself, years ago, when he’d learned the depths of his father’s cruelty. It wasn’t something that faded easily.

Neil checked his watch. Wymack would arrive soon. Good. The sooner they were out of this house, the better. He turned to Violet.

“Stay close to Andrew,” Neil instructed. “I’m going to make sure everything’s ready.”

Violet nodded, her professional demeanor unwavering. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Neil moved toward the hallway, passing Kevin on his way. “You good?”

Kevin nodded but didn’t turn from the window. “I just want to leave.”

“Same,” Neil muttered.

When the sound of tires crunching gravel reached Neil’s ears, he headed for the front door. Wymack stepped out of his car, his expression sharp as he surveyed the house. He looked at Neil with a frown.

“What the hell happened here?” Wymack demanded, his voice low but forceful.

Neil blocked the doorway with his body, keeping Wymack from entering. “It’s under control,” he said evenly.

“That’s not an answer,” Wymack replied, narrowing his eyes. He glanced over Neil’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of Kevin standing by the window, pale and shaken. “Who’s hurt?”

Neil’s expression didn’t waver. “Andrew, but it’s handled.”

Wymack leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Handled? I’m going to need more than that. Did someone attack him? Should I be calling the police?

“No police,” Neil said firmly. His voice was cold, his tone final. “This isn’t their jurisdiction. The problem’s been removed. Drake Spear won’t come near him again.”

Wymack’s expression darkened at the name, and for a moment, Neil thought he might push further. But then Wymack sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

“Better than they would,” Neil replied. His eyes didn’t leave Wymack’s. “We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready.”

Wymack hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But we’re talking about this when we’re back. You don’t get to play lone wolf when it affects my team.”

Neil didn’t respond, stepping aside to let Wymack enter. The coach took one look at the tense faces of the others—Nicky’s red eyes, Aaron’s grim silence, Kevin’s pale complexion—and muttered under his breath.

“Grab your things,” Wymack said aloud. “We’re leaving now.”

The drive back to their campus was tense and quiet. Andrew and Aaron sat together, with Andrew leaning slightly against his brother’s shoulder. Kevin was in the passenger seat, his usual sharp wit dulled by exhaustion. Neil drove, his grip on the wheel tight, his mind racing with thoughts of what came next.

When they finally arrived at the dorms, Neil helped Andrew to his room, Aaron close behind. Once Andrew was settled, Violet gave him one last check before quietly excusing herself. Neil followed her into the hallway.

“Thank you,” Neil said, his voice low.

Violet nodded, her expression serious. “You should watch him, something like this leaves marks.”

“I know,” Neil said, and for a moment, his mask slipped, a flicker of pain and rage crossing his face. “I’ll take care of him.”

Violet didn’t push further, simply nodding again before leaving. Neil returned to Andrew’s room to find Aaron sitting by his twin, flipping idly through his phone while Andrew stared at the ceiling.

Neil sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to catch Andrew’s gaze. “If you want to talk—”

“I don’t,” Andrew interrupted.

Neil didn’t press him. Instead, he reached out, his hand resting lightly on Andrew’s arm. It was enough for now.

Later that night, Neil sat in his room, staring at his phone. Stuart’s number was at the top of his call log. He should report in, but the weight of the day made him hesitate. Instead, he flipped through his contacts until he landed on Liam’s name. He pressed “call.”

It rang once before Liam picked up. “Neil.”

“Is he secure?” Neil asked.

“Locked up tight,” Callum replied. “No one’s getting to him without your say.”

“Good,” Neil said, exhaling deeply. He stared at the wall, his voice dropping into something colder. “Keep him alive. I’ll deal with him when I can. Meanwhile you know what to do.”

Liam hesitated. “And if he tries anything?”

“Make sure he regrets it,” Neil said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Liam agreed, and Neil hung up. The room was silent again, but Neil’s mind was anything but quiet.

Tonight, as he lay in the dark, he allowed himself a single thought: Drake Spear wasn’t going to walk away from this.

The next afternoon, Neil sat stiffly in one of the armchairs in Bee’s cozy office. The room was warm and inviting, filled with soft lighting and shelves lined with books. None of it made him feel any less out of place. Across from him, Bee waited patiently, her hands folded in her lap, her expression calm and understanding.

Neil hated it.

He didn’t know what Wymack expected from this session, but he had his suspicions. After everything that had happened, Wymack probably thought Bee could help them all process things. Neil wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t even sure why he was here—other than the fact that Wymack had told him he’d be in Bee’s office at three o’clock, no arguments.

Neil perched on the edge of the chair in Bee’s office, his muscles coiled so tightly it felt like they might snap. His nails dug into his knees, his grip the only thing anchoring him, keeping him from unraveling completely. The soft hum of the heater, the faint scent of chamomile—none of it touched the storm raging inside his chest.

Bee watched him, quiet and composed, her patience only stoking the fire burning in his veins. He hated it. Hated how she just waited, like she had all the time in the world, like she didn’t see the way he was barely holding himself together.

"Neil," she said finally, her voice gentle. "Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

Neil scoffed, sharp and bitter. "How I'm feeling?" His voice was edged with something raw, something barely restrained. "I feel like I want to walk out that door."

Bee didn’t react, didn’t flinch. "I understand," she said evenly. "But maybe we can talk about why you feel that way."

His jaw clenched. "Because this is useless." His voice was a razor’s edge, each word cutting through the air between them. "Talking doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix anything."

"It doesn’t change what happened," Bee agreed. "But it might help you understand it."

A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. His hands curled into fists, white-knuckled. "I already understand it. I failed. That’s all there is to it."

Bee tilted her head, studying him with that maddening calmness. "What makes you think that?"

Neil let out a sharp breath, running a hand over his face before he leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. "Because it’s obvious. We went to that house because I was too stupid to say no to Nicky, too arrogant to let Andrew’s first answer be enough. I thought I could handle everything. I thought I could keep him safe." His throat tightened. "But I couldn’t. He got hurt. And that’s on me."

Bee's unwavering expression only made his anger burn hotter. He wanted her to argue, to challenge him, to fight him. Anything but this steady, suffocating patience.

"Andrew made his own choice to go," Bee said, gentle but firm.

Neil's fury ignited. "Because I forced him into that position!" He shot up from the chair, pacing the small room like a caged animal, his movements sharp and frantic. "Do you really think he wanted to go back there? That he wanted to see them again?" His breath came fast, uneven. "I dragged him into it because I thought I knew better."

Bee remained steady. "It sounds like you’re carrying a lot of guilt."

"Of course I am!" The words exploded from him, his voice nearly breaking. His hands clenched at his sides as he spun to face her, his eyes burning. "He got hurt because of me. That bastard put his hands on him because of me. He had to see his abuser again because of me" His breath hitched. "Do you have any idea what that feels like?" His voice cracked, raw and unfiltered. "Knowing you failed someone who trusted you?"

Bee met his gaze, unwavering. "I think you’re being too hard on yourself."

Neil laughed, sharp and empty. "I am not hard enough," he muttered. "I let him down! I let everyone down… that’s what I do." He swallowed hard, his voice dropping into something barely above a whisper. "I always ruin everything."

The confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. He turned away, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping himself together.

Bee's voice was soft but insistent. "Neil, do you think Andrew blames you?"

He froze.

The memory crashed into him—the way Andrew had leaned into Aaron afterward, the way he let Neil stay close but didn’t say a word. The way he hadn’t looked at him.

His stomach twisted. "I don’t know." His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

Bee leaned forward slightly. "If he doesn’t blame you, why do you blame yourself?"

Neil turned back, eyes wild with frustration. "Because I’m supposed to protect him!" His breath hitched, and he dragged a hand through his hair, gripping it tight. "I’m supposed to keep him safe. And I didn’t! I couldn’t."

Bee stood slowly, stepping closer, careful not to startle him. "Neil," she said softly, "you can’t control everything. You can’t predict everything. You did everything you could to stop Drake. You got Andrew out of that house. You didn’t fail him."

Neil shook his head, breath ragged. "You don’t understand. This isn’t the first time. I push too hard, or I don’t push enough, and people get hurt. Andrew… my mom..." His voice cracked, and his hands trembled.

Bee's voice softened. "Neil, what happened with your mother was not your fault."

Neil whipped around, his face a storm of anger and pain. "You don’t know that!" His voice was sharp, defensive, desperate. "You don’t know anything about it!"

Bee held her ground, unwavering. "I know you’ve been carrying that weight for a long time. And I know it’s not fair to yourself to blame yourself for things you couldn’t control."

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his fingers twitching like he wanted to punch something, break something—anything to get rid of the suffocating weight pressing down on him. But no matter how many times he fought, how many times he ran, the guilt never left.

Bee took another careful step forward. "Neil, no one expects you to be perfect. Andrew doesn’t expect you to be perfect. You’re not a failure for not being able to do everything."

Neil exhaled shakily. "Then what am I?" His voice was quiet now, stripped down to something fragile.

Bee offered a faint, knowing smile. "You’re human. And you’re trying your best. That’s enough."

Neil stared at her. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but exhaustion had crept in too, dragging at his limbs, making it harder to fight.

"I don’t know how to believe that," he admitted, the words barely more than a whisper.

Bee nodded. "You don’t have to figure it all out today. But you can start."

Neil swallowed hard. The weight in his chest didn’t disappear, but something in him shifted. Just a little. Just enough.

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded—barely a movement—and sank back into the chair, staring down at his hands as his breath evened out. Neil’s feet felt heavy as he walked down the hall toward Andrew’s dorm room. His session with Bee had left him raw, his emotions frayed and barely held together. The weight of his guilt had only grown heavier as the afternoon wore on, pressing on his chest like a boulder.

When he opened the door, he was relieved to find the room empty except for Andrew. Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin were gone, their absence leaving a welcome silence. Andrew was standing by the window, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around him. His gaze was distant, his expression unreadable, as though he were somewhere far away.

The sight made Neil’s stomach twist. Andrew always carried himself with a detached confidence, but now he looked... haunted. Lost in a way Neil hadn’t seen before.

Neil’s chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, the tears came. Hot and heavy, they spilled over, leaving him gasping for breath.

Andrew turned at the sound, his brows furrowing as he took in Neil’s trembling form. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice calm but with an edge of confusion.

Neil wiped at his face, but it was futile. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, Andrew.”

Andrew frowned, taking a step closer. “For what?”

“For everything,” Neil said, his voice breaking. “For pushing you to go to that house. For not listening when you said we’d regret it. I should’ve known better. I should’ve—”

Before he could finish, Andrew crossed the room and grabbed the back of Neil’s neck gently, grounding him. The touch was steady, firm but not rough.

Neil froze, his watery gaze meeting Andrew’s. “I—”

Andrew cut him off. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, his voice low but unyielding. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

Neil shook his head, his tears falling faster. “But I—”

Andrew’s sharp voice interrupted him. “Yes or no?”

Neil blinked, his breath hitching. “What?”

“Did you force me to go?” Andrew asked, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument.

“No, but—”

“Did you put me in that room with him?”

Neil hesitated, the guilt clawing at him. “No, but if I hadn’t—”

Andrew didn’t let him finish. “Yes or no?”

Neil felt the words stick in his throat, but he forced them out. “Yes.”

Andrew didn’t say anything more. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Neil, his lips firm and steady against Neil’s trembling ones. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was grounding, a quiet reassurance in the midst of chaos.

Neil stiffened at first, but then he melted into it, his hands gripping Andrew’s shirt as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.

They broke apart just long enough to catch their breath before Andrew kissed him again, this time more insistent, more sure. The guilt and the pain in Neil’s chest didn’t disappear, but they dulled under the weight of Andrew’s touch, his presence a steady anchor in the storm.

Before Neil fully realized it, they found themselves on Andrew’s bed, lying tangled together. Andrew’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Neil’s arm, and Neil rested his head against Andrew’s shoulder, his tears finally slowing.

For a while, they stayed like that, the silence between them not awkward but comforting.

But then, down the hall, Nicky’s voice echoed, loud and cheerful as he chatted with someone. The sound broke the quiet, pulling both of them out of the moment.

Andrew sighed and sat up, glancing toward the door. “They’re back.”

Neil chuckled softly, wiping at his face again. “Great timing, as always.”

Andrew smirked faintly, his hand lingering on Neil’s arm for a moment before he stood. “Get yourself together before they come in.”

Neil nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in what felt like hours, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

Dinner was a noisy affair, as it usually was with the Foxes. They crowded around the dining table in the lounge, plates heaped with food, conversations crisscrossing as laughter and banter filled the room. These team dinners had become a tradition after the fall banquet, a way to rebuild their fractured dynamic. It had started when Dan apologized to Andrew, setting the tone for the team’s efforts to be closer.

Tonight, however, there was an underlying tension. Andrew and Neil sat next to each other, as they often did, their quiet companionship contrasting with the chaos of the others. Aaron sat across from Andrew, unusually subdued, while Nicky pushed his food around his plate more than he ate. Kevin kept his focus on his drink, his silence betraying his unease.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered when Seth, between bites, casually asked, “So, what happened during that dinner at Nicky’s parents’ place?”

The room fell silent.

Aaron froze mid-chew, his jaw tightening. Nicky’s hand stilled over his fork, his face pale. Kevin’s gaze flicked up sharply, his lips pressed into a thin line. Neil felt his body stiffen, the sharp edge of anger sparking to life in his chest.

Neil opened his mouth, ready to snap at Seth to mind his own business, but Renee beat him to it.

“That’s not your business, Seth.” she said, her voice calm but firm. Her steady gaze pinned him in place.

Dan nodded in agreement. “Renee’s right. If they wanted to talk about it, they would.”

Seth raised his hands in mock surrender, a sheepish look on his face. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious how it went.”

Matt shot Seth a pointed look. “Leave it alone, man. Seriously.”

The awkward tension hung in the air until Allison, ever the master of deflection, tried to steer the conversation toward something lighter. “So, who’s ready to destroy our opponents next game? I’ve got twenty bucks that says Matt trips at least once during warmups.”

“Hey!” Matt protested, his indignation earning a few chuckles.

But just as the tension began to ease, Andrew spoke. His voice was calm and unhurried, cutting through the noise. “It was awful.”

All eyes turned to him.

Andrew’s expression was unreadable, his gaze focused on his plate as he continued. “It was exactly as bad as I expected. Nicky’s parents haven’t changed. Not that I thought they would.”

“Andrew,” Nicky whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

Andrew didn’t look at him, his tone cold and detached as he added, “And to top it all off, I met someone... unpleasant while we were there.”

The weight of his words settled over the table like a heavy blanket. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to press further.

Seth swallowed hard, his face red. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, staring at his plate. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Andrew didn’t respond, his focus already elsewhere, but the message was clear: the topic was closed.

Neil glanced at Andrew out of the corner of his eye. His boyfriend looked as calm as ever, but Neil knew better. Beneath that calm exterior, Andrew’s mind was a storm, and Neil silently resolved to help him weather it.

As the conversation shifted to other topics, the tension gradually dissipated. But the unease lingered, a shadow at the edge of the Foxes’ camaraderie.

Neil placed his hand on Andrew’s knee under the table, a small gesture of solidarity that Andrew didn’t push away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

The mood at the dinner table had just begun to return to some semblance of normal when Wymack entered the room. His face, usually an unreadable mask, carried a familiar tension. He looked at Andrew with a glance that held far more weight than a simple greeting.

“Andrew,” Wymack began, his voice more serious than usual. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Andrew’s eyes met Neil’s briefly, the unspoken connection between them clear. He nodded. “Sure.”

Neil opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. Before he could speak, Andrew was already standing. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, his tone light, but the weight of the moment was unmistakable.

But Neil, instinctively, stood too. “I’m coming with you.”

Wymack sighed, frustration flickering across his features. “Neil, this doesn’t concern you—”

“I’m coming,” Neil insisted, his voice firm. There was no room for argument.

Wymack gave in with a sharp motion of his hand, gesturing for Neil to follow as they left the dining room. The chill of the night air hit them once they were outside, the tension between the three of them palpable as Wymack led them away from the main building.

Wymack didn’t waste time getting to the point. He paused in the shadows, the moonlight casting long, harsh shadows across his face. “I’ve got bad news.”

Andrew’s stance didn’t change; if anything, he grew even more still. Neil felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He already didn’t like where this was going.

“Go on,” Andrew said, his voice cold but controlled.

Wymack exhaled, clearly burdened by the weight of what he was about to say. “You know, you were released from your court-ordered medication at the start of the season, but the agreement was that you’d go to rehab.” He paused, glancing at Andrew for any reaction. “But you didn’t. The court made an exception for you, as long as you followed certain conditions. Specifically, you were to remain under house arrest of sorts, just to keep you away from certain influences, and to make sure you weren’t a threat to yourself or anyone else.”

Andrew remained silent, his jaw tight, as if he was already anticipating the worst.

“Well, someone found out about that arrangement,” Wymack continued, voice growing darker. “Someone who shouldn’t have known about it in the first place. And now they’re demanding you go to a real rehab facility—one that they can control, under the pretext that they can’t be sure you’re safe to stay with the team.”

Neil’s stomach sank. He could see it in Andrew’s face—he wasn’t reacting, but it was clear that he was holding everything in, bracing himself.

Wymack lowered his voice. “I tried to fight it, and Bee did everything she could. But the decision’s final. They’re sending you to Easthaven.”

Andrew’s expression never wavered. Neil, however, felt his heart race, and his hands clenched at his sides.

“No,” Neil said, the word coming out sharper than he intended. “You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Wymack replied, his eyes sincere but filled with frustration. “But their decision is final. They don’t think you’re safe to stay with the team, Andrew. Easthaven isn’t a suggestion. It’s an order.”

Neil’s thoughts spiraled, each one more desperate than the last. “We can fight it,” Neil said quickly, though the doubt lingered in his voice. “Stuart can help. We don’t have to go.”

Wymack shook his head, looking helpless. “I can’t do anything to change it, and neither can Stuart. Whoever is pulling the strings here is powerful. The paperwork’s in. You’re going.”

Andrew still didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the ground, his face unreadable. But Neil could feel the pressure of the situation building between them.

Neil stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Wymack’s. “We’ll find a way,” he said firmly, even though a part of him knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed by just fighting back. “I won’t let them take him.”

Wymack held up a hand. “I know. But for now, it’s not up to us. I just wanted you both to know what’s coming. You’ve got a few days to prepare.”

Andrew finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What happens now?”

“You’ll be going to Easthaven. They’ll arrange everything. They’ll pick you up when it’s time,” Wymack said, his voice thick with the burden of what had just been revealed. “There’s no way around it.”

Andrew nodded, his face unreadable. “Then I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Neil’s chest tightened, frustration, anger, and helplessness crashing through him in waves. He wanted to protest, wanted to fight back, but he knew they were up against something bigger than they could handle right now.

“Listen,” Wymack said, his voice softening. “I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what we’re dealing with. We’ll make sure you have support through it. Just... get through it, okay?”

Neil’s eyes flicked over to Andrew, who had turned away, already lost in his thoughts. The silence stretched between them. Neil hated how powerless he felt in this moment. He hated how Andrew had to go through this when all they’d wanted was to be left in peace.

“We’ll figure this out.” Neil muttered, though even he didn’t believe his own words.

Wymack didn’t respond, just gave them both one last, heavy look. “Take care of him, Neil.”

Neil didn’t speak again. Instead, he looked at Andrew, whose shoulders seemed to sag a little more under the weight of what was coming.

Without another word, they turned and walked back into the building. But the uncertainty lingered in the air, hanging over them like a storm ready to break.

The morning came too soon. The weight of the past few days had settled heavy on Neil’s shoulders, and now it was time for Andrew to leave. Everyone had gathered at the team’s dorm, the tension thick in the air. It was rare for the whole team to be together for something so somber, but today was different.

Wymack had arranged for a quiet, private departure. There would be no police or media attention, no fanfare. But that didn’t mean the situation was any less difficult. Andrew, his usually unshakable demeanor gone, stood by the door, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His face was still, his eyes distant, but anyone who knew him could see how much this was weighing on him.

Neil, standing across the room, watched him closely. The others were speaking in hushed tones, offering words of encouragement, trying to make this feel like any other goodbye. But it wasn’t.

“You sure about this?” Neil asked quietly, stepping toward Andrew as the room’s noise faded into the background.

Andrew’s eyes flicked to him, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze—pain, resignation, maybe even a hint of anger. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

“I don’t have a choice,” Andrew replied softly. “This is happening, Neil. I can’t fight it.”

Neil didn’t know what to say to that. He wanted to tell him to run, to fight harder, to do anything but go. But he knew that wasn’t realistic.

Andrew shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “Look after them for me. Especially Kevin, Aaron, and Nicky. They need you more than you think.”

Neil nodded, his throat tight. “I’ll keep them safe. Don’t worry.”

Andrew gave him a look—one that could be interpreted as gratitude or frustration, but Neil knew the truth behind it. Andrew didn’t show vulnerability often, but when he did, it was raw and powerful.

Andrew exhaled, the breath shaky but controlled. “I’ll be back,” he said, more to himself than to Neil. “I’ll come back. And when I do, I’ll make things right.”

Neil didn’t know if he meant it for himself or for them, but either way, it was a promise that Neil was willing to hold on to.

The moment stretched between them, the weight of everything that had happened, everything they had been through, hanging heavy in the space. But there was no time left.

Neil took a step closer and without thinking, reached out, pulling Andrew into a tight hug. He could feel the tremble in Andrew’s body, the tension that was just under the surface. It was the first time in days that Neil could feel Andrew’s guard down completely.

“Just come back.” Neil whispered against his ear, his voice thick with emotion.

Andrew was quiet for a moment, then spoke, his words quieter than usual. “I will.”

Neil pulled back, locking eyes with Andrew. “I’ll be waiting for you. Every step of the way.”

Andrew didn’t answer, but his gaze softened, and for a moment, there was no mask. No walls. Just the two of them.

“Goodbye, Neil,” Andrew said, his voice almost a whisper.

Neil nodded, his throat tight. He wanted to say more, to stop him from leaving, but the words stuck in his chest, useless.

With one last glance, Andrew turned and walked out of the room. The door closed softly behind him.

The team was silent for a moment before the buzz of conversation resumed. But Neil’s heart was elsewhere. He knew this wasn’t the end. He wouldn’t let it be. Andrew would come back, and when he did, they would face whatever came next together.

But for now, Neil had to hold down the fort—look after the team, protect the ones Andrew cared about, and make sure they all made it through this. He would do it for Andrew. For the team. For himself.

But as the door to the dorm clicked shut, Neil couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before the weight of their separation started to really hit.

Thanksgiving came and went, each of the team members scattering to their respective destinations for the long weekend. Matt went home to his mother, Dan made her way to visit her stage sisters, and Allison and Seth took off for a romantic holiday. Renee headed to her mother’s house, and for a moment, Neil thought about going back to his own family as well.

But then he remembered Nicky, Kevin, and Aaron. They were all in a fragile place right now. So, Neil made the decision to take them with him. Even with everything that had happened recently, it felt important to be the responsible one for once. As much as he longed for the privacy and quiet of his own space, he knew he couldn’t leave them behind. He also had Wymack and Abby to think about.

“Just this once,” Neil muttered under his breath as he made the call to arrange things with Stuart.

The place he was heading to was one of Stuart’s many properties in America: a quiet cottage hidden away in the mountains. Neil didn’t quite get why Stuart owned so many real estate properties, but he was glad the one in the mountains had come available for few days.

The drive was long and winding as they ascended through the mountain pass, the snow falling thick around them. Neil glanced at the others in the car. Kevin, Aaron, and Nicky were still a little quiet, processing the aftermath of Andrew’s departure. Neil’s gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, his eyes locking with Abby’s for a brief moment.

“Everyone good?” Neil asked, trying to keep the mood light.

Wymack grunted from the front seat. “Just tired. I think we could all use a change of scenery.”

Neil chuckled dryly, but there was no real humor behind it. “I agree.”

The drive took longer than expected, the road slick with ice and snow, but as they turned a final bend, Neil finally caught sight of the cottage. It sat nestled in a large, open space surrounded by trees, a picturesque haven tucked between the mountains. The stone and wood structure looked like something out of a magazine, with a large, welcoming front door and windows that reflected the twilight sky.

“Here we are,” Neil said, his voice softer now, despite the cold creeping into the car. He parked the car in front of the cottage and turned off the engine, glancing out the window.

It was breathtaking.

The others got out slowly, taking in the view, and even Wymack let out a small appreciative hum as he stood by the car, stretching.

“This place is... something else,” Kevin said quietly, eyes wide. He moved slowly toward the front door.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Nicky added, giving a quiet whistle. “Neil, how much is this place worth?”

Neil just shrugged, his lips curling in a faint smile. “It’s one of Stuart’s properties. You’d be surprised how many there are.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kevin muttered sarcastically, but there was no malice in his tone.

Neil rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Abby moved to the trunk to grab their bags, followed by Wymack, who started leading the way to the door. “Let’s just get inside before we freeze out here.”

Once inside, the team was struck by the size and luxury of the cottage. The large living room was warm, with a stone fireplace crackling in the center. Cozy chairs and a big couch surrounded it, along with a grand piano in the corner. The walls were decorated with tasteful, serene art pieces, and the space was filled with natural light from the large windows.

“This is way nicer than I expected,” Nicky said, eyes wide as he walked into the living room, inspecting the space. “I think I might just move in.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Neil teased, following Nicky into the room. “It’s only for a few days.”

The team began to spread out, picking rooms and getting settled. Neil took a moment to glance at the layout. The cottage was massive, with six bedrooms, each one with its own private bathroom and balcony. There was a full gym, a swimming pool, a sauna, and even a Jacuzzi, everything a person could want for relaxation.

“Well here we are.” Wymack said as he unpacked some of the bags. “I’ll get dinner started in a little while. We’ll have a simple meal tonight, but you can do what you want before then. Just be reasonable with the food.”

Nicky, ever the adventurous one, immediately made his way to explore the sauna. Kevin wandered off to find the gym, while Aaron, as usual, lingered near Nicky but didn’t stray far.

Neil couldn’t help but notice how they’d all fallen into their familiar roles. But even here, surrounded by beauty and luxury, there was something missing. Andrew wasn’t here.  It was hard to escape the sense of loss. Still, Neil tried to push it aside, knowing that this weekend was supposed to be about finding some semblance of peace for them all. He made his way upstairs, passing by Wymack and Abby in the kitchen.

“Are you going to be okay here?” Abby asked quietly as Neil walked by.

“Yeah,” Neil replied, his voice carrying little emotion. “I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t sure if he was lying to her or himself.

Upstairs, Neil found his room—a large, spacious area with a king-size bed and another set of balcony doors that led to an incredible view of the snow-capped mountains. For a moment, he stood by the window, staring out at the frozen landscape as snowflakes drifted down from the sky.

It was peaceful, in a way, and yet it only reminded him of how empty things felt. He really wished Andrew was here.

Chapter Text

The southeastern district Christmas banquet was held at Breckenridge that year, and the Foxes were among the last teams to arrive. The air was cold and sharp, a biting reminder of the season, but Neil barely noticed. Andrew had been gone for five weeks now, and the weight of his absence pressed heavily on Neil’s mind. None of them had heard from him, not even Betsy, who had been cut off from Andrew’s care after his transfer to Easthaven. It was maddening and disheartening, and Neil knew tonight would only make things worse.

Riko would be here. And Riko, predictably, would have something awful to say.

The Foxes filed off the bus, dressed to impress in their formal attire. Kevin had slept most of the drive, a combination of liquor and caffeine keeping him on edge but strangely subdued. Wymack locked the bus and turned back to face the team, snapping his fingers to get Kevin’s attention.

"Look at me," Wymack ordered.

Kevin dragged his unfocused gaze toward Wymack, clearly reluctant but unable to disobey the commanding tone.

Wymack gestured between Neil and Matt. "You see these two? If I look your way tonight and you're not within five feet of at least one of them, I won't let you play a single damn game this spring. Get me? They're your shields. Use them. Use me, if you have to. Now give me a 'yes, Coach.'"

Kevin blinked sluggishly, clearly struggling to muster any kind of response. Finally, he managed a low, garbled, “Mm.”

Matt clapped Kevin on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "Don't worry. Riko can't do anything with so many witnesses."

Neil’s jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath, “If he wants to live another day.”

Kevin didn’t seem to register the comment, but Wymack’s sharp eyes flicked to Neil for a moment before the coach shook his head and moved to corral the rest of the team.

The Christmas banquet was in full swing, with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filling the decorated court. Poinsettias lined the walls, and the towering Christmas tree in the corner gave the room a festive charm that felt at odds with the tension simmering under the surface. For Neil, the decorations were background noise; his focus remained firmly on Kevin and the inevitable confrontation with Riko.

After dinner gave way to games and dancing, Neil and Kevin kept to themselves. They avoided the crowd, sticking close to the edges of the court, where they could observe without engaging. Kevin nursed his drink in silence, his eyes frequently darting toward the Ravens' table. Neil had no doubt what—or who—he was thinking about.

It wasn’t long before Riko appeared. He approached with a smug confidence that set Neil's teeth on edge, Jean trailing a step behind him. Jean’s face was a mask of indifference, but Neil caught the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Jean remembered the last time they’d crossed paths, and it was clear he wasn’t eager for a repeat. Still, he stayed by Riko’s side, loyalty or fear keeping him tethered.

Kevin froze as soon as he saw them. His drink hovered mid-air, his knuckles whitening around the cup. Neil stepped forward immediately, positioning himself between Kevin and Riko.

Riko’s lips curled into a smile that was more predatory than friendly. "Look what we have here," he drawled. "Two little Foxes, all alone without their skulk."

Neil raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. "You know, I’m starting to think you’ve been hit by a few too many balls. It’s the only explanation for your stupidity. Oh wait," he added, his tone mockingly apologetic, "I forgot. Some people are just born dumb. My bad."

Jean shifted uneasily beside Riko, his eyes darting to Neil as though weighing the consequences of staying silent. Riko, however, didn’t seem fazed. He stepped closer, his thumb brushing against Neil’s cheekbone, where the tattoo of the number three would be if Neil had ever marked himself like the Moriyamas demanded.

"Do us all a favor and don’t speak again," Riko said, his voice low and venomous. "You can’t even imagine what’s coming next."

Neil tilted his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, please, enlighten me, Your Highness."

Riko’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention to Kevin, addressing him with an imperious air. "Leave with Jean."

Kevin hesitated, his gaze flicking to Neil. He looked like he was bracing himself to argue, but Neil cut him off. "Go to Matt," Neil said firmly. "Now."

Jean’s relief was palpable as Kevin grudgingly obeyed, walking away stiffly toward Matt and the others. Jean followed close behind, sparing a wary glance over his shoulder at Neil.

Matt started toward Neil and Riko as soon as Kevin reached him, his protective instincts kicking in, but Kevin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. When Matt roughly shrugged him off, Neil waved him back.

Matt’s expression was a storm of disapproval, but he stayed put, his body tense and ready to step in at a moment’s notice. Neil turned back to Riko, his posture loose and deceptively casual. His heart pounded in his chest, but his voice was steady when he said, "So, what now? A monologue about your superiority? Or are you just here to waste my time? Just so you know I am not in a great mood and if you don’t want a repeat of last time I advise you to watch what you are saying."

Riko moved like lightning, smacking the cup from Neil's hand, its contents splattering against the polished floor. He reached for Neil’s wrist, but Neil was faster. With precision born from years of survival, Neil dodged and grabbed Riko’s wrist instead, twisting it brutally. A sharp crack filled the air as Riko’s face twisted in pain.

Neil’s smile was sharp and dangerous as he leaned in. “Careful, Riko. You don’t want to lose your hand before the next season.”

For a brief moment, fear flickered in Riko’s eyes, and Neil reveled in it. But as quickly as it came, it was replaced by the maddening smugness Neil despised.

"A little birdie told me about your missing member, the goalkeeper,” Riko sneered, ignoring the strain on his wrist. “Such a shame. But you know, I was disappointed with what happened with Drake Spears. He was such an interesting man. I should thank the police for leading me straight to him. I might not have discovered him otherwise.”

Neil’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard fury. “You set Andrew up.”

“Oh, that isn’t even the best part,” Riko continued, undeterred by Neil’s icy tone. His grin widened as if he were savoring the moment. “Did you know I've bought one of the doctors at Easthaven, too? Unless you want these little therapy sessions of his to turn into therapeutic reenactments, you will be on a plane to West Virginia tomorrow morning. You’re coming to Evermore for winter break. Jean will gi-?”

Neil’s patience snapped. Before Riko could finish, Neil’s hand shot out and caught his jaw with an iron grip. Riko’s words were cut off in a startled choke as Neil propelled him toward the hallway.

Riko stumbled, trying to regain his footing, but Neil’s strength didn’t waver. Neil kept a firm hold on him, steering him with purpose past the milling crowd, their movements hidden by the holiday decor and dim lighting.

“You’re going to regret that,” Riko managed to hiss, his voice tight with suppressed rage.

Neil ignored him. He spotted the men’s restroom down the hall, yanked the door open, and shoved Riko inside with enough force to send him stumbling. The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the music and chatter from the banquet.

Riko turned to face him, fury etched into every line of his face, but Neil was already advancing. His movements were predatory, deliberate, and his voice was low and venomous when he finally spoke.

“Now,” Neil said, stepping closer until Riko had nowhere to retreat, “you’re going to tell me everything. Every single name, every single move you’ve made against Andrew. And then, Riko, you’re going to wish you’d kept his name out of your filthy mouth.”

Riko’s usual smugness faltered as Neil’s fingers curled into his collar, and for the first time in years, he looked genuinely unsure of himself.

The air in the bathroom was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the cheerful music and chatter outside. Neil stood still, giving Riko a single chance to speak. His eyes were cold, his patience hanging by a thread. Riko, however, said nothing. His silence was a challenge, and Neil accepted it without hesitation.

Neil sighed, rolling his shoulders. He removed his blazer with deliberate care, draping it over the towel rail before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Every movement was calculated, a warning that Riko chose to ignore.

“Still nothing?” Neil asked. His voice was calm, but the undertone was chilling. Riko smirked faintly, his defiance evident.

“You’re as pathetic—”

Riko’s words were cut short as Neil lunged forward, yanking Riko’s blazer off and unbuttoning his shirt with swift, efficient movements. The smugness in Riko’s face faltered as Neil reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. The blade gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and Neil examined it thoughtfully.

“I wonder,” Neil mused, his tone eerily conversational. “What should I carve into you? It has to be something meaningful. Something that’ll bother you for the rest of your miserable life.”

Riko glared at Neil but said nothing. His silence only fueled Neil’s resolve. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “Last chance. Tell me the doctor’s name. Come on, Riko. If you cooperate, I might even let you walk out of here. And I definitely won’t mention this to your father or brother. You know your father’s always wanted a friendship with my uncle. Since I’m the key to his success, I’d say he’s grown rather fond of me.”

Riko’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with hatred, but he didn’t speak. Neil sighed, shaking his head as if disappointed. “Fine,” he said. “Your choice.”

In one fluid motion, Neil closed the distance between them. He pressed Riko against the wall, trapping him with his body. With one hand, he restrained Riko’s wrists, pinning them above his head. Riko struggled, but Neil’s grip was unyielding.

The blade touched Riko’s chest, cold against his skin. Neil worked with practiced precision, carving deliberate strokes into Riko’s chest. The kanji for “second son” began to take shape, a permanent reminder of Riko’s place and Neil’s dominance. Riko’s screams echoed in the small bathroom, but the pounding music outside ensured no one would hear.

When Neil finished, he stepped back, letting Riko slump against the wall. Blood trickled down Riko’s chest, staining his once-pristine shirt. Neil wiped the blade on Riko’s discarded blazer and turned back to him.

“Now,” Neil said, his voice calm once more. “The doctor’s name. This is your last chance.”

Riko’s entire body trembled, but his silence persisted. Neil clicked his tongue in frustration and took a step forward, ready to press further, when the bathroom door swung open.

Tetsuji Moriyama stood in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and anger. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice low and sharp.

Neil didn’t flinch. He straightened, turning to face Tetsuji with a calm demeanor that belied the chaos of the scene. “Don’t try to threaten me, Tetsuji. You know as well as you don’t have any actual power”

Tetsuji wasn’t pleased with this answer ”Are you trying to start a war, you insolent child?”

”Riko is nothing to Kengo or Ichiro. As long as his actions don’t embarrass the Moriyama name, they don’t care what happens to him. Therefor they won’t start a war over something so little.”

Tetsuji’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue. Neil took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Do you know what your precious Riko has been up to? He tried to have one of my teammates raped. He paid off a doctor at Easthaven to torture him too. Do you condone that, Tetsuji?”

The accusation hit hard, and Tetsuji’s face paled. “I didn’t know—”

“Then fix it,” Neil cut him off sharply. “Find the doctor. Handle this before it blows back on you and prays that Kengo doesn’t find about this.”

Tetsuji hesitated, glancing at Riko, who was now slumped against the wall, his breathing ragged. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “This will be dealt with. Come, Riko.”

Neil stepped aside, watching as Tetsuji grabbed Riko and hauled him toward the door. Before they left, Neil spoke one final time.

“Make sure he remembers what happens when he crosses me. And don’t let me see him again.”

Tetsuji said nothing, his expression grim as he guided Riko out of the bathroom. When the door swung shut behind them, Neil exhaled, rolling down his sleeves and picking up his blazer. He tucked the knife back into his pocket and left the bathroom, his mind already moving to the next step. He was definitely getting Andrew out of there even if he has to go and get him himself.

The atmosphere around the Foxes' table was tense when Neil returned. All eyes turned to him as he approached, his expression unreadable. Wymack stood at the head of the table, arms crossed and brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and frustration.

“Where were you?” Wymack demanded, his voice low but firm. “Matt said he saw you leaving with Riko. What happened?”

Neil slid into his seat and adjusted his blazer as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Don’t worry, Coach,” he said, his tone calm. “I was just having a chat with Riko. Let’s just say his uncle isn’t happy with what he’s been up to. We won’t hear from him this Christmas.”

Wymack’s frown deepened, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Neil, I don’t like being left in the dark. What did you do?”

Neil met his gaze without flinching. “It’s above your pay grade, Coach.”

The casual dismissal made Wymack’s jaw tighten, but he didn’t press further. The rest of the team, however, wasn’t so easily deterred.

“What does that mean?” Dan asked, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “What did you say to him?”

“What do you mean by his uncle isn’t happy?” Renee added, her tone as gentle as ever but laced with curiosity.

“Did you threaten him?” Nicky piped up, looking both impressed and worried.

Seth added “Please tell me you hit him.”

Neil ignored their questions entirely, keeping his focus on the cup of water in front of him. The silence that followed his lack of response was heavy with unspoken words, but no one dared push further when Neil didn’t engage.

Wymack gave an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. If you won’t talk, we’re leaving. Everyone, get your stuff. We’re heading out.

The team scrambled to their feet, gathering their things. The tension followed them as they filed out of the banquet hall and onto the bus.

The ride back to Palmetto was heavy with silence. The usual banter and laughter that accompanied the Foxes on road trips was absent, replaced by a quiet unease.

Neil leaned back in his seat, staring ahead lost in his anger. Wymack sat at the front, one hand gripping the steering wheel tightly, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on his leg.

They reached Palmetto State in the dead of night. The campus was dark and quiet, the air crisp with the chill of December. Wymack dropped off the dates first, making sure each of them got home safely, before driving the team back to Fox Tower. The elevator ride up was stifling, the small space amplifying the tension between them.

When the elevator doors opened on their floor, the Foxes stepped out together, an unspoken agreement to leave their questions for another time. Neil was the first to head for his room, but he paused just before his door. Turning back to the group, he met their eyes briefly.

“Get some sleep,” he said simply, then disappeared into his room, leaving the others standing in the hallway with their unanswered questions and lingering unease.

Neil didn’t wait for the others to question him further. He slipped out of his room and took the elevator to the top floor. The chill of the night air greeted him as he stepped onto the rooftop, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one, the ember glowing faintly in the darkness, and dialed Stuart on his phone.

The call connected on the second ring. “Neil,” Stuart greeted, his tone wary but steady. “What’s going on?”

“We need to get Andrew out of Easthaven,” Neil said, wasting no time. “By tomorrow, at the latest.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “I’ve already been working on it,” Stuart said. “I spoke with the hospital owner and director earlier. From what they told me, Andrew was actually supposed to be released last week.”

Neil’s grip on his phone tightened. “What stopped them?”

“A doctor claimed Andrew was aggressive during one of their sessions and recommended an extended stay for further observation,” Stuart explained. “I thought it sounded off, so I asked for the name of the doctor. Dr. Proust.”

The name clicked in Neil’s mind immediately. The pieces fell into place like a cruel puzzle: Riko’s smug revelations, the delay in Andrew’s release, the manipulation of the system. “It’s him,” Neil said, his voice low and cold. “Riko bought him off. This is his doing.”

“I figured,” Stuart admitted. “I’m already speaking with the director about overriding Proust’s influence and authorizing Andrew’s release. It’ll take some convincing, but I think I can manage it. He owes me a favor anyway. Might as well cash it out.”

“Good,” Neil said, exhaling a plume of smoke into the cold air. “But that’s not enough. I want Proust.”

“Neil—” Stuart began, but Neil cut him off.

“Get me everything you can on him,” Neil said firmly. “Where he’s from, his family, his finances—anything I can use. If he thought he could get away with this, he’s wrong. I’m going to ruin him.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end before Stuart sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. But Neil, don’t do anything reckless.”

“Reckless is the only language they understand,” Neil replied, his voice hard. “Just get me what I need.”

“I’ll call you when I have something.” Stuart said finally.

Neil ended the call and leaned against the railing, his mind racing. The glow of the city lights below offered no comfort, only a stark reminder of how much power and corruption lurked in the shadows. Two days until Christmas break. Two days to get Andrew out of that place and ensure that the people who tried to keep him there paid the price.

Neil crushed the cigarette under his heel and headed back inside, already planning his next move.

Chapter Text

Neil woke to the faint sounds of movement in the other room. The Foxes, as exhausted as they’d been the night before, were already up and preparing to leave for their various destinations. It was the first day of winter break, and most of them had early flights to catch. Neil rolled out of bed, his mind already racing with plans for the day.

By the time he joined the others in the living area, Allison, Renee, and Dan were finalizing their bags. They were heading to Bismarck for a brief layover before splitting up. Their flight was around lunch, and they’d been coordinating rides to the airport with Wymack. Nicky, Aaron, Kevin, and Matt were scheduled for a later flight to LaGuardia, where they’d spend the holidays at Matt’s family home. Seth was tagging along, invited by Matt to avoid leaving him alone for Christmas.

Neil kept to the background, watching them bicker over last-minute packing and itineraries. His phone buzzed with updates from Stuart, and each message made his pulse quicken. Andrew would be released today. He hadn’t told the others; they didn’t need to know. Neil’s plan was simple: pick up Andrew, then leave the country. He had a flight booked for England, where Stuart had already prepared a quiet retreat for them. The less interference, the better.

By 3 p.m., most of the Foxes were already on their way to the airport. Neil helped carry bags to the van and gave them curt goodbyes. Nicky lingered the longest, clearly torn about leaving without seeing Andrew first.

“He’ll be fine,” Neil assured him, lying with ease. “Wymack’s keeping tabs on him.”

“If you say so,” Nicky said reluctantly, though his expression betrayed his doubts.

At 3:30 p.m., Neil’s phone rang. Stuart’s name flashed on the screen. He stepped away from the others, answering quickly.

“It’s done,” Stuart said without preamble. “You can pick him up now. I’ve already handled the paperwork and everything else.”

Neil exhaled, relief and anticipation flooding him. “Good. I’ll head out now.”

“Be careful,” Stuart warned. “And Neil—remember, you’re taking him out of the country without anyone’s knowledge. Keep a low profile.”

Neil didn’t need to be reminded. He ended the call and slipped back into the dorm. Wymack caught him just as he grabbed his keys.

“You’re really doing this?” Wymack asked, his voice low but gruff.

“Yeah,” Neil said. “You promised not to tell them.”

“I know,” Wymack said, folding his arms. “But you better have a damn good plan for what happens next.”

“I do.” Neil’s response was simple but firm.

Wymack sighed but didn’t press further. “Just make sure you bring him back in one piece.”

Neil gave a faint nod before leaving. His heart pounded as he got into his car and started the drive to Easthaven. Andrew was waiting, and Neil was going to get him.

Neil pulled into the parking lot at Easthaven, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Despite Stuart’s assurances, he couldn’t shake the tension that had settled in his chest. As he walked through the front doors, he forced himself to remain calm. He approached the receptionist and explained who he was there for. After a brief exchange, the woman gave him directions to Andrew’s room.

The trek down the sterile hallways felt endless, but Neil finally arrived at the door. He knocked once and pushed it open to find Andrew sitting on the edge of the bed, his packed bags at his feet. Relief washed over Neil at the sight of him. Andrew looked unharmed, at least physically, though there was an edge to his expression that Neil recognized immediately. He wasn’t entirely fine, but he was here—and he was free.

Andrew’s gaze flicked to Neil, sharp and assessing. Without preamble, he asked, "Yes or no?"

Neil didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said, his voice steady. “With you, it’s always yes.”

Andrew crossed the room in two strides and kissed him. It was fierce, claiming, and filled with all the unspoken things neither of them could voice in words. Neil kissed him back with just as much intensity, one hand curling into the fabric of Andrew’s hoodie as if anchoring him in place.

When they finally pulled apart, Neil rested his forehead against Andrew’s. “I missed you,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m never letting you go anywhere like this again.”

Andrew hummed in response, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. He stepped back and gestured to his bags. “Let’s go, then.”

Neil grabbed one of the bags while Andrew picked up the other. They walked through the halls without a word, and Neil couldn’t help but glance at Andrew every few seconds, as if reassuring himself that this wasn’t some cruel dream.

Once they reached Neil’s rented car, Neil stowed the bags in the trunk. Andrew slid into the passenger seat, his posture relaxed but his sharp eyes taking in their surroundings. Neil climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

As they pulled onto the road, Neil said, “I’m thinking about shipping one of my cars from England after the break. Or maybe I’ll just buy a new one.”

Andrew turned his head to look at Neil, raising an eyebrow. “Practical as ever.”

Neil smirked. “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. For now, that was enough.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence between them as Neil drove through the winding roads. Andrew stared out the window, the passing scenery unfamiliar. It didn’t take long for him to realize they weren’t heading toward Palmetto. He turned his gaze to Neil, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“Where are we going?” Andrew asked, his tone even but unmistakably probing.

Neil glanced at him briefly before returning his focus to the road. “England,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “England,” he repeated flatly.

Neil nodded. “Since Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin are with Matt and Seth in New York, I thought you might like to come with me for the break.”

Andrew’s unimpressed stare deepened, and Neil could feel it even without looking. He sighed. “If you want, I’ll turn the car around, drive you to Palmetto, get you a ticket to New York, and let the others know you’re coming.”

Andrew was silent for a moment, watching Neil with an intensity that only Andrew could manage. Finally, he said, “I’d be happy to spend the break with you, but you should have told me.”

Neil glanced at him again, his expression softening. He smiled, one of those rare, genuine smiles that Andrew secretly liked. “It was a last-minute decision,” Neil admitted.

Andrew shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “Junkie,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it—just a quiet fondness.

Neil chuckled under his breath, content to let the silence stretch between them again as the car sped toward the airport.

The airport was a blur of activity as Neil and Andrew moved through the terminal. Stuart had, unsurprisingly, arranged everything to make the process as smooth as possible. They bypassed most of the usual headaches, with a private escort guiding them directly to the first-class lounge. Andrew looked indifferent as ever, but Neil could tell by the way his fingers tapped against his arm that he was holding something back.

When they boarded the plane, their seats were as luxurious as Neil expected. Plush leather, ample legroom, and a menu that made it hard to believe they were on a flight. Andrew dropped into his seat, buckled himself in, and leaned his head back with a blank expression that Neil wasn’t buying for a second.

Neil settled into the seat next to him and waited until the flight attendants finished their pre-takeoff rounds. He glanced at Andrew, who was staring straight ahead, his hand gripping the armrest just a little too tightly.

“You doing okay?” Neil asked softly.

Andrew’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

Neil frowned but didn’t push. He’d learned to pick his battles, and this wasn’t one of them. Instead, he tried a different approach. “You know, first-class flights usually come with unlimited snacks. I hear they have good ice cream.”

Andrew gave him a flat look, but Neil thought he saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of Andrew’s mouth. “You’re terrible at distractions.

Neil grinned. “Maybe, but you’re still listening.”

The plane began to taxi, and Andrew tensed visibly. Neil reached over, his hand brushing Andrew’s where it rested on the armrest. He didn’t grab it outright, knowing better than to push too far, but he let their fingers overlap. Andrew didn’t pull away, and that was enough for Neil.

The takeoff was smooth, but Neil could feel Andrew’s tension radiating off him. He tried to keep up a steady stream of quiet chatter—half-baked plans for what they’d do in England, sarcastic commentary about the overly polished first-class cabin, anything to fill the silence.

By the time they were in the air, Andrew’s grip on the armrest had loosened slightly, but Neil could still see the tension in his posture. He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only Andrew could hear. “We’ll be on the ground soon enough. Until then, I’ve got you.”

Andrew didn’t say anything, but the faintest nod and the way he finally closed his eyes were enough to let Neil know he’d done something right.

After a long flight, Neil and Andrew finally touched down in England. The bustling airport was a sharp contrast to the relative calm of their flight. As they moved through customs and retrieved their luggage, Neil spotted Callum and Emma waiting near the arrivals area.

Emma’s face lit up the moment she saw Neil, and she bolted forward, her excitement unmistakable. “Neil!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. Neil hugged her back, a rare softness in his expression.

“It’s good to see you too,” Neil said with a small smile.

Emma stepped back, her attention shifting to Andrew. Her gaze was curious but warm. “Its good to see you again Andrew.” she said, offering a smile.

Andrew gave her a curt nod in return. “You too.”

Callum approached, his demeanor calm and composed. “Welcome back, Neil,” he said before turning his attention to Andrew. “And welcome to England. I’m Callum, by the way.”

Andrew sized him up briefly before giving a short nod. “Andrew.”

Callum didn’t seem fazed by the lack of enthusiasm and gestured toward the exit. “The car’s waiting. Let’s get you both settled.”

They made their way to a sleek limousine parked outside the terminal. The driver took their luggage while Callum held the door open. Once inside, Emma immediately resumed her chatter with Neil, catching him up on everything that had happened since his last visit. She spoke animatedly about new places to explore, a recent gala she’d attended, and plans for Christmas.

Neil listened attentively, occasionally teasing her with a comment or two. Andrew, meanwhile, sat quietly beside Neil, his attention flicking between the passing scenery and the conversation. When Emma turned to include him, he responded with short but polite answers, enough to keep the conversation moving but not enough to invite follow-up questions.

Callum watched the dynamic with a faint smile, clearly amused but staying out of the back-and-forth. The ride was smooth, the cityscape giving way to quieter, more picturesque streets as they neared their destination. By the time the limousine pulled into the estate’s driveway, Neil was visibly more at ease, and even Andrew seemed a fraction more relaxed.

“Home sweet home,” Neil said as the car came to a stop. Callum stepped out first, holding the door for the others. Emma was the first to bound out, eager to lead the way, with Neil and Andrew following close behind.

As they stepped inside the grand estate, Neil immediately felt the familiar air of formality that always hung over his uncle’s home. Callum departed with a brief nod, leaving Neil and Andrew alone with Emma. She turned to Neil, her expression bright but teasing.

“Dad’s in a meeting right now,” she informed him. “He’ll be back this evening, just in time for dinner. Oh, and don’t forget about the Christmas ball. We’re going shopping for suits—both of you.”

Neil groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I was hoping to skip that part.”

Emma smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Too bad, cousin. You know the drill. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself—or Andrew.”

Before leaving, Emma added, “By the way, Neil, you should tell the staff to make that chocolate cake and get some ice cream for Andrew. Pretty sure I saw the ‘Andrew Minyard fan club’ etched in your face just now.”

Neil scowled at her, though there was no real heat in it. “Just do it, Emma.”

She laughed, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall, leaving Neil and Andrew in the spacious foyer. Neil turned to Andrew, scratching the back of his neck.

“So,” Neil began, glancing toward the expansive hallways. “Do you want to sleep in my room? Same bed, or would you rather have your own room?”

Andrew considered the question for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Finally, he gave a small shrug. “Your room. Same bed.”

Neil nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Okay. Follow me.”

The two walked through the sprawling corridors of the estate, Andrew’s eyes subtly taking in the luxurious surroundings. The endless hallways, high ceilings, and intricate decor didn’t seem to faze him, though Neil knew Andrew was cataloging every detail.

Eventually, they arrived at Neil’s room—a spacious suite with a large bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a small sitting area. The muted colors and understated elegance gave it a cozy, if still extravagant, feel. Neil dropped his bag near the door and turned to Andrew.

“You can take the bed. I’ll grab a shower,” Neil said, already moving toward the adjoining bathroom.

Andrew wandered to the bed, sitting on the edge as he looked around. “You really grew up here?”

Neil paused in the doorway, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “Not exactly. But close enough.” With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Andrew to explore the room and settle in.

Neil stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp and a towel slung low around his hips. For a moment, he felt lighter—until he caught Andrew's eyes lingering on the scars that marred his skin. Reality came crashing back, and shame crept in. He instinctively tried to cover himself, his shoulders tensing as he avoided Andrew's gaze.

Andrew, however, wasn’t looking at him with disgust or pity. He stood from the bed and crossed the room to Neil with a calm, deliberate stride. Gently, Andrew reached out, tilting Neil’s chin up so their eyes met.

“Look at me,” Andrew said, his voice steady and firm.

Neil hesitated but complied, his watery gaze locking with Andrew’s.

“These scars aren’t ugly,” Andrew told him. His tone left no room for argument. “They’re you. They make you even more beautiful.”

Neil’s breath hitched, tears threatening to spill over. Before he could say anything, Andrew reached up and unbuckled the armbands on his wrists. He let them drop to the floor, revealing his own scars—thin, deep lines etched across his forearms.

Neil’s eyes widened, his gaze softening as he took in the marks. He didn’t say a word, just looked at Andrew with a mix of understanding and emotion that words could never express.

Then Neil asked softly, “Yes or no? To kiss you.”

Andrew’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “Yes.”

Neil closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against Andrew’s in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly grew deeper. Andrew’s hands moved to Neil’s waist, grounding him as they kissed. Slowly but firmly, Andrew took control, guiding them to the bed. Neil felt the back of his knees hit the mattress, and before he knew it, Andrew was hovering over him.

The towel around Neil’s waist shifted slightly, making his cheeks flush a deep red, but Andrew didn’t press further. Instead, he smirked, leaning in close enough to tease, but never overstepping.

After a few more heated moments, Andrew abruptly pulled back and stood up. Neil blinked, dazed and breathless.

“I’m taking a shower,” Andrew announced nonchalantly, heading toward the bathroom without looking back.

Neil sat there, the towel still precariously in place, his face burning as he watched Andrew disappear into the bathroom. A smile tugged at his lips, despite his embarrassment.

Andrew Minyard could render him speechless, but somehow, it didn’t feel like a loss.

The dining room was grand, with an elaborate chandelier casting warm light over the long table. Neil, Andrew, and Emma sat near one end, waiting for Stuart to arrive. Emma kept the conversation light, sensing Neil’s nerves, while Andrew sat with his usual calm demeanor, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Neil.

When Stuart entered, his presence was commanding, his tailored suit and confident stride leaving no doubt he was a man used to being in control. He walked straight to Neil, pulling him into a firm hug.

“Neil,” Stuart greeted warmly, his voice filled with affection. “It’s good to have you back.”

Neil barely had time to respond before Stuart turned his attention to Andrew. His sharp gaze lingered for a moment, assessing. Neil tensed, ready to intervene, but Stuart spoke before he could.

“You must be Andrew,” Stuart said, his tone polite but laced with an edge of warning. “I’m Stuart Hatford. I’ve heard a lot about you from my nephew. You are very dear to him, but let me make one thing clear—break his heart and I break you.”

“Uncle—” Neil began, his voice tinged with exasperation, but Andrew cut him off.

Andrew met Stuart’s gaze without flinching. “Neil is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Andrew said, his voice steady and sincere. “I don’t plan to hurt him.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Neil’s face flushed crimson, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to process Andrew’s words. Emma looked like she was ready to combust with excitement, but she wisely kept quiet.

Stuart studied Andrew for a beat longer, then nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good, welcome to the family.” he said simply. He moved to his seat at the head of the table, satisfied with Andrew’s answer.

Dinner was served soon after, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Stuart asked Neil about his team and school, teasing him occasionally in a way that only a doting uncle could. Emma chimed in often, her energy filling the room, while Andrew contributed the occasional dry comment that earned a laugh from Stuart.

By the time dessert arrived—a decadent chocolate cake accompanied by vanilla ice cream—Neil had relaxed. He stole a glance at Andrew, who gave him a small, reassuring smirk. For the first time in days, Neil felt like everything might just fall into place.

The cool night air enveloped them as Neil, Andrew, and Emma lounged on the spacious balcony of Neil's room. The balcony overlooked the sprawling estate grounds, the city lights twinkling faintly in the distance. Emma, ever the social butterfly, dominated the conversation, sharing bits of juicy gossip she’d picked up from the latest society events and the people she’d met.

Neil leaned against the railing, nursing a glass of some absurdly expensive whiskey that Emma had brought out. He wasn’t particularly fond of it, but it wasn’t bad enough to complain about. Andrew, meanwhile, stood nearby, occasionally taking a drag from his cigarette, his sharp eyes flicking between Emma and Neil.

“Did you know,” Emma said with a conspiratorial grin, “that Lady Whittaker’s son is supposedly dating the daughter of one of her rivals? It’s all very Romeo and Juliet, but with less tragedy and more scandals.”

Neil smirked. “You’re a walking tabloid.”

Emma raised her glass in mock salute. “You’re welcome.”

Andrew, leaning lazily against the wall, took another drag and said, “Fascinating.” His tone was as flat as ever, but the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

They continued like that, Emma regaling them with more tidbits of high-society drama while the whiskey bottle slowly emptied. Around midnight, Emma stretched and yawned, her earlier energy finally beginning to wane.

“Well, boys,” she said, setting her empty glass on the balcony railing, “I’m off to bed. Try not to burn the place down.”

“Goodnight, Emma,” Neil said, watching her disappear into the house.

Once she was gone, Neil and Andrew lingered a little longer, enjoying the quiet of the night. Eventually, Neil tipped his head toward the door. “Ready to call it a night?”

Andrew stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray nearby and gave a small nod. Together, they made their way back into Neil’s room, shutting the balcony doors behind them.

They got ready for bed in comfortable silence. Neil changed into a soft T-shirt and sweatpants, while Andrew, ever practical, stuck to his usual pajama pants and a hoodie. When they slipped under the covers, Andrew pulled Neil close, tucking him against his chest with one arm draped protectively over him.

Neil exhaled, the tension from the day melting away in Andrew’s warmth. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of Andrew’s breathing, and let himself drift off. Moments later, Andrew’s hand tightened slightly on Neil’s side, a silent reassurance that he was there.

For the first time in a long while, sleep came easily to both of them.

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the dining room as Neil and Andrew sat quietly, eating breakfast. Neil sipped his coffee groggily, still waking up, while Andrew silently worked his way through his plate, his expression unreadable as always.

Emma burst into the room with her characteristic energy, looking far too awake for Neil's liking. "Alright, boys," she announced. "Finish up quickly and grab your things. We’re heading to the tailor to get your measurements for your outfits."

Neil groaned, rubbing his temples. "Could you at least let us finish our coffee first?"

Emma smirked and crossed her arms. "Oh, come on, Neil. It’s not like you need caffeine to survive. Besides, this is important. You’re not showing up to the Hatford ball looking like you just rolled out of bed."

Neil raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Andrew, unfazed, continued eating, though a subtle flicker of annoyance crossed his face. Emma, seemingly oblivious, added, “I’ll give you ten minutes. Be ready.” With a cheeky grin, she turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall.

Neil sighed and slouched back in his chair, turning to Andrew. "This is what I get for coming back here."

Andrew, unimpressed, wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at Neil. "What’s this ball even about?"

Neil rolled his eyes. "The Hatford Christmas Ball. It’s my uncle’s favorite way of reminding the other rich people in England that they’re beneath him. Lots of preening, fake smiles, and deals made over champagne."

Andrew nodded thoughtfully, then set down his utensils and stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

Neil groaned again but reluctantly agreed. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to listen to Emma whining this early.”

Andrew smirked faintly and said, “It’s ten in the morning, Neil.”

Neil shot him a half-hearted glare. “It’s early for me.”

Andrew didn’t bother replying. Instead, he reached out, grabbed Neil’s hand, and started pulling him out of his chair. “Come on, Junkie. You can complain later.”

Neil allowed himself to be dragged along, grumbling under his breath about mornings and overly enthusiastic cousins. Still, the warmth of Andrew’s hand in his own softened his mood as they headed to their room to prepare for another day of being paraded around in his uncle’s world.

After wrapping up at the tailor, Emma was in high spirits. "Let’s grab some coffee before heading back. I need caffeine, and Neil, I know you won’t say no to dessert."

Neil couldn’t argue with that. "Fine," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets as they stepped out onto the busy streets of London. “I know just the place—Bija Coffee.”

Emma’s face lit up. “Of course, your favorite spot. Lead the way.”

Neil guided Emma and Andrew through the bustling streets to a cozy little café tucked into a quiet corner. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods greeted them as they walked in. Bija Coffee was exactly as Neil remembered it—warm, inviting, and alive with chatter. It was packed, as usual, with customers seated at tiny wooden tables or queued up for their orders.

Andrew’s sharp gaze scanned the café while Emma beamed at the atmosphere. "This is cute," she said approvingly.

They joined the line, and Neil took the opportunity to glance around. Memories of his time here flooded back—the late-night study sessions, the group hangouts with Emma and their friends, and the wild adventures that sometimes started with a single cup of coffee.

When it was finally their turn, Neil stepped up to the counter and froze. The barista smiled brightly, and Neil instantly recognized her.

“Trix?” he blurted.

The barista blinked in surprise before her face lit up with recognition. "Neil Hatford! Oh my God, it’s been ages!" She leaned over the counter slightly, grinning at him. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after you disappeared off to America!”

Neil smiled back, a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’ve been… busy.”

“Busy? That’s all you’re giving me after vanishing for months?” Trix laughed. She had the same lively energy he remembered, the kind that could light up an entire room. “You better spill. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

Emma, clearly enjoying the reunion, interjected, “Oh, he’s been very busy. You wouldn’t believe half of it.”

Trix gave Emma a once-over and grinned. “Emma Hatford, stirring the pot, I see.”

Andrew, standing silently beside Neil, watched the exchange with mild curiosity. His sharp eyes lingered on Trix before flicking back to Neil.

Neil cleared his throat. “Trix, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is Beatrix—Trix for short. She’s a barista here and, uh, a friend.”

Andrew gave a small nod. “Hi.”

Trix sized him up with a cheeky grin. “So this is the famous Andrew I’ve been hearing about in, what, five seconds? Nice to meet you.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Neil decided it was safer not to explain the look on Trix’s face.

As they waited for their coffee and dessert, Trix chatted animatedly with Neil and Emma, recounting some of their wilder escapades. Neil felt a strange mix of nostalgia and comfort—being back here reminded him of the life he’d left behind, but with Andrew standing beside him, it didn’t feel like he’d truly left anything behind at all.

When their order was ready, Trix handed it over with a wink. "Don’t be a stranger, Neil. Next time you’re in town, you better stop by again."

Neil smirked. "I’ll try."

Back at the Hatford mansion, Emma quickly vanished to who-knows-where, likely off to stir up her usual trouble. Neil and Andrew stood at the edge of the hallway, watching her disappear with a mix of amusement and resignation.

Neil turned to Andrew with a smirk. "So, what do you want to do?"

Andrew shrugged, his expression as impassive as ever, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

Neil thought for a moment, then said, "There’s an indoor pool here. The water’s heated, and it’s actually pretty nice. Feel like going for a swim?"

Andrew tilted his head slightly, considering. After a beat, he gave a small nod. "Sure."

Neil grinned, not entirely surprised but pleased nonetheless. He led the way back to their room, where they changed into swimwear—Neil in a simple pair of blue swim trunks and Andrew in black ones. Andrew tied the string at his waist with a practiced ease, glancing at Neil as if to say, Lead the way.

The trek to the pool was as much a maze as everything else in the mansion. Finally, they reached the glass-enclosed space. The indoor pool was breathtaking, with high vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the snow-covered grounds beyond. The water shimmered in the soft lighting, its surface rippling slightly from the gentle movement of the filtration system. Warm, humid air greeted them as they stepped inside, a welcome contrast to the winter chill outside.

Andrew approached the edge and tested the water with his foot, his face giving nothing away. Then, with the smallest of shrugs, he slipped in with minimal fuss. Neil followed close behind, the heat of the water immediately loosening the tension in his muscles.

They swam in companionable silence for a while. Neil did a few lazy laps, his movements unhurried, while Andrew stayed close to the pool's edge, leaning back against the wall. Eventually, Neil floated over to him, propping his arms on the edge beside Andrew.

"So," Neil said, his voice breaking the silence, "what do you think of England so far?"

Andrew gave him a sidelong look. "It’s fine."

Neil chuckled. "High praise coming from you."

Andrew smirked faintly but didn’t respond. The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Neil let his gaze drift over the water, the sound of it lapping against the pool’s edges filling the space.

"You like the pool?" Neil asked after a moment. "We can come back here whenever you want while we’re stuck in this place."

Andrew’s gaze swept across the pool, his fingers trailing absently through the water. "It’s nice. Quiet."

Neil nodded. "Yeah. That’s one of the few things I like about this mansion—there’s always somewhere to get away from the noise."

Andrew hummed in agreement, then shifted his weight, turning slightly to face Neil. "You’re weirdly comfortable here for someone who hates their family."

Neil’s expression tightened briefly, but he relaxed when he saw Andrew’s calm demeanor. "I don’t hate all of them," he admitted. "Emma and Stuart are... different. They’re not like the rest. Emma’s always been a bit of a rebel, and Stuart..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "He’s complicated, but he’s always supported me in his own way."

Andrew studied Neil, his sharp gaze unwavering. After a moment, he leaned in slightly. "You’re happier here than you let on."

Neil gave a soft laugh. "Maybe," he said.

Andrew smirked. "Good."

Without warning, Andrew reached out and placed a hand on Neil’s waist, pulling him closer. Neil’s breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t resist. Instead, his eyes searched Andrew’s face as Andrew asked, "Yes or no?"

Neil’s lips parted, his answer soft but certain. "Yes."

Andrew’s other hand came up to cradle Neil’s cheek, and then he leaned in, kissing him deeply. Neil melted into the kiss, his hands finding their way to Andrew’s shoulders. The intensity grew as Andrew took control, his hold firm but careful, leaving Neil breathless. The warmth of the pool and Andrew’s touch was overwhelming, and Neil felt himself leaning further into it, drowning in the moment.

But then Neil pulled back slightly, his chest heaving. Andrew’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "What’s wrong?"

Neil gave him a lopsided smile, his voice low. "Nothing’s wrong. I just think we should... continue this in the bedroom."

Andrew studied him for a moment, then gave a small, approving nod. Without another word, they got out of the pool, grabbed their towels, and hurriedly made their way back to their room.

Once they reached their bedroom, Neil and Andrew closed the door behind them. The air was thick with unspoken tension, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a charged, quiet anticipation. Andrew tossed his towel on a nearby chair and turned to face Neil, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharper, more focused than usual.

Neil hesitated for a moment, his hands clutching his own towel. "Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, searching Andrew’s face for any sign of uncertainty.

Andrew stepped closer, closing the space between them. "Yes," he said simply. "Are you?"

Neil nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes."

Andrew reached up, his fingers brushing Neil’s cheek with surprising gentleness. "Then stop overthinking," he murmured, his voice low and steady.

Neil let out a nervous laugh, his hands twitching at his sides. "Can I—" He broke off, swallowing hard. "Where can I touch you?"

Andrew’s eyes softened just a fraction. "My whole upper body," he said, his voice firm and certain. "Chest, arms, neck, shoulders, face, and hair. Anywhere there."

Neil’s breath hitched as he nodded. "Okay."

Andrew leaned in and kissed Neil again, his movements controlled but deliberate. Neil relaxed into it quickly, his hands tentatively coming up to rest on Andrew’s shoulders. When Andrew didn’t pull away, Neil grew bolder, his fingers tracing the contours of Andrew’s arms, feeling the lean muscles beneath his skin.

"Is this okay?" Neil whispered, his lips barely brushing Andrew’s as he spoke.

Andrew gave a short nod. "Yes. Keep going."

Neil’s hands traveled upwards, brushing over Andrew’s collarbones and resting on his chest. The heat of Andrew’s skin sent a thrill through him, and when his fingers hesitated at the edge of Andrew’s neck, Andrew leaned into the touch.

"You don’t have to ask every time," Andrew muttered, his voice rough but not impatient. "I’ll tell you if something’s not okay."

Neil smiled against Andrew’s lips. "Okay"

Encouraged, Neil’s hands slid to Andrew’s face, his thumbs brushing over the sharp line of Andrew’s jaw. Andrew let out a soft hum of approval, and Neil felt a surge of confidence as his fingers threaded into Andrew’s hair. He gave a tentative tug, and Andrew’s lips parted slightly, deepening the kiss.

Andrew’s hands, which had been resting lightly on Neil’s waist, began to move as well. His fingers splayed against Neil’s sides, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between them. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, "Your turn. Where can I touch you?"

Neil blinked, his cheeks flushing as he stammered, "Anywhere."

Andrew smirked, his hands sliding up Neil’s back. "Noted."

As the intensity between them grew, Neil marveled at how careful Andrew was, even as his touches became firmer, more assured. Andrew’s hands found their way to Neil’s face, tilting his chin up to kiss him again, before moving down to his shoulders and chest, each touch deliberate and grounding.

"Is this okay?" Andrew asked, his voice softer now, as his hands brushed over Neil’s ribs.

Neil nodded, his breath catching. "Yes. More than okay."

Andrew continued kissing Neils body until he reach Neils swim trunks. He looked at Neils flustered face and smirked. Neil got even redder. Andrew then kissed Neils covered cock. Neil inhaled sharply and tried hard not to moan. Andrew continued kissing his cock while occasionally looking at Neils reactions. Neil was trying hard not to moan, he even placed his hand over his mouth. Andrew wanted to hear Neils sweet voice. He went to Neil ear:

“Take off your hand from you mouth. I want to hear you.” Andrew whispered with a slightly hoarse voice.

Neil eyes widen, but he nodded. Neil remove his hand from his mouth and Andrew got on his knees right between Neil legs. He moved Neil a bit closer to the edge.

“I am going to take the swim thugs off. Is that okay?” he asked and waited for an answer.

Neil quickly nodded his head,” Yes, it’s okay.” Said because he knew Andrew wanted a verbal answer.

Andrew then took the hem of the swim thugs and pulled them off. Neil flushed and looked at Andrew who was looking at his naked form like that was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

Andrew then went back to his knees and took Neils member in his mouth. Neil felt the warm from Andrew’s mouth and immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

As Andrew continued to suck his member, Neils moans got louder and echoed inside the spacious bedroom. Andrew was really good at this. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, where to wrap his tongue.

Soon Neil finished. The bedroom got quiet again. Neil lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his breathing steady but his mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions. Andrew got beside him, putting his head to rest on Neil’s chest, one hand splayed over Neil’s ribcage. The rhythm of Andrew’s breathing matched Neil’s, a comforting synchronicity that grounded them both.

Neil hesitated for a moment before breaking the silence. “Don’t you want me to…” he trailed as his eyes landed on Andrews hardened member.

Andrew didn’t say anything at first, but then looked at Neil and spoke. “No need. I will take care of it.”

Neil asked. “You sure?”

Andrew hummed softly in response. “I am okay. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” His tone was even, but there was an undertone of contentment that Neil couldn’t ignore.

Neil smiled to himself. It was such an Andrew response—blunt, straightforward, but undeniably honest. He tightened his arm around Andrew’s shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of Andrew’s neck.

“For what it’s worth,” Neil said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Andrew lifted his head slightly to look at Neil, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense. “You’re annoyingly sappy sometimes, you know that?”

Neil chuckled softly. “Yeah, I know.”

Andrew studied him for another moment before settling back down, his head finding its place on Neil’s chest again. “But... me too,” he murmured, so quietly Neil almost missed it.

The admission sent a wave of warmth through Neil, and he felt his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. He didn’t respond, knowing Andrew wouldn’t want him to make a big deal out of it. Instead, he let the silence stretch, filled only by the sound of their breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets.

After a while, Neil said, “You know... I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way. Safe, I mean. With someone else.”

Andrew’s fingers twitched against Neil’s skin, a subtle acknowledgment. “You’re not the only one.”

Neil glanced down at Andrew, surprised by the openness of the comment. He didn’t push for more, though, knowing Andrew shared what he wanted to on his own terms.

Instead, Neil let his hand wander to Andrew’s hair, running his fingers gently through the soft strands. He paused, then asked, “Is this okay?”

Andrew tilted his head slightly, leaning into the touch. “Yes,” he said simply.

Neil smiled again, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Good.”

For the first time in a long time, Neil felt like he wasn’t pretending—like he didn’t have to. And with Andrew beside him, he realized he might actually be happy again.

Neil was half asleep, his head resting on Andrew’s shoulder, their legs tangled under the soft covers. Andrew’s hand idly traced patterns on Neil’s arm, his touch grounding, even as his gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. The quiet in the room was a rare luxury, one Neil wasn’t eager to leave behind.

The door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Emma’s voice rang out, shattering the peace.

Neil flinched, jolting upright as Andrew turned his head toward her, his expression darkening. Emma leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a devilish grin plastered across her face.

“Emma!” Neil groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What the hell?”

Emma didn’t seem fazed by his irritation. “What? It’s already evening, and you’ve had your fun.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Now it’s time for a different kind of fun. There’s a party tonight, and you’re both coming.”

Neil blinked at her, clearly caught off guard. “What party?”

“The pre-ball party,” Emma said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s tradition. A little warm-up for the main event. Only the crème de la crème of London’s elite. Drinks, dancing, a little drama—what’s not to love?”

“I can think of several things,” Andrew deadpanned from his spot in bed.

Emma shot him an unimpressed look. “You’ll survive.” Then, turning back to Neil, she added, “You both have an hour to get ready. I’ve already arranged for outfits. Don’t make me come back here.”

Neil opened his mouth to protest, but Emma cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “No arguments. This is non-negotiable.”

With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared down the hall, leaving the door wide open behind her.

Neil flopped back onto the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “She’s relentless.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “She’s annoying.”

Neil glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not wrong.”

Andrew shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Neil. “Are we actually going to this thing?”

Neil sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If we don’t, she’ll come back with reinforcements. Or worse—she’ll send someone else to drag us there.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if anyone tries to talk to me, I’m walking out.”

Neil chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”

With a resigned groan, he threw back the covers and got out of bed, dragging a hand through his messy hair. Andrew followed, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctant acceptance.

“Let’s get this over with,” Andrew muttered, heading toward the closet where Emma had undoubtedly already stashed their outfits.

Neil grinned at him over his shoulder. “You’ll look great in whatever she picked. Just don’t punch anyone.”

“No promises,” Andrew shot back, though the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smirk.

Neil and Andrew stood before the full-length mirror in their shared room, taking in their outfits for the night. Emma had insisted they look the part for the exclusive event, and Neil had to admit that they were dressed to turn heads.

Neil wore a tailored black blazer with a subtle satin sheen, making his look a bit flashier than usual. Beneath it, he had a deep maroon shirt with a slight V-neck, showing a touch of his collarbone. His black trousers were slim and fitted perfectly, while his polished black boots gave him that extra edge. Neil added a silver bracelet to his wrist and styled his hair in a way that looked both casual and perfectly put together, a touch of rebellious sophistication. The deep burgundy hue of his shirt contrasted sharply with the black of the blazer, making him stand out without overdoing it.

Andrew, on the other hand, wore a sleek, black fitted leather jacket over a crisp white button-up shirt. The jacket had silver zippers along the sides, giving it a bold and edgy flair. He paired the jacket with black skinny jeans and matte black boots, the entire look exuding cool confidence. The white shirt underneath stood out sharply against the dark tones of the jacket, and his messy, tousled hair only added to his effortlessly rebellious vibe. A subtle silver chain around his neck completed the outfit, giving him just enough flash without being too much.

The change in their outfits made for an interesting contrast. While Neil looked sharp and sophisticated with a bit of boldness, Andrew exuded that cool, effortlessly rebellious style that made him stand out in any crowd.

As they entered Electric Brixton, the vibrant energy of the club instantly enveloped Neil, Andrew, and Emma. The venue, a restored cinema from 1913, had kept its old-school charm. The high ceilings, vintage features, and ornate details merged perfectly with the modern touches that had transformed it into one of London’s hottest spots. Neon lights flickered against the walls, while the bass of the music pulsed through the floor, creating a magnetic atmosphere.

The crowd was upscale—rich, influential, and clearly accustomed to these kinds of parties. But Neil didn’t mind. The overwhelming atmosphere, the flashing lights, the heavy beats, and the mingling of voices was exactly what he loved. He wasn’t the type to go out of his way to socialize, but the club’s vibe was enough to draw him in. It was about the feeling of being part of something bigger than himself—the chaos, the music, the rhythm—it was where he thrived.

Andrew, in contrast, was much more reserved. His eyes darted between the crowd, scanning the room, but he wasn’t uncomfortable. He seemed content to let the night unfold around him without needing to dive into it. Neil noticed his posture—leaning against the bar with a quiet confidence, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of his drink in time with the beat. The two of them shared a knowing glance before Emma pulled Neil away, her energy impossible to ignore.

“Come on, Neil!” she shouted over the music. “You know you can’t just stand there all night looking cool! The dance floor is calling your name!”

Neil raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “And why would I do that?”

Emma rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please, the music is too good to ignore. Plus, someone’s got to show these people how it’s done!”

Before he could protest, Emma grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the dance floor. He shot a glance back at Andrew, who seemed to be quietly observing the crowd, and muttered, “Be right back, need to pray Emma off me.” Andrew merely nodded, his faint smirk betraying his amusement.

Once they were in the thick of the crowd, Neil’s hesitation melted away. The pulse of the music took over his body, and before long, he was moving in sync with the rhythm, his body lost in the sound. He didn’t need to socialize, didn’t need to make small talk—he was part of the scene, and that was all he needed.

Emma quickly got swept up in the social whirlwind, finding a group of familiar faces to mingle with. Neil, feeling the energy of the crowd and the music, lost himself further, his body moving fluidly in the dim, flickering lights. Every beat vibrated through him, and for a moment, he forgot about everything else—he was just a part of the rhythm.

Andrew, meanwhile, had remained near the bar, still watching Neil with curiosity. His quiet observation contrasted with Neil’s exuberance on the floor. After a few songs, Neil glanced over to see Andrew standing off to the side, looking like he wasn’t exactly part of the action but wasn’t uncomfortable either. His eyes flicked to Neil briefly, and the brief look said everything.

Breathing heavily, Neil stepped away from the dance floor and made his way back to Andrew. A grin spread across his face as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

Andrew glanced at him, his expression calm. “You seem to be.”

Neil smirked, tossing his head toward the crowd. “You should come dance with me. It would be fun.”

Andrew shook his head lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t dance.”

Neil shrugged, his grin growing wider. “The night’s still young. There’s time for you to change your mind.”

Andrew played along, though his tone remained dry. “Sure.”

Before they could continue their banter, Emma reappeared. She was practically glowing with excitement, as if she’d just found the answer to all the world’s problems. “Neil, come on, let’s find our friends!” she said, grabbing his arm and tugging him along. She turned to Andrew with a knowing smile. “Come on, you too.”

Neil followed her with a slightly amused expression, Andrew trailing behind them. Emma led them toward a quieter section of the club, where a small group of people were standing near a private booth.

“Hey, everyone!” Emma greeted them with a wide grin. The group of friends looked up as she approached, and Neil recognized them all instantly.

There was Trix, the barista from earlier, who smiled warmly at the sight of Neil. Then there was Greyson, one of Neil’s old classmates from before he decided to ditch the traditional education system in favor of homeschooling. Preston was there too, another former classmate of Neil’s. Ember, Emma’s current girlfriend, was perched on one of the chairs, and Ruby, Greyson’s girlfriend, stood beside her, chatting animatedly.

“Come meet everyone, Andrew!” Emma beamed, pushing them both forward.

Trix gave Andrew a friendly smile and extended a hand. “Hey, nice to meet you again. I’m Trix, if you don’t remember” she said.

Greyson gave Andrew a nod and a grin. “Good to see you here, I am Greyson.”

Preston raised an eyebrow at Neil, then looked at Andrew, sizing him up for a moment before offering a casual “Hey. The name is Preston”

Ember flashed a smile at Andrew. “Glad you could make it, call me Ember.”

Ruby also greeted him with a smile, adding, “You seem to be fitting in already. My names Ruby btw.”

Andrew, though reserved, gave them all a polite nod, his cool demeanor never wavering. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

As the night wore on and the group settled into their private booth, the buzz of the club faded into the background, and the group’s attention shifted to each other. Emma, as always, was in her element, laughing and sharing stories. Andrew stood quietly by Neil, observing, but his presence felt oddly comfortable in the midst of the social whirlwind.

The conversation between the group picked up speed, everyone sharing their latest gossip, the usual banter that came with familiar faces. They all seemed to pick up where they left off, teasing each other and reminiscing about the past. Neil had started to feel more at ease as the group fell into their comfortable rhythm as if they have been still together all those months.

Greyson, noticing Neil’s calm demeanor in the middle of all the chatter, leaned back in his seat and turned his attention toward him. "So, Neil, how’ve you been? You’ve been keeping a low profile lately. Not usual for you."

Neil shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, and gave a casual but genuine smile. "Yeah, I’ve been good. Not much to report, really. Just... keeping busy. How about you?"

Greyson leaned in, his voice slightly more conspiratorial now. "Me? Same old. You know how it goes—school, then work, then back to the same old cycle. But seriously, I’m curious, how’ve you been?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to something a little more knowing.

Neil was quiet for a moment, before leaning in slightly. "I’m good, though," he said with a soft chuckle, shrugging again. "Same old, just... living. Trying to stay out of trouble. Speaking of trouble, you still keeping up with your whole 'rebellious phase'?"

Greyson laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Rebellious phase, huh? I like how you put that. Nah, not anymore. I’ve mellowed out... mostly. But I mean, you know me, I still like to shake things up a little. Not a lot, though. I’m kinda focusing on building things up, rather than tearing them down, if you know what I mean."

Neil nodded, appreciating the answer, though it was clear that the real story lay somewhere beneath it. But before he could press, he turned his attention to the others, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What about the rest of you?" Neil asked, his eyes flicking between the group.

Trix was quick to chime in. "I’ve been good, just busy with work. You know, same old café grind. But hey, I’m actually considering going back to school for design. I don’t know, maybe I’ll make something of myself," she said, a playful tone in her voice, but Neil could tell she was serious.

Ruby, sitting beside her, smiled warmly. "I’ve been doing the whole internship thing. It’s honestly a lot, but it’s giving me a glimpse into the industry. I’m just ready to start making it my own. And, you know, I finally convinced Greyson to come out tonight." She laughed, elbowing Greyson lightly.

Greyson just rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness to his expression. "Yeah, yeah, you finally got me here. Don’t remind me."

Preston added his voice, leaning forward with a grin. "And I’ve been working on my startup idea. It’s still in the early stages, but I’m hoping it’ll take off. If it does, I might just be able to leave all this behind and live the dream. You know ditch the family business and all that."

Neil took all this in, soaking up the new details about his old friends, trying to piece together where everyone was in life. The gossip wasn’t much different from what he expected, but it was nice hearing it all again, hearing everyone’s plans and ambitions. He didn’t always keep in touch with everyone the way he should, but tonight he could feel the connection again. It was comforting, familiar.

"Sounds like everyone’s doing well," Neil said, glancing at Andrew for a moment before continuing. "And what about you, Emma?" he teased. "What’s new in your world of chaos?"

Emma flashed him a playful grin, clearly unbothered by the teasing. "Oh, you know me, I’m always up to something. Just keeping things interesting, as usual. No rest for the wicked."

Everyone laughed, the conversation easing into a more relaxed vibe, but Neil remained quietly observant. He enjoyed these moments of comfort, of reconnecting, but he was still an outsider in some ways, watching the dynamics unfold.

Andrew, for his part, hadn’t said much since they’d arrived, though his steady gaze suggested he was taking in everything. He didn’t have the same need to talk as the rest of them, but his presence felt solid, a quiet anchor amidst the ebb and flow of the conversation. Neil occasionally glanced at him, catching his eye once in a while, and it was all the communication they needed.

It wasn’t about talking or asking for validation—it was about being in sync, each of them understanding their place in the group, even if they weren’t always the loudest voices.

As the conversation continued, Neil leaned back in his seat, satisfied with the familiar banter, the comfortable gossip of the night. The music still hummed in the background, but for now, the warmth of old friendships filled the space around him, and for once, he felt like he belonged in the chaos.

And as he glanced over at Andrew again, he couldn't help but feel a small tug of contentment.

As the conversation in their booth continued, the group began to settle into a rhythm of teasing and joking. But soon, the conversation shifted slightly, and Ember, who had been quietly listening to the chatter, suddenly asked with a mischievous smile, "So, Neil, after everything that went down with Henry... Do you have someone now? Emma told me some things, but I don’t want to assume."

Neil froze for just a moment, the mention of Henry causing a slight tension in his posture. The relationship with Henry had been a complicated, painful chapter, and even though time had passed, it still wasn’t something he liked to talk about often. But after a beat, Neil relaxed and shrugged casually, giving Ember a small but genuine smile.

"Yeah," he said simply, "I have a boyfriend now."

Ruby raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Ooh, details, Neil," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "Who’s the lucky guy?"

Before Neil could respond, Preston, who had been sipping his drink, leaned forward with an inquisitive look. "Yeah, man, who is it? You gotta spill," he added with a grin, clearly expecting some sort of dramatic revelation.

Neil, unfazed by the sudden onslaught of attention, simply pointed a finger across the table to where Andrew was sitting quietly. The moment he did, everyone turned their gaze toward Andrew in unison.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat surprised by the sudden focus, but didn’t seem uncomfortable. He simply gave a small nod, his usual calm demeanor taking over.

The group collectively let out a chorus of surprised, excited exclamations.

"What? You two?" Greyson asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice, but there was a playful edge to his words. "How long has this been going on?"

"Wow, Andrew, didn’t see that coming," Ruby chimed in, her eyes wide with surprise, clearly delighted by the unexpected revelation. "You two make a pretty hot couple."

Neil couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the fact that the reaction was exactly what he expected. He didn’t mind the attention, but he wasn’t about to offer up any more details than necessary.

Andrew, though, wasn’t one to give anything away. His expression remained calm, even as the group of friends bombarded them with questions.

"How long has it been, then?" Greyson asked, leaning forward with his usual curiosity. "I don’t remember you mentioning anything, Neil."

Neil gave a slight shrug, taking a sip of his drink. "We’ve been seeing each other for a while," he said casually, not going into specifics. "It’s been good."

"Wait," Preston said, narrowing his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You’re telling me you’ve been with Andrew and didn’t even tell us? You’re a good secret keeper, man."

Neil chuckled, rolling his eyes. "We didn’t exactly make a big deal out of it."

Emma, having caught on to the shift in conversation, added her own comment, clearly amused. "I didn’t know Neil was so good at keeping secrets," she teased. "Is there anything else we don’t know about, Neil?"

Neil gave Emma a pointed look. "Some things are better left untold."

The group erupted into laughter, but the questions kept coming.

"Do you two room together?" Trix asked, her tone playful.

Andrew, never one to reveal too much, only shook his head "No. I would like to, but we don’t have that luck." he said calmly.

"Okay, okay," Trix said, still laughing. "Enough questions for now, I’m just glad you guys are happy."

The group agreed, the playful teasing slowing down as they let Neil and Andrew have their moment of privacy.

Preston leaned in, giving Neil a quick wink. "Well, if you two need some time alone, just say the word," he said with a knowing grin.

Neil laughed, shaking his head at his friends, but he appreciated the warmth and support from the group. It felt good to finally have that part of his life out in the open, even if it had come out in a whirlwind of questions and teasing.

Andrew, still sitting back quietly, looked at Neil, a small, content smile on his lips as he took in the attention before looking back at the others.

"Let’s just enjoy the night, yeah?" Andrew said, his voice calm but grounding.

Neil nodded in agreement, grateful for Andrew’s steady presence. "Yeah," he said, leaning back in his seat. "Let’s just enjoy the night."

Chapter Text

The morning of December 24th dawned cold and crisp, the grounds of the Hatford mansion blanketed in a fresh layer of snow. Inside the grand estate, however, the atmosphere was anything but quiet. The annual Hatford Christmas Ball was the event of the season, and every inch of the mansion seemed alive with activity.

Catering staff bustled through the hallways, carrying trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and decadent desserts. The decorators worked tirelessly in the grand ballroom, arranging towering Christmas trees adorned with gold and silver ornaments, draping garlands of pine and holly along the railings, and placing centerpieces of red roses and candles on every table. A massive chandelier in the center of the room sparkled as if every crystal had been polished individually.

Neil, Andrew, and Emma spent the better part of the day in their own preparations. Emma, always the overachiever, had taken it upon herself to ensure all three of them would look impeccable for the night.

“Neil!” Emma called from her room down the hall, where she had turned the space into a makeshift styling studio. “Don’t think you’re getting away with your usual half-hearted effort. This is our night to shine.”

Neil appeared in the doorway, already exasperated. “Emma, it’s a Christmas ball, not a runway. Nobody’s going to care.”

Emma pointed a hairbrush at him like a weapon. “Oh, they’ll care. You’re a Hatford, and tonight, you’re going to look the part whether you like it or not.”

Andrew, sitting calmly on the edge of Neil’s bed and scrolling through his phone, smirked at the exchange. “You should just let her win. It’s less exhausting.”

Neil shot him a look but knew Andrew was right. He sighed dramatically. “Fine, what’s the plan?”

Emma grinned triumphantly and pulled out three impeccably tailored suits from her closet. “Black tie, obviously. Neil, you’re in the midnight blue. Andrew, classic black. And I’ll be in my emerald green gown, because someone has to outshine the rest of these stuck-up rich people.”

By mid-afternoon, the three of them had showered and changed. Neil tugged uncomfortably at his collar as Emma fussed over the fit of his jacket.

“Stop squirming,” she chastised. “You look amazing.”

Andrew stepped out of the adjoining bathroom, adjusting the cuffs of his sleek black tuxedo. The sharp lines and minimalist design suited him perfectly, and Neil couldn’t help but stare for a moment before quickly looking away.

“You clean up well,” Neil said casually, though his voice was softer than usual.

Andrew glanced at him, his expression unreadable but warm. “So do you.”

By 5:45 p.m., they were all assembled in the grand foyer, waiting for the event to begin. Emma, radiant in her green gown, checked her reflection in a nearby mirror for the hundredth time. Neil and Andrew stood side by side, looking every bit the picture of sophistication in their suits.

“You ready for this?” Neil asked Andrew quietly.

Andrew shrugged. “It’s your world, not mine.”

Neil smiled faintly. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly mine either. Let’s just survive the night.”

At precisely 6 p.m., the mansion’s massive front doors were opened, and the guests began to arrive. Women in glittering gowns and men in sharp tuxedos swept into the ballroom, their laughter and conversation filling the space. The grand Christmas tree in the center of the room seemed to sparkle even brighter as the lights dimmed slightly to enhance the ambiance.

The Hatford family, including Neil, Emma, and Stuart, were expected to greet guests as they arrived. Neil managed a polite smile and handshake with each introduction, while Emma dazzled everyone with her charm. Andrew stood slightly off to the side, observing but always within Neil’s line of sight.

The night was just beginning, and the air buzzed with anticipation. For Neil, the ball was another performance, a chance to navigate the intricate web of expectations and appearances that came with being a Hatford. For Andrew, it was an opportunity to step into Neil’s world and see it for what it truly was.

And for Emma? It was simply another stage on which she could shine.

The grandeur of the Hatford Christmas Ball unfolded in full swing, with guests mingling under the dazzling chandeliers that lit up the lavish ballroom. Neil, Andrew, and Preston stood near a cluster of tall windows, their quiet conversation offering a reprieve from the noise and extravagance of the crowd.

Preston was in the middle of an anecdote about an over-the-top holiday party his family had thrown the previous year. Neil listened with half a smirk, idly swirling the champagne in his glass, while Andrew leaned casually against the wall beside him, his dark gaze flicking over the crowd.

Preston finished his story with a dramatic flourish. “And that’s why my sister isn’t allowed to handle fireworks anymore. The gazebo didn’t stand a chance.”

Neil snorted. “Remind me never to let her near an open flame.”

Before Preston could respond, Emma appeared, slipping through the crowd with a sense of purpose.

“Neil,” she called, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversation, “Dad’s looking for you.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

Emma shrugged dramatically, but there was something unreadable in her expression. “No idea, but I saw him talking to William Clutterbuck.”

Neil froze, his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass. “Clutterbuck?” he repeated, his tone laced with distaste.

Emma nodded, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Yeah. He’s here, if you can believe it. Guess he wormed his way in somehow. Good luck with that.”

With that, Emma turned and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Neil standing there with a sinking feeling.

Preston frowned. “Uncle’s here? Mom told me he won’t be coming. Good God, this is bad.”

“More than bad,” Neil muttered. “The man’s a walking red flag. He’s so snobby, and shady as hell. I’ve talked to him twice, and both times I wanted to run in the opposite direction. I pity you, Preston, since you have to see him at least once a week.”

Andrew tilted his head slightly, studying Neil. “And now you think Stuart wants you to deal with him?”

Neil sighed heavily, setting his glass down on a nearby table. “It’s starting to look that way. Clutterbuck’s always wanted to cozy up to Stuart’s inner circle, but Stuart’s kept him at arm’s length. Whatever he wants tonight, it’s not going to be good.”

Andrew’s gaze sharpened. “You don’t have to go.”

Neil gave him a small, grim smile. “You’re right. I don’t have to. But I don’t think I have much of a choice either.”

He glanced at Preston. “Watch my drink, will you?”

Preston gave a sympathetic nod. “Good luck, man. Knowing my uncle you’re going to need it.”

Neil turned to Andrew, hesitating for a moment before muttering, “I’ll try to make this quick.”

Andrew’s voice was low and firm. “If you need me, just signal.”

Neil nodded, taking a steadying breath before making his way toward Stuart and Clutterbuck, dread settling heavily in his chest. Whatever Clutterbuck wanted, Neil had a feeling it wasn’t going to be anything he wanted to deal with.

Neil quickly spotted Stuart and William Clutterbuck standing near the edge of the ballroom, where the ornate décor seemed to cast an almost theatrical shadow over their conversation. Stuart’s stiff posture and clenched jaw made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about Clutterbuck’s presence.

Forcing a polite smile, Neil approached. “William,” he said smoothly, his voice betraying none of the irritation he felt, “good to see you.”

Clutterbuck turned toward him with an unsettling grin, his sharp eyes glinting under the warm light. “Ah, young Neil! Always a pleasure to see my nephew’s dearest friend. Tell me, how have you been? You’re looking well.”

Neil nodded, his fake smile still firmly in place. “I’ve been fine, thank you. And yourself?”

“Oh, splendid as always,” Clutterbuck replied, waving a hand as though he were dismissing the question. “This event is as grand as ever. Your family truly knows how to put on a spectacle.”

Neil barely suppressed a grimace. He glanced at Stuart, who offered him a faint, almost imperceptible shake of the head. Stuart’s usual charm was absent, replaced by a weariness that told Neil everything he needed to know: Stuart didn’t want Clutterbuck here any more than Neil did.

Just as Neil opened his mouth to excuse himself, Clutterbuck barreled ahead, his tone taking on an almost conspiratorial air. “Neil, my boy, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Neil tensed. He’d been dreading this.

Clutterbuck leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a grand secret. “You see, I’ve been thinking. My daughter, Evelyn—she’s a lovely girl, isn’t she? I couldn’t help but notice that you two would make a perfect match. A handsome young man like you, from such a prominent family, and Evelyn—well, she’s the pride of ours.”

Neil’s stomach turned. He knew exactly where this was going, and he wanted no part of it. But before he could interject, Clutterbuck raised a hand and called out, “Evelyn! Come here, my dear!”

A young woman in a shimmering silver gown made her way toward them, her delicate features framed by soft curls. She looked polite, if not entirely enthusiastic, as she approached.

“This is Evelyn,” Clutterbuck said proudly, gesturing toward her as though presenting a prized possession. “And Evelyn, this is Neil. Isn’t he a fine young man?”

Evelyn gave a small, polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Neil.”

Neil nodded, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. “Nice to meet you too.”

Clutterbuck clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Now, why don’t the two of you share a dance? You’ll look splendid together, I’m sure.”

Neil’s fake smile slipped slightly. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Clutterbuck, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Nonsense!” Clutterbuck said, his tone jovial but insistent. “What’s a ball without a dance?”

Neil shook his head firmly, his voice polite but resolute. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass.”

Clutterbuck’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, turning to Evelyn with an exaggerated chuckle. “Well, I suppose he’s a little shy. No matter, my dear. Another time, perhaps.”

Neil suppressed a sigh of relief, but he could feel Clutterbuck’s eyes on him, assessing, scheming. He cast a glance at Stuart, who looked as though he were barely holding himself back from cutting the conversation short.

Neil straightened his posture, his tone steady as he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to attend to.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, making a beeline back toward Andrew and Preston. He could still feel the weight of Clutterbuck’s gaze, but he pushed it aside. He’d handled the moment, and that was all that mattered for now.

Neil returned to where Andrew and Preston stood near the edge of the ballroom, his irritation evident in the sharp set of his jaw and the way he exhaled through his nose. Andrew tilted his head slightly, studying him with a quiet intensity, while Preston raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Was it that bad?” Preston asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

Neil let out a low groan, running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea just how much.”

Preston smirked knowingly. “What did he want this time? More business connections with Stuart?”

Neil gave a short, humorless laugh. “Worse. He tried to set me up with his daughter. Actually called her over and everything. Tried to push us into dancing together.”

Preston snorted, clearly entertained. “Wow. That’s bold, even for him. Not to mention my cousin is like five years older then you.”

Andrew, who had been silent up to this point, shifted closer to Neil. His hand moved to rest firmly on Neil’s waist, the subtle gesture both grounding and possessive. Neil glanced at him briefly, a flicker of surprise softening his irritation, but he didn’t pull away.

Preston’s smirk grew wider. “Well, well, look at that. Someone’s staking his claim.”

Andrew didn’t bother with words; instead, he shot Preston a pointed look—a silent but unmistakable warning. Shut up.

Preston raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin not fading in the slightest. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. But I’ve got to admit, it’s nice seeing you so territorial, Andrew. It’s almost endearing.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Can we not make this a thing?”

Preston chuckled, but he backed off, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Fine, fine. I’ll be good. For now.”

Andrew didn’t say a word, his hand still resting on Neil’s waist as though daring anyone else to make a comment. Neil, for his part, leaned slightly into Andrew’s touch, his irritation at Clutterbuck slowly fading in the comforting presence of his boyfriend.

“Thanks,” Neil murmured under his breath, so low only Andrew could hear.

Andrew’s response was simple: a slight squeeze of Neil’s waist, his expression remaining calm and unreadable, but his actions saying everything.

As the lively chatter in the ballroom softened and the music shifted to a slow, elegant waltz, Preston excused himself with a sly grin. “Time to see if my charm works tonight,” he quipped, his gaze darting toward a striking young lady standing by the refreshments table.

Neil shook his head fondly, watching Preston stride away. “He’s going to make a fool of himself. Again.”

Andrew hummed in agreement, his lips twitching faintly in a small, amused smirk. His hand, still resting on Neil’s waist, remained as steady as ever, a constant point of warmth that Neil was growing increasingly aware of.

Turning his attention back to Andrew, Neil raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you know how to waltz?”

Andrew’s expression didn’t waver. “No,” he admitted, his tone casual, “but I’m a quick learner.”

Neil chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course you are.” Then, with a playful flourish, he extended his hand toward Andrew, a teasing smile on his lips. “In that case, would you give me the honor of a dance?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, clearly humoring Neil, but the corner of his mouth quirked up just slightly. He slid his hand from Neil’s waist to take his outstretched one, his grip firm but gentle. “Lead the way,” he said, a faint trace of teasing in his voice.

Neil’s grin widened as he stepped onto the ballroom floor, guiding Andrew toward the center. The grand chandeliers overhead cast a soft glow over the room, and the other couples swirled gracefully around them. Neil turned to face Andrew, positioning his hand lightly on Andrew’s shoulder while their joined hands rested between them.

“Alright,” Neil said softly, his tone almost instructive. “It’s not too hard. Just follow my lead.”

Andrew’s eyes locked onto Neil’s, his expression steady and focused. “I’ll manage.”

With that, Neil began to move, leading them into the waltz. His steps were fluid and confident, his body swaying to the rhythm of the music. Andrew followed with surprising ease, his movements smooth despite his lack of experience.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. Neil found himself smiling, genuinely enjoying the moment. “You weren’t kidding about being a quick learner,” he remarked, his tone light.

Andrew’s gaze flicked to Neil’s face, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. “You’re a decent teacher.”

Neil let out a quiet laugh, the sound lost in the soft strains of the music. “I don’t think I’ve ever taught anyone to dance before. But I’m glad you’re not stepping on my toes.”

Andrew tilted his head slightly, his smirk subtle but present. “Yet.”

The two moved seamlessly across the floor, their steps aligning more naturally with each passing moment. Neil couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of contentment as they danced, the music wrapping around them like a cocoon.

By the time the song drew to a close, Neil realized he hadn’t even noticed the other couples around them. It was just him and Andrew, lost in their own rhythm.

As the final note played, Neil stepped back slightly, their hands still joined. “Not bad for your first time,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Andrew simply looked at him, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Not bad for your first time teaching.”

Neil’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, the bustling ballroom around them didn’t matter. It was just the two of them, standing close, the warmth of the dance still lingering between them.

After their waltz, Neil stepped back, his hand still loosely clasping Andrew’s. The room seemed a little too crowded, the noise and movement less inviting now that the spell of their dance had been broken. Neil glanced around the ballroom, watching the swirling colors and glittering lights, before letting out a soft sigh.

“That’s enough socializing for one night,” Neil murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

He turned to Andrew, his gaze meeting steady hazel eyes. “Come on,” Neil said, tugging lightly on Andrew’s hand.

Andrew didn’t resist as Neil led him out of the ballroom, weaving through the guests with practiced ease. The sounds of chatter and music faded as they climbed the stairs back to their room. Once inside, Neil made a beeline for the balcony, pushing open the doors and stepping into the crisp night air.

The chill of the evening wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the warmth of the ballroom below. The snow-dusted grounds of the mansion stretched out in every direction, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. Neil leaned against the wrought-iron railing and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He glanced at Andrew, who wordlessly joined him, mirroring his actions.

For a moment, they smoked in silence, the glow of their cigarettes faint in the winter night. The quiet was comfortable, broken only by the occasional murmur of voices drifting up from the party below.

Neil exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it curl into the air. “It’s funny,” he started, his tone thoughtful. “These balls always feel the same—stuffy, fake, everyone trying too hard. But somehow, this one wasn’t as bad.”

Andrew arched an eyebrow, his cigarette resting lightly between his fingers. “Because of me?” he asked, his tone dry but tinged with curiosity.

Neil smirked, tilting his head as if considering. “Maybe,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice. “You’re definitely more entertaining than most of the people here.”

Andrew hummed, taking a drag from his cigarette. “High praise.”

Neil chuckled, flicking ash over the railing. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, talking about nothing and everything. Neil shared half-hearted complaints about his family’s ridiculous traditions, while Andrew offered dry commentary that had Neil grinning. They debated meaningless topics—whether the snow looked better under moonlight or in the morning sun, whether cigars were truly superior to cigarettes—and shared fragments of stories from their pasts.

Neil leaned against the railing, his arms crossed as the cold breeze nipped at his skin. The glow of Andrew’s cigarette cast faint shadows across his face, highlighting his sharp features in the moonlight. Neil couldn’t help himself—his gaze lingered on Andrew, tracing every line and curve, his chest tightening in ways he refused to analyze too closely.

Without turning his head, Andrew exhaled a stream of smoke and broke the silence. “Stop.”

Neil blinked, momentarily startled. “Stop what?” he asked, feigning innocence, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

“Staring,” Andrew said flatly, finally flicking his gaze toward Neil, his expression unreadable.

Neil’s grin widened as he shrugged. “I can’t help it. You’re so perfect.”

Andrew stiffened almost imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing as if the comment was some kind of challenge. “I’m far from perfect,” he said, his voice quieter but firm.

Neil turned to face him fully, leaning his hip against the railing. “I hate when you think of yourself like that,” he said, his tone losing its playful edge. His voice softened as he continued, “You may not be perfect to everyone or even to yourself, but you’re perfect in my eyes.”

Andrew didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he took another drag of his cigarette, his movements slower now, deliberate. When he turned to meet Neil’s gaze, the words Neil had just spoken seemed to hang between them, heavy and significant.

Though Andrew’s face remained impassive, Neil caught the faintest hint of color creeping up the tips of his ears.

Neil smirked at the telltale flush, but he didn’t tease. Instead, he let the moment settle, the quiet between them feeling more intimate than any words could have been.

Andrew looked away first, his cigarette nearing its end as he exhaled one last stream of smoke. Neil, however, didn’t shift his gaze.

“Stop staring,” Andrew muttered again, though his voice lacked its earlier bite.

Neil chuckled softly. “Not a chance. ” By the time they stubbed out their cigarettes and headed inside, the night had deepened, the ball winding down below. But for Neil and Andrew, the real highlight of the evening had already passed—the quiet, stolen moments on the balcony, just the two of them against the snowy night.

The Hatford mansion was alive with the quiet excitement of Christmas morning, the heavy snow outside adding to the cozy atmosphere within. The warm glow of the fireplace reflected off the polished floors, and the scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air. Emma, Stuart, Neil, and Andrew gathered in the sitting room, a beautifully decorated tree standing tall in the corner, its golden ornaments catching the light.

Emma, as always, was the first to dive into the gift exchange, her excitement contagious.

“For you,” she announced dramatically, handing Neil a neatly wrapped package. Neil opened it to reveal an elegant bottle of cologne and a golden bracelet.

“Thanks, Em. Very on-brand for you,” Neil said with a smirk, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist for now.

Next, she handed Andrew a sleek leather jacket and a pair of high-quality headphones. Andrew ran his fingers over the soft leather, nodding his approval.

“This is great. Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter but genuine.

For Stuart, Emma presented a sophisticated watch and a fine bottle of Scotch. Stuart smiled warmly, clearly pleased.

Stuart’s gifts were equally lavish. He handed Emma a designer handbag, her eyes lighting up as she examined it.

“Perfect choice, dad.” she said, already imagining the outfits she’d pair it with.

For Neil, Stuart gifted a golden ring, simple yet elegant. Neil turned it in his fingers, a rare softness in his expression. “Thanks. It’s great.”

Andrew’s gift was a bottle of Dom Perignon, which earned an appreciative nod.

Neil followed next, giving Stuart a high-quality leather wallet. “Figured it was time for an upgrade,” Neil said casually.

Emma’s present was a pair of designer shoes, which had her beaming. “You actually got my size right. Impressive.”

Finally, Andrew’s gift was a new set of knives, which he examined with quiet appreciation. “Useful,” Andrew said, which was as high a compliment as any.

Andrew, taking Neil’s advice, gave Emma a stunning dress in her favorite shade and Stuart a timeless perfume. Emma twirled with the dress against her, and Stuart gave Andrew a rare smile.

When it came to Neil, Andrew hesitated briefly before handing over his gift—a small box containing a delicate silver key pendant. Neil opened it, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost reverent.

“It’s perfect,” Neil said quietly, slipping the chain around his neck.

“Glad you like it,” Andrew replied, his tone even but his gaze warm.

As the day wore on, the family enjoyed a relaxing afternoon before gathering in the grand dining room for dinner. The long table was laden with traditional dishes, rich and indulgent. Stuart raised a glass to toast the holiday, his voice carrying the rare warmth that only family could bring.

“To family and to moments like this,” he said.

Neil, Andrew, and Emma clinked their glasses with his, the flickering candlelight casting a glow over their faces. Despite their differences and the chaos of their lives, the moment was perfect—a snapshot of peace, warmth, and connection.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to New Year’s Eve were a whirlwind of activity for Neil and Andrew. Neil had taken it upon himself to show Andrew the best places in London, acting as an unexpectedly charming tour guide. From the towering London Eye, on which Andrew refused to get on, to the cobbled streets of Covent Garden, the two explored the city with a mix of curiosity and ease.

Emma often joined them, bringing her contagious energy—and occasionally Ember, who seemed to enjoy the outings just as much. But more often than not, it was just Neil and Andrew, the bustle of London serving as a backdrop to their evolving relationship. They laughed more easily now, found comfort in each other’s presence, and while there were still boundaries neither was ready to cross, they both felt the subtle but undeniable shift in their connection.

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, Stuart gathered Neil, Andrew, and Emma in the sitting room to share his plans.

“I’ve made reservations at The Regency for tonight. A private dining room, excellent view of the fireworks, and, of course, the rest of the family will be there,” Stuart said, swirling the drink in his glass. He looked at them expectantly. “What do you think?”

Emma, predictably, was the first to respond. “Obviously, I’m in. Fancy dinners and expensive champagne? Count me in.”

Neil smirked but remained quiet, glancing briefly at Andrew. He’d spent the past two New Year’s Eves in the company of their extended family—relatives who were more acquaintances than anything else. It wasn’t that he disliked them, but this year felt different. This year, he wanted to celebrate with Andrew, away from the formality and expectations.

Stuart noticed his hesitation. “And you, Neil?”

Neil shifted in his seat. “I think... Andrew and I are going to do our own thing this year.”

Stuart nodded, his expression neutral but understanding. “Fair enough. The offer stands if you change your mind later.”

“Thanks.” Neil said.

With the cook off-duty for New Year’s, Neil and Andrew found themselves in the mansion’s massive, gleaming kitchen, staring at a mountain of ingredients and a cookbook propped up on the counter.

“This doesn’t look so hard,” Neil had said optimistically as he flipped through the pages.

Andrew, leaning against the counter, merely raised an eyebrow.

Neil tied an apron around his waist and set about gathering the ingredients for Lancashire hotpot, a classic English dish Stuart had mentioned during dinner once. Neil figured it would be a good way to surprise Andrew—and himself. But it didn’t take long for chaos to unfold.

For the next half-hour, Andrew watched silently as Neil clattered around the kitchen, dropping utensils, measuring ingredients haphazardly, and muttering curses under his breath when things didn’t go as planned.

At one point, Neil managed to burn the onions he was supposed to caramelize and nearly dropped the bowl of sliced potatoes meant to layer the dish. “This stove is cursed,” Neil declared, glaring at the gleaming appliance.

Andrew, arms crossed, finally decided enough was enough.

“Give me the cookbook,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Neil turned to him, a frustrated look on his face. “I can handle it.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, then pointed at the pile of unevenly chopped vegetables and the smoking pan. “Sure you can.”

Neil hesitated before sighing and sliding the cookbook across the counter toward Andrew. “Fine. But if you make a mess, I’m blaming you.”

Andrew smirked faintly and rolled up his sleeves, then removed the armbands he’d been wearing, setting them neatly on the counter. Neil couldn’t help but watch, slightly stunned. Andrew rarely offered to do anything domestic.

Andrew scanned the recipe with sharp eyes, then started gathering the ingredients Neil had scattered around. His movements were deliberate and efficient, like he’d done this a hundred times before. He sliced vegetables with precision, seasoned the lamb evenly, and layered the potatoes with a deft hand.

Neil leaned against the counter, watching in disbelief. “How do you know how to do this?”

Andrew didn’t look up as he worked. “I’ve read about it.”

Neil laughed. “You’ve read about cooking? That doesn’t explain this.” He gestured to the neatly assembled hotpot ready for the oven.

Andrew finally looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I’m good at following instructions.”

Neil smirked. “You make it look too easy. It’s unfair.”

Andrew shrugged, sliding the dish into the oven. “Maybe you’re just bad at it.”

Neil opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the faint twitch of a smile on Andrew’s lips. “You’re enjoying this,” Neil accused, pointing at him.

Andrew didn’t deny it.

As the hotpot baked, Neil couldn’t resist sneaking a few glances at Andrew. There was something oddly endearing about seeing him in a kitchen, sleeves rolled up, calm and collected amidst the chaos Neil had left behind.

When the timer finally went off, Andrew pulled the dish from the oven, the kitchen filling with the savory aroma of slow-cooked lamb and potatoes.

Neil grabbed two plates and grinned. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You saved dinner. Happy?”

Andrew handed him a plate, his smirk returning. “I’ll be happy if you don’t burn the mansion down next time.”

Neil laughed, sitting down at the counter as they dug in. The meal was perfect—comforting, flavorful, and exactly what they needed after the long day.

“You know,” Neil said between bites, “I might make you my personal chef.”

Andrew gave him a deadpan look. “Don’t push your luck.”

Neil grinned, leaning closer. “Too late.”

After finishing their dinner, Andrew and Neil decided to spend the rest of the evening with a movie. The Hatford mansion’s theater room was the perfect place—a luxurious space with plush recliners, dimmable lights, and a massive screen that made it feel like their own private cinema.

Neil took charge of making the popcorn, insisting he had one culinary skill he could manage without Andrew's intervention.

Andrew leaned against the counter in the kitchen, arms crossed, as Neil loaded the popcorn machine. “Sure you don’t want my help with that?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Neil shot him a mock glare. “Popcorn is foolproof. Even I can’t mess this up.”

A few minutes later, the smell of freshly popped kernels filled the kitchen. Neil triumphantly scooped the popcorn into a large bowl and carried it out, only to find Andrew waiting with a smug look.

“Surprised you didn’t burn it,” Andrew teased as they walked to the theater room.

Neil gave him an exaggerated pout, holding the popcorn bowl closer to himself. “Why are you always so mean to me?”

Andrew tilted his head slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Because you make it so easy.”

Neil huffed but didn’t argue, leading the way into the theater room.

Settling into the cozy recliners, Neil handed the popcorn to Andrew and grabbed the remote. “So,” he began, scrolling through the selection, “what are we watching? Action? Comedy? Something so bad it’s good?”

Andrew shrugged. “You pick.”

Neil smirked, quickly navigating to an older action flick he loved. “Alright, but don’t complain if it’s over-the-top and ridiculous.”

Andrew leaned back in his seat, stealing a handful of popcorn. “I won’t.”

The lights dimmed as the movie began, the booming soundtrack filling the room. Neil immediately became engrossed in the film, occasionally munching on popcorn and glancing at Andrew to gauge his reaction.

Andrew, as usual, was calm and composed, his attention seemingly fixed on the screen. But every so often, Neil caught the faintest curve of a smirk or the smallest chuckle at a particularly absurd scene.

Midway through the movie, Neil turned to Andrew, his grin wide. “I told you this movie is fun.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly!” Neil laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

Andrew caught it effortlessly and popped it into his mouth without breaking eye contact, his calm demeanor intact. Neil couldn’t help but laugh harder.

As the movie continued, the two settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional comment or laugh. By the time the credits rolled, Neil felt a rare sense of contentment—a perfect mix of Andrew’s steady presence and the lighthearted atmosphere of the evening.

Neil stretched, reclining in his chair. “Okay, that was a good choice.”

Andrew glanced at him. “You’ll want to pick something worse next time, won’t you?”

Neil grinned. “You know me too well.”

As the credits faded on the screen, Neil leaned back in his recliner, his gaze flicking toward Andrew with a sly smile. “You know what this night is missing?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Alcohol?”

“Bingo.” Neil sat up, already moving to stand. “I mean, it’s New Year’s Eve. It’s practically a rule to have a drink or two—or ten.”

Andrew smirked faintly, stretching his arms before getting up as well. “Not a New Year if you don’t get wasted, huh?”

Neil laughed, leading the way to the mansion’s well-stocked bar. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and another of champagne, holding them up for Andrew to choose.

“Both,” Andrew said simply, grabbing the champagne bottle and a couple of glasses before following Neil back to their room.

Once inside their room, the atmosphere shifted to something more relaxed. Neil poured them each a glass of champagne to start, handing one to Andrew before raising his own.

“To not screwing up another year,” Neil said with a grin, clinking his glass against Andrew’s.

Andrew took a sip, his eyes fixed on Neil. “You really know how to inspire confidence.”

Neil laughed, setting the glass down and grabbing the whiskey bottle to pour himself another drink. The alcohol quickly loosened both their moods, their usual banter growing lighter and more playful.

At some point, Neil turned on the speaker in the corner of the room, scrolling through his playlist until an upbeat song filled the space.

Andrew gave him a skeptical look. “Music now?”

“Come on,” Neil said, grinning mischievously. He took a sip of his drink before setting it aside. “Dance with me.”

Andrew looked at him like he’d just suggested something absurd. “I don’t dance.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “You said the same thing at the ball, and we both know how that turned out. Don’t make me drag you.”

Andrew sighed dramatically, setting his glass down. “Fine. But only because you’re drunk, and I’m feeling charitable.”

Neil laughed, grabbing Andrew’s hand and pulling him into the open space in the room. The music pulsed through the air as Neil started moving to the beat, his grin wide and uninhibited.

Andrew stood stiffly at first, pretending to be annoyed, but Neil’s infectious energy wore him down. He eventually started moving, his steps awkward but deliberate as he tried to mimic Neil’s rhythm.

Neil couldn’t stop laughing, pointing at Andrew’s half-hearted moves. “You look like a robot trying to learn emotions!”

Andrew rolled his eyes but smirked. “And you look like you’re in a bad ‘80s music video.”

Neil grabbed Andrew’s hand, spinning him around with exaggerated flair. “Admit it, you’re having fun.”

Andrew shook his head, though a small smile betrayed him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you secretly love it,” Neil teased, stepping closer.

Andrew didn’t respond, instead letting Neil guide him into the rhythm of the music. They danced and laughed, the alcohol making them bolder and their movements looser.

By the time the playlist shifted to slower songs, they were both out of breath but grinning like idiots. Neil leaned his head against Andrew’s shoulder, still swaying gently to the music.

“See? Dancing isn’t so bad,” Neil mumbled.

Andrew hummed in agreement, his arm wrapping around Neil’s waist. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it.”

Neil chuckled softly, his eyes half-closed. “You’re a terrible liar, Minyard.”

They stayed like that, swaying together to the soft music, the rest of the world fading away as the New Year drew closer.

The music had faded into the background as Neil and Andrew collapsed onto the edge of the bed, their faces flushed and their clothes damp with sweat. Neil’s laughter bubbled up again as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, glancing at Andrew.

“See? Dancing’s a workout. Who needs a gym?”

Andrew, sitting next to him with an expression bordering on disgust, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I feel gross.”

Neil smirked. “Then go shower. Problem solved.”

Andrew stood, already heading for the bathroom, when Neil’s voice stopped him.

“Hey.” Neil leaned back on his elbows, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What if we just take a bath? Together.”

Andrew turned to look at him, his expression unreadable as he mulled it over. Finally, he shrugged. “Fine. But if you try anything, I’m drowning you.”

Neil laughed, pushing himself up to follow. “Noted. Come on, Minyard, let’s get civilized again.”

The large bathtub in the ensuite was practically a small pool, its modern design gleaming under the bathroom lights. Neil started filling it, tossing in some bath salts Emma had left behind, their light lavender scent quickly filling the room.

Andrew stripped without ceremony, stepping into the steaming water with a quiet sigh. Neil followed, sliding in on the opposite side of the tub.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the warm water soothing their sore muscles. Neil leaned back, letting his eyes close as he stretched his legs out.

“This is nice,” Neil murmured, his voice softer now.

Andrew didn’t respond immediately. He leaned his head against the edge of the tub, his sharp gaze fixed on Neil. “You talk too much.”

Neil opened one eye, grinning. “And you don’t talk enough.”

Andrew smirked faintly, reaching for the water and letting it cascade through his fingers. “What do you want to talk about, Hatford”

Neil thought for a moment before shrugging. “Anything. Everything. How you managed to become an excellent cook, for starters.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change, but his tone held a hint of amusement. “It’s called following instructions. You should try it sometime.”

Neil chuckled, flicking a little water toward Andrew. “Maybe you should give me lessons, then.”

Andrew dodged the splash with a lazy tilt of his head. “I don’t have that much patience.”

Their conversation drifted from cooking to random anecdotes, Neil sharing stories about the places he’d traveled and Andrew offering curt but insightful remarks about the absurdity of some of Neil’s decisions.

It wasn’t about the words themselves but the ease between them—the unspoken understanding that these moments weren’t about filling silence but about sharing space.

At one point, Neil let his head rest against the tub’s edge, watching Andrew with a soft smile. “You’re not as scary as you think you are, you know.”

Andrew arched a brow, glancing at Neil. “That so?”

“Yeah.” Neil’s smile widened. “You’re kind of a softie.”

Andrew’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile before he reached out to flick water back at Neil. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The warm water sloshed gently around them as Neil leaned back against the edge of the tub, his eyes half-lidded in relaxation. He had been talking, recounting a ridiculous story about one of his early escapades.

Andrew, sitting across from him, had his usual impassive expression, but Neil caught the faintest quirk of his lips as he listened.

“And then,” Neil continued, chuckling to himself, “Emma hit the poor boy with her bag. I had to convince her to not beat him up just because he tried to flirt with Ember.”

Andrew hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Sounds like you.”

Neil grinned, his eyes darting to Andrew. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Andrew didn’t respond, but there was a flicker of something teasing in his gaze. Instead of answering, he shifted forward in the water. Without a word, he reached out, pulling Neil gently back against his chest.

Neil froze for a second, surprised, before relaxing into the embrace. Andrew’s arms circled loosely around Neil’s waist, his chin resting lightly on Neil’s shoulder. The warmth of Andrew’s body was a comforting contrast to the cooling water.

Neil tilted his head slightly, his voice softer now. “What’s this about?”

Andrew shrugged, the motion barely noticeable. “You talk too much.”

Neil let out a quiet laugh, leaning his head back against Andrew’s shoulder. “You know, for someone who complains about it, you don’t seem to mind listening.”

Andrew didn’t reply, but Neil felt the faintest squeeze of his arms around his waist.

They sat like that for a while, the conversation slowing as the quiet between them deepened. Neil felt the steady rise and fall of Andrew’s chest behind him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Neil’s skin beneath the water.

Eventually, Neil broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like this.”

Andrew shifted slightly, his breath warm against Neil’s ear. “Of course you do.”

Neil smiled, closing his eyes and letting himself relax completely in Andrew’s arms. The world outside the bathroom melted away, leaving only the quiet intimacy between them. For once, Neil didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

He had everything he needed right here.

They stayed in the tub until the water began to cool. As they finally stepped out, drying off and dressing in comfortable clothes, Neil felt an unfamiliar warmth that had nothing to do with the bath.

It wasn’t just the water or the quiet—it was Andrew. Their closeness, their trust, and the quiet moments that Neil knew he’d remember long after this night was over.

The cold night air wrapped around them as Neil and Andrew stood on the balcony, a faint glow of orange from their shared cigarette flickering between them. The city skyline stretched out in the distance, its lights shimmering like scattered stars. Neil leaned casually against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he took a drag and passed the cigarette to Andrew.

"Not bad for a New Year’s Eve," Neil mused, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the air.

Andrew, his usual quiet self, took the cigarette without a word. He didn’t respond, but Neil didn’t mind. This was their rhythm—simple, easy.

The first burst of fireworks exploded in the sky, painting it in vibrant streaks of red and gold. Neil tilted his head up, a small smile tugging at his lips. More fireworks followed, each one lighting up the night in dazzling displays.

As the colors danced across the sky, Neil turned to Andrew, his voice soft but tinged with mischief. "Happy New Year, Drew."

Andrew looked at him, his expression unreadable but his eyes holding that steady warmth Neil had come to understand. “Happy New Year, Neil,” he said. Then, after a brief pause, Andrew added, “Yes or no?”

Neil blinked, caught off guard. A grin broke across his face as he leaned closer to Andrew, his breath curling in the cold night air. “Wow, look at you. Fireworks in the background and everything. How romantic.”

Andrew didn’t flinch, but Neil saw the faint twitch of his brow, the smallest hint of amusement in his expression.

“Yeah,” Neil said, still grinning, “the answer’s yes.”

Andrew didn’t waste a second. He closed the small distance between them, his hand finding Neil’s cheek as he kissed him, slow and deliberate. Neil responded instantly, his fingers brushing against the back of Andrew’s neck, pulling him closer as the sky erupted in bursts of light and color above them.

When they finally pulled apart, Neil let out a breathless laugh. “Not bad for a New Year’s kiss.”

Andrew smirked faintly, his hand still resting lightly on Neil’s jaw. “Better get used to it.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, I think I already did.”

The fireworks continued to light up the sky, but neither of them seemed to notice anymore. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was each other.

The morning was sluggish, filled with groggy goodbyes and the faint remnants of hangovers from the New Year’s celebration. Despite their throbbing heads, everyone seemed happy, a warm atmosphere settling over the Hatford mansion.

Unfortunately, it was time to leave and go back to Palmetto. Neil stood near the car that would take him and Andrew to the airport, his suitcase in his hand as he glanced back at the towering mansion. It felt strange, leaving again after such an eventful visit.

Emma was the first to approach him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Don’t forget to call, okay? And next time, don’t wait so long to come back,” she said, her voice thick with emotion despite her teasing tone.

Neil hugged her back, his grip firm. “I’ll call,” he promised. “Take care of yourself. And try not to cause too much chaos without me.”

Emma pulled back, rolling her eyes but smiling. “No promises.”

Stuart stepped forward next, his expression reserved but warm. He clapped a hand on Neil’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. “You’ll always have a place here, Neil. Don’t forget that.”

Neil nodded, his throat tight. “Thanks, Stuart. For everything.”

Stuart gave him a small smile, then shifted his gaze to Andrew, who had been standing quietly nearby. There was a pause, but Stuart broke it with a nod. “Safe flight, Andrew. And... I’m glad Neil has you.”

Andrew blinked, caught off guard for a moment, but he recovered quickly, offering a nod in return. “Thank you. For having me.”

With that, the goodbyes were done. As the car pulled away from the mansion, Neil looked out the window, watching Emma wave enthusiastically while Stuart stood stoically beside her.

The drive to the airport was quiet at first, but Neil’s thoughts were loud. He glanced at Andrew, who was staring out his own window, his posture relaxed.

“So,” Neil said eventually, breaking the silence, “how do you think I should explain this to the Foxes?”

Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Explain what?”

Neil gave a wry smile. “You know, the part where I basically kidnapped you to England without telling them.”

Andrew shrugged, unfazed. “Tell them it was my idea.”

Neil laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over great.”

Andrew didn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward, the closest thing to a smile Neil had seen all morning.

As their plane took off later that day, Neil felt a mix of emotions—relief, nostalgia, and a quiet contentment. England had been a whirlwind, but it was time to go back.

Chapter Text

The plane landed with a jolt, and Neil glanced at Andrew, who sat rigid in his seat. Andrew’s fingers curled tightly around the armrest, his jaw set in a way that only Neil would recognize as discomfort. Heights weren’t Andrew’s thing, and long flights didn’t make it any easier.

Neil didn’t say anything—he knew better than to draw attention to it. Instead, he focused on the instructions of the flight crew, his thoughts already on the next part of their journey.

As they exited the terminal, Neil spotted his gray Jaguar F-Pace parked neatly where Stuart had arranged for it. Relief washed over him at the sight of something familiar, and a flicker of curiosity passed over Andrew’s face as his gaze lingered on the car.

Neil smirked. “What do you think?”

Andrew didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked around to the passenger side, his fingers brushing the smooth metallic surface before settling into the seat. “It’s not too bad.” he said at last, his tone neutral but lacking its usual sharpness.

Neil chuckled, slipping into the driver’s seat. “Glad to know it meets your standards.”

The drive back to Palmetto was quiet at first, the car’s engine humming softly as they left the airport behind. Neil kept his eyes on the road, the rhythm of driving helping to settle his nerves about the Foxes’ inevitable questions. He glanced at Andrew occasionally, who seemed more relaxed now that they were firmly on the ground, one arm resting against the doorframe.

It wasn’t until they were well outside the city, the trees of South Carolina blurring past, that Andrew broke the silence.

“You want to go to Columbia on Friday?”

Neil smiled faintly, his grip on the steering wheel easing. “Sounds good. We could use a break from the chaos.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but Neil caught the faintest shift of his lips in what might have been agreement.

The familiar chaos of Fox Tower greeted Neil and Andrew as they stepped into the common room. The room smelled faintly of pizza and coffee, a leftover testament to the team’s typical habits. As Neil had suspected, the rest of the Foxes were already back from their respective holidays, their chatter filling the space—until they spotted Andrew walking in behind him.

A stunned silence fell over the group for a brief moment. Then, predictably, Nicky broke it.

“Holy—Andrew?” Nicky’s jaw practically hit the floor, his voice louder than necessary. “Is that really you? What the hell?”

Before Andrew could even roll his eyes, Seth jumped in, his brow furrowed. “Wait, wasn’t he still at the mental hospital? When did this happen?”

Aaron was next, his voice sharp and confused. “You weren’t at Easthaven?” He looked at Andrew like he was trying to figure out how he had missed something so important.

Kevin, ever the pragmatist, folded his arms with a scowl. “I need to know when you were released so I can calculate how many practices you’ve missed. If you’ve gotten rusty—”

“Kevin.” Dan cut him off with a warning glance before turning her attention to Neil and Andrew. “Okay, seriously, when was Andrew released? Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

Matt, ever the peacemaker, raised his hands in a futile attempt to calm the room. “Guys, can we let them breathe for, like, five seconds?”

Allison, meanwhile, stood off to the side, her sharp eyes darting between Neil and Andrew. A slow, knowing smirk curled across her lips as if she were already placing a bet in her head.

Neil sighed, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “Enough!”

Everyone fell quiet, their eyes snapping to him. Neil folded his arms, standing firm beside Andrew, who seemed unbothered by the attention but had a faint edge of irritation in his eyes.

“Andrew was released before Christmas. I went and picked him up from Easthaven” Neil said firmly. “Coach knew about it, but I told him not to tell you. Andrew spent Christmas and New Year with me.”

The room was silent for a beat, and then, of course, Allison couldn’t help herself.

“With you?” she said, her smirk widening. “How sweet. So, tell me, are you two—”

Andrew’s sharp look was enough to stop her mid-sentence, though it didn’t wipe the amusement off her face.

Matt coughed awkwardly. “Uh, welcome back, Andrew,” he said, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Yeah, welcome back,” Dan echoed, her tone warmer but still cautious as she glanced between Neil and Andrew.

“Thanks,” Andrew said flatly, his hand brushing Neil’s elbow briefly before he turned and headed toward the kitchen.

As Andrew walked away, Allison sidled up to Neil, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just saying,” she murmured, “you two are way too obvious.”

Neil didn’t dignify her with a response, though his faint scowl was answer enough.

As soon as Andrew disappeared into the kitchen, Aaron’s glare snapped to Neil, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“So let me get this straight,” Aaron began, his tone dripping with disbelief and irritation. “You kidnapped my brother, dragged him across the ocean to England, and didn’t bother to tell me—or anyone else—about it?”

Neil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t kidnap him,” he replied flatly. “Andrew made his own decision to come with me.”

Aaron scoffed. “Yeah, because you asked him to, didn’t you?”

Nicky’s eyes darted between them, clearly torn between staying out of it and jumping in. “Uh, maybe this isn’t the time—”

“Oh, it’s the time,” Aaron snapped, his glare intensifying. “This whole thing is insane. And the coach knew? Are you serious? You kept it from the rest of us, but the coach gets to know?”

Neil folded his arms, meeting Aaron’s frustration with calm defiance. “The coach needed to know so he wouldn’t worry about Andrew. And as for telling you—” Neil shrugged. “Andrew doesn’t owe you an explanation. He doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. Just because you are working things out doesn’t mean that you are suddenly entitle to know everything about him.”

Aaron opened his mouth to retort, but Andrew’s voice cut through the room as he returned from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand.

“Enough,” Andrew said, his tone cold and final. He fixed Aaron with a steely gaze that made the younger Minyard hesitate. “Neil didn’t kidnap me. I went because I wanted to.”

Aaron huffed, shifting uncomfortably under Andrew’s sharp look. “Still,” he muttered, “a heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Andrew tilted his head, his expression indifferent but dangerous. “Do you need me to start sending you a daily itinerary of my life? Did you forgot the shits you have pulled in the past or do I need to remind you? I didn’t do something you haven’t already done.”

Aaron glared back, though the heat in his tone had dampened. “Fine. Whatever.”

As the tension from Aaron’s complaints settled, Nicky crossed his arms and fixed Neil with an exaggerated pout.

“You kidnapped Andrew to England,” Nicky began, his tone full of mock outrage, “and didn’t even think to take me? Are you serious? London’s, like, one of my dream destinations!”

Neil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “I’ve lived there. It’s not that special.”

Nicky gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Not that special? Neil, it’s London. It has Big Ben, red phone booths, cute little pubs, and—oh my god—the fashion! How could you go without me?”

Neil shrugged, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Because I wasn’t going there for sightseeing.”

“Still!” Nicky whined. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to go? You live there. You could’ve been my personal tour guide! You could’ve taken me to all the hidden gems, not just the tourist traps. But nooo, you just whisked Andrew away instead.”

Andrew, perched on the armrest of the couch, let out a quiet, unimpressed, “Mm.”

Nicky turned to him, exasperated. “Don’t ‘mm’ me, Andrew! You went and didn’t think to smuggle me in your suitcase?”

Andrew glanced at Nicky, taking a sip of his coffee. “I would’ve thrown the suitcase off the plane.”

Renee laughed softly, cutting into the exchange. “I do want to hear more, though,” she said, her voice warm and curious as she turned to Neil. “How was it? Did it feel good to be back in London?”

Neil considered her question, his expression softening slightly. “It was... good to be back after so long.”

“You enjoy it then?” Renee asked gently.

Neil shrugged. “I did, but it was still exhausting . I don’t like most people in my family. My uncle and Emma are the only exception.”

Renee nodded in understanding, while Nicky groaned loudly.

“But did you at least do something fun?” Nicky asked, desperate for some excitement in Neil’s recounting.

Neil smirked faintly. “We did some touristy stuff. Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, Harrods. Emma insisted on the last one. She wouldn’t let us skip it.”

“Harrods?” Allison perked up, her eyes gleaming. “Tell me you bought something fabulous.”

Neil gave her a dry look. “Not exactly. Andrew almost snapped at someone for bumping into him, so we didn’t linger.”

Andrew shot him a sharp look, and Neil’s smirk widened slightly.

“You wasted a trip to Harrods?” Nicky cried, looking scandalized. “Neil, do you even understand what you had in front of you? Harrods is an institution!”

“It’s also crowded and overpriced,” Neil countered, his tone deadpan. “Not really our scene.”

Nicky sighed, utterly defeated, while Renee smiled warmly.

“Well, it sounds like it was still a meaningful trip, even if you weren’t there for the tourist attractions,” she said kindly.

Neil nodded. “It was.”

Nicky pouted again, his gaze shifting to Andrew. “Andrew, please tell me you at least enjoyed it a little.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “It was tolerable.”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “That’s the most glowing review I’m ever going to get from you, isn’t it?”

Andrew didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly as he sipped his coffee.

The room burst into laughter, the earlier tension finally dissipating entirely. It was time for practice so the Foxes quickly left the dorms.

After practice, the Foxes filtered out of the locker room, leaving Neil to his usual routines. Neil had changed quickly, tying his shoelaces with practiced ease, ready for a run to clear his head. He stood, grabbing his hoodie and heading for the door when his phone buzzed on the bench.

The screen lit up with an unknown number. Neil paused, debating for a moment before picking up.

“Hello?”

“About time,” came the dry voice on the other end. “I was starting to think you didn’t know how to answer a phone.”

Neil blinked, caught off guard before a slow grin tugged at his lips. “Ichiro? Wow, I didn’t know you could use a phone. What’s next? Sending a text? Maybe learning emojis?”

Ichiro snorted. “Hilarious. Keep it up, Hatford. I can always hang up.”

“And yet you haven’t. What do you want?”

Ichiro’s tone shifted, growing more serious. “My uncle told me what happened at the Christmas banquet.”

Neil’s grin faltered, his posture stiffening. He leaned against the locker, his hand tightening around the phone. “Did he?”

“Yes.” Ichiro’s voice carried a note of dry exasperation. “Apparently, you decided to make a scene with Riko. Care to explain?”

Neil’s jaw clenched, but his voice remained even. “Riko thought he could threaten Andrew. I just made sure he understood why he shouldn’t dare to even speak his name.”

“Brilliant.” Ichiro sighed heavily. “Do you have any idea how much work you’ve dumped on me because of your stunt?”

Neil shrugged, though Ichiro couldn’t see it. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“Too much,” Ichiro bit out. “And since you’re so good at causing problems, you’re going to help fix them.”

Neil let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve got to be kidding. How exactly do you expect me to fix your mess?”

“It’s your mess,” Ichiro corrected sharply. “And you’ll start by translating some documents for me.”

“Of course,” Neil said dryly, rubbing his temple. “Why not? Anything else you need while I’m at it? Maybe some coffee or a foot massage?”

“Just check your email tonight,” Ichiro replied, his tone clipped. “You’ll have everything you need. Don’t screw it up.”

Before Neil could respond, the line went dead. He stared at his phone, unimpressed, before slipping it into his pocket with a sigh.

“What’s wrong now?” came Andrew’s voice from behind him.

Neil turned to see Andrew leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in his usual deadpan expression.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Neil replied with a faint smirk. “Ichiro just wants me to translate something for him.”

Andrew’s gaze narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. “And you’re doing it? Didn’t you say that you will work for him after graduation?”

Neil shrugged. “It’s easier than arguing with him.”

Andrew didn’t respond immediately, his eyes lingering on Neil before he gave a slight nod. “Your run’s waiting.”

Neil smiled, grabbing his hoodie. “See you back at the dorm.”

As Neil jogged out of the locker room, he couldn’t help the wry chuckle that escaped him. Whatever Ichiro had planned, Neil would handle it. Just like he always did.

The week passed in a blur of practices, classes, and the chaotic energy of the Foxes. Neil fell back into the routine faster than expected, his body remembering the rhythm of drills and games even after the holiday break. Adjusting to the noise and the constant presence of his teammates was a little harder, but not by much. It was strange how normal chaos had become.

The highlight of the week had been a typical display of Foxes shenanigans.

Dan had approached Wymack in the middle of practice, clipboard in hand and determination in her eyes. “Coach, we need to rearrange the trophy shelf again so it would fit this year trophy.”

Wymack, already rubbing his temples from a long day, shot her a look. “Dan, the board isn’t going to sign off on something like that until we’ve made it through the second death match.”

Dan opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Allison’s voice cut through. “Who needs the board? I’ll just buy a new shelf myself. Problem solved.”

Nicky let out a low whistle, leaning back against the wall with a smirk. “Man, it must be nice to be young and rich. Just throwing money at problems like it’s nothing.”

Neil, who had been quiet until then, couldn’t resist. “Yes,” he said flatly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It is.”

The laughter that followed was enough to momentarily ease the tension of the room, even if Wymack still looked like he was considering throwing something.

By Friday, the monotony of the week had worn off. True to Andrew’s words, their small group found themselves at Eden’s Twilight, occupying their usual table. The room was dimly lit, the low hum of music and murmured conversations surrounding them. Kevin and Aaron had wandered off to the bar for drinks, and Nicky had disappeared somewhere into the crowd, leaving only Neil and Andrew at the table.

Neil leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his glass and glancing at Andrew, who was nursing his usual drink. The silence between them was comfortable, the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling.

Neil drained the last sip from his glass and stood, heading toward the bar for another drink. The bar was still buzzing with activity, and as Neil reached the counter, he spotted a familiar face behind it. Roland.

The bartender caught sight of him almost immediately and smirked, leaning on the counter as Neil approached. “I’ll be damned,” Roland said. “I was starting to think I wouldn’t see you again.”

Neil offered a small shrug, his tone easy. “We’ve been busy. Then Andrew and I went to England for the break.”

Roland raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “England, huh? Fancy. So, you and Andrew...?” He let the question hang, his tone leaving no doubt about what he was implying.

Neil finished the thought for him, his voice steady. “Not just a hookup.”

Roland chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed a glass and started preparing Neil’s drink. “Good. He needs someone steady, someone who doesn’t run when things get hard.”

Neil watched Roland’s practiced movements, his curiosity piqued. “How long have you known Andrew?”

Roland tilted his head as he added ice to the glass. “A few years. Back when he used to work here. He was...different then.” Roland glanced at Neil briefly, something softer in his expression. “He’s better now. Whatever you’re doing, keep at it.”

Neil hummed in response, content to let the conversation drift, but Roland wasn’t done.

“Gotta ask, though,” Roland said, his grin turning sly. “Has sobriety made him change his rules about touching?”

Neil blinked, momentarily confused by the question. But the look on Roland’s face, paired with the context of their conversation, made something click. Realization dawned on him. “You and Andrew?” he asked, more intrigued than anything else.

Roland slid the drink across the counter, giving Neil a casual shrug. “Nothing serious. We were both in it for the same reasons back then.”

Neil nodded, his expression didn’t falter, but his voice turned sharp with curiosity. “His past habits,” he said, keeping his tone deliberately neutral. “What were they like?”

Roland leaned on the counter, studying Neil with an amused glint in his eyes. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Good, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Neil replied simply.

Roland laughed softly and straightened up, stepping away to help another customer. “Ask him. Oh and another thing, take care of him, Neil.”

Neil nodded, carrying his drink back to the table where Andrew was waiting. Andrew glanced up as Neil sat down, his gaze sharp as always.

Neil returned to the table, setting his drink down and slipping into his seat across from Andrew. Andrew’s sharp gaze flicked up to him, assessing as always.

Neil leaned forward slightly, his tone casual but with a trace of curiosity. “So,” he began, “Roland mentioned your...hookup.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change, but Neil caught the subtle tensing of his shoulders. He said nothing, waiting for Neil to continue.

Neil raised an eyebrow. “He also asked about your no-touching rules.”

Andrew gave a faint snort, unimpressed. “Of course he did.”

“So what’d you do?” Neil asked, genuinely curious.

Andrew met his gaze, his tone flat but unbothered. “Sometimes I had to tie his hands. He wasn’t good at following directions.”

Neil blinked at that, then a slow smirk spread across his face. “Tying him up, huh?” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “Didn’t know you were into that, Andrew. Would you tie me up if I misbehave?”

Andrew’s glare sharpened immediately, but it lacked real heat. “You’re intolerable.”

Neil grinned, utterly unrepentant. “But you like me.” He puckered his lips exaggeratedly, blowing Andrew a kiss before adding a playful wink.

Andrew’s expression remained deadpan, but the slight downturn of his mouth betrayed his irritation. Without a word, he reached for the shot glass in front of him and knocked it back in one smooth motion. “I hate you.”

Neil chuckled, sipping his own drink as he watched Andrew with open amusement. He leaned back in his chair, his smirk never wavering. “But you’re stuck with me.”

Andrew shook his head, though there was the faintest flicker of something almost like amusement in his eyes. He signaled for another drink, ignoring Neil’s grin

The rest of the night passed without incident. As the bar wound down, Andrew rounded up his brother and cousin while Neil kept an eye on Kevin, who had finally returned to the table, glass in hand. Kevin looked about ready to pass out, mumbling something about exy strategies and drills.

“Let’s go,” Neil said, taking Kevin’s arm to steady him.

Andrew returned with a half-conscious Nicky draped over his shoulder and Aaron trailing behind, barely upright. “The house isn’t far,” Andrew muttered, already heading for the door with his unwieldy cargo.

Neil nodded, guiding Kevin out to the car. The short drive to the cousins’ house was quiet save for Nicky’s drunken giggles and Kevin’s occasional murmurs.

When they arrived, the process of getting everyone inside and to bed began. Andrew practically dumped Nicky onto his bed, ignoring his cousin’s slurred protests about being handled so roughly. Aaron staggered into his room with minimal help, though his muttered curses suggested he wasn’t thrilled about the assistance. Kevin, meanwhile, collapsed onto the couch the moment Neil guided him there, his head lolling back against the cushions.

With everyone settled, Neil made his way back to the living room, scanning the available furniture. It was clear there weren’t enough beds for everyone, so he grabbed a blanket and prepared to settle into the armchair.

“What are you doing?” Andrew’s voice cut through the quiet, making Neil pause mid-step.

Neil glanced over his shoulder. Andrew stood at the threshold of the hallway, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.

“There aren’t enough beds,” Neil replied. “The armchair will do.”

Andrew’s gaze didn’t waver. “We shared a bed in England. This isn’t any different.”

Neil blinked, surprised by the offer. “You’re sure?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have said it. Yes or no?”

A slow smile spread across Neil’s face. “Yes.”

Andrew turned without another word, heading to his room. Neil followed, shutting the door behind them.

The bed wasn’t large, but it was enough. They slid under the covers without a word, the quiet of the room interrupted only by their steady breathing.

“Goodnight,” Neil said softly.

Andrew didn’t reply, but the slight relaxation in his posture said enough.

The next morning, the house was still and quiet, its occupants too hungover to notice much of anything. Neil stretched and glanced at Andrew, who was already awake, scrolling through his phone.

“No one’s going to notice,” Andrew muttered, catching Neil’s eye.

Neil smirked, leaning back against the pillow. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Andrew didn’t respond, but the faintest quirk of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Chapter Text

Monday morning arrived, colder than Neil anticipated, and he dragged himself to Bee’s office with the reluctant determination of someone fulfilling an obligation they couldn’t escape. His stomach churned, not from nerves exactly, but from the uneasy tension of knowing he owed her an apology and wasn’t sure how to give it.

Bee greeted him at the door with her usual calm warmth. “Good morning, Neil. Come in.”

Neil stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender and worn leather wrapping around him like a blanket. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the couch, his hands restless in his lap.

“I should say this first,” Neil began, his voice quiet. “I owe you an apology for last time. I was defensive, and I wasn’t exactly respectful.”

Bee settled into her chair, her expression kind. “Neil, you don’t have to apologize. These sessions aren’t always easy, and it’s normal to feel defensive or uncertain.”

Her easy understanding caught Neil off guard, but he nodded, relief threading through the tension in his shoulders. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Bee smiled softly. “How have you been since we last talked?”

“Fine,” Neil said automatically, then added after a pause, “Busy. It wasn’t too hard getting back into the Foxes’ routine.”

Bee nodded encouragingly. “And how are things with Andrew?”

Neil blinked at the sudden shift, but he didn’t shy away. “Good, more than good actually,” he admitted. “Andrew’s... awesome. He’s solid. He always makes me feel good, even when I don’t realize I need it.”

Bee tilted her head, her smile growing. “That’s wonderful to hear, Neil. It sounds like he means a lot to you.”

“He does,” Neil said, his voice firmer.

But then, like a wave crashing through him, memories stirred, unbidden and sharp. Before he could stop himself, he spoke again.

“I wasn’t sure about being in a relationship again because of Henry.”

Bee’s expression remained patient and open, silently urging him to continue. “And who is he to you? Or who he was?”

“He was my first boyfriend,” Neil said quietly. “I thought he cared about me, but... I guess I was wrong. He broke my heart.”

Neil hesitated, staring at the floor, but the weight of the memory pushed him to continue.

“I was stupid. I thought we were forever, but when I found how he used me, I couldn’t take it. As much as I don’t want to admit it I still think about it a lot.”

The words fell like stones into the quiet room, heavy and unforgiving. Neil couldn’t bring himself to look up, but he could feel Bee’s gaze, steady and unwavering.

“That must have been an incredibly dark time for you,” Bee said, her voice soft but firm, holding none of the pity Neil had feared. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Neil swallowed hard, his throat tight. “It wasn’t just that. It was everything after. My uncle—he was trying to help, I guess—but he hired a bunch of shrinks to ‘fix’ me. None of them listened to what I actually said. They just...” Neil’s hands clenched into fists. “They just slapped labels on me—depressed, anxious, whatever—and handed me prescriptions. It felt like I was just another problem to solve, not a person. It was all about what they could diagnose me with and not how they could help me.”

Bee’s brow furrowed in quiet empathy. “That must have been incredibly isolating. You deserved to be heard, Neil, not dismissed like that.”

Neil nodded, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “That’s why I hate stuff like this. These sessions remind me of all those times I sat in a room like this, pouring my heart out, just to be ignored.”

Bee’s gaze softened even further. “I’m so sorry that was your experience. No one should be made to feel invisible, especially when they’re hurting. But I hope this feels different. I hope you know that I’m here to listen—not to judge, label, or fix you, but to understand and support you.”

Neil hesitated, his chest tight with the weight of her sincerity. He looked up at her then, meeting her gaze. “You are different,” he admitted. “You actually listen. You don’t treat me like a problem to solve. And at first I didn’t know what to think of you but after the last session when you helped me with my guilt I think I can trust you more. That doesn’t mean I will come every week though.”

“Thank you,” Bee said, her voice warm. “That means a lot to me. I want this to be a space where you can just be yourself, no expectations or pressure. You just need to know that you can come whatever you like and feel the need to get something off you chest.”

For a long moment, Neil didn’t say anything. He just nodded, a faint, genuine smile pulling at his lips.

Bee let the moment settle before gently steering the conversation to lighter topics. By the time Neil left her office, he felt... lighter. For the first time in a long time, Neil felt like he had been heard by someone outside his family.

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the Foxes as they gathered for practice. Neil stood near the sidelines, chatting with Dan and Matt while the others warmed up.

“So, Neil,” Matt began casually, though there was a curious edge to his voice, “I couldn’t help but notice something lately.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Matt grinned. “You and Andrew. You’re close. Like... really close. He does everything you ask him to do. If someone tried to ask him about something you did, he’d flat-out say no. How’d you manage that? Are you bribing him or something?”

Neil blinked, caught off guard. “What? No.”

Dan, standing beside Matt, nodded in agreement. “Matt’s got a point, though. Andrew doesn’t do things for people. Hell, if it weren’t for you, he probably wouldn’t even talk to us, let alone hang out. You’ve... changed him.”

Neil looked between the two of them, their faces a mix of curiosity and genuine amazement. He frowned slightly, unsure how to respond. “I didn’t do anything.”

Dan gave him a knowing look. “Come on, Neil. We’re not saying it’s a bad thing. We’re just saying it’s... noticeable.”

Neil glanced away, a little uncomfortable under their scrutiny. “I just ask,” he said simply.

Matt’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned in like Neil had just dropped some forbidden secret. “That’s it? You just ask?”

Neil nodded.

Matt wasn’t convinced. “Is there something you’re not telling us? Like, do you have some kind of... mind control powers or something?”

Neil let out a short laugh and shook his head. “No.”

Dan smirked, crossing her arms. “You’re telling me Andrew Minyard—the Andrew Minyard—listens to you just because you ask him to?”

Neil shrugged, not seeing what the big deal was. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Stop wasting time!” Kevin shouted from across the court, his voice carrying with all the authority of a man convinced of his own importance. “We have a game coming! Move your asses!”

Dan groaned and rubbed her forehead like she was fighting the urge to strangle him. “Of course he had to chime in.”

Matt sighed, his shoulders slumping. “God, does he ever relax?”

Neil, unimpressed, turned to glare at Kevin. “Go fuck yourself!” he shouted, his voice laced with sarcasm as he casually flipped Kevin off.

Kevin froze mid-step, his expression snapping into sharp irritation. “I heard that, Hatford,” he snapped back in French.

Neil smirked. “Good,” he replied, switching to French just to needle him further. “Maybe you’ll finally take the hint.”

Dan raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself, while Matt choked on a laugh. “Oh my god,” Matt muttered, “this is better than TV.”

Kevin stormed toward the court, muttering curses under his breath, and Neil jogged back to the line, unbothered.

As Neil joined the rest of the team, he caught Andrew watching him from the goal. Neil smirked and winked to Andrew before refocusing on practice.

Practice had wrapped up, but Neil lingered on the court longer than usual, pacing near the sidelines as if he couldn’t sit still. The other Foxes were slowly dispersing, laughing and chatting as they left the locker room, but Neil wasn’t in the mood to join them.

For some reason, he couldn’t shake the restless energy buzzing under his skin. Maybe it was the fact that his birthday was coming up. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much—it wasn’t like Stuart or Emma ever made the day unbearable. They’d always tried their best to make it special for him. But deep down, the date still carried a weight he couldn’t explain, a reminder of years he’d rather forget.

Andrew, of course, noticed.

As Neil sat slumped on the bench, fiddling with the tape on his fingers, Andrew stood nearby, leaning against the lockers and watching him in silence. Finally, when everyone else had left, Andrew spoke.

“You’re fidgeting.”

Neil glanced up, his hands pausing for a second before resuming their nervous motions. “I’m fine.”

Andrew didn’t move, his gaze steady. “We don’t lie to each other.”

Neil sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with brushing it off. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve just been... restless. I thought practice would help, but it didn’t. It’s like I can’t sit still. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Andrew didn’t press for more, knowing this was as much of an answer as Neil was going to give. Instead, he studied Neil for a moment, tilting his head slightly as if weighing his options. Then, in his usual blunt tone, Andrew asked, “Do you want to do what I do when I feel like this?”

Neil blinked, thrown off by the unexpected offer. “What do you mean?”

Andrew gave him a pointed look, his dark eyes unwavering.

It took Neil a moment to catch on, but when he did, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sparring?”

Andrew didn’t answer, but the slight raise of his eyebrows said enough.

Neil hesitated. “I don’t think I could actually hurt you.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “Would you spar with Renee?”

Neil considered the question for a moment. Renee was skilled, no doubt about it, but she wasn’t intimidating in the same way Andrew was. And if Andrew trusted her enough to spar with her, that meant it was probably safe.

“Yeah,” Neil said finally. “If she doesn’t mind.”

Andrew nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Renee’s number and held the phone to his ear, waiting.

When she picked up, Andrew got straight to the point. “Are you free?”

There was a brief pause on the line before Renee replied. Whatever she said made Andrew glance at Neil. “Our usual spot,” he confirmed, his tone unreadable.

Renee must have understood the situation immediately because she simply said, “I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

Andrew hung up without further comment and turned to Neil. “Get your things.”

Neil grabbed his bag and followed Andrew out of the locker room. They returned to the dorms to change into more appropriate clothes for sparring, neither of them saying much as they prepared. When they were ready, they made their way to Andrew and Renee’s usual spot—a quiet, out-of-the-way area where they could move freely without prying eyes.

Neil didn’t know what to expect from the session, but as they walked toward the meeting point, a part of him hoped it might be enough to quiet the storm inside him, at least for a little while.

Neil tugged at the hem of his white t-shirt as he followed Andrew through the front door of the abandoned-looking building. On the outside, it seemed like the kind of place that had long been forgotten—graffiti on the walls, cracked windows, and an air of disuse that could easily make someone think twice about going in. But Andrew walked in without hesitation, so Neil followed.

Inside, Neil realized he’d underestimated the place. The inside was sleek, modern, and meticulously maintained. It didn’t take long for Neil to piece together what kind of place this was. The reception area was stark and minimal, with a cash register at the center and a few clipboards on the desk. A series of doors led off to private areas, and the faint hum of noise behind them hinted at activity.

“A fight club?” Neil muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Andrew ignored the question, his attention already locked on Renee, who was standing by the desk with a card in hand. She was dressed in leggings and a cropped top, her hair pulled into a tidy ponytail. She greeted them with her usual calm smile, holding the card out to Andrew.

“Room’s ready,” she said, her voice soft.

Andrew nodded briefly to the man behind the desk, who barely looked up from his tablet. Without another word, he turned on his heel and started walking down a corridor. Renee fell into step beside him, and Neil followed close behind, his curiosity growing with each step.

They stopped in front of one of the many identical doors. Renee slid the card into the lock, and the light above it turned green with a soft beep. She pushed the door open, stepping aside to let Andrew and Neil enter first.

The room was a stark contrast to the building’s exterior. It was clean, neat, and almost minimalist in design. The floors were covered in a soft, padded material—perfect for sparring without the risk of serious injury. The walls were dark wood, adding a touch of warmth to the space. A mini refrigerator and a small couch were tucked into one corner, while a simple coat hanger stood near the door.

Neil glanced around, mildly impressed. “I wasn’t expecting this,” he admitted.

Andrew didn’t bother responding. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch, revealing the tight black tank top he was wearing underneath. His lean muscles flexed slightly as he stretched his arms over his head, clearly unfazed by the room or the situation.

Renee closed the door behind them and leaned casually against the wall. “It’s not much, but it’s functional,” she said, her tone almost apologetic.

“It’s more than functional,” Neil replied, toeing the padded floor experimentally. “I wouldn’t mind practicing here.”

Andrew gave him a look, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “You’re not here to practice.”

Neil raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He set his bag down near the couch and tugged his shirt down again, already starting to feel the anticipation thrumming under his skin. The idea of sparring with Renee—or even just watching her and Andrew in action—was enough to distract him, at least temporarily, from the restlessness that had been gnawing at him all day.

Renee smiled faintly, pushing off the wall and stepping into the center of the room. “Let’s see how this goes,” she said, glancing between Andrew and Neil. “We’ll start slow.”

Andrew cracked his knuckles, his face unreadable. Neil couldn’t help but wonder what he’d just gotten himself into.

Renee tilted her head, her calm smile never wavering. "So, Neil, how do you want to do this?"

Neil blinked, thrown off by the question. "What do you mean?"

Andrew, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, answered for her. "Do you want to fight her blind, or do you want to watch her spar with me first so you have some idea what you’re up against?"

Neil thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "Blind," he decided.

Andrew gave him a pointed look, his tone flat. "Hand to hand or knife fight?"

Neil smirked at the question, the barest hint of cockiness flashing across his face. "I’m good at both," he said, before glancing at Renee. "What do you prefer?"

Renee tilted her head in consideration. "Hand to hand, but if you want to try knives, I can do that too."

"Hand to hand is fine," Neil said with a nod. "What are the rules?"

Renee stepped forward, her demeanor as steady and unshakable as ever. "First to give up loses," she said simply. "You can use any method as long as it doesn’t cause permanent damage. And you can call for a break whenever you need to."

"Got it," Neil replied, his expression serious. He turned to Andrew, who was leaning casually against the wall. "Can we start?"

Andrew shifted his gaze to Renee, who nodded once in agreement. "Yes," Andrew said, stepping aside.

Neil and Renee took their positions, facing each other in the center of the padded floor. Neil immediately started analyzing her stance. Renee’s posture was solid, her feet firmly planted and her fists raised in a loose but ready position. Neil could tell she had power—her punches would be fast and hard—but her style was more street than professional.

Neil, on the other hand, had been trained by professionals. His father had taught him brute efficiency, his mother had refined his form, and Callum had drilled him in technique until he could practically fight in his sleep. He adjusted his stance slightly, preparing himself.

Andrew’s voice broke the silence. "Go."

Renee was the first to move, darting forward with a sharp strike aimed at Neil’s left side. Neil sidestepped, easily dodging the blow. They circled each other, testing boundaries. Renee made a few more attempts, each one narrowly missing as Neil continued to read her movements.

The rhythm continued like this for a while—Renee attacking, Neil dodging and analyzing. He could see that she was starting to tire, her movements slowing slightly, but just as he started to press his advantage, she switched tactics.

Renee lunged low, trying to sweep his feet out from under him. Neil had to admit, she was fast, but he was faster. He leapt back, narrowly avoiding the move, and decided it was time to go on the offensive.

He feinted left, then aimed a kick at her torso. Renee caught his foot with both hands, but Neil twisted his body midair and used his other foot to land a solid kick to her shoulder. She stumbled back, her balance momentarily thrown off.

Neil saw an opening and moved in, his reflexes sharp and calculated. Just as he went to pin her, Renee dodged and slipped behind him, trying to grab him in a hold. Neil spun quickly, countering her move and managing to pin her to the floor instead.

His weight pressed down on her, his arm locking her securely in place. "Do you give up?" Neil asked, his voice steady.

Renee smiled up at him, calm as ever. "Not yet," she said, breaking free with surprising force.

Pushing to her feet, she brushed herself off and said with a hint of amusement, "You're holding back."

Neil hummed in agreement, his lips quirking in a faint smile. "I’m just warming up."

The sparring continued for another thirty minutes or so, their movements a blur of calculated strikes and dodges. Neil could see that Renee was good, but his training and stamina gave him the edge. Eventually, after a particularly grueling sequence, Renee tapped out, signaling her surrender.

Neil stepped back, offering her a hand to help her up. Renee took it with a gracious smile, though she was clearly winded. "You're impressive," she admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"You too," Neil said honestly. He wasn’t tired, but the restless energy that had been gnawing at him earlier was finally gone. He felt lighter, calmer.

Renee grabbed a water bottle from the mini refrigerator and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. She glanced at Andrew, who had been watching the entire time with an unreadable expression. "I need a break before sparring with you," she said lightly.

Andrew nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to Neil. "Good," he said simply.

Neil smirked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "This wasn’t a bad idea," he admitted, glancing at Andrew.

Andrew didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of satisfaction crossed his face before he turned his attention back to Renee.

Later that night, Neil, Renee, and Andrew walked back into the dorms. Andrew and Renee bore the marks of their sparring—Andrew’s knuckles were slightly bruised, and Renee had a visible bruise blooming on her cheek. Neil, however, looked untouched, save for the faint bruise on his right arm.

The dorm was alive with the sound of chatter and the muffled soundtrack of a movie. Most of the Foxes were sprawled across the common room couches, snacks and drinks scattered over the table. Kevin and Aaron were missing, as usual. Neil assumed Aaron was with Katelyn and Kevin was likely glued to some Exy match, as predictable as ever.

Neil couldn’t help but reflect on Andrew and Aaron’s improving relationship. After a handful of sessions with Bee, Andrew had decided to respect Aaron’s boundaries more. In turn, Aaron had started to recognize just how much Andrew had sacrificed for him over the years. They weren’t suddenly best friends, but they were making progress, and Andrew even acknowledged Katelyn now—enough to exchange polite greetings whenever they saw each other. It was a slow process, but it was a good one, and Neil couldn’t help but feel happy for them.

Andrew, as usual, gave the group a passing glance and headed straight for the kitchen without a word, but Renee lingered with Neil.

Dan was the first to notice them. She paused the movie and stood up, eyes zeroing in on Renee’s cheek. "What the hell happened to you?" she asked, concerned.

Seth, slouched on the couch, snorted. "What does it look like? They went sparring."

Renee offered a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, just a little sparring."

Matt turned to Neil, looking both surprised and impressed. "Wait, you went with them?"

Neil nodded nonchalantly.

Seth leaned forward, a smirk forming. "So, Renee, did you kick Andrew’s ass, or what?"

Matt shot him a warning look. "Seth, come on—"

Seth waved him off. "Relax, it’s a joke."

Renee chuckled softly. "I managed to beat Andrew once or twice, but he got his hits in too."

Allison raised an eyebrow and pointed to Renee’s cheek. "Did Andrew give you that?"

Renee shook her head, smiling a little more. "No, actually, that was Neil."

The room went silent for a moment as everyone turned to look at Neil. Matt, his eyes wide, finally broke the silence. "Wait—you sparred with Renee? Seriously?"

Neil shrugged. "I needed a good opponent."

Allison smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Why not Andrew, then?"

Neil glanced toward the kitchen where Andrew was pouring a glass of water and his gazed soften "I couldn’t possibly fight him."

Allison’s smirk widened as if she knew something the others didn’t. Before she could say anything, Seth chimed in. "So, Renee, did you beat his ass too?"

Renee shook her head. "I couldn’t."

Everyone turned to stare at Neil again, this time with shock etched across their faces.

Dan crossed her arms and tilted her head at Neil. "Okay, spill. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Neil hesitated for half a second before answering with a carefully crafted half-truth. "My uncle didn’t want me to be defenseless. He hired someone to teach me how to fight."

It was simple and believable enough that no one questioned it. Dan nodded as if that made perfect sense.

Seth groaned, sinking back into the couch. "Great, now you’re good at everything. It’s like you’re trying to make the rest of us look bad."

Neil gave him a faint smirk but said nothing.

Matt still looked impressed. "Man, remind me never to piss you off."

"Or Renee," Allison quipped, pointing at her friend’s cheek.

Renee laughed lightly, brushing it off, and the group eventually returned to their movie, though Neil couldn’t help noticing Allison sneaking curious glances at him from time to time.

Neil went back to his dorm, feeling the exhaustion settle into his bones. He peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pound against his back, washing away the tension from the fight and the weight of his thoughts. But even as the heat loosened his muscles, the restless energy still clung to him. Something felt off—like a shadow lingering at the edge of his vision, just out of reach.

After drying off, he grabbed the first hoodie within reach, tugging it over his head. It wasn’t until he caught sight of himself in the mirror that he realized it wasn’t his. The sleeves were looser, the hem falling lower on his frame. He frowned slightly before recognizing the familiar fabric. Andrew’s.

Neil hesitated for a second, then pulled the hood up over his damp hair. He didn’t take it off.

He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind drifting ways. He had a nagging feeling, like something terrible was on the horizon. It wasn’t paranoia; it was instinct.

His phone buzzed.

He turned his head and grabbed it from the nightstand. A single message from Andrew.

My dorm.

Two words. No explanation. No questions. But Neil didn’t need any.

A small, amused smile tugged at his lips as he got up and made his way to Andrew’s room.

When he arrived, the door was unlocked. He stepped inside, surprised to find the room empty except for Andrew, who was half-laying on his bed, back pressed against the headboard, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just summoned Neil over without context.

Neil hovered near the bed, waiting. Andrew glanced up, his sharp gaze meeting Neil’s for a brief second before he gave the smallest nod. That was all the permission Neil needed.

He climbed onto the bed, settling on his stomach, one leg casually draped over Andrew’s as he rested his head on Andrew’s lap. There was a moment of silence as Neil looked up at him, the dim light softening Andrew’s sharp features.

“Can I touch your waist?” Neil asked quietly, his voice almost hesitant.

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Neil wrapped his arms around Andrew’s waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t grip—just held.

Andrew said nothing, still scrolling through his phone, but he didn’t move Neil away. He didn’t complain.

Neil closed his eyes, basking in Andrew’s warmth, in the quiet hum of the room, in the way Andrew let him exist there, close and comfortable.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Neil tilted his head up, watching Andrew with quiet curiosity. His gaze drifted to the phone in Andrew’s hand, still glowing faintly in the dim light. Without hesitation, Neil reached up, plucked it from Andrew’s grasp, and placed it on the nightstand.

Andrew blinked at him, unimpressed. His expression didn’t shift, but the weight of his stare was enough to convey his thoughts: Really?

Neil only grinned, cheeky and unbothered.

Andrew sighed and, in retaliation, poked Neil’s forehead with two fingers—not hard, but firm enough to make a point. Neil furrowed his brows, a little confused by the action.

“What was that for?” he asked, blinking up at Andrew.

Andrew ignored the question. Instead, he finally spoke. “Why did you take my phone?”

Neil propped himself up slightly, resting his chin against Andrew’s thigh. His grin didn’t fade. “I wanted some attention.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, his fingers idly drumming against his leg. “And now that you have it?”

Neil’s smirk deepened. Slowly, he pushed himself up so that his face was just inches from Andrew’s as he sat in his lap. The space between them was barely there, his breath ghosting against Andrew’s skin. His voice dropped, teasing yet laced with something more.

“Yes or no?”

Andrew didn’t look away, didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Neil closed the distance, pressing his lips against Andrew’s in a deep, unhurried kiss. Andrew’s hands found his hips, his fingers warm even through the fabric of Neil’s hoodie. The kiss was slow but certain—no hesitation, no doubt, just the quiet understanding between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Neil stayed where he was, straddling Andrew’s lap, his arms now stayed loosely on his shoulders. He looked down at Andrew, pleased and content.

Andrew, however, was staring at him with narrowed eyes, his gaze flicking over Neil’s frame.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Andrew started, his voice steady, “I still have to ask—when did you manage to steal my hoodie?”

Neil blinked, schooling his expression into something innocent. “How do you know it’s yours, though?”

Andrew gave him an unimpressed look. “I think I can recognize my own clothes, but sure—go ahead and prove me wrong.”

Neil laughed, a quiet, breathy sound. “Fine, fine. It’s yours.”

Andrew exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t tell me something I already knew.”

Neil only smiled, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against Andrew’s.

And for a while, they just stayed like that—silent, comfortable, and close.

Neil broke the comfortable silence first. “Thank you for today,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sure. “I really needed a release.”

Andrew hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers absentmindedly trailing over Neil’s back.

Neil shifted closer, adjusting his position until he was practically draped over Andrew like a koala. He rested his chin on Andrew’s shoulder, his arms tightening around his neck. Andrew didn’t push him away; instead, his hand continued its slow, steady strokes along Neil’s spine.

After a moment, Neil raised his head, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Why did you start playing Exy?” he asked. “You don’t like the sport much, but you still play it. Why?”

Andrew’s fingers paused briefly before he answered. “It was a bigger cage than the alternative.”

Neil understood immediately. Juvie.

Andrew must have learned Exy while he was locked up. It made sense. From what Neil knew, Officer Higgins had likely been the reason Andrew ended up in one of the better juvenile facilities in California—one that focused on rehabilitation through discipline and empowerment. Those kinds of places often incorporated team sports into their programs.

Neil recalled reading about the half-court Exy setup they had at such facilities. The best-behaved players were even allowed to compete against local teams at the community center. A bigger cage than a cell, Neil thought.

Still, there had to be more to it. Andrew wouldn’t have chosen Exy over other sports without a reason. It was aggressive, yes, but as a goalkeeper, Andrew rarely had the chance to indulge in raw violence. Neil voiced this thought aloud.

Andrew only shrugged faintly.

“The warden assigned it to me,” he said. “I couldn’t play otherwise.”

“They thought you’d hurt someone if you were loose on the court?” Neil asked.

Andrew didn’t answer, but his silence was enough of a confirmation.

Neil tried to imagine him playing a different position but couldn’t see it. “I think it’s better this way,” he mused. “With you as the last line of defense. You let us run ourselves into the ground and clean up behind us. You play the game like you play life. That’s why you’re so good at it.”

Andrew held his gaze, unreadable as always.

After a beat, Neil spoke again. “I wasn’t always a striker.”

That got Andrew’s attention.

“I was a backliner in little leagues,” Neil admitted. “When I started at a real school for the first time, I was surprised to find out they had an Exy team. It’s not exactly a big sport in England.” He smiled slightly, lost in the memory. “I really wanted to play again, and after my uncle gave me the green light, I signed up. But there was no space on the defense line, and because I ‘didn’t’ have any experience—” Neil made air quotes with his fingers “—the coach told me I could either play offense or not play at all.”

Andrew listened without interrupting.

“I was desperate to play, so I agreed,” Neil continued. “I stayed at that school for about seven months… then decided homeschool was better after one accident.”

Andrew tilted his head slightly. “What accident?”

Neil hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some guy tried to hit on me,” he admitted. “I told him I wasn’t interested since I had a boyfriend. At the time, I had just met my ex, and we were kind of figuring things out.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at ex, but didn’t comment.

Neil exhaled. “The guy didn’t take it well. Started calling me slurs. I didn’t really care, but then he said something about Henry, and I lost it.” His voice darkened slightly. “I beat him up pretty bad. Broke his nose. A rib, too, apparently.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was something in his eyes—something like approval.

Neil blinked. “Why do you look impressed?”

Andrew just shrugged. “No reason.”

Neil huffed a quiet laugh. “Stuart wasn’t happy about it, but I wasn’t in too much trouble.”

Andrew hummed again, his fingers resuming their slow movements against Neil’s back.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence felt easy, unforced.

Then, without thinking too much about it, Neil murmured, “I think I would’ve liked playing backliner for real.”

Andrew considered him for a long moment before responding. “You play offense like a defender,” he finally said. “It suits you.”

Neil let his eyes slip shut, a small, content smile pulling at his lips.

Neil was about to get up when the door opened. Kevin walked in, his usual tense posture barely easing even in the comfort of the dorm. He froze when he saw them—Neil still comfortably perched on Andrew’s lap, Andrew looking wholly unbothered.

Kevin’s eyes narrowed in confusion before he asked, “What are you doing here? And when did this happened?”

Neil stretched slightly before answering, “Just hanging out with Andrew.”

Kevin’s gaze flickered between them, his sharp mind piecing things together. His expression shifted, something clicking behind his eyes.

“Whatever this is,” Kevin said, his voice carrying that familiar exasperation, “it better not distract you from the game.”

Neil rolled his eyes, used to Kevin’s singular obsession with Exy. “It won’t.”

Kevin didn’t push further. Instead, with a huff, he muttered something under his breath and made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Neil exhaled through his nose, amused. “He’s so dramatic.”

Andrew hummed noncommittally, fingers still idly tracing along Neil’s spine. “You’re one to talk.”

Neil only grinned.

Chapter Text

The next day during lunch, Neil sat at the Foxes' table, absently picking at his food while his mind worked through an idea. The way Aaron reacted to him taking Andrew to England without warning—it didn't sit right with him. Sure, the twins argued about it, but that was nothing new. What bothered Neil was the underlying tension, something unspoken that even their usual bickering couldn't mask.

The other Foxes had been surprised, sure, but none of them were against it. Aaron, though? His reaction had been different. It wasn’t just about the trip—it was something deeper. Neil had seen the way Aaron had congratulated them when he and Andrew told him and Katelyn about their relationship during the camping trip. He had meant it. But there was still something off—something unresolved between the twins.

Andrew and Aaron were better than before, but something was still lacking, some invisible wall they refused to acknowledge. And if Neil had learned anything about the Minyard twins, it was that neither of them was going to address it unless someone forced them to.

That’s where his idea came in.

They needed to talk. All four of them—Andrew, Aaron, Katelyn, and himself. And not just talk, but actually work through whatever the hell was standing between the twins.

Which meant more therapy.

Which meant Bee.

Neil pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. Step one: Call Bee and see if she thought this was a good idea. Step two: Convince Andrew. Step three: Convince Aaron and Katelyn.

Yeah. Easier said than done.

Neil took a steady breath as he pressed the call button. Therapy wasn’t something he usually volunteered for, but Bee was different. She wasn’t like the other therapists he had been forced to see over the years. She actually listened—didn’t try to fix him or push him into saying things he wasn’t ready to. The fact that Andrew trusted her enough to talk to her was what really sealed the deal for Neil.

Bee picked up after two rings.

“Neil,” she greeted warmly. “This is a surprise. What’s on your mind?”

Neil wasted no time getting to the point. “I think Aaron and Andrew need a session together along with Katelyn and I. There’s… something off between them, and they’re not going to work through it on their own. I want to fix it.”

Bee hummed thoughtfully on the other end. “That’s very insightful of you, Neil. You’re right—there’s still a lot between them they haven’t fully addressed. If they’re willing to come in, I’d be happy to have you all for a session. I’m free tomorrow at four. Does that work for you?”

Neil already knew the twins and Katelyn had all their classes in the morning on Wednesdays, so this was perfect. “Yeah, that works.”

“Good. I assume you’ll be the one convincing them?”

Neil sighed. “Yeah. That’s the next step.”

Bee chuckled knowingly. “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Neil wasn’t so sure about that, but he thanked her anyway before hanging up. One step down. Now onto the hardest part—convincing Andrew.

After classes, Neil headed straight to practice, trying to push aside the weight of the conversation he had to have with Andrew later. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

Neil threw himself into practice, focusing on drills, footwork, and perfecting his shots. Kevin was, as usual, relentless, barking corrections at him and the rest of the team. The intensity of the session helped keep his mind occupied, but the promise he made to himself lingered in the back of his head.

As practice wrapped up and the team started heading toward the locker room, Neil caught a glimpse of Andrew leaning against the goalpost, idly spinning his racquet in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Neil steeled himself. He promised himself he’d talk to Andrew after practice, and he wasn’t about to back down now, but first he needed a shower.

Neil ran the towel through his damp hair one last time before tossing it carelessly into his locker. The locker room was mostly silent now, the distant hum of the ventilation system the only background noise. He had taken his time in the shower, knowing the rest of the team would be long gone by the time he was done.

Well, almost everyone.

Andrew was still there.

Neil wasn’t surprised. He could feel Andrew’s gaze on him, steady and unwavering as he moved. He didn’t need to look to know exactly where Andrew’s eyes were focused. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he grabbed his clothes and started getting dressed.

He pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a loose hoodie, the fabric slightly oversized on him. Probably one of Andrew’s, Neil realized, though he didn’t bother pointing it out. Once dressed, he shut his locker with a soft clang and finally turned to face Andrew.

Andrew was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, watching him with that unreadable expression.

Neil took a breath. This conversation wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to happen.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Neil said, his voice even.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Then talk.”

Neil held his ground. “I want you, me, Aaron, and Katelyn to have a session with Bee.”

There was a flicker of something in Andrew’s eyes—resistance, irritation, maybe both—but his expression remained carefully blank. Neil knew that look. Andrew wasn’t outright rejecting the idea, but he wasn’t agreeing either.

“I already talked to Bee,” Neil continued. “She has an opening tomorrow at four.”

Andrew’s posture didn’t change, but Neil could see the way his jaw tensed slightly.

“And?” Andrew said.

“And I think you should go,” Neil replied. “Aaron too.”

Andrew let out a short breath, tilting his head slightly. “You think,” he repeated.

Neil held his gaze. “Yeah.”

There was silence between them, thick with unspoken words. Neil wasn’t going to push—not yet. He had learned by now that Andrew needed time to process things in his own way.

After a moment, Andrew clicked his tongue and pushed off the lockers. “Whatever.”

Neil didn’t fight the small smile forming on his lips. In Andrew language, that was as close to a yes as he was going to get.

After they arrived at the dorms, Neil wasted no time. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Katelyn’s name.

Andrew had already disappeared into his own room, likely uninterested in listening to whatever scheme Neil was planning. That was fine. Neil could handle this part himself.

He pressed call and brought the phone to his ear, leaning against the back of the couch as it rang. It didn’t take long for Katelyn to pick up.

"Hey, Neil."

“Hey,” Neil greeted, glancing toward Andrew’s closed door before getting straight to the point. “I need your help with something.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cautious, “What kind of something?”

Neil sighed, already anticipating her hesitation. “I talked to Bee today. She has an open session tomorrow at four. I want you, Aaron, Andrew, and me to go.”

Silence.

Neil gave her a few seconds, letting her process the request before he continued. “Aaron and Andrew are in a better place now, but something’s still… off. I don’t think either of them is going to bring it up on their own, so we have to.”

Katelyn exhaled, clearly thinking it over.

“I don’t know if Aaron will agree to this,” she admitted. “You know how he is.”

“I do,” Neil said. “That’s why I need you to convince him.”

Another pause. Then, a resigned sigh. "Neil..."

“I know it’s a lot,” he said, pushing forward. “But you want them to fix this too, don’t you?”

“…Of course I do.”

“Then help me.”

Katelyn groaned softly, but Neil could tell she was already giving in. She wouldn’t say no to this—not when she knew how important it was.

“Fine,” she relented. “But I swear, if Aaron loses his shit over this, I’m blaming you.”

Neil smirked. “That’s fair.”

“Tomorrow at four?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Katelyn said. “I’ll do what I can.”

Neil could hear the determination in her voice now, and he knew she was on board.

“Thanks, Kate.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me,” she teased before hanging up.

Neil lowered his phone with a satisfied exhale. If anyone could convince Aaron to do  something it was Katelyn.

That evening, Neil found himself in the lounge with the rest of the Foxes, settling in for their usual movie night. It had become a tradition of sorts, one that no one openly admitted to enjoying but never skipped.

The team had grown closer than ever in the past few months, and Neil had played a part in that. He hadn’t set out to fix them—not really—but somehow, by forcing them to see each other’s struggles, he’d helped them understand one another. They were all messed up in their own ways, carrying pasts that still bled into their present. But instead of letting it break them, they’d learned to lean on each other.

And that was why they had a bond like no other.

The living room was packed, with Matt, Dan, Aaron, and Renee sprawled across the couch, Allison sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back against Matt’s legs. Seth had claimed the other armchair, while Nicky had taken the space near Allison, dramatically complaining about how they should be watching something more exciting. Kevin had sat next to Nicky muttering how the seat arrangement wasn’t fair but no one paid him any mind.

Neil was sinking into the armchair he and Andrew had silently claimed as theirs. It was just big enough for two if you didn’t mind being close. Neil didn’t mind.

A thick blanket was draped over both of them, and as the movie played, Neil could feel Andrew’s occasional glances. He knew that look well by now—silent, unreadable to most, but Neil had learned to decipher it.

Yes or No?

Neil met Andrew’s gaze, giving him the smallest nod.

That was all it took.

Andrew shifted slightly, lifting an arm and draping it over Neil’s shoulders. His grip was loose, casual, like it was nothing at all. But Neil knew better.

He leaned in, snuggling into Andrew’s warmth, and let himself relax.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word.

The next day, at exactly 15:20, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, and Katelyn headed toward Bee’s office.

Andrew, in what could only be considered an act of kindness by his standards, had agreed to drive them there. Neil suspected it had less to do with actual generosity and more to do with his unwillingness to let anyone else be in control of the situation. Either way, Neil wasn’t about to complain.

They piled into Andrew’s car, with Neil in the passenger seat and Aaron and Katelyn in the back. As soon as Andrew started driving, the car settled into a heavy silence.

Neil glanced at Andrew out of the corner of his eye. He looked as calm as ever, one hand on the wheel, his gaze steady on the road. But Neil had spent enough time with him to pick up on the small things—the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tapped against the wheel every few minutes, and most telling of all, the way his other hand casually came to rest on Neil’s thigh.

It was a habit of Andrew’s, one that had started subtly but had become more frequent lately. Whenever he was driving, his free hand would settle on Neil’s leg like a grounding point, as if the pressure of his touch kept him steady.

The first few times it had happened, Neil had barely reacted, too focused on the feeling of Andrew’s hand against him to do much of anything. Now, though, he’d started to expect it. And still, every single time, it sent warmth rushing through him, his skin prickling in awareness.

Neil kept his expression neutral, but he felt his face heat up anyway. He doubted Andrew even realized the effect it had on him.

In the backseat, Aaron and Katelyn remained quiet. Neil had no idea if Aaron was nervous, annoyed, or just indifferent about this session, but Kate had managed to convince him, which was all that mattered.

Neil let the silence settle around them, unbothered. There would be plenty of talking once they got to Bee’s office. For now, he was content to sit still, Andrew’s hand warm against his thigh, and wait for whatever came next.

They arrived at Bee’s office with time to spare. The parking lot was quiet, the winter air crisp around them as they stepped out of the car.

Neil immediately reached for his pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and placing it between his lips. He wasn’t nervous about the session itself—he’d been through worse conversations—but he knew this meeting could get complicated fast. He flicked his lighter, the small flame catching in the breeze before he inhaled deeply.

Katelyn joined him outside while Aaron lingered near the car, arms crossed. Neil figured he needed a moment to himself. That was fine—he had Kate to keep him company.

“So,” she said, watching as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Neil arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you asking me because you don’t think it is?”

Kate sighed, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “No. I think it’s necessary. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”

“Nothing worth doing ever is,” Neil said simply, taking another drag.

Kate huffed out a quiet laugh. “You sound like a motivational poster.”

Before Neil could respond, the sound of a lighter clicking caught his attention. Andrew had joined them, standing just off to the side, a cigarette between his fingers. His expression was unreadable as always, but he didn’t look annoyed, which meant he and Aaron hadn’t argued—at least not in the car. That was a small victory in itself.

Neil watched as Andrew inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering between him and Katelyn as he listened to their conversation. He hadn’t contributed yet, but the fact that he was standing there at all was enough.

Kate nudged Neil slightly. “You should probably finish that so you don’t smell like cigarettes when we went inside. Bee won’t like it.”

Neil smirked. “She’s used to it by now.”

Andrew exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it disappear into the cold air. “That doesn’t mean she likes it.”

Neil just grinned, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. They stood there in comfortable silence, the weight of the upcoming session looming over them but not quite pressing down just yet.

Bee greeted them with a warm but knowing smile and hot chocolate as they entered her office. She gestured for them to take their seats, her gaze flicking over each of them in quiet assessment.

Neil and Andrew settled on one couch, their usual positions instinctive—Neil sat relaxed but alert, one foot resting over his knee, while Andrew slouched back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Across from them, Aaron and Katelyn took the other couch. Aaron looked tense, his arms resting stiffly on his knees, while Kate sat close beside him, her presence grounding him.

Bee settled into her chair and glanced between them. “Alright,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Neil told me a little about why he thought this session was necessary. But I want to hear from all of you—why do you think you’re here?”

A long silence stretched between them. Andrew was staring at the floor, Aaron was looking anywhere but at his brother, and Neil waited, giving them space to speak first.

Kate was the first to answer. “Because you two refuse to talk about things unless you’re forced to.” She glanced at Aaron, squeezing his hand. “And because I think this could actually help.”

Bee nodded, her expression understanding. “That’s a good start. Aaron, what do you think?”

Aaron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice tight. “I guess because… things are better between us, but it still feels like something’s missing. Like we’re just pretending it’s fine instead of actually fixing anything.”

Bee hummed thoughtfully before shifting her attention to Andrew. “Andrew?”

Andrew blinked slowly, finally raising his gaze to meet hers. “I’m here because Neil won’t shut up about it,” he said, flat and even.

Neil rolled his eyes. “And because you agreed.”

Andrew didn’t respond to that, but he also didn’t deny it.

Bee turned to Neil next. “And you?”

Neil shrugged. “Because I know they want things to be better, even if they won’t admit it out loud.” His gaze flickered to Aaron before landing back on Bee. “And because I’m tired of watching them act like strangers when they’re supposed to be brothers.”

Bee let a beat of silence pass before nodding. “Alright,” she said, voice steady. “Let’s talk about that.”

No one spoke at first. Neil was used to these silences by now, but Aaron, surprisingly, was the one who broke it.

"I don’t even know why I’m here," Aaron muttered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "This wasn’t my idea." He shot a look at Katelyn, who gave him a small, reassuring nudge.

Neil, unfazed, leaned back against the couch and crossed his arms. "You’re here because you obviously have a problem with me and Andrew, and I’m tired of pretending you don’t."

Aaron scoffed. "I don’t have a problem with you and Andrew."

Neil tilted his head. "Then what is it?"

Aaron exhaled through his nose, like he was debating whether or not to say it. Then, after a pause, he looked at Andrew. "I guess I just don’t understand how Neil—someone who’s only known you for, what, a few months?—gets to know more about you than I do. I’m your brother and yet it feels like I’m still a stranger to you."

Andrew, expression unreadable, simply stared at him.

Bee nodded encouragingly. "That’s a valid feeling, Aaron. Can you explain more?"

Aaron looked frustrated, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "It’s like… I see you opening to him in ways you never did with me. You let him in. You trust him. And yeah, I know you and I have our own history, but it’s like—why couldn’t you ever trust me like that? Why did Neil get to have that when I never did?"

Neil stayed quiet, watching Andrew carefully. He wasn’t sure how Andrew would react to being called out like this.

Andrew finally spoke, his voice low and even. "Because you didn’t want to know."

Aaron blinked, caught off guard. "That’s not true."

Andrew just looked at him. "It is."

Aaron clenched his jaw. "I wanted to know you. I wanted to be there for you, but you never let me. And then Neil comes along, and suddenly he gets all your trust? How is that fair?"

Andrew’s fingers tapped once against his knee before going still. His voice was quiet but firm when he replied. "You wanted a brother, not a mess. I gave you what you wanted."

Aaron’s face twisted in frustration. "That’s not fair, Andrew. I wanted you. Not some perfect version of you, just you. But you never gave me a chance."

Bee stepped in gently. "Andrew, can you tell us why you feel Aaron didn’t want to know?"

Andrew’s gaze flickered to Bee for only a second before settling back on Aaron. "You were happy pretending things weren’t as bad as they were. You never asked questions you didn’t want the answers to. You were okay with what I gave you."

Aaron swallowed hard. "Maybe because I thought that’s all you wanted to give me."

Neil, watching the back-and-forth, finally spoke. "I think the difference is that Aaron didn’t push, didn’t show real interest" he said, glancing between them. "I got in Andrew’s way. I asked him too many questions. He had to deal with me, even when he didn’t want to. Aaron, you pushed him about the wrong things. You showed interest in things that were including you and not Andrew alone. And maybe Andrew thought that meant you didn’t want to know."

Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it, his frustration shifting into something more conflicted.

Andrew was unreadable, but his voice was quiet when he said, "You never pushed. Neil did."

Aaron exhaled sharply. "I shouldn’t have to push my own brother to trust me."

Andrew didn’t reply right away. His fingers curled against his thigh, but his expression didn’t waver. After a long moment, he looked at Bee. "What do you want me to say?"

Bee’s voice was calm. "I’m not looking for a perfect answer, Andrew. I just want to know how you feel about this. Do you regret not letting Aaron in sooner?"

Andrew hesitated, then, for the first time, gave a quiet, uncertain, "I don’t know."

The words were small, but they felt big in the space between them.

Aaron let out a slow breath and sat back, rubbing a hand down his face. "I just… I don’t want to keep feeling like a stranger to you."

Andrew met his gaze, and something in his posture shifted, just slightly. "You’re not."

Aaron looked at him for a long moment before nodding once. It wasn’t a solution, but maybe it was a start.

Bee allowed the moment to settle before speaking again. "It sounds like there’s a lot to work through here. But the important thing is that you’re both still here, trying. That’s a good start."

By the time their session ended at five, the air between them felt lighter. The four of them stood up, stretching slightly as the weight of the conversation settled. Bee walked them to the door with her usual warm but professional smile.

"I'm glad you all came today," she said. "These things take time, but the important part is that you're all willing to work on it."

Aaron nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah… thanks, Bee."

Neil caught the way Andrew gave a slight nod in acknowledgment before turning towards the door. That was as much of a thank you as Bee was ever going to get from him, but she didn’t seem to mind.

They stepped outside, the cool afternoon air hitting them as they walked towards the car. Neil kept an eye on the twins, half-expecting Aaron to retreat into silence again, but to his surprise, Aaron nudged Andrew’s arm lightly.

"Next time, maybe let me know when you’re dealing with shit instead of hiding away with your boyfriend." Aaron said, his tone dry but lacking the bite it usually had.

Andrew didn’t even glance at him as he replied, "If you stop being bitchy about everything then I will see what I can do."

Aaron snorted. "Deal."

Katelyn shot Neil a small smile, her eyes shining with relief at the noticeable shift between the brothers. Neil had to admit, it was nice to see Aaron and Andrew actually talking instead of exchanging cold remarks or avoiding each other entirely.

Andrew, as always, was the first to reach the car. He slid into the driver’s seat without a word, but as Neil climbed into the passenger seat, he felt Andrew’s hand settle on his thigh.

Neil covered Andrew’s hand with his own for a brief second, giving it a small squeeze before letting go.

As Katelyn and Aaron got in the backseat, the silence that had existed on the way there was noticeably absent. Instead of the tense quiet, Aaron actually spoke up.

"So, are we getting food, or are you gonna drive us straight home like a dick?"

Andrew sighed. "Figure it out."

Aaron rolled his eyes but didn’t look annoyed like he normally would. "I’ll take that as a no."

Neil smirked, turning to Andrew. "You could be nice for once and stop somewhere."

Andrew just stared at him for a moment before starting the car. "No."

Despite the answer, Aaron and Katelyn exchanged amused looks. The atmosphere had shifted, and while things weren’t fixed, they were better. And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Classes on January 12th morning were an absolute waste of time. Neil sat through them, but he might as well have been absent for all the good they did him. His professors droned on, their voices blending into the background like static. Words on the whiteboard blurred and shifted in his mind, morphing into passing plays and game strategies. He didn’t even pretend to take notes—he’d just borrow someone else’s later.

Not that it mattered. The only thing that did was their one-twenty flight out of Upstate Regional.

The first game of championships was scheduled for seven-thirty that night, and Wymack was adamant about getting them to Austin early. "Winter weather is a bitch," he'd said. Neil had found it amusing at the time.

The rain came down in sheets, sharp and frigid enough to feel like ice against his skin. The wind turned it sideways, making it impossible to avoid getting soaked. Neil pulled his hood up and broke into a jog toward Fox Tower, but it did little to help. By the time he reached the building, his sneakers were soaked through, his hoodie clung to his skin, and his fingers felt stiff from the cold.

Inside, the carpeted hallways were already a mess of wet footprints. Neil added to them as he trudged toward his room, his mind still focused on the flight ahead. Would they be delayed? The ninety-minute layover in Atlanta gave them some wiggle room, but it wasn’t much. If they missed their first game over something as stupid as the weather, Neil would never forgive himself. Maybe Andrew was right to call him an Exy junkie.

With a quiet sigh, Neil shut his door behind him and stripped off his damp clothes. He took a hot shower, letting the heat seep into his skin, but even after changing into dry clothes, he couldn’t shake the lingering chill. He climbed under his blankets, phone in hand, and answered a few unread messages from his friends back in England since he promised them to keep more contact and the Foxes’ group chat.

When he was finally caught up, boredom set in.

Neil stared at his screen for a moment before opening his messages with Andrew. He  knew Andrew was done with his classes so he send him a text message:

Neil: Bored.

He didn’t expect an immediate response, but after a few seconds, three dots appeared on the screen.

Andrew: And?

Neil smirked to himself.

Neil: Entertain me.

A full minute passed before Andrew replied.

Andrew: I have other things to do.

Neil huffed a quiet laugh. Predictable.

Neil: But don’t you want to do something about it?

Andrew: Are you dying?

Neil: No.

Andrew: Then no.

Neil rolled onto his side, fingers tapping absently against his phone. He could picture Andrew’s flat stare, the unimpressed arch of his brow.

Neil: It’s cold.

This time, the response was instant.

Andrew: So?

Neil smirked and typed—

Neil: Come warm me up?

As soon as he sent it, his stomach twisted. Would that be too much? Did he just cross a line? He knew Andrew hated when people pushed at his boundaries, but Neil had always been different. Even so, there was a moment of hesitation—of fear—that maybe, just maybe, he’d said the wrong thing.

Andrew didn’t respond for nearly two minutes. Neil waited, heart pounding harder than it should have. Then, finally, a new message popped up.

Andrew: My dorm. Now.

Neil exhaled a quiet breath, a small, relieved smile curling his lips. He threw off his blankets, grabbed a hoodie, and headed out.

Neil knocked once before pushing open the door to Andrew’s dorm. The room was dimly lit, quiet except for the low hum of the heater. As expected, it was empty aside from Andrew—Aaron and Nicky still had classes, and Kevin was probably giving Wymack a headache over game strategies.

Andrew was stretched out on his bed, one leg bent at the knee, the other hanging lazily off the edge. His phone rested in his hand, thumb scrolling idly, but his eyes flicked up the second Neil stepped inside. He didn’t say anything, just held Neil’s gaze, sharp and assessing.

Neil hesitated, shutting the door behind him. He wasn't nervous, not really, but the lingering doubt from earlier clawed at the edges of his mind. Maybe the flirty texts had been too much. Maybe he'd pushed too far—

Andrew’s fingers curled around the hem of Neil’s hoodie, tugging lightly. The touch was casual, but the message was clear.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Andrew asked, voice low, steady.

Neil huffed a quiet laugh and stepped forward, climbing onto the bed. He settled beside Andrew, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Andrew let go of his hoodie, only to slide his hand up Neil’s thigh, fingers resting just a little too high to be innocent. Neil's breath hitched before he could stop it.

Andrew’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened just enough to make Neil’s pulse stutter. Slowly, deliberately, Andrew dragged his hand higher, tracing lazy circles over the fabric of Neil’s sweatpants.

Neil swallowed hard, searching Andrew’s face for any sign of hesitation. There was none.

“You were bold earlier,” Andrew murmured, his thumb pressing into the muscle of Neil’s thigh, sending a shiver up his spine. “But now you’re quiet.”

Neil smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Just waiting to see what you’ll do next.”

Andrew’s lips quirked up, barely there, before he hooked his fingers into Neil’s hoodie and pulled him closer. Their noses brushed, breaths mingling, and Neil could feel the heat of Andrew’s body, the quiet challenge in his gaze.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Neil didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Andrew closed the gap, catching Neil’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, one that left Neil feeling like he was standing at the edge of something dangerous—and he was more than willing to fall.

He barely had a moment to breathe before Andrew deepened the kiss, his fingers curling into the fabric of Neil’s hoodie as he pulled him closer. Neil melted into it, letting Andrew take control the way he always did—firm, intentional, and just a little bit possessive.

Andrew shifted, pushing Neil back against the bed as he straddled his waist. His hands trailed from Neil’s jaw down to his chest, gripping the hoodie like he was debating whether to pull it off. Neil smirked against Andrew’s lips and murmured, “You gonna do something about it, or just keep staring?”

Andrew bit down lightly on Neil’s lower lip in response, making him gasp, before pulling away just enough to murmur, “Shut up.”

Neil would have laughed, but then Andrew leaned back down, kissing him again, slower this time. His hands skimmed Neil’s sides, and Neil felt the warmth of his touch even through the layers of clothing. Andrew wasn’t in a rush, and neither was Neil.

After what felt like forever, Andrew finally pulled back, pressing his forehead against Neil’s. His breath was steady, his expression unreadable, but his hands stayed firm on Neil’s waist.

Wordlessly, Andrew shifted to lie down beside him, pulling Neil against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Neil curled into the warmth of Andrew’s chest, letting his head rest just beneath his collarbone.

Andrew ran his fingers lazily through Neil’s damp hair, the slow, repetitive motion lulling Neil into something dangerously close to comfort. The room was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing, the occasional patter of rain against the window.

Neil exhaled, pressing a hand against Andrew’s side, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet.

Neil sighed, reluctant to move from Andrew’s warmth, but he knew he had to go. He mumbled against Andrew’s chest, “I should head back.”

Andrew’s grip on his waist tightened slightly, just for a second, before he exhaled and pulled away. “Go, then.”

Neil knew that was as close to I don’t want you to leave as he was going to get. He smirked, sitting up and stretching, deliberately slow, just to see if Andrew would stop him. When Andrew only watched him with that unreadable gaze, Neil leaned down and stole a quick kiss before getting off the bed.

Andrew didn’t react, but Neil caught the way his fingers twitched, like he was holding himself back. That was enough for Neil to leave with a smug grin.

As soon as he got back to his dorm, the warmth from Andrew’s touch started to fade, leaving the room feeling colder than it had a few minutes ago. Neil flopped onto his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He scrolled aimlessly through messages, answering a few from the team, but nothing really caught his attention. His mind kept drifting back to Andrew, to the weight of his arm, the way his fingers had traced small circles against Neil’s back.

Neil huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. He really had it bad, huh? Was this love?

The door swung open with a gust of cold, damp air as Matt stepped inside, dripping from head to toe. His hoodie clung to him, making him look half a foot shorter than usual, and his hair was plastered to his skull like he’d just lost a fight with a fire hydrant. Despite his wretched state, he was grinning as he shook out his arms and motioned at Neil to get his attention.

Neil, sprawled on his bed with his phone in hand, barely glanced up. "Got caught in the downpour?"

Matt snorted and dropped his bag by the desk. "Understatement of the year. I just passed Allison, and she’s an absolute disaster. I think her umbrella gave up on life halfway across campus. Told her I was gonna take a picture for the yearbook, and she threatened to cut my balls off with her fingernails." He ran a hand through his soaked curls, shaking his head in amusement. "Five bucks says Dan and Seth'll have to drag her out the door when it's time to leave again."

Neil hummed, only half-listening until Matt added, "On another note—you should have seen how Seth was staring at her. My dude was straight-up mesmerized, like he was looking at a goddess."

Neil raised an eyebrow. "She knows we need her."

"Yeah, yeah," Matt said, waving a hand. Then he eyed Neil with something close to curiosity. "That mean you're in?"

Neil blinked. "In on what?"

"The bet," Matt said, like it was obvious. "We've got, what, sixteen ongoing bets now, and you don't want in on any of them? Well, fourteen that you're actually qualified to bet on." He grinned. "Some of the pots are getting pretty big, and honestly? You’re in the best position to win a couple of them."

Neil rolled his eyes. "I don’t bet."

"Still?" Matt groaned dramatically. "On anything?"

Neil just stared at him, unimpressed.

Matt sighed and kicked off his wet sneakers before crossing the room. "Man, you are missing out—"

"Why fourteen?" Neil interrupted. "What happened to the other two?"

Matt grinned. "Can't bet on yourself. That's cheating."

Neil tilted his head, skeptical. "I didn’t know you were betting on me."

Matt shot him a knowing look. "We bet on everyone at one point or another. You really think we'd skip you?" He sat on the edge of his bed and smirked. "Did you know most of the team bet against me and Dan? They didn’t think I had the guts to ask her out, and they knew she’d never give me a chance."

Neil frowned. "She said no?"

"Oh, she rejected me so many times," Matt said, laughing. "She was kind of a man-hater when I met her. Can’t blame her—Coach paired her with some real assholes her freshman year. Even Allison told me not to bother."

"But you did anyway," Neil said.

"For a year," Matt confirmed. "Made Renee a small fortune when Dan finally gave in. She was the only one who bet on us. She’s always willing to bet on lost causes."

Andrew had called Neil a lost cause before. He didn’t even remember the exact context—just the feeling of Andrew’s hand over his mouth, silencing his protests, and the warmth spreading across his face at the touch. Neil swallowed and forced himself to stay present.

"That’s why you bet on Andrew and Renee," he said, grasping at a distraction.

Matt grinned. "Obviously. For a while there, Renee was the only one outside his little circle Andrew actually talked to. She said they had a lot in common, but then he let her drive his car."

Neil blinked. "And?"

Matt groaned and flopped back on his bed. "Jesus, Neil, it’s a GS. You don’t let just anyone drive that. That car is his baby."

Neil waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t see the big deal."

Matt sat up, staring at him. "Easy for you to say. Have you seen what car you drive?"

Neil shrugged. "Still doesn’t mean much to me. I was ready to let you drive my car the first week we met."

Matt gaped at him. "Okay, but this is Andrew we’re talking about. He let Renee drive it, like, two months after meeting her. Do you blame me for betting on them?" He sighed, running a hand through his still-wet hair. "Man, I was so sure that’d pan out."

Something in the past tense of that sentence caught Neil’s attention. His stomach twisted before he could stop it. "You changed your mind?"

Matt hesitated for half a second too long. "Sort of."

Neil narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Matt shrugged like it didn’t matter. "Rules are rules. Once money’s in the pot, you can’t change which side you’re on. But you can bet against it in other pots, so I might make some of my money back." He checked his watch and groaned. "Shit, it’s already after twelve. We gotta get moving. You want anything for the plane, I suggest you grab it now."

He was gone before Neil could press the issue, leaving him alone with the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Matt had been so sure about Andrew and Renee.

So what changed?

Had Matt noticed something about him and Andrew?

He shocked his head, it didn’t matter anyway.

Neil grabbed his duffle bag and small suitcase, and then pulled on the matching coat Emma had gotten for him and Andrew. It was a little ridiculous, honestly—Emma had been so smug about it—but Neil couldn’t bring himself to care. The coat was warm, and more importantly, Andrew actually wore his. That was enough for Neil.

Outside, the rain was relentless, turning the pavement into a glossy, reflective sheet. Andrew’s car was already waiting, headlights cutting through the gloom. Neil jogged toward it, ducking against the downpour as he yanked the door open. He hesitated for a split second before tossing his things into the backseat and sliding in next to Nicky. Aaron was already settled in the front passenger seat, and Neil figured he could let him have it this time.

"Kevin’s with Wymack," Nicky informed him, shifting to give Neil more space. "Probably having an intense strategy meeting. Or, you know, a brooding contest. Hard to tell with those two."

Neil huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t respond.

Andrew didn’t say anything as he pulled out of the lot, but Neil could see his fingers tapping against the wheel. Rain hammered the roof in an unsteady rhythm, filling the silence between them.

By the time they made it from the dorm to the car and the car to the stadium, the Foxes were completely drenched. Allison hadn’t even bothered with an umbrella this time—she had a second raincoat draped dramatically over her head, clearly trying to protect her freshly-done hair and makeup.

She was still the driest of all of them, but that didn’t stop her from complaining.

"This is bullshit," she announced as she stormed into the lounge, shaking water from her sleeves. "Why do we live in this hellhole? Why couldn’t we have gone to, like, UCLA? Arizona? Literally anywhere with better weather—"

Seth, clearly enjoying himself, barked out a laugh. "Should I remind you how much you hated the heat last August, or—?"

"Shut up, Gordon," Allison snapped, tugging off the raincoat with a dramatic flourish.

Wymack tolerated their rowdy arrival with his usual lack of patience, grumbling under his breath as he herded them down the hall to pack their gear. They took the team bus to the airport—cheaper to leave one car in the garage than three—and somehow made it through check-in and security without losing anyone.

Their gate was nearly at the end of the terminal, past a dozen shops and a set of restrooms. A café halfway down sent the warm scent of coffee and pastries into the air, and for a moment, Neil was tempted.

Wymack, as always, had no patience for detours.

"Eyes forward, dumbasses," he barked. "Move it."

It wasn’t until they reached the gate that Neil spotted the Vixens. They’d beaten them here and were already camped out in a cluster of seats. Beyond them, the electronic sign above the desk read Atlanta – 1:20 PM. Despite the storm raging outside, the airline wasn’t expecting a delay.

The Foxes scattered at Wymack’s okay—some dropping their carry-ons on empty chairs, others pressing up against the windows to watch the rain pound the tarmac. Neil had barely glanced around when he noticed something odd.

Andrew hadn’t moved.

Neil knew why.

His gaze flicked to Andrew, whose eyes were fixed on the far window. His posture was rigid, tension locked into his shoulders. He looked calm to an untrained eye, but Neil knew better.

Slowly, carefully, Neil reached over and took Andrew’s hand.

He squeezed—just enough to ground him, just enough to say I’m here.

Andrew’s eyes snapped to him, expression unreadable. Neil met his gaze steadily and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry," Neil murmured. "I’m here."

For a moment, Andrew didn’t move. Then, slowly, he squeezed back.

Neil stood, brushing off the warmth of Andrew’s lingering grip, and made his way toward the nearest café. He didn’t say anything—just walked off, ignoring Nicky’s raised eyebrow and Aaron’s knowing smirk. He wasn’t running errands for Andrew, not really. He just knew that Andrew tolerated flying about as much as he tolerated strangers in his space, and something sweet might make the experience marginally better.

The café’s menu was overpriced, but Neil didn’t care. He grabbed a chocolate donut and a cup of hot chocolate before making his way back. When he returned, he wordlessly handed Andrew the donut first, then the drink.

Andrew took them without question.

Nicky, unfortunately, was a question.

"Blatant favoritism," Nicky accused, eyes flicking between them. "You know he never takes what I get him? Not once. I'd be jealous if I wasn’t so against dying young."

Neil ignored him. Andrew ignored him.

Nicky, as always, persisted.

"But anyway," he continued, "we’ve got some time before takeoff. Want to come with us and grab some coffee?"

Neil wasn’t interested in entertaining Nicky’s commentary, but he did need coffee. "Yeah, sure."

That was how they ended up dragging half the team and several of the Vixens to the café. It seemed harmless enough—until Neil realized none of them had accounted for how painfully slow the line would move.

"Why is this taking forever?" Allison groaned, standing on her toes to get a better look at the front.

"Because people don’t know how to order coffee like normal humans," Dan said, crossing her arms. "Or they’re those people. You know, the ones who ask for six modifications and hold up the line for ten minutes."

"I hate those people," Seth muttered.

"You are those people," Matt pointed out, earning a shove.

Neil checked his watch and frowned. They were still waiting.

By the time they finally made it back to their gate, drinks in hand, their flight was already boarding.

"Shit," Nicky said, hurrying forward. "I swore we had more time."

Neil barely listened as they joined the queue, instead keeping a sharp eye on Andrew. He was waiting for hesitation, for Andrew’s usual resistance to getting on a plane. Maybe Andrew noticed the attention, because his expression stayed perfectly bored as he followed the team onto the aircraft.

The act lasted until they reached their seats.

Kevin, in his infinite wisdom, tried to slip into the seat between Neil and Andrew.

Neil turned his head and glared.

Kevin met his eyes and—after a solid three seconds of a silent standoff—rolled his eyes and shifted to the seat across the aisle instead.

Neil sat down, satisfied, but as he got comfortable, he realized just how small the seats were. He glanced around the cramped space and immediately wished he’d just convinced Stuart to fly the team in his private jet. Or at the very least, he could have bought first-class seats.

Instead, he was here. Cramped, slightly irritated, but next to Andrew.

The plane touched down in Atlanta with a slight jolt, the wheels skidding briefly against the wet runway before settling into a smooth glide. Neil barely noticed. The entire flight, he'd kept his hand wrapped around Andrew’s, fingers tangled together beneath the cover of their jackets. It wasn’t just for Andrew’s sake—it grounded him too, kept him focused on the warmth of Andrew’s palm instead of the stale air, the claustrophobic press of seats, or the occasional jolt of turbulence.

Andrew never said a word about it, never pulled away. He didn’t look at Neil, but his fingers squeezed back every time Neil’s grip threatened to loosen.

By the time they filed off the plane, the usual chaos of travel set in. The Foxes moved as a unit through baggage claim, standing in clusters as they waited for their luggage to appear on the conveyor belt.

"Load 'em up and line it up," Wymack instructed, slinging his own duffel over his shoulder while Abby did the same.

The team trailed after him to Ground Transportation, where a large 12-seat passenger van was waiting for them. The luggage barely fit—bags crammed into the trunk, into footwells, into any available space—but somehow, they managed to get the door closed. That was all that mattered.

Wymack pulled out a crumpled paper with handwritten directions, gave it the briefest glance, and started driving like he knew exactly where he was going.

The van ride was a mess of tired chatter and occasional bickering. Allison claimed her hair was ruined again, Nicky fell asleep with his head against Aaron’s shoulder (earning him a shove), and Kevin grumbled about how long it had been since he last had a protein shake.

They didn’t go straight to the court. Instead, Wymack pulled into the parking lot of a small Italian restaurant.

"Food. Now," he said, effectively cutting off any protests.

None of them were in the mood to argue, anyway. They were starving, and by the time the servers placed large plates of pasta and grilled chicken in front of them, the table fell into silence as they wolfed it all down.

Wymack grumbled when the bill arrived, glaring at the total as if it had personally offended him.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "You people eat like a damn army."

"We are an army," Matt pointed out, shoveling another bite of pasta into his mouth.

Wymack gave him a flat look but didn’t argue. The team knew better than to take his complaints seriously. No matter how much he bitched, Wymack always made sure they had what they needed.

By the time they finally finished, bellies full and bodies exhausted, Neil was more than ready to get back on the road. He glanced at Andrew, whose expression was unreadable as ever, but Neil could tell he was better now.

The stadium was alive with noise—cheers, shouts, and the occasional blare of a horn echoing through the packed stands. Security was tight, but the sheer number of fans pressing in made the air feel thick, suffocating. The Foxes followed Wymack in a tight pack, cutting through the chaos as they were led to the locker rooms.

Wymack flicked on every TV he could find and immediately left to check the crowd. The closest screen to Neil was playing highlights from last night’s Class I matches. Unsurprisingly, half of the replays were from the Ravens’ fifteen-eight victory.

Neil watched, analyzing their plays with sharp, practiced focus. He’d already seen this match between practice sessions, but there was always something new to catch—some slight hesitation, some flaw in their execution. He filed each one away.

Thirty minutes before serve, Wymack called for them to split up and get changed. Neil was used to the utter lack of privacy in the men’s locker room, but his teammates still had the courtesy to clear out of the bathroom long enough for him to change in peace. When he was done, he left his helmet and gloves off, knowing they still had time to kill, and rejoined the others.

"Take them on a couple laps," Wymack told Dan. "Let them get a look at the place."

The University of Texas stadium was huge—comparable to the Foxhole Court, with the same orange-and-white colors filling the rafters. It was familiar, almost comforting, until Neil tuned in to the crowd’s reaction.

The moment the Foxes appeared, the audience roared.

Some cheers, some jeers. The usual.

They ran a mile before Dan finally called it, and they jogged back to the locker room to stretch. Abby was waiting with water, Wymack standing guard over the rest of their gear. When the time came, Aaron and Nicky hauled the stick rack toward the benches, and the team followed.

The Vixens had already arrived, somehow managing to find the section reserved for Palmetto State students. At Dan’s signal, they waved an overenthusiastic greeting to the team. The response was immediate—cheers rising from their fans, loud and full of energy.

Then the Longhorns arrived.

A seemingly endless stream of orange and white moved past them. Their jerseys were the inverse of the Foxes’, making them look like mirror images—familiar but not. Neil noted the possibility of confusion on the court. A single hesitation in a high-speed game like this could be deadly.

The Longhorns took to the court for warm-ups, which meant the Foxes’ turn was next.

Wymack clapped his hands sharply. "All right, listen up. It’s time to get serious. These guys might look like friendlies in our colors, but they’re here for one reason: to knock you out of the running. They want that championship, and they know what it takes to get there. Your job is to make them look like idiots."

Abby sighed in exasperation, but Wymack ignored her.

"You’ve seen their lineup, read Neil’s notes, watched the footage. They’re quick, but they’re not impenetrable. Hold center court. Watch those dealers."

"I’ll watch them limp off my court," Dan said.

"Do what you have to do," Wymack said. "But don’t you dare get red-carded."

He shot Matt a pointed look.

Matt only grinned. Not reassuring.

"If you start losing ground, call for backup. I don’t care if it means putting a backliner on two strikers to buy time. The goalies are locking our goal down. Right?"

"We’ll do our best," Renee said with a bright smile.

Before Wymack could respond, the crowd’s volume spiked.

Neil assumed it was just the mascots stirring up excitement. The game was about to start, after all. But then he caught sight of something past Wymack’s shoulder.

A VIP section sat bracketed between the press box and the Vixens’ seats.  Neil followed the pointing fingers, scanning the area with growing dread. Then he saw them.

Riko and Jean.

The easy smirk on Riko’s face sent something sharp and cold through Neil’s chest. He hadn’t expected them here.

He felt rather than saw the shift in the team’s mood.

Matt reacted first. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"I’ll ask," Andrew said, already turning.

Wymack’s hand shot out, grabbing his hoodie and yanking him back before he could take a second step.

"You are not killing anyone the first game of the season," Wymack snapped. "Worry less about them and more about your offense line. Focus, Kevin. You too, Neil. I don’t want you anywhere near them, got it? No accidents this time."

Neil smirked. "But why, Coach? I have so much I want to say to Riko. Just five minutes, okay?"

Wymack leveled him with a look that could’ve turned anyone else to dust. "Don’t you dare leave my sight, Hatford. I mean it."

Neil raised his hands in mock surrender, but his gaze flicked back to Riko.

The smirk on Riko’s face had darkened, his eyes locked onto Neil with something unreadable.

He was planning something. Neil clenched his fists.

Andrew settled in on Neil’s left, a silent barrier between him and the rest of the world. More specifically, between Neil and the smirking specter of Riko hiding in the stands.

"Where was I?" Wymack asked.

"Offense, I think," Neil said, forcing himself to look away. He turned to Kevin, who was still frozen, his face pale as he stared at Riko. Neil nudged him sharply until Kevin’s attention snapped back. "Fair warning: if they put Beckstein as my mark, I’m going to have to rely on side passes all night. He’s got a foot on me, so if he catches my stick on an upward swing, it’ll pull me too far and I’ll tear something."

Kevin started to reply, but Andrew beat him to it. "Eight inches. He’s only five-eleven."

Neil and Kevin turned to stare at him.

Wymack barely suppressed a grin. He knew exactly what that remark meant for the Foxes’ chances tonight. The rest of the team, unaware of the significance, continued talking strategy. Dan said something to Allison about adjusting to Neil’s potential disadvantage, but Neil wasn’t listening anymore.

Height was one of the most critical stats in Exy. It dictated everything—stick length, reach, angles of attack. Most players only needed a rough estimate to gauge their matchups. But Neil and Kevin? They memorized the exact heights of every Longhorn backliner because they needed to. It was how Kevin mapped weaknesses and how Neil predicted gaps in defense.

Andrew had no reason to know Beckstein’s height.

Beckstein was a backliner, nowhere near Andrew’s goal—at least, not if the Foxes did their job right. More importantly, Wymack had only listed heights once, during their initial breakdown of the UT lineup. The stat was in last week’s pamphlet, but Andrew had shoved his copy into his locker without a second glance. As far as Neil had seen, he never took it out again.

Andrew had looked utterly disinterested when Wymack went over the lineup. But he’d heard every word. And he’d remembered.

Neil thought back to Belmonte last fall. They’d won because Andrew had remembered a single throwaway comment Wymack made about penalty shots. It hadn’t even come down to penalties, but when the Belmonte striker had only seconds left on the clock, under immense pressure, he’d defaulted to what was familiar. Andrew had known exactly where the shot was going before the striker even took it.

Eidetic memory.

Neil looked at Kevin, then at Wymack, wondering if they’d known. Wondering why Andrew hasn’t told him.

He wanted to test it.

Neil scrolled through UT’s offense in his head and settled on a fifth-year striker. "How tall is Lakes?"

Andrew didn’t even glance at him. "Look it up."

Neil wasn’t letting it go. He hooked his gloved fingers in the netted head of Andrew’s racquet and gave a careful tug. "Humor me just this once," he said.

Andrew barely spared him a glance before answering, "Five-eight."

"Five-six?" Matt guessed at the same time.

"Five-eight," Andrew repeated, deadpan.

"Close enough." Matt shrugged.

Neil released Andrew’s racquet, but his grip on his own tightened. A slow, certain grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"We’re going to win," he said.

Dan raised an eyebrow. "You were expecting us to lose?"

Neil shook his head. "No."

The words felt almost foreign in his mouth. His lips twitched, stretching into a smile he knew was scarier then his sperm donor’s.

Neil leaned back slightly, gaze sliding past Andrew to Riko and exhaled sharply. "I’m just glad he’s here to see it. Let’s see if we can’t rattle him. If I could just get my hands on him, I would—"

"Relax, Neil." Seth cut in, voice dry but firm. "He’s not worth the scandal."

Matt clapped a hand on Neil’s shoulder, a solid, grounding weight. "Seth’s right. Focus on the game."

Wymack, sensing the conversation teetering toward dangerous territory, decided to move things along. "Anyway, imagine I actually finished saying anything important because it’s too late now. The court’s open. Usual drills, ones and threes. And I say this every damn time because you make me say this every damn time: keep the balls on our goddamn side of the court, Andrew."

The Foxes yanked on the last of their gear and stepped onto the court.

Game on.

The Foxes stepped off the court for the coin toss. Dan won them first serve, earning a chorus of cheers from the Palmetto fans in the stands. Wymack used the brief window before line-ups were called to gather the team close.

"Remember," he said, voice low but commanding. "It's two out of three to advance, and you cannot afford to lose the first game of the season. Strikers, three goals apiece or I’m signing you up for a marathon. Backliners, if you look like idiots, you’ll be running with them. Dealers: you've got this. Renee, play it like you know how. Andrew, keep them at three or under for your half, and I’ll buy you enough alcohol to drown in."

Andrew didn’t acknowledge the bribe, but Neil caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

The announcer’s voice echoed through the stadium, calling both teams' starting line-ups to the court. Neil took his place at the half-court line, scanning the players across from him.

Perfect. Beckstein was up against Kevin.

Neil sent a look Kevin’s way, and Kevin answered with a sharp nod. Energy coiled in Neil’s limbs, anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. He was practically bouncing by the time the buzzer sounded.

The first stretch of the game was a ruthless back-and-forth.

Collisions came hard and fast. Near-misses had hearts stopping in the stands. More than a few curses were exchanged.

At one point, a Longhorn player made a mistake—tried to get in Neil’s face, maybe expecting him to back down. Instead, Neil shut him down with a brutal comeback and an even nastier glare. The guy hesitated a fraction of a second too long, and Neil was already gone, cutting across the court in a blur of speed.

Wymack had been right to warn them about the Longhorns' dealers. The girl Texas put in as a starter was fast, aggressive, and played dirty. She and Dan went at it non-stop, jostling for position even when the ball wasn’t anywhere near them. Their sticks clashed in a constant battle for dominance.

Neil had no idea how Dan lasted ten minutes before snapping.

The next time the ball came near the dealers, Dan ducked, hooked her body under her mark, and flipped the girl clean off her feet.

The crowd went wild.

To add insult to injury, Dan had the audacity to offer the girl a gloved hand back up.

The fallen dealer swatted it away and shoved herself to her feet. The next second, they were chest to chest, fingers jabbing and voices rising.

The referees barely made it halfway across the court before the Longhorn dealer punched Dan in the mouth.

Dan didn't even flinch. She threw her hands up, refusing to retaliate. She’d already won. Both players got yellow cards, and the referees reset gameplay from a neutral position. That almost-fight flipped a switch in the game.

The rest of the first half was nothing short of brutal.

By the time the halftime bell rang, Neil's body ached in more places than he could count. But pain didn’t matter—not when the scoreboard showed Andrew had done exactly what Wymack asked, giving up only two goals. The Foxes, on the other hand, had already netted four.

Neil trailed his teammates off the court for halftime, ignoring the reporters Wymack was casually waving off. The locker room was a mess of pacing, stretching, and wiping off sweat, but no one was letting up. The Longhorns were playing rough, and the Foxes had to be sharper.

The second half was even worse.

Texas played dirty.

They threw every trick they had at the Foxes, getting two players red-carded and five yellowed in the process. Their constant aggression wore the Foxes thin, but Palmetto knew better than to retaliate. One yellow card wouldn’t bench them, but two in a row would eject them, and they needed everyone in the game.

They toed the line carefully, letting Texas dig their own graves. When the Longhorns got too reckless, the Foxes took full advantage, turning penalty shots into points.

By the final buzzer, the scoreboard read:

8-6, Foxes favor.

When the Foxes filed off the court, Renee veered from their path—heading straight for Riko.

Neil stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing. What is she doing? Renee wasn’t the kind to pick a fight, but if Riko so much as looked at her the wrong way, Neil wouldn’t hesitate. His fingers twitched at his sides, ready to throw a punch if necessary.

Riko, however, didn’t take the hand she offered.

Jean did.

The handshake lasted a beat too long—an awkward pause where neither seemed willing to let go.

Neil watched with sharp interest. He remembered Jean’s reaction to Renee at the fall banquet: the lingering look, the unease. It was the missing piece from his thoughts back at Reddin. Jean had accepted Riko and Tetsuji’s cruelty because he had nothing outside of the Ravens. No escape, no alternatives. He survived by keeping his head down.

But Renee—she was the first bright thing to catch his attention.

“He’s interested in her,” Neil said, more of an observation than a question.

Kevin, watching just as intently, didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t work.”

Neil knew what he meant. Ravens weren’t allowed to date. Tetsuji forbade distractions. Renee knew that, and yet here she was—standing in front of Jean anyway. Maybe Neil was overthinking her intentions.

“Maybe not,” Neil said, “but it could give us an edge.”

Neil let it go, trailing after his teammates toward the locker room. He wasn’t in the mood for reporters, and thankfully, Dan and Kevin had agreed to handle the post-game interviews.

But he barely made it eight steps before someone shouted after him.

"Neil, is it true you're marked for Court?"

The smart thing to do was ignore it. Keep walking. Pretend he hadn’t heard over the noise of the crowd.

Instead, Neil froze.

The words hung in the air, an invisible tripwire tightening around his throat. He forced himself to stare straight ahead, weighing his options, his responses—what he could say versus what he shouldn’t.

Slowly, he turned back.

“The fuck did you just say?”

He undid the straps on his helmet, stepping toward the reporters with deliberate intent. Andrew plucked the helmet from his hands as he passed, and Renee took it from Andrew without a word, continuing on to the locker room. Neil tucked his gloves under one arm and stopped beside Kevin, gaze locked onto the trio of reporters. Kevin tried to stop him, muttering in a in tense French. "Just ignore it. Don’t say anything" which made Neil more furious than before.

The woman who’d spoken squared her shoulders, unfazed. “The Ravens' coach, Tetsuji Moriyama, commented on changes in their starting line. Riko hinted that you trained with him before and you both make a good pair. What do you have to say about that?”

She thrust the microphone toward him, eyes searching for any crack in his expression.

Neil’s blood boiled.

Riko—that son of a bitch. What the hell was he trying to pull? Making up stories? What was he trying to achieve?

Neil exhaled sharply through his nose. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you. Riko’s a good player, but he’s hard to respect.” His voice was steady, measured—however beneath it was the sharp edge of anger. “I only play with people I respect.”

He let that sink in before continuing, “As for me and Riko as a duo? Not happening. Yeah, we played together as kids, but then I moved, and we lost contact. That’s why I turned down his very generous invitation to Evermore over Christmas break.” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “We’re entirely different people now. And I promise you—we would not work out.”

The reporter wasn’t done. “There’s a rumor you might transfer to Edgar Allan.”

Neil almost laughed. “I’ll never get where I need to be if I play with the Ravens.” He let that settle for a beat before adding, “Besides, I could barely tolerate them for a few hours. I can’t imagine playing with them for four years.” He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just enough to turn sharp. “They’re horrible human beings.”

Before she could ask another question, Neil cut her off.

“But you know what?” He tilted his head, expression twisting into something sharp, something dangerous. “We promised the Ravens a rematch this spring. So I’ll be cheering them all the way to finals.” He smiled—a slow, dangerous thing. “Because if Riko didn’t think we could make it, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to get me on his side.”

His gaze darkened.

“He just hasn’t figured out yet that we’re going to win the next time we meet.”

A pause. A heartbeat.

Then, for the finishing touch, Neil added, “Keep an eye on us, won’t you? It’s going to be an exciting year.”

And then, because he wanted Riko to hear it, to feel the weight of the warning pressing against his throat, Neil added:

“Oh, and a special message for Riko—don’t forget what the past taught you. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself making the same mistake twice.”

The reporters buzzed, sensing the tension, the unspoken challenge.

Neil didn’t give them time to respond.

“Good night,” he said, turning on his heel before they could fire another question his way. He strode toward the locker room without hesitation, ignoring their voices calling after him.

He didn’t need to hear the rest.

He’d already said everything that mattered.

Neil stormed into the locker room, his skin buzzing with anger and frustration. He wanted out of here—out of Atlanta, out of this arena, out of this conversation before it even started.

But of course, Kevin and Dan followed right after him.

Dan was laughing, still high on adrenaline, but Neil wasn’t paying her any attention. His eyes were locked on Kevin, who was muttering under his breath—complaining, whining—about what Neil had said.

Neil had had enough.

Kevin had almost a foot on him, but that didn’t mean anything when he wasn’t expecting a fight. Neil shoved him hard, slamming him into the door with enough force to rattle the hinges.

Dan gaped.

Andrew, who had once knocked Matt flat for so much as touching Kevin, neatly stepped out of the way. Neither of them was going to interfere, so Neil tuned them out and focused on Kevin.

"Enough," Neil snapped in rapid, furious French. "Don’t ever try to censor me again. I’m not going to let him say whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Not him, and definitely not his uncle."

Kevin's hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re going to bring him down on all of us,” he shot back. “You may have protection, but we don’t. You don’t think about how he can ruin each one of us.”

“You aren’t thinking either,” Neil hissed. “You can’t be afraid of him anymore.”

Kevin let out a harsh breath, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. “It’s not a switch you can turn on and off. You, of all people, should know that.”

He finally pushed Neil off, but didn’t move past him. He couldn’t, not when Neil still had more to say.

"You didn’t grow up with him," Kevin said, his voice low and biting. "You don’t get to judge me."

“I’m not judging you,” Neil countered, his anger sharp as a blade. “I’m telling you it’s past time to stand your ground. What’s the point of any of this if you’re still his pet at the end of the day? If you really believed in us—if you really believed in yourself—you’d push back.”

Kevin’s eyes flashed. “You don’t understand.”

"You think I don’t?" Neil shot back, his voice rising. "You know who my father is. You know I escaped him. You can do it too. You have a way out. You have a future. So why won’t you take it? Why are you so afraid to take it?"

Just like that, his anger cracked, breaking apart under the weight of premature grief and too much need.

Kevin must have heard it—that raw, frayed edge in Neil’s voice—because his expression shifted from frustration to something quieter, something almost wary.

But Neil wasn’t done.

"You know I came here because of you," Neil said, his voice hoarse but insistent. "I heard about your injury, and I knew something wasn’t right. I wanted to help you beat Riko because I knew you could do it. But you still believe in that number on your face. What’s so important about being second-best?"

Kevin didn’t answer him.

Instead, he looked at Andrew—not that Andrew could follow any of this conversation. But Kevin wasn’t looking for help.

Because when he finally spoke, he said, "When we tried to sign Andrew to the Ravens, he said the same thing. He said I didn’t interest him because I made a career out of coming second."

Kevin exhaled sharply. “I don’t want this,” he admitted. "But I’m not like you."

His frustration burned through every word, but the anger wasn’t directed at Neil anymore. It was turned inward.

"I have always been Riko's," Kevin said, and the bitterness in his voice was something close to self-loathing. "I know more than anyone what happens when you defy a Moriyama."

"You know," Neil agreed, voice quieter now. "But they already took everything away from you. What else do you have to lose?"

Kevin didn’t answer.

Neil let the silence stretch between them for a moment before stepping back, giving Kevin the space he clearly didn’t know what to do with.

He turned, walking toward the exit, only to find Wymack waiting at the end of the hall. Arms crossed. An unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

He arched a brow as Neil approached.

"I don’t know if you recall," Wymack said, "but we won. Any particular reason you’re trying to kill the good mood?"

"Just a difference of opinions," Neil said, forcing his voice into something resembling calm.

He hesitated in the doorway of the changing room and glanced back at Wymack.

"Oh, and sorry in advance about the press," he said, tone flat. "In my defense, they started it."

Wymack groaned. "Christ alive. What did you do this time?"

"He called Riko a Class I douchebag," Dan supplied helpfully. "Not in so many words, but I think they got the message."

Wymack pressed his thumb into his temple like he had a headache. "I should have asked for hazard pay when I took this job. Out, out, out. I’m not dealing with your attitude problem until I’ve had a couple drinks."

He pointed at the rest of them, eyes sharp.

"That goes for the rest of you, too. Get out of my sight and get cleaned up. If you’re not on the van with your gear in twenty minutes, I’m leaving you here."

He turned, heading back toward the tunnel, but threw one last parting shot over his shoulder.

"And hey," he added. "Good job tonight."

Neil should have moved faster, but he wasted ten minutes in the shower. He turned the water too hot and didn’t care that it scalded his skin.

Didn’t care that it left his hands red and raw.

Didn’t care that it still wasn’t enough to burn away the anger curling inside him.

Neil stepped out of the shower, towel slung over his shoulders, steam still clinging to his skin. He half-expected the locker room to be empty, but Andrew was there, leaning against the lockers like he had all the time in the world.

Waiting for him.

Neil ignored him at first, heading to his locker to grab his clothes, but Andrew’s voice cut through the quiet.

"Any particular reason you almost beat Kevin black and blue?"

Neil let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair. "I just hate seeing someone like Kevin accept a role someone else decided for him. He has so much potential, so much talent, but he’s wasting it because of what? Fear? Cowardice?" He shook his head, voice tight with frustration. "I want to get his point, but I just can’t."

Andrew watched him, silent as Neil dressed, arms still loosely crossed over his chest. He didn’t interrupt—not when Neil pulled on his shirt, not when he shoved his feet into his sneakers like they’d personally wronged him.

When Neil was finally done, Andrew pushed off the lockers and stepped into his space, hands coming up to cup Neil’s face. His touch was firm, grounding.

"I know you want to help him," Andrew said, voice even. "But Kevin is a stubborn coward." His fingers curled slightly against Neil’s jaw. "If anyone can change his mindset, though, it’s you. So instead of wasting time being pissed, move your stupid ass—because we have five minutes before Wymack leaves us here."

Neil smirked, tilting his head just enough to be insufferable. "My stupid ass? The same you are so obsessed with?"

Andrew didn’t hesitate. He slid one hand down and grabbed Neil’s ass, fingers pressing in just enough to prove a point.

"You’re missing my point," he said flatly.

Neil’s smirk widened. "You didn’t deny it."

Chapter Text

Neil had expected some retaliation from the Ravens after his comments—maybe a public dig at his skills, a snide remark from one of their players in an interview. He’d even braced himself for an on-court grudge match.

But this?

This was pathetic.

The Ravens handled Neil’s insults with detached arrogance. Their only official comment on the matter was that they couldn't care less what a loudmouthed amateur had to say about them.

It was the kind of dismissal Neil had anticipated, but still, he’d expected something. A sharper bite, a retaliatory interview, a challenge. He wasn’t pushing for a fight, but he wouldn’t have minded one either.

The fans, however, were less tolerant. Their retaliation started before sunrise Saturday.

A pounding on the door startled Neil awake. He blinked at the dim light filtering through the window and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. The pounding stopped just long enough for Matt’s phone to start ringing. Matt groaned, rolled over, and blindly smacked at the bedside table for his phone. The pounding resumed, rattling the doorframe with renewed urgency.

Neil slung his legs over the side of the bed and climbed down the ladder. Voices in the hallway were loud enough to carry through the walls—muffled but unmistakably angry. As Neil pulled the door open, he caught the word “cops.”

Before he could ask what was going on, Dan shoved past him, making a beeline for the bedroom. Neil leaned into the hall, watching as dorm doors flew open. Some athletes were already bolting for the stairwell like their lives depended on it. Others stuck around to rant at each other, their voices a chaotic mix of anger and disbelief.

Neil closed the door and turned back just as Dan shook Matt awake.

"—trashed the cars," she was saying.

Matt was on his feet in an instant. Neil boosted himself up his ladder just enough to grab his keys from under his pillow. Matt yanked a jacket over his pajama pants and pulled on his shoes with barely restrained fury. His hands smacked against his jacket pockets until his keys jangled in response.

By the time Neil found his own shoes, Matt was already gone, Dan hot on his heels. Neil locked the door and ran after them, catching up in the stairwell just as Matt jumped the last flight and threw the back door open.

The sight that met them was a disaster.

The parking lot reeked of raw meat and rotting eggs, the air thick with the tang of vandalism and cheap revenge. Broken eggshells crunched underfoot, sticking to the layer of ground beef, raw fish, and smashed tomatoes that coated the pavement. Rocks glistened with fresh blood where they had been used to shatter windows, and the damage ranged from mild to catastrophic.

Some cars had suffered minor attacks—scratches, a few broken mirrors, a couple of cracked windshields. Others were completely trashed.

Squad cars and campus security were already on the scene, officers taking statements, snapping pictures, and surveying the wreckage with practiced indifference.

Neil’s stomach twisted into a cold knot when his eyes landed on Matt’s truck.

It was beyond wrecked. Every single window had been shattered, leaving jagged shards of glass glinting in the frames. The tires had been slashed and deflated, the side panels and hood pounded in with blunt force. Someone had taken extra time to make sure it was a complete loss.

Allison’s car was in a similar state a few spots down. She stood beside it with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her face frozen in stony fury. At their approach, she flicked a sharp look toward Matt’s truck before cutting a hard glare at Neil.

And then Neil saw his own car.

Or what was left of it.

His gray Jaguar F-Pace—the one Stuart had bought him, the one Emma had teased him about, the one he had stupidly assumed was safe—was ruined.

The windshield was obliterated, spiderwebbed from a dozen different impact points. The headlights had been smashed in, leaving dark, gaping holes. Dents and deep scratches marred the once-pristine bodywork, words carved into the paint with a sharp edge.

"Raven’s Revenge" was gouged into the hood, the letters crude but unmistakable.

Neil’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the noise of the parking lot.

"Oh, these bastards," he seethed.

Matt looked just as furious, his face red with rage. “I’m going to kill them,” he gritted out.

Allison exhaled sharply through her nose. “You’d have to find them first.”

Neil’s phone buzzed in his pocket, dragging his attention away from the wreckage. He didn’t have to check the caller ID to know who it was.

Stuart.

He sighed, forcing himself to breathe before he answered. "Yeah?"

"Your car is totaled, isn’t it?" Stuart’s voice was flat, unreadable.

Neil shot a glance back at the Jaguar’s destroyed frame. "You could say that."

Silence stretched on the other end, and then Stuart’s tone darkened. "Who did this?"

Neil’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Fans. Raven fans, probably. They weren’t happy about what I said in the interview."

Stuart made a considering noise. "You want me to handle it?"

Neil knew exactly what he meant.

"Not yet," he said, shaking his head even though Stuart couldn’t see him. "Let me see what the cops do first."

Stuart sighed. "Fine. But if they don’t do enough, I will."

The call ended, and Neil shoved his phone back into his pocket, turning back to Matt and Allison.

Dan had joined them now, her face carefully neutral as she surveyed the damage. “Campus security is reviewing the footage, but I wouldn’t hold your breath,” she muttered.

Matt scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “So what? They just get away with this?”

Allison’s jaw tightened. "If they do, we find our own way to handle it."

Neil exchanged a glance with her. They were on the same page.

"I'm sorry," Neil said.

Allison turned on him with an immediate, razor-sharp glare. Her lip curled, disgust clear in the way her nose scrunched ever so slightly.

"Shut up. No, you're not."

Neil barely had time to open his mouth before she cut him off again.

"You're not," she repeated, her voice as sharp as the broken glass beneath their feet. It wasn’t an accusation—it was an order. A demand that he wouldn’t try to contradict her, that he wouldn’t insult her intelligence with empty words.

Neil knew better than to argue when Allison Reynolds was pissed.

"If you'd let them steamroll you yesterday after all of this," she said, flicking her fingers toward her wrecked car, her voice tight with barely controlled anger, "I would hate you."

Neil exhaled slowly through his nose.

"You told them the truth," Dan said, her voice steady but firm. "It's not your fault they don’t like it."

Neil shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I don’t want this fight coming back on you."

Allison let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Too late for that now."

Her tone was light, mocking, but Neil wasn’t fooled. She was pissed.

She turned back toward her car, her arms folding tightly across her chest. The tension was there—coiled into every muscle, woven into the way her fingers curled into her sleeves.

"But whatever," she added, forcibly casual. "They want to break my toy? So what? I'll buy another one. Maybe I'll buy two."

She lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders, exuding the kind of controlled arrogance that made people believe she was untouchable.

"Fuck them if they think this will hurt me," she muttered.

Neil studied her carefully.

 The words were meant to be dismissive. Careless. But Allison’s hands were fisted so tightly at her sides that her knuckles had turned white. And she still hadn’t looked away from the wreckage of her car. She was furious.

And Neil understood.

Even though she could buy another one, that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t about the car—it was about the message. The deliberate, calculated attack.

They had made it personal.

Neil felt his own anger sharpen. It was one thing to go after him. It was another thing entirely to go after his team.

"Hey," Matt said suddenly, his voice low and urgent.

Neil’s attention snapped up, following the quick jerk of Matt’s chin toward the back doors of Fox Tower.

Andrew was here.

Renee led him down the steps, her hand lightly brushing his arm, the kind of soft, steady presence that she carried like second nature.

Neil wasn’t sure why she had brought Andrew here first. His car was parked further back.

Neil’s chest tightened.

Andrew stopped beside him, his sharp gaze sweeping over the scene.

Neil turned his head slightly, watching Andrew instead of the wreckage.

Waiting.

Andrew’s face was as unreadable as ever. But Neil wasn’t stupid. He could read Andrew in ways no one else could. The tightness in his jaw. The almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers flexed once before tucking into his pockets.

He wasn’t unbothered. He was just as irritated as the others.

Andrew didn’t say a word.

Instead, he glanced over the wreckage-Matt’s destroyed truck, Allison’s wrecked Porshe, Neil’s shattered Jaguar- before looking back at Neil.

Neil raised an eyebrow.

Andrew’s face remained blank, but his silence said enough.

The air between them felt heavy.

Renee, still standing next to Allison, finally broke the silence. She hooked her arm through Allison’s and squeezed her hand gently. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Allison didn’t answer immediately.

She inhaled slowly, carefully, and when she finally spoke, her voice was flat. "Doesn’t matter."

That was when Seth stumbled onto the scene. Neil barely kept from rolling his eyes.

Seth looked like absolute shit.

His hair was a mess, his shirt was only half-buttoned, and there was a stain on his sleeve that Neil didn’t even want to think about.

It took him a full five seconds to register the scene.

First, he squinted at the destroyed cars. Then at the broken glass. Then at Neil. And then back at the cars.

"The fuck happened?" Seth asked, voice hoarse from either sleep or alcohol. Probably both.

Allison didn’t even turn toward him when she answered.

"Raven fans happened."

Seth whistled low. "Shit."

Then he cursed again. Louder this time.

Neil barely listened.

His focus was still locked on Andrew, waiting, watching.

"Has anyone called Coach yet?" Neil asked.

Dan sighed, rubbing her temple. "He called us. Cops are notifying all the coaches, getting them down here to help corral us. He should be here any minute."

Andrew hummed. Just a low, unimpressed sound. Then, without another word, he turned and started walking away to his car.

Allison nudged Renee, a silent permission to go after him. But before Renee could move—Neil stopped her. She tilted her head slightly, watching Neil for a second before letting him go instead.

Neil didn’t think. He just moved.

The crowd had tripled in size, furious athletes scattered through the wreckage, shouting, ranting, calling their parents, taking pictures.

They were collateral damage.

This fight wasn’t theirs.

And yet, they were paying for it.

Because of him.

Neil felt a sharp sting of guilt. It was foreign. Uncomfortable. And he hated it.

But what was done was done.

That didn’t mean the people responsible wouldn’t pay.

One way or another.

And Neil would make sure of it.

They reached Andrew’s car then, and for the first time since stepping into the chaos of the wrecked parking lot, Neil stopped thinking about everyone else.

Neil hadn’t been prepared.

Not for this.

His gaze had been fixed on the asphalt as they walked, still simmering with frustration over the Ravens fans' attack, but when Andrew stopped walking, Neil finally looked up—

And froze. His breath hitched. His stomach plummeted. His mouth fell open in silent disbelief.

If Neil’s Jaguar had been a message, this was a declaration of war.

The Ravens' fans hadn’t just slashed Andrew’s tires or shattered his windows.

They hadn’t stopped at keyed doors or petty dents.

They had destroyed it.

A full-body sledgehammer assault.

The frame was pounded in so violently that the once-sleek shape of the car had been warped into something almost unrecognizable. Fist-deep craters dented the hood and doors, the metal folding inward from the sheer brutality of the hits. The entire body was covered in deep gouges where steel had been ripped apart.

But the worst part was the spray paint.

Red. Bright, angry, screaming red. Scrawled across the mangled hood in jagged, furious letters—

"TRAITOR."

Neil’s fingers curled into fists.

His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything else.

It was bad enough that they’d wrecked the outside, but when Neil’s gaze snapped to the inside, it somehow got worse.

The front seats were shredded, the leather ripped open and gutted, exposing the padding beneath in jagged, uneven slashes.

The backseat wasn’t spared either.

As far as knives could reach through the shattered, nonexistent windows, they had torn everything apart.

And that wasn’t all.

Compost bags.

Someone had burst open compost bags in the backseat.

The interior of the car was buried under a mountain of rotting waste—

Leftover food.

Coffee filters soaked in old grounds.

Bones stripped clean of meat.

And on top of it all, perched mockingly at the peak of the disgusting pile—

A dead fox.

Neil’s stomach churned.

He was furious.

This wasn’t about him anymore.

They poked the bear.

And they had no idea what they had just unleashed.

Neil didn’t realize he had moved until he was already next to Andrew, stepping closer, searching his face.

Andrew was motionless.

His expression was empty.

Too empty.

Neil had seen Andrew calm.

Neil had seen Andrew unimpressed.

Neil had even seen Andrew apathetic.

But this?

This wasn’t calm.

This was cold.

His jaw was set, his hands buried in his jacket pockets, his posture perfectly relaxed. But Neil knew better than to believe that.

There was a storm brewing.

And Andrew’s silence was the eye of the hurricane.

Neil lifted his hand in a silent question.

Andrew met his gaze.

And nodded.

Neil didn’t hesitate.

He took Andrew’s hand.

And then, without a second thought, he pulled out his phone and called Stuart.

The phone only rang twice.

“Neil?” Stuart answered, alert and wary.

Neil’s voice was sharp.

Unforgiving.

Final.

"Find who did this," Neil said, fingers tightening around Andrew’s hand.

He inhaled, slow and controlled.

And then, just as calmly, coldly, and mercilessly as the destruction in front of him—

"Make them pay."

An anguished wail jarred Neil from his anger.

He snapped his head up just in time to see Nicky stumbling onto the scene, Aaron and Kevin in tow.

Nicky looked devastated, his face draining of color as he took in the wretched state of the car. Aaron looked like he'd been sucker punched, his expression caught between disbelief and simmering rage.

Kevin, ever the realist, had one hand clamped over his nose and mouth, but Neil still caught the wide-eyed horror in his green gaze. It only took a second for Kevin to meet Neil’s stare.

The look he gave him screamed: "I warned you."

Neil’s jaw locked. His teeth ground together so hard his head throbbed with the pressure. If Andrew hadn’t been holding his hand, Neil would have decked Kevin right there in the parking lot.

But before Neil could snap, Andrew turned his head just enough to flick Kevin a cold, shut-the-fuck-up look.

Kevin’s mouth snapped shut like a trap.

Nicky, oblivious to the tension, stumbled closer, pressing unsteady hands to the misshapen hood of the car.

"No, no, no," he muttered, his voice cracking. "What did they do to you, baby? What did—"

His breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. His entire body seized up.

"—is that a dead animal?"

His voice rose two octaves in horror.

"Oh, Jesus," he gasped. "Aaron, there’s a dead animal in our car. I’m going to be sick."

Aaron, ever the pessimist, took a cautious step forward and leaned over to look inside.

The second he caught sight of the rotting mess and the fox’s limp, lifeless body, he recoiled with a sharp, vicious curse.

He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, half to block out the smell, half to regain his composure.

Then he turned his glare on Neil "You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?"

Neil held Aaron’s stare and didn’t flinch.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice even. "I didn’t think you'd get caught up in it."

Aaron snorted.

"Right," he muttered. "You better fix this mess."

Neil met his glare head-on "Working on it,"

Aaron didn’t look convinced, but he let it go with a muttered curse.

The upperclassmen arrived then, swarming the car, voices raised in shock and outrage.

Neil barely listened.

Their words blurred together in a mess of:

"Jesus Christ."

"This is worse than I thought."

"Who the hell does something like this?"

"They really went all out, huh?"

Then Wymack arrived. Neil felt the shift in the air before he even turned to look.

The Foxes fell silent.

Even the ones who had been ranting the loudest.

Wymack took one long look at Andrew’s car. Then, without a word, he shook a cigarette into his hand and tapped it against his palm. Andrew, still standing at Neil’s side, silently held out a hand. The one that wasn’t holding Neil’s.

Wymack handed over the cigarette without hesitation. He lit his own, watching as Andrew took a slow, steady drag. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Andrew turned slightly and passed the cigarette to Neil who took it without a word and inhaled. Wymack exhaled smoke and finally spoke.

"Well," he muttered, tone bone-dry, "at least you upgraded your insurance policy last year."

"Fat lot of good that does us," Nicky muttered.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and toed the bent bumper.

"This mess can't be fixed. Even if they ripped out and replaced the entire interior, I couldn't get back into it without getting the heebie-jeebies."

His voice pitched up again.

"Did you see the dead fox, Coach? They put a dead animal in our car. Ugh."

"Pigs," Aaron said, voice tight.

Neil wasn’t listening anymore. His focus sharpened on something else entirely. It only took a second for him to notice the cops. They were two cars down now, slowly making their way to Andrew’s wrecked vehicle.

"Cameras, too," he murmured under his breath.

At some point, the police had cordoned off the parking lot. A checkpoint had been set up for arriving coaches, and beyond it, two press vans had parked at the perimeter. Reporters were already snapping dozens of photos of the dismal scene.

Neil clenched his jaw. They were going to have a hell of a time shutting this down.

The cops reached them a few minutes later.

One of them made a slow lap around the car, jotting down the license plate number and scribbling out notes on the damage.

On his second lap, he pulled out a camera.

He shooed the Foxes away with a sharp flick of his wrist. Neil almost laughed at the futility of it.

Like a couple of photographs could capture the sheer violence of the scene.

The other cop—a tired-looking man with lines etched into his face—swept his gaze across the Foxes before lifting his notepad.

His pen hovered over the paper.

"Whose car is this?" he asked.

"Ours," Nicky said immediately, raising a hand.

"Well, it's in Andrew's name, but I'm on the insurance policy, too. We're cousins, see?"

The cop blinked slowly.

Nicky continued without missing a beat.

"Nicky Hemmick and Andrew Minyard, room 317. You need the registration or anything, I can tell you where to find it, but I'd really rather not reach in and get it for you."

His voice pitched up again.

"Look inside the car," he urged. "You'll understand why. No, really, look inside."

The cop flicked his eyes toward the interior but didn’t react. Neil guessed he’d stopped caring about sixty angry athletes ago.

"Did you see or hear anything unusual last night or this morning?" the cop asked.

"Friday night on a college campus," Nicky said with an apologetic shrug. "You learn to tune things out if you want to get any sleep. Besides, our room faces the front of the building."

The cop turned his attention to Aaron.

"What about you?"

"No," Aaron said.

Finally, the cop looked to Andrew who stared back, expressionless. And then, with perfect disinterest, he took a slow drag off his cigarette.

Neil almost smiled.

Nicky, sensing the impending disaster, stepped in.

"He found out when I did," Nicky said, voice quick and breezy "Renee stopped by and woke us up when she heard the news. Uh, Renee's our teammate."

The cop narrowed his eyes.

Nicky shrugged.

"Yeah, sorry. Andrew doesn’t talk to cops."

Neil’s lips twitched.

"It's a long story and completely irrelevant," Nicky added. "What else do you need to know?"

The cop stared at them for a long beat. Then he sighed and asked a few more questions. Most of them were directed at Andrew.

Andrew, predictably, ignored them.

Eventually, the cop gave up and moved on.

A pair of insurance agents arrived, weaving through the wreckage like grim reapers with clipboards. They moved from car to car, taking notes and talking to their clients, met with varying levels of hostility from the Foxes. Some athletes answered in clipped tones, too tired and frustrated to argue. Others, like Allison, asked pointed questions about compensation and how soon they could expect a replacement.

Neil didn’t pay much attention until a woman in a dark ponytail and a business suit stopped in front of Andrew. There was a slight straightening of her shoulders before she gave a tight, professional smile.

"Mr. Andrew, Mr. Nicky," she greeted, scanning her tablet before looking at them. "I’m really sorry this happened to you ."

Andrew remained silent, but Nicky let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Yeah, real shame, huh? Can’t believe it.” His voice was light, but his eyes were sharp.

The agent winced but didn’t respond, quickly diving into her checklist. She asked them a few standard questions, took her own set of photos, and noted everything down. By the time she moved on, tow trucks were rolling onto the scene.

The first car was lifted with a groaning creak, its mangled body swinging slightly before being settled onto the platform. One by one, the wrecked cars were hauled away, but it was going to take hours, maybe days, for the lot to be cleared.

Wymack, watching the growing chaos, exhaled through his nose and turned to the team. "We’re footing the bill for rental cars and vans for a week. I’ll get the two we need sometime today. It might take the shop a while to get around to you"—he gestured vaguely at the extent of the damage—"so let me know as soon as you get an ETA. I can extend the rentals if I have to."

"Yes, Coach," Nicky said quickly.

"You good here for a minute?" Wymack asked, scanning their faces. When they nodded, he strode off in search of the rest of his team.

There wasn’t much to do after that except wait. The cops were still working through their statements, moving from player to player, while the tow trucks continued their slow, methodical work. The morning sun climbed higher, baking the lingering stench of raw meat, eggs, and compost into the pavement.

Even as cars were taken away, the destruction felt permanent. Broken glass glittered in the cracks of the lot, the deep scratches and gouges on the asphalt marking where tires had been slashed. The words "TRAITOR" still stood out in violent red against Andrew’s destroyed car.

By the time Wymack returned, the upperclassmen weren’t far behind him. Dan and Matt still looked frustrated, but exhaustion was starting to win out over their anger.

"Andrew and I are going to pick up some lunch for everyone," Wymack announced. "Any preferences?"

No one was particularly hungry, not after spending the morning surrounded by rotting food and garbage, but free food was free food. They took an unenthusiastic vote, and Andrew followed Wymack to his car without argument.

The Foxes stood in awkward silence as they watched them leave, the weight of the morning settling heavily on their shoulders.

Neil finally broke the silence. "As I said, I’m sorry," he began, his voice even and unwavering, "but I don’t regret what I said."

They were all staring at him now, their expressions ranging from frustration to exhaustion to quiet curiosity. He let the words sink in for a moment before continuing. "And don’t worry. I’ll find out who did this. And they’ll pay."

Dan raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Neil smirked, the sharp, knowing expression that always managed to get under people’s skin. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Seth scowled. "Yes, we would."

But Neil was already gone.

The rooftop was quiet, a rare pocket of stillness above the chaos of the morning. From up here, the world felt detached—the shouting, the wreckage, the anger—all of it just a dull hum beneath him. The crisp air carried the scent of asphalt and distant pine, but it wasn’t enough to fully mask the lingering stench of rotten meat and compost that clung to his clothes, a reminder of what had happened only hours ago.

Neil leaned against the ledge, the cool concrete pressing against his back as he exhaled a slow breath. He lit his cigarette with steady fingers, watching the orange glow flicker to life before he brought it to his lips. The familiar burn filled his lungs, grounding him for just a moment before he pulled out his phone and dialed.

Stuart picked up on the second ring.

"Since my car is destroyed," Neil said without preamble, watching the smoke curl into the sky, "I’ll need a new one. Any chance you already have one bought that’s, I don’t know, an hour or two away from here?"

There was a beat of silence before Stuart let out a quiet sigh.

"Yeah, I thought so," Neil muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair. Stuart always had a contingency plan, always made sure Neil had options. But this time, it wouldn’t help him. The nearest car Stuart had ready was two states away, which wasn’t exactly ideal. Neil didn’t have the time to leave campus and track it down, not when he had other things to take care of.

"Then I’ll have to buy another one," he continued, flicking ash off the side of the roof and watching as the wind carried it away. The mess downstairs had cost him his car, his morning, and any remaining patience he had left. He wasn’t about to let it cost him any more time.

There was a longer pause this time, followed by Stuart’s voice, drier than before. "You have your card?"

"Yes, I have my card," Neil said, rolling his eyes.

"And you know what car to buy so you don’t embarrass the Hatford name?" Stuart asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Neil smirked around the cigarette, taking another slow drag before exhaling. "Uncle. Please."

Stuart chuckled, low and knowing. "Sure," he said. "I figured you’d want something fast, something subtle."

"I’ll go tomorrow at the latest to buy one," Neil murmured, already running through his options in his head. He needed something sleek, practical, but not too flashy. Something that wouldn’t immediately scream money but still had enough bite to match him.

"If that’s all, I have to hang up," Stuart said, the amusement in his voice fading into something softer. "Love you, kiddo. And stay careful."

Neil let out a slow breath, the weight of the morning settling on his shoulders. He should have been used to this kind of thing by now, the constant retaliation, the never-ending cycle of cause and effect. But this time felt different. The Ravens' fans had gone after Andrew, and that was a mistake Neil wasn’t going to let slide.

"I always am," Neil said, voice quieter now. Then, after a beat, "I love you too. And tell me if you find who did this."

There was a pause, then a quiet hum of acknowledgment. "I will," Stuart said, then the call ended.

Neil exhaled one last time, taking a final drag before flicking the cigarette off the rooftop, watching as it tumbled down into the shadows below.

Neil stayed on the rooftop for at least an hour.

He knew he should go back inside, maybe go for a run to clear his head, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He felt drained, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, but his mind refused to stop racing. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the wreckage in the parking lot, the shattered glass, the word “TRAITOR” scrawled in violent red across Andrew’s car. His stomach twisted at the memory, not with regret—because he would do it all again in a heartbeat—but with the uncomfortable weight of guilt.

The team had been collateral damage in a fight that wasn’t theirs, and Neil hated that they had to suffer because of him. He hadn’t expected the Ravens’ fans to go this far, and in hindsight, maybe that had been naive. He should have known better.

He reached for another cigarette, lighting it with slow, practiced ease. The ashtray Andrew had left up here was already full, but Neil didn’t care. He let the burn settle in his lungs, trying to chase his thoughts away with every exhale.

It wasn’t working.

His gaze flicked to the half-empty bottle of vodka they had left behind the last time they were up here. He considered ignoring it, but in the end, he reached for it anyway, taking a slow pull and letting the warmth spread through him.

Guilt tasted better with nicotine and alcohol.

Neil leaned his elbows against his knees, staring out over the rooftops. He needed to make this right. Not because he felt obligated, but because he wanted to. The team had backed him up through worse, had stood by him even when they had every reason not to.

He needed to apologize properly.

His mind ran through the possibilities before landing on a decision. He would pay for the repairs for everyone’s cars. If they needed replacements, he would handle that too.

It wasn’t about money. It was about principle.

Then his thoughts shifted to Andrew’s car.

There was no way they would be able to fix it. The Ravens’ fans had made sure of that. Neil knew it the second he saw the damage—it wasn’t salvageable.

Neither was his Jaguar.

The insurance money would help, sure, but it wasn’t enough.

Neil flicked ash off the edge of the rooftop, his mind already working through the next step.

If Andrew’s car was a lost cause, then he would just get him a new one.

Stuart was already planning on doing so for Andrew’s next birthday. He had mentioned it offhandedly once, something about how Andrew needed a car that wasn’t a "goddamn safety hazard."  Even thou his car was almost as expensive as Allisons.

Neil took another drag, his lips twitching slightly. You didn’t hear it from him, but Stuart actually liked Andrew.

Their first meeting had been less than ideal, but somewhere along the way, Stuart had gone from barely tolerating him to actively looking out for him. If Neil didn’t know better, he would say Stuart liked Andrew more than he liked Neil.

Neil huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. At least that would make things easier.

Neil made his way back downstairs, moving on autopilot. The rooftop had given him time to think, but it hadn’t made him feel any better. The weight of everything still sat heavy on his shoulders, pressing in at the edges of his thoughts. No amount of cigarettes or alcohol had been enough to shake the tight coil of frustration and guilt in his chest.

When he reached the common room, he found Dan, Matt, Allison, Seth, and Renee sitting together. Their postures were tense, their expressions serious, and judging by the hushed voices and furrowed brows, they were deep in a conversation that wasn’t meant for him.

Neil didn’t care.

Without hesitation, he stepped into the room and interrupted.

"I thought about how I can properly apologize to you guys for the car wreck," he said, cutting straight to the point. Their conversation screeched to a halt, all eyes snapping to him. He didn’t let himself hesitate before continuing.

"I’ve decided to pay for your repairs."

Silence.

Then, all at once—

"You what?" Matt asked, blinking like he’d misheard.

"You don’t have to do that," Dan said, frowning.

"Wait, for real?" Seth asked, voice dripping with skepticism.

Allison leaned forward, arms crossed as she studied him with narrowed eyes, like she was trying to decide whether he was screwing with them. Even Renee, usually unreadable, looked mildly surprised.

Neil crossed his arms. "I do. And I will."

He wasn’t asking for permission.

Dan exhaled, shaking her head. "Neil, it’s not your responsibility. This wasn’t your fault."

"Yes, it was," Neil countered without hesitation. "They wouldn’t have done this if I had kept my mouth shut."

"You shouldn’t have to keep your mouth shut," Allison said sharply. "They trashed our cars because they’re entitled assholes, not because you did something wrong."

"Doesn’t change the fact that it happened," Neil said. "And I can fix it."

Dan exchanged a glance with Matt, both of them clearly unsure whether to argue or let him have this.

"Look," Neil continued, his voice steady. "I have the money. It’s not a big deal. I can cover the repairs for everyone, and if anyone needs a replacement, I’ll handle that too."

"You’re serious," Seth said, still skeptical.

Neil gave him a flat look.

"Obviously," he said.

Another pause, tense but thoughtful.

Then Allison let out a slow sigh and leaned back against the couch, flicking a hand in his direction. "Fine. If you want to be our sugar daddy, who am I to stop you?"

Matt groaned. "Please don’t phrase it like that."

"Too late," Allison said, smirking.

Dan still looked like she wanted to protest, but in the end, she just shook her head. "You’re impossible," she muttered, but there was no real bite behind the words.

"Yeah," Neil said simply. "I know."

And that was the end of it.

Eventually, they agreed to Neil’s offer. Some gave in reluctantly, some with exasperation, but in the end, no one tried to stop him. Whether they thought it was unnecessary or not, Neil didn’t care. He was going to fix this. Paying for the repairs wouldn’t undo what had happened, but it was something tangible—something he could control.

Just as he was about to head upstairs for a shower, Matt called after him.

"There’s food on the table. Coach came back about ten minutes ago. You should eat."

Neil shook his head. If Wymack was back, then Andrew was back, too. That was more important than whatever meal was waiting for him. His stomach was a hollow pit, but hunger was a distant, unimportant thing.

Without another word, he went straight to his room. He grabbed fresh clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped under the scorching spray. The hot water burned against his skin, chasing away the stale scent of cigarettes, sweat, and the lingering stench of the parking lot disaster. He scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing his fingers into his temple as if that would help clear his mind. It didn’t.

He didn’t linger. Just enough time to wash the day off him, dry off, and pull on fresh clothes before heading back out again.

He needed to find Andrew.

The dorm hallways were quieter now, the earlier chaos settling into exhaustion. As Neil passed through, he spotted Nicky slouched against the wall, phone in hand. He barely slowed as he asked, "Have you seen Andrew?"

Nicky lifted his head, giving Neil an assessing look before shrugging. "Took a bottle and left again. Don’t know where he went."

Neil’s frown deepened. There weren’t many places Andrew could go, especially with an open bottle of liquor and no car.

"With Coach?" Neil asked, hoping Wymack had convinced him to stay.

"Don’t think so," Nicky said. His usual easy-going nature was absent, replaced with something heavier, something quieter.

Neil sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Of course.

"Thanks," he muttered, already turning away.

He didn’t need to think about it.

There was only one place Andrew would go.

Without hesitation, Neil took the stairs two at a time and made his way back up to the rooftop again.

Andrew was sitting at the back end of the rooftop, one knee propped up, the nearly half-empty vodka bottle resting against it. From a distance, it looked drained, but as Neil moved closer, he caught the glint of sunlight flashing off the liquid.

Neil forced down the instinctive thump of his heart as he watched Andrew sit so close to the edge, unnervingly casual about the five-story drop beneath him. Instead of saying anything, he helped himself to the spot next to Andrew and let his gaze drift to the scene below.

The parking lot was still a wreck, though it was starting to resemble something normal again. A cleanup crew had already started scrubbing the asphalt, trying to erase the mess left behind. The police were gone now, replaced by a single campus security team loitering nearby, and even the press had vanished.

For the first time since morning, the campus felt almost peaceful.

Andrew flicked his pack of cigarettes at Neil.

"Give me one good reason not to push you off the side."

Neil caught the pack effortlessly, shook out a cigarette, and lit it without missing a beat. "I'd drag you with me. It’s a long way down."

Andrew took a slow drag from his own cigarette before exhaling through his nose. "I hate you."

It was hard to believe him when he sounded so bored by the concept.

He took another swig from the vodka bottle, wiped his mouth clean with his thumb, then passed it to Neil without a word. Neil accepted it, tilting the bottle back and letting the burn warm his throat.

As Neil lowered it, Andrew spoke again, voice mild and conversational.

"Ninety-nine percent of the time, the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way."

Neil swallowed down his amusement. "What about the other one percent?"

Andrew didn’t answer.

His silence should have felt dismissive, but there was something calm in his expression, something settled in the way he watched Neil. There was no hostility behind his words, no irritation. Just a quiet, steady presence that felt closer to fondness than anything else.

"I’ve had enough of your stupidity to last me a week," Andrew said. "Go back inside and bother the others now."

Neil feigned confusion as he pushed himself to his feet. "Am I bothering you?"

"Beyond the telling."

"Interesting," Neil mused, smirking slightly. "Yesterday, you were saying other things."

Andrew shot him a glare. "Don’t you have anything else to do?"

Neil tilted his head. "Like what?"

Andrew exhaled sharply, flicking ash off the side of the roof. "Calling Stuart to get you a new car. At least one of us has to have a car."

"I already did," Neil said.

Andrew didn’t look surprised, just nodded slightly. Neil then asked

 "What did the insurance company say about your car?"

Neil waited for the answer, but Andrew didn’t speak right away. Instead, he let out a slow breath before finally admitting, "They won’t cover it. I have to pay for the repair myself. It’s better to get a new car than waste money trying to fix that wreck anyway."

Neil reached for his hand without thinking, threading their fingers together as he said, "You don’t have to worry about anything. In fact, we’re going to get our new cars tomorrow afternoon. You in?"

Andrew looked at him, confused. "Ours?"

"Yeah," Neil said, watching him closely. "Yours and mine."

Andrew narrowed his eyes slightly. "I don’t have the money for a new car."

Neil smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette before exhaling through his nose. "Good thing you aren’t paying then."

Andrew’s gaze sharpened. "Stuart knows about this?"

Neil shrugged. "It’s not like he’ll notice if a million or two disappears. But yes, he knows."

Andrew leaned back slightly, studying him. "I don’t need your charity."

"It’s not charity," Neil countered easily. "It’s your early present for when we beat the Ravens in the championship."

Andrew scoffed, flicking his cigarette over the edge of the roof. "Quite the confidence. What if we lose?"

Neil didn’t hesitate. "Then it’s a cheer-up gift." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "But we won’t lose."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes. Because I’ll need a cheer-up present."

Neil smirked, leaning in just slightly. "Can’t I just spoil my future husband a little bit?"

Andrew froze.

His breath caught somewhere between shock and something heavier, something deeper.

They had talked about the future before, but only in increments—one year, maybe two, no further than that. Andrew had never let himself think beyond that. Because forever wasn’t a guarantee.

Nothing had ever been permanent in his life.

Nothing had ever been his to keep.

He had spent his whole life wanting nothing. That was easier. Wanting led to disappointment. Wanting led to weakness. He had taught himself to survive without attachments, without ties, without needing anyone or anything. It had been his greatest skill.

Until Neil.

Until Neil had shattered every rule Andrew had ever lived by.

Andrew had never loved anything before Neil.

Not his parents. Not his foster families. Not even Aaron, his own twin, bound to him by blood but nothing else.

But Neil—Neil was different.

Neil, who was impossible and reckless and stubborn beyond reason. Neil, who challenged him, who saw him for exactly what he was and never tried to change him. Neil, who never pushed past his limits, never demanded more than Andrew was willing to give.

Neil, who was the only person who had ever respected his boundaries and stayed.

If soulmates existed, Neil would be his.

Andrew had never believed in that kind of thing.

But the way his chest tightened at the words "future husband"—like something fragile and untouchable had been placed in his hands—made him wonder.

His fingers twitched again, but this time, it wasn’t to pull away.

It was because he wanted to hold on.

The realization sat like a weight in his chest, pressing against his ribs, heavy and warm and undeniable.

Because Neil was the only thing in his life that was real.

With Neil, he wasn’t just someone’s mistake, someone’s problem, someone’s obligation. He wasn’t a fighter, wasn’t a monster, wasn’t a burden. He was just Andrew.

And that was enough.

He lifted his free hand and took Neil’s face between his palms, tracing the sharp edges of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. He could feel the faintest tremor in Neil’s pulse, could see the flicker of something uncertain but sure in his eyes.

Andrew didn’t believe in forever.

But he believed in this.

He believed in Neil.

"Yes or no?" he asked, voice quiet but steady.

Neil swallowed, his throat bobbing, his fingers squeezing Andrew’s just slightly.

"Yes," he breathed.

And then Andrew kissed him.

By the time Neil and Andrew finally made their way back inside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the hallways. The air had cooled, but the warmth from the hours spent on the rooftop, drinking and existing in each other’s space, still lingered on Neil’s skin.

Between the time they’d been gone, two entire bottles of vodka had disappeared.

Neil was a bit too tipsy, his movements just a fraction slower, his mind pleasantly hazy. It wasn’t enough to make him stumble or slur, but enough that everything felt a little easier, a little softer.

Andrew, of course, looked completely unaffected.

Neil didn’t know if it was because he really hadn’t had as much as Neil thought or if he was just that good at pretending.

Probably both.

As they walked down the hall toward Neil’s dorm, Neil checked his phone. Matt had texted him while they were still outside. He and Seth were with the girls until later in the evening.

Neil pushed open his door, stepping inside with Andrew behind him. The moment the door clicked shut, Neil’s tipsy brain decided it was the perfect time to change.

Right there.

With Andrew in the room.

He pulled his hoodie off over his head, tossing it carelessly toward the desk chair. The fabric barely hit the seat before he was reaching for the hem of his shirt, intent on stripping it off as well.

Andrew, still leaning against the door, arched an eyebrow.

"You’re making a decision," he observed, tone flat.

Neil smirked, half-dazed, half-self-satisfied. "Observant as always."

Andrew tilted his head slightly, watching him with mild interest. "And that decision is…?"

Neil didn’t answer. He just pulled his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor.

Andrew let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face like he was reconsidering all of his life choices.

"You’re drunk," Andrew pointed out, voice bored, but watching.

Neil hummed as he kicked off his shoes, his smirk widening slightly. "Not really."

Andrew didn’t look convinced. His stare was flat, unimpressed. "Not really means yes."

Neil rolled his eyes, stepping toward his dresser. "Tipsy, at worst."

Andrew didn’t move from his spot against the door, but his gaze dragged over Neil, taking in the shift of his muscles beneath his skin, the curve of his spine, the way the light cast sharp shadows over his collarbones.

Neil was always moving, always running, always restless. But now—in this moment—he was just standing there, unguarded, open, relaxed.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just that Neil was his, but Andrew was feeling reckless.

So before Neil could grab another shirt, Andrew pushed off the door, crossed the space between them, and slid his arms around Neil’s waist from behind.

Neil froze, but not from discomfort.

Andrew didn’t give him time to react. He just pressed closer, his chest flush against Neil’s bare back, his fingers splaying low on his stomach. His breath was warm against the shell of Neil’s ear, his lips barely grazing the skin as he murmured, "You’re a problem."

Neil’s breath hitched.

And then Andrew tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips to the side of Neil’s neck.

Neil’s fingers tightened around the edge of the dresser, his pulse spiking, his entire body hyper-aware of the way Andrew’s hands fit against his skin.

"You’re drunk," Andrew reminded him again, voice low, half against Neil’s throat. But he didn’t pull away.

Neil swallowed hard, tilting his head slightly to give Andrew more room.

"Still here, though," Neil murmured, voice quieter than before.

Andrew hummed, pressing one more slow kiss just below Neil’s jaw before finally stepping back.

Neil exhaled sharply, almost disappointed at the loss of warmth.

Andrew walked past him, grabbing the nearest hoodie from the bed and throwing it at Neil’s face.

Neil barely caught it in time.

"Put on clothes before you make worse decisions," Andrew muttered, tone back to neutral indifference.

Neil laughed, muffled by fabric, before pulling the hoodie over his head. "You like it when I make bad decisions”

Andrew, already stretching out on Neil’s bed, glared at him”101%”

Neil smiled amused ”That’s not how precents works.”

Chapter Text

Morning came with more bad news. Wymack’s call woke them far earlier than necessary, his voice sharp with frustration. Neil barely had the chance to register the time before Wymack delivered his message, his words clipped and irritated.

The campus had been defaced.

Black paint covered the buildings and sidewalks in thick, careless sloshes, a stark contrast against the clean surfaces that had been there the day before. The pond had been stained bright red, its water churning slightly from whatever dye had been dumped into it overnight. The worst of it, however, was the Foxhole Court itself. Graffiti was scrawled across its white outer walls in bold, taunting letters, an intentional violation of everything the team had fought for.

Wymack made it clear that he didn’t want the team coming to see it, but at the same time, he refused to let them hear about it secondhand. The damage was already being dealt with; the facilities department was working tirelessly to scrub the walls clean, drain the pond, and erase the evidence as quickly as possible. Still, Wymack was furious. Campus security had failed them again, and this time, he was determined to make someone pay for it.

By the time the team dragged themselves out of bed, the media had already caught wind of the vandalism, and the press was back in full force.

This time, one of them managed to get close enough to shove a microphone in Wymack’s face.

Neil had expected Wymack to lash out at the Ravens directly, but he wasn’t that careless. Instead, he turned his fury on the true culprits—the fans.

"I think it’s pathetic," Wymack said, his voice biting and unforgiving. "What good do these cowards think they’re accomplishing by lashing out at us like this? All they’re doing is bringing negative attention and publicity to the team they’re trying to defend. It’s past time the Ravens spoke out."

His statement did exactly what it was meant to do.

Within the hour, Edgar Allan’s president, Louis Andritch, responded, issuing an obligatory appeal for Raven fans to stop their ‘unruly’ behavior. It was a weak statement, nothing more than empty words to save face.

Then came Tetsuji Moriyama’s response.

His statement was harsher—pointed, calculated—but not in support of the Foxes.

"You cannot house train a dog by beating it a day late; it is not smart enough to correlate action and punishment. You have to discipline it the moment it misbehaves. Leave it to us to correct them on the court."

Dan was seething for the rest of the day, the tension in her shoulders never fading, her fingers curling into tight, frustrated fists every time she thought about it. She had never been the type to let things go, especially when they were deliberately cruel.

Neil was angry too, but he was trying to focus on what he could control.

By lunchtime, Stuart called him.

"The people responsible for the car wreck were found and arrested."

Neil listened, fingers tightening around his phone. He should have felt satisfied, should have felt some sense of justice, but instead, he felt nothing but frustration.

Arrest wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted them dead.

But he forced himself to think rationally. He couldn’t kill them himself. He didn’t want to cause more work for Stuart.

Besides, they were young. The oldest was only twenty-four, a group of stupid, angry kids trying to prove something. They weren’t monsters, not in the way Neil had grown up knowing monsters.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t ruin them.

Neil hung up with Stuart and immediately called Alec.

Alec, who knew where to dig for secrets.

Alec, who knew exactly how to spread them.

Alec, who could turn someone’s life into a burning wreckage with just a few whispers.

The phone barely rang twice before Alec answered.

"I need a favor," Neil said, voice steady, sharp.

"I’m listening," Alec replied, always curious, always amused.

"I need you to find out the worst secret of the people involved in the car wreck," Neil continued. "And make sure it gets to the right people."

There was a brief pause, then a slow, knowing hum.

"Oh, you’re in a mood today, Hatford."

"You are refusing?" Neil asked dryly.

Alec chuckled, dark amusement lacing his words. "No. Consider it done. Just send me the names of the people involved."

Neil didn’t bother thanking him. He didn’t have to. Alec already knew.

And just like that, their fate was sealed.

Because you don’t fuck with a Hatford.

After his call with Alec, Neil headed back to his dorm, finally acknowledging the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He had barely eaten the day before, and now that the anger had settled into something quieter, something patient, his body was making its needs known.

When he stepped inside, Seth and Matt were already there, lounging on Matt’s bed, deep in conversation. The moment Seth caught sight of Neil, he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, pointing at him with an accusatory glare.

"What the fuck did you do now?"

Neil blinked, feigning innocence as he kicked the door shut behind him. "What do you mean? I haven’t done anything."

Seth scoffed, unimpressed. "Don’t act innocent. You have that stupid smile on your face—the one you always get when you’ve just ruined someone’s life. Spill it.”

Neil tilted his head slightly, smirk teasing at the edges of his mouth. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Matt—Neil’s self-appointed protector since day one, ever loyal, ever oblivious—chimed in immediately. "Come on, man. This is Neil, not some kind of demon."

Seth turned to Neil, expression deadpan. "You know, I would say you are Satan, but calling you that is an insult to Satan himself."

Neil huffed a quiet laugh, but Matt—bless his soul—looked deeply offended.

"And you," Seth continued, jabbing a finger at Matt, "are far too oblivious to know what I mean."

Matt gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been personally betrayed. "Excuse you, I am not oblivious!"

Neil, entirely unbothered by their bickering, wandered toward the mini-fridge and peeked inside. "Is there anything for lunch?" he asked, casually ignoring Seth’s still-suspicious glare. "I’m kind of hungry."

Matt’s entire demeanor changed in an instant.

His offense at Seth’s insult disappeared, and instead, he beamed like Neil was his actual child.

"Do you want me to make you something?" Matt asked, already getting up, like this was the most important thing in the world.

Neil barely held back a smile. Matt was ridiculous. But he was also impossible to say no to.

After Neil finished eating, he leaned back in his chair and pulled out his phone. Without overthinking it, he typed out a quick message to Andrew.

Neil: Be ready in 30 minutes. We’re going to buy our cars.

Andrew didn’t reply, but the read receipt popped up almost immediately. Neil smirked. That was as much of an answer as he was going to get.

Satisfied, he got up and grabbed a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a white hoodie. He pulled them on quickly, then checked his pockets, making sure he had everything—wallet, phone, cigarettes, dorm key. Once he was ready, he ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to fix the mess of curls before heading out.

By the time he reached Andrew’s dorm, Andrew was already outside, waiting.

He stood with his back against the wall, twirling the rental car keys between his fingers, posture relaxed but alert. His eyes flicked toward Neil as he approached, sharp and assessing, but he didn’t say anything.

Neil stopped in front of him, lips quirking into a small smirk. "Didn’t even have to drag you out. Impressive."

Andrew arched an unimpressed brow but didn’t comment. Instead, he flipped the keys up in the air and caught them in a smooth motion before pushing off the wall. Without another word, he headed toward the car.

Neil followed, watching the way Andrew’s shoulders moved beneath his hoodie, the effortless control in his steps. It wasn’t fair that he could look so effortlessly good doing literally nothing.

They slid into the rental, and Andrew started the engine without ceremony.

Neil pulled out his phone again, dialing before Andrew even pulled out of the lot.

Wymack picked up after two rings, voice gruff, like he was already having a long day.

"What?"

Neil grinned, undeterred. "Just a heads-up, Coach. Andrew and I are going shopping for cars. Figured I should tell you before someone assumes we’re running away."

There was a long pause, then a heavy sigh.

"You’re spending an ungodly amount of money a little after noon. That’s either impressive or irresponsible."

"Probably both." Neil admitted.

Andrew hummed in agreement, eyes on the road.

Wymack muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "rich little shit." but in the end, all he said was, "Don’t crash the rental."

"No promises," Neil said, smirking as he hung up.

Andrew shot him a sideways glance but didn’t bother responding. Instead, he pressed harder on the gas, sending them speeding toward the nearest car dealership.

The drive to the dealership was fast but smooth, Andrew taking the curves and intersections with practiced ease. Neither of them spoke much, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was.

When they pulled into the lot, the place was exactly what Neil expected— sleek, modern, and lined with only the best and most expensive cars. The dealership’s massive glass windows reflected the afternoon sun, making the polished cars parked outside gleam like trophies.

Andrew parked the rental with zero regard for perfect alignment, flicked the keys onto the dashboard, and climbed out without a word. Neil followed, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket as they stepped toward the entrance.

A salesman, a man in his mid-thirties with a too-white smile and an even whiter button-up, approached the moment they walked in. He looked them up and down—assessing, calculating.

He had probably seen a hundred college kids wander in to gawk at cars they could never afford.

But Neil wasn’t here to look.

"Welcome!" The man’s voice was warm and polished with professionalism. "What can I help you gentlemen with today?"

Neil didn’t hesitate.

"Show us your best models."

The salesman perked up instantly. That was all he needed to hear. His smile widened—real now, because commission was commission—and he gestured toward the showroom with an eager nod. "Right this way."

He led them past sleek displays and polished surfaces, talking about luxury brands and performance specs with the kind of well-rehearsed ease that only came from years in the business. He stopped in front of a row of high-end sports cars, each one gleaming under the artificial lights.

Neil barely listened as the salesman went on about engine performance, horsepower, and top speeds. He already knew what he wanted—he just had to find it.

And then he did.

Sitting under the bright showroom lights, sleek and perfect, was a white Ferrari Purosangue. It wasn’t just fast—it was sharp, controlled, deliberate. A car that didn’t just dominate the road but owned it. Neil stepped closer, running his fingers along the smooth, flawless exterior, appreciating the precision in every detail.

The salesman, sensing an easy sale, beamed. "Excellent taste. The Purosangue is Ferrari’s first four-door, all-wheel-drive performance SUV. It’s got a V12 engine, 715 horsepower, and can go from 0 to 60 in just over three seconds—"

"I’ll take it." Neil said, cutting him off.

The salesman blinked, caught off guard by how quickly Neil had made his decision. "Would you like to go over financing—"

"No need," Neil said, already reaching for his wallet. "Upfront."

If the salesman had been happy before, now he was practically glowing.

As Neil finalized the purchase, his attention shifted. Across the showroom, Andrew stood with his hands in his pockets, posture uninterested, unimpressed. But Neil had seen the way his eyes had lingered—not on Neil’s Ferrari, but on something else entirely.

A black Maserati Levante Trofeo sat a few feet away, sleek and understated, built for power and precision rather than flash. Andrew’s gaze wasn’t lingering out of curiosity. He wanted it.

Neil knew Andrew well enough to recognize the rare moments of interest. Andrew wasn’t someone who cared much for material things, wasn’t the type to desire something just for the sake of having it. If he wanted something, it was because it mattered.

And Andrew wanted that car.

Neil didn’t hesitate.

"I’ll take the Maserati, too," he told the salesman, nodding toward the car.

Andrew, who had been watching the process with vague disinterest until that moment, turned his head sharply, his expression unreadable.

The salesman, however, looked like he had just won the lottery. "Absolutely! That’s an excellent—"

"Upfront." Neil added before the man could finish.

The salesman nodded so fast it was a wonder his head didn’t snap off, practically tripping over himself to process the paperwork.

Andrew let out a slow, measured exhale before dragging a hand down his face. "I don’t need your charity, Hatford."

"I told you it’s not charity," Neil said, smirking as he leaned against the hood of his Ferrari. "It’s your early present for when we beat the Ravens in the championship, remember?"

Andrew gave him a long, unimpressed stare. "You really think we’re going to win?"

Neil shrugged, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Obviously."

Andrew flicked his gaze back to the Maserati, eyes narrowing slightly, calculating. Neil could tell he was weighing the argument, deciding whether or not it was worth fighting over. But Neil already knew the answer.

After a beat, Andrew clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes before grabbing the Maserati’s keys off the counter.

Neil grinned. Yeah. That’s what he thought.

Everything was set. The paperwork was signed, the keys were handed over, and now Neil and Andrew were standing outside the dealership, getting ready to leave.

Andrew stood next to his new Maserati, cigarette between his fingers, exhaling smoke into the cool afternoon air. Neil, meanwhile, leaned against the Ferrari’s hood, phone pressed to his ear as he arranged for the rental car to be picked up. The call was quick—just the essentials. Location, car model, pickup time. Nothing more.

When he hung up, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stepped over to Andrew and, without asking, plucked the cigarette straight from his fingers.

Andrew didn’t react. He just watched as Neil took a slow drag, the smoke curling between his lips before escaping into the air. Without a word, Andrew pulled out his pack and lit another one.

They smoked in silence.

It wasn’t uncomfortable—it never was. The quiet between them was as familiar as the spaces they occupied, as natural as the way Andrew’s shoulder almost brushed Neil’s when they stood close, neither of them feeling the need to move away.

Then Andrew spoke, breaking the silence with a question Neil wasn’t expecting.

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Neil stilled, cigarette halfway to his lips. He didn’t know what to say.

Birthdays had never been happy days for him. They had always been marked by fear, by silence, by the knowledge that another year had passed with no certainty of the next.

The day had only started to matter two years ago, when he began living with Stuart and Emma. It was the first time in his life someone had acknowledged it as something worth celebrating. Stuart had taken him out for dinner, Emma had baked a cake that Neil hadn’t known how to accept, and for a brief moment, he had thought—maybe. Maybe this could be something good.

And then Henry happened.

Or rather, ended.

Everything had been messy after that. His relationship with Henry had unraveled, leaving behind nothing but sharp edges and unsaid words. The idea of celebrating something as personal as his birthday had felt pointless. Hollow.

Neil took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling through his nose. "I don’t know," he admitted finally.

Andrew didn’t say anything, but Neil could feel him waiting. Watching.

Neil could lie. He could say he didn’t want anything, could brush the question off like it didn’t matter. But it did. Or at least, Andrew wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t.

So instead of answering, Neil let the smoke curl between his fingers, eyes drifting toward the horizon, and waited for Andrew to decide if he wanted to push further.

They finished their cigarettes in silence, the smoke curling into the cool evening air before disappearing completely. Neither of them spoke again—there was nothing else to say, and they both preferred it that way. When the last embers burned out, Andrew flicked his cigarette away, crushing it under his heel before heading to his Maserati.

Neil followed suit, slipping into his Ferrari and feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction as his hands settled on the wheel. The car felt effortless, powerful, controlled—a perfect extension of himself.

They pulled out of the dealership and onto the road, Andrew taking the lead while Neil followed. The drive back was smooth, quick, uncomplicated, just like everything else between them. The sky had darkened by the time they reached Palmetto, the campus mostly quiet, the walkways empty.

Perfect.

No one was around to see their new cars, which meant Neil wouldn’t have to deal with questions, reactions, or Seth’s inevitable commentary about how Neil was an actual Bond villain.

They parked in the lot without fanfare, both of them stepping out without acknowledgment before heading toward the dorms. They didn’t bother saying goodbye—they never did.

Neil walked into his dorm to find Matt already inside.

Matt, who had clearly been waiting for him, looked up the moment Neil entered. His eyes flicked over him, taking in the hoodie, the keys in his hand, the slightly windblown hair. Then, with zero hesitation, he asked, "Where the hell were you?"

Neil, without missing a beat, tossed his keys onto his desk and shrugged. "Buying a car."

Matt stared at him for a long moment, then let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Of course you were."

Chapter Text

Neil woke up at 4:30 a.m., staring at the ceiling, already knowing he wasn’t going to get any more sleep. The room was dark, silent except for the faint hum of the heater, but Neil felt restless, suffocated. His body was still, but his mind was already awake, spinning too fast, too sharp.

Then he remembered the date.

January 19th.

His birthday.

The realization settled in his chest like a dull ache, familiar and unwelcome.

Birthdays were supposed to be happy occasions, filled with celebration, laughter, the warmth of people who cared. But for him, birthdays had never been that. They had been nothing more than a countdown, a cruel reminder that he had survived another year—one he wasn’t supposed to make it to, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to make it to.

He had spent most of his life hating this day.

For years, it had come and gone without acknowledgment. There had been no candles, no gifts, no laughter—just another day to endure. Another day spent in the cold shadow of his mother’s paranoia, of running, of hiding, of waiting for everything to fall apart.

And then there was his seventeenth birthday.

The only one he had ever truly liked.

Emma and Stuart had made it matter. Stuart had taken him out for dinner, talking to him like he belonged somewhere, like he was someone worth celebrating. Emma had baked him a cake, something small and simple, and he had sat at the kitchen counter while she set a single candle in it and smiled at him like he was someone worth making wishes for.

He hadn’t known what to do with that kindness. Hadn’t trusted it.

But for the first time in his life, his birthday had meant something.

Then came his eighteenth.

Neil lay still in the dark, but his pulse wasn’t steady anymore. His throat felt tight, his hands curled into the blanket as if holding on to something solid could keep the memories at bay.

He had been so stupid.

So reckless, so desperate to find love outside of his family. He had let himself believe—just for a moment—that maybe he could have something good.

That Henry could be something good.

That had been his first mistake.

The second had been trusting him.

Neil had never wanted much from life, had never let himself hope for things beyond survival. But he had wanted Henry.

And for a little while, he had thought Henry wanted him too.

Then it was ripped away, and it shattered him.

He had never known how much a person could break until then. He had spent his entire life learning how to take pain, how to endure, how to survive. He had thought he was stronger than that.

But that day—that day, he hadn’t wanted to survive.

No more running. No more fear. No more hope, only for it to be ripped away and turned into a weapon against him.

And maybe, for the first time in his life, he would have been free.

Neil squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands against them as if that could push the memories back into the past where they belonged.

He wasn’t that person anymore.

He wasn’t seventeen and hopeful, thinking the world could be something better.

He wasn’t nearly eighteen and broken, so desperate to disappear that he nearly made it happen.

But that didn’t mean January 19th was any easier to face.

A small part of Neil wanted today to be special. He didn’t know why—maybe because, despite everything, there was still a lingering piece of him that hoped birthdays could be more than just a reminder of what he lost.

He rubbed his thumb over the date on his phone, staring at January 19th glowing softly against the dark screen. He let himself make one quiet, fleeting wish—that they’d win against Belmonte.

That was all he would allow himself to want.

The rest of the day blurred. He knew he went to his classes—he was there, physically, he took notes, he wrote down everything the professors said. But none of it stuck. The words might as well have been static in the background, a language he wasn’t meant to understand. By the time class was over, he shoved his notes carelessly into the bottom of his bag, knowing he wouldn’t bother looking at them again.

Lunch was just as forgettable. A flavorless meal eaten alone at the athletes’ dining hall, surrounded by noise but untouched by it. The conversations around him blurred into a dull hum, unimportant, distant.

No one knew what today was. And that was good. He wanted it that way. The only person who knew was Andrew.

The Foxes didn’t have afternoon practice before home games, so Neil had too much time to kill. He went back to Fox Tower, deciding that a long, hot shower would be enough to clear his head.

He let the water run hotter than usual, standing under the spray until the steam filled the small bathroom, clouding the mirror and wrapping around him like a second skin. His thoughts wandered, tangled, pulled him under.

By the time he finally stepped out, towel slung low around his hips, his mind felt clearer—but only for a second.

Because Andrew was in his dorm.

Neil wasn’t surprised by that. Andrew let himself in whenever he wanted, and Neil never questioned it. What did surprise him, though, was what Andrew was wearing.

A tight black shirt, the kind that fit perfectly around his arms and chest, making him look even bigger than usual, broader, unfairly attractive.

Neil froze. His brain short-circuited.

Andrew looked hot. Really hot.

And suddenly, Neil’s entire face was burning.

Andrew, still lounging on Neil’s bed, dragged his gaze up and down Neil’s towel-clad form, eyes slow, deliberate, sharp.

Neil’s face burned hotter.

Andrew stood, crossing the space between them with calm, measured steps. Before Neil could react, Andrew’s arm slid around his waist, firm and warm, pulling him just close enough to steal the air from his lungs.

His other hand tangled in Neil’s damp curls, fingers threading through the still-wet strands with a lazy sort of possession.

Then Andrew leaned in, breath warm against Neil’s ear, and whispered, "Happy birthday."

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a grand gesture, wasn’t loud or elaborate. But it was Andrew remembering. It was Andrew choosing to say something at all. And somehow, that made today ten times better.

Neil looked up at him, searching his expression, feeling a question build behind his ribs.

Andrew held his gaze.

Then, in the way that only Andrew could, he nodded.

That was all Neil needed.

He surged forward, catching Andrew’s mouth with his own, pressing in, grounding himself in the feeling of it.

The kiss turned deeper, more urgent, the kind of kiss that stole breath and left nothing but heat in its wake. Neil didn’t know when it changed, when it stopped being a simple press of lips and became something more, something consuming.

All he knew was that by the time his brain caught up, he was already beneath Andrew, pressed into the mattress, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Andrew hovered over him, eyes dark, sharp, wanting. His grip on Neil was firm—grounding, unyielding, unshakable. His hand brushed against Neil’s waist, fingers pressing just hard enough to leave warmth in their wake.

Neil’s breath hitched as Andrew kissed him again, slower this time, like he was staking a claim, like he had all the time in the world.

There were no words between them.

There never needed to be.

They spoke in touches, in the way Andrew's hands traced over Neil's skin, in the way Neil arched into his warmth, in the way their hearts pounded against each other like they were trying to find the same rhythm.

The room was quiet, warm, and safe.

Neil and Andrew lay tangled together beneath the blankets, satisfied, bodies pressed close in the small bed. Neil rested against Andrew’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath Neil’s ear, grounding him in the present. Andrew, half-sitting against the pillows, lazily ran his fingers through Neil’s damp curls, the motion calm, repetitive, familiar.

Neil felt weightless.

For once, there was no rushing, no running, no need to think beyond this moment. He let his body relax into Andrew’s warmth, breathing him in, trusting him completely.

Then Andrew shifted.

Neil barely noticed at first, content to stay where he was, but then Andrew reached over the side of the bed, grabbing something from where his jeans lay crumpled on the floor. When he settled back against the pillows, there was a small box in his hand which then he placed in Neils hands.

Blinking in mild confusion, Neil lifted his head, looking down at the small box now sitting in his palm. His fingers curled around it instinctively, his chest tightening as he flicked his gaze up to Andrew, searching for an explanation. Andrew’s face was unreadable, his golden eyes steady, expectant, but not impatient. Without a word, Neil took a breath, then carefully flipped the lid open.

Inside was a ring.

Neil’s breath hitched, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe. The world around him seemed to slow, the edges of his thoughts going strangely quiet as his mind focused on nothing but the small, simple band nestled inside the box. It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was there, and it was real. His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed over the cool metal, his heart hammering harder than it should have, something inside him tightening painfully. Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat, he lifted his eyes back to Andrew, searching for some kind of explanation, some kind of confirmation that this was what he thought it was.

Andrew met his gaze without hesitation. "It’s a promise ring. A promise for the future."

Neil’s chest caved in on itself.

A sharp exhale left him as his fingers curled tighter around the box, as the weight of those words settled somewhere deep inside him. Andrew didn’t make promises lightly. Andrew didn’t do things like this unless he meant them, unless he was absolutely sure.

The first tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.

Andrew noticed immediately. He lifted a hand and brushed the tear away with his thumb, his expression unreadable but his touch careful, deliberate. His fingers lingered for just a second before he pulled back, tilting his head slightly. "Why are you crying?"

Neil let out a shaky breath, still gripping the ring like it was the most important thing in the world. His voice was quiet when he answered, just a whisper of something raw and unfiltered. "I’m just… happy."

Andrew studied him for a long moment, taking in the words, the expression on Neil’s face, the way his fingers refused to let go of the ring. Then, without another word, he nodded.

And just like that, Neil knew—this was real. This was the only promise that had ever mattered.

The locker room smelled faintly of bleach and window cleaner, the sharp scent lingering heavier than usual. Neil had never understood why they bothered cleaning before a game when the place would be trashed by the time it was over. Usually, the crew finished long before the Foxes arrived, but game-day traffic must have delayed them. It explained why Wymack was sitting on the entertainment center instead of holed up in his office. He claimed to be allergic to cleaning products, though Abby always called it a convenient excuse for the state of his apartment.

Neil twisted his combination into the lock, pulling the door open—only for something inside to resist, to catch, to snap.

And then—blood.

It exploded from his locker, drenching everything inside, cascading like a ruptured artery. The thick, metallic stench hit Neil’s nose before his mind could catch up, before his body could recoil. It filled his lungs, choked him, made his stomach lurch.

For a split second, he froze.

Then panic took over.

He lunged for his gear, grabbing at anything that could be saved. It was too late. His fingers curled around his jersey, and it squelched like a soaked sponge, blood spurting between his knuckles. He dropped it instantly, gagging, hands shaking as he reached for his helmet. He could barely get a grip before Matt’s arms wrapped around him, yanking him back.

"No," Neil protested, struggling, digging his heels in, but his shoes slid uselessly against the blood-slick floor. The spill had spread, pooling at the base of his locker, leaking across the tiles in thick, sticky waves.

Hanging from the top of his locker was an empty plastic bag, torn open from where it had been rigged to burst upon impact. It was huge, easily capable of holding two gallons. More than enough to destroy everything inside.

"Nicky," Andrew said, voice steady and unimpressed. "Get Coach."

Nicky bolted.

Neil threw his elbow back hard, catching Matt in the ribs. Matt grunted, his grip loosening just enough for Neil to break free. He scrambled back toward his locker, skidding, catching himself against the metal frame before he could slip entirely.

His hands worked fast, frantic, desperate. It didn’t matter that he already knew the truth—that everything was ruined.

He dumped his gear onto the floor, his movements growing wilder as he saw the extent of the damage. His jerseys were soaked through, indistinguishable from each other. His padding was beyond repair. His helmet—the only thing that looked somewhat salvageable—was dripping with blood. Neil picked it up, tilting it slightly, watching as the thick liquid slid down the faceguard like slow-moving syrup.

"Neil?" Matt’s voice was hesitant, careful.

Neil dropped the helmet to the pile and punched the back of his locker.

The plastic gave beneath his fist, a useless, empty resistance. His breath was harsh, ragged, his heart hammering so violently that he barely registered Andrew crossing the room toward him. He barely noticed when Andrew caught his wrist, stopping him before he could hurl the ruined plastic bag across the room.

Neil stared at him, through him, his pulse pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.

"It’s ruined," he said, voice raw with something ugly and furious. "It’s all ruined."

Before Andrew could respond, Wymack burst into the room, Nicky on his heels. He barely got two steps inside before the sight of so much blood made him falter.

"Is that yours?" he demanded.

Neil barely got a word out before Andrew cut in. "It’s not his. He’s fine."

Neil clenched his jaw, his mind still caught in the wreckage of his locker, of his gear, of the absolute mess of it all. "Peroxide," he said abruptly. "Does Abby have any in her office?"

Wymack just stared at him.

Neil took that as a no and turned to go find some himself.

Wymack blocked his path, holding up a hand. "I need you to derail that one-track fucking mind of yours for two seconds and focus on the fact that you are covered in someone or something’s blood. Are you okay?"

Neil’s hands curled into fists. "Andrew already said I’m fine."

"I’m not asking Andrew," Wymack snapped. "I’m asking you."

Before Neil could argue, Matt cut in. "Here, I’ve got an extra towel." He dug one out of his open locker and hurried toward the bathroom to wet it.

Then he stopped short.

His breath caught in his throat, his entire body going rigid.

"What the hell?"

Neil knew better than to look.

He knew.

But he looked anyway.

His feet moved on instinct, dragging him across the room, Wymack and Andrew following close behind.

And then he saw it.

Scrawled across the far wall, written in thick, smeared blood, was a message.

"Happy 19th Birthday, Jr."

Neil’s stomach bottomed out.

His head filled with static. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything around him. His teammates were speaking—loud, frantic, panicked. Their voices mumbled together, distorted, warped, background noise to something much bigger.

Neil knew exactly who had done this and it wasn’t Riko. He was too much of a coward to do something this big. And only two people called him that- Lola Malcom and-

His father.

The thought sent a violent chill through him, but the fear wasn’t for himself. It was for the people around him. Matt. Seth. Dan…Andrew. If his father had reached this far, if he had orchestrated this even from behind bars, then no one was safe.

But how? He was supposed to be in prison. He had been locked away, buried in a system designed to keep people like him from ever seeing daylight again. Unless—unless he had been released early. Neil’s stomach twisted at the thought. If that was true, if his father was free, then why hadn’t anyone told him? Why hasn’t Stuart called? Why hasn’t Ichiro warned him? There was no way they didn’t know, which meant they had kept it from him on purpose.

Neil felt something dark coil inside him, something too sharp to be fear and too controlled to be panic. The Moriyamas were supposed to be keeping their dog on a leash. Why weren’t they? Did they know he was loose? Did they allow this? Or worse—was this intentional?

His fists clenched, frustration boiling beneath his skin. If the Moriyamas had let his father move freely, if they had given him this much room to reach for Neil, then this wasn’t just a warning. It was a declaration. A game piece moved with precision, a signal of something much bigger looming just beneath the surface.

And if that was the case—if the Moriyamas were letting this happen, if they were inviting conflict—

Then this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

The world came back into focus in jagged, uneven pieces, just in time for Neil to hear Wymack mutter something about calling the police. No. That couldn’t happen. Neil grabbed his elbow before Wymack could turn away, fingers squeezing hard enough to make bone creak.

"Coach," he said, keeping his voice as even, as calm, as controlled as possible. "You're going to have to leave them out of this one. Okay? Let's just get through the game. I'll clean this up afterward. No one else has to know."

Wymack's expression darkened, his gaze sharp and assessing. "Give me one good reason not to cancel the game and pull security in here."

Neil met his eyes without hesitation. "I will. But later. Alone."

Wymack said nothing, but he studied Neil with a disquieting intensity, like he was peeling him apart piece by piece. Neil held his ground, held his stare, held his breath.

Finally, Wymack exhaled sharply, jaw tightening, but he didn’t argue.

Neil released his grip and took the wet towel from Matt’s unresisting hands. His lungs felt tight, burning, constricted as he crossed the room to his birthday message, the letters smudged, streaked, glistening in the harsh fluorescent light. He forced himself to breathe shallowly, refusing to gag, and began scrubbing the words away.

It took longer than he wanted. Blood was thick. Blood clung. By the time the words were gone, the towel was ruined—soaked through, stained, useless. Neil wiped his hands on the few clean patches left, then dropped it into the sink to deal with later.

"Neil," Matt started, voice tight.

Neil didn’t want to hear it. "Change out, Matt."

He turned back toward the lockers, already knowing what he would see. No one had moved.

Matt was still by the sinks, towel clenched in his hands. Wymack and Andrew stood in the bathroom doorway, unreadable, waiting. Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky were clustered by their lockers, watching him with expressions that ranged from unease to outright concern.

Neil felt like the truth was written across his skin.

The message had only said "Junior," but he expected someone to say it. To look at him and call him by that name.

He ignored the weight of their stares, pushing past it, and locked onto the one person who could help him salvage this.

"Kevin," he said, switching to French, keeping his voice low and sharp. "Get them moving. We’ve only got forty minutes until serve."

Kevin’s eyes narrowed. "Can you play?"

"I'm pissed off, not injured," Neil snapped, frustration lacing his words. "I'm not going to let this keep us from winning tonight. Are you?"

Kevin hesitated only a second before his expression hardened. He turned on the others with a sharp, dismissive glare. "Get moving. We have a game to win."

"You’re joking," Matt said, stepping closer, his voice incredulous as he looked between Neil and Kevin. His expression was caught between anger and disbelief, his stance stiff and tense. "You’re really going to ignore the fact that this," he stabbed a finger toward Neil’s ruined locker, the blood-streaked floor, the fucking horror show they had all just walked into, "just happened? Neil, you look like a Carrie stunt double. You don’t even want to get security up here while the scene’s still fresh?"

"No," Neil said flatly. "I don’t."

Matt scoffed. "You’re joking."

Neil met his gaze, unwavering. "Riko is an egotist and an asshole. He wants us to react to this. If we do, he wins. Don't give him that satisfaction. Pretend this never happened and focus on the Terrapins."

It wasn’t just about Riko, but Neil wasn’t about to let Matt see the deeper truth beneath his words. This wasn’t about one night. This wasn’t about a game. This was about keeping all of them alive.

Wymack exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. It took him only a few more moments to pick a side. "No one's changing in here. Get your gear and get out. You can have the girls' room when they're done with it."

He turned to Neil, eyes still sharp, still unrelenting. "I will give you one chance tonight. If I think your head isn't in the game, I will pull you so fast you'll get whiplash and Seth will take your place. Do you understand me?"

Neil nodded.

A terrible silence settled over the locker room, thick and suffocating. No one spoke, no one moved—until Andrew finally crossed the room to his locker and began unloading his gear. That was all it took. The unspoken signal.

One by one, the others followed. Kevin and Aaron grabbed their things without a word. Nicky hesitated only long enough to press a spare towel into Neil’s hands before heading out. Matt lingered the longest, his hesitation obvious as he watched Neil, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation or reassurance.

"I’ll wash up in here," Neil said, gesturing vaguely at himself, at the ruined state of his clothes, at the blood still drying on his skin. "I don’t want to track this any further than I have to."

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, but after a beat, he sighed and nodded. He didn’t like it, but he accepted it.

Then he left, and Neil was finally alone.

For a long moment, he stood there, staring at his ruined locker, at the wreckage left behind. The blood had already started drying, darkening in places, clinging to the corners of his gear like a shadow that refused to fade.

Neil turned away and went to the showers.

The water hit his skin, scalding at first, but he barely noticed. He kept his gaze locked on the tiles beneath his feet, watching as red swirled down the drain, fading, thinning, disappearing with every passing second. But no matter how long he stood there, no matter how many times he scrubbed his arms, his chest, his hands—he still felt like he was drowning in it.

It took three full washes before he finally gave up.

Just as he shut the water off, Wymack’s voice echoed from the other side of the room.

"Matt went back to Fox Tower to get you some boxers and socks. I brought in the spare gear, but you’ll have to figure out which ones fit best. I’ll bring back your uniform when it’s clean. Sit tight until then."

Neil dragged a towel over his face, exhaling through the fabric before muttering a quiet, "Yes, Coach."

He waited for the door to close before finally stepping out, towel slung low around his hips. The backup gear Wymack had left was from years ago, from when the team’s lineup was bigger. Most of it was adjustable, but only to a certain extent. It took longer than he wanted to piece together a full set, each trial and error only adding to the irritation festering in his chest.

None of it mattered.

Not the blood, not the message, not the lingering unease curling in his ribs.

All that mattered was the game.

The rest could wait—until later, when he called Stuart.

Neil finished getting dressed, the stiffness of his borrowed gear a constant reminder of what had happened earlier. Wymack gave him a once-over, his expression unreadable, before giving a short, unconvincing nod. Apparently, Neil passed whatever silent test Wymack was running because he didn’t say anything else—just shooed him out of the locker room ahead of him.

By the time Neil stepped onto the court, the team had already finished their warm-ups and stretches. He took a couple of laps on his own while Wymack ran through his pre-game spiel, using the movement to push the lingering static from his mind. He needed to focus. Needed to put every ounce of himself into this game.

When he finally rejoined the team, all eyes turned to him.

"Are you sure you're okay, Neil?" Dan asked, concern laced through her voice.

Neil didn’t hesitate. "I’m sure we have a game to win," he said. "Worry more about that and less about me."

The referees let them on-court for drills, and Neil threw himself into it. Every step, every swing of his racquet, every break in his movements was calculated to push out the memory of what had been waiting for him in the locker room. By the time the starting lineup took their places for serve, Neil was so lost in the game that for a moment, he almost forgot.

But not completely.

The ghost of it still clung to him, heavy and unshakable. He could feel it pressing against his ribs, curling around the edges of his thoughts, and it drove him to play harder, faster, sharper. He and Kevin collided into their backliner marks with a level of aggression that should have been controlled, but neither of them cared. Kevin didn’t warn him to pull back, and Neil didn’t try. He was pushing too hard, moving too recklessly, toeing a dangerous line.

It took until halftime for it to catch up with him.

The whistle blew, and Neil glanced down just in time to see the ref holding up a yellow card.

He expected Wymack to use it as an excuse to pull him, but when they returned to the locker room, Wymack didn’t mention it.

Neil thought he smelled blood as they walked in.

It was impossible.

There was too much distance between here and the changing room, and the air was clogged with the sharp scent of sweat, deodorant, and sports tape. His teammates weren’t paying attention to him anyway. Dan was scanning the room, frowning.

"Where's Abby?" she asked, glancing at Wymack.

"She had to go on campus for a bit," Wymack replied. "No one get mauled in her absence." He gestured toward the cooler. "Everyone drink up and stretch out. We don’t have a lot of time."

The second half started, and the Foxes played like they had everything to lose.

Neil pulled from every skill he had—Kevin’s relentless shooting and passing drills, the defensive footwork drilled into him during his time with the Ravens. When he had to call to Kevin, he did so in French, his words sharp, urgent, leaving no room for hesitation. He was more aggressive with his backliner mark than usual, pushing, testing limits, toeing another line that no one stopped him from crossing. By the time the kid faltered under his pressure, Neil was sure he was close to crying.

Across the court, Matt was an unrelenting force, holding his own despite the sheer power of the Terrapins’ strikers. Nicky was still their weakest link on defense, but Andrew balanced him out with ruthless efficiency. When Aaron subbed in, the twins worked together in perfect, terrifying synchronization.

With eight minutes left on the clock, the Foxes started to slow.

They had gone too hard, too early. They were up by four points, which meant they just had to hold their ground, but Neil wasn’t satisfied.

He wanted another point.

The problem was the fresh backliners the Terrapins had subbed in. They were quick, and they cut off Neil, Kevin, and Seth at every turn. Kevin’s frustration was obvious—he was starting to check more aggressively, riding the edge of what the referees would allow.

When they lost the ball again, Neil snapped at him in French. "Kevin, pull back."

Kevin’s eyes flashed, his scowl deepening. "Fuck off!" he snarled.

Neil barely held back a smirk. At least Kevin was listening.

Two minutes later, they got the break they needed.

A Terrapin striker got past Matt and charged for the goal. Matt was seconds behind, too far to stop the shot but close enough to make a difference. He lunged at the last second, clipping the striker just enough to throw him off balance.

The striker stumbled, his racquet twisting in a desperate attempt to regain control, but he got too close to the goal.

Andrew was out of his box in an instant.

He body-checked the striker so hard the guy hit the floor and stayed down for a solid five seconds, dazed.

Neil didn’t wait. Matt had already scrambled after the ball, launching it up the court to Allison. She sprinted for the goal, weaving through defenders before passing it off.

Neil caught it.

And this time, when he took his shot—it hit its mark.

The Foxes rallied behind the goal, pushing forward, capitalizing on the last minutes of play. When the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 10-5.

The Foxes had won.

The crowd exploded, cheers shaking the stadium, rattling through Neil’s ribs, but he barely heard it. His team swarmed the goal, celebrating together because Andrew wouldn’t come to them.

Last season, Nicky and Renee had dragged Andrew into the post-win chaos while he was too sick to fight back. Now, Nicky made as if to pounce on him again, but Andrew pointed his racquet at him in silent warning.

Nicky thought better of it and grabbed Aaron instead.

Neil stood on the outskirts, watching, waiting, feeling the weight of the night settle over him. The win should have been enough, should have been everything. But even now, even standing here in victory, the locker room still clung to him.

He turned toward Andrew and offered him a weak, exhausted smile. It was the best he could do, given the circumstances.

Andrew studied him for a moment, then shook his head. He didn’t say anything—just reached out and wrapped an arm around Neil’s waist, pulling him in.

And for a brief moment, the weight of the night didn’t feel so heavy.

The handshake line was mercifully fast. Neil barely looked at the Terrapins as they muttered their obligatory "good game," his mind already elsewhere. His body still buzzed with post-win adrenaline, his muscles tight from exertion, but underneath it all was something colder, sharper, something that refused to let go.

As soon as they were off the court, Wymack and Abby were waiting for them.

Wymack stood with a toothy, satisfied grin, the kind that meant he was proud, even if he’d never say it outright. Abby, always softer in her approach, smiled warmly as her gaze flickered over each of them, checking for signs of injury.

Dan caught sight of Wymack’s expression and, as if feeding off his energy, let out an excited whoop. Then, without warning, she took off toward the stands, arms raised, hyping the crowd up even further.

Matt and Nicky barely hesitated before tearing off after her, their excitement still electric from the win. The three of them would be sucked into interviews, cameras in their faces, answering questions about game strategy and teamwork and rivalries. They would be easy targets for reporters, and Wymack knew it.

That’s why he let them go.

He turned back to the rest of the team and jerked his head toward the tunnel. "Come on. We’re not standing around here all night."

Neil followed automatically, his legs moving on instinct, his mind still trying to catch up. His pulse hadn’t settled yet, still pounding under his skin, still reminding him of the way his body had pushed and pushed and pushed through the game. His gear was sticky with sweat, his hands a little unsteady, but none of it was from exertion.

It wasn’t until they reached the foyer—until the door to the locker room came into view—that it hit him like a brick to the chest.

The blood. The message. The fucking aftermath waiting for him on the other side.

His steps faltered. His stomach twisted.

Without thinking, he turned to Wymack. "Do you have a mop I can use?"

The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Wymack gave him a look so sharp and immediate that Neil almost expected a verbal lashing. Instead, Wymack let out a heavy, exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Shut your face. You’re not dealing with that right now. We just won."

Neil held his gaze for half a second longer before nodding stiffly.

Fine. He wouldn’t deal with it. Not yet.

But he also wasn’t about to sit in that locker room with the weight of it pressing down on him.

Without another word, he veered off course, slipping out the back door of the building. The moment the cool air hit his overheated skin, he exhaled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly—but only slightly. The relief was temporary, a weak substitute for the clarity he was really looking for.

He moved toward the side of the building, where the shadows were thicker, where the reporters wouldn’t find him, and slid down against the rough brick wall. The ground was cold beneath him, but he barely felt it as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter.

The first drag burned, grounding him. The second settled something in his chest that had been rattling loose since before the game even started.

Then, without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed Stuart.

The call barely rang twice before Stuart picked up. "Neil?" His voice was steady, calm but alert, like he already knew something was wrong.

Neil didn’t waste time. "Someone left a message for me in blood."

A sharp inhale. Then silence.

Neil leaned his head back against the wall, eyes burning as he continued. "In the locker room. ‘Happy 19th Birthday, Jr.’ I think we both know who that someone is."

This time, the silence was heavier.

Then Stuart spoke, voice clipped, cold in a way that meant he was already calculating. "What the hell?"

"That’s what I’d like to know," Neil bit out. "What the fuck is going on? How did this happen? If something changed, if he was coming after me, why didn’t you tell me?"

"Neil," Stuart started, but his voice held genuine confusion. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing has changed. I would have told you."

Neil gritted his teeth. He wasn’t lying. Stuart could be a manipulative bastard when he needed to be, but not with this. Not with something that put Neil in danger.

If Stuart didn’t know, then who did?

His fingers tightened around his phone. There was only one other person to call.

He ended the call with Stuart without another word and dialed Ichiro next.

Neil barely waited for Ichiro to pick up before launching into his fury, his voice sharp, slicing through the cold night air like a blade. "Why the fuck didn’t you tell me or Stuart that my father was released from prison?" His grip on his phone was so tight it hurt. "Do you want to end our deal, or are you just looking to start a war?"

There was a pause, then a sigh—not the kind that signaled regret, but the kind that reeked of irritation, like Neil was nothing more than an inconvenience.

"Listen," Ichiro said, slow and measured, like he was speaking to a child. "As much as I’d like to think I’m in charge, my old man is still alive. He didn’t want the Hatfords to know because he thought it wasn’t important." His tone was flat, dismissive, like this was some minor oversight, like Nathan Wesninski being loose wasn’t a fucking catastrophe. "And it’s not like your father can do much."

Neil felt something in him snap.

He laughed, the sound sharp, humorless, venom-laced. "Are you delusional, or just fucking stupid?" He barely registered the way his free hand clenched into a fist, his nails digging into his palm. "Do you think he’s just going to sit there and behave? He will kill me if he gets the chance, and you think it’s not important?!"

Ichiro remained maddeningly unbothered. "He knows he can’t do anything unless he wants to die."

Neil’s breath came out ragged, his fury barely contained beneath the surface. He was seeing red, and it had nothing to do with the blood in his locker. "Too fucking late!" His voice was razor-sharp, cutting, furious. "He already did something!"

Ichiro’s confidence wavered. "What are you talking about?"

Neil’s grip on his phone was white-knuckled, his entire body thrumming with the need to hit something. "You mean to tell me you don’t know?" He laughed again, but this time it was sharper, nastier. "Your little pet filled my locker with blood and left me a personal message in the bathroom. Tell me, Ichiro—how exactly does that fit into your ‘he can’t do anything’ theory?"

Ichiro went silent.

For once, the smugness was gone.

Then, clipped and serious, "I’ll deal with it."

Neil saw red.

"Like you did before?" His words came out lethal, laced with disgust, with pure, unfiltered rage. His heart was pounding, his breathing too sharp, too fast. He wanted to grab Ichiro by the collar and shake some fucking sense into him.

Ichiro’s tone dipped into something colder, more calculated. "Don’t make this more difficult, Hatford."

Neil barked out another harsh, mocking laugh. "You haven’t seen me difficult." He exhaled, grounding himself just enough to make sure every word landed exactly as it needed to. "You fix this. You put a leash on that rabid dog you let loose, or I swear to God, I’ll make sure you don’t outlive your father."

Silence.

Thick. Charged.

Then, low and measured, Ichiro asked, "Are you threatening me?" There was amusement there, the arrogant disbelief of a man who thought he was untouchable. "Who do you think you are? You may be a Hatford, but you’re still just a boy. You have no real power."

Neil smirked, slow and deliberate, even though Ichiro couldn’t see it. He flicked his cigarette, watching the embers scatter against the pavement, and lowered his voice to something cold, deadly.

"Don’t forget what I did to earn my freedom."

Then, sharper—"Now deal with this before my uncle decides to burn your entire family to the fucking ground."

And with that, Neil hung up.

He didn’t wait for a response.

By the time Neil returned inside, Dan was already making her way toward them, signaling that the women had finished, and the men could finally take over the changing room. Neil followed his teammates without a word, moving through the motions like a machine—showering quickly, dressing with practiced efficiency. Each movement was mechanical, automatic, as though his body knew what to do even if his mind was too tired to keep up.

It was the same as always: the last one dressed.

When he finally stepped into the lounge, the rest of the Foxes were already there, waiting. There was an unsettling silence that hung in the air, the kind that made the room feel smaller, as though the walls were inching in on him.

Wymack stood in front of the entertainment center, his arms crossed, his stance as stiff as the frown on his face. His expression was heavy, like a storm was brewing behind his eyes. Abby lingered by the doorway, her presence like a soft breath of air, as though she wanted to be close enough to help, but not too close to push him away.

Neil’s first instinct was to turn and walk right past her, to escape the room, to escape the conversation, to bury himself in the numbness of silence. He was exhausted. The adrenaline from the game had already worn off, leaving only the suffocating weight of everything else that lingered beneath it.

But no matter where he went, no matter how fast he ran, they would chase him down.

So instead, he sank into the couch beside Andrew, the heat of his lover’s presence a stark contrast to the coldness creeping up his spine. Andrew didn’t acknowledge him, not with a word or even a glance, but that was nothing new. They never needed words. Not like this.

Wymack didn’t speak until Neil had gone perfectly still, his eyes unfocused, his body tense with the unspoken weight that filled the room. The seconds dragged by, a heavy silence pressing against his chest.

"First off," Wymack’s voice broke through, low and sharp, the kind of voice that demanded attention even as it cut through the quiet. "The massacred elephant in the room. Or rather, the massacred birds."

His eyes darkened, and Neil knew he wasn’t talking about just the animals. He was talking about them.

"I called in a favor with the faculty," Wymack continued, voice flat, but edged with something dangerous, something burning beneath the surface. "Got Abby access to the microscopes in the science labs. We needed to make sure that wasn’t human blood."

Nicky wrinkled his nose, the tension in the room briefly broken by his soft, almost nervous laugh. "That’s morbid."

"But necessary," Wymack shot back, his tone hard, no room for questioning. "Considering who we’re dealing with."

Neil remained silent, his heart thudding slowly in his chest. His knees felt like stone beneath his fingers, but his hands still pressed harder, as if grounding himself would somehow stop the world from spinning out of control.

"The last thing I want is to put you all at risk," Wymack continued, his voice thick with the weight of responsibility. "The court is supposed to be a safe place for you. But I’ve failed to protect you." His words came out like a confession, like an apology, and Neil felt the bitter taste of guilt rising in his throat. "I have half a mind to install cameras in here. At least in the public areas. But I won’t do that unless everyone agrees. And if we do rig something up, the only ones who will see those tapes are the people in this room right now. I want people in our business as much as you do."

The room stayed silent. The heaviness of Wymack’s words settled over them, suffocating, pressing them into their seats like invisible hands.

"Which leads me to my second point." Wymack’s gaze sharpened, flicking over each of them in turn, a silent assessment that made Neil feel like he was under a microscope. "Neil asked us to leave the authorities out of this."

Neil could feel the weight of the room shift, feel the eyes on him, and he braced himself for the storm that was about to come.

"I respect him enough to allow that," Wymack said, his voice careful, measured, like a man who knew he was walking a tightrope. "But it’s not just up to me. Are you all okay with that?"

Dan crossed her arms, jaw tight, her gaze intense. "You’re really just going to let Riko get away with this?"

Neil barely hesitated, his voice coming out with a coldness that surprised even him. "He wouldn’t have done this if he thought he’d get caught."

The lie slipped from his lips too easily, too smoothly, but he didn’t take it back. He couldn’t afford to. Let them believe it was Riko’s fault. It was safer that way. For all of them.

But Matt didn’t look convinced. His brow furrowed in quiet suspicion, his voice firm as he spoke. "Maybe we can’t get him, but we could get his middlemen." His words were soft, but there was an edge to them—certainty, determination. "No one’s perfect. Everyone leaves a trail."

And then, Aaron.

His voice sliced through the silence, casual, sharp, and uncaring as always. "You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Junior?"

The room stilled, a sharp inhale rising in unison, as if they all knew what was coming next.

Neil saw red.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. He was on his feet, crossing the room in seconds, anger surging in his veins like fire.

"You think I wanted this?!" His voice was low, dangerous, a threat without needing to raise it. His words were sharp, cold as steel. "The fuck is your problem now?!"

Aaron didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. He just met Neil’s fury with that same detached expression, the kind that made Neil’s blood burn even hotter. Aaron didn’t care. He never had. “They'll never find proof that Riko was involved in this," Aaron said, "but they might find something else, right? That's what this is all about, isn't it? You are hiding something. And when that something bites us from behind it will be all on you."

Neil’s hands shook, the adrenaline and rage spilling over, blurring into something darker, more desperate. Something broken.

"It’s not my fault my father is a fucking psycho—"

The words were out before he could stop them.

The second they left his mouth, the room froze.

Everything stopped.

Neil’s own breath caught in his throat, his stomach dropping, spinning into a dizzying pit of terror. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t—

Dan’s voice shattered the silence, tight, careful, probing. "You mean this isn’t Riko’s fault?"

Neil swallowed hard, the weight of the question sinking into him, crushing him. His chest was too tight. Too tight. The walls around him felt like they were closing in, suffocating him with the pressure. He could feel the heat rising in his face, the edges of panic creeping up his spine, too familiar, too dangerous.

He hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time. But this one felt different. This one felt like it was going to consume him.

Too many eyes on him. Too many questions waiting to break him open.

It was too late.

They knew.

The room was heavy with silence, thick and suffocating, each second stretching painfully as Neil’s breath hitched in his chest. His pulse drummed against his temples, too fast, too erratic. His body felt like it was on fire, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the freezing chill creeping through his veins.

He could feel the weight of their stares, the way their eyes dug into him like needles, pulling out truths he hadn’t meant to reveal. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, tight, as though every word was a stone lodged there.

Dan’s voice came again, sharp and tight. “Neil, look at me.”

But he couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything he had carefully kept hidden was crashing down around him.

His hands, shaking uncontrollably now, pressed into his knees as if the simple act could ground him. He forced himself to take slow, steady breaths—just like they taught him in the countless therapy sessions, just like the rules told him to—but it didn’t help. Not now. Not when everything felt like it was falling apart.

Andrew didn’t say anything, but Neil could feel the weight of his presence beside him, like a constant, steady force. It was comforting, something solid, something unyielding, and right now, that was all Neil could hold on to.

Wymack’s voice broke through the haze, calmer now, though there was still an edge to it. “This isn’t a discussion I’m taking lightly, Neil. You’ve kept us in the dark about a lot of things. You’ve kept yourself in the dark about a lot of things. But I need to know you’re still in this with us. No more lies.”

“I didn’t—” Neil began, his voice barely above a whisper. His chest felt like it was caving in. He wanted to take it back, to say anything to make it stop, but the words wouldn’t come. His head was swimming, and the silence around him was deafening, too heavy, too much.

“You don’t have to explain everything to us,” Matt said softly, but there was a tightness in his voice now, something unspoken. "But you owe us the truth, Neil."

The words felt like a punch in the gut, and Neil’s breath caught again. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

Neil swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady. “You want the truth?” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t spoken in years. “My father is a psychotic murderer.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and jagged, as if they had weight. As if they were heavier than anything he had said in his life.

The room froze. Even Andrew’s hand, which had been resting on the couch beside Neil, tensed, but he didn’t speak. No one did. They waited.

“My father’s in prison for killing my mother,” Neil continued, his voice growing softer as he spoke the truth, feeling it settle like a weight on his chest. “He’s done more than that, though. A lot more. He works for the Moriyamas.”

There was no shock. No gasp. Just quiet. Neil could feel their stares like burning coals. They didn’t need to ask. They knew what that meant.

His father worked for them, and Neil had spent his whole life running, hiding, trying to escape the consequences of his blood.

He didn’t know what to say next. He couldn’t tell them everything. He couldn’t explain it all. There were things he would never, ever say aloud. But the silence was pressing in on him, suffocating him. So he continued, even as his chest tightened with each word.

“I can’t tell you everything,” Neil murmured, “But you should know that. You should know who I’m tied to. My father isn’t someone you want to cross. He doesn’t care about the things people normally care about. But one good thing is that the Moriyamas are against all of this” Neil’s gaze flicked to Andrew briefly, just for a moment, before he looked away again. Andrew’s expression hadn’t changed, but the faint tension in his posture was enough for Neil to know he wasn’t alone in this.

Wymack spoke next, his voice careful but firm. “So you’re saying your father—he's the one behind this?”

Neil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breath. “Yes” he said quietly

He could feel their questions still pressing at him, but he pushed them down. “I’m not afraid of my father. I’m not afraid of what he might do to me. But I am afraid of what he might do to you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and immediately he cursed himself for it.

But it was the truth. His father had no interest in emotional manipulation. No interest in playing with people’s heads. His father didn’t care about that. If you were in his way, you didn’t get the luxury of quick death. He made it slow. And brutal. He was a man of violence, of rage, and Neil could still hear the echoes of that rage in his memories.

Andrew shifted next to him, and Neil felt the warmth of his hand on the back of his neck, a quiet, grounding presence that made the weight of the room feel a little less suffocating. But the warmth didn’t erase the tension, and Neil knew it wouldn’t.

Abby finally stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. “We need to know what we’re up against, Neil. If your father’s really involved, we need a plan. A real one.”

Neil shook his head. “I can’t plan for what I can’t predict.” His chest tightened again. His heart was racing now. “All I know is that my father doesn’t care about people. He never has. He cares about control. About power. I escape him and hurt his ego. That’s why he is after me now. I can just hope it doesn’t affect you. If it will make you feel better someone is trying to stop him as we are talking, but I don’t know if he will succeed.”

The air between them felt heavy with unspoken words, but Andrew’s hand on Neil’s back remained steady, like an unspoken promise that, no matter how bad this got, Neil wouldn’t be alone. Not while Andrew was there.

Neil looked up at the group then, all their eyes on him—questions, concerns, fears—each of them processing the information in their own way. He knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

But at least now, they knew. The truth was out in the open, and for better or worse, there was no going back.

Neil was done. He didn’t care about the rest of the night, didn’t care about the looks, the questions, the plans. His body was running on empty, his mind a tangled mess of everything he’d tried so hard to keep hidden. He just needed to shut it all out.

Without a word, he left the room, made his way to the dorms, and collapsed into his bed. He pulled the covers over his body, willing himself to sleep, though the heaviness in his chest made it feel impossible. The silence of the room pressed against him, suffocating, and though his eyes were shut, his mind was still spinning. Every word from earlier echoed in his ears. His father. The Moriyamas. His lies. The weight of it all felt like it was pressing in on him, and he couldn’t escape.

After what felt like an eternity, the door to the room creaked open. Neil didn’t have to look to know who it was. He could feel Andrew’s presence, the steady force that always seemed to ground him, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” Andrew said quietly, his voice steady, like he wasn’t surprised at all.

Neil huffed in response but didn’t move from where he lay, curled into the blankets. Andrew didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, he came closer, sitting down next to Neil on the bed without a word. He shifted the covers, slipping in beside him, his body warm and solid next to Neil’s.

Neil finally pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and Andrew did the same. There was no rush, no urgency in his movements, just the usual calm, methodical way he did things.

“What do you want?” Neil asked, his voice a little more tired than he intended.

Andrew shrugged, his eyes calculating but not unkind. “I was thinking about something. Aaron is acting stupid because he can’t have Katelyn over in our dorm since I told him I don’t want to watch them making heart eyes at each other. He’s dump enough to not invite her when I’m not around.”

Neil arched an eyebrow, not entirely sure where this was going. He didn't really care, but he knew Andrew would say more if he waited. So he did, leaning back against the wall.

“So in hopes of avoiding someone hitting him,” Andrew continued, “I was hoping you would agree to switch dorms. He’ll be with Matt and Seth, and you’ll be with me, Kevin, and Nicky. I was also thinking of kicking Nicky and Kevin out, but Coach told me the best he could do is one of them.”

Neil blinked, processing the request. It wasn’t a big deal, not really. The arrangements would be easy enough to work out, but his head ached from everything that had happened today, and he wasn’t sure he could make a decision in this state. The thought of moving dorms didn’t sound like much of a hassle, but his mind was too clouded.

“Sure,” Neil said finally, his voice flat. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, but my head hurts, and I just can’t think rationally about this right now.”

Andrew nodded as if expecting that response, his expression unreadable. Without warning, he reached for Neil, pulling him gently into his arms. Neil didn’t fight it. He never did. Andrew’s touch, the warmth of his body, was always a comfort—quiet, reliable. Something Neil never thought he would need or even want, but now it was something he couldn't imagine being without.

Neil sighed as Andrew carefully pulled him to sit between his legs, cradling Neil against him. He wrapped his arms around Neil’s waist, holding him firmly but without pressure. For a moment, they simply sat there in silence, the weight of everything from earlier still hanging over Neil but somehow softened by Andrew’s presence.

Andrew kissed his forehead gently, his lips warm against Neil’s skin, and whispered, “I’ll hold you for a moment. I know you need it after today.”

Neil hummed in response, leaning back into the warmth and safety of Andrew’s embrace. He closed his eyes, letting the world fall away for just a little while. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, the steady rhythm of Andrew’s breathing calming the chaos in his own chest. For the first time that day, he felt like he could breathe again.

“I hate that you know me so well,” Neil muttered, his voice muffled by the blanket covering them both.

Andrew didn’t respond at first, but after a beat, he spoke, his voice low and a little teasing. “I don’t hate it. And you don’t either.”

Neil smiled despite himself, a soft, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. He didn’t need to say anything more. He knew Andrew knew. Knew him better than anyone else ever had. And for all the walls Neil had built, for all the things he kept hidden, Andrew had always found a way to make him feel... seen.

So, for the moment, Neil let himself be held. Let himself relax against Andrew’s chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a quiet reminder that, for all the chaos in the world, there was one place where Neil could find a little peace.

“Just… don’t let go,” Neil whispered, his voice barely audible, but the sentiment clear.

“I won’t,” Andrew replied softly. “Not now. Not ever.”

Neil believed it.

Chapter Text

Neil woke before the sun, the weight of the previous night still pressing against his ribs. Sleep had been fleeting, slipping through his fingers like water, leaving him restless and worn. Andrew's warmth had been grounding, but it hadn’t been enough to quiet the inevitable.

He needed to run.

Slipping out of bed, careful not to disturb Andrew, Neil changed into his running gear and left the dorm. The air outside was crisp, cold enough to sting his lungs, but he welcomed it. It shocked his system awake, forced his mind to focus on the burn of his muscles rather than the storm raging inside him.

His feet pounded against the pavement, his body moving on instinct, each step taking him further and further from the decisions he didn’t want to make. But no matter how far or how fast he ran, the truth was inescapable.

He had to go back.

He didn't want to. Every fiber of his being fought against it. He wanted to stay, to finish the season, to be a Fox until the very end. But it wasn’t possible anymore. Not with his father out there.

If he stayed, it wouldn’t just be him paying the price. His team—his family—would suffer.

And he couldn’t let that happen.

By the time he made it back to the dorms, his decision was final. His body ached, but his mind was clearer, even if it felt like he was tearing himself apart from the inside.

He grabbed his phone and dialed.

Stuart answered on the second ring, his voice laced with sleep. "Neil?"

“I need to leave.” Neil said, his voice steadier than he expected.

A beat of silence. Then, "Tell me what’s going on."

Neil closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temple. “It’s my father. You know he’s a risk. If I stay here, the team will be in danger.” He exhaled slowly. “I can’t let that happen.”

Stuart didn’t respond immediately, but Neil could hear the shift in his breathing, the way he was weighing every word.

"We always knew this was a possibility," Stuart said finally. "Are you sure?"

No. He wasn’t. He wanted someone—anyone—to tell him there was another way. That he could stay without putting the Foxes at risk. That he could fight without losing everything.

But there were no guarantees. Not until Nathan and all of his men were death.

So he swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to lie.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Neil pushed open the door to the changing room, already rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself for the mess he expected to find. But the moment he stepped inside, he froze.

The floor was spotless. The dried blood, the wreckage from the night before—gone.

His gaze swept the room, but he was alone. The air smelled of industrial cleaner instead of iron and rot. He crossed the space in slow, deliberate steps, almost expecting to find some lingering evidence of what had happened. But everything was back to normal, as if last night had never happened at all.

His locker was next. The lock came undone easily beneath his fingers, but when he swung the door open, his stomach twisted. It was empty.

He stared for a long moment, a bitter taste rising in his throat. He had half-expected it. Wymack had been up for hours by now—of course he would have cleaned this up.

Neil sat on the bench, resting his elbows on his knees, and pulled out his phone.

The second ring barely finished before Wymack picked up.

"I am surprised you're awake this early on a Saturday morning."

"Coach, the changing room is clean."

"Yeah, I know. Abby and I took care of it last night after you left."

Neil pressed his fingers to his temple. "I'm sorry. I was going to clean it this morning."

"Didn't I tell you not to worry about it?" Wymack demanded.

"You told me not to deal with it yesterday."

"Whatever," Wymack said, voice gruff but not unkind. "You can make it up to me later. Actually, what are you doing now that I've ruined your morning plans? Nothing?"

Neil hesitated. "Nothing."

"Good. You can sort through files with me instead. I'll lug them over and grab breakfast on the way. Or did you eat already?"

"Not yet," Neil admitted. "I'll wait here."

Wymack grunted his approval and hung up.

Neil sighed and closed his locker, then left the changing room, heading for the lounge. He kept his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, as he walked along the walls. He hadn’t paid much attention to Dan’s photo collection before, but now, with the weight of his decision pressing down on him, he let himself look.

Most of the photos were expected—group shots, game highlights, pictures from the bus. He would miss this. More than he could put into words. He would miss Dan’s constant leadership, Matt’s unwavering loyalty, Kevin’s obsession, even Nicky’s exhausting energy. He had finally found a place where he belonged—and now he had to leave.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

A picture near the corner caught his eye, and Neil stopped.

It was a shot of him and Andrew.

Neil stared. It took him a moment to place it—Upstate Regional Airport, on their way to play Texas. The crowd of people in the background had thrown him off at first, but the windows gave it away.

Dan must have taken this without him noticing.

 Neil traced the edge of the photo with his fingertips, his chest tight with something unnamed.

They were barely a breath apart, locked in one of their wordless standoffs, the kind that meant everything and nothing at once. There was no aggression in Andrew’s stance, no malice in his expression. Just a sharp, assessing look, the kind that stripped Neil down to his core, demanding honesty without ever asking for it out loud.

It was them.

Something in Neil cracked.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Not the pictures, not the memories, not the quiet moments he had let himself have. None of it mattered.

Because by the end of the week, he would be in England. And this time, he wasn’t coming back.

Wymack showed up then, a brown paper bag hanging from one hand and a heavy box stuffed with papers in the other. Neil pulled the door open wider so Wymack could squeeze through and drop his things onto the nearest table.

Wymack surveyed the lounge, then grunted and shoved the entertainment center closer to the couches, making a makeshift table. Neil watched in silence as he laid out folders in four neat stacks.

When Wymack tossed the empty box aside, Neil reached for the closest folder and flipped it open. A profile sheet stared back at him, featuring an unfamiliar player’s face.

“Potential recruits,” Wymack said. “We need six minimum.”

“Six?” Neil echoed, kneeling across from him. “You’re doubling the line?”

“Not by choice.” Wymack pulled out bagel sandwiches and juice from the paper bag, splitting the haul between them. “The ERC doesn’t want to keep bending the rules for us. I promised it’d never happen again. That means filling up on subs next year.”

Wymack checked each stack before pushing one toward Neil. “The girls are all going to be fifth-year seniors, so we need at least three bodies training to replace them. In total, we’re looking for two strikers, two dealers, a backliner, and a goalie. Find me some potential, and we’ll narrow it down later.”

“Shouldn’t Kevin be doing this with you?” Neil asked.

“You choose the first cut,” Wymack said. “He’ll do the second. I’ll make the final call.”

Neil eyed the stack in front of him. He opened the top folder and skimmed through the pages—fitness scores, scoring trends, shooting accuracy. By the time he reached the third striker, he had an idea of what to look for. The third player was consistently good, but the fourth? The fourth improved over time. They had something to prove. They fought for it.

The thought sat heavy in Neil’s chest.

He sorted the files into two stacks—most promising and maybes—before going through them again, second-guessing each decision. He expected Wymack to be done with the other positions by the time he finished, but when Neil stole a glance at him, Wymack wasn’t much further along. His gaze wasn’t even moving over the stats anymore. He was staring at a player’s picture, like the expression alone could tell him everything he needed to know.

Neil hesitated, then asked, “You know, when I applied to Palmetto, I was ready to be rejected. I didn’t know if I will fit your criteria for potential players, but I wanted to try. I was surprised when you accepted me without Stuart needing to interfere. Why?”

Wymack looked up at him, expression unreadable. “When I heard about a kid wanting to join the Foxes, I was ready to say no. Then I saw your file. Your stats were good, better than average. You were going to be a good addition to the team—but I’ve refused plenty of good players before.”

He leaned back, still holding the folder loosely in one hand. “Then I saw your picture. Your eyes told me everything I needed to know.”

Neil’s throat went tight.

They let the conversation drop. It took half the morning to get through the striker candidates, but Neil finally had a stack ready for Kevin and Wymack to review. Wymack set it on the ground by his knee and dumped the rejected files back in the box.

“Anything else?” Neil asked.

“Free to go,” Wymack said. “Need a ride?”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Wymack muttered without looking up.

Neil let it go, gathering up their trash and heading for the bin. He had just reached the garbage can when Wymack spoke up again.

“By the way, I’m making you vice-captain next year.”

Neil’s heart stopped.

His fingers clenched around the empty juice bottle as he turned back to Wymack. It took two tries to get his voice to work. “You’re what?”

“Dan’s got to leave eventually,” Wymack said, flipping through another file. “She needs a replacement.”

“Not me.” Neil shook his head. “You should be asking Matt or Kevin.”

“They’re talented players with more experience,” Wymack agreed. “But they don’t have what this team needs.” He finally glanced up, leveling Neil with a look. “Do you know why I made Dan captain?”

Neil swallowed and shook his head.

“I knew the moment I saw her she could lead this team. It didn’t matter what her teammates thought of her, didn’t matter what the press thought of her. She refused to be a failure, so she refused to give up on this team. That’s what I needed to get the Foxes off the ground.”

Wymack leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re the only one here who can succeed her.”

Neil exhaled sharply, barely managing, “I can’t captain them. I won’t.”

“This isn’t a democracy,” Wymack said. “You don’t get to vote on what you do or don’t want to do. I make the rules, and you get to deal.”

His voice was steady, unshakable. “And you are going to deal with it. You need this as much as they need you. Give me one good reason why you’d try to turn this down.”

Neil’s grip tightened around the bottle.

His stomach twisted.

His chest ached.

“I’m leaving.”

The words hung between them, thick and heavy.

Wymack’s expression barely shifted, but something in his gaze darkened. “What?”

Neil forced himself to stand his ground. “I can’t stay here and risk your safety. I talked with my uncle. I’m leaving by the end of the week.”

Silence.

Wymack didn’t even blink.

Then, slowly, he set the folder aside, exhaled through his nose, and rubbed a hand down his face.

“Jesus Christ, kid.”

Wymack didn’t say anything at first. He just sat there, rubbing his hand down his face like Neil had personally aged him ten years.

Neil waited for him to snap, for him to throw something, to call him an idiot, to demand an explanation—but he didn’t.

Instead, Wymack just sighed, long and slow, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Sit down, Neil.”

Neil didn’t want to. His entire body was coiled tight, like if he sat still for too long, the guilt would finally strangle him. But Wymack was staring at him, not like he was angry—like he was waiting.

So Neil sat.

Wymack studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. “You’re really going to do this, huh?”

“I have to,” Neil said, the words barely scraping past his throat.

Wymack huffed. “Bullshit.”

Neil’s hands curled into fists in his lap. “If I stay, I put all of you at risk. My father—” He swallowed hard. “My father won’t stop. He’ll keep coming for me. I cant put-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Wymack cut in, waving a hand. “I know you want us safe, I know you fear what he will do to us. What I don’t know is why you think that’s the reason you must leave.”

Neil stiffened.

Wymack’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. “You’re not just running because of him, are you?”

Neil’s chest felt tight. His fingers dug harder into his palms, his nails biting skin.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “After everything that’s happened this year—after Riko, after everything with Andrew—I should have left a long time ago.”

“Neil.” Wymack’s voice was sharper now, enough to make Neil flinch. “Stop it.”

“I can’t.” Neil exhaled shakily, his vision blurring for a second before he blinked it away. “Look at what’s happened because of me. Riko almost—” He clenched his jaw. “Andrew—” His throat closed up, the words refusing to come out.

Wymack didn’t fill the silence. He let it sit there, heavy between them.

Neil let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I should have stayed in England. I shouldn’t  have applied in the first place. I—”

“Enough.” Wymack’s voice was firm, cutting through Neil’s downward spiral like a blade.

Neil flinched again, shoulders curling in on themselves. But Wymack wasn’t yelling. His voice was still steady, calm, but unshakable.

Wymack leaned forward, arms braced on his knees as he looked at Neil head-on. “You think everything that happened this year is your fault?”

Neil didn’t answer.

Wymack nodded like he expected that. “Alright, let’s go down the list then. Riko? That bastard has been a problem long before you showed up. Kevin’s been looking over his shoulder for a year.” His jaw tensed for a split second before he forced himself to relax. “The Ravens would’ve found a way to come after us whether you were here or not.”

Neil swallowed hard.

“And Andrew?” Wymack sighed. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?”

Neil finally looked up.

Wymack was watching him carefully, reading him like a book. It was infuriating how easily he could do that.

Neil’s voice cracked when he said, “He nearly got raped because of me. And don’t get me started on Easthaven.”

Wymack gave him a look. “And that is not your fault either.”

Neil opened his mouth to argue, but Wymack held up a hand to stop him.

“Listen to me, Neil. Its. Not. Your. Fault. You are just a kid. Nothing was your fault.”

Neil clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue, wanted to say that if he had never come here, if he had never gotten close to Andrew, none of this would have happened—but the words wouldn’t come out.

Because deep down, he knew Wymack was right.

Wymack sighed and leaned back again, rubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus, kid. You really don’t think you deserve this, do you?”

Neil looked away. “I can’t stay.” he said, but the words weren’t as strong this time.

Wymack held his gaze. “You can.”

Neil shook his head.

“You can,” Wymack repeated. “And you should.”

Neil squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s not safe.”

“No, it’s not,” Wymack agreed. “It never was. But that doesn’t mean you have to do this alone.”

Neil inhaled sharply.

“We’ll figure this out,” Wymack said, voice steady. “But you don’t get to decide for us. You don’t get to throw yourself away because you think it’s easier.”

Neil couldn’t breathe.

Wymack reached over and gripped his shoulder, firm and solid, grounding him. “We want you here, Neil. Andrew wants you here.” His voice was softer now, almost gentle. “I want you here.”

Neil didn’t know how to answer Wymack, so he just stayed silent.

Wymack sighed, rubbing his temples. “I know you think this is for the better, but it’s not. I can’t legally make you stay so I can only hope you think over what I said. You can go now—tell me your decision by Friday.”

Neil nodded, standing up without a word. He left Wymack’s office and stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it with practiced ease, inhaling deeply as he leaned against the wall. The night air was cool, but it did little to clear the suffocating thoughts pressing in on him.

Did he really have to leave?

Maybe he could stop everything before it escalated. Maybe he could keep the Foxes out of it. Maybe he could stop more collateral damage.

But then, his mind went back to Thanksgiving.

Andrew’s sharp rejection when Neil first suggested going to the Hemmicks’ household. The tension in his voice when he said no.

Neil had insisted. It would be fine.

And it wasn’t.

Because by the end of the night, Andrew had nearly been assaulted. The signs had been there from the moment they arrived—the forced smiles, the uneasy silence. The way Luther’s eyes lingered just a second too long. But Neil, in his arrogance, had believed he could handle it. That they could handle it.

He was wrong.

Andrew had walked away that day with his control intact, but barely. Neil had seen it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his fingers clenched once before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Andrew didn’t acknowledge what had nearly happened. He never did. But Neil knew the truth. He had put Andrew in that situation.

Neil exhaled a stream of smoke, his fingers tightening around the cigarette.

Then, his thoughts shifted to the car wreck.

It wasn’t just his car that had been trashed—it was all of theirs. Matt’s truck, Allison’s Porshe , his own Jaguar, and worst of all, Andrew’s car.

The destruction hadn’t been random. It was targeted. Personal.

Neil could still see the words spray-painted across the mangled hood of Andrew’s car in violent red:

TRAITOR.

The Ravens’ fans hadn’t just been looking for revenge—they had been making a statement.

And the Foxes had paid the price for it.

Because of him.

Because he had never stopped to consider the consequences.

Neil had spent all this time telling himself he wasn’t like Riko, that he didn’t wield power with arrogance, that he didn’t make decisions expecting others to pay the cost.

But if he followed his own logic, wasn’t he just as reckless?

Wasn’t he just as arrogant?

He took another drag, the burn of nicotine doing nothing to quiet the war inside his head.

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to do.

Because running had always been his answer. But this time, it didn’t feel like an escape.

It felt like a mistake.

Neil’s phone rang. He glanced down and saw Emma’s name flashing on the screen. He sighed, knowing exactly why she was calling. He had barely had time to process everything himself, and now he had to explain it to her.

Still, he answered.

“Yeah?”

Emma didn’t waste time. “What the fuck, Neil?! Dad just told me that you want to come back to England. Do you feel like explaining, or should I just start screaming now?”

Neil pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling. “What’s there more to explain, Em?” he muttered. “Me staying here is dangerous for everyone. I have to come to England, and hopefully, Nathan follows me. Then we kill him.”

The silence on the other end stretched for a beat—too long. That meant Emma was thinking. And Emma thinking was never good for Neil’s arguments.

When she spoke again, her voice was sharp, accusing. “What about the team? What did they say about this?”

Neil scoffed. “They don’t know.”

That answer alone should have been enough to shut down this conversation, but Emma’s voice hardened. “And?”

Neil shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “And it’s not like they will lose something valuable—”

“Don’t.”

The sharpness in her tone cut him off completely.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Neil.”

Neil swallowed. She wasn’t just annoyed—she was furious.

Emma let out a breath, but it was shaky, and he could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up? Just like that? Because Nathan the bastrad was released from prison?”

Neil felt his frustration spike. “I’m not giving up. I’m making the smart decision.”

“Bullshit.”

Neil clenched his jaw. “Emma—”

“No, don’t ‘Emma’ me,” she snapped. “Do you not remember who you are?! You are a Hatford, dammit! If anyone has power, it’s us! The Hatfords! We will catch him in his own web, just like we’ve done with every other bastard who’s crossed our family.”

Neil stayed silent. He could hear her breathing hard, like she wanted to shake some sense into him through the phone.

Finally, he muttered, “I can’t risk his safety.”

Another pause. But this time, the shift in her voice was different. Softer. More knowing.

“So that’s why.”

Neil gritted his teeth, already regretting his choice of words. “Forget it.”

“No, I won’t forget it.” Emma’s voice sharpened again, but there was something less angry, more exasperated underneath it now. “You’re scared you’ll lose him.”

Neil froze.

A flicker of something he didn’t want to name twisted in his chest.

Emma sighed. “God, you are such an idiot.”

Neil’s grip on the cigarette tightened. “Thanks, Em. Great pep talk.”

“No, shut up and actually listen to me for once.” Emma’s voice was firm, unwavering. “This is Andrew we’re talking about. Andrew. Do you really think he needs you to protect him?”

Neil’s lips parted, but Emma didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“He knows how to take care of himself, and he sure as hell won’t appreciate you running back to England just because you’re scared for him.”

Neil closed his eyes, his chest tightening.

“Have you even considered how he’ll feel when you leave?” Emma pressed, her voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Or was the only thing on your mind your own peace?”

Neil swallowed hard, a sick feeling curling in his stomach.

Because the truth was—he hadn’t thought about that.

He had spent so much time convincing himself that leaving was the only way to keep Andrew safe, the only way to stop Nathan before he could reach him.

But Emma was right.

Andrew wasn’t someone who needed to be saved.

And running wasn’t the same as protecting.

Neil took a slow drag from his cigarette, staring up at the dark sky. His mind felt like a storm, thoughts clashing and breaking apart, leaving only the heavy, suffocating weight of doubt.

“I don’t know what to do, Em.”

For once, Emma didn’t mock him. She didn’t push. She just sighed.

“Then figure it out.”

Neil closed his eyes, gripping the phone like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“But don’t make the mistake of thinking you have to do it alone.”

Neil needed time alone to think about everything.

He was still amazed—and a little frustrated—by how much control his father still had over him. Nathan was miles away, yet the mere thought of him sent Neil’s mind spiraling, leaving him restless and on edge. He clenched his jaw, shaking the thought off.

Neil wanted to go somewhere quiet, someplace where he could smoke in silence, let the burn of nicotine settle the storm in his chest. But first, he needed to head back to the dorm—change, shower, and grab his car.

The drive would help, too.

By the time he got to Fox Tower, the halls were quiet. He stepped into his dorm and let out a breath when he saw that Andrew wasn’t there. Good. He didn’t need a conversation, not right now.

Neil took a long, hot shower, scrubbing away the tension clinging to his muscles. The steam did little to clear his mind, but at least it felt grounding. Once he was dressed, he grabbed his car keys and headed out.

Unfortunately, his luck ran out.

As soon as he stepped outside, he ran straight into Seth.

Seth’s gaze flicked over him, sharp as always. Neil didn’t know what gave him away—the set of his shoulders, the distant look in his eyes—but Seth’s expression shifted.

“You’re acting weird,” Seth said bluntly. “Where are you going?”

Neil sighed, rolling his shoulders like he could shake off the weight pressing down on him. “I don’t know. I just want to go somewhere quiet.”

Seth didn’t miss a beat. “I know a spot.”

Neil hesitated. It wasn’t like he had anywhere specific in mind, and if Seth knew a place, why not?

“…Fine.”

They took Neil’s car.

Seth gave him vague directions, but Neil quickly recognized the route. It wasn’t long before realization settled in, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

Of course, it had to be here.

The cliff.

The same place Neil and Andrew had come that night.

The night Neil had told Andrew about Henry.

Neil didn’t comment on it. If Seth noticed the coincidence, he didn’t say anything either.

The car rolled to a stop near the edge, the city lights glowing below them in the distance. It was quiet, just like Neil had wanted. The only sounds were the hum of the wind and the faint rustling of trees.

Without a word, they both stayed inside the car.

Neil pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag. The smoke curled lazily around him before he exhaled out the window.

Seth shifted beside him. “Pass me one?”

Neil raised an eyebrow but tossed him the pack.

Seth took one, lit it, and inhaled deeply before leaning back against the seat. “Didn’t peg you for the type to go brooding in the middle of nowhere.”

Neil smirked slightly, taking another drag. “Didn’t peg you for the type to have a favorite cliff.”

Seth let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. We all have our vices.”

The conversation faded after that.

And Neil was okay with the silence, but Seth had other plans. He exhaled a long stream of smoke before speaking. “By the way, the team wanted to throw you a late birthday party.”

Neil turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Seth nodded. “Yeah. Dan and Matt were all for it. Allison wanted to go big, get the whole damn campus involved. Nicky was ready to start planning party games.” He snorted. “But Andrew and Renee shut it down.”

Neil blinked. “Andrew said no?”

Seth smirked. “Obviously. You think he’d let a bunch of people ambush you with balloons and cake?” He took another drag. “Renee agreed it wasn’t a good idea. Said you wouldn’t want that kind of attention.”

Neil felt something loosen in his chest.

They were right.

He didn’t want it.

He didn’t need reminders of birthdays that had never mattered, of years spent running, of years spent being someone who didn’t even exist on paper.

He was glad Andrew and Renee had shut it down.

“Good,” Neil said simply, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. “I don’t like to celebrate my birthday.”

Seth hummed. “Yeah, I figured. But still, they wanted to do something for you.” He glanced over, sharp eyes assessing Neil’s profile. “You’re more important to us than you think.”

Neil stared ahead at the dark expanse of land stretching beyond the cliff, his fingers tightening around his cigarette.

“I’m leaving,” Neil admitted, his voice quieter than before. “Going back to England.”

Seth stilled.

The air shifted, thickening with something heavy, suffocating. Even the distant hum of the wind felt muted against the weight of those words.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then Seth laughed.

A sharp, hollow sound—bitter, disbelieving.

“Yeah, no.” His smirk was sharp, but his eyes weren’t amused. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all day.”

Neil shot him a look. “I’m serious.”

Seth’s smirk vanished. His jaw clenched, the muscle twitching.

His hands curled into fists. “And you think this is the answer?”

Neil dragged a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. “I think it’s the only way to keep you all safe.”

Seth let out a breath, shaking his head before scoffing, louder this time.

“Bullshit.”

Neil’s fingers tightened around his cigarette, irritation sparking in his chest. “Seth—”

“No, shut the fuck up.”

Neil’s breath caught in his throat at the sheer force in Seth’s voice.

Seth turned toward him fully, anger rolling off him in waves. “You think running away fixes things?” His voice cracked with something that wasn’t just anger—it was hurt. “You think going back to England makes everything better? That we’ll just—forget you?”

Neil’s jaw locked. “It’s not like that.”

Seth’s laugh this time was sharper, more broken. “Then what the hell is it like?”

Neil didn’t answer.

Seth’s breath shuddered, like he was trying to keep himself in check, but his eyes were too wild, too sharp to hide the storm raging inside him. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re making excuses.”

His next words hit like a punch.

“You don’t want to stay because you’re scared.”

Neil’s hands curled into fists. “I’m not scared.”

“You’re a liar.”

Neil snapped his head toward him, his stare icy, defensive, warning.

Seth didn’t flinch.

“You’re scared because for the first time in your life, people give a shit about you.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow, it was worse. “And you don’t know how to handle it.”

Neil’s throat tightened. He forced himself to look away, back toward the empty stretch of darkness beyond the cliff’s edge.

Because Seth was right.

And Neil hated that he was right.

Seth let out a slow, uneven breath, rubbing a hand down his face. His next words were softer, but they held the weight of something unshakable.

“You saved me, Neil.”

Neil froze.

Seth didn’t give him time to recover. “You pulled my ass out of the worst downward spiral of my life. You kept me from throwing everything away.” His voice broke, just slightly, before he pushed forward. “And it wasn’t just me—you made all of us closer. Whether you meant to or not. You change the team’s dynamic for better. You showed us how to change ourself, how to learn from past mistakes. You made us family.”

Neil stared at the ground, his chest tight, suffocating, burning.

Seth swallowed, gripping the edge of his seat like it was the only thing holding him together.

“We can’t lose you.”

It wasn’t a plea.

It was a fact.

Neil didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. Wymack. Emma. Seth. They all wanted him to stay. Even Stuart was hesitant. And maybe they were right. He didn’t need to run. He could stay and protect them, because he was Neil Hatford and Neil Hatford is ready to do everything for his family.

He was staying.

Chapter Text

Neil’s phone buzzed against the table, the vibration breaking the stillness of the room.

He barely glanced at it as he stirred the contents of his cup, expecting another pointless notification. But when he finally looked at the screen, the air stilled around him.

Unknown Number: 48

Neil’s fingers clenched around the phone, pulse stuttering for just a second.

A countdown.

It had to be. And Neil wasn’t dump, it was obvious from who it was. None other than his sperm donor

His first instinct was to dismiss it, to shove the phone back into his pocket and pretend it was meaningless. But Neil knew better. His father never did meaningless.

His mind raced. Forty-eight until what? Until he made his move? Until someone else was dragged into this mess? Until Neil was expected to be back under his father’s control?

Breathe.

Neil inhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax his grip on the phone. He had survived this long by staying level-headed. Panicking wouldn’t get him anywhere—it never had.

Still, the knowledge settled in his chest like a slow-burning acid.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and forced himself to move on.

Later that evening, Neil was in the kitchen, making himself something to eat. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the act of cooking was something to do. Something normal. Something that kept his hands busy so his mind wouldn’t spiral.

He had just finished slicing some vegetables when Nicky walked in, buzzing with energy.

"Okay, tell me why the cutest guy I’ve ever seen in my life was at the café today," Nicky started, hopping onto the counter with zero regard for hygiene. "Like, I swear to God, he had these glasses that made him look all intellectual and mysterious. And don’t even get me started on his hands—"

Neil let him talk.

He listened—half-distracted, half-amused—as Nicky dramatically recounted every detail about the stranger he had definitely fallen in love with over the span of five minutes.

For a brief moment, Neil forgot about the message.

Forgot about 48. About his father.

He even smirked at one of Nicky’s more ridiculous descriptions.

Then his phone buzzed again.

Neil didn’t want to look.

But he did.

Unknown Number: 47

His stomach dropped. His breath hitched, but only for a second. Then he schooled his expression, shoving his phone back into his pocket like nothing had happened.

But the food in front of him suddenly felt unappetizing.

Nicky, oblivious, was still rambling.

Neil barely heard him.

The following days were hell.

He was on edge, hyperaware of every shadow, every movement, every possible threat. He kept checking his phone, waiting for the next number to come in, another reminder that something was coming.

Even Kevin noticed.

And Kevin was too self-absorbed to notice anything outside of Exy.

At first, Kevin didn’t say anything. He just watched. Like he was trying to figure out why Neil wasn’t biting back with the usual sharp, easy retorts.

Then, after practice, Kevin finally said it.

“You’re playing like shit.”

Neil glared at him. “Thanks, Kevin. Always great to hear your words of encouragement.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. “What’s wrong with you?”

Neil opened his mouth, ready to deflect, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say?

Oh, nothing, just counting down to whatever hell my father has planned for me. No big deal.

Instead, he shoved his gear into his bag and muttered, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Kevin didn’t look convinced. But for once, he didn’t push.

By Wednesday, Neil had perfected the art of looking normal while waiting for the next number to hit his phone.

Then the news broke. Kengo Moriyama had collapsed during a board meeting. The second Wymack heard it over the news, he messaged the team.

Wymack: Heads up, Moriyama Sr. is in the hospital. Keep your heads down.

Neil barely reacted to the message, already expecting the media frenzy that would follow. And he was right. Before Kengo was even checked in, reporters were shoving microphones in Riko’s face.

If Neil didn’t hate Riko so much, he’d almost be disgusted by how eager the media was to exploit it.

He spent his break in the library, scrolling through news clips on one of the old computers.

Riko, as always, played the role of the perfect Moriyama heir. He tolerated most of their questions with calm grace, answering like he had been preparing for this moment his whole life.

But then someone asked the one question that shattered the act.

“Are you heading to the hospital to see him?”

For a split second—a fraction of a second—Riko’s mask slipped. The reporters knew full well that Riko and Kengo were estranged. But what they didn’t understand was the depth of that estrangement.

Neil did.

The Moriyama family had no use for second born sons. The second Riko was born, he had been discarded. Shipped off to Tetsuji Moriyama before he could even walk. Raised to be an asset, not a son.

Neil knew that bitterness. Knew what it was like to be considered expendable.

He leaned back in his chair, watching as Riko regained his composure, lips curling into that same practiced, elegant smile.

Neil clicked the video off.

The library suddenly felt too small so he stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he left, but then his phone buzzed. He already knew what it was before he looked.

Unknown Number: 39 .

Neil’s replacement gear arrived Thursday, neatly packed and waiting for him in Fox Tower. It felt almost surreal—like an unspoken confirmation that he was still here. Still playing. Still a Fox.

Funny, considering he had nearly walked away just days ago.

But he was still here. Still pretending that thought had never crossed his mind.

Thankfully, neither Wymack nor Seth had told the team about his brief moment of cowardice. He didn’t need more lectures. The ones he’d already gotten were enough to last a lifetime.

Friday morning, the Foxes were on the bus before the sun even rose.

The away game in Arkansas meant an all-day drive, something Neil barely had the patience for. Wymack, as usual, refused to hire a driver, which meant he was behind the wheel and somehow managing to tune out the chaos behind him.

They stopped at rest stops every four hours, just long enough to stretch and not long enough to make the trip feel any shorter.

Neil had burned through his homework and studying early on, leaving him with too much time to think.

He got halfway through his book before he gave up on that too.

He already knew SUA’s line inside and out, so reviewing it was pointless. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but he was definitely tired of sitting still.

Kevin and Nicky were fast asleep. Andrew sat by the window, silent, unmoving, staring at nothing. Neil wanted to snug in his warm, but decided against it. Aaron had his headphones in, lost in his own world.

Neil gave up on them as a source of entertainment and stood, stretching out his stiff limbs before heading toward the front of the bus.

The upperclassmen were deep in a lively conversation, voices animated, gestures exaggerated.

They didn’t ask why he’d strayed from his usual seat. They just absorbed him into their group without hesitation. It didn’t make the ride feel shorter, but it was significantly less mind-numbing.

It was going to be a long night.

They arrived around six central time, with two hours before serve.

Dinner was a local buffet, where the team inhaled enough calories to keep them going through the game. Afterward, they had just enough time to walk slow laps around SUA’s court, stretching their legs, shaking off the stiffness from the bus.

When the gates finally opened and the crowd started filtering in, Wymack sent the Foxes off to get ready.

SUA didn’t play with the same speed or aggression as UT or Belmonte, but they were the most communicative team Neil had faced.

They were constantly shouting across the court, calling openings, tracking marks—every single player knew exactly where the others were at all times.

They put up a fight, but they weren’t desperate about it. SUA had already lost to both UT and Belmonte. Winning against the Foxes wouldn’t save them.

By halftime, news from the other match had come in:

UT had slaughtered Belmonte.

That meant UT would proceed to the death match. The Foxes, knowing one of their rivals was already knocked out, got the second wind they needed.

The second half was theirs. They dominated the court, secured a comfortable win, and took their time washing up afterward.

By eleven, they were back on the bus.

Neil powered on his phone.

A message was waiting for him.

Unknown Number: 38 .

Neil stared at it.

The number sat there, silent but heavy.

He typed out a response.

Go to hell.

His thumb hovered over the send button.

Then, with a sharp breath, he deleted it. He will wait to said it to his father in real life.

A week without a match was a blessing.

Practice didn’t stop—Wymack would sooner drop dead than let them slack off—but without a looming game to worry about, the exhaustion that usually dragged at their limbs was less suffocating. They had time to breathe. Time to recover.

And, for Neil, time to think.

Which was both a gift and a curse. Because Monday started with a change.

Neil had to pack up and switch rooms.

The official reason? A more balanced team dynamic. The real reason? So he and Andrew could spend more time together without raising suspicion.

He, Nicky, and Aaron were swapping. Now, Neil was rooming with Andrew and Kevin. Matt and Seth got Nicky and Aaron.

Neil wasn’t bother by the switch itself. But the fact that no one questioned it?

That was the real surprise.

At least, not in front of him, Andrew, or Aaron.

The team could put two and two together when it mattered, and yet, not a single word was said about why Andrew and Kevin suddenly needed a new roommate.

Maybe it was because the arrangement made some level of sense.

Nicky and Aaron have been getting closer to Matt and Seth. Andrew and Kevin had their own understanding.

Or maybe—just maybe—the others had noticed something between Neil and Andrew but chose not to say anything.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Because now, Neil was here.

With Andrew.

And that was the only thing that made this switch worth it.

Then came Tuesday. The real shitstorm.

Kengo Moriyama was released from the hospital.

Neil had been half-hoping the old man would take longer to recover. Not that he particularly cared about Kengo’s well-being—far from it. But as long as Kengo was hospitalized, Riko had been tied down, distracted.

Now, that distraction was gone.

Kengo was still seen as just another wealthy businessman to the public. If he had been anyone else, he probably would have made it home without question, without cameras flashing in his face.

But he wasn’t anyone else.

He was Riko’s father.

So, of course, there were reporters waiting outside his estate, shoving microphones forward the moment he appeared.

Neil had seen the footage. Kengo barely acknowledged the cameras, his face a mask of stone-cold indifference.

He didn’t answer their questions. Didn’t spare them so much as a glance. He let his assistants carve a path for him, brushing past the chaos with the ease of someone who knew he had nothing to fear.

Neil watched the clip twice.

Then he shut the screen off.

On Wednesday Andrew had his weekly session with Betsy Dobson, which meant Neil had to drive Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron back to Fox Tower in his car.

Neil was already sitting behind the wheel, engine running, waiting for everyone to pile in. Kevin was silent and brooding in the front seat, scrolling through notes on his phone. Nicky had thrown himself into the back and was rambling about something stupid, but Neil wasn’t really listening.

He glanced in the rearview mirror.

Aaron was missing.

Neil frowned. “Where’s Aaron?”

Nicky waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, yeah. He wanted to switch the session since he has a date with Kate on Friday, so he went with Andrew today.”

Neil nodded and drive away to the dorms.

Thursday was easy. Unusual.

Since Wymack was caught up with something that Neil didn’t care enough to remember, afternoon practice was cut short.

Which meant time. Time with Andrew.

They ordered food—something greasy, terrible, perfect. They ate then stretched out on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, legs tangled together like it was nothing.

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. They just existed, together.

Andrew let Neil pick the movie, so he chose one of Emma’s favorites. Some over-the-top, ridiculous comedy that made Neil roll his eyes every five minutes. But Andrew didn’t complain.

Maybe because Neil’s laughter was real.

Maybe because for once, things were quiet.

Maybe because Andrew needed this, too.

At some point, Neil turned his head, pressing his face into Andrew’s shoulder, breathing him in. Andrew shifted slightly, not pushing him away, not telling him to move.

Just let him stay.

Neil’s eyes had started drifting shut when the door suddenly swung open.

Kevin stood there.

Frozen.

His eyes locked onto them, taking in the sight of Neil curled into Andrew, Andrew resting against Neil like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For a second, Kevin looked like he was about to drop dead on the spot.

Neil blinked at him, completely unbothered. “Problem?”

Kevin’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Then, without a single word, he shut the door.

The next time he came back was after Andrew went out to the store to get himself ice cream. Neil smirked to himself. He was pretty sure Kevin had waited just for this moment.

Andrew, Neil, Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin had planned a trip to Columbia on Friday, something to break the routine and give them a breather from the stress of practice and upcoming games. Unfortunately, Aaron’s date with Kate got in the way, forcing them to cancel their plans. Nicky had complained about it, dramatically lamenting how he had to suffer just because Aaron had a love life, but there wasn’t much else to be done. Kevin hadn’t cared either way, too absorbed in his own training schedule to be bothered. In the end, no one fought Aaron on it, and the trip was scrapped.

That didn’t stop Neil and Andrew.

They still went to Columbia, just without the others and without setting foot anywhere near Eden’s. Leaving Nicky, Kevin, and Aaron under Renee’s supervision was easy enough—she had a way of keeping them in line without much effort, and Andrew trusted her to handle them. With that settled, he and Neil took the Maserati and drove off, escaping for the night with no real plan in mind.

-

The city was busy, filled with its usual noise and movement, but neither of them minded. They walked aimlessly, stopping at a few places that caught their interest, but mostly just enjoying the fact that they weren’t expected to be anywhere or do anything. For once, there were no practices, no games, no countdowns ticking away in Neil’s mind. They ate at a small, quiet restaurant on the outskirts of downtown, something casual and forgettable, but good enough to keep them from getting hungry later. The conversation was light, and for the most part, they didn’t talk about the things waiting for them back at Palmetto.

At one point, as they wandered through the quieter streets, Neil felt Andrew’s gaze on him. He turned his head, catching the way Andrew was studying him—not suspicious or wary, but simply watching. Raising an eyebrow, he smirked slightly. “What?”

Andrew didn’t blink or look away. “You look happy.”

Neil thought about denying it, brushing it off with something sarcastic, but for once, he didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he let himself have this. There were too many things in his life that had been stolen from him, too many moments where he had to be on guard, waiting for something to go wrong. But here, in this brief sliver of time, nothing else mattered.

Monday would come soon enough, bringing with it all the responsibilities and dangers he couldn’t ignore. For now, he wasn’t running, wasn’t fighting, wasn’t calculating his next move. He was just here with Andrew, enjoying each other presence.

Neil and Andrew returned to the cousins’ house late that night, the drive back quiet but comfortable. Neither of them spoke much, but they didn’t need to. The night had been a rare moment of normalcy, and neither of them was ready to break the calm silence that lingered between them.

As soon as they stepped inside, Andrew headed toward the bathroom. He didn’t say anything, but Neil knew his routine well enough to know he was going for a shower.

Neil hesitated for a second before following.

Andrew had just turned on the water when Neil leaned against the doorway, naked, watching him. He didn’t say anything at first, just tilted his head slightly, considering. Then, casually, he said, “Move over.”

Andrew turned, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Neil shrugged. “You heard me.”

Andrew studied him for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether this was worth entertaining. Then, without a word, he stepped aside, making space under the spray.

That was how they found themselves here.

The water was hot, steam curling around them as it drowned out the world outside. Neil let himself relax, his muscles slowly unwinding as the heat seeped into his skin. The air between them was charged but unhurried, like neither of them was in any rush to finish their shower.

Then, suddenly, Andrew moved.

Neil barely had time to process it before he felt lips on his neck, soft and deliberate. The sensation sent a slow, shuddering breath through him.

Andrew’s mouth traced a path downward, pressing firm, deliberate kisses against his collarbones.

Neil exhaled, his head tipping slightly to the side in silent invitation. He felt Andrew’s fingers ghost over his skin, steady, unhurried, like he was mapping him out all over again.

Neil was already losing himself in it, in the way Andrew’s lips dragged slowly along his collarbones, in the way fingertips ghosted over his ribs, tracing the lines of old scars like they were something worth remembering.

Then, without warning, Andrew moved.

He gripped Neil’s wrist, shifting him effortlessly until they were chest to chest, close enough that Neil could feel the steady rhythm of Andrew’s breathing.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Andrew kissed him.

It was slow, not rushed, not hesitant—just deliberate. Firm pressure, warm lips, a slow tilt of his head as he deepened it, pulling Neil in like there was no other place he should be.

Neil melted into it, his hands gripping Andrew’s arms, anchoring himself as heat spread through his veins, hotter than the water cascading down their backs.

They kissed for a while, unrushed, drowning in each other.

Then Andrew pulled back, just enough to catch Neil’s gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on Neil’s hips tightened slightly, as if solidifying a decision.

"Bedroom," Andrew murmured, voice rougher than usual.

Neil barely had time to register the shift before Andrew’s hands were on him—one arm hooked under his legs, the other steadying his back.

For a second, Neil considered protesting—he could walk just fine, thank you very much—but the words never left his mouth. Instead, he let himself be carried, let himself be handled for once, because this was Andrew.

And with Andrew, he didn’t have to be on guard.

Didn’t have to fight for control.

Didn’t have to run.

The shower was left behind, water still steaming against the tile as Andrew stepped into the hallway, carrying him with effortless ease.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them.

The door had barely shut before Andrew pushed Neil backward, sending him sprawling onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath him, and before he could catch his breath, Andrew was on him, pressing him down with the solid weight of his body.

Their lips crashed together, a mix of heat, urgency, and something deeper neither of them would name. Neil let himself sink into it, his fingers threading into wet blond hair, tugging just enough to earn a sharp inhale against his mouth. Andrew retaliated by pressing harder, pinning Neil in place, his hands mapping out every inch of skin with slow, deliberate touches.

Neil arched under him, his own hands restless, eager, exploring.

Then—

His phone buzzed.

The sound cut through the haze, short and sharp, pulling Neil back to reality just enough to register it.

Andrew stilled, his breath warm against Neil’s cheek.

Neil ignored it.

Or at least, he tried to.

But Andrew pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he flicked a glance toward the phone abandoned on the nightstand.

“Aren’t you going to check that?”

Neil’s fingers hovered over the phone for a second before he pulled his hand back, shrugging like it was nothing. “If it’s not a call, it’s not urgent.”

The words came easily, too easily.

But Andrew knew him better than that.

Neil’s phone barely ever rang, and when it did, it was from one of a very small, very specific list of people.

And Neil? He always answered his friends. So if he wasn’t checking now, if he was deliberately ignoring it—

Andrew’s grip on Neil’s side tightened slightly, just for a second. He didn’t say anything right away, but his silence was its own kind of demand.

Neil felt the weight of it, pressing in like a slow-building storm. Because they both knew—whoever was texting him wasn’t a friend. And Andrew wasn’t the type to let things go unanswered.

He didn’t reach for the phone, didn’t push Neil aside, didn’t even raise his voice. But his presence shifted- the subtle, dangerous kind of stillness that meant he was done waiting.

“Who is it?”

Neil exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to relax under Andrew’s weight. He had already let the message interrupt them more than it should have. He should brush it off, move on, but Andrew was staring at him, and Andrew wasn’t stupid.

“No one important,” Neil said.

Andrew’s fingers dug in slightly where they rested against Neil’s ribs, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him that Andrew didn’t do bullshit.

“Try again.”

Neil tilted his head, giving Andrew his most unimpressed look. “Are you interrogating me?”

Andrew didn’t blink. “Yes.”

Neil sighed and let his head drop back against the pillow. “It doesn’t matter.”

Andrew’s gaze darkened.

He reached past Neil in one smooth movement, snatching the phone off the nightstand before Neil could stop him.

Neil reacted instantly, reaching for it, but Andrew just pushed him back down, holding the phone just out of reach.

“Andrew.”

“Neil.”

They stared at each other, neither backing down.

Andrew tilted the phone toward himself, screen glowing in the dim light. His eyes flicked over the message, and something in his expression shifted.

Unknow number: 34

Andrew stared at the screen, shoulders tense, jaw tight. The number sat there, glowing in the dim light, mocking them both.

His grip on the phone tightened. “What the hell is this?” His voice was flat, controlled, but Neil knew better than to mistake that for indifference.

Neil pushed himself up onto his elbows, reaching for the phone, but Andrew didn’t let him. Instead, he tilted it away, out of reach, his gaze locked onto Neil’s face like he was picking him apart, piece by piece.

Neil sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, already exhausted by the conversation before it even started. “It’s nothing.”

Andrew’s fingers twitched against the phone. “Junkie.”

Neil exhaled through his nose, picking his words carefully. “It’s a countdown.”

Andrew flicked his eyes back to the message, scanning it again like the meaning would change. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the phone before he turned his stare back to Neil.

“From who?”

Neil hesitated.

The pause was less than a second, but Andrew caught it immediately. His grip on the phone tightened. His eyes, already sharp, went lethal.

“Rabbit.”

Neil clenched his jaw, knowing there was no point in lying. “It’s from an unknown number. But we both know who it’s from.”

Andrew didn’t blink. “Your father.”

The weight of those words settled between them like a live wire. Neil gave the smallest nod. Andrew flipped the phone once in his hand before tossing it onto the bed like it burned him.

His voice was low, steady. Too steady. “And when were you planning to tell me about this?”

Neil sat up fully, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t.”

Andrew’s jaw ticked. His stare was unrelenting. “Why?”

Neil let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Because it’s not important.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered. Something dark passed behind them. His fingers flexed once, like he was physically restraining himself from reacting.

Then, just like that, he moved.

One second, he was still. The next, he was shoving Neil back onto the bed, pinning him down with one firm hand pressed against his chest.

Neil barely had time to react before Andrew leaned in, voice low, sharp, and edged with something dangerous.

“Not important?”

Neil didn’t look away. “No.”

Andrew’s fingers curled slightly into Neils chest, not in anger, not in threat—just a grounding point. But his eyes… his eyes were fire.

“How long?”

Neil swallowed. “A week or so.”

Andrew let out a slow, measured breath through his nose. His grip tightened. He wasn’t mad because Neil was in danger. He was mad because Neil had kept it from him. Because Neil had lied and Andrew Minyard never took lies lightly.

Andrew didn’t move. He still had one hand pressed against Neil’s chest, pinning him in place—not with force, but with a quiet, undeniable weight. His breathing was steady, his expression unreadable.

Neil tried to turn his head away, to pull back from the suffocating intensity of Andrew’s gaze, but Andrew didn’t let him. “You’re an idiot,” Andrew said, voice flat, neutral in a way that only made it sharper. “And a liar.”

Neil scoffed and pushed at Andrew’s wrist, but he didn’t move. “That’s not new information.”

Andrew’s fingers curled slightly against the fabric of Neil’s shirt. “Then stop pretending like I don’t notice.” His voice wasn’t sharp or mocking, just steady, like he was stating an irrefutable fact. “You think this doesn’t matter? You think you don’t matter?”

Neil huffed out a humorless laugh, shifting beneath Andrew’s weight. “I know I don’t.”

Andrew’s grip tightened. “Wrong.”

Neil shook his head, his frustration bubbling up, clawing at the back of his throat. “I’m not wrong, Andrew. I know exactly what I am.” His voice sharpened, raw and bitter. “A liability. A fucking disaster. A problem waiting to happen. And if you weren’t so damn stubborn, you’d see that too.”

Andrew’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it hardened. “I already see it. And I still don’t care.”

Neil let out a harsh breath, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribs like it wanted to claw its way out. “You should.” His voice wavered, but he forced himself to keep going. “Because I ruin everything I touch. Every person I let get too close—” He swallowed, voice breaking around the words. “They pay for it. Every single time.”

Andrew remained unmoving, unshaken. His eyes stayed locked on Neil’s face, watching every tiny movement, every microexpression, every flicker of doubt that Neil didn’t want to show but couldn’t quite hide.

“You think I don’t know that?” Andrew’s voice was steady, even as something dark flickered behind his eyes. “You think I haven’t already calculated every possible way you could fuck this up?”

Neil snapped his head up, glaring. “Then why are you still here?”

Andrew’s jaw ticked.

Neil took his silence as an opening and pushed harder. “You should’ve let me leave. You should’ve let me run. If I left when I had the chance—”

“Shut up.”

The words weren’t loud, but they hit like a gunshot.

Neil clenched his jaw, his whole body tense, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Andrew leaned in closer, their faces inches apart, his weight still pushing Neil into the mattress. “You think this is about danger?”

Neil held his glare. “It is.”

Andrew scoffed, shaking his head once. “No, it’s about you being a coward.”

Neil flinched.

He could handle anger. He could handle threats. He could handle violence, loss, pain.

But Andrew calling him a coward? That cut deeper than anything else.

Andrew didn’t stop. “You don’t care about getting us hurt. You care that we’d still choose you anyway.”

Neil felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to fight back, wanted to throw it in Andrew’s face, but the words lodged in his throat, tangled in the mess of every fear he refused to acknowledge.

Because Andrew was right.

It wasn’t just about the danger.

It was about the fact that, despite everything, they still stayed.

Despite every mistake, every risk, every warning sign, Andrew was still here.

And Neil didn’t know how to live with that.

His breath hitched as his body betrayed him, his chest rising and falling too fast, his vision blurring at the edges. The walls around his mind were cracking, splintering, breaking open in a way he didn’t know how to stop.

He turned his head away, gripping at the sheets beneath him like they could anchor him back to reality, but Andrew wasn’t done.

His hand moved, no longer pinning Neil down, but instead threading into his hair, steady, grounding. He didn’t pull, didn’t force, just held.

“I’m here,” Andrew said, voice softer now, but still unyielding. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

The weight of those words hit like a free fall.

For so long, every decision in Neil’s life had been stolen from him. He had always been forced to run, to hide, to choose survival over everything else. He had always told himself that the second someone got too close, he’d push them away before they could get hurt, before they could choose him.

But Andrew wasn’t giving him that option.

Andrew had already made his choice.

Neil squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. His defenses were gone. His body trembled, a sharp, unsteady breath shuddering out of him, and this time, he couldn’t stop it.

His breath hitched as the tears burned hot down his face, his body trembling as he let out a choked, ragged breath. He pressed his face against Andrew’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut like that could stop it, like maybe if he held still enough, it wouldn’t be real. But it was. Every sharp, suffocating second of it was real.

Andrew didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to force Neil to stop, didn’t tell him to breathe, didn’t offer meaningless reassurances. He just stayed there, letting Neil fall apart without fear of being left behind.

Neil’s fingers curled into Andrews bare chest. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely more than a whisper, cracked and raw from holding everything in for too long.

"I’m not scared of him."

Andrew didn’t move, didn’t question it. He just waited, giving Neil the space to get the words out.

Neil swallowed hard, his breath still unsteady. “I don’t care what he does to me. I never have. I never will.” The words came out broken, but they were true. His father had spent years trying to carve the fear into him, but Neil had ripped it out and left it behind. He had already died once, in every way that mattered. There was nothing Nathan Wesninski could do to him that hadn’t already been done.

But that wasn’t what terrified him.

Neil’s grip tightened, his next breath shuddering as the words clawed their way up.

“I’m scared of what he’ll do to them.” His voice wavered, fragile in a way he hated, but he couldn’t stop now. “To Wymack. To Abby. To the team.” His throat tightened, and the last words came out almost too quiet to hear. “To you.”

Andrew’s fingers tightened in his hair, just for a second. It was brief, a flicker of reaction, but it was enough.

Neil let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead harder against Andrew’s shoulder, as if he could somehow disappear into the space between them. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t watch him destroy the only people who have ever mattered. I can’t—” His voice broke completely, and he sucked in a ragged breath, teetering on the edge of panic.

Then Andrew’s arms tightened around him, cutting through the spiral like a knife.

“He won’t.”

Two words. Simple. Certain.

Neil squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body still trembling, but Andrew’s grip was unshakable, immovable, real.

Chapter Text

Neil had survived more than a few hectic weeks growing up, but the week leading up to the Foxes' first death match was enough to rattle even him.

The entire team was on edge, their stress bleeding into every conversation, every practice, every moment they spent together. It didn’t matter how much they pretended otherwise—the panic was there, simmering beneath the surface.

Dan tried to play it cool, directing them through drills with her usual confidence, but Neil could hear the strain in her voice. Every command was a little sharper, every adjustment a little more tense. It was the kind of pressure that couldn’t be ignored, and no matter how much Dan tried to carry it alone, the rest of them felt it.

Kevin was a nightmare.

Every practice was brutal, filled with screaming and criticism as he pushed them harder and harder. It didn’t matter that they were already running on empty—Kevin wouldn’t let up. He needed this win. He needed to prove that Palmetto was worth something, that they weren’t just a team full of broken players waiting to lose.

Luckily, Seth was able to shut him up a few times before he went too far. Even though Seth himself was just as angsty, at least he wasn’t screaming at everyone in sight.

Matt, usually the steady one, was starting to fray at the edges. He kept his act together better than most, but by midweek, he was restless and distracted, his nerves showing in the way he couldn’t sit still. Even Renee, the closest thing to an unshakable force they had, was feeling it.

She still smiled, still offered words of encouragement, still made sure everyone had someone to lean on. But Neil could tell. She was tired.

It was more obvious when it was just the three of them—him, Andrew, and Renee. When they walked laps together during breaks, she barely spoke, her usual ease dimmed by something else. She never admitted to being exhausted, never let herself show weakness, but Neil didn’t have to ask.

If he did, she’d just force another reassuring smile, and Neil knew better than to make her waste the energy.

But it wasn’t just the Foxes draining her.

It took Neil a couple of days to notice. At first, he thought she was just distracted by the stress of the upcoming match. But then he started watching more closely—the way her phone was always in her hand, the way her mouth twitched slightly in frustration whenever she looked at it.

Then it clicked.

Jean.

Neil remembered Renee exchanging numbers with Jean during one of the banquets. If he had to guess, she was still texting him, still trying to reach him. But by the way her expression hardened every time she glanced at her phone, those conversations weren’t going well.

Neil didn’t ask about it.

She never brought it up.

And just like Renee never forced a smile for him, he wouldn’t force a conversation for her.

Some battles had to be fought alone. He knew from experience.

Ever since Andrew learned about the countdown, he had been clingier than usual.

It wasn’t obvious to most people. To the team, Andrew was the same as always—cold, sharp, untouchable. But to Neil? It was different.

Andrew was almost always at his side, whether they were in the dorm, on the bus, or walking between classes. It wasn’t suffocating, wasn’t restrictive—just constant. A hand against his wrist, a shoulder brushing his, an unspoken I’m here in every glance and quiet exchange.

At night, it was even more obvious.

Andrew always pulled Neil close, curling around him like a shield, like he could physically keep Neil anchored, safe, alive. Neil didn’t mind. He liked the way Andrew’s body felt solid against his, the way his breathing stayed steady and even. He liked the weight of Andrew’s arm slung over his waist, the warmth pressed against his back.

But what caught Neil off guard were the words.

Andrew had never been one for comforting reassurances, but now, when Neil was caught between exhaustion and wakefulness, Andrew would whisper to him. Soft things. Meaningless things. Everything and nothing all at once.

Neil didn’t tease him for it. Didn’t ask about it in the morning.

Because he knew.

Andrew was scared.

He played it cool, pretended like it didn’t matter, but Neil could feel it. It was in the way Andrew’s grip would tighten for just a second longer before letting go. In the way his eyes lingered on Neil like he was memorizing him, preparing for something inevitable.

And Neil as much as he liked clingy Andrew, as much as he wanted Andrew close, hated that Andrew felt like he had to do this. He didn’t want Andrew to think this was his job, that he was obligated to be at Neil’s side 24/7 just to protect him.

That wasn’t what this was supposed to be.

Neil turned his head slightly, looking at Andrew in the dim light of the dorm, watching the way his eyes stayed half-lidded but still awake.

“Andrew,” he murmured, voice quiet but certain.

Andrew’s fingers, which had been tracing slow, mindless patterns against his ribs, stilled. He didn’t answer, but Neil knew he was listening.

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

There was a pause.

Then, Andrew huffed against his skin. “Too bad.”

Neil smirked slightly, but the feeling didn’t last long. He shifted, turning onto his side to face Andrew fully, letting their foreheads rest close, almost touching. “You don’t have to do this.”

Andrew’s golden eyes flickered, scanning his face. “Do what?”

Neil didn’t blink. “Be here just because you think you have to.”

Andrew’s fingers twitched where they rested against Neil’s side, but his expression didn’t change. “Shut up.”

Neil exhaled softly, shaking his head. “I mean it. I want you here, but not because of him.”

Andrew’s jaw tensed. He didn’t move away, but his grip on Neil’s waist tightened for just a second. “I’m not here because of him.” His voice was calm, even. Too even. “I’m here because of you.”

Neil’s breath caught.

Andrew didn’t give him time to process it. He reached up, pressed his fingers against Neil’s cheek in a quiet demand for silence, then leaned in, letting their lips brush together for just a second before pulling back.

Neil had a thousand things he wanted to say, but he didn’t need to say them for Andrew to understand him. He just did.

-

When the Foxes hit the court on February 9th, no one had expected them to fight like this.

For forty-five minutes, they had torn through the Catamounts, leaving them trailing by four points. It wasn’t just luck—it was precision, strategy, and a level of teamwork no one had ever associated with the Foxes before.

In the Foxes’ locker room, the TV blared with commentary from the sportscasters outside. Even over the roar of the crowd, their disbelief carried through.

"I'm with you on this one, Marie," the male commentator said, shaking his head. "I'm not entirely sure who we're looking at now or what they did with last season's Foxes, but they've completely blown me away."

Neil glanced up at the screen as he stretched, barely listening but still aware of every word. The camera panned over the empty benches, cutting to shots of the game’s highlights. Rocky Foxy, the obnoxious team mascot, wheeled past in the background, earning a burst of cheers from the stands.

"Quite honestly, I never expected them to finish the season," Marie admitted, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and admiration. "It's a serious credit to this year's lineup that they've made it this far. This is the first Fox roster that actually embraces teamwork."

"Indeed," her co-host agreed. "This is the kind of synchrony you expect from top-tier schools. A few weeks ago, we all laughed when freshman Neil Josten said the Foxes were raring for a rematch with the Ravens. No one's laughing now. If they keep up this momentum and continue playing like they are tonight, they stand a real chance at making it to semifinals."

"Ten minutes left of halftime," Marie reminded. "The score is seven to three. It's going to take some serious footwork for the Catamounts to recover. We're less than an hour away from seeing if the Foxes can secure their first death match victory. Let's take a look at some highlights from the first half, and then—"

The screen went black.

Dan had turned off the TV.

A moment of silence stretched in the locker room. Matt, standing closest to her, reached out and gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. She let out a breath, then turned to meet his questioning gaze with a wry smile.

“It’s weird hearing them say good things about us,” she admitted.

"It took them long enough," Allison scoffed, arms crossed, her usual sharp edge still present despite her exhaustion.

"It took us long enough to earn their consideration," Seth added sarcastically, rolling his shoulders.

Dan exhaled, shaking her head, but she didn’t argue. Instead, her gaze drifted to the mahogany stand in the corner of the room, placed near the picture of Neil and Andrew.

Last month, she had said she wanted a stand for their eventual championship trophy.

That stand was still empty.

Dan’s lips curled into a short, fierce smile.

She turned back to the team, eyes scanning each of them before settling on the faces she trusted most in the world. "I'm in the mood to completely ruin the Catamounts' night. Anyone with me?"

Matt grinned, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Let’s do it.”

"What've you got for us, Coach?"

Wymack wasted no time, running down first-half adjustments as quickly as possible. He kept it short and direct, knowing they didn’t need a lecture—they needed to get back on the court.

The warning buzzer blared.

They moved as one, stepping into the tunnel, the sound of the roaring crowd vibrating in their bones.

When UVM came out for the second half, they were a completely different team. Their movements were sharper, their attacks more aggressive, their plays calculated and ruthless. It was obvious their coach had torn into them during halftime, and now they were fighting with everything they had.

For a moment, a flicker of panic curled in Neil’s gut.

Then he shoved it down.

Losing his cool now would only destroy their chances. He focused on what he, Seth, and Kevin could control, trusting his teammates to handle the rest.

They hadn’t come this far just to fall apart now.

The score remained 7-3.

The game had never been friendly, but now? Now it was war.

Tensions were boiling over, frustration leaking into every movement. Shoves turned harder, marks got closer, meaner, sharper, and Neil found himself skidding across the court more than once.

His backliner wasn’t just playing aggressively—he was out for blood. The guy had at least half a foot and forty pounds on him, and every time Neil tried to push back, it felt like slamming into a brick wall. He gritted his teeth and leaned into it anyway, refusing to give up ground. If he was going to get knocked around, he might as well make it worth it.

A fight was coming. They all knew it. The only question was who would snap first. Surprisingly—or not—it was Andrew.

Neil barely caught it out of the corner of his eye. Andrew had just sent a ball smashing up-court, but instead of immediately resetting into position, he beat his racquet against the wall and called Nicky.

Neil had only a second to see Nicky pivot before his focus snapped back to Kevin.

Kevin was trapped. His backliner was all over him, cutting off his angles and refusing to give him a clear shot at a pass. Too risky. Kevin, realizing it too, flicked the ball to Dan.

Dan shouldered her mark aside and took off, giving the strikers more space to work. She heaved the ball against the far wall, forcing it to rebound into open space. Neil and Kevin sprinted for it.

The goalkeeper saw the danger and took a running leap, reaching for the ball midair. He got there first, just barely, and instead of holding onto it, he popped it straight up, sending it into a high arc toward midcourt.

It came straight down between the dealers and the Foxes’ defense.

Nicky’s mark started for it.

Then Nicky took him out.

His racquet swept clean under the guy’s legs, sending him crashing to the floor with a brutal, unapologetic thud.

The entire game came to a screeching halt.

For a second, there was nothing but stunned silence. Then the striker hit the ground and came up swinging. But he never reached Nicky.

Andrew was already there. With one sharp movement, he shoved his racquet horizontally between them, catching the striker mid-lunge and forcing him backward.

The guy almost swung at Andrew instead, fists clenched and rage burning in his eyes. Matt stepped in before he could make that mistake.

By the time the referees stormed the court, the fight was already over.

Nicky, grinning like he just won the lottery, accepted his red card with a flourishing bow. As he made his way off the court, he blew the referees a dramatic kiss, both fists in the air like he was leaving in triumph.

Aaron came in to replace him, and play reset for a foul shot.

Neil took his place, scanning the court.

Kevin was already braced to run, unshaken by the Catamounts’ renewed aggression. He had total confidence in Andrew, and for good reason.

Andrew blocked the foul shot without hesitation and sent the rebound flying straight to Neil, who didn’t hesitate.

He tore off like his father was on his heels, feet pounding against the court. His mark struggled to keep up, but Neil was too fast, too sharp, too determined.

Kevin was too closely guarded for a safe pass, so Neil adjusted.

Instead of passing, he played it off the wall, a trick shot designed to get him closer to the goal without giving up possession.

The goalkeeper lunged for it, but Neil was quicker. He grabbed the ball, twisted midair, and fired a shot. The buzzer screamed across the court.

Neil barely had time to register the goal before he slammed into the wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact before his back and helmet hit next. The force of it crushed the breath from his lungs, but he didn’t care.

The goal was red and the scoreboard changed.

8-3.

Neil stumbled away from the wall, using his racquet as a cane until his balance returned. The goalkeeper snarled something at him, but Neil had long since mastered the art of tuning out pointless insults.

His teammates caught up with him, sticks clacking as they piled on congratulations. But Neil only had one goal in mind.

He jogged past them, heading straight for Andrew.

"Nicky's not a fighter," Neil said, still catching his breath. "You told him to take a swing."

Andrew shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “It was getting boring.”

Neil smirked, eyeing him. “Don’t tell me you’re actually having fun?”

Andrew barely blinked. "That part was vaguely interesting. I can take or leave the rest."

Neil grinned. “Who are you, and what did you do to my boyfriend?” He threw in some dramatic flair, widening his eyes as if he were speaking to a complete stranger.

Andrew just stared as Neil turned on his heel and headed to half-court, leaving him behind. He didn’t have to see it to know Andrew was shaking his head.

Kevin exploited the Catamounts’ desperation with ruthless precision. Ten minutes before the final buzzer, he caught them off guard, cutting through their frantic, uncoordinated defense and scoring with a perfectly placed shot.

The scoreboard changed.

9-3.

The Catamounts were done for.

They fought with everything they had, pushing harder, attacking with wild aggression, but it wasn’t enough. Andrew stopped every shot on goal, cold and unshakable, and just to make things worse, he sent a couple of rebounds bouncing off their strikers’ helmets, sending their tempers spiraling even further.

The crowd was losing it.

The entire stadium buzzed with screaming fans, deafening cheers, and the pounding of feet against the stands. The energy was electric, a tangible thing crackling in the air.

And still, the clock ticked down.

Five seconds left.

Dan, with zero hesitation, threw her racquet aside and took a running leap straight into Matt’s arms.

Then—

The buzzer sounded.

They had done it. They had dominated their first death match. For the first time in Fox history, they were advancing to round three.

Dan had ripped Matt’s helmet off before the rest of the team even caught up to them. She kissed him hard, to the deafening roar of the crowd.

Kevin and Aaron clacked sticks, exchanging victorious, breathless grins. The subs tore across the court, crashing into the group with excited shouts, hands grabbing shoulders, sticks colliding, bodies colliding.

It was chaos.

It was perfect.

But Neil barely noticed.

Because while the rest of the team celebrated, Andrew stood alone in goal, unbothered by the uproar around him.

He had already set his racquet aside and was busy undoing his gloves, working the tape loose with careful, methodical movements.

Neil didn’t hesitate.

He pushed through his teammates, barely registering their claps on the back, their cheers still ringing in his ears. His legs burned, his chest ached, but none of it mattered as he crossed the court to Andrew.

Andrew didn’t look up as Neil reached him, didn’t acknowledge him until Neil stopped right in front of him.

Neil didn’t need the acknowledgment.

“We won,” he said, his voice still breathless, still buzzing with adrenaline.

Andrew hummed in response, a quiet sound, like he had never doubted it for a second.

Neil exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. His muscles ached, his hands were still trembling with post-game adrenaline, but his eyes stayed on Andrew.

"You were amazing."

That made Andrew pause.

Neil took a step closer, voice dropping just slightly. "The way you blocked them. The way you shut them down. Absolutely amazing."

Andrew finally met his eyes.

For a second, something flickered there.

It wasn’t pride. It wasn’t amusement. It was something else—something unreadable, something just for Neil.

Then Andrew rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

When the Foxes were finally showered, dressed, and halfway functional again, Wymack was already waiting for them in the lounge.

He did a quick headcount, eyes scanning over them like he was making sure no one had managed to disappear or get arrested in the time it took them to clean up. When he found all nine of them present and accounted for, he gave a curt nod.

"Remember when I told you not to make plans for tonight?" he said, already turning toward Abby, jerking his thumb in her direction. "We're going to her place. Consider this a team event. Abby's agreed to cook, and I spent most of the morning stocking her cabinets with booze."

The team perked up instantly.

"Did Neil inspire you, Coach?" Dan teased. "All his talk about team bonding getting to you?"

Wymack shot her a flat look. "Doesn't matter." He was already heading toward the exit. "Let's go. I'm starving, and I really need a cigarette."

Security guards helped them to their cars, shielding them from lingering reporters and the last of the die-hard fans trying to get a glimpse of the team that had just dominated their first death match. Traffic was a nightmare, turning what should have been a quick drive into an agonizingly long one, but no one really minded. The high of victory was still thrumming through their veins, making the slow crawl through the streets bearable.

By the time they finally pulled up to Abby’s, the house was already warm and welcoming, the scent of home-cooked food drifting from the kitchen.

Her fridge was packed with covered dishes, meals she’d prepped earlier in the day, like she had somehow known the Foxes would be showing up. She popped a couple of pans into the oven while Wymack and Dan poured drinks.

Kevin, surprisingly, stayed in the kitchen, hovering near Wymack and Dan as they broke down the game in real time, dissecting plays and discussing what needed improving before the next match.

In the living room, Matt took control of the sound system, flipping through playlists with too much enthusiasm. Nicky and Allison argued over every song choice, their voices rising and falling in exaggerated exasperation, but they didn’t sound serious, so Neil didn’t intervene.

Aaron had claimed a chair by the window, and Seth had joined him, both of them quietly nursing their drinks as they watched the chaos unfold around them.

And outside, in the cool night air, Andrew sat on the hood of his car, Renee standing in front of him.

Neil didn’t hesitate.

He made his way over, and before he could even settle into place, Andrew caught him by the waist and pulled him in.

Renee smiled at the gesture, her expression soft, knowing.

Neil pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and wordlessly passed it to Andrew. They shared it in comfortable silence, Neil listening as Andrew and Renee spoke in low, quiet tones.

Then the front door swung open.

Nicky leaned dramatically against the frame, grinning like an idiot. "Drinks are ready! You coming or what?"

He was completely oblivious to the way Andrew was still holding Neil, to the way their bodies fit together so easily, like this was normal.

Renee cast them one last amused glance before pushing off the car. Neil sighed, flicking the cigarette away as Andrew finally released his grip.

Without a word, the three of them made their way inside.

Later that evening Neil got another text

Unknow number:28

Chapter Text

Because of the odd number of teams in the bracket, the Foxes had an unusual schedule. They would play Nevada at home on February 23rd, have the following week off, and then travel for an away game against Binghamton on March 9th.

The week after their death match victory was technically a rest week, but the Foxes had no intention of slowing down. Their win had been thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. For the first time in the program’s history, they weren’t just surviving. They were a real threat.

None of them wanted to lose that momentum.

Luckily, Wymack had the same idea. He pushed them hard, keeping practices intense right up until Thursday, making sure their rhythm didn’t slip. The drills were brutal, but no one complained. They were too wired, too focused, too determined.

Then Thursday came.

And so did the TV crew.

It was supposed to be a simple NCAA segment—a chance for the media to cover the Foxes’ unexpected rise. The producers wanted interviews, highlight reels, and a feel-good redemption story.

In reality, it was a disaster.

Practice became stop-and-start chaos. The cameras interrupted their rhythm, forcing them to reset plays, repeat shots, and pretend to look engaged while reporters hovered like vultures.