Chapter Text
If Neil would have known he would end up trapped in Millport High’s men's locker room with a coach stupid enough to recruit him for his team, he would have showered at the house.
Said coach was even asking about his parents. It would all be hysterical if not for how serious the consequences would be if Neil said yes. There are so many lies that can come undone with just one wrong move. But Neil had a thing for testing fate.
Wymack gave him a second to think before asking again, "Are your parents going to be a problem?"
It was too much to take a chance on, but too much to walk away from.
Neil thought back to sleeping in the locker rooms with a two-year-old tied to his chest and a weapon gripped tightly in his palm. He needed this chance.
It hurt when he nodded, but it hurt more to see that tired look settle in Wymack's eyes. It wasn't the pity he thought he could see in Hernandez from time to time, but something familiar that said Wymack understood what it cost to be Neil. He knew what it was like to have to fight to wake up and keep moving every day. Neil doubted the man could ever really understand, but even that tiny bit was more than he'd ever gotten in his life. Neil had to look away.
Wymack opened his mouth to speak but Neil’s fading resolve pushed him to beat the coach to the punch.
“I have baggage.” Neil blurted.
Wymack closed his mouth and processed Neil’s words slowly. He nodded, as if he understood. “All my foxes have baggage. You won’t be the first.” He said.
Neil doubted any fox in all Wymack’s years has carried the same weight as Neil when it came to baggage.
Neil shook his head at Wymack. “That's not what I mean.”
For a long period of silence, they stared into each other's eyes. It made Neil’s skin crawl but he couldn’t look away.
Wymack shifted and nodded at Neil. “Go on. Let’s hear it then.”
Neil swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel nails cutting him from his skull to his lower back, whispering in his ear, screaming at him to lie and run away. He forced it all into the back of his mind. The thoughts of what he was about to do, to admit to this stranger, strangled him. Neil’s heart jumped out of his chest. It was now or never.
“I…. there’s this kid,” Neil’s gaze flickered up to gauge Wymack’s expression before falling back to a stain on a locker. The coach waited patiently for him to continue. It should have been comforting but Neil was far more scared than ever.
“I have a son. His name’s Milo.” He didn’t look up. His heart was beating in his ears as a muscle in his thigh spazzed at the instinct to run.
“Oh.”
Neil looked up. Wymack wasn’t making much of an expression. He didn’t seem too widely shocked but he didn’t look like he expected it all the same.
“How old is he?” The question was simple enough for Neil to answer but something was twisting in his stomach as it cramped up.
“Three. He’ll be four in July.” Wymack didn’t need to know that, but Neil took pride in his son’s age. It marked his survival. It marked how far they’d gotten.
Wymack nodded, thinking to himself as he did. Neil waited. He wanted to do something other than just standing and staring at the coach. His hands twitched with the need to pick at his nails, scratch his scars, fiddle with his shirt, anything.
“Maybe I can arrange something at the daycare–”
“No.” Neil didn’t want to be separated from Milo. He wasn’t going to let it happen. Even now, taking his time to leave was causing anxiety to run rapidly in his veins.
“No?” Wymack raised an eyebrow at him.
“I won’t be separated from him. He goes where I go.”
Wymack crossed his arms. “What do you suggest I do with the both of you? I can’t allow you to get an apartment away from the team. The foxes have many enemies and it isn’t safe or convenient.”
Neil tapped his foot in thought. “I won’t leave him with someone I don’t know and don’t trust. I’d be okay with a babysitter but I want background checks and I want at least a week monitoring this person before I agree. I don’t want anyone else to know about him, not even the Foxes.”
Wymack scratched his eyebrow and worked his jaw. Signing Neil was going to be more problematic than he thought. “Okay. I think I have enough room for both of you in my apartment. Unfortunately, I’d need to talk to the board first but I guess you both can fit into the dorms together.”
Neil perked up at that.
“As for the babysitter, I might have a temporary solution until we can find someone more professional. You’re also going to have to tell the team at one point but for now, I won’t say a thing.”
Neil bit his lip. It was a gamble. This was the first time one of his identities was Milo’s father. This was the first time he’d be living with him as such, with a bunch of strangers too.
"Your graduation ceremony is May eleventh, according to your coach," Wymack said at length. "We’ll have someone, other than the team, pick you both up from Upstate Regional Airport Friday the twelfth."
Neil almost pointed out that he hadn't agreed to anything yet, but the words died in his throat as he realized he really was going.
"Keep the papers tonight," Wymack offered, pushing his folder at Neil again. This time Neil took it. "Your coach can fax the signed copies to me on Monday. Welcome to the line."
"Thank you" seemed appropriate, but Neil couldn't manage it. He kept his stare on the floor. Wymack didn't wait long for a response before going in search of Hernandez.
The back door banged shut behind him, and Neil's nerves broke. He ran for the bathroom and made it to a stall just in time to dry-heave into a toilet.
He could imagine his mother's rage if she knew what he was doing. He remembered too well the savage yank of her hands in his hair. All these years spent trying to keep moving and hidden, and now he was going to destroy their hard work. All the work to keep Milo a secret too. She would never forgive him for this and he knew it, and that did nothing at all to help the clenching feeling in his gut.
"I'm sorry," he gasped out between wet coughs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
He stumbled over to the sinks to rinse his mouth out and stared himself down in the mirrors that hung above them. With black hair and brown eyes, he looked plain and average: no one to notice in a crowd, no one to stick in one's memory. That was what he wanted, but he wondered if it could hold up against news cameras. Especially with a three-year-old attached to his side. He grimaced a little at his reflection and leaned closer to the mirror, tugging hard at chunks of hair to check his roots. They were dark enough that he relaxed and leaned back a bit.
"University," he said quietly. It sounded like a dream; it tasted like damnation.
He unzipped his duffel bag enough to put Wymack's paperwork away. When he returned to the main room, the two coaches were waiting on him. Neil said nothing to them but went past them to the door.
Andrew opened the back door of Hernandez's SUV when Neil passed and gave Neil a knowing, taunting smile. "Too good to play with us, too good to ride with us?"
Neil flicked him a cool look and sped up to a jog. By the time he reached the far edge of the parking lot, he was running. He left the stadium and the Foxes and their too-good promises behind him, but the unsigned contract in his bag felt like an anchor around his neck.
After a while of beating himself up over it, Neil went to the house he and Milo were staying in every now and then.
Neil checked the entrances for any tampering or signs that someone was checking the place out. When he found none, a feather-like weight left his shoulders. He went inside, knocking on the walls in a familiar pattern without saying a word.
As soon as he got a knock back, coming from the room down the hall, Neil felt the rest of the weight leave.
“Milo, you’re good.” He called.
A boy, small with a messy head of dark crimson hair, poked his head out the room door and eyed the hall. When he saw Neil, a warm, bright smile lit his face as he bounded toward him. Milo hugged Neil’s middle tightly as he nuzzled his cheek into his hip. He tried to hide his wince, his body still ached from Minyard slamming the racquet into him.
Neil smiled. “Hi, baby. Were you okay by yourself?”
Milo looked up from where he rubbed his face red on Neil’s hip, his hair even scruffier than before. “I saw birds out the window. The fast ones, the ones where the wings are colorful,” he explained, using a gesture Neil assumed he was supposed to understand. He nodded as Milo added on to things the bird did before running back to the room to show Neil the books he colored in.
The books Neil got for Milo weren’t meant for coloring but they were safer than actual children's books. Children's books would hint at a child living with him, which would make people aware of Milo, which would get Milo caught.
Instead, Neil bought dictionaries, journals, and paperbacks of college-level math problems. He let Milo play with them, and color over the pages however he wants. Milo found a surprising interest in them other than coloring. He’s read hundreds of books Neil has gotten for him until his short attention span urged him to draw on the pages.
“How come you came late?” Milo asked as they stacked the finished books. Once they were out of space, Neil was forced to burn them. It pained him but he couldn’t afford to leave any evidence of Milo’s existence behind.
“You know how when you finish one school you go to another?” Neil started.
Milo tilted his head. “Like leaving? When the bad people come?”
Neil’s mouth twitched involuntarily. “No. Not when the bad people come. Like when you finish Elementary so you go to a bigger kids' school?”
Milo nodded. “Are you going to bigger kid school?” He asked quietly.
Neil smiled for real this time, scooting over so he was sitting in front of Milo. “Yes, but you are coming with me this time.”
Milo still didn’t understand. “But I’m not a big kid?”
“Yes, but remember exy?”
Milo nodded, glancing at a notebook with exy stickers on the cover.
“Well, a coach from a big school came and wants me on the team so I can play more. He said I can bring you and we can live together there. It’s going to be fun,” Neil said, brushing back Milo’s fringe.
Milo grinned widely. “I’m going to big school? Can I learn math things and what psychotomimetic means or cacoethes?”
Neil blinked. Milo blurted those words so fast Neil wasn’t sure they were real. “Who taught you that? Even I don’t know what those mean.”
Milo’s face scrunched up. “The word books did. Did I say it right? Cause they were long and you said to break them into pieces so I can say them,” he mumbled.
Neil nodded. “I did say that didn’t I?” He nibbled at his lip. Explaining Milo to the Palmetto Foxes would be tricky. Lies can only take Neil so far, how far could they take Milo?
“Okay here's the thing, remember the rules Nana and I taught you?”
Milo got a determined look on his face. He nodded. “No talking to strangers, no matter what they tell or promise, no telling on Nana and you,” Milo fidgeted as he continued, “hide and don’t ever be seen or caught, don’t leave clue things–”
“Traces,” Neil corrected.
“Don’t leave traces, don’t tell people Nana is my Nana, don’t tell people mommy is you, and run away if the bad people come.”
Neil nodded firmly. “Exactly. These rules are still the same, except for one. You can tell people I am your parent.”
If Milo had lit up at being able to go to school with Neil, he was blinding now.
“Really, really?” He practically screeched.
Neil shushed him, glancing at the windows. “Yes, really. You can call me dad, you are my son, Milo Josten.”
“Dad,” Milo said, testing it out, “Mommy too?”
Neil shrugged. “Yes, Mommy too.”
“Okay Mommy.” Milo beamed. He hugged Neil before rushing to his books to stack them up. Neil followed, adjusting his duffel on his shoulder. He let Milo say goodbye to his doodles as Neil slipped into the bathroom to check on his forming bruise.
He slipped his shirts off, eyes skimming over his binder and scars and landing on the red and blue over his ribs. It was super stuffy and hard to breathe but the bruise didn’t look so bad. The pain must've been coming from his binder adding pressure to the sore area.
With a grimace, Neil undid his binder, tensing as cool air hit his bare chest. The pressure on the bruise was relieved but Neil felt itchy. His binder was like a security blanket he didn’t always need but when he did, he needed it bad. Right now he needed it but his bruises were throbbing, threatening pain and distraction if he dared to put it back on.
He got dressed, binder excluded, and walked back to Milo’s space. Neil looked through the four outfits Milo owned and decided it was time to shop. He bunched up two out of the four and placed them in the trash bag with Milo’s books. With a few more things in the bag, Neil took it out back and lit a fire. He didn’t bother hiding the smoke since there was hardly anybody in the neighborhood who would see or smell it. After everything was charred and ash, he dug a hole and buried the remains.