Chapter Text
“That can’t be real, man.”
“Matt, I’m a hundred—no, a hundred and twenty percent sure we’re done.”
“But that can’t be.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re like… I don’t know. Superman and kryptonite?” Neil shrugs. He isn’t looking at him. “Only reversed. You’re pulled to each other, but it’s deadly, and you still can’t exist without each other…”
Neil shrugs again. He’s been sitting in Matt’s room all evening, distracting himself with stupid mini-games. Make a word, match three in a row. His legs ache from an impossibly long, miserable run, and his hands are trembling slightly from hunger.
“We were never together,” he says as he loses again, the stubborn line refusing to reset. For the first time in his life he actually wants a donut. Sweet, drowning in powdered sugar, grease, and oil. Mmmmmm.
“Yeah, sure. That’s exactly what ‘never together’ looks like. Living together, studying, training, going to the movies, playing dumb games…” Matt ruffles his hair, something that usually makes Neil laugh. Not today.
“What even happened?”
Neil rolls onto his back. Oh, he really didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to let anyone into the tiny, delicate mess of his feelings — especially anything even remotely connected to Andrew.
Everything in his life is somehow connected to Andrew.
He sighs, closes the game, and opens his chat with Andrew — the one he rereads whenever he feels hopeless, lonely, uncertain. He shows the screen to Matt.
It’s empty. Andrew deleted their conversation.
***
Tea on the shelf.
Ok. Is Aaron with you?
Yeah. We’ll be back in the evening.
Don’t kill each other.
Idk idk
***
No, it actually started a little earlier. Two weeks ago.
Neil remembers that day well because way too much new stuff happened at once. A new math teacher, a new guy in Spanish class, three newbies trying out for the team. This was an emergency tryout after their brand-new defender, Casey, broke his leg.
He really had been skiing.
After that day, Neil made Dan ban all injury-prone sports. Skiing, snowboarding, boxing, whatever. They don’t have the luxury of replacing players every month. Those three weren’t good at all, but they also had no choice. Surviving a season with ten minus people like last year? Not happening.
That’s why Neil freaked out when the teacher asked to see him after class, the new Spanish kid asked him — in terrible Spanish — to be partners for the group project, and all three tryouts went horribly.
He told Andrew exactly that, sighing dramatically after every sentence. He never went to the professor, didn’t answer the new guy, and left the fake casting call to Dan and Wymack. He didn’t like any of them anyway.
“And why didn’t you…?”
“We wanted to play,” Neil grips the controller. A new console, his one small indulgence from hidden money. The joystick goes bzzzz every time he aims a crossbow at another zombie.
“It was important,” Andrew jumps onto the couch next to him, making it dip just a little under his weight. “Your classes, your project, your team — you know, that stuff.”
Neil snorts. No, it wasn’t — what mattered was that they were alone, and he could be spectacularly bad at killing anything, dying after every shot. Aaron would’ve already driven him insane with commentary. Andrew picks up the second controller, turns it in his hands, then sets it aside.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Living worse than you have to.”
Neil dies again. Literally — torn apart. Blood, guts, all that. Great game.
“What were the criteria supposed to be? Talking to weird people?”
Andrew huffs and reaches for his cigarettes. Neil waits for the invitation to go to the roof, but it doesn’t come. Andrew leaves alone.
The zombies corner him again.
***
Coffee on break
Already had some
Matcha on break
Ew don’t say that
Matcha latte with coconut milk and cane sugar
Bye
…
I’ll come get you
***
Neil pulls himself together the next day. He’s in the coach’s office, listening to how great the third newbie is. It isn’t true, but they have no choice, so he nods. So happy. So glad.
“Pete Bowie. He’ll sing and entertain you,” Wymack says, handing him a folder, too pleased with himself for someone who just recruited another unknown. Oh, Kevin is going to be so pissed.
Neil doesn’t get the reference. The guy looks normal. Tall, nearly Matt’s height, skinny, promises to run fast and do whatever he’s told. Too easy. Where’s the drama?
“His parents kicked him out. Pastor dad and a new wife who’s way too young. Five kids, he’s the oldest,” Wymack pauses. “He’s openly gay.”
Neil groans internally. Partly because of Kevin’s reaction. Partly because — great — more gay drama around them, huh?
“Very well,” he says, taking the folder. He’ll read it later.
***
You still alive?
… you left an hour ago
We’ll be back tomorrow. You still alive?
For now
Try to keep it that way
***
“So nice to meet you! Neil, right?” Pete is unbearable. First, he’s too tall and reminds Neil of that weird long-legged monster from the game. Second, he’s too happy. Jeremy Knox is probably crying somewhere in comparison. Honestly, it feels like Pete’s smile could melt plexiglass.
“Yeah. Hi.”
It’s their first practice together — just orientation. Kevin stands nearby, judging both of them.
“I’m Day,” he says, offering his hand. Pete shakes it without the awe Kevin clearly expected. “Kevin Day.”
Still doesn’t work. Neil fights a grin. They run laps, do squats, stretch. Everything is normal except…
Pete does. not. shut. up.
Could they make intelligence a criteria? Then again, they’d have to kick out Nicky. Maybe Kevin…
“You’re really good at this.”
“Wow, where’d you learn that?”
“I’ll try to be faster.” winks
Neil’s head spins, but horrifyingly, Kevin seems pleased. Pete is good. And it’s awful.
“He’s openly gay,” Neil blurts out. To his greater horror, Kevin just shrugs.
“It’s the times.”
Pete lands a place on the team and heads to his first night practice tonight.
***
Why are you online
Got some water
And this time?
I’m five, Lola’s drowning me in the bathtub
She’s gone
Yeah
You’re twenty
Yeah
You survived all of it
Yeah but
‘But’ will always be with us
Yeah but
Bee’s still happy to see you
How was your day?
Aaron spilled a milkshake in the car and walked home
That’s very brotherly
Yeah but
***
Pete follows him like a haunting. No, he’s not that bad. He just… isn’t pretending. Not even for a second.
“I like Remarque. Do you?”
“I don’t like reading.”
“Ah-ha-ha,” he really laughs like that — mouth wide open, producing those exact sounds. “You don’t want to be a stereotype of a dumb jock, right?”
Of course Neil does. In fact, he’s on his way to the gym to get even dumber and jock-ier with Andrew. Pete doesn’t get the hint and steps onto the treadmill right next to him.
“Your leg muscles are really developed.”
Neil speeds up. He feels like he’ll collapse right here. The voice follows him, too close. The curse of gyms. He keeps pressing the buttons until the voice fades into the distance. His heart is about to burst out of his chest — not even metaphorically.
Wham. He flies into the wall. Andrew stands in front of him, holding the red safety clip Neil never had the courage to use.
“You couldn’t think of something safer?” Andrew looks disappointed. He often does.
Neil shakes his head, and the team rushes over. First, of course, Pete.
“Oh man, Neil, should we carry you to Abby?”
Neil thinks Remarque won’t save him now.