Chapter Text
Neils heart raced as he jolted awake too an unfamiliar alarm. His eyes shot open as he grappled under his pillow desperately, his movements unusually sluggish. His hands reached at nothing, his trusty gun missing. Where was he? Had he been drugged? Why were his movements so slow? His eyes darted frantically across the room, the movement trained into him from years on the run, his stomach churning with unease.
"Morning sleepyhead."
A jarring voice called out to him.
Jarring, yet familiar. Neils eyes came to rest on Nicky.
Nicky Hemmick. Defence for palmetto state foxes. Cousin to Andrew and Aaron Minyard. And Neils friend.
Neil quickly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and refamiliarized himself with the room. It was his shared bedroom, in palmetto states sport student dorms. His current roommates where Nicky, Kevin and Andrew. At present, out of the three, the only other visible person in the room was Nicky. This would not be odd by itself but Neil usually awoke up at least an hour earlier than the foxes to go for a run in the mornings to ground himself.He watched as Nicky leant over to his bedside shelf next to his bunk and stopped the ear splitting noise coming from his alarm.
"You slept in for once."
Nicky had posed this as a question however, despite the tone, the statement did not require an answer so Neil kept his mouth shut. Instead, he stretched his limbs out in a starfish like movement, trying to get rid the sleepy ache enclosing him, but the movement only served to pull a rasping cough from Neils throat. His hands immediately went to scrabble ineffectively at his chest in an attempt to alleviate the burn. It took a moment until Neil finally stopped coughing and shivered from a strange heat. "Huh, weird." The boy thought, trying to avoid the clear implications as his throat ached.
"You good Neil?" Nicky asked with a concerned look. This one was a question, one with an obvious answer.
"I'm fine," Neil replied easily, though he now felt nausea coursing through him too. "I usually sound like this in the morning, don't worry." He assured Nicky, to stop any further questioning.
"Man, that is some intense morning voice you got there. I'm getting chills!" Nicky chuckled, worry melting away, accepting Neils words at face value.
Neil bit his lip, he felt bad to be lying to any of the foxes now, even if it wasn't over anything big. Maybe he wasn't lying anyway. Maybe he did sound like that when he first wakes up. It's not like there's anyone to speak to when he usually awoke to confirm or deny this theory. It was fine. He was fine. Well he was a little dizzy. But that was fine too.
Fighting for a steady voice and clear words he attempted to find out how long he'd slept in.
"What time is it?"
"About 7:15" Nicky replied with a knowing grin, "Don't you usually set an alarm for like 5:30? Your falling off your game Neil." He teased as he jammed some shoes onto his feet, unbothered by the laces.
The truth was Neil hadn't been feeling great last night either and had fallen asleep swiftly after evening training with Kevin. In his haste to get into bed, he must have forgotten to set his typical alarm. Even now the break in routine grated on him. Nicky's voice broke through his thoughts once again.
"Andrew is taking us to the court in like, 30 minutes, okay?"
Neil simply nodded in response.
Satisfied with the answer, Nicky strode out the room muttering something about coffee, leaving Neil alone with a deep ache in his bones and a weariness in his brain. His body was betraying him. His head was foggy and his vision swam back and forth. It felt like his limbs weighed a hundred pounds. Not good signs.
Neil couldn't be sick. Nathanial wasn't allowed to be sick, why should Neil be afforded that luxury? Sickness was equal to weakness, and weakness was equal to death.
Neils fingers had subconsciously wandered down to his wrists and begun scraping against the scarred bumps that lined his arms. Once he realised what he had been doing he quickly reached to his bedside desk and retrieved his black sleeves and begun stuffing them over his fists. Once they were enclosed around his wrists, Neil took a deep steadying breath but his lungs clenched and wrung the breath from his chest, leading him to cough uncontrollably, with Neil begging his body to let him breathe. A vile taste crawled up his throat as Neil eventually was able to take a few heavy laboured breaths.
He quickly slipped out of his bed (far quicker than his aching limbs wanted too) and took hasty steps towards the bathroom. He had barely locked the door before expelling his guts into the toilet. Considering that Neil had yet to eat anything that morning, he felt he must have thrown up a lung or something.
After a couple of moments, Neil sank to the further onto the nice cool tiles on the floor. Groaning, he wiped his palm down his face in an attempt to wipe away the pounding in his skull. Instead he was disappointed to find his forehead burning furiously under his palm.
"Fuck." Neil muttered softly to himself
Slowly, so slowly, Neil lifted himself off the chilled floor with his aching arms, aiming for the sink and vanity. On his best days Neil could glance into the mirror but he still avoided it if he could. Averting his eyes for now, he grit his teeth and reached for his toothbrush, his hand made unsteady by his fuzzy vision. He desperately didn't want to look up into the mirror but he knew that he had to see how well he could hide his current weakness. Breathing careful breaths through his stuffy nose, he finally looked up and glared into his reflection. His jaw ground together at the sight before him, a swirl of unpleasant feelings and emotions for the man's face who greeted him. Every day he got older, looking more and more like his father. He hated it. The icey blue eyes filled with hatred, his mouth that would tilt upwards at the corners whenever Neil shirked from him in fear, the eyebrows that were almost constantly furrowed in displeasure whenever Neil was near. Neils downward spiral stopped as his eyes landed on the ugly gashes down his face, healed over by now, leaving pink lines and clusters across his face, more prominent today against his ashy sick skin.
Strangely enough, the more Neil stared into the harsh lines in his reflection, the more he liked them. Nathan Wesninski never had burn marks or cuts on his face. Neil's fingers slid into his hair. Nathaniel Wesninski had never grow his hair out to such a length. And now, Neil supposed, he never would.
Just like that Neil could breathe a little easier.
As if to remind himself of his task, Neils vision grew darker. He immediately slammed his hands to the rim of the sink to keep himself upright and jolt himself awake. Staring at his reflection again, Neil considered how he looked overall in comparison to how he looked when he was unburdened with, with, whatever this was.
Other than having slightly paler skin than usual and some concerningly large eyebags, Neil looked relatively...fine. He didn't feel it but that was another matter. Plus if anyone actually felt his skin they would discover it was feverishly hot and damp, but he rarely made contact with anyone besides Andrew anyway. Plus Andrew always asked for permission before touching Neil. He had told Andrew that it would always be a yes with him but Andrew was still always cautious and considerate when he asked Neil anyway. No matter how well Neil could mask Andrew could always read Neil like a book. Mary would have beaten Neil black and blue for allowing someone to read him that easily but honestly it was a relief to shed his walls around Andrew. Sometimes it felt like Andrew knew Neil better than Neil knew Neil.
Ah- that may be a kink in Neils plans. He knew Andrew constantly wore his own mask of indifference, but underneath all that Neil knew he was a protecter. If Andrew even sensed a wisp that Neil may be sick he would refuse to take him to court. Neil couldn't have that. He felt like he was falling apart and he knew the court would fix everything. All he had to do was get there. Neil decided to just avoid Andrew as much as possible, to avoid his carefully concealed worry and hatred towards Neil's exy obsession. The others couldn't see it but Neil could, it was what he got in exchange for Andrew seeing through his own walls- He saw through Andrews.
He turned on the tap and wiped some cold water across his brow. Once glance at the clock told Neil that he had been in the bathroom too long and he would have to shower after practice now. Neil cursed and stumbled out the bathroom towards his bedroom, every step sending a jolt of pain through his body. Somehow, he stuffed himself into his training kit. He took another cautious breath and built up a good persona, his mothers voice ringing in his ears
"We cannot afford to show weakness Abram. Sickness is for those who can afford to be weak. We don't have time for it. Keep moving or i will make you."
Even remembering her sallow voice sent shivers down his back. His fingers itched with the need for a cigarette. Regretfully, he acknowledged that would be a bed idea in his current state. Done getting ready, he took slow intentional steps to the kitchen.