Archive of Our Own

The sound of his duffle hitting the hardwood floor echoed around the nearly empty room as Andrew came to a stop and dropped his bag just beyond the entrance. The living room, as it were, of his brand new apartment in central Boston. In the city where he was now the starting goalie of the Boston Rebels, where he had two weeks off before pre-season training began with his new team.  

He’d been to the city twice prior; once to meet the coaches and decide if he wanted to sign their contract, with their promises of a top-tier starting salary and no-bullshit fine print. And the second time, to find this apartment. Both times he was trailed by his sharp-tongued, auburn-colored runaway, barely one step behind him the entire time, never out of sight unless their eyes were closed. 

But this time, he’d gotten in the car alone, driven the sixteen hours alone, walked up the stairs and into this apartment, his apartment, alone. Even the noise in his head wasn’t enough to drown out the silence of Neil’s absence. 

He knew if he kept his eyes shut for longer than a blink, he could still see Neil in his rear view mirror, his hair disheveled from where Andrew had his fingers in it not but moments prior, holding a lit but unsmoked cigarette between his fingers as Andrew drove away from him. 

He also knew that he didn’t have to close his eyes to feel the ache that lingered within his ribcage; the ache that felt like the end of something, but also maybe the start of something new. 

The apartment was nice. Spacious and expensive, too. Being a college athlete paid well and his Rebels signing bonus paid even better, so he had spared no expense when looking for a place to live. He really only needed a second bedroom for guests–or for possible bad nights if and when Neil came to stay–and a balcony to smoke on, but the stainless steel appliances, vaulted ceilings, exposed brick, and massive windows were pretty good too. He had lived with so little for so long that his actual needs were few and far between. Something to live for, something to die for. Sunrise, Abram, death. A future, Neil, a place to call home. Some might say the last three are interchangeable. 

Neil asked, a week before he was supposed to leave, if Andrew wanted him to come along to Boston again and help him get settled. The Foxes’ season also didn’t start for another month, and even with Kevin breathing down Neil’s neck about summer practices despite being over a thousand miles away in Texas, Wymack had given the upperclassmen some time off. But Andrew had said no, and didn’t give a reason. Neil hadn’t brought it up again, seemingly content with the answer. 

Seemingly content being left behind. Seemingly content being the last one standing. Seemingly content knowing his family was spread all over the globe. 

Four years ago, Andrew had asked Neil to stay. A few months ago, Neil told Andrew to go. 

———

It was a conversation Andrew had been putting off. Offers from professional teams had been coming in for Andrew long before he’d even decided if he was going to choose a career in exy, or a masters program for criminal justice. The first time Wymack had mentioned these offers, Andrew had not missed the way Neil’s eyes lit up and flicked over to him briefly before looking away again. He knew Neil wanted him to go pro, but he wouldn’t push him. Neil never pushed him. But at the time, Andrew didn’t know what it would mean for them if he didn’t choose the thing that tethered them together in the first place. He didn’t know if giving up exy meant giving up Neil, too. And against all of his efforts, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not he could survive that. 

They’d been on the roof, cigarette butts piled between them, when Neil finally brought it up, and Andrew found himself annoyed at his own cowardice. 

“Don’t make a decision based on what you think I want,” Neil had said, his breath clouding into the night sky. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Andrew replied. Neil shot him a look, but he ignored it. 

“Choose exy, don’t choose exy, it makes no difference to me and you know that. What are you waiting for?” 

Because I can’t always have what I want. 

Because I want to go, and it scares me. 

Because I can’t risk losing you either way. 

Andrew took a slow breath, the way Bee had taught him, trying to settle his own hammering heart. Four years suddenly felt like no time at all, in the grand scheme of all the things that had ever happened to him. This thing, this relationship , the promise Kevin made him and delivered on, seemed so fragile and fleeting, despite everything he and Neil went through to protect it. 

When the words came, they were quiet, “I am not…used to wanting things,” he said at first, and after a moment: “the offer from Boston looks promising.” 

“Coach seemed satisfied with that one,” Neil nodded, and then tilted his head. Andrew could feel the frostbite burn of those blue eyes on the side of his face. “I know I just said my opinion shouldn’t matter, but I think it’s a good offer too. I think you should take it, if it’s what you want to do,” Neil told him.

Andrew thought it sounded like Neil wanted him to leave. 

They were both quiet for a while, after that, until Neil broke the silence again. 

“At least Boston is still on the east coast,” he said, and for once Andrew couldn’t discern his tone. 

“Denver made me an acceptable offer too,” Andrew supplied. 

Neil shrugged. “That’s only like a four hour flight from here.” 

Andrew blinked at that, once, the only clear sign of his surprise. He then tried to swallow around whatever had built itself up in his throat, but struggled. They’d only heard the offers that previous Wednesday, and Neil had already taken the time to check the travel details of the two most ideal of them. Neil had thought about the logistics of them , and how they might still work, when it came time for Andrew’s life in Palmetto to end. 

Andrew took a long drag from his cigarette. 

“Take what you want , Andrew,” Neil had told him. 

So he did. 

———

Andrew had left Palmetto in the middle of the night on a Sunday, which put him in Boston at nearly ten o’clock at night the next day, having driven all the way through seven eastern states without stopping to rest. His apartment was mostly unfurnished aside from a mattress spread out on the floor of the master bedroom, and knowing that small kernel of information kept Andrew from stopping at a hotel. He and Neil had slept on this mattress once before, anyway, which is more than he could say for any of the hotels along the interstate. 

He knew he should at least text Neil, to tell him that he made it. But moving out of the Tower and then out of the Columbia house meant that Andrew now had to learn how to stand on his own two feet for the first time in what felt like an entire lifetime. 

He thought that Neil should learn to do the same. There was no guarantee that they would end up on the same professional team next year, let alone that they could even survive being separated like this. They needed to learn to be their own people without using the other as something to fall back on.

So, instead of texting or calling Neil, he put his phone on silent, took a shower, and went to sleep. 

———

He woke up on Tuesday having slept for upwards of twelve hours, and could feel the pillowcase lines embedded onto his face well before he was even fully awake. He was unsure if it had been a restful sleep rather than just a bone-tired deep one, considering it was a new place and he was the only one in the bed, but he felt better nonetheless. It was dreamless, which is all he could really ask for. As he stretched his arms out he felt the other pillow, untouched and cold; the way it would remain for many, many weeks. Something shifted askew inside of him again. 

The sun was hitting the brick wall behind his head at an odd, mid-afternoon slant. He knew he should get up and go shopping for food, furniture, and any necessary household items he and Neil had missed last time, but his new mattress was shockingly comfortable, and something about setting his bare feet on the hardwood of this new space made it more real than just sleeping here. He wasn’t quite ready to face it yet. 

His phone vibrated from where it lay on the floor beside the bed, plugged into the wall. It was likely Neil or Renee or even Aaron, checking in to make sure he was alive, or Kevin, pestering him about not slacking off during his down time. He reached for it, the smooth smartphone glass still unfamiliar in his grasp, and opened up his messages. 

Junkie, 11:51 pm: did u make it ok? 

Junkie, 12:34 am: drew 

Headache, 7:32 am: I’m emailing you my pre-season meal plan from my nutritionist. You might consider getting one of your own. 

Junkie, 10:17 am: send word if ur alive at least 

Junkie, 12:31 pm: andrew come on 

Andrew knew that it was unlike Neil to worry this much, but Andrew also knew that this is the longest and farthest they’d been apart since Neil went to California to see Jean after he’d been transferred to the Trojans. Despite his current hangups about dependency, he texted him back.  

Me, 12:36 pm: alive 

Me, 12:37 pm: don’t work yourself up, josten

Andrew took a practiced, slow breath, and released it through his mouth in an indignant huff. He could do this. As much as he finally admitted to Bee and to himself and to Neil about enjoying the concept of having someone around, having a partner , he needed to be able to be alone again. After what felt like ages, his phone vibrated against his stomach, pulling him out of his reverie once again. 

Junkie, 1:03 pm: maybe if u hadn’t disappeared for a day and half I wouldn’t have 

Me, 1:03 pm: worry not 

Me, 1:04 pm: don’t you have exy to do? 

Junkie, 1:05 pm: water break 

Junkie, 1:08 pm: I miss you 

Andrew’s heart thudded sharply against his ribs, and the ache of it reverberated all around his chest and down into his stomach and spinal column. The minutes between the first message and the next meant that Neil had thought about it; felt it and thought about saying it and then did, taking no consideration for how it would make Andrew feel. 

Andrew felt like he was falling. 

He looked at the time and knew the foxes’ water break would be finished now and Neil’s phone would be sitting on the bench next to his water bottle, going unnoticed. 

So he didn’t reply. 

——

Several hours and far too much money later, Andrew returned to his new apartment with enough groceries for a week and many, many boxes of unbuilt furniture. 

It was beginning to darken out when he returned, so he drew the blinds and spent the first hour hanging curtains. He’d never had a space of his own to decorate before, at least beyond his bedroom at the tower or in Columbia, so it was a bit of a novelty to dabble in interior design and discover that he quite enjoyed it. He enjoyed finding things that didn’t remind of anything that could hurt him, and things that did remind him of the places and people he’d come to love. If he bought a small fox figurine for his bookshelf, well, that wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.

The curtains he’d bought were a rich maroon, textured, and the color made the vast whiteness of the walls look less clinical, and tied in the red-orange hues of the exposed brick. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. 

He made a quick dinner after that and thought about calling Neil, maybe even FaceTiming him since they had iPhones now and could do that sort of thing, but it was getting late and Andrew didn’t know if Neil would be around. He felt odd at that; not knowing what Neil was doing, or where he was. He could ask of course, but—it was—he didn’t want to be— 

Controlling. 

Demanding. 

Overprotective. 

He wouldn’t be like them, even a little bit. 

He silenced his phone and put his bed frame together with only the sounds of the city many floors below to keep him company. 

—-

The days went by like that; wake up, smoke, eat, put the apartment together, smoke, eat, sleep, repeat. 

Andrew kept his phone on the brand new nightstand next to the bed, where it kept vigil all night and all day, vibrating sporadically. He ignored it every time, only checking the messages right before he went to sleep, replying to none of them. 

He didn’t know why he was doing it. The part of his brain that had convinced him that he was required to be independent and stand on his own two feet during this process had taken over, had overridden every other instinct. 

Neil was worried, Renee was worried, Coach was worried. Aaron was even reaching out. Kevin was…Kevin. Wasn’t it enough? To be needed? To be cared for? To be wanted? 

On Wednesday,  

Junkie, 6:13 am: Kevin’s hounding me abt u staying fit as if ur gonna lose all ur talent in 2 wks

Junkie, 6:17 am: u talked to him at all? 

Doppelganger, 8:47 am: 4 image attachments

Doppelganger, 8:49 am: Be glad you didn’t choose the midwest 

Junkie, 1:06 pm: how’s the new place coming along? 

8:45 pm: Missed call from Junkie

Junkie, 9:12 pm: Drew? 

On Thursday, 

Junkie, 11:57 am: wymack is asking after u 

Junkie, 11:57 am: told him I didn’t know 

Junkie, 11:58 am: care to explain 

3:14 pm: Missed call from Coach

9:16 pm: Missed call from Junkie 

Junkie, 9:31 pm: alright 

On Friday, 

12:30 pm: Missed call from Renee Walker 

Renee, 12:31 pm: Hi Andrew, how are you doing? You can call me back if you feel up to it. I’d love to hear from you :)

On Saturday, 

Junkie, 6:30 am: I’m calling u later 

Junkie, 6:30 am: I’m giving u a warning so u know to pick up this time 

7:38 pm: Missed call from Junkie 

7:40pm: Missed call from Junkie 

Junkie, 7:42 pm: for fucks sake Andrew 

———

Sunday reared her head slowly and through a dense fog of the brain. 

Andrew laid there and watched the sun creep across the brick like he had every morning since moving into the new apartment, but couldn’t bring thoughts to form or motivations to rise.

It took a long time, but he eventually pieced enough of himself together and got out of bed. He showered the fog from his eyes, and while he smoked his morning cigarette, he thought about calling Bee. 

She wasn’t technically his therapist anymore, but she had very firmly told him he could still call her anytime while he was getting settled in. He had received a recommendation from her for a new therapist in Boston, but he hadn’t called her yet either. 

Perhaps against his better judgment, he went to get his phone, and Bee answered on the second ring. 

“Hello, Andrew,” he could hear the smile in her tone. “How is Boston treating you?” 

“Hi Bee,” he replied, but he hesitated a bit too long on the second part, and she caught it immediately. 

“Is something bothering you?” she asked, “I take it this isn’t a social call,” she said, calmly, as always. The smoothness of her voice alone set a small piece of him back into place. 

There was no sense in beating around the bush, so he said, “I’ve been self isolating. I haven’t really talked to anyone, even Renee, since last Sunday.” 

Bee hesitated this time, “Neil?” 

“I texted him back a couple times on Tuesday. Been dodging his calls.” 

“Why don’t you want to talk to your friends? Even Neil? Even Renee?” 

“I thought—“ he swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. “I wanted to be able to do this on my own.” 

Bee was quiet for a moment, and he heard a door shut and the shuffle of clothing as she moved around or into another room. He figured maybe he’d caught her right as she’d arrived at her office, but it was still the weekend. She was at home. 

“Andrew,” she started again, “it’s good that you are recognizing these self sabotaging behaviors, and I’m glad that you’ve called. Is it that you’re feeling like talking to them, or leaning on them for support during a difficult time, would feel like you aren’t being independent?” 

“I shouldn’t need to bother them, they have their own stuff going on.” 

Bee hummed, which he knew meant she didn’t agree. “They are your friends, your family. They care about you, and I’m sure they’d like to hear from you when you feel up to it, so that they know they don’t need to worry. What is it specifically that you’re struggling with?” 

“Unfamiliar city,” he answered. “Unfamiliar space. Unfamiliar bed. The sheets smell weird, feel too clean. I’m not fond of sleeping alone. The bed is cold.” 

“Alright,” she replied, “That’s all very fair, I think. Moving is difficult, and you were in South Carolina for a long time. It’s understandable that a new place and new possessions might throw you off. Would you like to tell me why you asked Neil to stay behind while you made this transition? I know practices don’t start up again until next Monday.” 

“He needs to be there for the team. It’s important. It’s his senior year.” 

She hummed again, “Okay,” she said placidly. “Did you ask Neil what he wanted to do?” 

“He told me to do what I wanted,” 

“Yes, I recall him saying that. And you did, didn’t you? You chose a team and you signed a contract and you moved to a new place in order to pursue a future in professional exy. Which is, truthfully, a very large and difficult thing to both follow through with and process. It’s okay that you’re having a hard time, Andrew. And it’s okay to ask for help from the people who care about you.” 

He wondered if Bee could hear his teeth grinding through the phone. “I don’t want help.” 

“Is it that you don’t want it, or that you don’t want to want it?” 

He had always hated how Bee knew just where the crux of the issue was. He hated how she always dug her nails right in. He hated that it made him feel better every fucking time. 

“I don’t like wanting things. Especially things like this.” 

“Help? Or good things?” 

Andrew paused, “Both,” he said after a moment. 

“I know it goes without saying these days, Andrew, but you’re allowed to want things. It’s okay to want things for yourself every once in a while.” 

The thing is, he’d been selfish. He left behind everything he knew because he wanted to keep playing this stupid fucking sport. It felt good to be good at something, and he was really fucking good at exy. He didn’t want to lose that feeling yet. But he still thought it was the most selfish thing he’d ever done. 

“I hate—“ he hesitated, knowing Bee wasn’t fond of the aggressive nature of the word hate; she didn’t find it productive, “—dislike that I feel like this.” 

“Tell me how you feel, and be as descriptive as you want,” Bee said calmly. 

He took a slow breath, in and out, “I feel alone, and lonely. I keep expecting to hear Neil’s keys in the door or wake up next to him. I keep thinking I hear his voice, or his footfalls in the corridor or in the hallway leading to my bedroom. It’s so quiet here, Bee. I thought it would be a good thing, but I keep trying to fill the silences with things that aren’t there.” 

Bee didn’t reply immediately, and Andrew knew she was just thinking. After a while, “May I share my opinion, Andrew? Perhaps not as your recent therapist, but as your friend?” 

“Sure, Bee,” 

“I think you miss him. He is your partner, and your best friend, and you both are very used to having each other no farther than an arm's-length distance away. I think you miss him, and I can almost guarantee he misses you too.” 

And oh, it aches . That unbidden and uninvited pain that’s been nestled between his ribs for the better part of a week burns hot once again as if fresh as a burn, and it aches . Andrew wasn’t sure he even knew how to miss someone, let alone how much it would hurt. 

He really thought he would be fine. He’d had no trouble relocating and starting fresh before, several years and an entirely different coast ago. But he hadn’t had anything to hold onto then, when he was grasping and struggling for purchase on a life that meant something. When he was desperate to keep a hold on Cass, on Aaron, on himself. But the Andrew of then was not the Andrew of now. Now he had friends, a family, a home, a team. He had things to live for, to die for, to protect. 

Bee’s voice eventually broke through the rubble of his thoughts. “Andrew? Are you still there?” 

“I’m here,” he said and his voice was gravelly. 

“What do you think about what I said?” 

He remembered the text, the one that perhaps could have started it all, or at the very least fanned the flames of the fire he’d started alone. 

“He said he did,” he told her. 

“Who said what?” 

“Neil,” he supplied, “He said he missed me. On Tuesday.” 

“Ah,” Bee said, and he didn’t miss the gentle chuckle that cracked down the line. “How did you feel about that?” 

His jaw was beginning to throb from the pressure. “It…scared me.” 

“Mhm,” Bee replied. “Could that have been what triggered this behavior?” 

“No. Maybe. No. I didn’t text him when I got in on Monday night either. I chose not to tell him I made it here.” 

“I see,” Bee said. “Have you considered that Neil might be feeling the way you feel, too? That he’s nervous to be so far away from you, and nervous for what your shared future holds?” 

Truthfully, he knew Neil had needed him at one point, many years ago, to survive. He was a fraud and a liar and a runaway, and somehow giving every broken piece of reality to Andrew helped him rebuild a life around himself. Let him build Neil Josten from the ground up. But Andrew didn’t know if that was still true, if Neil still needed him, and he was too afraid to find out if the answer was no. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “he’s stronger than he used to be.” 

“And so are you. The version of Andrew I met when you first came to Palmetto would have never admitted feeling alone, or to needing help. Do you think it makes you weak, now, to ask for it? Do you think it makes Neil weak, to admit to missing you?”

He considered it for a long moment, “No,” he said eventually.  

He heard Bee smile again when she said, “Give yourself the time and the grace to process this, Andrew. Be kind to yourself. You have many resources at your disposal, including your loved ones, like Neil and Renee and myself. Even Kevin, I suppose. It’s alright to lean on them, and to ask for help. It’s okay to miss them. It’s okay to want to talk to them when you can’t have them near. But it’s also okay to take space for yourself when you’re feeling out of sorts, too.” 

“I know, Bee,” 

“I know you know, but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate.” 

“Thanks, Bee,” 

“You’re welcome, Andrew. Be patient with yourself. Call me if you need me.” 

“Alright, stop fussing,” 

She laughed, gentle like a wind chime. “Goodbye, Andrew.” 

He hung up. 

The sounds of traffic and wind seeped back into his awareness and pulled him forcefully towards the present. Talking to Bee always had the weird effect of being both helpful and draining, enlightening and taxing, clinical and emotional. He wanted another cigarette, but he’d yet to eat, and he was also tired all the way down to his bones. 

He’d received no texts from Neil or Renee or Kevin that day, not since Neil’s last text the night before. It was odd, of course, but to be expected after ignoring them all for several days. Maybe they were just giving him space. Maybe they’d just given up. 

He made breakfast and considered calling Neil. He drove to the grocery store and considered calling Neil. He saw Jeremy Knox on the cover of a magazine at the register, huffed something akin to a laugh, and considered calling Neil. 

He thought about what Bee had said, about their feelings being mutual, and about Neil’s text. He thought about missing him. He thought about pushing him away. He thought about calling him. 

His hands were full as he made his way to the elevator from the parking garage attached to his building. Everything required a key fob and a passcode and god knows what else, but it meant Andrew almost always needed a hand free, which he didn’t have. 

After much struggle and maneuvering and an entire set of numb fingers later, he finally made it into the elevator and up to his floor. He was expecting to need his hand again to unlock his door, but he wasn’t expecting someone to be standing there, leaning against it. He wasn’t expecting it to be Neil. 

Said junkie turned at the sound of the elevator opening, and blue met hazel for the first time in what was really only a week, but had felt like an eternity. His fingers were numb and his shoulder was starting to cramp, but Andrew was frozen to his spot by surprise and a distinct feeling of weightlessness. 

“Andrew–” Neil said, startled. As if he wasn’t standing in front of the door. Andrew’s door. Their door? As if he wasn’t looking right at him. 

Andrew’s brain supplied, “What are you doing here?” 

“What?” Neil answered, his expression crumpling at the edges with confusion and, to Andrew’s surprise, hurt? Anger? “I got on a fucking plane first thing this morning because my boyfriend hadn’t answered his phone for four days and I needed to make sure he wasn’t kidnapped or dead.”

“ Shut up ,” Andrew gritted out, intelligently. His brain wasn’t working and his heart was hammering in his chest and his fucking fingers were numb but Neil was here and he was upset and Andrew didn’t know what to do.  

Neil looked appalled. “Excuse me?” 

Andrew didn’t grace that with a response, as to avoid digging himself deeper, so he just shoved past Neil to unlock the door and sweep them both into the silence of the apartment. 

Heat was coming off Neil in waves and Andrew just needed a fucking second, so he b-lined for the kitchen and set the groceries down on the counter. Blood rushed to his fingers, making them tingle unpleasantly, but it brought him back to the ground regardless. 

Neil was here. Neil was here? Neil was here. 

Four years ago, on a roof seven states away, Andrew told Neil he was a side effect of the drugs. But Neil wasn’t a hallucination then, and he wasn’t a hallucination now. 

Andrew turned, and Neil was standing in the kitchen archway, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at him. He’d never seen Neil so annoyed, at least not at him. Andrew hadn’t been so relieved to see him in a very long time. 

“You’re here,” Andrew said, and he couldn’t keep the relief from his voice. He knew he failed expertly, in fact, because Neil’s expression shifted immediately. 

“Hi,” Neil said, his frown tilting up at the corners seemingly against his will. “And I’m glad to see that you’re alive.” 

Andrew wouldn’t apologize. He’d grown out of it and Neil knew him too well to expect it, but he felt the whisper of guilt regardless. Instead of replying, he started unloading the groceries just for something to do with his anxious hands, and after a beat, Neil stepped in to help. After a few minutes, the groceries were sorted and Neil and Andrew were standing only an arm's-length away, staring at each other. 

He wasn’t sure where to start. He thought maybe he should be angry, or frustrated at the very least, but he couldn’t find the reasoning. His brain decided for him. “I called Bee today,” he said. It was as good a place as any to begin, he supposed.

Neil frowned again, but it was a different one. Confused, maybe. Thoughtful.  “Did it help?” he asked carefully. 

Andrew lifted one shoulder in a vague shrug. “I thought about calling you afterwards,”  

“But you didn’t,” Neil said. 

“It wouldn’t have rang through even if I did,”  

“No, but you wouldn’t have known that,” 

“But I thought about it. I thought about it four times,” Andrew said honestly. 

“I guess that’s four more times than before,” Neil shrugged.

“No, I thought about calling you on Tuesday night, too,”

“Three more times, then,”

“Sure, if you’re keeping count,” 

Neil almost smiled, but it was weird at the edges. The lines around his eyes were tight, in a way that Andrew hadn’t seen in quite a few years. “Hey, can we be serious for a minute?” he asked plainly. 

“I’m always serious,” Andrew replied. 

“ Andrew ,” 

He waved a hand, “Go ahead, Josten,” 

Neil swallowed, and Andrew braced himself for the worst. Was this it, then? The culmination and manifestation of all of Andrew’s mistakes? 

But instead of breaking up with him, Neil said: “I was worried about you. I am worried about you. I didn’t want to interfere right away because you asked to do this alone and I wanted to do that for you, and I wanted to show you that I could do it too, but it’s hard, Drew. It’s hard to be this far from you, and it’s worse when you don’t even answer your phone . When you don’t even text me back. I just wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice at the end of my day so I could feel the slightest bit normal, and you just…disappeared.”

Andrew shifted uncomfortably against the counter. It was enough to be needed. It was enough to be cared for. It was enough to be wanted. 

It was enough to be loved.

“I should have asked for help,” he said after a long moment, and Neil blinked. 

“Help?” he asked. 

Andrew’s bottom lip was tender from where he’d been pulling at it with his teeth. “I should have reached out. I’ve been…struggling,” he admitted.

To their mutual surprise, Neil laughed, but it was humorless. “Me too, Drew. Me too.” 

“It’s hard,” he said. 

“I know,” Neil replied. 

“This place is too big and too empty,” Andrew told him. 

“Buy more furniture,” Neil reasoned. 

“It’s too quiet,” Andrew argued.

“Could always call me,” 

“ Neil ,”

“Or get a cat?” Neil joked. Or at least Andrew thought he did. 

“Yeah alright junkie, settle down,” Andrew said, hushing him. Andrew released his lip from the vice of his teeth. “I missed you, too.” he admitted, and it didn’t hurt. The world didn’t come crashing down around him, either. 

Neil finally smiled his perfect, crooked smile at him and Andrew’s pieces settled further into their places. It wasn’t perfect, or permanent, but it was better. 

They stared at each other for a long time, eyes flicking back and forth and up over eyebrows and down across mouths, re-memorizing every small feature and mark and blemish. Neil was so beautiful and Andrew had missed just looking at him. It was a luxury he hadn’t known he was taking advantage of until he’d no longer had it. 

“Can I hug you?” Neil asked suddenly, but hesitantly.  

“Yes,” Andrew said without hesitation. 

Hugging wasn’t common for them, but it was nice, now. It wasn’t tight, it was more of just falling into one another and a messy draping of arms, but it was good. Neil smelled like cigarette smoke and sweat and stale airplane air and Neil Abram Josten, and when Andrew tucked his face into his warm neck, the ache inside his chest began to subside.

Home might be the new apartment, one day, once he settled in and hung some photos and made his mark on the walls. For now, it was an argumentative, flighty redhead with a death wish and a barbed tongue and an unflinching loyalty to the people he cared about. It was five feet four inches and an old stolen T-shirt with a three on the back in orange. It was this. It was Neil. It was everything. 

——

The next morning Andrew woke with the sunshine cast across the headboard and across the fire-bright hair of his home. 

“How long can you stay?” Andrew asked quietly into the stillness. 

Neil grumbled and shuffled closer, locking their legs together at the ankles and pressing his mouth into the skin of Andrew’s bare shoulder where the sleeve of his sleep shirt had ridden up. “You have me for the week. Coach wants me back for practice on Monday.” 

It wasn’t permanent. But his bed was full and warm and even though the apartment was quiet, it wasn’t silent. 

It wasn’t permanent, but he could have this whenever he wanted. 

And in a year, Neil would find his way onto Andrew’s team, and the very last piece of Andrew’s heart would slip back into place.