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Neil was alive.
It was an odd thing to think, that Neil Josten of all people was still alive. He had spent so many years running, and fighting for survival that being to actually live, just felt wrong. Neil Josten felt like he didn't deserve to live after everything that had happened, sometimes he didn't even feel alive, except on the court. On the court Neil Josten could let everything slip away as his brain focused on the game around him at breakneck speed, and this year Neil had the privilege to be Captain of the PSU Foxes. Apart from Aaron who was still studying medicine, Neil’s Foxes had all graduated and left the Foxhole Court, but they had never left Neil. Matt visited him almost every week to go out for coffee, Renee and Allison would drag him to sleepovers once a fortnight, and the monsters would drag him to Edens whenever they could. And most importantly, Andrew Minyard, who would always call him every night after practice, the two of them sitting in silence, staring intently through the screen. Andrew had even shown up some weekends to help remind Neil what he was living for, other than spite, and made sure that the ginger took care of himself. Despite them all reaching out as much as they could, Neil still missed his Foxes.
It was the last game that Neil would ever play as a Fox, and he promised himself he wouldn't cry, a promise that was broken when he saw all the past Foxes in the stands. When Neil saw them all, he broke out into tears, overwhelmed with joy upon seeing all his friends -no- his family, there to cheer him on for his last game. It had been an overwhelming year, stressed out with Captaining, studying, and fighting for a place on Court so he wouldn't meet the same fate as Riko. Somehow Neil had done it, all of it, he beat the devil twice and was now, somewhat, free to live. To celebrate the win, Neil went out to Edens with the Foxes for what felt would be the last time, even Nicky had even flown in from Germany, bringing Erik with him, and Neil couldn't be more grateful. The Foxes were adamant to stay in Palmetto to watch as Neil walked the stage with his cap and gown, an experience he never believed he'd get to live, but Neil Josten did get to live. Betsy, Abby, Wymac, and the Foxes had nearly killed Neil in a suffocating hug, flooding him with praise and congratulations, even Aaron had given Neil kind words that two years ago had felt impossible. But that left Neil with his current problem.
Neil was sitting on the floor of his dorm room, chest contracting painfully as he stared down at the black duffle bag that had held his secrets for so long, a bag he had relied on so desperately, a bag that had now betrayed him. For years Neil had been able to stuff everything he owned into a single bag that he carried around with him for years, but now Neil was in his third and last year at PSU and stared down at his bag, eyes filled with horror. The bag was full. No, that was wrong, the bag wasn't full, it was overflowing. For the third time in Neil didn't know how long, he threw his bag upside down, watching as everything tumbled out. Frantically, Neil folded his clothes in the way his mother taught him, using them to hide his binder close to the bottom, but by the time Neil finished pacing his shirts and hoodies, the bag was full again, and Neil was full of rage and anguish. Neil Josten had spent so long relying on his ability to grab everything in one fell swoop, and run that the thought of having more than one bag made him want to vomit with fear.
Teras began to well in Neil blue eyes, and they grew back faster than he could wipe them away with enough intensity that they began to burn. Neil's chest grew even tighter than before, so tight that Neil began to think he was dying. That wicked thought burrowed deep in Neil’s head, so far back that it was impossible to pull the silly notion back to reality, and the fear began to take root. He did it again, again, and again, but no matter how Neil tried to pack his thing in the small duffle bag that had always offered him a delicate, minute ounce of security, it wouldn't fit.
Neil could faintly hear the buzz of his barely charged phone on the now empty dresser, but instead of the solace that came with the familiar sound, euphoria shooting through him at the thought of talking to the Foxes, it was fear that gripped at his bones. All of Neil's pent up anxieties, that has slowly risen as he packed, led to him becoming irrational and thrown into fight or flight, and another sick thought crept up inside of him. It’s Lola, he thought, it’s Lola telling me that I’m at 0, that I’m out of time! Neil’s chest heaved at an unhealthy rate and he was overcome with the need to run, the need to throw only the essentials into his duffle bag and run until Palmetto was nothing more than a memory. All logic, and all coping mechanisms Betsy had taught him were pushed away from the forefront of his mind, replaced with the desperate need for survival.
Neil shot up from the floor and stumbled towards the door, but he moved too quickly little, dizzy as well from his ragged breathing, he immediately crumpled back to the floor and reduced to crawling into a corner for some semblance of safety. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die! The thought repeated, aided by the repeating buzz of his phone, and as logic was thrown out the window, Neil couldn't reason with himself and remember the fact that Lola was dead, she couldn't hurt him anymore. Rationality didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was survival, getting out of here alive, getting away from Lola and from his father.
Neil's head was spinning as his surroundings began to blur into a mess of shapes and colours, unsteady breaths ripped his lungs apart as they went down without coming back up. Through the buzz of Neil’s mind, he could vaguely comprehend the fact that he was having a panic attack, he’d had enough of his own and seen enough of Kevin’s to understand what was happening, but the fear rushing through him wouldn’t let him rationalise anything at the moment. A dizzy fuzz ran through him just as a new wave of nausea hit, aiding in Neil’s belief that he was in fact dying. He began to claw at his own chest and throat, unable to drag in another breath, but just as Neil felt as if he’d pass out, Neil felt a pressure on the back of his neck.
Neil’s eyes flew up towards the figure towering above him, an unmovable pillar of stability that offered a strange sense of comfort despite the cold glare. Andrew sat before Neil on the back of his heels, a hand pressed down on the back of the ginger throat and wrapping around to feel his hammering pulse.
“Breath Junkie.” And although Neil could barely hear the words, he found himself attempting to follow the command, failing miserably however as the sorry excuse for a breath felt as if it would rip him open as it went down. “I said to breathe, Abram, not gasp like a fish out of water.”
The use of his middle name managed to push through the haze of Neil’s clouded mind and remind him of where he was, who he was with, and Neil finally sucked in a somewhat proper breath for what felt like the first time in forever. The two of them both sat in safe silence for moments longer, eyes locked, with Andrew practically daring Neil’s body to go back into fight or flight. The silence was however broken by Andrew's curiosity and coveted worry as he survived the mess that was the room.
“What happened here, Junkie?”
“Nothing, it’s fine.” Neil croaked out, his throat dry and sore from the hyperventilating.
“Nothing, doesn't lead to you sat on the floor dying of oxygen deprivation. God if Kevin were here right now he’d kick your ass.”
Neil averted his eyes from Andrew's harsh glare, only for the blond’s other hand to grasp his chin harshly and force his gaze back.
“The phone.” Neil admitted shamefully. “It just kept buzzing, and I thought…I thought it was Lola.” Fresh tears began to prick at his eyes at his words, shame filling his body at the weakness and vulnerability he felt.
Andrew however didn’t seem pleased with that answer, raising an eyebrow in acquisition. “Well that's a new reaction. I don’t recall you having a panic attack whenever I ring you. What else happened?”
“I can’t pack my bag.” Neil blurred out after moments of quiet consideration. “I kept trying but I can barely fit my clothes in there before it’s already overflowing!”
Andrew sat silent for a few more moments, watching as Neil began to fold into himself and gripped desperately at his hair, before he stood up and disappeared from Neil's line of sight, coming back with a roll of bin bags.
“It’s not the best option, but it’ll work for now, you’ve got ten minutes to throw your shit in these whilst I go talk to Aaron.” Andrew threw to roll into Neil’s lap and waited for the ginger to stumble back to his feet before walking out of the room.
Just as he had promised, Andrew walked back into the room ten minutes later, finding Neil staring down at the two full bin bags with murderous intent. Deciding that now was not a good time to poke the bear, Andrew settled instead with picking up one of the bags and waiting for Neil to grab both his other bag and his duffle, giving a nod towards the phone still sat on the dresser when Neil did grab his bags and walk towards the door.
“Is that thing even charged?” Andrew asked as they walked out the door, giving a curt nod towards his brother, who was sat on the sofa with his girlfriend.
In response, Neil simply just flipped it open and showed the nearly dead phone to the shorter blond man. Andrew rolled his eyes upon seeing its percentage, making a mental note to throw a charger at Neil when they got to the house in Columbia.
Once in the car, with the bags thrown in the bag, Andrew passed a chilled coffee cup that had been sat next to a now cold one. “I picked myself up a hot chocolate on the way here and was feeling nice so bought you some coffee, black. Though it’s no doubt cold by now.”
Despite that, Neil still took a long swig, in desperate need for some sort of energy after the exhausting ordeal that was his earlier panic attack. Andrew didn't start the car until Neil finished his disgusting exhaust for a drink, throwing both of their empty cups out of the car window and into a nearby bin with horrifying precision.
“Are you gonna tell me why you were staring bloody murder at those bags?” Andrew asked over the sound of music that was sounding through the warming car, although it wasn't really a question.
“It’s nothing.” Neil insisted stubbornly, but Andrew wasn’t having any of that.
“Truth.” He demanded, getting really sick, really quickly, of Neil’s jumpy rabbit routine.
Apart from the music pouring from the radio, the car fell back into silence, not the secure one that Neil revelled in, instead an uncomfortable one as he chewed on his inner cheek, searching for words.
“We weren't allowed more than one bag each.” Neil finally pushed out, his voice quiet and just barely above a whisper, avoiding Andrew's eyes which were seemingly transfixed on the cigarette that had materialised between his fingers, untouched smoke snaking out of the cracked open window. “If it didn’t fit into that one bag then we left it behind, more stuff weighed us down, made us slow, and slow made you dead.”
“Having only one bag didn't seem to save your mother.” Andrew pointed out bluntly, handing Neil his untouched cigarette, not bothering to pull out another one for himself.
Silence one again hung between them, this time more comfortably however, tears begging to prick at Neil’s bloodshot eyes once more.
“It just feels weird.” Neil admitted. “Travelling with this much stuff with me just feels…wrong, doesn't feel safe. I’m sorry, I’m so sorr-.”
“Just shut up.” Andrew interrupted, pulling the car out of its space and driving in the opposite direction than they usually took to Columbia.
“Where are we going?” Neil asked tentatively, confused by the divergence in their usual route.
“Millport.” Andrew answered casually, as if Neil had merely asked him for the weather.
“What! Why?” Neil asked, turning in his seat to face Andrew.
“Because you’ve got a problem Junkie, you can't go anywhere without panicking if your shit doesn't fit into that damn duffle bag. So, we’re retracing the steps your mother and you took so that you can see for yourself that it’s not the end of the world, try and get some closure whilst we’re at it.”
Closure. It was something Betsy had recommended to Neil during one of their sessions with Andrew, it was after he had had a particularly bad, nightmare and flashback filled week.
“Why don't you try taking the route your mother and you took when you were on the run, try and show yourself that it’s okay, that you don't need to move from place to place at an uncomfortable pace just to stay alive.”
Betsy’s words echoed in the back of Neil’s mind, the session had been weeks ago, Andrew had come over to check on Neil after Aaron had snitched on him.
“-say no Abram.” Neil was pulled from his thoughts by his middle name, only just catching the end of the blond man's sentence. Andrew gave an elongated sigh before repeating himself. “If you really don't want to do this Neil, then just tell me and I’ll turn the car around.”
“What about Kevin?” Neil redirected, remembering how the taller man was supposed to spend some time with Neil and Andrew this summer after a week in California with Jean and Jeremy, Neil and Andrew were planning on helping Kevin with his drinking and panic attacks, something the coach had also suggested.
“Jean and Jeremy and take care of him, they’ll probably manage to do a better job than us at helping that dumbass out.” Andrew stated, no doubt remembering how traumatised both Matt and Aaron had ended up after he tried to ‘help’ them with their addictions. “Tell me no Junkie.”
Neil leaned back in his seat and thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in his head, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, he was scared, scared of the trauma that had chased him his entire life, scared of what horrors would chase him if he got too close. But on the other hand, there was Andrew. Andrew, who had been there for him through it all, promising to protect Neil no matter what was in store, and Neil was so sick of making Andrew pick up the broken pieces that came apart whenever he awoke from nightmares.
“So Millport first?” Neil asked, deciding that he was done with running, done with hiding from his past and trauma, desperate for some sort of closure that had always escaped him.
“Millport first.” Andrew confirmed. Those two words offered more comfort, security and safety than Neil had ever been offered before he came to Palmetto.