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Andrew hasn't seen Neil in over three years. He didn't watch the games he played, avoided any news surrounding American Exy and never asked Nicky or Kevin about him. It's been three years since he transferred to another team, a small one in Scotland. He has never in his life heard about them, which is the reason he chose it. They weren't exactly bad, but they lacked the real raw talent the Foxes had and their captain was a complete douchebag. And while Andrew still didn't care about Exy, now even less, being on court felt wrong since the day he broke up with Neil. If he could call it a break up as it wasn't even a thing in first place.
(It happened after their second game against the Trojans. They had won by two points, but Andrew barely registered it. All he could think about was what he had to do that day and the unwelcome emotions that burned through his skin.
The team stayed to talk with the Trojans while Andrew headed straight for the locker room. He knew that there was no other way out—at least for now. That doesn't mean that it was an easy decision; it went against all his instincts and promises. There probably was a better time and place to do this, but he had already postponed it for over a week and if he didn't do it today he would fuck it up.
He went to his locker to get the papers but couldn't even look at them, so he just shoved them into his pocket. They felt like stones, but not his body was carrying the weight.
The Foxes started showing up, cheerful and happy, and went straight to the showers. Neil looked over at him with a glance that could only be interpreted as worrying when Andrew just looked away. He couldn't handle Neil's gaze right now, especially not when he looked at him like that.
When Neil went to the shower Andrew stopped by his locker, and started toying around with his wristbands. He can't say how long it took until all the Foxes left, all Andrew could say was that he finally understood what it meant to be longing for the ability to stop time—to stop what's coming.
Eventually, Neil emerged with wet hair and the weight of the papers became unbearable, so he just shoved them into his chest.
While Neil read them Andrew could see all the emotions clearly on his face. First, confusion and disbelief. Then, doubt. And finally, he saw him believe it. He could tell that he hasn't figured out the why and he was trying to understand, but he believed it. Andrew's own thoughts were a whirlwind he couldn't begin to understand himself.
Neil dropped the papers and simply asked, “Why?”
Andrew saw his body stiffening, muscles tense as if waiting for a punch. And Andrew delivered it.
"I grew bored of this.")
Three years later and Andrew still can't forget the emotions he saw in Neil's eyes. It was like he knew something was wrong, but couldn't lay his finger on it.
I grew bored of this. Neil had asked him to elaborate, but Andrew kept quiet. In order to keep this simple—a clean cut—he had to stop himself from explaining, couldn't even give him a hint. He stayed for a moment, memorizing as much of Neil as he could, and eventually, left. Andrew ignored the few messages Neil sent him, and soon he gave up.
The first couple of months were easy. Moving to another fucking continent and joining the new team kept him busy—distracted, and he had no time to think about Neil. The first time he had a free day he joined a local Kendo club. It was the perfect way for a physical output, since he didn't even try at the Exy practices. It wasn't a perfect replacement for his fights with Renee—the bamboo swords didn't hurt as much—but it was something.
His team was a bunch of egocentric assholes and adding Andrew to the dynamic didn't improve the situation. They all pretty much hated him. A couple of them tried to befriend him but they weren't ready to put up with his shit and gave up. Good. It wasn't like Andrew came there to make friends.
For a couple of weeks he was sure he'd get kicked off the team, but the Coach knew that even without Andrew trying he was better than half the team combined. The team wasn't good enough to qualify for the international games and barely made third place on a national level. Andrew didn't care one bit.
There were nights where he couldn't sleep, or nights where he couldn't stop his brain from dreaming about Neil. He started drinking more, the alcohol making him forget the dreams. After a couple of months he worked out a routine of Exy practice, Kendo practice and alcohol. He once went to a club and ended up with an exchange student from Germany in the back alley. He had no problem with his no touching rule, but after a couple of minutes Andrew pushed away. It felt wrong, the whole situation left him aching for something he couldn't have.
Whenever Neil managed to sneak into thoughts Andrew blanked out—it wasn't anything new, he had learned long ago to shut off his brain in order to survive.
He didn't talk to the Foxes a lot, the only one he kept in touch was Nicky, sometimes he got a rare text from Renee. They didn't talk about Neil, despite the one time Nicky pushed Andrew so far that he was ready to fly to Germany to strangle him. Kevin probably couldn't forgive him for leaving.
At the end of the year Andrew sent a text to the number from the piece of paper he had been carrying around with him this whole time.
Is it over yet?, he asked.
No, was the answer.
The second year was harder. It became impossible to ignore the news about Neil's team, they kept winning game after game. He would find himself sitting in front of the TV some of the nights, watching the game with a bottle of alcohol and by the time the game ended and they showed close-ups of the legendary striker he'd be drunk enough to text Nicky with as simple How is he? and over months the OK turned into getting better.
It was also the year he heard about the court dates against Nathan Wesninski's men, and he called Renee. When he asked her to accompany Neil that day she didn't argue or ask him any questions. She only made him promise to meet up soon.
To say he didn't think about Neil would be a lie. How could he not think about his Yes, and Always and The only one I'm interested in is you. It was that year that he surpassed 200% and he hated him, hated him, hated him, but he hated himself for hating him even more.
On New Years he texted the number again.
Now?, he asked.
No, was the answer, and he hated this the most.
The third year came to be the hardest. Andrew finally admitted to himself that he missed him and he started a fight at practice that day. That day he got kicked off the team, but only because he got one of his teammates hospitalized. He didn't care about it, the idiot deserved it. All he could think about was Neil, and Nicky's recent text. He said Neil was doing good. It left a tumult raging in Andrew's chest and suddenly he felt trapped in this god damn country. He need to get out—needed to get back to Neil.
So he texted the number, not caring one bit that it's not the end of the year.
Is it enough?, his text said.
Yes, was the answer and Andrew didn't even bother to pack his stuff, he just left for the airport.
About 30 hours later he was standing on Neil's porch, and when he opened the door holding the most hideous cat in his arms, Andrew Minyard finally felt home.