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Sometimes, Neil was more rabbit than man.
Neil woke with a start. That was rare but not unusual for people like them. Andrew watched him adjust to being awake with feigned disinterest. He'd been awake himself for only five minutes and he most definitely was not watching Neil sleep. And if he was, it was only because Neil's heart was rabbiting in his chest, reverberating through his back and hammering into Andrew's own chest. They'd begun sleeping like this sometimes, Neil tucked neatly against Andrew and Andrew's arm slung lazily over Neil's waist. Andrew's back was still against the wall.
"Breathe, Neil," Andrew said, his voice raspy from sleep. He put his palm flat on Neil's stomach and felt the sharp rise and fall when Neil sucked in a shaky breath. His heart calmed, but his body did not relax back into Andrew's. Over his shoulder, Andrew watched the side of Neil's face. He did not blink, still locked in whatever vivid nightmare he'd been having.
"You're awake, Neil. It was a nightmare. Nothing more."
Neil nodded, but said nothing. A bad sign. He blinked though, so Andrew considered it progress.
"Andrew," he finally breathed. "I think I need to—"
Andrew removed his arm from Neil's waist. He could tell from Neil's tone what he'd been about to say. Need to go. Need to run. It was obvious in the way he held his body. Restless energy with nowhere to go. Neil moved from his side, at least having the grace to move slowly to preserve Andrew's warmth for as long as possible. Andrew resented that he should be deprived of Neil's warm and pliant body so early on a Sunday. It was the only days they didn't wake up at the ass crack of dawn for practice. But Neil was like him—fucked up and functioning despite it all, so Andrew could not begrudge him his coping mechanisms.
Neil was quick to shuffle into running shorts and a tank. Andrew watched him dress. Watched the curve of his spine and the tension in his shoulders. Watched the supple skin on his thighs as he bent to pull on his ragged running shoes. His hand was on the doorknob when Andrew spoke again.
"Rabbit," he said, stopping Neil in his tracks. Neil turned back to him. For the first time that morning, Andrew got to see his face. His blue eyes were distant and faraway. Even as he looked at Andrew, he seemed to be looking through him. He was pale, making the dark strands of his lashes stand out against his skin. "Come back."
Neil nodded. "Always," he sighed. Then turned and left the room.
Neil wasn't actually such a flight risk anymore. He'd become less of a flight risk in the time that had followed the trauma of the last year. He'd crawled from the depths of hell and carved a life for himself despite all the forces that had not wanted him to. He had things to stay for now. He was Dan's co-captain, and had spent the majority of the year attempting to whip the freshmen into shape, knowing that they'd be his responsibility when she graduated. He had friends—the foxes that had stuck by him through thick and thin. He had places he liked to visit—the bagel shop down the street that packed his bagel with extra protein. The coffee shop downtown which he frequented with Andrew.
And he had Andrew himself.
But Andrew reminded him anyways, probably more for himself than for Neil. What he felt for the Exy addict could not be put into words. It was part of the reason he had not told Neil that he loved him. The word love didn't seem to contain the multitude or depth of feeling which Andrew had for Neil. It had taken him too long to come to terms with it, and he couldn't fathom undermining it with a word as frivolous as love. People declared love for each other at their weddings and divorced each other only a few years later. People loved pets. They loved their hobbies and their friends and their favorite food. It was a watered down word that had lost its gravity and it certainly did not encompass the things that Andrew felt for Neil. Not even close.
Andrew sighed and sat up, feeling somewhat off kilter with Neil gone. It wasn't how he wanted to spend his Sunday morning, but he could deal with it. He could be a pillar for Neil today. Or at least, he could try. It was what the idiot deserved. He took his time getting up and stretching, flexing his muscles meticulously so he wouldn't be so aware of the seconds that ticked by without Neil under his watchful eye and brushed his teeth for three minutes instead of two. A ridiculous anxiety sometimes settled over him when Neil was like this.
When Neil ran, where would he go? How long would he be? What if he tripped? What if somebody hit him? What if, what if, what if? Andrew was tempted to put a damn tracker on him. Too many times, Neil had come back to Andrew battered and broken. But Andrew could not watch him every moment of every day. Sometimes, he had to trust that Neil would be okay without him.
He padded into the kitchen to make breakfast. Kevin was slumped over on the couch like he didn't have a perfectly good bed in the other room, all but dead to the world. Andrew let him be, busying himself with waffles and cutting fruit. Andrew himself preferred pancakes smothered in syrup and sugar, but Neil would need to eat when he came in and Andrew knew he'd be more likely to do that if waffles were on the table. The waffles were steaming when Neil came in through the front door, soaked through with sweat. Andrew pretended not to notice him, wary of scaring the rabbit away. He watched him from his peripheral instead, devotedly chopping the stems off of the rinsed strawberries. Neil worked his way into the kitchen, idly toeing off his shoes and kicking them by the door. Silently he peered over Andrew's shoulder.
"You stink, junkie," Andrew said. It was a feeble attempt at getting Neil talking.
Neil hummed, hovering with his chin over Andrew's shoulder. He stared at Andrew, speaking without opening his mouth. Yes or no? Andrew gave a subtle nod and let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding when Neil settled his chin on Andrew's shoulder. Neil had improved and regressed simultaneously, a feat that only he was capable of. Recently, Neil had become prone to long stretches of silences on his bad days. Andrew had spoken to Bee extensively about it, trying not to let on how much it bugged him and if bugged was even the right word for it, but she'd seen straight through him like she always did.
Neil feels safe with you she said. His silence could mean he trusts you to understand him even when it's hard for him to say it out loud. It's nothing to be scared of.
I'm not scared, Andrew argued.
Of course, Bee said, in the tone that meant she didn't believe him. All you can do is be there for him and let him come out of it in his own time.
So Andrew did. At least, he tried. Neil opened his mouth expectantly as Andrew pulled the last strawberry from its container. He held it to Neil's mouth by the leaves, glad when Neil's lips grazed his fingertips. At least Neil was not so far gone today that he was shying away from touch. He wasn't so opposed to touch as Andrew could get, but on very bad days, Neil withdrew from everything and everyone. That he was still invading Andrew's personal space was good. And despite his silence, Neil seemed marginally better off than he had been this morning. He gave a sigh of relief, savoring the bite of fruit far longer than anybody ought to. It was indecent. Andrew envied the fruit just for making Neil look like that.
"Food or shower first?" He asked.
Neil looked longingly at the still steaming waffles, then back to Andrew, assessing his reaction.
"Fine, but keep your stench on that side of the table."
Neil gave a small smile, respectfully moving to the other side of the table and watching with lidded amusement as Andrew stacked a plate with waffles and topped it with the freshly chopped fruit. He held up the syrup, a question in his eyes. Neil shook his head, taking a fork from the table and holding his hand out for his lackluster plate. Andrew squinted at him and added a few more strawberries for good measure. When he passed the plate to Neil, he dug into the syrup-less waffles like a heathen. He exhaled as he chewed and some of the tension leaked out of his shoulders, but as he ate his gaze became far away and unfocused.
Andrew wished that he were a better conversationalist at times like this. He wished he could think of what to say to draw Neil's attention away from whatever was haunting him. He sat across from Neil, pouring syrup over his own waffles and drowning them in a whipped cream, syrup mixture. Then it hit him. He looked up at Neil, fork halfway to his face.
"The Trojans play tonight," he said, watching Neil carefully.
Neil blinked, jerking his attention back to Andrew. It was almost exhausting how predictable his rabbit was. Neil squinted his eyes knowingly, but said nothing. At least Andrew had his complete attention.
"Your raven seems to be making waves."
Neil preoccupied himself with his waffles, smiling at Andrew's too obvious ploy at distracting him. Neil had been trying to pick Andrew's brain about Jean Moreau's placement with the Trojans for weeks. Andrew had not obliged. He considered this within the realm of things Exy related, and he refused to speak of Exy when he could avoid it. It was enough that he had to sit around and listen to Kevin and Neil rant about their own team's offense and defense. Now he was expected to listen and engage in talk about other teams too? It was cruel and unusual punishment. Besides, Jean wasn't his broken bird to handle. Andrew had his hands full with these two idiots.
From the couch, Kevin made a noise that signaled his consciousness. Andrew repressed an eye roll when, seconds later, Kevin came stumbling into the kitchen.
"No way you're talking about the Trojans," he said, accusatorily.
Andrew glanced up at him, and watched Neil twist in his chair to look at Kevin where he was leaning against the door. Kevin's dark hair was stuck up every which way, and his shirt was rumpled, but he still looked, ridiculously, like some kind of model.
"I'm not," Andrew replied. "Don't get me mixed up in your weird, Trojan wet dreams, Day."
At that, Neil let out a snicker and twisted back to his meal. Kevin slumped into the seat next to Neil.
"Whatever. I heard you," he said as he piled a bowl with fruit for himself. Andrew cast him a cutting glare, but said nothing. "Jeremy says Jean is doing much better."
"Oh, is that what your golden boy Jeremy told you?"
Kevin dismissed that with an annoyed glance at Andrew. "I told you Jean would adjust. The Trojans are the perfect team for him. He just needs time and consistency."
"What part of 'not talking about the Trojans' do you not understand?" Andrew said, stabbing his waffle with an abundance of cruelty.
"You were talking about the Trojans just now with Neil," Kevin argued.
"Neil lets me put my hand in his pants," Andrew replied, scathingly. At that, Neil choked, his eyes watering until Kevin rolled his eyes and thumped him on the back. He tried to hide his smile behind a napkin as he finished chewing the mouthful of waffle, but Andrew caught sight of it regardless. Leave it to Neil to be cracked by immature sex jokes. It wasn't even a very good retort. Recently, Kevin, too, had opened up to the two of them. Occasionally, he joined them in their passions and the three of them had scarcely been parted since. Kevin said nothing to that effect though.
"Don't be gross," Kevin scolded, popping a strawberry in his mouth. "You should care about the Trojans. They're going to be the only thing standing between us and first place this year."
Andrew stared blankly at him, marveling at how a person could be so annoying within minutes of waking up. He slid his gaze to Neil, who wasn't meeting either of their eyes, and had nearly cleaned his plate. There was a still the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth though.
"That and the myriad of fuck ups you and Neil dredged up from across the country," Andrew said, blithely stabbing a syrup soaked piece of waffle. It was more than he would give on a normal day. Usually, he'd brush Kevin off by saying he didn't care about Exy at all, and let the conversation devolve into Kevin hounding him about court. But Neil thrived off of this stuff and Andrew didn't know what else he could give to the boy who always seemed to know exactly how to handle him. The least Andrew could do was throw him a bone.
Kevin scoffed in an endearingly Kevin way, and grabbed Neil's collar. "We're making progress with the freshmen. They just need more consistent practice. Right, Neil?"
Andrew looked at Neil, raising a languid eyebrow in challenge.
Neil cleared his throat. "Right," he managed. It was one word. Still, it was a relief to hear him at all. Andrew had loosened him with the allure of breakfast. Kevin had seemed to shake him from the last of the dredges.
Kevin lifted his own brow at Andrew, as if to say I told you so. He let go of Neil's collar, but Andrew didn't miss the way Neil leaned into Kevin's side. Touch, of course, could comfort Neil nine times out of ten. Andrew hated that he could only offer it in small doses, but something settled in him at the realization that Kevin could give that to him. That he would willingly.
"And that dickwad striker?" Andrew pressed.
At that, Neil and Kevin both rolled their eyes. Neil's upper lip curled in apparent distaste. They all hated the cocky new freshman striker. He was a disrespectful little shit with an ego too big for his own good. He particularly had it out for Neil, who seemed only moments away from retaliating violently at any given practice. Honestly, Andrew was surprised that Neil hadn't slammed the kid into the plexiglass walls yet. And a little disappointed. He liked when Neil got a little chaotic. It was entertaining to watch, if nothing else.
"Neil will reel him in as soon as he starts taking his role as vice captain seriously," Kevin said, determination lighting up his eyes. As much as Andrew was loathe to admit it, Kevin's hard determination was one of the things that Andrew liked the most about him. Even if it only really came out when they were talking about Exy.
Neil scoffed at that though, turning an irritated eye on Kevin. "I'm not the problem," Neil argued, establishing that his silence was well and truly broken.
"Big, combative personalities are a reality of this team," Kevin responded, waving a dismissive hand. "As long as Wymack continues to pull from the bleeding masses, we'll always have to work to integrate new players into a cohesive team. But it's meaningful work and it makes us better than everybody else—that we can compete on a collegiate level while training from the ground up year after year. Besides," Kevin continued, unaware they were both staring at him as he picked out an offending piece of his strawberry. "When we find whatever abhorrent thing that can actually take down Neil, it definitely won't be an overconfident striker with a shitty attitude."
Neil was finishing the last of his breakfast, chewing contemplatively and seeming to turn that over in his head. Andrew could see his thoughts in the light in his eyes, the settling of his shoulders, and the tilt of his head. Any other day, Andrew might have mocked Kevin for the speech, but he found that he couldn't today. Not when it soothed Neil like that. Not when Kevin had accomplished exactly what Andrew had been hoping to accomplish all morning in the span of a few minutes. When Andrew and Neil both said nothing, Kevin stood. He threw another handful of the chopped strawberries in his bowl and nudged Neil.
"Let's go over last night's game," he said, then moved without waiting for an answer.
Neil turned and watched him go, a more pleasant expression on his face than had been there before. He'd definitely seemed to have settled. He turned back to Andrew.
"Shower?" He asked, simply.
Andrew nodded. "I'll meet you there," he said, feigning disinterest and turning back to his breakfast.
True to his word, Andrew drifted into their shared bathroom. Neil liked his showers hot—they ran about a million degrees. The bathroom was already filled with steam when Andrew entered, effectively letting it all out. Sensing the change in temperature, Neil poked his head out from behind the curtain, already soaked to the bone. Andrew passed him a dubious stare as he stripped his arm bands. Neil ducked behind the curtain again, and was waiting under the spray when Andrew joined him.
Andrew liked to acclimate to the change in temperature slowly, so he stuck only his arms out into the water. Neil reached out for Andrew, sure to move slow enough for Andrew to pull away if he wanted. It was ridiculous, because if Andrew didn't want to touch Neil, he wouldn't be in the shower with him. But Neil's caution and respect was never something Andrew would take for granted. When he didn't stop him, Neil placed Andrew's hands on his hips and tilted his head back and closed his eyes to the stream, baring the expanse of his throat to him. Andrew wanted to lick and bite, but he refrained. Even if Neil said it was always yes, Andrew didn't feel comfortable pushing him when he'd been in such a state this morning. He just let his hands sit on Neil's hips, feeling the familiar jut of his hip bones and the occasional scar under his fingertips. After a moment, Andrew dipped his head forward into the stream, resting his forehead on Neil's chest. It was enough to have him there, especially after the vacant look he'd had in his eyes this morning. Andrew had known he wouldn't run. And yet…
"I'm fine," Neil said, running a hand through Andrew's hair so he could slick it back against his head.
Andrew felt a flash of irritation. "I didn't ask," he replied, monotone.
"I hate when I worry you," Neil said in response, as if Andrew hadn't spoken.
"Who said I was worried."
"You made me breakfast and talked about Exy." Andrew couldn't see him, but he knew Neil was smiling from his tone.
"I have a penchant for self torture." Here, Neil gave a soft snort. He said nothing else. "Turn around," Andrew instructed.
Neil did so, pulling away from Andrew so he could face the stream. Andrew pumped shampoo into his hand and worked his hands methodically through Neil's waves. He told himself it was because he wanted to get away from Neil's knowing expression, but really it was for the way he melted under Andrew's touch, and the last tight coils of stress bled out from his body. Wordlessly, he tilted Neil's head forward to rinse him and repeat the process over again with conditioner. Neil was pliant under his touch. Allison had put Neil's fried hair on a strict regiment which Andrew actually wholeheartedly agreed with, because of the way Neil's hair had softened and, on good days, glistened.
"Now you," Neil murmured, once Andrew was done.
Andrew acquiesced, trading spots with Neil and facing the shower wall. He let his eyes slip closed, focusing on the Neil's efficient hands in his hair. Halfway through, Neil spoke.
"It was a dream about my dad."
Unsurprising. The worst of Neil's dreams were about his dad.
"I dreamt that he lived after that night in Boston. And that he got away. Was looking for me."
"You watched your father die."
"Yeah, I know," Neil said, smiling softly. Whether he was smiling at the memory or at Andrew's blasé attitude was anybody's guess. Andrew didn't care either way. Neil deserved to be homicidal more than most. Andrew actually thought Neil was extremely well adjusted for all the shit he'd been through. It was saying a lot for the amount of bullshit life had heaped upon Neil, because Neil was one of the least well adjusted people Andrew knew—and Andrew associated with the likes of the Foxes. "My body didn't remember."
At that Andrew could only hum his understanding. He still woke up in a panic sometimes with the feel of hands on him, even after seeing those same hands pale and lifeless. Bee said the body kept score, even if the brain didn't. Andrew tried not to think about that too much.
"Will you watch last night's game with me and Kevin?"
Andrew very valiantly held back his sneer. With a colossal amount of restraint, Andrew merely grunted in response.
"Fine," Neil said. "Then sit with us and read."
Andrew said nothing, and Neil did not press him.
After their shower, Neil dried and dressed quickly, leaving their room without another word. Andrew knew him well enough to know that he wasn't upset about Andrew's non-answer, just ready to be indulged by Kevin and engaged in Exy. For his own part, Andrew took his time. He dried completely, a feat Neil never seemed capable of, and slid his armbands back on. He slowly worked through his after shower routine.
All told, it only took him around 15 minutes. By the time he was finished and wandered into the living room, Neil and Kevin were already on the couch. Kevin's long legs were stretched out on the ottoman; Neil was pressed against Kevin's side, his shorter legs atop Kevin's. A pair of headphones connected them in the middle. Neither of them looked up as Andrew entered, their eyes locked on Kevin's laptop screen. Next to Kevin's other arm was a notebook. He was absentmindedly tapping a pencil against the page as the two of them watched with astute focus.
Andrew grabbed his book from the table and sat next to Neil. Wordlessly, he slumped against Neil's side, settling his back into the redhead striker and stretching his legs out across the rest of the couch. Neil lifted his arm and draped it over the side of Andrew's head and his chest. The couch was just large enough to hold all three of them in this way. Startlingly, he found his relaxing Sunday back on track. In spite of Neil and Kevin's Exy obsession, this was pretty much exactly how Andrew had imagined his Sunday. With the two of them within arms reach, relaxed and stagnant. Maybe Kevin was right. Maybe they were all a lot more durable than they felt.
Andrew opened his book and let his own tension escape him.