Chapter Text
Neil had kind of hoped Kevin would forget their little encounter. Maybe he would write it off as a fluke or even a dream. Maybe he would be too busy prepping for their upcoming season to give it another thought. But Neil had never been that lucky. And the more he hoped against it, the more reality pushed back. He’d never admit that a teeny tiny part of him did wish Kevin would come back—if only to feel the validation of being wanted for what he could offer. But that was neither here nor there.
Six days later, Kevin walked into Exites with his resident goalkeeper. Neil didn’t see them walk in, but the choked noise his current customer made had his neck prickling. He knew Kevin would be behind him, but turning to see him standing there still made Neil nauseous. Kevin stood with the same small duffel bag as before on his arm and the racket he had purchased previously in his hand. Neil’s eyes slid behind Kevin to Andrew; his stare was bored, but the ghost of a smirk pulled at the edge of his mouth. Neil turned back to his customer.
“Um, the heavy rackets will be over two more aisles, and the heads will be down one more. Netting options will be available at checkout. Please excuse us.” Before his customer responded, Neil had shifted to walk towards the practice court. He knew Kevin and Andrew would follow; he knew what Kevin was after. The silence hung heavy in Neil’s lungs, but he refused to be the one to break it. He deliberately took his time strapping on his practice gear. After 9 months of working at Exites, Neil had found a routine in gearing up. It was as close as he allowed himself to be to a real court, but it was never enough to satisfy the gnawing in his gut that craved more. Having Kevin throw it in his face was salt on the wound.
Kevin was geared up and waiting when Neil stepped onto the practice court with the ball bucket. His smile was smug. Neil wanted to hurl a ball at it.
“Before you try to derail this with whatever useless postering you were planning on doing, you have to warm up. No-” Neil cut Kevin off as he opened his mouth to protest. “This is not optional, and I will not even entertain this charade until you do. I’d like to keep my job.” That last part wasn’t exactly a lie, but again, that gnawing for more was insistent. “You have to get through at least one round of the 10 circles. Then you are free to move on. Got it?”
“Hurry up so we can move on from this farce.” Neil rolled his eyes.
Andrew, who had been observing from the sideline, moved closer to the goal for a better view. It wasn't lost on Neil that Andrew only moved when Neil had walked closer to Kevin. He didn’t care enough to put more thought into it, though, as Kevin had gotten into a ready stance. Neil picked up a ball from the bucket. He cradled it for a moment before lobbing it to Kevin, who wasted no time launching it at the largest of the 10 circles. Neil was surprised but knew he shouldn’t have been when the ball ricocheted right back to him. He didn’t even need to adjust to catch it right in his net. Kevin caught Neil’s eye with a knowing smirk on his face.
Kevin irked Neil more than he was willing to admit, but there was another part of Neil that couldn't help but marvel at Kevin’s skills. Even with his non-dominant hand, he had killer aim and power.
“Next target,” Neil shouted, throwing the ball back to Kevin.
✦✦✦
Neil had already prepared himself for a fight when Kevin had made that first hit on the target. He knew that Kevin would push. He knew there was no easy way out. And the more Neil fought against him, the harder Kevin would push back.
When they had gone through all the company-mandated warm-ups, Neil set up the cones to imitate where the backliners would be positioned. The look in Kevin’s eyes as Neil positioned himself to defend was wolfish. Kevin was going to force Neil to show his hand; he could sense it. Could feel it like a hungry animal breathing down his neck. If Kevin sensed any hesitation from Neil, he’d make Neil regret it. The only thing Neil could do was play.
Neil grabbed a ball from the bucket before setting himself up. He cradled it twice, then tossed it to Kevin, who wasted no time and bolted down the halfcourt. Neil tracked his approach and waited for Kevin to try to bounce the ball, which exy rules stated he’d have to do in three more steps. Though Kevin’s stride was longer, Neil’s speed set him up as a formidable match. Neil had already started towards where Kevin aimed the ricochet before his follow-through was finished. Neil snagged the ball from the air a moment before Kevin could and rolled away from the check he knew was coming. Before he could take more than two steps, Kevin was on him. Neil cursed Kevin’s height and countered a stick check that rattled his arms. He grit his teeth against the pain and ducked around Kevin. But Kevin was expecting it this time and followed. Kevin’s stick clashed with Neil’s, and he lost control of the ball. Both men raced towards the ball, but Kevin’s reach allowed him to scoop it before Neil. With one step, Kevin twisted back and shot at the goal. The wall silently flashed red as the ball landed true in the bottom left corner.
Neil heaved as he watched the goal lights stop, then turned back to Kevin. Playing against an opponent so much stronger than himself only stoked his yearning for more. To learn more, to play more, to play harder. He wanted exy more than he’d ever wanted it before. Seeing Kevin’s skills up close, the control he had, the power. Neil burned with a seething jealousy born out of admiration and longing. He wanted that. He wanted that so desperately he could taste it.
“Again.”
✦✦✦
Neil tried really hard to ignore the crowd outside of the practice court. It had started small; some kids had wanted to test some stick options, but happened upon a random Exites employee going toe to toe with the best striker in the NCAA. Gradually, the crowd had grown sizable as the commotion of Kevin and Neil’s endeavor spread. Neil had never played that hard in his life, but for every inch he gained on Kevin, Kevin took a foot. Though to be keeping up with Kevin at all, Neil would pat himself on the back once Kevin left and he could nurse his wounded pride.
Neil had played hundreds of practice matches against hundreds of players, all of various skill levels, but even the full-ride college athletes couldn’t compare to Kevin’s talent. His speed was an unexpected issue for Kevin; he had noticed. Whether it was a delay from his recovery or he had just been underestimating Neil, Kevin couldn’t seem to catch him when Neil did manage to shake him off and shoot on an empty court. It was those few times where Neil managed to break away that gave him those measly 3 points to Kevin’s 14. Though it wasn’t lost on him that every time he stole a point on an empty goal, Andrew’s smirk twitched, his shoulders tensing like he was bracing himself to defend.
Kevin called it quits after a particularly brutal feint that had Neil scrambling to make up lost ground before Kevin slammed a goal dead center on the wall. Both men sucked in air to their starved lungs, sweat dripping from their faces. Suddenly, Kevin had his fist in Neil’s shirt and tugged him so his gaze was locked onto Kevin’s.
“You belong on the Court.” Neil’s lungs constricted sharply—unrelated to the exertion of the last 40 minutes. But there was a flutter. A crack in his resolve that must’ve shown on his face because Kevin kept going. “Give me your game. You have my attention, I will make you Court, but you have to give me your game.”
He couldn’t think. This was too much: Kevin, the scrimmage, the sweat dripping down his spine. Neil’s mind couldn’t keep up with the influx of information and, for a startling moment, the only thing Neil could see was the number tattooed on Kevin’s face. Then reality slammed back into his brain, and Neil jerked out of Kevin’s grip.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the glimmer that Kevin had in his eyes when they first met was back and Neil knew the obsession of a challenge when he saw one. Kevin’s eyes were a mirror to Neil’s internal feelings and it was too much to see reflected back so starkly. He looked away.
At some point, Andrew had stepped into the practice court. He had a goalie stick in his hand and swung it to rest across his shoulders. Wrists draped lazily along the shaft. Neil itched to pick up another ball and finally see just what it was about this pint-sized maniac that had Kevin so leashed, or maybe it was the other way around. But the crowd was finally clearing and Neil still had a shift to finish. He moved stiffly out of Kevin’s space and grabbed the few balls scattered by the ball bucket. Without turning to look at Kevin, he said, “I have work to do, so if you’re just here to waste my time, I’ll have to decline.”
“Saturday is an early practice, we’ll be done by noon. Stop by afterwards and practice with me. Only then can you tell me you don’t want what I am offering. I’ll give your name to security so they know to let you in.” Neil didn’t turn back until he heard the door to the court closing. Even then, he waited another few minutes to regain the bit of composure that had crumbled in the face of what Kevin had offered. It was impossible. It was a nightmare. It was a dream. Neil had nothing—was nothing. But perhaps being nothing was harder than being something. And Kevin was offering him something.
Neil knew he’d never forgive himself for walking away from Kevin, from exy, but whether he remembered that day with Neil’s father or not, Kevin was getting too close to the real Neil. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. She’d kill him herself if she could see him now. The smell of smoke and salt filled his nose, and for a moment, he was back on that beach watching the fire devour their car.
A sharp knock sounded on the plexiglass. Neil turned to see his manager standing by the closed door, pointing emphatically to his walkie-talkie. He nodded and gathered the rest of the balls into the bucket. Maybe this wasn’t what he wanted, but it’s all he could allow himself to be. He’d go back to work and ignore Kevin’s offer, and someday, when he was safe, he’d thank himself for getting away. For avoiding his past. Neil needed to hold onto that because if he let himself hope, if he allowed Kevin’s words to linger, he’d never escape.