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Kevin lost track of time.
He doesn’t remember the specific moment he let it get this bad. At every corner, there’s whispers. In the dark of his room as he tries to sleep, he hears it. The taste of water in his mouth doesn’t make Riko’s voice go away. Burying himself in history books and pushing the others to be better than what they believe they are during practice isn’t effective.
It’s the same thing every time.
Nicky won’t push back at Matt because they’re fooling around and Kevin has the urge to swipe his racquet at his ankles. He’ll say what he usually says but it isn’t right. There’s too much bite in his words, too much force behind his hands when he shoves Nicky that Matt would have to step in before everyone else inevitably interferes too.
They chalk it up as Kevin being who he is—the arrogant queen of the court, the one who prioritizes Exy above all else. And while that may be true, he cares. Kevin cares so much that it tears him apart inside to the point that his only crutch is alcohol.
It’s late. Or early. Kevin can’t tell with the closed blinds covering the window as he leans over the edge of his bed with a groan. His arm dangles, his hand knocking over a glass and the bottle accompanying it. There’s pressure from the hangover weighing down his body, blood rushing to his head like thunder rattling in his skull. The room spins once. Twice. Three times before the nausea builds then the bile.
Kevin’s body shakes violently with the force of his coughs. His ears ring out with a high-pitched squeal, tears prick the corner of his eyes, and his face grows cold like he’s about to pass out.
As his senses return to him, he’s acutely aware of the warm palm on the nape of his neck. A trash can beneath where he dry-heaved because he’s not even sure when was the last time he ate. There’s faint mutters above him and he groans again as everything hits him full force and he swallows dryly to bite back whatever else is trying to escape his throat.
Kevin blinks slowly. His vision is blurred from the unshed tears but he recognizes those black jeans kneeling on the floor beside him. He knows those ridiculous orange converse standing just in view.
“Kevin,” Andrew says. “Earth to Kevin.”
Kevin mumbles incoherently and turns over onto his back. He’s splayed out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while the whispers return in the back of his mind.
Kevin, Kevin, Kevin, the voice says. Riko’s taunting tone and Kevin can almost hear the disapproving click of his tongue. I always said you’re nothing without me.
Look at yourself.
Nothing.
You hit the bottom of that bottle trying to leave me behind. You left, remember? I know you like to pretend you didn’t.
How could you leave your brother behind, Kevin?
Kevin.
“Kevin.”
His gaze shifts from the ceiling to Andrew and Neil already staring back at him with varying expressions. In that moment, for a split second, he sees Jean and Nathaniel. He sees his old room. Black walls. Red pillowcases. No light. No windows. Just pure emptiness.
Kevin drags a heavy hand down his face, trying to rid those images. He knows he got out. He knows he’s a Fox now and Jean’s in California with Jeremy and the Trojans.
So why is it so hard to believe that?
Andrew and Neil are saying something but he can’t hear it. The ringing returns and he feels sick to his stomach.
Then the room brightens. Startling golden light bearing down through the glass panes of the afternoon sun. Kevin squints his eyes and groans at the sudden change but he can see it now.
The bunk beds.
Books on the floor. Neil’s running shoes by the door. The ashtray with cigarette butts on the nightstand near the window.
Andrew sits on the edge of the bed beside Kevin’s legs while Neil moves from opening the curtains back to Andrew’s side. They’re looking at him like they know what’s going through his head.
Do they, really? No one will ever understand you, Kevin. They don’t care to.
“Up,” Andrew says without room for argument. He stands to go rummage through the drawers for Kevin’s change of clothes.
It’s only then Kevin realizes he probably must reek of alcohol and misery. But there’s no pity on their faces. There never is and it makes Kevin feel a little less guilty about the state he’s in.
Neil takes occupancy from Andrew’s previous position and he stares for a moment before asking, “Where are you?”
Kevin pushes himself up slowly to sit. He slouches as he rubs his eyes. “Fox Tower.” He’s surprised at the sound of how hoarse his voice is.
“What time is it?” Andrew asks, closing one drawer to open the other.
“One in the afternoon or something?” Kevin answers unsure and he earns a shake of disagreement from two heads.
"Try four-thirty,” Neil supplies helpfully. Kevin sighs deeply at that. His shoulders hunch forward and he drops his head.
He doesn’t remember how long he stayed awake for. How many drinks he had before abandoning the glass to drink straight from the bottle. From the sound of it earlier, it’s empty. “I didn’t know.”
Andrew tosses a fresh pair of clothes over onto Kevin’s lap and gestures to the bathroom with a tilt of his head. “We know. Go shower.”
Kevin nods and gathers up the clothes in his hands. He rises off the bed with weak legs, bile already rising up his throat hust by the movement and he swallowed harshly. “Where are we going?”
Neil drums his hands on his knees before standing up as well then shoves his hands in his pockets with a shrug. “A drive. Go shower. We’ll be in the kitchen.”
Kevin leaves the room without another word.
He trudges towards the bathroom on unstable feet. He feels around the wall for the light switch, turning it on before shutting the door behind him and drops his clothes onto the counter.
The man staring back at him is unrecognizable. From the messy, run-through hair to the tired look in his eyes like he’s aged five more years in just one night. He used to think he resembled Kayleigh the most with her eyes and her smile for as long as he could remember. Had her will and her strength and her passion. Kevin still thinks he does. But never more in this moment can he begin to see the resemblance to Wymack too.
God. Kevin catches himself heavily with a hand to the counter and rubs his eyes with his finger and thumb, suddenly feeling the urge to cry but nothing will come out. Please, I can’t do this anymore.
He hardly even has the energy to pull off his clothes and take that shower but he does so anyway.
It takes ten minutes to realize where he is again underneath the spray of the water. It takes another ten to wash his body and rinse it off before resting his head against the wall to stop everything from spinning. It takes another ten to shut off the water and step out to dry up and get changed.
Somehow, Kevin eventually makes his way into the kitchen after dropping his dirty clothes in the laundry basket.
Neil is idly waiting by the counter near Andrew. His fingers tap a mindless rhythm to the marble while his legs are crossed at the ankles. It seems like Neil is talking nonsense as Andrew maneuvers the stove. The scent of eggs, bacon, and pancakes filling the air. Kevin knows better though. He’s watched the two of them for a while now.
To anyone else it’d look like Andrew is ignoring Neil but he isn’t. In reality, Andrew is holding onto every word no matter how meaningless they are.
At the sound of Kevin approaching, Neil turns his head and tilts it toward the awaiting cup of coffee and two pieces of toast on a napkin. “Eat,” Neil says. “You look like the dead.”
“I feel like it too,” Kevin murmurs and picks up a piece of toast to bite from first before the coffee. It’s a little bit on the burnt side with a bitter aftertaste but the melted butter makes up for it. Neither of them never really managed to time the toaster right.
One setting is too hot, the other not hot enough that the bread comes out flimsy and like cardboard. Nicky would complain about it all the time when Andrew had everything of his in one place before being trusting enough to let him and Aaron room with Matt. Aaron purposely burned the toast once just to spite Nicky while Kevin sat at the table eating a bowl of cereal.
Lucky Charms, he recalls. Andrew thought it was hilarious to get a box of one because of the rainbow and the leprechaun in response to finding out Kevin is half-Irish. “All you’re missing is the red hair," Andrew pointed out. Nicky laughed when Aaron brought that up again. Said they had their own leprechaun except he doesn’t disappear and just causes problems. That was after the championships against the Ravens.
We’ll be the greatest pair of strikers the world has ever seen. I swear it now, Kevin, just watch.
Are you watching?
Kevin never once took his eyes off Riko, not at all. But his attention wasn’t the only one Riko wanted. And he wonders now, if that was his mistake. If telling Riko once, when he asked how Kevin had Kayleigh’s attention the most, that it was because he played well when young, because he was her mini-me, was a mistake. Telling Riko it’s because Kayleigh is his mom, why wouldn’t she pay attention to him, was a mistake.
Kevin doesn’t pretend to understand Riko like he once did. He doesn’t excuse his actions but he still wonders if he could’ve changed the course of Riko’s life if he knew what to say. Kevin doesn’t know what it’s like to be in Riko’s position. In not being wanted or cared for or paid attention to.
Maybe that’s where the doubt started to come in. The envy. The first domino that led to Kevin’s broken hand and him running at the first chance to people that would take him in.
Then Kevin got better and Riko was angry.
“Stop that.”
Kevin blinks, eyes flicking from Neil to Andrew standing in front of him with a plate of lunch in hand. He takes the plate and slowly asks, “Stop…what?”
Andrew taps the butt of the spatula to Kevin’s chest twice. Then a harsh little nudge that causes Kevin to stumble backward. “That. Stay here. You have spent enough time in your head.”
Kevin feels like he hasn't. If that were true, he should be better now. Neil and Andrew shouldn't be wasting away precious time to pull him together.
The two share another look. A silent conversation with barely any sort of expression or gesture. Like telepathy. How they can understand each other so intensely and intimately within a year, Kevin doesn't know. But it ended a moment later and Neil takes the plate from Andrew and leads Kevin to the table.
Neil slides the plate over to Kevin and as he eats, Neil goes into a ramble of the practice he missed. His thoughts about the plays and complaints about the freshmen. He's distracting him from slipping into his head.
Kevin is grateful for it.
"What's wrong with you?" Andrew asks once they've driven away from Fox Tower with no set destination in mind.
Kevin opens his mouth to say nothing but thinks better of it. Andrew won't appreciate it and Neil will call him out. The irony of that isn't lost on him. He rubs the scar on his left hand with his thumb. "I still hear him," he murmurs. His leg bounces up and down restlessly and anxiety pools in his stomach. "Riko. I still hear him."
"What does he say to you?"
Kevin doesn't want to answer that question. Not at all. They won't understand why he's torturing himself with the memory of Riko. Why it's important for him to be the one to mourn him. Neil and Andrew hate him. Jean was afraid but holds the same disdain.
Riko wasn't always a monster. He used to be kinder. He was once selfless. He and Kevin would run around chasing after one another. Kevin should've paid more attention. He should've noticed when Riko would run ahead and leave him behind. See him not as his brother but a prized possession.
"Kevin, you can't hope to move on with your life if you're going to let him trap you again," Neil says. "He's dead. "
Kevin frowns. "I know that."
"It is not your fault," Andrew says as he turns down the corner and onto the highway. Andrew taps his finger against the wheel idly. His words aren't meant to be reassuring but harsh. Not comfort but a reminder that Kevin has and will always be more than Riko. It doesn't do him good to wallow over someone who doesn't deserve it. "He brought it upon himself."
Kevin rubs his face with a groan. "It's not—" The words lodge in his throat because what can he say? It isn't like that?
"It's not what?" Andrew asks and flicks his eyes towards the rear view mirror for a second but Kevin glances away. "Say it or this conversation ends."
"It's not—" Kevin bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. "I'm not mourning the Riko you both know. It's who he was before," he says slowly, forcing his thoughts into words.
Andrew doesn't say anything but Neil kicks his feet up on the dashboard as if that's what they needed to hear all along. "Look, Kevin," Neil sighs out, "you can mourn him all you like but stop torturing yourself. You're the deadliest piece on the board. You're better. You're alive."
"If you drown in vodka again, that will change," Andrew says and Kevin can't help but snort.
Kevin is alive. That has to count for something.