Archive of Our Own

It all starts with a throwaway comment from the most unlikely person.

Nicky has been annoyingly persistent about capturing a “lovey-dovey” photo of Andrew and Neil. He bugs Neil about it again after practice (because of course he can’t bother Andrew without getting stabbed), cornering them in the lounge.

“It’s for prosperity!” He pleads for the fiftieth time that week. “So baby foxes of generations to come will know the epic love story of Palmetto State!”

“You already have pictures of Kevin hugging his Vodka bottle,” Neil quips without missing a beat. “I don’t know what Andrew and I have to do with it.”

Kevin merely flips him off from across the room.

“Neil!” Nicky stomps his foot in aggravation. “I am not graduating without a photo of the two of you!”

“You won’t be graduating at all if you don’t finish your psych project this week,” Aaron mutters.

Nicky waves his comment off like a pesky fly. “Just one picture?” he begs.

Beside him, Andrew lets out an annoyed huff. Neil agrees. He’s starting to get irritated. “Drop it, Nicky,” he warns.

“But we’ll be graduating before you know it, and I want to remember all the good times we’ve had! I promise I won’t put it on Facebook, or MySpace – well, maybe MySpace – but other than that-”

Enough is enough. Neil opens his mouth to let out a scathing reply when Dan beats him to it.

“I’d listen to Neil if I were you, Nicky,” she grins. “Better drop it before he sics Andrew on you.”

The other foxes start chuckling as Nicky throws his hands up in defeat, apologizing as he warily looks at Andrew. Just a slight flick of his hand towards his armbands has Nicky dancing back a few steps. And then the matter is settled. Nicky is literally backing off the subject which is exactly what Neil wanted. So why does he feel so annoyed?

“What do you mean by that?”

The room hushes as the team looks back at him. Dan’s brows draw together as if confused why he is upset. Why is he upset?

“Uh, earth to Neil. It’s not like your overprotective boyfriend would kill someone the moment they looked at you wrong,” Allison sarcastically interjects. “Oh wait, yes he would.”

Andrew shoots her a look at the term ‘boyfriend’, but Neil refuses to let the subject change. “I don’t need him to protect me. I can protect myself.”

This earns him a variety of looks from his teammates, ranging from amused to pathetic. Andrew doesn’t bother meeting Neil’s gaze when he turns towards him, busying himself with zipping up his duffel bag.

“Of course you can,” Renee smiles sweetly as she watches shock dance across his face. “It’s just that when trouble seems to find you-”

“-or you find trouble-,” Aaron cuts in.

“-it’s nice to know that you have Andrew by your side to help should anything go wrong.”

“Well,” Neil starts, unsure of what he wants to say. “Right, but-”

“Come on buddy, it’s not a big deal,” Matt sends him a warm smile. “Having someone look out for you is a good thing. Someone who’s always there when you need it.” He winks largely at Dan who just rolls her eyes.

They are getting this all wrong. He doesn’t need anyone. He wants Andrew - specifically chose Andrew, in fact - but he doesn’t need him. Neil doesn’t need a bodyguard; he isn’t Kevin.

Neil turns to Andrew then, expecting some kind of support. Any, really. But Andrew just shrugs. “You refused our knives,” he reminds Neil pointedly.

Neil is floored. They don’t believe him. He ran from the mafia for over 10 years, was forced to learn languages to navigate countries, scraped blood and bone off the floor from injuries that were the farthest thing from an accident, and survived walking through hellish snowstorms in hole-strewn sneakers and wet socks. And they think he can’t take care of himself.

They think he has gone soft. Or maybe even worse- that he’s weak.

Apparently, they forgot that he chooses to be gentle with them. That he stayed because he was tired of running, had provoked Riko and sacrificed himself to Lola because he had chosen them over his own safety, his own dreams. They forgot who the bones of Neil is- Nathaniel was- where he had come from, and where he’d been.

He feels his temper flush through him, blood boiling hot as his anger grows. What did they really know about him? What did they know of what he’d done to survive?

Before he can respond, Wymack walks through the door and addresses his team. The Foxes settle down into their spots, growing quiet as they listen. Neil hears none of it though, his coach’s voice an indecipherable buzz in his ears that continues to grow louder and louder. When it gets to be too much, Neil simply stands up and leaves.

He thinks he may have heard a curse, and Wymack shouting Andrew’s name, but then Neil is running.

Andrew can give the others a ride. He needs the fresh air tonight.

He’s already showered and is flipping through TV channels randomly when he hears the Foxes return. Low murmurs and footsteps echo in the corridor as they draw closer. Neil doesn’t turn his attention from the TV as Andrew and Kevin let themselves in. Kevin pauses for a second, as if he is surprised to see Neil, before walking to the bedroom and shutting the door.

Coward, Neil thinks, irritated.

Andrew doesn’t move from the entrance. Neil can feel the weight of his stare, but for once he chooses to ignore it and let Andrew break the silence.

He doesn’t.

A few seconds later, Neil hears the door shut, Andrew presumably going up to the roof. He probably assumes Neil will follow. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he just wants to avoid Neil and his pissy attitude at the moment. Which is fine with Neil. He doesn’t want to talk anyway.

So he zones out on some nature documentary for an hour, not taking in a single word, before finally giving up. He stalks into the bedroom, avoiding Kevin gaping at him, and crawls into his bunk, shoving the covers over his face.

Eventually, Kevin turns off the light and he drifts in and out of sleep. He freezes when he hears the door open again hours later, old habits dying hard. But he relaxes as he recognizes the footsteps entering the room. They pause near his cot, and Neil feels his heartbeat speed up. Can Andrew tell he’s still awake?

Apparently not, because a few moments later he’s climbing the ladder into his bunk. There’s a rustling of the sheets as Andrew gets settled before silence takes over the room once more.

Neil squashes his disappointment ruthlessly. There is no rule that says they must sleep together. Just because he and Andrew have been sharing a bed for the past couple months doesn’t mean they can’t choose to sleep separately. Never mind the fact that they normally only do so after a bad night. It doesn’t have to be bad for them to choose this.

He tries to relish in the fact that he has the room to spread out on his cot and relax. It takes him forever to fall asleep. He feels like he deserves it when the nightmares come for him in the early morning.

____________________________________________________________________________________

They are missing out on practice for this, and it’s all Andrew’s fault.

Neil lets his resentment towards the goalie rise in him freely as he glares at the officer. Because Andrew had to pull his knife out on some dick who’d been goading Aaron at the coffee shop, and the guy had the nerve to draw his own weapon, a registered gun, now they had a security incident on their hands.

In exchange for silence, Wymack agreed to the team running through a safety course with their local police force. It was a pointless waste of time in Neil’s opinion, and he suspects that most of his team agrees with him, but he can’t fault the guy for trying. Perhaps if the demo had been given to a bunch of high school students, they would have been interested in being taken to a shooting range. They may have been curious at being shown a real gun, maybe even excited at the prospect of shooting it.

Neil is utterly annoyed.

“Gun safety is extremely important,” the guy smiles and drones on for what must be the fifth time. “But we know that some of the interest is in the mystery of it. Knowing how a gun is loaded, how to recognize whether the safety is on, etc. can be useful no matter if you never plan to use one. Why don’t we have one of you try it?”

He points down to the table where a gun is currently in pieces, a full magazine of bullets beside it.

“How about you, son?”

Neil tunes back in as his teammates turn to stare at him. The officer is waving a hand at him. “Come on up, don’t be shy.”

Neil spares a glance at Wymack. His coach narrows his eyes and jerks his head, a silent but obvious get the fuck up there now. Neil sighs and stands.

He ignores the lifted eyebrow Andrew sends his way as he passes him.

The officer smiles as Neil approaches, moving to his side of the table so that he stands next to Neil. “There we go. Now have you ever held a gun before, son?”

Neil remains silent.

“No shame in that at all, a lot of folks haven’t. Nothing to be nervous about though either. We’ll just take this nice and slow-”

Neil can hear someone snicker behind him. He thinks it might be Nicky, perhaps Aaron. It probably is Jack. Regardless, the sound causes something to snap inside him.

“-now, how about you try it?”

Relieved that the officer has finally stopped blathering on with instructions, Neil whips into action. In a matter of seconds, he has the gun assembled and loaded. Without pausing for breath, he draws the weapon up and fires on the target. The movements are second nature, something he remembers as easy as breathing. Three bullets to the head, three to the heart. He can hear the man curse beside him. Just as swiftly as he started, he unloads and dismantles the weapon so that it’s in pieces on the table again. Then he turns back to the officer.

For a few moments, no one moves. Neil can feel his teammates staring at him, their silence deafening.

The officer stares down at the table before returning Neil’s gaze. Then he whistles to someone out of sight. The target starts moving, drawing closer to them. Neil knows without looking that the bullets found their mark.

Again, the man turns to stare at the target in disbelief before spinning back to Neil. He shrugs. “Standard issue semi-automatic. My mother’s favorite.” He can hear Nicky’s indrawn breath; the small noise Dan makes at the back of her throat at her mention.

The officer seems to hesitate before asking, “And your father?”

Neil smiles coldly. “He preferred knives.”

Then he turns and sits back down. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them hard. He takes deep controlled breaths, counting to ten in his head in German, Spanish, French and finally Russian. He refuses to look at any of his teammates- especially Andrew. Though he can feel his gaze boring a hole into the side of his head.

“I call Neil on my team for paintball,” Matt jokes weakly, finally breaking the silence.

The safety demonstration ends shortly after.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It’s day four of them not talking. Not that Neil thinks any of his teammates can tell. They are used to the silent conversations that pass between the two men. Neil can’t bring himself to tell anyone that now they are just silent.

It’s none of their business anyway.

Andrew is like a ghost, haunting his every step but refusing to speak even as he refuses to leave Neil’s side. The tension between them is thick and choking. Neil feels as if they are at an impasse, a weird competition going between them to see who will break first. Neil refuses to.

But he also doesn’t understand why he is being so stubborn about this. What makes this so important. Because it feels that way- it feels important that he win this. Whatever ‘this’ is.

Out of his peripheral view, he watches Andrew scratch absently again at his armband with the hand not holding his beer. Clearly one of the knives is bothering him. Normally, Neil would offer to hold the drink for him so he could adjust it. He might even have offered to adjust it himself.

Before his traitorous mouth can open and propose the tempting suggestion, Dan motions to them, a hazy finger pointing up. Good, they are getting out of here.

With a sigh, he follows his drunken teammates up the stairs out of the dingy basement of whatever dorm this is. He is glad to leave the party, and even more excited for his bed than he is willing to admit out loud. Fatigue dogs his every step. Maybe if he is lucky, he’ll actually get some sleep tonight.

His foggy brain sharpens as he hears a couple of catcalls and whistles. Narrowing his gaze, he looks back to where Renee and Allison were walking arm in arm behind him. They have barely made it up the stairs and are standing near the wall of the building, presumably catching their breath. A couple of guys from the football team have locked onto the pair, and while Neil can’t hear what they are saying, their tone has him on edge.

Normally he wouldn’t think twice. Renee can take care of herself. But Allison is completely wasted, stumbling along on five-inch heels and leaning heavily on Renee. Renee takes the weight graciously, but it leaves her open and vulnerable. Neil doesn’t like it.

Without meaning to, he takes a couple steps forward and feels Andrew follow beside him. As he draws closer, the words become clear.

“-lift that skirt, and pry open those thighs- baby, I know you want it-”

That is all he needs to hear.

“Yes or no?” He snaps at Andrew.

Andrew stares at him, a tilt of his head the only indicator of his confusion.

Neil grits his teeth, forcing himself to swallow the urge to repeat himself.

He can feel Andrew searching his face, hard enough where he can almost feel the gaze brushing against his scars. He isn’t sure what Andrew is looking for, but after a brief moment, he nods. “Yes.”

Neil doesn’t waste time. He snatches the knives out from under Andrew’s armbands, careful not to touch his skin as he slides them out, and spins on the assholes.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Light from the streetlamp flashes against the knives as he throws them, embedding themselves into the wall behind one of the guys. Both of them shout. One falls backwards onto the ground and scuttles away from the sound. The guy he’d aimed the knives at tries to follow but finds he can’t- his clothes have been pinned to the wall.

Neil tosses the fourth knife he holds in his hand casually as he walks up to the wall. When he reaches it, he slams his foot onto the wall between the guy’s legs, a mere inch from where it would hurt most. He hears the guy whimper, sees the terror in his eyes as Neil slowly draws a line over the guy’s hip with the edge of the knife.

“Listen well, fuckface. You’re going to apologize to my friends here, and then you’re going to take your pathetic dicks and go back to whatever hellhole you crawled out of. After that, I’m never going to see your face again. Because if I do, I will turn it into my own personal carving board.” He smiles then, a feral showing of teeth. “As you can see, I’ve already had practice.”

The kid’s gaze flickers to the marks on Neil’s face and widens in understanding. He mumbles out an apology towards the girls before ripping himself away from Neil and the wall, shredding his clothes in the process.

It’s amazing sometimes how adrenaline and fear can motivate a person. Neil knows firsthand.

He watches the two hightail it away from the building before turning and retrieving the knives from the wall.

“What the hell was that?” Kevin snaps behind him.

Neil turns and finds his teammates staring back at him. They also apparently turned back and witnessed his little display of animosity.

Neil shrugs, handing the knives back to Andrew without looking at him. Their fingers brush briefly, and he fights the shudder that races up his arm, turning instead towards Renee and Allison. “Are you guys okay?” he asks quietly.

“Of course, thank you Neil,” Renee smiles.

Allison gives him a loopy grin and an obnoxious thumbs up. “Hell yeah, we’re f-fine! Dang Neil. Looked like- looked like some kinda crimefighter there. Wicked hot. Bet someone’s gonna frisk you tonight!”

Sometimes Neil wonders why Allison and Nicky don’t get along better since they both have no filter.

“Seriously Josten, what the fuck?” Aaron demands.

“Since when can you throw knives?” Matt asks in wonder. “Have you always been able to do that?”

Neil presses a hand to his temple to try and relieve the headache he can feel coming on. “It doesn’t matter.” He is so tired.

“It doesn’t matter that you can throw sharp objects from 30 feet away with pinpoint accuracy,” Aaron deadpans. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

“Think you could do it again?” Nicky asks excitedly, holding his phone out with the flash on. “I’m ready for it this time!”

Neil flinches away from the bright light, holding a hand up to block it as he moves past him. He balls his other hand into a fist. For a moment, he can still feel the cool weight of the knives there, the fine edge as they slip from his fingers. It makes his stomach twist and knot, nausea rising rapidly.

Ignoring protests, he starts the long trek back to Fox tower. Silently, Andrew joins him. Neil slides one long look at him from the corner of his eye and stifles a sigh. The irony is not lost on him that this would probably be one of the only bets Allison wouldn’t win.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Fuck.” Aaron stares at the open hood of the Maserati, and the steam billowing out of it. Then he says it again for good measure. “Fuck.”

They’re all standing in the middle of some random parking lot, watching Andrew swear quietly as he tinkers with the engine. Neil is surprised they were able to make it this far; that the car chose to break down in a semi-public space versus a back road. He counts them as lucky. He’s had much worse.

The others don’t seem to agree, however.

Aaron keeps glaring at the vehicle as if through anger alone he can revive it. Kevin paces off to the side and mutters under his breath, probably annoyed at the inconvenience. And Nicky keeps offering Andrew unhelpful suggestions.

“Maybe it’s the radiator? Or the alternator? Or check the carburetor? Oh! Or how about the-”

“Are you just naming off words that end with ‘or’?” Kevin snaps. “Or are those the only car parts you know?”

Nicky’s cheeks heat but he flips Kevin off before leaning down next to Andrew again.

“Ugh, I can’t get a signal,” Aaron snaps, flipping his phone shut.

“So?” Neil asks.

“So, Neil, no signal means no tow truck. No tow truck means we’re stuck here until who the fuck knows when!”

Neil shrugs. He’s slept in a car before. At least it’s not snowing.

“No!” Kevin looks horrified. “I have a Western Civ exam tomorrow. I can’t miss it!”

“My god, it’s one test, Kev, get over yourself,” Nicky rolls his eyes. “The world isn’t going to end.”

“Coach will be forced to bench me if I miss more than-”

“You were just bragging to us the other day about your 4.0 GPA. My heart bleeds for you.”

Kevin scowls, probably the only college student alive irritated by the reminder of perfect grades. “Fine. But I’m also not sleeping out in the middle of nowhere with you idiots! I didn’t even want to go on this trip!”

“You have to eat food sometime, Kevin,” Andrew drawls. “Ergo shopping.”

“We’re nowhere near the grocery store!”

“And whose fault is that?” Andrew asks flatly. “I wasn’t the one who asked to visit the stickball shop.”

Kevin starts muttering under his breath again.

“Well I refuse to sleep out here either,” Aaron chimes in.

Andrew points down the barren road. “Then start walking.”

Nicky makes a strangled noise in his throat. “But Andrew, we’re miles away from campus! It’ll take us hours!”

“Do you have a better solution?” Andrew snaps.

Neil rolls his eyes as the group continues to bicker. He thinks this isn’t worth the fuss. It doesn’t bother him either way, whether they decide to start walking or stay, but he’s tired of all the noise. Time to improvise. He scans the mostly empty parking lot before he finds something he thinks will work.

The guys take no notice of him until they hear the noise.

With identical expressions of disbelief, they turn as Neil revs the engine again.

“What. The Actual. Fuck.” Aaron’s mouth drops.

“Oh my god,” Nicky whimpers.

“Neil, you can’t just take someone’s bike!” Kevin hisses.

“Did you hot-wire that?” Aaron asks, his tone a mixture of awe and distaste.

Neil shrugs. “Feel free to sleep in the car then, Kev. You and Nicky can cuddle.” He ignores the insults in French Kevin throws his way and continues. “There’s a strip mall an exit back. It’s bound to have a gas station or something where we can call a tow truck. We’ll leave the bike there and let an employee report it.”

He tosses a helmet at Andrew who catches it blankly. He looks down at it. Then back up at Neil.

Day 7 going on 8.

“Get on,” Neil says. He’s already got one leg draped over the bike, foot resting on the pedal. He stares at Andrew who stares right back.

“Wait, why does Andrew get to go with you?” Nicky pouts.

“Because he owns the vehicle,” Neil says simply. He turns back to Andrew. “Put it on.”

Andrew scowls. “Why don’t you wear it?”

“Because I’m not the one who’s never ridden a motorcycle before.”

Andrew glares at him. Then he mulishly puts the helmet on and stalks over to Neil. He pauses. His hands ball into fists.

Nicky hides his mouth behind his hand while Aaron starts to smirk.

Andrew whips his head around like he’s somehow heard them, but whatever expression he has on his face is blocked by the dark visor. After a few seconds, he turns back and seems to steel his shoulders against something. Then he throws a leg over the seat behind Neil.

The bike dips slightly with the weight of the two of them.

“Hold on,” Neil tells him. When Andrew doesn’t move, Neil sighs. “Arms around my waist, Minyard. We’re not moving otherwise.”

He hears Andrew growl. Neil waits.

Finally, Andrew slides forward and places his arms tentatively around Neil’s waist.

Nicky and Aaron begin snickering openly. Kevin drags a hand down his face and shakes his head as if defeated.

Neil ignores them by leaning forward, flipping up the kickstand, and shifting into gear. He punches the motorcycle, whipping out of the parking lot in seconds and leaving the rest of the monsters behind them.

The wind whips in his face, the machine hums between his thighs, and Andrew’s tight heat encompasses his back as they speed down the highway. He tries to focus on it, this feeling of being alive, instead of the memories of his mother that are trying to crowd in at the edges of his mind.

The first time she’d nabbed a vehicle, he’d gotten a bloody lip for protesting.

“Isn’t this stealing?”

“It’s called using whatever is available at hand to your advantage, Abram. Now watch and learn.”

He should have known better. Mary came from a notorious crime family, after all.

Weakness is being predictable. Run fast and run far. Don’t look back.

He thinks of a time when their car had broken down in Paris, while they were being chased. His mother had hastily hot-wired a bike, throwing him on it as they wove through traffic; past the Eiffel Tower, past the Louvre, swaying between lanes by the Arc de Triomphe. He’d barely glimpsed at the landmarks, he’d been so frightened. Back then, he sat in Andrew’s place, clutching onto his mother’s back and praying all of the stray gunshots went wide.

Like all the other times in Neil’s life, that prayer went unanswered.

Andrew’s hand, pointing towards the exit, brings Neil back to the present. He sucks in a deep breath before taking the off ramp, pulling into the nearest gas station. He watches Andrew walk inside before parking the bike around the back. Then he sits on the sidewalk and waits, head in his hands, fingers threaded through his hair.

Breathe. In. Out. Just breathe.

He jerks as he feels something cool on the back of his neck.

Andrew merely lifts an eyebrow as he continues to hold out the cold water bottle. Neil takes it gratefully and sucks down half as Andrew sits down on the curb next to him, drinking his own orange soda. Neil caps his bottle and drops it on the ground between his legs. He fiddles with the edge of his kneecap, and plucks at a thread on the edge of his shorts before he finally breaks. “Thank you,” he whispers into the space between them.

Andrew lets out a short huff of breath, the only sign he gives of hearing Neil.

They are two mountains, standing cold and proud. Between them is a valley of silence, a divide that obscures them from one another like low-hanging fog. It surrounds and separates them so that Neil feels like he can barely see Andrew, even though he’s sitting right in front of him. He suddenly understands Andrew’s constant desire to feel his pulse. He wants to ensure Andrew is real, that he’s still there, that he is just as affected by this as Neil is. To reach out his hand and feel the smooth column of Andrew’s throat and the grounding, steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips. His desire to touch borders on desperate, almost unfathomable in its intensity.

So instead, Neil does nothing.

He will not let himself be like them.

He looks down at his outstretched hands, elbows resting on his knees, palms open wide and fingers spread.

Run, Abram. His mother’s voice whispers. Run until they can’t see the blood on your hands anymore.

Neil clenches his hands, balling them into fists. Then he closes his eyes, leans back onto the warm pavement, and settles in to wait for the tow truck to arrive.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Damn it. Nicky stole one of his yogurts again.

It really shouldn’t irritate him so much. In fact, on a normal day, Neil would have been glad that the obnoxious cousin was actually putting something healthy in his body, since he could be just as bad as Andrew about consuming junk. But today, it's the last straw.

He’s going to kill him.

Day 9 going on 10.

Filled with a disproportionate amount of rage for the supposed crime, Neil whips open the dorm door to stalk towards Matt’s room. The hallway is crowded for once, his mind imperceptibly registering Renee and Allison chatting by their door with Matt, Kevin and Aaron arguing about something by the stairs, and Dan opening the door of the suite he was looking to go into.

He barely takes a step forward when he hears someone shout, “Stop that asshole!”

His body acts before he has the chance to think about it.

He swerves as someone runs into him, and instinctively strikes out like a cobra. Stomach, groin, nose. One, two, three jabs and Neil does nothing to lessen the blows. His target lets out a series of pained grunts in succession. They’re too shocked to retaliate and crumple to the floor in front of him. Neil considers the guy coolly, noting for the first time the blood spattering his shirt and the backpack next to him.

“Holy shit,” a voice says in front of him.

Neil looks up to see one of the soccer team’s members in front of him. He’s panting and red-faced. Neil assumes he’d been chasing the guy- probably had also shouted the warning. Neil bends down to the ground, smirking when he sees the thief flinch. He swipes the backpack and holds it up. “Yours presumably?”

“Yes, thank you,” soccer-team guy breathes. “That was fucking awesome. You looked like a goddamn ninja. What’s your name?”

Nathaniel Wesninski.

“Neil Josten. Striker, Exy team.”

“Terry Humboldt. Forward, Soccer team.” The guy grins. “Looks like I might have to come to an Exy game for once.”

“Don’t expect the favor to be returned,” Neil says flatly.

Terry chuckles as if Neil is joking. He isn’t. “Dude, I owe you one. Seriously. You ever need help, you just give our team a call. We got your back.”

Neil merely lifts an eyebrow at the guy. He doesn’t need pledges of allegiance.

“Hey, why don’t you come join us on Friday? We’re going to a party at this fraternity-”

Neil ignores him, taking one last look at the guy on the floor, who has the audacity to pass out on them. He cuts Terry off, asking, “I’m assuming you’ll take care of this piece of shit? He’s dirtying our carpet.”

Terry laughs and shouts something behind him. “Yeah, don’t worry.” Neil watches his smile turn malicious. “My team will take care of him.”

A bunch of guys from the soccer team ascend the stairs, dragging the unconscious body off their floor and sending Neil nods of thanks. Terry turns towards Neil one last time and, without warning, squeezes his shoulder in thanks before taking off after his teammates.

Neil fights the urge to shudder, revulsion crawling up his throat at the touch.

A coppery smell wafts up to his nose. He stares down at his hands and sees blood there, probably from the asshole’s nose, but for a second his vision flickers. Have his wounds opened again? They’re raw. He can see them split, can feel the flesh burning...

“Neil. Neil.”

Neil snaps his head up to see his teammates surrounding him.

“Since when the fuck did you become a vigilante?” Allison asks him pointedly, cutting right to the chase.

“The way you moved,” Matt repeats in awe, “you were just like- bam, bam, bam- and then he went down. Like down for the count. It was incredible! You didn’t even blink!”

“It was like the moves were second-nature,” Renee says quietly, her tone of one who had finally put two and two together. And of course Renee would figure it out. Disarming someone was second-nature to him. It was years of practice of being caught off-guard, of having to fend for his life, of being required to know where the weakest points of an attacker were or die.

She stares at him and sees the truth reflected in his eyes. He doesn’t need to spar with her because he knows how to already. And unlike the practiced sessions of play-fighting between her and Andrew, he also knows he wouldn’t have the strength to stop. To hold back.

How ironic it is that they call Andrew the monster, when he is the one born and trained to kill.

“Can you play?” Kevin snaps, nodding towards his hands.

“Seriously, Kevin?” Allison accuses him, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. “Stickball, right now?”

“Don’t call it that,” Kevin returns. “And yes, right now, because I need to know if Neil can play. If Neil doesn’t play, then he dies.”

Thanks for the reminder.

“Jesus, Kevin!” Matt snarls. “He knows, all right? And he’s allowed to take a day off.” Matt turns towards Neil. “Aren’t you?”

If you fail to make the cut after graduation, the deal is forfeit and you will be executed. Do you understand?

Ichirou’s words echo in his ear, the cold promise sneaking up Neil’s spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Neil?” Kevin prompts.

Neil refuses to look at them right now. “I’m fine.”

Several teammates hiss at the statement. Neil ignores them.

Movement catches his eye, and he watches Dan turn and look towards the stairwell. She makes a face that clearly says Well? Do something about this. He follows her gaze and locks eyes with Andrew.

Apparently, he had come down from the roof at some point. Neil could see he was wind burnt- a light shade of pink infused his cheeks, ears and nose. His right hand is frozen over his left armband, as if he had been poised to fight before something stopped him. Now he just stands there, watching Neil with the rest of the Foxes.

For once, the sight fills Neil with grim satisfaction. See? He could take care of himself. He didn’t need Andrew to jump in every time there was a threat. He’d handled it just fine on his own.

But there is something in Andrew’s eyes that pulls at him. It feels hot and painful, as if he’s swallowed one of the knives he knows are tucked away against that forearm.

Neil breaks the eye contact with a sharp twist, unable to hold it any longer. He takes one last look at Matt’s suite door, but the anger that drove him earlier was gone, flattened by adrenaline and violence. He could feel exhaustion creeping in, like shadows as the light fades.

“Neil?” He turns and is surprised to see Aaron staring at him. His face looks bored, but Neil can see the wariness in his narrowed eyes. “You good? Or are you gonna give me a bloody nose too if I try and go back to my room?”

He points towards the door as if it’s not obvious that he has to move past Neil to cross the hallway. As if he’s unsure whether, at this moment, Neil will strike one of his teammates because he’s in a mood. The words are brave, even flippant, but Neil can see the cowardice hiding behind it.

The juxtaposing emotions of alertness and resignation in Aaron’s gaze unwittingly show he’s probably faced this dilemma a thousand times before with his mother. That he associates Neil with it now, pisses him off instantly.

“Might give you one anyway just because I don’t like your face,” Neil snaps back. It’s a childish retort, a spiteful jab at what Aaron’s insinuating, but he says it with such venom that his team reacts viscerally.

Aaron’s eyes widen, his face drawing back instinctively. Dan and Matt’s heads whip back in shock. Kevin takes a step forward, a single hand lifting towards Aaron’s shoulder, preparing to pull him back if necessary. Renee shifts her stance slightly. Allison just squints at him, her eyes betraying her as they flick to Andrew curiously. Because how could he threaten to hurt a face that looked exactly like the person he lov-

No. He won’t go there.

“What’s going on?” Nicky stares at them from the open doorway of Matt’s suite in confusion. He’s wearing hot pink shorts, a black sleeveless t-shirt with rainbow lips that says I licked it, so it’s mine, and obvious bedhead. He’s also eating from a suspiciously familiar-looking yogurt container.

And Neil is over all of it.

“Are we done with the inquiries?” he snarls, ignoring Nicky. “Because I’m going for a run.”

It’s a lie, and they know it. He is in jeans and wearing the wrong sneakers, but they don’t say anything as he walks by them and heads down the stairs.

“Wait, what- what did I say?” he hears Nicky cry behind him.

“Don’t worry about it, Nicky, he’ll be back,” answers Renee.

But he has the feeling she’s saying that more for Andrew’s benefit. Especially as Neil feels the weight of Andrew’s gaze land squarely in the center of his back.

He opens the doors of the Fox Tower and runs off into the night, refusing to look back.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“What the hell is going on?” Wymack demands.

Dan and Neil stare back at him defiantly. Well, Neil does anyway.

He can feel the bruise of Kevin’s sucker punch forming on his face, knows that it will be black and blue by tomorrow. Lucky bastard had only landed it because Neil had been distracted.

“I mean it, captains, start talking or the team starts running,” Wymack growls. “Who started this bullshit?”

He feels more than sees Dan’s eyes slide to his face. Traitor.

He’d only been an asshole because Kevin had been one first, riding his ass the moment he’d walked through the court doors.

I don’t know what the hell your problem is lately, Kevin had whipped out in French, lightning-quick, but you need to get your head out of your ass and back on this court.

Fuck you, Neil had returned with heat. I’m here, aren’t I?

Are you? Kevin questioned. You’re slow, sloppy. A freshmen could beat you like this- Jack could beat you like this.

Neil saw Jack’s head whip up in interest, having heard his name. He assumed, correctly, that Kevin was insulting Neil. His eyes glinted, ready to pounce on any opportunity that presented itself.

And now Andrew was paying attention. He’d been stalling nearby, Neil knew, slowing putting on his gloves as the slurred, elongated vowels of the language hissed between Kevin and Neil. But his shoulders had tensed at the mention of Jack.

They’d gone twelve days without really speaking to one another. Twelve days without touching, without long glances, without crushed cigarettes, double-edged retorts and unwavering trust. Twelve days of this truly being nothing.

Neil grit his teeth as Kevin rambled on.

I need you to pay attention. I need your head here. Now. You gave your game to me, did you not?

I seem to recall taking it back.

Then do something with it. Because whatever this is, is embarrassing to watch.

I’m doing fine.

Bullshit. You’ll never make Court like this. You need me.

I don’t need anyone. Neil was snarling now in Kevin’s face. When had they got so close?

Really? I’m sure Andrew would have something to say about that, Kevin snaps back, his green eyes digging into Neil’s face, seeing entirely too much. Or are the two of you still pretending this is nothing?

Andrew’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his name.

And Neil was done.

It is nothing, but it’s more than what you’ll ever have with Riko. At least both of us are still alive.

The words were vicious, spilling from his mouth without thought. An instinct to hurt and cause pain rising from some hidden depth.

And barely a second later, Kevin had reacted with a fist to his face.

Neil refuses to admit that the sting he feels now is anything other than pain.

“Kevin and I disagreed on something,” Neil grits through his teeth. “It won’t happen again.”

“Damn straight it won’t,” Wymack agrees. “Take your gear off for the night, you’re done.”

Neil’s gaze whips to his. “What?”

“I said take your gear off, Josten. You love to run, so that’s what you’re doing until I decide you can stop.”

When Neil continues to stare at him, frozen, Wymack snarls, “Helmet and pads off now, vice-captain. And I want to hear a ‘yes, Coach.’”

Shaking from temper and frustration, Neil whips off his jersey in seconds, throwing the helmet and guards to the ground with barely contained violence. “Yes, Coach,” he snaps, the words dripping with poison.

Wymack nods. “Good. Start running.” And he walks away from them without a second glance.

Furious, Neil sprints off, taking the track around the court by storm. He can feel the team staring at him, pausing in their drills to watch, looks of confusion crossing their faces. His own face burns as he pointedly ignores them. Then Dan barks at them to get moving, and the Foxes reluctantly start up practice once more.

In a few minutes, he’s already hit a mile. Within ten he’s done two, is well on his way towards three. His pace is fast and vicious. He is already breathing harder than he normally would after such a short distance, but he welcomes the pain. Pushes for it harder and harder with each lap.

He’s probably going to blow out his legs at this rate. He tries to find the wherewithal in him to care but feels nothing.

The sounds of the court fall away as he circles, never stopping, his mind and body looping over one another as he continues on and on.

It was bliss. He can hear nothing, feel nothing, he WAS NOTHING-

“-NEIL!”

He runs into Wymack at full speed. Barrels into him really, but Wymack seems to be prepared for it, taking the blow with little more than a grunt.

To Neil though, instinct takes over. Someone has just knocked into him, surprising him. A threat. He is being attacked.

As he falls, he twists his body back so that he can spring backwards off the ground using his hand, flipping and landing neatly back on his feet. He hears his attacker’s surprised gasp as he bends and sweeps his own leg around to knock them off their feet. When he comes to, he is sitting squarely on his coach’s chest, elbow to his throat.

“NEIL STOP!”

Neil turns his head to stare at Dan, surprised to find her kneeling next to them, her hands out as if in defense. Or perhaps to push him off. He has the feeling she’s been calling his name for some time.

Neil shudders and removes himself instantly. Wymack coughs a bit, choking on air as it’s let back into his windpipe. He sits up, waving Dan off as she says something to him, her hands fluttering worriedly between them. But Neil can’t hear them, can only lean back in horror. What had he done?

He’d attacked his coach. He’d hurt someone who cared about him, who trusted him.

He was becoming just like his father.

Jumping to his feet, his thighs protesting at the action, Nathaniel escapes. He barely registers the movements, swinging up to the top of the goal before leaping gracefully towards the plexiglass edge. He uses his momentum to grab onto the half-inch thick edge, flipping himself up and over before dropping to the stadium floor. He reduces the impact to his knees and legs by rolling as he drops.

From behind the thick glass, muffled voices reach him.

“Holy fucking shit!”

“Jesus Christ, did you see that?”

“He freaking leapt the wall. Just like- alley oop. Like a gazelle, or a leopard or- or something.”

They are strange, foreign. Threats. He has to get away. In seconds, Nathaniel pops up and is moving again.

“Neil! NEIL!”

A lone voice echoes behind him, achingly familiar. It is the last thing he hears as he flees via one of the stadium exits and becomes one with the night.

___________________________________________________________________________________

He runs and runs and runs and runs until he drops.

It’s the middle of the night, and he’s on the outskirts of some town, some sprawling suburbia that is supposed to be the American dream. Or so he’s been told.

Lungs burning, he simply rolls over on the ground and lays there. Uncaring that he is fully exposed, fully vulnerable to whatever is coming for him in the night. And something will. Something always did.

And he will deserve it. There is no way they will take him back now. They shouldn’t- he is a menace, a troublemaker, a slacker. He is emotionally inept, unstable. He doesn’t know how to be a real person. Should never have had the opportunity and yet here he is, squandering it.

He is miserable, alone and cold. He doesn’t want to be there. Doesn’t want to be himself tonight.

Shivering, Nathaniel curls into his body, hugging his knees to himself tightly as he waits for the darkness of night to drown him.

When the sun rises several hours later, he still hasn’t moved. Doesn’t feel like he has the strength to. And where will he go anyway? Where is there left to run?

“What are you doing?” Nathaniel raises his head slightly to see a little boy with hazel eyes and blonde curls staring down at him. Of course.

“Existing,” he replies, then wonders why he was bothering to answer at all.

The little boy scrunches his nose up at this answer. “That’s stupid.” Then he follows up with, “My name is Josh. What’s yours?”

Nathaniel. Chris. Stefan. Alex. James. Robert. Phillip. Ryan. Neil-

He licks his lips before whispering, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? Did you forget?” Josh asks, confused. “Didn’t your mommy give you one?”

She gave me more than that.

When he remains silent, Josh presses. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a home?”

Home. Home is personified in a five-foot-tall man, who also has blonde hair and hazel eyes. Who gave him a key, gave him a life, told him to stay. And still he ran. He doesn’t deserve his home.

“I lost it,” he replies, his voice breaking.

“Oh.” The voice is sad and small. “Do you want to come live with us?”

He turns then to really look at the boy. Sees the trust and kindness there in his eyes and is grateful that the world hasn’t sunk its talons into him yet. That he gets to have the kind of safety and confidence where he can offer his world to a stranger without fearing repercussions. He hopes Josh can keep it forever.

“Thank you,” Nathaniel says quietly. “But I probably shouldn’t.”

Josh nods like this makes all the sense in the world. “Okay then. I’m going to play with my friend Mike now. Bye!”

He waves at Nathaniel, before stepping up to the sidewalk. Nathaniel pushes himself up on his elbow to watch him, frowning as he suddenly realizes Josh is all alone. There’s no parents, no older siblings, no one around to watch him cross the street. Is that normal in this kind of quiet town?

“Neil! Oh my god, Neil! Call Andrew, we found him- NEIL, OVER HERE!”

And Nathaniel is turning automatically to look over at a truck barreling down the road, its driver and passenger waving at him enthusiastically. Matt and Dan. They have mixed looks of worry and relief at the sight of him.

They are, in fact, so engrossed in their discovery of him that they don’t see the little boy stepping off the street curb.

He pours every last bit of energy he has to leaping to his feet, sprinting towards a goal he’s sure he won’t make. Speeding towards something that will only end in pain for everyone involved.

Time seems to stop as he reaches towards Josh, sees the panic overtake Matt, hears the screech of the brake pad against metal. He’s not going to make it, it’s not going to happen-

And then he’s eating road, covering Josh with his body as his shoulder is neatly clipped by the truck. He’s wrenched back immediately, and he feels the shoulder pop out of its socket. The pain is excruciating. Josh is crying underneath him, his knees and elbows scabbed, but otherwise unharmed.

“Oh my god, Neil!” Dan yells, running towards him and dropping down next to him. “Neil, are you okay? Holy shit, Matt, call an ambulance!”

There are other neighbors that have come out now, and Nathaniel can hear a woman crying next to him, lifting Josh from his arms and holding him tight.

Things are blurry, Matt narrowing in and out of focus as he leans down and clasps one of his hands onto Nathaniel’s unhurt shoulder. “Neil! Neil, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” He’s blubbering now, mumbling words and crying so hard that Nathaniel finds it difficult to pay attention to him. “Come on now, buddy, stay with me. Gotta stay focused.” His face is pale, and his hand is shaking, but Nathaniel can’t find the strength to tell him that.

Then Matt is gone, and another man is leaning down close, hazel eyes searching his frantically.

“Andrew,” Nathaniel whispers.

Andrew clasps a gentle hand to Nathaniel’s face, a ghost of comfort against his cheek. Then he slams down onto Nathaniel’s injured shoulder, popping it back into place.

Fire radiates through him, and within moments Nathaniel blacks out.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

There’s something beeping in the room. It sounds like Kevin’s alarm clock, annoyingly high-pitched, but it’s too rhythmic to be an alarm. Too steady. And it just keeps going, the beeps calm and measured. Kind of like… a heartbeat.

Oh god. He’s in the hospital again.

Nathaniel doesn’t open his eyes and just listens. There’s someone in the room with him, to his right. There are at least two, maybe three people talking outside of the door.

For a moment, he wonders if everything was a dream. Or maybe the real question is, what wasn’t a dream? Would he wake up to find his mother sitting next to him? Ready to rip him from the room, put him in a car, and drive to the next airport? Or is it an FBI agent, waiting to interrogate him, and tell him Lola and Romero are still out there, his father still at large? Or is he truly alone in the world, his mother and father dead, his dreams of Palmetto State and the Foxes all a fantasy?

He feels like his mind is flickering, like the shutter of a camera. He’s balancing wobbly on the edge of a knife- always a knife.

When he no longer can stand the thought of not knowing what’s waiting for him, he cracks one eye open to see who’s sitting next to him. It’s Renee.

Nathaniel breathes out a sigh of relief, before wariness and logic creep back in. Putting Renee in the room with him is strategical. He’s clearly a flight risk right now, so they want someone in the room with him. But, for all their fucked-up childhoods, only two Foxes stand a chance if he decides to bolt.

And clearly Andrew didn’t volunteer.

It may have been his shoulder that took the hit, but Nathaniel feels like it’s his chest that’s caving in. He doesn’t want to face Renee. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Maybe he’ll just pretend to be asleep for a while longer-

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

Damn it.

Nathaniel opens both eyes and turns his head slowly towards Renee.

“It’s good to have you back, Neil,” she smiles sweetly at him.

He swallows.

“How are you feeling?”

Like I’ve been hit by a truck.

Renee chuckles like he’s spoken this out loud. “Consider that a rhetorical question. I’m sorry that I’m the one who gets to greet you. Andrew’s been by your side non-stop for the past day or so.”

Nathaniel’s spirits lift a little at this admission. Andrew had been there?

“It had taken all of us to convince him to go home and get some rest.” She shrugs sympathetically. “We weren’t sure when you were going to wake up.”

I’ve been out of it for days?

Again, Renee seems to read his mind. “The doctors said you were showing signs of extreme fatigue and malnutrition. Like you hadn’t slept for a week. They felt it best to let your body recover as needed and wake up of your own accord.”

Nathaniel stares up at the ceiling before simply nodding. His head feels fuzzy, like a radio station that’s just out of reach. No matter how you turn the knob, you only get snippets of the music.

“Are you tired still?”

He nods again.

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll call the team to let them know.”

Nathaniel closes his eyes, listening as Renee stands and walks over to the door. Once he hears it shut, they spring back open. Poor, trusting Renee.

Sitting up quickly in bed, he scans the room and finds the duffel bag Andrew obviously brought from their place. He stands up carefully, before reaching around and unplugging the machine he’s attached to from the wall. Long strips of cloth bandages are wrapped tightly around his right shoulder, hindering his movements and making the task more difficult than it needs to be. Ripping the IV out with a wince, he tugs on boxers, sweatpants, and a hoodie Andrew has packed for him. Luckily the hoodie is a zip up. It still hurts like a bitch to put it over his shoulder, but he’s grateful he doesn’t have to pull it over his head. His sneakers are stashed under one of the chairs in the room, and he puts those on too. Then he cautiously makes his way towards the door.

Tucking the blinds to the side, he glances out at the hallway. Renee is smart- she’s barely moved away from the door to make her calls. Unless he can figure out a way of subtly shoving her forward four feet, it’ll be tough for Nathaniel to slip out the door.

But Renee is distracted by movement near the elevator. He can hear Coach’s voice, and his heartbeat triples. There are other voices he can recognize too- Kevin, Matt, Allison- and Renee takes a couple steps towards them.

It’s the best chance he’s going to get.

Nathaniel throws his hood up and over his hair so that his face is partially covered. Then, as quietly as possible, he opens the hospital room door and slips into the hallway.

He’s infinitely grateful in that moment that Andrew packed him a soft grey hoodie versus one of his obnoxious orange foxes’ ones.

He walks nonchalantly in the opposite direction of the elevator, his eyes focused on the red exit sign of a stairwell above. The trick to blending in is to act like you belong, so he keeps his pace calm and unhurried. He is close, can almost taste freedom between his teeth when he hears someone curse long and loud. Kevin possibly, Wymack likely. “Where the hell is he?”

Then he hears Nicky yell, “Neil? Is that you?”

Stupidly, Nathaniel turns and locks eyes with Nicky.  Then he is throwing himself through the stairwell door and racing down the stairs.

One, two, three floors flew beneath him- fuck, they had him on the seventh floor of this hospital?- before he hears the telltale sign of a door slamming open above him.

“Neil wait! Wait, please! Stop!” Matt’s shouts echo through the stairwell, and it only drives to push Nathaniel further.

When he reaches the ground floor, he practically launches himself through the emergency exit, dodging between doctors, nurses and patients as he fights for a way out.

He can’t let them find him. He has to get out. Has to get out. Has to get out.

When he finds a side door that clearly has been propped ajar for someone to have a quick smoke break, he barrels through it without pause. Relief tears through him as fresh air reaches his lungs, the sun blinding him for a second as he trips over Andrew.

He hits the ground hard.

He really should have expected it.

After a brief moment of surprise where the two stare at one another, Nathaniel tries to scramble to his feet, hoping the shock will be enough to catch the other man off guard. But he’s pinned to the ground in seconds.

A burning cigarette falls near his face, the smell of smoke filling him with longing.

“Neil. Neil, look at me.”

Nathaniel is a feral animal, his body kicking and bucking and doing whatever it can to get away. It’s not enough. Andrew sits on him, anchoring Nathaniel to the spot. He grabs one of Nathaniel’s arms with his hand and traps it above his head. The arm that’s attached to his injured shoulder is pinned down by his side. And now Nathaniel has no other choice but to look into Andrew’s eyes as he says, “Your name is Neil Josten. You are one of the starting Strikers for the Foxes at Palmetto State University. Your father is dead. Nathan Wesninski is dead. You are safe.”

Nathaniel glares wildly into his hazel eyes. He’s right. He knows he’s right. But he’s also lying. He has to be.

Kevin and Matt burst through the door next to them, panting. “Holy shit he’s fast,” Matt admits, gulping in air as he stares down at the two of them. He tries to smile but it comes off as more of a grimace. “Nice catch, Andrew.”

Kevin says nothing, but his green eyes are locked on the pair.

Neither Andrew or Nathaniel respond to Matt. Andrew simply repeats, “Your name is Neil Josten. You’re a starting Striker for the Foxes at Palmetto State University. Your father is dead. You are safe. Say it, Junkie.”

Andrew keeps rubbing his wrist in tiny circles with his thumb, right where his heartbeat is pounding. Slowly, it begins to settle.

He drags in a shuddering breath. He wets his lips and for the first time realizes how thirsty he is. But he says the words anyway, with a voice as dry as the desert. “My name is Neil Josten. Starting striker for the Foxes at PSU. My father-” and here he trips and stutters, but Andrew waits patiently. “-my father is dead. I am safe.”

Andrew’s gaze is unrelenting. He stares fiercely at Neil as if he can permanently etch those words into Neil’s brain with his eyes alone.

“Remember Nathaniel Wesninski ran. He died in Baltimore. Neil Josten stayed.”

Neil Josten stayed. Nathaniel ran, but Neil Josten stayed.

“I want to be Neil again,” he whispers.

“Then be him.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head sadly. “I don’t deserve it. A part of me will always be him.”

He doesn’t have to say the name out loud for Andrew to get it.

Andrew nods in agreement. “Nathaniel is part of who you were. He does not define who you are.”

You are who you choose to be.

He releases Neil’s arms slowly but doesn’t move off of him. Neil knows Andrew doesn’t quite trust him not to run yet. He immediately uses the arm above his head to cover his eyes.

“I attacked Coach. I hurt him.” And his stomach twists as he says it, guilt eating him up from inside.

Someone snorts. “Barely. You think a scrawny shit like you is enough to take me down? Think again.”

Neil whips his arm off to see Coach Wymack standing over him. Apparently, the rest of the Foxes had caught up.

“To be fair, Coach, he did knock you on your ass,” Nicky chimes in gleefully.

Wymack turns a steely eye on the guy. “Only because I let him. Christ knows I yelled at him for a solid five minutes to stop running and he ignored me.” He drags a hand frustratingly through his hair. “But that was a stupid move to try and get you to stop. I should have known better. Minyard ripped me a new one for it.”

Neil’s gaze shoots back to Andrew who stares impassively at Coach.

Neil shakes his head. “No, it was my fault. I’m- I’ve always- it’s how I was raised. I’m just so- I’m so sorry for being so-”

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps, but he lays a hand on the center of Neil’s chest, near his heart. Instantly, Neil feels grounded.

“‘So’ what?” Allison inquires.

Neil takes a shuddering breath. “I always react so violently; I do it without thought. It’s-it’s like this instinct takes over. Self-preservation, I guess. I know you guys don’t like it but-”

“Says the guy who threw himself in front of a truck to save a five-year-old,” Aaron cuts him off.

Andrew growls. Matt winces.  For the first time, Neil notices the shiner decorating Matt's left eye.

Apparently Andrew had already made his opinion on the situation known.

“It’s okay,” Neil says automatically, his hand hovering over Andrew’s arm as he tries to reassure Matt at the same time. “You didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

Matt meets his eyes then, a look of defiance on his face. “I’ll forgive myself - but only if you forgive yourself too,” he challenges.

Neil’s stunned into silence. Then he shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not-“ he huffs out a breath, tired from having to explain himself. “I always have blood on my hands,” he says quietly.

“Wait, is this about the time you took down that shitbag in the dorm the other day?” Kevin asks. “Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Because that was amazing,” Matt chuckles, clapping a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “I retold the story to Dan for days.”

“And I was there,” Dan says amusedly.

Neil frowns. “But you guys were upset.”

“When did we say we were upset?” Dan asks, confused.

“We were worried that you might have been hurt, Neil,” Renee adds.

“Some of us were worried you were hurt,” Aaron drawls. “Others just wanted to get back to their room without injury.”

“But you thought-”

“That you looked like hot shit? Because sorry to burst your bubble, but you did babycakes,” Allison smirks. “Stunned your man in his tracks. Kinda like when we left that party.”

The look Andrew gives Allison could melt paint, but she just grins in return.

“Oh man, with the knife-throwing?” Nicky jumps in. “Holy shit, that was so cool! And then at the shooting range- dang Neil, who knew you were such a badass?”

Neil gapes at him, then at the others as they began to nod their heads in agreement.

“With that kind of aim, your shots on goals should be more precise. We’re going to work on it when we get back,” Kevin reprimanded him. Neil groans. Then Kevin continues quietly, “But I didn’t know that about your mom.”

Neil shrugs in response. “It made her feel safe. We always slept with a gun under our pillow.”

“Dangerous,” the taller striker mutters. Then he looks at him in alarm. “You don’t do that now, right?”

Neil only lifts an eyebrow as Kevin’s eyes widen.

Allison rolls her eyes. “No wonder Andrew likes him. He’s chaos personified. Tell the group, Minyard, how wrecked do you get any time Neil opens his mouth?”

Aaron snorts. “You should have seen him when Neil stole that motorcycle.”

“Stole?” Dan echoes.

“Borrowed,” Neil corrects.

“You hot-wired a bike?” Allison repeats, stunned. “Why have you been holding back on us, Josten?”

“You guys, it’s the only time I’ve seen Andrew ride bitch in my entire life,” Nicky gushes. “And I’m just saying, I think someone liked it-”

His voice cuts off due to Andrew’s fist in his stomach.

“As much fun as this entire conversation has been,” Wymack drawls, “Neil is still technically a patient of the hospital, so I’d like to get him checked out of here and back home. Where I don’t have to watch your pathetic asses drool over him.” He stares down at Andrew. “Think you can remove yourself from him for ten minutes?”

“Yeah, we’re good here,” Nicky wheezes, holding his phone up to his face as he wraps an arm around his mid-section. “I mean, if you ignore the fact that Neil is having a panic attack, it looks like Andrew is holding him down which is way hotter than I imagined.” He winks at the two of them. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neil’s face flushes as he realizes that Andrew has been sitting on him for the entire conversation and he hadn’t noticed.

Neither, apparently, had Andrew. Ears burning, he whips himself off Neil’s torso so fast Neil swears he can see a cloud of dust trailing behind him. Both he and Andrew ignore the sly looks and chuckles the other Foxes hide behind their hands as they trail back inside.

But as Andrew hauls Neil to his feet, he doesn’t let go of his wrist. Not as they check out at the front desk, not in the Maserati the whole ride home, and not when they are safely back in their dorm room, the two of them lying on Neil’s bed.

They lay on their sides, just looking at one another. Breathing each other in, in companionable silence.

Neil is the one to break it. “I’m not like Kevin.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “Your stickball obsession would say otherwise.”

“You’re not my bodyguard,” Neil replies, and he marvels at the way he sees Andrew searching through his memory to find the conversation it matches. “There is no deal between us. I don’t want you to think I chose you just to protect me.”

“I don’t.”

“I chose you because I want you. Because you make me feel whole, and happy, and yes, safe,” he adds with a twinkle in his eye. “But it’s only one part of the larger picture.”

“I’ve told you how I feel about wanting things.”

“Yes, I know,” Neil nods solemnly, but he can’t stop the smile from spreading on his face. “You want nothing. And I am nothing.”

Andrew nods. “And I want to protect nothing.”

Neil stops breathing. His eyes widen as he stares into Andrew’s. Neil moves his hand slowly towards him, so slowly that Andrew can stop it before he rests it on his cheek. Neil gently strokes the smooth surface with the pad of his thumb.

And, miraculously, their silent conversations start again.

I know you can take care of yourself but let me stand by you. Let me have your back.

You are more than just a weapon. I won’t let anyone treat you like that.

I don’t want to see you hurt.

You won’t let them. And I won’t let them hurt you either.

I can’t reach you if you won’t let me in. You have to do better.

I’ll try, I promise.

And now Andrew’s nose is almost touching his, moving closer and closer on the pillow until Neil can taste his breath in his mouth. “Yes or no?” Andrew whispers the words, and Neil swallows them.

“Yes,” Neil breathes back before Andrew’s lips sink into his.

The contact is electric. It surges between them, overcharged and bursting for release. It’s been too long since they’ve touched like this, and need rises rapidly in him, threatening to consume Neil. He moans as Andrew’s fingers press gently on his jaw and Neil opens his mouth to him.

Andrew’s tongue licks inside, and he shudders before sucking on it. Neil runs his own on the inside of Andrew’s teeth and feels him gasp. Then Andrew angles the kiss and dives in for more. It’s a dance they’ve performed a thousand times, but each step still feels like it’s new.

Neil slides his hands up into Andrew’s hair and tugs gently, as Andrew bites down on his lower lip. He relishes the sting.

His mouth is so hot on Neil’s. It brands him, stoking his own fire to burn brighter, hotter. But he tastes like dark cherry ice cream. Sweet and sinful all at once. It’s perfect. It’s everything. He feels like he could stay like this forever, kissing Andrew in a twin bed of a dark dorm room.

But too soon, Andrew is pulling back, the kisses growing softer and softer. It’s like dousing a fire with water; the flames recede but the coals are still burning underneath. Neil leans his head back on his pillow as Andrew presses a series of soft kisses into his neck. He’s suddenly very sleepy, his eyelids drooping shut.

He’s warm, happy and safe. Andrew lays between his legs, his head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Neil threads his hand into the soft tendrils of Andrew’s hair, and lets sleep carry him away.

___________________________________________________________________________________

They’re hanging out at Wymack’s house after a non-eventful (and rather boring) winter banquet. Neil has removed his tie and is feeling relaxed, sipping a whiskey as Kevin talks his ear off about the competition they saw tonight.

The Foxes are splitting off tomorrow, enjoying their Christmas break in separate locations. Matt is going home with Dan for a week before they switch and go visit Matt’s family. Allison and Renee are heading off to some tropical island with Renee’s mom, Stephanie. Nicky is taking a flight out to Germany, to spend Christmas with Erik and his family. Aaron is meeting Katelyn’s family for the first time, while Kevin spends his first Christmas with Wymack and Abby.

Which means Neil and Andrew will be blissfully alone in Columbia for two whole weeks. He can’t wait.

His eyes flicker across the room to where Andrew stands next to Renee. The two of them have confiscated Wymack’s dart board and are using it to practice throwing knives. While they’re decent enough, Wymack has already informed the pair that they’ll be patching up the holes he now has in his wall.

The other Foxes have already begged Neil to demonstrate his own skill with knives, but Neil has politely declined. Throwing them brings no real pleasure to him. (Nor does he necessarily want to show up his…Andrew).

So he contentedly watches them from afar, chuckling as he catches Andrew staring again at the sugar monstrosity Abby picked up for them to celebrate. (Aka a sheet cake with buttercream frosting that Neil can tell is practically calling Andrew’s name. He’s surprised he’s held out this long.)

He’s just thinking about digging in and grabbing Andrew a slice when he hears his name. “-really think you could beat Neil, Andrew?”

Andrew lifts an eyebrow at Nicky. “He’s not that good.” Though his voice is monotone, Neil can hear the challenge behind it. Then he locks eyes with Neil and a corner of his mouth lifts in what one could barely call a smirk.

Asshole.

Smoothly Neil stands up from his chair, sliding away from Andrew’s gaze as he casually moves towards the food table, pretending to take interest in the vegetable tray. In the corner of his eye, he watches Andrew aim, drawing his arm back slightly before releasing the knife, whipping it towards the intended target.

That’s when Neil moves.

As his hand shoots out, he hears someone gasp, sees the hesitant step forward Andrew takes in his peripheral vision. Neil snatches the knife clean from mid-air, before turning back towards the table, letting the blade dance casually between his fingertips. In a clean sweep he drags the knife across the bottom layer of frosting on the cake as he walks by, his stride never faltering. Then he locks eyes with Andrew as his tongue makes a smooth swipe up the blade, licking the knife clean.

The rush of sugar wants to make him gag, but it’s worth it for the look on Andrew’s face.

The room is dead silent.

He continues nonchalantly towards Andrew, flipping the knife over in his hand so it’s handle-up. He offers it back to him without comment.

Andrew just stares at him.

Neil lifts an eyebrow.

Slowly, Andrew reaches out and takes the knife back. Though he has schooled his features back into looking bored, Neil spots the slight pink tinge to his ears.

Then Neil walks out of the room.

It immediately explodes with reactions.

“Yes, that is my boy! Neil is a badass! Pay up, bitches.”

“No way, Allison, you bet he’d beat Andrew in throwing knives, not that he’d perform some kinky knife trick.”

“Holy shit, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen! Tell me someone captured that on camera? I’m going to show it to Erik. I’m going to show it to all of Germany. I’m going to show it to my babies! Oh my god, Andrew, are you blushing?”

“I said he’d beat him, Boyd, and just look at the man. Andrew is wrecked.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Shut up, Aaron. Even you have to admit that was hot.”

“Hot? That was the sexiest thing I’ve seen this year!”

“Babe, are you serious? I literally just gave you a lap dance the other night.”

“…okay, second-sexiest thing I’ve seen all year. (Sorry, Matt).”

“Damn it! Renee, I can’t believe you called that. Here’s fifty.”

“Thank you, Kevin.”

“I seriously can’t believe he just pulled that out of mid-air. Is he fucking Batman?”

“No, he’s fucking Andrew. Remember?”

“Stop saying that shit, Jesus!”

“Oh my god, is he going to GET SOME tonight.”

“Deserves it after that move.”

“Told you. Bad-motherfucking-ass. Don’t mess with my boy, Neil.”

“No, but for real, Andrew, want me to get you some ice? Cause you’re lookin’ pretty hot and bothered- ah, DON’T STAB ME! Renee?? COACH!!”

“Stop putting holes in my wall, you little shits!”

Neil finally lets the smirk show on his face.

Perhaps they were right. Neil Josten is a badass.