#GS is still in Palmetto for at least another week

[jtl-fics]

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Aaron likes FF.

He’s a good friend to have and he’s been doing Aaron a huge favor this semester by tutoring Katelyn in German. He’d tried to tutor her but his teaching style and her learning had not been very compatible and it had been leading to some fighting between the two of them. Nicky had been the one to suggest that FF was a pretty good teacher and he wouldn’t take any sort of advantage of the inherent romantic setting of being a tutor (whatever the hell that meant).

FF was a good tutor.

Aaron liked to hang out while Katelyn and FF had their tutoring sessions and FF’s gaze never strayed down from Katelyn’s face when he was talking to her. He gave her German children’s books that he himself had used to better understand the written language and Aaron quite enjoyed the nights he spent over at Katelyns where she’d clumsily make her way through them as they were winding down for bed.

There were other things to like about FF.

He liked how FF could disagree with him without fighting with him. He liked how FF had the confidence to just leave any situation he didn’t like. He liked how FF sang to himself when he was distracted (he had a pretty good voice). He liked how FF could watch horror movies without blinking. He liked how he could sit in easy silence with FF and the two of them could just do their own thing. He liked how bad FF was at video games.

He liked how FF never confused Aaron for Andrew no matter what they were wearing or if they were aiming to confuse people. FF never said how he managed it when even Matt and Nicky got them confused every once in a while but FF never failed to know which twin he was talking to. He also played along when they were going about messing with the other non-FF freshmen by vacating the area instead of alerting anyone to them having switched.

(Aaron is completely unaware of an entirely uncomfortable talk that Nicky has had with FF where he asked FF how he could tell Andrew and Aaron apart. The answer was that initially Aaron always had a very tiny pen mark on his ear somewhere because he had a habit of putting his pen behind his ear. The answer in the long run was that they stood slightly differently and Andrew had a wrinkle that Aaron didn’t. Nicky had asked why FF was looking so closely at his cousins, “Well, I thought that Andrew might swap with Aaron at some point to lure me into a false sense of security and then he’d kill me.” FF answers unaware of why Nicky went still, “I realize now that Andrew isn’t like that.” FF had rushed to assure.

“Yeah…” Nicky had said awkwardly.

“Really, I honestly don’t think Andrew would pretend to be Aaron to kill someone.” FF had said again.)

The thing Aaron probably liked the most though was how happy his cousin was to have someone who was ‘his’ person. Andrew had Kevin and Neil, Aaron had Katelyn, and now Nicky had FF. They were hardly separate from the other Foxes nowadays and they roomed with Matt but there was always a difference for their group between ‘family’ and ‘friend’. FF was someone that Nicky had claimed as family and they had all agreed.

Aaron also enjoyed watching how Andrew and Neil both couldn’t fully comprehend how FF had ended up as Nicky’s when they had both made quite a few efforts. Nicky had always just shrugged and said that they’d understand when they were older before heading off to go see FF at Abby’s house as if the rest of them weren’t following right behind him.

FF was healing nicely and would be moving back into the dorms in the next week or so but he still spent a fair bit of time in Aaron’s room. He had heard Nicky talking to Wymack about possibly having him moved into their room which Aaron wouldn’t mind even if it mean that he’d have to do the ‘Smith Shout’ more frequently.

The ‘Smith Shout’ entails walking into rooms that you thought were empty but theoretically they could also contain FF. If you didn’t mind a minor heart attack later then you didn’t need to complete the ‘Smith Shout’ but if you were perhaps…interested in making out with your beautiful girlfriend?

The ‘Smith Shout’ was a must, they were all trying to get better about the levels of hanky and panky that FF was subjected to just because they failed to realize he was right there.

FF never made a big deal about it but it always felt embarrassing when they heard the click of the door as FF left the room they were making out in.

There was no need for the ‘Smith Shout’ today as FF was helping Katelyn with some basic vocabulary and going over conversations and pronunciation with her. Aaron was sitting nearby going over some micro-biology homework when they heard a door slam open down the hall, pounding foot steps, and then their door slammed open to reveal a pale-faced Kevin

“Kevin, what-“

Kevin shushed Aaron before he could ask what was wrong and came into the room and shut the door with shaking hands. His phone was held in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were white from the strain.

“Lord Moriyama just called me.” Kevin said shaking badly enough that Aaron wondered if he should guide the Striker over to their couch so that he could sit. “He…he let me know that he’s dropped the percentage I owe him to 65%” Kevin’s gaze slid to FF who was sat at the desks with Katelyn still. “He…he said to give you his…regards?” He says.

Aaron’s own gaze whips to FF.

“Ok.” FF says with an awkward shrug.

Aaron almost laughs at the lack of response but he holds it in unsure of how Kevin would take it.

“Kevin, it’s a good thing right?” Aaron says instead.

Kevin looks at him and nods frantically, “Yes. It’s a good thing.” He agrees. “35% makes things so much…so much easier.” Kevin says his shoulders sagging and it always bothers Aaron when he thinks about the deal that Kevin and Neil live under. He knows that Andrew has only been even listening to offers over a certain amount since he plans on helping Neil.

“I’m glad.” FF offers before turning back to Katelyn, “Ok, have you finished reading that book I gave you last week?” He asks apparently more interested in tutoring than in what Lord Moriyama had to say to Kevin.

“Oh, yes!” Katelyn agrees.

Kevin looks at them and Aaron has known Kevin long enough to recognize when he’s thinking about something. He even knows him well enough to sense when he’s thinking about something irritating.

Kevin leaves the room though so Aaron figures that it will be someone else’s problem.

He is, unfortunately, incorrect.

45 minutes later Kevin bursts into the room again and grabs Aaron, “I need your help with something.” He says, hands cold around Aaron’s wrist, and before Aaron can complain he is being dragged out of his room and into the room his brother shares with Neil and Kevin.

“Kevin, what the hell?” Aaron complains finally managing to pull himself out of Kevin’s grasp.

“I’m going to take control of Smith’s recovery.” Kevin says as if that was a normal thing to say, “Lord Moriyama wished him a speedy recovery and…and I owe him.” Kevin admits.

“You don’t need to take control of Smith’s recovery to thank him. You could just thank him?” Aaron points out the obvious answer but as per usual very few members of the Foxes were amiable to hearing the simple solutions that Aaron offered.

“No this is better. He’ll appreciate it more than just a simple thank you.” Kevin dismissed, “Now, do you think I should start with basic protein or more vitamin based smoothies for his recovery?” Kevin asks and only now does Aaron see the grocery bags of fruits, vegetables, and various other things littering the kitchen.

Why the fuck was everyone on this team so damn weird?

It was 20 minutes of Aaron trying to wrangle Kevin away from the weirdest combinations. The only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that Josten was going to see all of these veggies and probably hiss like a vampire as he backed away from the fridge.

Still, 20 soul crushing minutes and they had a green beverage sitting in the blender that Josten had bought the room his sophomore year for Kevin. “I’ll be asking you and Katelyn for assistance on this project.” Kevin says.

“No thanks.” Aaron says exhausted from the last 20 minutes.

“Then I’ll just do it alone.” Kevin says and Aaron thinks about the various things that Kevin had wanted to put into the smoothie, thinks of FF tutoring Katelyn without asking for anything, and how FF had lied to protect Aaron’s brother even from federal agents when he had nothing to do with the mess of two years ago.

Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll help.” He grits out because he couldn’t leave FF to the nutritional whims of Kevin Day. He already feels bad enough about the drink that FF is about to be subjected to but he can at least stop Kevin from crushing actual multi-vitamins into the drinks and claiming it would make for good ‘texture’.

They come back to the room and Aaron hears Katelyn and FF talking about a new smoothie place that might be good for FF to try, “…have a peanut butter and banana one that would probably be easy on your stomach.” He hears her say unaware of the monstrosity Aaron has just had a hand in creating.

“No need for that.” Kevin says confidence unshaken and undeserved as puts a glass of green juice down in front of FF. “Drink that.” He says.

Aaron is immediately filled with a desperate desire to both apologize and slap the glass out of Kevin’s hand. Inevitable stained carpet be damned.

“Sure.” FF says as he takes hold of the glass.

It feels as Aaron watches it happen in slow motion. He sees Katelyn’s own revolted face and wishes he could tell her that this really was the best he could do in terms of saving FF. FF, unaware of Aaron’s inner turmoil, takes a sip of the green beverage full of Kale, spinach, sprouts, protein powder (plain), and some crazy Chinese health supplement that Kevin swore by but smelled vaguely alcoholic despite Kevin’s INSISTENCE that it was not.

“I know alcohol, this isn’t alcohol.” Kevin had said and honestly it was hard to argue with that logic.

FF brought it to his lips and drank it.

Aaron felt like he should have gotten a garbage bin ready but instead he watches on in horrified awe as FF drains the entire nightmarish glass.

“Cauliflower?” FF asks as he wipes the remnants of the smoothie off of his upper lip.

Aaron’s head whipped towards Kevin who was smiling as he accepted the glass back from Smith, “I’m surprised you would notice.” He says visibly pleased even as Aaron bristles.

“How the fuck did you put cauliflower in there, I was watching you.” He hisses.

“Katelyn texted you, I put it in then.” Kevin shrugs.

Aaron regrets nothing.

***

Kevin continued to hand FF bizarre healthy combinations of fruits, vegetables, and god knows what. Aaron and Katelyn did their best to keep Kevin from going too wild with his purchases but Kevin on a mission was a difficult thing to stop.

It didn’t help that FF accepted any and everything that Kevin handed to him without a single flinch. As far as Aaron knew FF didn’t even know that Kevin had decided to take control of his recovery and diet for the foreseeable future.

He had been making a run to buy Katelyn some tampons when he found FF in the stomach pain aisle looking between a two-pack or an extra large bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Smiths, if Kevin’s god awful smoothies are hurting your stomach you can just tell him.” Aaron says as he drags FF out of the aisle knowing that Pepto Bismol would not be good. “You can’t take anything with aspirin. Nicky had me read your care instructions to him in plain English I know.” He says.

FF didn’t say anything as he let himself be dragged to the register where the girl there seemed surprise that FF wasn’t buying anything. “Nothing for you?” She asks looking at FF.

FF nodded, “Nothing for me.” He agrees.

“I’m glad! You deserve it!” She says smiling as if she hadn’t just said something that felt wildly rude to say to a customer.

Aaron grabbed FF by the arm, scowled at the cashier, and dragged him out.

“They don’t hurt my stomach. I ended up there more on auto-pilot than anything.” FF says and Aaron remembers the conversation they had been having in the stomach relief section. “I think what I had yesterday was a bit too much.” He admits and Aaron rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

Kevin’s nagging about their health had gotten a combination of better and worse since FF had started accepting the smoothies without comment.

Better because now Kevin had someone who he could unleash his full overbearing nature on and who didn’t seem to even care or notice just doing as Kevin ordered. Worse because now Kevin had a taste of what it was like for one of them to follow his orders.

This building irritation had lead to Josten and Andrew grabbing FF before he could be ambushed by Kevin for his usual lunch smoothie and drag him off to an off campus Deli that they both liked. Josten had probably wanted to feel just a little bit superior to the multi-lingual Freshman since it was a Russian Deli where the owner only really got what you ordered if you did it in Russian. It had happened on the day where at morning practice Kevin had implied that FF would be a better protege since he listened while Neil continued to refuse vegetables.

He could just imagine Josten offering to order for FF.

What an asshole.

He remembers coming into the room the day previous and finding them dumping the contents of a styrofoam bowl into the blender. “What is that?” Aaron had asked.

“Borscht.” Josten answered.

“Why are you putting it in a blender?” Aaron asks knowing that Josten didn’t have an ounce of social awareness.

“So Smith can eat it?” Josten said back to him slowly as if Aaron was the idiot between the two of them.

“Does Kevin know?” Aaron had asked

“Kevin can’t bitch, there’s plenty of vegetables in there.” Josten said with absolute certainty.

Kevin can, in fact, bitch.

“Andrew ordered the borscht for me.” FF says as they continue towards the dorms interrupting Aaron from his memory. “It was good, it was just too much. Like what Kevin said yesterday.” He adds.

Aaron can’t believe Josten is so opposed to ordering vegetables that he made Andrew order FF’s food for him.

What an asshole.

***

“A leash. I will find the largest child leash I can get and I will put it on you. Smithy, what the fuck.” Nicky bitches as they made their way out into the crisp December air. “I can’t believe you fell asleep and we almost left you again.” Nicky adds. “My sweet baby boy,

Aaron thinks his cousin is being over dramatic.

FF could walk back from the Fox stadium to the tower on his own just fine. He was a big boy no matter how many times Nicky claimed him to be his ‘sweet little baby boy’.

“I’m not your baby. Don’t call me that.” FF grumbles through his yawn sounding very much like a cranky little baby.

“Maybe stay awake through the game and I’ll consider it.” Nicky teases.

“The game was boring enough to play let alone just having to sit and watch.” Kevin says and it was only because Kevin had his ‘post-game’ smoothie for FF to drink that they realized he wasn’t there before they left the stadium. “We can hardly blame Smiths for falling asleep.” Kevin shrugs elated by the win but disappointed in the competition. “Drink your smoothie Smiths.” He says and FF went back to sipping at the unknown concoction, “The tart cherries and avocado should help you go to sleep when we get back to Abby's.” He says as if that combination was a natural one.

“Tart Cherries and Avocado?” Josten asks in obvious disgust.

“They’re-“

“Hey, Granny Boy!” Came a shout that interrupted Kevin’s explanation.

Usually, anything that interrupted Kevin from some going on another lecture was a good thing but Aaron, bringing up the rear, can see how FF’s posture went from relaxed to painfully alert in a matter of seconds.

“Daniel.” FF returns.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

#Fluent Freshman AU #FF definitely felt quite a bit of panic when Neil and Andrew invited him to the Russian Deli #Neil had in fact been feeling a little upset about Kevin complimenting FF #Still him and Andrew both knew that it wasn't really FF's fault that Kevin was...Kevin #They'd been meaning to bring the freshman there #They just didn't know that FF as a member of the Palmetto Russian Language Honor Society #Has been to this deli multiple times. #He doesn't know if it was by the grace of god or his own forgettable face #But somehow the owner didn't recognize him #GS is still in Palmetto for at least another week #She wishes a lifetime of doting hadn't made FF associate someone making food for him #with care and affection #As she watches him drink an 'oops all root vegetable' smoothie from Kevin #Also welcome to the start of 'Smith Lore' #It's gonna be a time #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #Andreil #Aaron Minyard #My Fics #FF - Pt. 33

[jemej3m]

Only - pt 3

Ok. Look. I’m still not sure if this was how i wanted to end it, but i decided enough was enough. its been, what, months?? 

i have not been doing so great, and writing has been difficult, but excuses excuses: here’s the highly anticipated end of Only (feel welcome to tell me what did and didn’t live up to your expectations)

~

There was something to be said about a fear of heights.

Most, at the very least, felt some sort of vertigo when staring over an edge. Some felt something a little more potent.

Others lied.

And some. Well. Some saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

Andrew had been on so many more aeroplanes since that flight from California to Southern Carolina, but the sputtering engines and unsubtle swoops still froze him. He didn’t move for the entire flight back to Upstate Regional, wishing he could have his knives.

He should have driven.

It was strange to desire his knifes as much as he did: He hadn’t needed their presence for a long, long time, not when the gap was filled.

That gap had reappeared, torn at the edges and larger than ever before.

The flight touched down and Andrew’s head fell back, eyes shut, stomach threatening to turn itself inside out.

He bolted. It was hard to not seemed panicked: He wasn’t panicked, but he was cramped up, feeling like he was being tossed around on puppet strings. He fucking hated it.

Bee was waiting for him at arrivals, swathed in light like some avenging angel, and Andrew fucking hated it. He hated that the southern humidity and the sight of the only woman who’d given a damn made him feel a little more anchored. He’d given so much to Neil: It wouldn’t be long before this haven was torn away from him too.

He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed again. It didn’t do much to the cotton wad in his throat, and the constricting sensation of being swarmed by other bodies, despite there being no one remotely close to them at this ungodly hour of the morning.

Bee smiled warmly and offered her hands. He nodded: She placed them gently on his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” She said it like this place was home.

Palmetto hadn’t been anything but the place he’d met Neil: And then, the place he would go back to visit Neil. So now, it was technically nothing. You couldn’t go back to something that wasn’t yours anymore. Not even nostalgia could keep him company: He fucking hated this place.

She’d bought a new car and it still smelled fresh. It was stony silence on the drive, filled with the generic pop music that Bee enjoyed and Andrew didn’t loathe enough to bother changing it.

Andrew would like to say that he felt nothing, but he was impossibly angry. He was furious. It shook his hands and clenched his jaw and make his stomach tie itself in knots.

He pulled out his phone and stared at his blank screen. He’d run his battery dead over the past week, staring at the texts that he’d sent, wondering how it’d gone so wrong.

He knew Neil. He knew how it’d gone so wrong, but he was incapable of fixing it. They couldn’t attempt that over the phone. It was killing Andrew: He needed to know if they could come back from this. He needed an ultimatum more real than just go away. If he was going to lose his reason to live completely, he had to have some sort of closure.

Bee would have a heart attack if she knew what he was thinking.

Andrew had tethered himself to the world with a single thread, and made the mistake of assuming it was much thicker than it truly was.

And then he’d cut it.

~

“Neil!”

Dan crushed him, but not before hesitating for his confirmation.

It had been a while: She’d been an assistant coach in Maryland and a full-time coach over in Washington. Now she was in South Carolina, assistant coach of Matt’s professional team down in Augusta and slowly filling in for Wymack, learning how to handle the Foxes, one season and set of players at a time.

“Hello.” He said, voice weak with oxygen deprivation. Sucking in a gasp of air when she let him go, he smiled weakly. “Hi, Dan. Where’s Matt?”

“He’s inside: We’re expecting the takeout to get here any moment, and you weren’t meant to be here for another hour.”

“Roads were clear.” Neil shrugged. It’d been a long stretch of driving with merely him and his dangerous snare of a mind. The still unfamiliar hatred of being alone pressed that accelerator down for him. Dan grabbed the tiny suitcase from behind him and threw open the front door. “Babe, the takeout’s at the door, do you mind?”

“Coming!” There was a loud clutter and Dan winked at him, taking his suitcase down the hall. “Hey, when’s Neil getting here, honey?” When Dan snuck into the guest room on the left, he called out again as he rounded the corner. “Dan?”

And then:

“Neil!”

Neil gave Matt as flat of a look as possible before being engulfed in a lot of t-shirt and muscle, nearly knocking him over completely.

“Neil, Neil, Neil, buddy!” Matt gushed; star struck, awed, amazed. Neil was still confused as to why: It was just him, just plain old Neil. “You’re early! Fantastic! Dan, Neil’s already here!”

Dan walked out of Neil’s room with a flat look. “I let him in, Matt.”

Matt grinned. “Right.”

Neil sunk between worn cushions, red duck curry thrust into his hands and warmth wrapping around him in a soft cocoon. The off season was just beginning, and he had the two of them and Palmetto just around the corner to ground him. Maybe a visit to Betsy. An introduction to the newest Foxes, if he was here long enough to meet them when they arrived.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

He wasn’t sure whether or not Andrew was the last or the only thing he wanted to talk about, and decided that Dan and Matt would dictate that choice for him. If they asked, he’d answer. If they didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything. It was like that for him, for most of the original Foxes. They would instigate and he would gladly continue, but starting something was where he was still finding trouble.

It was a familiar scene: A television playing a movie in the background, Dan gently coercing Neil into conversation over dinner, Matt popping in and cutting over and constantly swiping his thumb over the back of Dan’s knuckles where they were clasped together, but nothing more. They were trying to be subtle about a lack of close-ness, Neil could understand that much. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about their carefulness: Seeing Dan with her legs draped over Matt’s lap wasn’t going to send him spiralling down into a ditch of depression. There wasn’t much further he could go, anyway.

The guest room’s bed was soft and comfortable. Neil stayed awake and stared at the ceiling all night anyway, unable to sleep peacefully when he knew there were terrors behind his eyelids and no one to shake him out of sleep when it got nasty.

Neil couldn’t sleep, so he agonised and analysed until he was rubbing his temples, attempting to calm the ache in his head.                                      

This wasn’t fine.

Neil wasn’t sure of what he could do. He’d always been fine. What was left of him now that he wasn’t?

His fingers drifted to his phone and gripped it in a tight fist, fighting off stinging eyes, lips rolled into his mouth.

Andrew, come back.

~

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Neil ate blueberry pancakes that were too sweet and reminded him of exactly how Andrew liked his own.

Andrew didn’t eat, but had his coffee without milk or sugar. Wymack was smart enough not to comment.

Neither were asked about the other, but both were waiting for something to happen.

~

Neil sat, fingers tapping on his thigh for the entire ride up to Palmetto. This year, there were no Foxes who stayed back for the rest of the summer like the Monsters had. The court was, in Dan’s opinion, scarily quiet. She was going back for the morning to help Wymack finalise dorm rooms but mostly to take a trip down nostalgia lane with Neil.

He stared at the Tower on it’s grass knoll and did not look at the roof’s concrete ledge, because he knew he’d be looking for a tin tendril of smoke held between careful, calloused hands. He kept an eye out for the Foxhole Court’s looming orange arena. The sight of it didn’t bring him peace like it should have. It made him doubly as anxious.

“What’s the code now?” Neil asked, half in jest.

“Pretty sure it’s someone’s birthday.” Dan said, with a half-hearted shrug.

Neil’s eyebrow quirked. “Whose?”

She paused after keying it in and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t remember.”

Neil’s chest constricted when he ran the numbers through his head, and said numbly, “That’s the twins’ birthday.”

She shrugged again. “We alternate. Coincidence that it was one of us O-Gs, huh?”

Neil thought coincidences were bullshit.

She shut the door behind them and shoved it closed to make sure it locked before looping her fingers around Neil’s wrist. The hallway was unlit and spookily dim, the only source of light from the small fogged window in the door.

“I’m sorry, Neil.”

“Please don’t be.” He mumbled.

“I know you probably think it’s stupid, but—“

“Dan, please don’t.”

She frowned. He started walking down the hallway but she refused to let it go.

“Neil, you’re not okay. Are you going to talk about this?”

“There’s not much I can do about it, Dan.” He murmured, pushing open the door to the foyer.

“There’s not much you can do about it, but there’s plenty you can do for you.” Dan insisted. “You know that, right? It’s not a be-all-end-all. It’s not the end of the line.”

“Dan, I’m demi.” He knew what it meant, now. He hadn’t quite believed there was a label for him until he’d seen it, thought about it, related to it. “It is the end of the line.”

She looked pained. “Maybe.”

He turned around. There was no reasoning with her.

“Neil?”

“Hey, Coach.”

Wymack’s hair was considerably more silver, his face considerably more etched in. He wondered how different he looked since his old coach had last seen him without the grate of an Exy helmet distorting his appearance.

“Neil, I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“He’s down with me for a little while.” Dan, back to cheery-as-ever. “Tagging along on the off-season.”

“Court could do with a little use whilst no one’s here.” He grit his teeth. “Dan, a moment.”

Neil waited by the door and let his eyes slide closed as there was a harsh murmur from behind Wymack’s hastily shut door. Dan reemerged five minutes later, jaw clenched.

“Everything okay?”

Dan snapped out of her reverie but didn’t smile. “Fine. I’m just going to work out some hiccups with the dorm rooms with Coach, did you want some time on the court?”

“I’m actually going to go for a walk.” Neil decided. “Around campus.”

“I’ll ring you when I’m heading back to Augustus.”

“Sure.”

~

Andrew’s day hadn’t started particularly remarkable, but having Wymack and Danielle Wilds storming in, hot on his old coach’s heels, was a slight turn in events.

“Fuck you.” Dan pointed her finger at him.

“Dan,” Wymack said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t.”

Dan stared at Andrew with her nostrils flared, breathing raggedly in a way that lifted up her shoulders. Her eyes slowly slid shut, but her jaw and fists remained clenched tight.

“I already told you that he doesn’t know, Dan. Leave it.”

Andrew felt it like a hot knife, leaving him cut and feverish and aching. He had no clue what Danielle Wilds was angry about, and for the first time, he cared. Whatever it was between them, Andrew was excluded, and he was excluded for a reason.

Andrew was sick of being kicked out and cast aside. Looked over and abandoned. Neil had been the first to see him, to truly read past a facade—

Andrew stood off the couch and shouldered his way around the Foxes’ coaches, his nonchalance effortlessly convincing through practise. “Have fun.”

Just before Andrew closed the door, Dan let out a soft “It’s like they never happened.” and—

Well.

Andrew was not okay.

~

It happened in a series of painful coincidences. Andrew sitting on the roof of the Fox Tower until he didn’t want to anymore, and Neil sitting up in the stands, filling time by counting the rows of white and orange like he used to. They just missed each other as one went to exactly where the other was before.

Neil didn’t walk up to the edge of the roof, leaning against the door with his hand resting against the handle like the summer warmth could be residual heat from Andrew’s hands, despite thinking that Andrew hadn’t been up here for years.

Andrew broke into the inner court with old keys and sat within the goalkeepers’ box, eyes closing and seeing the original team standing in front of him, the goal lit up red, and the striker who’d scored turning around with hair just as red as the goal and triumphant eyes just as bright.

They’d only missed each other walking too and from because Neil went around the long way, winding through campus to take up his time.

Dan did not mention finding Andrew on the court to Neil, and Betsy didn’t mention Neil’s brief visit to Reddin Centre when saying hello to Andrew.

Lucky, perhaps, that the confrontation was postponed to the next day, because it was raining.

A light drizzle. Neil caught his ride to Palmetto State with Dan once again, but this time Matt tagged along.

“How often are you up here?” Neil curled his arm around his knee, propping up the heel on the leather seats of Dan’s new car.

“Not usually. But it’s off-season—hooray!” Matt grinned, nudging Neil’s shoulder lightly. “Good timing, Neil. If only campus was a little more lively: We could have hit all our best nap spots and terrorised our old professors. Or the baby Foxes. Hell, maybe we’d have time for both.”

“I’m afraid it’s just me and Wymack.” Dan piped up. “So nothing too rowdy, babe.”

Neil was dressed in his running clothes, but it was only lightly drizzling outside. Acutely ignoring the grey clouds, he bid the couple farewell. Matt thought he was crazy, but didn’t stop him. He’d have sandwiches for lunch if Neil came back on time.

And there we was, running. Again. In a less metaphorical sense, this time. But he could still feel that strange, wound-up anxiety in his chest that eased ever so slightly, the longer his legs stretched as he ran, the more blurred his surroundings became.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have ignored those black clouds. He barely noticed when the blurriness of his surroundings was the rainfall, and he only paused when he tilted his head up to breathe in, but was soaked through to the skin.

He was fucking shivering, he realised, now that he’d stopped running. For fuck’s sake. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and flipped up the hood to his thin, breathable running jacket, and started walking.

There were still cars on the road, but as the whole sky darkened and rain thickened, they seemed to lessen to almost none. A crack of thunder concealed the skid of tires as a car turned onto the road Neil walked along, and as it raced down, water sprayed up from the gutters. Rainfall Neil could deal with, but not buckets of muddy gutter water. Neil stood still, looking down at himself in unattached disdain, only to see the car who’d splashed him having pulled up and parked.

Someone got out and slammed the car door shut loud enough that you could hear it over the rain and another crack of thunder: Neil wiped his face and flicked the water off his hands (Though that did absolutely nothing) to see the figure approaching him.

Blond and five-foot even, he wasn’t much of a physical presence. If you didn’t know him, Andrew Minyard wasn’t much of a metaphysical presence either. To Neil, it was like every one of his nerve endings had caught on fire.

Andrew tugged down Neil’s hood, like Neil’s wet, red hair was the indicator of who he was, rather than the scars on his cheeks or the blue of his eyes. He was squinting at Neil, though it was probably just the rain.

Neil didn’t know why he let himself be tugged along, Andrew’s hand gripping Neil’s arm and the other yanking open the back door of the car and pushing Neil inside.

Neil looked at his shaking hands when Andrew got back into the driver’s seat, putting it back into drive and shooting off, like he hadn’t just picked Neil off the side of the road.

He didn’t even look at Neil.

You were right.

Anger—that was anger. Pulsating through his veins.

But it was— it had to be—grief. Grief that was pulling tighter on the rope around Neil’s neck.

Andrew had the heaters blasting, which did little for Neil’s shivering. Neil alternated between staring at the headrest in front of him—who’s car was this?—and his hands. His stomach knotted over and over, every time they took a turn. They were getting closer and closer to Palmetto State: Where would they stop? Would Andrew just kick him out? Would he say anything to Neil at all?

They pulled up to a stop outside the Foxhole Court, and Andrew hadn’t even looked at him.

Fine.

Neil shoved the door open and stumbled out into the oncoming rain. The car’s engine didn’t start up, even after Neil shut the door but he refused to turn around. Andrew doesn’t care. Andrew never cared. Andrew won’t care, even if you kick up a fuss.

Neil’s back pocket buzzed.

from: Andrew // 08:46am 13/4

roof y/n

His throat constricted.

Andrew said he couldn’t ‘do this’ over text, and yet here they were, and Andrew still wouldn’t look him in the eye and breathe a word in his direction.

to: Andrew // 08:49 - sent

will you even say anything if i go? have you suddenly gone mute? you haven't even looked at me.

The car door opened, and Neil clutched his phone to his chest.

“Yes or no, Neil.”

The clap of thunder was awfully theatric, and the flash of lightning illuminated everything, for only a moment.

He looked over his shoulder, still refusing to turn around. “When it clears up.”

He walked away.

~

“Neil,” Matt shook him by the shoulders. Neil was still gripping his phone, nauseous with shock, emptiness slowly gnawing at his stomach. A strange hollowness. “Neil, for god’s sake, you had your phone with you! Why didn’t you reply?”

“I was running.” Neil mumbled. “I wasn’t checking my phone.”

“Neil.” Dan urged. “Running? In this weather?”

“I’m fine.” Neil insisted.

“You take off five years from my life expectancy every time you say that.” Matt’s hand was resting on Neil’s head.

“You’d be dead.” Dan remarked.

“Let me dry off and change out, and then we can run some drills.” Neil ducked out of Matt’s gentle reach. “It was just some rain.”

“Some? You can barely see out there!”

Neil ran them up the court until they stopped complaining about Neil’s recklessness and started complaining about Neil’s obsession with the sport, despite all three of their careers centred around it. It was only Neil’s career that his life depended on, though, and they knew that. They also knew Neil was most comfortable in familiarity, and he was most familiar with their gentle jostling and their slight overbearing care, where they pushed at boundaries enough to get him to pay attention but not enough to make him uncomfortable.

“I was thinking of going to see Wymack later.” Neil towelled his washed hair, walking back out into the mailroom where Dan had been waiting for him an Matt. “Maybe we could all go have dinner at Abby’s.”

They looked at each other, like there was something Neil was missing.

Oh, Neil felt like an idiot when he realised. Andrew will be with Wymack.

Of course, they didn’t know that Neil knew that Andrew was here. Neil looked from Matt to Dan, and wondered if they would ever confess.

“I’ll call him.” Dan said, which was neither here nor there.

They don’t want to hurt me, Neil reminded himself. They don’t want to make me upset.

Neil followed them outside, sullen.

“It’s cleared up.” Matt commented, holding a palm out and inspecting it not a moment later. “You can always rely on South Carolina to dry everything out as soon as it can.”

Yes or no, Neil.

When it clears up.

Neil looked up at the blue sky, and marvelled at how it contrasted so awfully with the sick, tumbling feeling in his stomach.

“Lunch?”

Neil was moving in robotics: He didn’t want to dash off, because where would he go? What excuse would they believe? He hated lying to them, but until this rocking feeling stopped making him nauseous, until this confrontation was resolved and past him, he didn’t want to say anything.

Neil was sitting on top of a hastily constructed building of support: The Foxes were his family, were the walls and windows and doors and expansive gardens. Andrew had kept it from crumbling. Andrew was the foundations.

Neil didn’t want to fall down: He was terrified of it. How much worse could this get? How much lower could he fall?

Lunch was subdued but Neil felt watched, unwelcome eyes roaming over the landscape of his skin. Neil hated feeling like he was being watched. Paranoia was a sickly familiar smoke that he inhaled, making him thick-headed and heavy. He was meant to be safe. He was meant to be safe.

“Neil,” Matt put his hand over where Neil’s had yet to pick up his knife, despite his lunch being set down in front of him 6 minutes ago. “How are the antidepressants going?”

Sometimes Neil forgot he told Matt most things. He lifted his head from where it’d been resting in his palm and said: “They’re going okay.”

“Have you noticed a difference?”

“I trialled two different kinds but…” Neil flapped his hand. “They all do the same thing. They’re going fine, I think.”

“You talked to Betsy?”

“Yesterday, actually.”

“Good.” Matt smiled.

Neil almost smiled back.

Dan gazed off, pretending to not be intrigued about this rare exchange of information that Neil didn’t share with just anyone. They finished lunch slowly, and Neil payed as Dan and Matt helped the waiter clean up. He followed them out the door, looking at the puddles disappearing on the ground, and the clouds disappearing over the horizon.

His time was up.

He veered off the path, fingers gripping awfully tight at the strap of his bag as he said over his shoulder: “Text me when to get to Abby’s.”

“Where are you going?”

“Fresh air.”

“But you—“

Matt tugged Dan away. Neil closed his eyes only for a moment: He forced himself to pull them open to stare at his feet, taking one step after another.

He was walking along the edge of campus. He walked past the Foxhole Court, and two lecture halls, and an empty sorority, his old route on Perimeter Road. He stared at the Fox Tower like it was something with an ugly, heavy presence, but that was just Neil’s subconscious, curling itself into a cowardly ball to hide from whatever awaited Neil at the top of the stairs.

Neil climbed the stairs. Jostled the door open. Slowly stepped out.

“Took your time.”

Neil paused just before slamming the door shut and chose to shut it as quietly as he could, before turning around. He crouched down and pressed his fingertips into the small puddle on the concrete and watched rainwater slide down into his palms.

He stood up. “I said when it cleared up.”

“Theatrical.” Andrew scoffed.

“Should I come back in two hours?” Neil offered, looking at him. “Would that be enough time for you decide whether or not you’re going to be fucking prick or not?”

“Stop it.” Andrew turned around: He’d been looking out over the roof: Now he looked up at Neil with golden-hazel eyes, and permanently-etched in shadows under his eyes, and a hint of desperation but not much else. “Spit it out, instead of talking in circles.”

“Spit what out?” Neil clenched his hands into fists. He almost reached out to grasp Andrew’s face between his hands, but he remembered: No. I don’t trust him anymore. Wait.

“Your decision, your ultimatum, your latest argument with Kevin: I don’t care, Neil.” Andrew took a step closer. “Just—don’t leave me with nothing.” Everyone’s left me with nothing, He didn’t say. You were the one who wasn’t meant to leave.

“I haven’t spoken to Kevin in two months.” Neil muttered through his teeth. Every muscle in his body was wound like a spring, pulled taut like a rope.

“You are apt at ignoring calls.” Andrew decided. “I almost expected something to happen whilst I was gone.”

Whilst I was gone.

“Are you back?”

Neil watched the swallow work down Andrew’s throat, the unsteady inhale that was held in as he said: “If you would like me to be.”

None of this made sense. There should have been an apology: Andrew should have been begging for Neil’s forgiveness. But he was standing here like he expected Neil to say yes, like nothing had happened and nothing had changed as a result.

But he reminded himself: Andrew had already apologised. He’d already sung please like a prayer, crossing his own boundaries like he’d crossed his own wrists in a desperate urge to communicate to Neil how important this was to him. Despite both of them hating that word, despite both of them knowing that they each hated it as much as the other did: He’d still used it, and it echoed around Neil’s head and conjured up a strange feeling on his skin, like thin knife-blades dancing across vulnerable skin, digging in just hard enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to break the skin.

Slowly, Neil nodded.

Andrew let go of the breath he’d been holding and reached out to slide his hand to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Neil’s neck, but he stood out of Andrew’s reach when he felt sick. “No.”

Andrew flinched, ever so slightly, but it was enough for Neil so see. Wariness. Confusion. Andrew hadn’t realised what had changed.

“Neil?” Andrew murmured. It was a silent why? that Neil didn’t need to be asked out loud.

“You need—” Neil looked at him. “You need to give me time.”

Andrew’s lips thinned as he rolled them into his mouth.

“You can’t expect me to just trust you implicitly, instantly.”

Andrew took a step back, and nodded.

This was all on Neil’s terms now. When this had started, Neil had been tip-toeing around grey zones, wondering where was safe and what he could say. Now it was reversed: Neither of them were good at functioning as normal human beings did, but it was Andrew who needed to be conscious of what he said, what he did.

Neil didn’t want apologies, he realised. He didn’t need Andrew to beg him for forgiveness. He just needed to trust Andrew, and to know that Andrew trusted him. It never came quickly.

Neil walked to the edge of the roof and looked over it, then out over the Palmetto State campus.

Andrew had been the catalyst of how living changed for Neil. He was no longer fighting to be alive, no longer living just to survive. Now he was living for a life he wanted. And in this life, he wanted Andrew.

“I can hear you thinking from back here.”

Neil looked back at him, and then brushed his fingers over the concrete ledge in front of him. “Won’t you join me?”

“Things have changed, Neil.” Andrew’s head fell to the side, and he was looking at Neil like that. “I don’t need to sit on the edge of a roof to feel something.”

“I want to go to Eden’s.” Neil knotted his fingers together, wringing them out like damp towels. He let Andrew pull his hands apart, but Andrew immediately dropped his hands instead of holding his wrists, like they used to.

“Retracing your steps?” To anyone, this was impassive. Andrew was a brick wall yielding no information, no emotion. Neil saw the inquisition in his eyes and the curious raise to his eyebrows, and the slight pucker of apprehension to his lips.

“Something like that.”

Andrew followed Neil down the steps.

~

They went the following evening, on a Monday. Eden’s was less of a club this early in the week, and more of a bar to men and women after work. They came in jeans and dress-shirts and did not stand out in that regard, just two men walking into a bar. But after years, many of the staff had moved on, and they were no longer treated like VIPs

Andrew didn’t know what he—himself and Neil alike—was doing, and he didn’t like it. Neil never voluntarily came here for a good time: He went because Andrew went, but Andrew watched him approach the bar and sit on an empty stool, fingers brushing gently over the one next to him as a gesture for Andrew to sit down.

Andrew didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what Neil wanted, and he didn’t know what to say, what to do. He still felt like he needed to apologise, to explain himself, but that wasn’t what Neil wanted. For the first time, he didn’t know what Neil wanted, and he felt lost.

“Roland’s moved on, I think.” Neil commented, looking up and down the bar.

Andrew didn’t want to correct him by saying he hadn’t, because they’d still remained in touch via text, and that probably wasn't something to bring up when Andrew felt like he was treading on this ice. He rested his head in his hand and waited for Roland to come out of the kitchen. He watched Neil’s reaction for when he did, wondering if this was a test.

“Hey,” Roland blanched. “What are you two doing here?”

“Catching up.” Neil shook out his curls and Andrew’s stomach rolled.

Roland looked between them. “With me, or each other?”

Neil gave him a stone-cold look, and Andrew stared at the shelves behind the bar.

Two rum-and-cokes were settled down in front of them, and Andrew stared at his, eyes clouded over with thought. What did Neil want from him, by doing this? Did he want Andrew to let his guard down? Was this a test of how much Andrew trusted Neil, or how much Neil trusted him?

Turns out, the correct answer was none of them. When Andrew finally came to himself, another drink was being pushed in front of Neil, and he barely hesitated to look at Andrew before throwing it back. Andrew reached out to take it from him after he put it down. “Neil?”

“Mm?” He looked at Andrew blearily.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m in a bar. What else—“ He coughed. “Would I be doing?”

“Why are you getting—“

“Because I can.” Neil pointed right in his face, like he was throwing an accusation. “Because I don’t trust myself to shitface—to get shitfaced—around anyone else, but you were the reason I wanted to, but I couldn’t, because you were there. Weren’t.” Neil corrected.

“Christ, Neil.”

“I hate you.” Neil spat, head falling forward. Andrew kept very still as Neil’s head rested on Andrew’s shoulder, thinking we truly have reversed positions, haven’t we.

“You have every right to.” Andrew carefully placed his hand on Neil’s shoulder to keep him steady, sitting on the rickety barstool that he was. The scarring on his shoulder was familiar under his fingers, despite a dress shirt separating them, and Andrew relaxed.

Neil breathed out and Andrew felt it on his collarbone.

“You are not falling asleep here.”

“Two seconds.” Neil murmured.

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Enough.” Neil mumbled the word against the skin of Andrew’s neck, and Andrew swallowed.

“I think it’s time to go.”

Neil didn’t say anything.

Andrew waved Roland over, who eyed Neil with trepidation. Andrew took out his wallet from his back pocket and threw it at Roland, but Roland threw it right back with a timid smile.

“Drinks are on the house.” He said. “Take care of him, Andrew.”

Andrew thought he had been, but now he knew that it hadn’t been enough.

Andrew slipped Neil off the barstool. Neil was barely walking, half-asleep and all of his weight pulling against the arm Andrew had around Neil’s waist. Andrew settled him carefully in Bee’s car and shut the door.

Neil made a soft sound as they drove, and Andrew’s throat was tight. How did I almost lose him?

His phone was ringing.

“What.”

“Where are you?” He heard Wymack tapping his fingers on a wooden surface, most likely his desk. The old man would be sitting, lounging back with his foot crossed over his ankle, books and papers scattered absolutely everywhere, but just enough space for him to rest his elbow along the parallel edge of the desk. He was the only father figure Andrew had ever known. Andrew knew every one of his affectations and could construct this perfect image without a qualm.

“Driving.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Now. I’ll be there in an hour. Who’s there?”

“Abby’s going to head back soon. She can give Betsy a lift.”

“I’m coming, Bee can take her own car.”

“Okay, Andrew.”

There was an awful, prolonged silence, and it weighed like bricks on his chest.

“Andrew.”

Andrew said nothing.

“They can’t find Neil.”

Andrew briefly looked at Neil where he’d curled up. “Who’s they?”

“Dan and Matt. He was staying with them in Augustus.”

“Tell them he’s fine.”

Wymack paused. “Is he with you?”

“Tell them to go home.”

A pause.

“Alright.”

The line went dead, and Neil sighed softly. Andrew’s head leaned back to rest against the headrest, his swallow working it’s way down his throat. It’ll be okay. Bee’s voice of reason soothed his frazzled nerves and relaxed his death-grip on the steering wheel.

He listened to the soft rhythm of Neil’s breathing for the rest of the drive and concentrated on pushing the whittling sneer of his conscience far enough away that he couldn’t hear it.

~

David heard the awkward fumbling with the door handle and the jingle of keys, so he walked out into the living room where Andrew was just shouldering his way into his apartment, with Betsy’s keys in one hand and—

Neil. Neil, being carried in his arms. Andrew had positioned Neil’s head to rest on his shoulder, forehead pressed into the side of Andrew’s neck, rested both of Neil’s arms in his lap, and held onto him securely.

They were both dressed nicely, and neither had any visible bruising or blood. Andrew slowly eased Neil onto David’s couch and then turned around, looking away. Betsy stood up from the dining table to approach him, taking the keys out of Andrew’s offering palm and whispering something in Andrew’s ear. The door shut behind her, and Wymack slowly approached the couch.

“Is he alright?”

“He drank too much.” Andrew sat precariously, right on the edge of the couch and giving Neil as much space as he could. Andrew looked up at David, and David had never seen Andrew at ease like this.

“Are you two alright?”

“He needs time.”

That was—that was neither here nor there. “A loss of trust?”

Andrew shrugged, and gently—ever so gently—moved a curl away from Neil’s forehead. Then, he sunk down onto the floor next to the couch and took Neil’s hand, fingers dusting over the scars like he’d memorised their pattern, closing his eyes.

That was more than enough for David, who assumed Andrew would sort himself out and moved into the bedroom, raising his phone to his ear.

“He’s here, Dan.”

She let out an exhale of relief. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. They’re fine, I think.”

“Who, Andrew and him? He was with Andrew?”

“Mm.” Wymack turned back to hint a smile at the closed door.

“Well.” Dan said, sounding confused. “Remind him to give us a call when he wants to come get his things.”

“I will. Goodnight, Dan.”

“Night.”

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #not-so-mini fic #only #aftg #the foxhole court #i apologise for the deprivation of content #david wymack #dan wilds #matt boyd #<3 #jem writes