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— Hello?
— Josten, why the hell am I the last one to find out that you won't be living on campus this year? — Allison's sharp and very displeased voice made Neil wince and pull the phone away from his ear.
Having just returned from the airport, Neil froze by the door of his new apartment with a key in hand. Yeah, apparently, he had underestimated how significant this news was.
— Hi, Allie, — he began, but the girl immediately cut him off:
— We were looking for you, and some freshman nerd is already sitting in your spot, — Allison said, followed by an awkward, “Sorry.” Apparently, she was in the boys' room.
— You just weren't the last to hear about it. I was planning to tell you all this evening. My roommate...
— Well, we're waiting. You owe us drinks. Dan and Matt are landing in an hour, and we're going to pick them up.
— Okay, see you later.
— Kisses.
As he stepped into the apartment, Neil felt both relief and cold. The latter wasn't only physical but emotional as well: the apartment seemed to have lost its soul and felt more spacious than usual. Changing into his house slippers, he headed to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, looked at the empty spot, and let out a heavy sigh, already feeling the loneliness creeping in.
And there were still three years ahead.
-----
The four-story white dormitory building of the University of South Carolina, Palmetto, was visible from afar and took Neil's breath away every time. Over two years of studying, the dorm had become his first home—a safe place he always wanted to return to. Leaving it turned out to be no easy task. He remembered arriving here once with nothing but a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and now he was leaving with two suitcases and a million memories. It was here that he found his family and finally became certain of one thing: family is not only blood.
The security guard let him through immediately when he spotted Neil carrying drinks. Today, students—mostly those who had already been studying here for more than a year—were moving in before the start of the semester, while others were simply celebrating their return from vacation. By tradition, everyone gathered in the huge basement common room of the dorm.
When the elevator stopped on the third floor, a pang of nostalgia twisted unpleasantly in his stomach. Neil paused in front of the room where he had lived for two years. Room 310—the place where everything had begun. Lively voices were already coming from the other side, and Neil couldn't help but smile.
Seth opened the door after exactly three knocks. Two months of vacation had hardly changed him at all: the same short boxer-style haircut, cheeks permanently flushed from laughter, endless energy, and a sleeveless plaid shirt thrown over a tank top.
— Hey, buddy, — he said, holding out a hand to Neil before pulling him into a half-hug and letting him inside.
The Neil who had just enrolled at the university and the freshman who had only recently received this room would have definitely laughed at the sight, while also rubbing the shoulder that had once taken a punch from the Seth of those days.
— Guys, our boy's here! — he shouted deeper into the room and, while Josten was taking off his shoes, grabbed the pack of beer from him and headed toward the kitchen.
— Neil.
— Hi.
— Darling!
A moment later, the voices of the others echoed through the hallway as they immediately spilled out to look at him like a pack of curious mutts. The girls had barely changed at all—except for their tans, something that had been impossible to notice through a laptop camera.
------
After warm greetings, a couple of drinks, and several rounds of entertaining games, after stories about memorable vacations from different corners of the state and the world, the group finally settled down a little. Everyone returned to their usual spots, discussing plans for the academic year that was about to begin.
— Neil, my little fox, why did you move out? — Allison asked, narrowing her eyes.
Everyone immediately looked at him as if they were seeing him for the first time.
— Yeah, when Seth told us about the new roommate, my mood was ruined instantly, — Matt grumbled, and Dan immediately pulled her boyfriend into a hug.
— Well, I wanted to tell you all in person today, but Allie and Seth apparently beat me to it.
— Tsk-tsk, don't play the good-boy card here, darling. Renee knew about your move, but Allie and I only found out today.
— Seth, I didn't know. The security guard told me, — Renee cut in as she opened another pizza box.
— Whatever. The important thing is, where are you living now? You didn't leave the university, did you?
— Wymack would personally twist his head off if he dropped out of college and left the most successful Exy team in the student league, — Janie said, and everyone except Allison nodded in agreement.
— I'm living in an apartment.
— Your own apartment?
— You finally accepted your uncle's gift? — Dan asked, and Neil grimaced.
— Must be nice being rich, — Seth muttered with a grin.
— What is that mobster even hoping for?! Neil, don't you dare fall for his fake concern. You need to become independent, — Allison hissed, tapping her long nails against the table.
— No, the opposite. Let him pretend to be an obedient good boy. Have you seen apartment prices these days? Neil, whisper in his ear and get him to put it in your name, — Seth said, ignoring the murderous look from his girlfriend.
Matt was already laughing beside him.
— You two are going to suffocate him with your parental overprotectiveness.
— Just imagine if Neil actually became one of those gangst—
— Janie, no! — both couples shouted at the same time, and Neil merely shook his head as he watched their familiar chaos unfold.
While his friends continued discussing his fate and cursing the Hatfords, Neil sipped lemonade through a straw and glanced over at Renee past Janie, who was gesturing animatedly. Renee watched the argument with a gentle smile.
— Renee, — he called, and she turned to him.
— Yes?
— When is Jean getting here?
— He and Wymack went to recruit a striker from San Jose. If Jean can't convince him in person this time either, we'll have to play almost without substitutes again this season, — she replied, pressing her lips together.
Neil let out a deep breath.
— What about the freshmen?
— I conducted a survey, but a lot of the freshmen this year are specializing in medicine—they simply don't have the time. The rest are more interested in football. The administration changed the requirements for athletic scholarships: seventy-five percent of the spots are now allocated specifically to football. They really don't have a choice.
— Clowns, — Neil snapped irritably, hating the university committee's hypocrisy, and silently began praying that Jean would manage to persuade that striker after all.
------
Jean and Wymack still hadn't managed to recruit that guy, and today, before Wymack had even landed in South Carolina, he had already sent the entire team the training schedule.
Everyone had spent the night in the boys' room, and in the morning Neil sat in the kitchen, listening to sleepy groans, disgruntled muttering, and an endless stream of curses directed at the committee. Because of the packed schedule, his own plans had been canceled as well.
Jean, meanwhile, sent several messages to the group chat, half of which consisted of French profanity. Judging by the tone, he was almost happy about the failure. According to him, Jack—the very striker they had tried to recruit—had turned out to be the worst possible option and had been demanding special treatment from the very first meeting.
"If he hadn't been our last option, we wouldn't have even wasted money on the trip," Neil quoted to himself as he read through the messages.
At the end, Jean wrote that this year they apparently wouldn't be leaving the field at all.
------
"We have a pre-game practice with the Texans before the match. We're flying out two days before the game."
"Did Gordon get badly injured?"
"A sprained thumb. He's strictly forbidden from holding a stick."
Neil reread the messages and noticed that the last one had been read the very second it was sent. He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the locker behind him. The disappointment of his ruined plans felt almost physical, and he looked wistfully at the black jersey inside his sports bag.
It was only the second month of the semester, and Gordon had already gotten injured. Because of the changes to the Texas team's roster, they had been forced to arrange an additional pre-game match. Neil had wanted to use those miserable two free days for his own purposes, but fate apparently had other plans.
Closing the chat, he noticed notifications from Stuart in another messenger, but without even reading them, he turned off his phone.
— You and Wymack have the exact same expression right now. Don't be upset. Tell your uncle—he'll understand. Coach, on the other hand, wanted to see his son on his one and only day off, but instead he's being forced to fly to Texas and postpone the meeting until next month, — Janie said, patting Neil on the shoulder as she entered the locker room. The others followed behind her.
— It's hard on him, but Kevin Day makes up for it by consistently keeping Wymack's bar stocked.
— And we consistently empty it.
— That's why Coach doesn't let us into his house anymore, — Dan giggled.
— Wait... Neil, is that a new phone? — Allison spotted the device far too quickly as he tried to discreetly shove it into his backpack, and Neil froze.
— Wow, slowly evolving, aren't we? — Seth whistled, high-fiving Matt before grimacing as he remembered his bandaged thumb.
— Other people's kids grow up so fast.
— Shut up, Jean.
— When did you buy it? Don't tell me you already have social media accounts. I'll block you immediately!
— Too bad I didn't have time to make any, — Neil replied dryly, completely ignoring Allison's reproachful look as she sat down beside him on the bench.
He eventually handed over the unfamiliar new phone while she examined the model with interest.
— Let's make him some accounts tonight. We were already planning to try out the menu at that new place together anyway, — Dan suggested, either saving him or finishing him off entirely.
The others immediately nodded in agreement, and Allison handed the phone back.
— Same one as Renee's. Sometimes I think the three of you are dating. Same habits, same clothes, same phones, — she rolled her eyes, and Jean let out an amused snort.
— Trust me, that ginger cockroach is definitely not my type.
— So now you're admitting that you like Renee? By the way, where is she? I'll go tell her, — Janie instantly jumped to her feet.
Now Neil was laughing along with everyone else as he watched the visibly nervous Frenchman.
— I think I know why Neil bought a phone.
— And why is that, Gordon?
— He's a huge Knights fan. Especially Minyard and Hawks. And this season Minyard made the main roster, while Hawks started a Twitter account.
— I bet fifty bucks Neil's first retweet will be a piece of Knights news.
— Thanks, Allie, but I'm still right here. And I'm not a Minyard fan.
— No, he'll write a hate post about that overrated striker. What's his name... Moriyama?
— Right! — Dan immediately backed up her boyfriend.
— No, he'll like something from Exites.
— Or he'll make a Minyard fan account, — Jean drawled, softly whistling and smirking at Neil.
— Bets start at twenty bucks. We don't take anything lower, — Allison announced louder than anyone else.
Neil merely shook his head, genuinely unsure why he was still friends with them.
They lingered for quite a while longer until Renee, already fully dressed in her goalkeeper gear, reminded everyone that practice was about to start.
-------
The university cafeteria was still packed even after the fourth class, and the group claimed a table by the window.
Thanksgiving was coming up, and before the holidays themselves, they still had a home game ahead of them. Everyone was discussing where they would spend their week off, and together they decided not to stay on campus.
Wymack, who had finally confirmed his relationship with the team's nurse Abby, had invited them all to his house as well so they wouldn't have to spend the holidays alone within the four walls of the dorm. As it turned out, though, everyone already had plans of their own.
Dan and Matt were heading to Georgia. Matt's mother was hosting a fan meet-up before her match and had already booked an apartment for the trip. Seth and Allison were going to spend the holiday at the Reynolds family home. According to Allison, her father had finally decided to give her choice a chance, and after four years of dating, they would be visiting her parents together for the first time. Renee and Jean had signed up for a volunteer program in Florida, while Janie, according to her, was planning to visit her mother.
— Neil, someone's looking at you, — Janie said, tossing a piece of corn onto his plate.
The others immediately fell quiet and, with suspiciously poor subtlety, shifted their attention toward Neil. It looked ridiculous.
— And? — he asked calmly.
People were always looking at him, and after that embarrassment on television, especially so. Even Stuart had sent him a voice message where he was practically wheezing with laughter after Neil's post-match interview following the game against the Jackals.
— She's on the cheer squad. She also does mental arithmetic and takes a literature course with me.
— Okay? — Neil still didn't understand where Janie was going with this.
— She hasn't taken her eyes off you since we walked in, — the girl hissed for some reason, sounding oddly irritated from across the table.
— If you say in an interview after losing by a single point, "The Jackals howl loudest around someone else's prey," trust me, people are going to remember you for a long time, — he rolled his eyes and continued eating his salad.
— Hopeless case, — Seth muttered dramatically, throwing a crumpled napkin.
Renee's shoulders were shaking suspiciously with laughter, though she carefully kept her eyes on her cheesecake.
— Bro, Janie was trying to say that the girl is interested in you. Maybe—
Matt didn't get to finish before Allison interrupted him.
— Don't even think about getting involved with cheerleaders.
— Allie, they're cute. And they support us every game.
— Doesn't matter. Neil, ignore them, — she pointed a threatening finger at him from the other end of the table.
The tiny glittering stones on her long acrylic nails sparkled in the sunlight pouring through the window. Neither Neil nor the others had ever understood why Allison hated cheerleaders so much, but judging by her reaction, it clearly went deeper than ordinary dislike, so nobody asked.
— Why would I need a girlfriend? I already have someone I love.
— You can't spend your whole life pining after Hawks... or whoever... Minyard, — Seth sighed heavily, looking more concerned about Neil's future than Neil himself.
— They don't interest me anyway, — he shrugged.
— Girls? — Jean asked suddenly.
Everyone immediately turned to look at the Frenchman.
One day, Neil was definitely going to strangle this idiot.
— What makes you think I'll answer that question?
— Whether you answer or not, silence usually means agreement, — Jean said calmly.
— I swear, I'm ready to kiss Wymack's hands for signing both a Frenchman and a Brit to the team, — Seth whispered very "quietly," making Matt snort into his fist.
— Then let's have a minute of silence in honor of the eleventh of November, — Neil said innocently, and Jean's eyelid immediately twitched.
— Renee, let me go. I'm about to kill this Brit who's eighty percent beans.
Jean shoved his chair back abruptly, and Neil broke into a grin.
— Try and catch me, — he said, childishly sticking out his tongue while everyone else barely held back their laughter.
A minute later, they were playing tag right in the middle of the cafeteria. The upperclassmen left at the table were doubled over laughing as they watched. Their eternal "we're obligated to hate each other out of tradition" had long since become a local meme, so Neil simply burned off his pent-up energy and adrenaline, sprinting up and down the staircases while fleeing from a furious, towering Frenchman.
-----
Allison had sent yet another screenshot to the group chat, and Neil had long since lost count of them. Ever since the home game, his phone hadn't stopped vibrating with notifications, and he had eventually hung up on a call that had lasted forty minutes.
Neil opened the picture and, rolling his eyes, typed something for the first time all day:
@imnotneil
"Why did you even decide to stalk me?"
Almost immediately, Matt replied, and the others instantly flooded the message with reactions.
@boydnotbond
"Son, you're the stalker here."
@allison
"If the reporter hadn't mentioned your likes during the interview, we would've never found out that you're genuinely down bad for Minyard!"
@jewannie
"I thought you only liked his playing style ^^ But you even liked his photoshoots and pictures of his biceps. Can't blame you."
@setisgordon
"What did I miss?"
@reneew
"Guys... isn't this kind of weird?"
@danessy
"Yes! We would've helped him win the war for Knights game tickets if he'd just told us!"
@jewannie
"Hehe, Dan, I think Renee means something slightly different."
@allison
"Don't worry, my little wolf. Mommy will buy you VIP tickets, and you'll get to see your first crush."
@imnotneil
"No."
@moreaujean
"Ooh, he's typing with a period now. How terrifying."
@boydnotbond
"Don't worry, Neil. Your first crush is supposed to be enjoyable. I hope you get to see him!"
@allison
"We counted around sixty posts that Neil liked. He absolutely has to see him!"
@imnotneil
"I already see him enough."
@setisgordon
"Wow, I just finished reading everything. No wonder the journalists exposed you, dude."
@moreaujean
"Smart thoughts chased him, but he was faster ♡"
@imnotneil
"Run into a wall ♡"
@jewannie
"Has anyone ever told you two that you act like a retired couple trapped in a toxic fifty-year marriage? ◕ᴗ◕"
@moreaujean
"You."
@imnotneil
"you."
Neil replied, and the chat immediately exploded with animated reactions and laughing-until-crying emojis.
He hated them. No. But still.
Shaking his head, Neil decided to check his flight time one more time. Opening the email account Renee had created for him years ago, he found his ticket to New York.
At last, time—which had once crawled by agonizingly slowly—had begun to fly forward. His heart was beating so fast it felt as though it were trying to outrun the blinking digits of the clock on his bedside table.
------
The forward’s stick clattered against the floor, and the ball once again came under the Californians’ control. The red-and-yellow team used a deceptive pass to send it to midfielder Mimi, who in turn passed it to the number twenty-four midfielder. Hawks and Layla tried to break through the opposing defense, but the twenty-four had already lofted the ball toward striker Jeremy near the goal.
Only, it seemed he misjudged the power.
A second later, before Jeremy could reach it, the Californians accidentally scored an own goal.
The score changed to 5:6, with only three minutes left on the clock. The commentators were already shouting at the top of their lungs, and the players on the bench were tossing their sticks into the air.
It seemed the Californians had no intention of going home in defeat, so right after the own goal they rushed back toward the center of the field. The goalkeeper, Catalina, threw the ball toward the midfielders; one of them immediately passed it to the newly joined Albert, and the debutant, without hesitation, sent it on to Jeremy.
Somehow, he was already in the opponent’s half, deep in the defensive zone, and instantly shot at goal.
— Come on! — Matt groaned, watching the game tensely.
But no.
The Knights’ goalkeeper, Minyard, spotted Jeremy at the very last second and made an unbelievable save, literally flying from one side of the six-meter goal to the other. He fell face-first, but his goalkeeper stick still managed to deflect the red-and-yellow ball.
The final whistle drowned out the roar of the fans.
— Yes!
— Man!
— Neil, you’re about to start drooling, — Allison giggled while everyone except Matt and Jean celebrated the Knights’ victory.
Neil quickly ran a hand over his chin to check.
After a week-long Thanksgiving break, they had finally returned to their usual routine, and that Friday evening they gathered in the girls’ room to watch the match—the only room with a TV, bought by Allison but funded collectively.
— That was incredible, — Dan said excitedly, and Renee nodded in agreement.
The girl exchanged a look with Janie, a hybrid player who combined striker and goalkeeper roles. Judging by their expressions, they were thinking the same thing: how to improve their goalkeeping skills.
As the cheers and screams gradually died down, the broadcast showed what was probably the best save of the Exy La Liga season. The commentators continued discussing the match’s top players, comparing Jeremy’s stats with the Knights’ captain Jacqueline, while the cameras cut to devoted New York Knights fans holding signs of their favorite players.
The screen briefly went dark before switching to a live broadcast from the stadium’s inner corridor. It showed a middle-aged journalist, Andrew Minyard, and the Knights’ captain Jacqueline.
Sweat ran through Minyard’s hair. He stood out of uniform, bare-chested, breathing heavily after the match, while the captain beside him was just now taking off her helmet with a wide smile.
— Neil, if anything, we understand you. Just look at that Achilles, — Matt said admiringly, apparently already forgetting his favorite team’s loss.
The girls immediately laughed.
— Stop it.
— No, now we understand why you like every post about Minyard.
— I hate all of you, — Neil pouted.
In response, they all chorused:
— No!
And separately:
— Mutual, — from Jean.
The interviewer asked questions about the opponents, discussed the Knights’ chances of winning La Liga, and reminded everyone that the next match would be decisive.
Then came a question that instantly silenced the room.
— Is it true you are leaving the team before Christmas?
Neil heard shocked gasps, and several more microphones were immediately pushed toward Andrew. He leaned forward himself to get a better view.
— I decided to give them a nice surprise for the most wonderful holiday, — he replied flatly, with a completely empty expression.
Matt gave a nervous laugh.
— Mr. Minyard, is this related to the contract or the team?
— Are you already considering offers?
— Do you plan to win the Champions League?
Questions poured in one after another, but Andrew, in his usual manner, simply turned around and walked away, ignoring them completely.
— Minyard’s contract is ending, but he has refused to renew it. Further information can be found on the club’s website. Thank you, — the Knights’ captain said, then hurried after the departing Andrew.
Security quickly stopped the journalists.
After such news, even the commentators were momentarily speechless, and the channel hastily switched to sponsor advertisements.
— Oh. My. God, — Seth said syllable by syllable, breaking the silence first.
— Caused chaos and left. Americans, — Jean shook his head, returning to his forgotten box of noodles.
— I wonder which team he’ll join?
— Is that even allowed? If a top club signs him, Minyard could win both La Liga and the Champions League! — Janie was already searching for season stats.
— And all that at twenty-six, — Matt said as if something deeply personal had been taken from him. Yes, everyone was jealous.
— What if he’s not planning to continue his career at all? — Allison asked.
— You think he burned out in two years?
— He’s said more than once he doesn’t like Exy.
— But Exy is what earns him money.
— Still…
— He will continue, — Neil said suddenly, firmly, hoping to stop Dan and Allison’s argument.
And maybe, with those words, he was trying to calm not them—but himself.
— Our little stalker knows best.
— Shut up, Jean.
— Imagine if he chooses the Phoenix. Kevin Day never stops talking about Minyard’s abilities, — Seth whistled, leaning back into the sofa.
— He’s the best goalkeeper in the world right now. His stats are higher than Phoenix players. I think Minyard will choose the Texas Matadors. It’s the richest team in the league. Last year they bought three defenders at once with salaries of 150 million a year.
— Betting?
— I’ll find a jar, — Dan said, standing up and heading toward the TV to find a makeshift betting pot.
— Just turn on the ligh…— she didn’t finish and accidentally hit the TV with her elbow.
It crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
Everyone stared at it in unison, as if even breathing too loudly could finish it off.
Finally Allison slowly stood up, turned on the main light, and broke the silence:
— Renee, please pray to your little god, and when we flip it over, let it still be alive.
— That, unfortunately, doesn’t work like that, — Renee sighed.
Dan quietly swore under her breath and carefully turned the TV over.
The screen greeted them with “No signal” and multicolored stripes spreading across the cracks.
-------
The morning practice after the match, along with all the associated calls to the repair shops, felt exhausting even for Neil.
Instead of his usual warm-up run before training, he was sitting in the spectator stands, yawning and staring at his phone. On the screen was a message from Wymack: start training without him—he would be about twenty minutes late.
Just as Neil was about to close the screen and join the others, a notification popped up from another messenger:
"I'm sure you'll like the next surprise."
He didn’t open the chat, only read the preview, rolled his eyes, and stood up from the bench.
— I thought you fell asleep, — Seth said when Neil walked over to the group. The others didn’t look much better either—yawning almost in unison.
— Found a technician? — Janie asked, leaning on her goalkeeper stick.
— No.
— So how are we supposed to watch the next final match?
— Matt, I already said we can just buy a new one, — Allison rolled her eyes.
— No, — Seth and Dan said at the same time.
— Allie, you bought the first one anyway. We can look for a technician or check Wymack’s place for now. And with our scholarship money, we can pool together and buy a new one by the end of the month, — Renee suggested.
Dan nodded beside her, gently patting her shoulder.
— Wymack won’t let us into his apartment, — Matt scoffed, sitting down on the bench.
— His apartment… hey, — Janie suddenly drawled, looking strangely at Neil.
— Why haven’t we ever been to your apartment?
— You never asked, — he replied, and immediately received a light hit on the back of the head from Seth.
— Do you even have a TV? — he asked.
— Yeah.
— Great. Then you’ll show us your place too.
— I can’t believe you’ve been studying here for almost four months and never showed us where you live, — Allison complained.
— Yeah, if it weren’t for Janie, I’d probably forget you even live separately, — Matt said, and Neil realized he had been sleeping in his old room three or four days a week. Sometimes he would pass out after practice during dinner, and then, feeling the cold and loneliness of a large apartment meant for one person, he started shamelessly sleeping in Jean’s bed, pushing him out.
— We don’t know what Neil’s apartment looks like, — Allison repeated, as if it were some kind of end-of-the-world revelation.
— You never asked. Besides, we didn’t have time to gather—we played seven matches in three months without substitutions, — Neil said, confused.
Dan shook her head nearby, her expression a mix of laughter and pity.
— Neil, darling, you don’t have to wait for questions. You’re supposed to invite your friends over yourself.
— See, even Allison forgot because of the chaos and tight training schedule. It’s fine, we’ll finally see your place. We’ll bring food, — Seth said, tapping his stick against Neil’s.
— Don’t forget to dust the windows. I’ll be judging, — Jean said, and Neil narrowed his eyes.
— You’re not invited!
— Neil, you just missed your chance to give him the wrong address! — Matt laughed from behind, and Neil cursed his sleepy brain.
------
Neil’s apartment, purchased at the beginning of August, was located in a ten-story residential complex in the city center, and it took him no more than five minutes to get to the university. The apartment was spacious, furnished in a comfortable Japandi-style interior, and filled with real sunlight streaming through panoramic windows, giving the space an almost unreal atmosphere. Neil still hadn’t bought proper curtains for them.
Today was match day, and out of the two leading teams, it would be decided who would become the La Liga champion.
Neil was just making popcorn when the doorbell finally rang.
— God bless everyone with a rich uncle like that, — Janie said as she walked in with Dan and looked around the apartment from ceiling to floor, then at Neil with wide eyes.
— I’m almost scared to find out how much this little piece of paradise costs. Can I move in with you? — Dan laughed, pulling snacks out of her backpack.
Half an hour later, the rest of the group arrived as well, collapsing at the entrance and praising the apartment without even stepping fully inside.
— After this, it feels embarrassing to go back to campus, — Seth said, shaking Neil’s hand.
— Neil, you’ve turned this place into a Minyard museum. Where did you even get all this merch, photos, magnets? — Allison shouted from somewhere—probably the kitchen, where she had disappeared.
— Welcome, — he said dryly and closed the door.
Before the match, the group gathered in the living room, greeting each other and warming up, when Matt came back from the kitchen with a drink in hand and sat into the nearest beanbag chair.
— Why didn’t you tell me you had a PlayStation? I see Diablo, remastered Sackboy, and even walking zombie soldiers, — he said, examining the shelves under the TV.
— I feel like he doesn’t even live alone. It’s actually cozy in here—look, there are beanbags in a place with this kind of design, — Allison gestured around dramatically.
— Neil’s personality is enough for all of us combined.
— Oh, shut up, Jean.
— I’m covering your skinny ass! — the Frenchman protested, and Neil smirked knowingly but still took offense at the “skinny ass.”
— My ass is not skinny!
— Silence, boys. Britons weren’t given a voice today.
— You’re in my house.
— Boys, the match is starting, — Renee raised the TV volume as everyone laughed.
The Knights vs Miami match began in complete chaos. Referees and commentators couldn’t keep up with the players or the fouls, and the game had to be paused every five minutes in the early first half. The referee—who had predicted Miami to win at the start of the season—handed out yellow cards to four players immediately, and when a Knights midfielder got injured, he didn’t call a foul on Miami at all. That infuriated not only Neil but even Matt and Jean, who never supported the Knights.
In the 45th minute, after a second warning whistle, the coach replaced the main defense and goalkeepers. Minyard stepped onto the field in all his glory, putting on his helmet and looking mockingly toward the Miami fans, who formed a dark ocean on the left side of the stadium.
— He knows how cool he is, — Janie whispered almost admiringly, and Neil couldn’t disagree.
The match ended 3:6 in favor of the Knights, and even the commentators didn’t miss the chance to say that not even added time could help Miami score against Minyard. The silver La Liga trophy was awarded to the Knights, and fans sang the club anthem with hands over their hearts.
While Minyard’s teammates celebrated and hugged each other, he stood across the field, leaning on his stick, seemingly in no hurry to go to the journalists or the team.
— Looks like it’s hard for him to say goodbye to them, — Matt sniffled, and Neil almost laughed, with Seth and Jean backing him up.
— Minyard? Boyd, trust me, that man graduated from our university and I’ve never seen a single emotion on his face other than boredom. He hates everything that exists, — Seth said, pouring the last of the ice into his cola.
— You were a freshman when he graduated, right?
— Yeah, but Renee is in her master’s program, she knows—she was in his class.
— Is that true? — Dan asked, turning to Renee.
— I wouldn’t say he hates people. He’s just not interested in anything and doesn’t want to waste mental energy on unnecessary things.
— No wonder Neil is obsessed with someone who’s so similar in personality. How long did it take to break this boy of his bad habits? — Allison said, ignoring his sour expression as she ruffled his hair, and the night continued.
------
A week had passed, and only a week remained until winter break. Instead of easing exams or even allowing them access to campus facilities, the university had decided to hold a charity match before the holidays. Wymack, whose eyelids were twitching from stress, gathered everyone in the Fox Hole common room today and handed them a list of teams to choose from.
— Pick faster. We have to play by the end of the week. We’ll announce it today, and training is this evening. Tomorrow the court is booked for another charity athletics match, — he said, switching channels and stopping on an Exy news broadcast.
— I have a philology exam on Friday, — Seth groaned, and Jean sympathetically patted him on the back.
Right at the moment Wymack was about to begin his usual rant about “I’m not paid enough to deal with your exams too,” the golden emblem of the channel appeared, interrupting the meaningless coverage of the upcoming university Exy tournament. The broadcast switched to a live conference from the New York Phoenix. In the hall sat Kevin Day, the coach’s son, the Phoenix head coaches, Kevin’s manager, and the captain of the firebirds, Maldani, who was reading something from a sheet in front of dozens of journalists and camera flashes. Since the live feed had switched in unexpectedly, none of them understood what was happening—Wymack included, who was now watching his son through the screen with his arms crossed.
“…This decision was not made lightly. We have many core players, but the Phoenix have built their name since the earliest years of Exy in this great world of sport. As a loyal club, as the hope of our fans, we took everyone’s opinion into account, and in order to continue moving forward triumphantly, we decided that the team needed a young, unique talent with outstanding performance in goal. Please welcome and love Andrew Minyard, number 13, officially the goalkeeper of the Phoenix,” Theodora Maldani finished, and applause erupted.
Journalists kept filming, camera flashes making it nearly impossible to see Andrew entering the conference room—he only became visible when the photographers finally got what they wanted. Kevin personally handed Minyard a jersey in a business suit and smiled into the cameras while the coaches continued applauding.
— Minyard in the Phoenix, — Dan repeated, her jaw dropping.
— You knew? — Seth asked, voicing Neil’s thoughts, and Wymack looked at them with his signature “are you dumb?” expression.
— Kevin said they had news, but I thought Andrew would choose the Boston Rangers. I’ll ask when he comes over for Christmas. He’ll drop by after Sunday’s match anyway. I’m taking a month off from the court—don’t look for me.
— Do you think he doesn’t fit the Phoenix? — Boyd asked, used to the coach’s muttering.
— No, his twin brother is in Boston. Neil, you didn’t know? — Wymack asked.
— It was meant to be a surprise.
— Coach, I don’t think Neil’s stalking has developed to that level, — Seth laughed hoarsely.
— What’s he talking about? — Wymack clearly didn’t understand, looking at him directly, and Neil shrugged.
— nevermind, so, if you’re done voting, I’ve got somewhere to be: a trigonometry exam. Can anyone drop me off?
He stood up from the couch and handed his sheet to Dan, the team captain.
— I have business at the archive, and Jean has literature. I can drive you, — Renee offered, and apparently Jean only just remembered his exam, because his face twisted in frustration.
------
Charity matches were part of the students’ responsibilities, and every year the university set the bar higher. This year, Exy players were required to cooperate with the opposing team, and the proceeds from ticket sales were to be donated to a university fund that supported a system of bonus scholarships for students from low-income families. Neil supported everything good that had to do with Exy, but playing an unplanned match—on exam day, no less—during this insane final week of the semester was driving him crazy.
Maybe it was because of sleep deprivation, or the full commitment of nine games in four months without substitutions, but as Neil was watching the Foxes vs. Musketeers game tied at 4:4, he suddenly collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
-----
Neil hated losing consciousness. It made him want to throw up everything in his stomach, but opening his eyes or even forcing out a sound felt impossible, and he felt awful in every possible way.
Suddenly, he heard his mother calling his name, but her voice sounded distant, as if it were trapped inside a vacuum—barely audible. He had to open his eyes, pull himself together, control his body. He had to help his mother, who was now scrubbing blood off the motel floor in Seattle, searching for a car suitable for escape. Neil opened the door of a dark room, hoping to find her in the bathroom, but instead a harsh burst of light hit his eyes, and pain shot through the back of his head again—probably from a blow with a blunt object.
— Neil, — he heard a clearer voice now, and he began to feel something like relief. His eyelids lifted heavily, but he couldn’t make out the person in front of him; blurred vision wouldn’t allow it.
— Mom? — he asked, and gentle hands touched his face again, wiping his eyes with something dry. That was when Neil realized it wasn’t his mother—it was Abby.
— Not quite, — she smiled awkwardly, managing to hand him a trash bin just before he started vomiting.
Where was his mother?
------
According to the guys and Abby herself, Neil had spent the rest of the evening and the entire night in the nurse’s office bed under vitamins and antibiotic IV drips, losing consciousness every five minutes and thoroughly terrifying everyone.
In the morning, a suspiciously disapproving Wymack, after several complaints from Neil, personally drove him to his apartment and even brought him a glass of water. But somehow, exactly five minutes after he left, the others showed up—still worried, but also clearly relieved to see Neil sitting upright.
— Dude, don’t ever do that again, — Seth said, clutching his chest, while Allison patted his hair.
— I’ve got files on a couple of new Exy recruits. I’m considering them for next year, — Jean said, but he wasn’t looking at Neil. Neil, however, was looking at him and saw the Frenchman biting his lip while Renee held his hand to calm him down.
— Oh, can someone translate what he just said? I feel like he meant he’s worried about me? — Neil asked, trying to break the awkward, slightly heavy atmosphere, and it seemed to work.
— I told you, he wasn’t hit in the head with a stick—he just has no brain! — Jean snapped, and even this time Renee couldn’t hold back a laugh.
— Neil, buddy, how did you manage to order a new Minyard Firebirds jersey so fast? — Matt shouted from the kitchen, where he had gone to bring him sliced fruit. Apparently, he had noticed the jersey on the wall.
— How are you so efficient, huh? You didn’t even have time for exams, — Janie said almost offendedly. She was his classmate and was still sitting on the living room floor, finishing her notes while everything around her was chaos.
— By day I am Neil Josten, an ordinary boy living an ordinary life.
But there’s something no one knows about me. It’s my secret, — Jean sang, and despite the dizziness and the laughter of his teammates sounding like hyenas, Neil threw a pillow at him.
An hour after the food delivery and a long conversation about everything and nothing, Neil felt himself calm down from their presence, relaxing while watching Matt and Seth fight over the console controller. Allison was sitting next to him, still gently stroking his head, running her thin elegant fingers through his hair. Janie, having finished her work, was finally eating pizza in large bites. Jean was on his phone, occasionally humming and typing again—his replies to Neil’s messages usually took about five business days. Renee was quietly talking with Dan—this was her final year, and Neil noticed she was giving advice more often, listening more, playing more. He couldn’t imagine the team without her, and he would definitely miss her.
The doorbell rang, and everyone exchanged confused looks like startled pigeons.
— Did you order something else?
— No, did anyone invite Wymack?
— Allie, he’s probably already meeting his son at the airport, — Dan replied.
— Then someone open it, — she said, glancing at the two guys fighting over the console. After a short stare-off, Matt finally accepted defeat with a sigh and went to the door.
Neil, still confused, turned sharply toward Jean after Dan’s comment, but the Frenchman only raised his eyebrows, beating him to any reaction.
Matt returned to the living room looking like all emotion had been drained from him, and now he was also staring at Neil as if seeing him for the first time after two years of knowing him.
— What happened? — Allison asked, but at that moment Andrew Minyard walked into the room, relaxed, carrying a travel bag with the golden Phoenix logo, wearing zero-prescription glasses and an empty expression. He dropped the bag beside the shelf and hummed softly, watching their collective shock.
— Andrew Minyard? — Janie almost screamed, choking on her pizza.
— No, I’m Aaron.
— Oh my God, pinch me!
— How did you get here?
— Dude, transferring to the Phoenix was a mistake, — Seth said, shaking his head, and Neil snorted.
— Are you here for Kevin’s company?
— Is this an interrogation? I came to visit my partner.
— Boyfriend, — Neil corrected him, and Andrew rolled his eyes, while Allison let out a squeak and immediately covered her mouth.
Neil knew Andrew Minyard was an asshole. But he also knew he was the closest and most important person in his life: his shield, his anchor, the reason things stayed steady, and one of the reasons he even had real friends at all. Andrew Minyard, as many said, was cold, rude, and self-absorbed, but none of that was entirely true.
He looked at the man in black, hands in his pockets, seeming bored—but Neil noticed the tension in his shoulders and the restless movements of his fingers that he kept hidden. Andrew knew how to worry, how to care, and right now he was doing exactly that. For him. And that thought made Neil want to squeal with happiness and stomp his feet like a child.
— Oh. My. God.
— Pinch me, — Dan repeated, shooting Boyd a murderous look when he actually did it.
— Neil, what the hell do you mean we didn’t know you had a boyfriend who is literally Andrew Minyard? — Allison’s voice rose with every word.
— You never asked, — Neil replied, and Jean laughed hoarsely.
— You knew? God, you all knew? — Janie pouted, looking at Renee and Jean, who seemed far calmer than the rest.
— I knew. I’m literally his best friend, — Jean said, his face twisting as if he had just said something painfully honest.
— I figured it out. I also knew Andrew. Neil kept saying he wasn’t his fan and that he already had someone important in his life, — Renee said calmly, and Neil understood why everyone liked her so much. She nodded at Andrew in greeting, and he returned it.
— I can’t believe it.
— Neil Josten, you have to explain this!
— So Wymack knew too!
— That’s why he was looking at us like idiots that day.
— Seth, he always looks at us like that.
------
More short remarks and questions followed, and the others decided to leave and give them a chance to be alone in their own apartment. More precisely, Renee simply gently led the rest away, who were still confused about everything, and the apartment immediately fell silent. Usually, when Neil was left in silence, it was a heavy silence — lonely and cold, exposing all his carefully hidden anxieties. But next to Andrew, it was completely different.
Andrew told him that he had learned the news from Wymack only upon arriving at the airport, and Neil remembered that charity matches are usually not broadcast, and Andrew and Kevin had gone there right after practice.
Now he is lying on his thighs, and Andrew is massaging his scalp so well that Neil would purr if he could.
— Your friends are idiots too, just like you, — he says casually, and Neil snorts.
— Sir, how did you come to that conclusion?
— I know you. Just remember how long it took you before you realized that I literally, fuck, confessed to you.
— You looked like you had eaten something green, then said you hated me, and then kissed me. Minyard, maybe you had a lot of experience, but for me it was the first time, — Neil says with one eye half-open and sees Andrew roll his.
— And the last one, — Andrew says, making his sleepiness completely fade away.
— Wait, did you just almost propose to me?
— Don’t get ahead of yourself.
— I absolutely will. The most talented, beautiful, famous, strong person almost proposed to me — yes, I’m going to shout about it.
— How do I shut you up? Hm? — Andrew leans toward him, adjusting his cap on the tip of his nose.
— You know how, — Neil smiles and pulls him closer, forcing Andrew to lean in.
------
Three years ago.
Neil Josten. It seemed like an ordinary name and surname — the most common, and easy to pronounce — but Neil had gone through and returned from seven circles of hell to earn it. The final circle ended at the FBI headquarters.
Eighteen-year-old Nathaniel Wesninski, who became Neil Josten — who had literally picked a name at random just to end those endless heart-to-heart conversations with agents — and who would turn nineteen at the end of next month, suddenly realized he no longer had a reason to live.
The FBI found his father, Nathan Wesninski — a man who tried to build his own clan with stolen, bloody money — and shot him when he tried to escape. The FBI sent special people to dig up his mother’s remains and bury them at his request. The FBI contacted Stuart Hatford, made a deal, and Neil saw his uncle for the first time in many years — he did not feel his warm embrace or the reason for his tears, but he still hugged him back and stared into emptiness. Everything was empty: inside, around him, even in his eyes.
His world was buried again in a suburban Maryland cemetery. His world was gone, and Neil understood that there was no longer any point in running or surviving. If he was being drowned — he would take everyone down with him.
And there he stands, looking at the night-moving city, where people are busy with their lives and do not even care about the night sky. Stuart had his own business in this state; he put him up in a hotel and left, promising that the guards at the door would do whatever was needed. But they would not find meaning or answers to the millions of questions for Neil, so he stepped out onto the balcony, used the fire escape, and climbed onto the hotel roof.
The city looked tiny. The night wind caressed his face, and the thin windbreaker made him shiver within minutes. He looked down: in front of the hotel stood a sports bus, white limousines, and small porters carrying suitcases of arriving and departing guests back and forth.
— Could you die not on my shift?– a voice is heard behind him, and Neil flinches all over from the suddenness.
He turns around and sees a blond-haired guy with a bored expression and an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. His uniform belongs to the hotel — Neil had seen lotus emblems as soon as they arrived here, everywhere.
— What’s it to you?
,— I’d like to finish my part-time job without psychological trauma for my brothers. They’re very impressionable: one is a future medic, but afraid of dead bodies, and the other is just afraid.
— And you?
— I’ve seen things worse than death,— he says and sits on the edge, but doesn’t look down.
— You talk a lot?
— Believe me, death is the easiest thing,– he nods; — Andrew Minyard.
He offers him a cigarette from the pack — the cheapest kind. Neil immediately recognizes the brand: his mother always frowned at the sight of it and chose something more expensive for herself.
— I’m used to it. Neil Josten,— he sighs and takes the offered cigarette, then sits on the edge as well.
Who would have known that this random person, who just wanted to smoke on his break, would change his life, turn everything upside down, and become his meaning, his world. He would give him stability, faith, and a new perspective on life.