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kimburgess-ruzek · 3 years

Text

you have no idea.

chapter two.

summary: burzek. Something Kim does changes her future in Intelligence forever. In ways no one can imagine. But when she is caught on the wrong side of crime, will her previous reputation and relationship with the police help her? Or are her actions so damaging that nothing or no one can save her?

word count: 3.5k

t/w: none.

read on ao3.

two.

tap, tap, tap. tap, tap, tap.

The bullpen was silent. Well, for the most part, except for the excessive tapping coming from Adam’s pen on his desk. He was so exhausted. and not just from the lack of sleep. no, he was so tired of not enjoying his work day anymore. before, before everything changed, he loved going to the district. he loved serving the city. it didn’t feel like work for him, and he loved getting justice for chicago. now, he barely makes it to work on time, never volunteers for overtime, and can hardly make it through the day without getting grumpy, hangry, or fed up. what caused the change in adam’s attitude? adam liked to beat around the bush, blame his attitude change on anything but the truth, whether that be old age, time, or the lack of vacation hours. but in reality, he knew why he hated coming to work everyday. hell, everyone in intelligence, at the 21st knew why. kim. it was because of kim. the way everything went down, how he doesn’t get to see her everyday, how he doesn’t get to take her to molly’s after a hard day and buy her a beer, how he doesn’t know where she is today, how her leaving changed the entire dynamic of the upstairs. everything about this situation made adam feel slimy, and he can’t help but feel some type of way when it comes with kim. because believe it or not, he is in love with kim. he’s never stopped loving her, and even though he hasn’t claimed it, even though he never admits it, he still feels bad for how everything went down and how he can’t be with the love of his life. what makes him feel worse is that he can’t do anything about it. and kim won’t reach out to him. adam feels helpless. truly helpless.

adam was running his mind to the ground and his body was physically doing all that he could to stay awake; the fact that there was no action happening with the case right now really wasn’t helping much.

at first, Jay and Hailey had no luck gathering security footage from the club. The owner refused to give it up, leading the team to believe that he must know something important. The two brought him in, with some help with patrol after the owner decided to take off, and now Voight and Rojas were interrogating him while Hailey and Jay watched behind the window. Adam and Kevin were in the bullpen, ready for the when the footage would be sent to them. Because the owner wouldn’t give it up, the video cam had to go through paperwork before being able to be looked through.

Adam was lost in his uncontrollable, subconscious tapping when he was hit in the forehead with a flying, foreign object.

thud.

after being stunned for a second, adam looked down at the object and found out Kevin threw a flying wad of paper, breaking him from his trance and making him drop his pen.

“Ruz, if you don’t stop that damn tapping, I’m gonna have to come over there and kill you.” Kevin deadpanned as leaned away from his computer screen, making himself visible to adam. he sat back in his desk chair after throwing the paper ball, succeeded both in the perfect aim of the flying paper was and getting adam to stop tapping his pen. kevin was just as tired as Adam, and the constant, incessant noise was starting to give him a headache.

Adam was too tired to even pick up neither the paper nor the pen that had fallen to the ground. instead he put his hand to his temple where the paper wad hit and looked at kevin with confused, tired bug eyes.

“bro, what the hell?!” adam half yelled, using his free hand to throw up in the air in disgust.

kevin didn’t even give adam an answer. he half laughed, giving adam that “you’re such an over exaggerating, neurotic ass and you need to stop looking at me with those bug eyes because it’s just a piece of paper” look. he shook his head and turned around, got up and walked to the break room. of course, adam, being the guy that he is, had to see this through. while he was tired, he still thought it was uncalled for. he marched into the break room after kevin, who was pouring both of them a cup of coffee.

“yo, what’s your problem, man?” adam asked in the doorway.

kevin finished pouring adam’s cup of coffee before turning around to face him. he sighed, and after a long pause said, “bro. it was just a piece of paper.”

adam sighed and put his hand to his forehead, only then realizing how stupid he looked. he tried to relieve the tension from his headache to no avail, so he instead took the coffee kevin offered him.

“and you were tapping your pen which was distracting me from daydreaming about all of the free time i’ll have away from you when I retire.” Kevin finished as he handed adam his coffee and sipped on his. Adam took his mug and drank all of it in one swig like it was water. he gave the mug back to kevin and kevin had to double check to see if adam actually drank all of it, which he did. impressed, kevin placed the mug in the sink.

“Sorry man, I didn’t even know I was doing it.” Adam buried his face with his hands and sighed, leaning against the wall. He was exhausted, and his empty stomach was reminding him how hungry he was by growling every four minutes.

“what’s up, bro? really, you know i’m here for you,” kevin looked at his friend with concern. of course he knew what was wrong with adam; he’d never been the same since that day. but the two of them had never talked it out, and he thought adam would benefit by confiding in him.

for the first time — whether it was because of him actually wanting help or him just being completely exhausted, he didn’t know — adam admitted his true feelings.

“man, i just… i just want her back up here, you know. it’s not the same, it’s not fair… it’s not fair how everything went down.” adam took a breath, feeling a weight lift off of him. as much as he hate to say it, he felt good finally saying what he’s been feeling for the past two months. kevin just looked at him, letting adam finish getting everything off his chest.

“and it’s more than that, man… i feel bad for her i really do. and i feel guilty everyday, because everyday i don’t get to see her up here when i know she deserves it. i, i should’ve stood up for her. i should’ve been there for her. i should’ve… i should’ve done more. and now, she hates me, she’s out of a job, and she’s off the grid. hell, i don’t even know if she’s still in chicago. and it sucks. it sucks that i can’t be there for her when i know she needs it.”

kevin walked over and put his hand to adam’s shoulder, showing him support. “bro, you did everything you could. there was no helping the situation. and you are being there for her, by calling her, even if she doesn’t return them. kim’s strong. she’s just.. you know she’s taking it hard. she’ll come around. she will.”

Adam let out a breath and nodded to kevin. it’s still not fair, adam thought to himself. but he didn’t want to drag it out and he appreciated kevin’s support. he just wanted everything back to the way it was, but he didn’t know how.

kevin and adam walked back into the break room to see that the others were still in the interrogation room and the footage hasn’t been approved to watch yet. they both sighed and slumped back into their chairs, getting back into their boredom.

out of the blue, kevin let out, “i can’t take this. i’m bored and i need food.”

after adam’s stomach growled for about the third time in the past ten minutes, he let out, “I need food too. and more caffeine.”

“hey man, why don’t you go get us some lunch. and you can get you some coffee that doesn’t taste like it came from the break room.” Kevin suggested, smirking and shrugging his shoulders.

“Really? You think it’s a good idea...” Adam asked, wary. Ever since Kim has been gone, Voight has been pretty tough on the team. He’s gotten stricter, not taking much bullshit from anyone. and yes, he’s even strict about leaving on a personal to get lunch.

As much as he would hate to admit it, Voight wasn’t doing that well either. When Kim left, he not only lost someone from his unit, but he also lost a valuable, genuine person that he considered a peer and colleague. To him, Kim has always been humble and hardworking. She was never obnoxious and she never acted self-righteous towards civilians. no, she actually cared about these cases, unlike others upstairs. kim saw more than bad guys and drug addicts; she saw people who needed help and victims that needed justice. she always saw a case through, and she never wanted to quit. To Voight, it was almost as if Kim was never satisfied with her work. She always wanted to do more, handle more cases. and He liked that about her. Kim was someone that he got to train and advise from the beginning; he got to watch her grow as a cop and person as she worked in Intelligence. and he loved that. he loved getting to watch someone with no policing background defy the criticism and earn a spot in intelligence. he admired how hard kim fought to be in intelligence. he appreciated the hard work she put in in order to prove not only everyone else but also herself that she deserves to be recognized.

and then the whole situation went down. voight tried to save kim by benching her, but he should’ve known she would leave on her own. and he hated himself to this day for it. he should’ve done a million things different, if he did, kim would still be up with his unit and everyone would still be happy. but he didn’t, and kim was no longer there. Voight did feel bad about the whole situation that happened with Kim; he felt awful about the aftermath and falling out of the case. but there was nothing he could do. It had gone too far. kim had gone too far. voight regrets not fighting more for kim to stay. he does. and he feels guilty that kim has basically gone radio silent. he asked around for the first couple of weeks, seekng if adam heard anything from her. when he realized kim wasn’t going to call back, voight never asked again. he hardened on the outside. he knew he could never go backward, so he decided to move forward. he decided he was going to save everyone else and not let another situation like this ever happen again by throwing himself on his work. he started being tougher on the team. No more rule breaking. Everything by the book. by doing so he hoped nothing like i with kim would ever happen again. and he hoped that with time, kim would finally come around.

Even though Adam could see through Voight — he could see how hurt he was — he still knew not to cross him. But Kevin was in dire need of coffee and he knew Adam could use the fresh air and change of atmosphere. He also knew Voight wouldn’t be too mad if he was back by the time the footage was released.

“Just go, bro. Voight won’t even know. that club owner doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. plus, I’ll text you when we get the footage. Just don’t dally.” Kevin reassured.

Despite Adam still being suspicious, he got up and put his jacket on and hopped down the stairs. He was almost in the clear before he heard someone calling his name over his shoulder.

“Ruzek.”

Adam hastily turned around and walked back up to the voice that just called his name. “What’s up Trudy?”

Trudy lowered her glasses on her nose and looked at Adam. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“just getting me and kev some lunch. and Quickly, so I won’t get chewed out by my boss.” Adam hinted, wanting to be excused so he could get out and back in time. He raised his eyebrows and bit his lip.

“Alright.” Trudy nodded and paused, looking Adam up and down.

Adam waited and after a second of feeling uncomfortable, he turned and left but was yet again called back by Platt.

“adam. come back here i wasn’t done.”

“Sargent, if you don’t mind, I would like to get back in time so I can maintain my job.” Adam huffed and walked back to the sergeant’s desk. He was losing precious time every second he stayed in the building.

Trudy extended a hand and patted Adam on the arm.

“Adam.. If you need anything, just to talk or even to sit and listen, I’m here.” Trudy offered, staring right at Adam.

Trudy took the news hard. Really hard. Kim was without a doubt her favorite person up in intelligence, and even thought she didn’t show it outwardly, Kim had a soft spot in her heart for trudy. She appreciated all of Kim’s resilience while on patrol and she missed being able to pick on her and talk to her when Kim moved up to Intelligence. However, they still kept their friendship while kim was upstairs.

After Kim and Adam lost the baby, they both took it hard. Adam was more transparent with his feelings, but Kim grieved hard and alone. trudy tried getting kim to talk, but kim wouldn’t budge at first. Eventually, though, she opened up to Trudy, ever so slightly. kim kept opening up, each time sharing a little more of her feelings. trudy never pushed her more than what she felt kim could handle, and kim appreciated that. the two would talk after shift here and there. it was never really at an official meeting place, just whenever kim would want to get something off of her chest. but trudy loved it. she knew kim needed someone to confide in, and she felt honored that it was her and kim trusted her enough to do so. Trudy learned a lot about Kim that she never knew beforehand, like her life before policing and why she is the way she is.

and then came that case. the case that never should’ve happened if justice was served the right way the first time.

*flashback*

trudy was working the front desk like she does everyday. even though it was so late, she was still at the front desk per voight’s request. she had known about the case intelligence was working, and she was helping out in anyway she could. she knew the team were en route to arrest the two men that just recently got their freedom back, and she knew that voight made kim stay upstairs. trudy knew kim took it hard, she wanted so badly to give firsthand the justice those men’s victims deserved. and voight and trudy both knew that without someone watching the front exit, kim would sercretly make her way out and to the nightclub. so trudy, wanting to protect kim from not only voight but from her own impulsiveness, she stood at the front desk, making sure kim wouldn’t try anything. so when she got a personal call from voight, so knew something was up.

“trudy.”

“hank. what’s up.”

“did burgess leave upstairs?”

trudy could hear the concern in voight’s voice, making her start to grow weary. “no, i’ve been watching the front like a hawk. she hasn’t stepped foot downstairs.”

“i need you to go upstairs and see where kim is. the two men are not at the nightclub, and she hasn’t given any updates in the past 9 minutes. she would’ve gotten a ping on their car if they left.”

“copy you.” trudy took her phone off of her ear and half ran upstairs. the pit in her stomach kept rising, and she knew something bad had to have happened. kim wouldn’t have left her desk long enough to not see the car move and notify the guys. no, something had to have happened. and trudy didn’t like the feeling she had about this.

trudy came to an empty upstairs. she surveyed the room and saw no movement, no sign of kim anywhere. she panned to her desk and saw that the computer screen was up, but her jacket was gone.

“no. no. no. no. no.”

“trudy what’s going on?”

voight took trudy out of her thoughts. she put the phone back up to her ear and went to kim’s desk.

“hank, kim’s not here. she’s not upstairs and her jackets gone.”

“shit. where would she have gone trudy?” voight’s voice was rising and trudy looked over her desk, worried. she was looking for any clues about her whereabouts when she saw it.

“the two men’s car showed to have left the bar 8 minutes ago. it pinged at 17th avenue.” trudy looked at the whiteboard filled with information from the ongoing case.

“that must be their apartment. kim must’ve left to go to their apartment. she must’ve took the back exit.”

“send me that address NOW.” trudy could feel the anger in voight’s voice through the phone. she quickly sent the address.

she couldn’t believe it. what was she thinking, not covering the back exit? now kim had gone off the books, gone rogue. and whatever kim did, trudy would hang over her shoulders.

what was kim doing?

and now kim was gone, went awol. Trudy felt that previous bond disappear. she felt guilt, she felt horrible, she felt resentment. she couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault that everything went bad. she should’ve known kim wasn’t going to stop, she was going to do everything she could to help those women. and even though afterwards, voight and the team said it wasn’t trudy’s fault, she knew herself that kim would still be up there today if she had just stayed upstairs with kim.

trudy had tried to reach out to kim, but she got no answer and after a few weeks, she eventually gave up. But she knew Adam didn’t. and she knew if anyone took kim leaving harder than her it was adam. so she would sporadically try to talk to him, let him know she was there for him. it was the least she could do, she felt like.

Adam tensed his jaw and just nodded, almost unable to get a ‘yes’ out. When Trudy smiled softly and cued toward the door, excusing him to leave, he quickly turned around and walked out of the district to his car. Now all he had his mind on was food and caffeine, and getting back in time before getting his head chewed off.

...

The ride to the get lunch was pretty fast and uneventful. All Adam could think about was getting his hands on his favorite sandwich from his favorite deli shop that was conveniently next to a nice, local coffee shop. Adam looked down at the time.

11:55 am.

It was prime time for lots of hungry day workers, and Adam could tell by the crowd through the glass windows and the busy sidewalk. Adam knew that he had to make a quick run in order to get back to the bullpen in time so he hurriedly paralleled parked and jogged across the street. he had the game plan of getting his coffee, drinking it as he went and got him and kevin some lunch, and eat it on the way back to the bullpen with no trace of evidence by that time he got back to the 21st. he put his badge on his right hip in plain sight, hoping he would get some brownie points. He pushed past the moving current of the sidewalk and as he swung the door wide open he bumped into someone, causing the person to drop their recently purchased coffee on the ground.

Shit, Adam.

Adam was regaining himself when the woman he bumped into knelt down and tried to salvage her freshly brewed, hot coffee, only for her to realize it was spilt and gone forever.

“God, look where you’re going next time.” The woman scolded Adam, standing up and brushing her shirt.

All of a sudden, Adam froze in his place. The woman was shorter than he and was wearing a black ball cap, so Adam couldn’t see her face. But he knew that voice. He knew it from mile away.

It can’t be. It can’t be her.

“Are you going to get out of my way or—“ The woman rolled her eyes and looked up at Adam, preparing to chew him out for taking up her time and slowing her down. That’s when Adam’s thoughts were confirmed.

Kim.

#chicago pd #chicago p.d.#one chicago #burzek #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic #cpd fic #you have no idea fic #you have no idea fanfic #kim burgess #adam ruzek #kevin atwater #hank voight #trudy platt #burzek fic

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xlady-saya · 4 years

Text

i’ve had a love of my own [ch 1]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

Neil pricks himself on the old Palmetto pin as he fixes it to his collar, jabbing the same spot on his thumb he hit just a week before.

He hardly winces at the feeling these days, and for a long time, Matt joked about how he really couldn't go a day without attracting some form of violence. Neil smiles at the thought, because it's far from the truth. He stands by the claim he never asked for fights, simply had no problem finishing them.

"You mean letting me finish them," Andrew would quip, and they'd go back and forth all over again in a never-ending argument. It's so never-ending, Neil goes through the motions of it even now, however many decades later.

This pin tends to start it, since it's the only remotely dangerous thing he owns now. The orange is still bright and obnoxious, with criss crossing Exy racquets in a bright white. He's memorized the raised edges, tilted from old age. The once silver backing has rust spots, but no one ever sees that part. It has its reputation intact, and Neil smiles sardonically.

It's not the only thing that's been worn down, but he likes to think he doesn't look as bad as he could too. Laughing at his own joke, he taps the pin lightly. It's apparently vintage now, according to Allison, since the new Palmetto merch has drifted into neon territory.

Neil is glad he kept his own. It's especially important today, he thinks, that he shows as much fondness for the past as possible. Though, it's not for his sake. His room is nothing but littered with the tokens of the past.

Sighing, he stares fondly out across the living room, the walls haphazardly decorated with old, signed jerseys his friends used to wear. He has one from each of their old teams, but picked his favorites to go up on the wall. The rest sit in storage, ready to be auctioned off whenever he decides living is too much of a chore. Above the mantle, Andrew's racquet from his last team hangs in a shadow box. Then below it, framed pictures which Neil tries to rotate as best he can, some of them shitty ones converted from his phone camera. Mostly, they're of his Foxes at various points in their lives. The only two photos which stay the same are the one he took with Andrew and Kevin at the Olympics, and the snapshot of him and Andrew at the airport in his first year at Palmetto.

If he had to catalog the room, that would barely scratch the surface. He's pages away from mentioning Nicky's terribly made mugs, Betsy's first editions, and cookie tins filled with postcards Katelyn and Aaron sent twenty years ago.

Most of the time, the untidy collection of junk surrounding him is a comfort. It makes the small apartment feel like home, or as close as he can get when he's by himself. He swears some of the items still carry the unique scents of grass stains and floor polish, or Allison's perfume and the glitter glue from Dan and Matt's kids.

When that fails him, the candle he has in every room does the trick to fill in the blanks. Andrew used the same scent for over half their life together: breakfast pancakes. It's sickly sweet and stains the furniture, and Neil loves nothing more than to bury his face in the cushions after a day of having them lit.

These are the things that ground him, that keep him in place, but today he feels fidgety for the first time in years. He shouldn't be, he thinks, laughing to himself. He planned this after all, it's just...

Well, he's never been the best at talking to people.

There's a knock at his door, and the cuckoo clock on the wall (shockingly, that one is his fault) tells him it's right on schedule. Neil sighs, slipping his feet into the white slippers beneath him. "Come in, Sydney."

The nurse on his floor opens the door to his apartment with a smile, too fresh faced and early for this time of day. She’s young, and she's always been a bit cheery for his taste, but she reminds him of Katelyn and he allows it. In the last few years, when Andrew's migraines prevented him from reading, she'd bring him audiobook gift cards.

She smiles bright, and he gives her that look for her to cut it out. At this point, she's less put off by it and more amused. He only tells her to save the smiles because if she doesn't she'll have wrinkles like him years from now. He hates how much he sounds like Allison.

Neil hardly looks in the mirror anymore, but this morning he put in some effort. He looks as perpetually tired as he always looked back in the day, except now his eye bags are accompanied by wrinkles that form their own topographical map on his face.

At least he didn't lose all his hair.

The only thing is his blue eyes are as piercing as ever, so coupled with the grandpa look, he's quite intimidating. Not that he needs to be, but it's nice to feel a little capable when he can barely walk by himself anymore.

"Morning, Mr. Josten," Sydney greets, untucking the wheelchair from behind the door and pushing it over to him. He makes sure to grab Andrew's favorite crochet blanket. He hates messing with it, but he thinks the smell of nicotine it carries will help him today. Refresh his memory.

Neil grumbles, but lets her help him into the chair. He has on his good lounge pants, without holes, and his old Palmetto sweater. "I told you years ago I hate being called that."

"Because it makes you feel old," she jabs, teasing lightly. Even still, she's gentle when she places the blanket over his lap and hands him his glasses. "I have to keep you in line somehow."

"Ha-ha."

As she wheels him out of his room, he starts fidgeting again. He's used to exploring the luxury nursing home on his own time, not because he has somewhere to be. He hasn't had somewhere to be since...well, he hates thinking about that, lest he run into a memory that hurts more than helps.

Today isn't the day for that.

Some other, more able-bodied residents pass by him on foot, waving amicably and knowing better than to expect a wave back. Shockingly, he's well liked here, probably because he doesn't have rowdy grandkids who break the peace. Plus, he's pretty sure some of them are old fans.

Sydney leans down as they pass through the common area and into one of the meeting rooms, the spotless linoleum floor throwing him off as usual. He never would've picked a place so expensive and fancy for himself, but Andrew was always someone with classy tastes. "Ready for today?"

At the reminder, Neil wrings his fingers together. Not advised by his doctor, but fuck that guy. "As ready as I'll ever be," he says, glaring at the glass doors ahead. Sydney laughs, placing him at the end of a large table. The meeting room creeps him out, since it's mostly used for family meetings or will planning appointments. Sound proof, silent.

"Oh hush, you're a famous athlete, I'm sure you've faced worse," she chides, pouring him a glass of water without any ice. Because he's a fiend. Neil rolls his eyes; she has no idea. He's threatened countless reporters before for stepping even a toe out of line, but some recent college grads from an indie publication are making him sweat more than an Exy game. Sydney makes a show of whispering behind her hand. "Besides, I heard from Gabe at the front desk they look terrified, so go easy on them, yes? Can't have another cafeteria incident."

Ugh, not that again.

"You have no witnesses," he waves off, leaning back in his seat while Sydney sets the break in place. Only then is he hit with a wave of calm, fondness even. His quivering hands curl as best they can in the blanket, the ghost of a grip, and he smiles out across the room. Ah, he can't be doing this already, but it's hard to help. He itches for the smell of a cigarette, a press on the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries his best to feel it. "Besides, once they know why they're really here they won't be nearly so stressed. Hell, they might even be disappointed."

He tries not to grimace at that, but for the time he's giving them and the paperwork he made them sign, they're going to sit and listen to his old man ravings all day or so help him--

He feels a hand brush against his, and when he looks Sydney is there. She squeezes his fingers in hers, smile fond and weighed down with a sadness so foreign, he nearly regrets telling her to cut it out. But no, he understands. He's the one who understands the most. She grazes the fabric of the blanket as she pulls away, breathing in the same smoke he can for just a moment. "No, I don't think that's possible."

She doesn't give Neil time to doubt himself, not that he could. He can never doubt anything when it comes to Andrew, no matter how much the blond secretly doubted about himself. Neil always teased him for that, and his living oxymoron ways.

Neil's biggest goal of the day is to piss off Andrew's ghost as much as humanly possible, and his grin is nearly splitting at the thought. Fine, mission active.

"Good luck!" Sydney calls as she leaves the meeting room, and he watches her gesture to his guests once they arrive through the glass doors.

Oh shit, they really do look terrified.

The two interviewers see him through the door and Neil can only assume they shit a brick. They're young, can't be more than a few years out of university, dressed way too professionally for someone as uncaring as Neil. They could've shown up in clown costumes for all he cared, at least he would've gotten a good laugh.

The young man fumbles with the door and his companion rushes forward a little too fast before correcting herself. Jeez.

Neil does his best to hide his laugh, not that he's ever been polite. It's more...

Their terror is Neil's fault. He started declining interviews soon after he retired, letting his name and lifestyle fade into mystery and speculation with the public. Kevin had not been happy about it, since to this day he and Thea are in the public eye, commentating on Exy games, doing talk shows, helping curate museums, blah, blah, blah...

Neil didn't have time for that.

He never thought he'd be okay with slipping back into unknown status after so many years of being seen, being cheered for, but when the time came it was an easy choice. Andrew made it so. Neil had his time to be free, to do whatever he wanted and play the sport he loved. But ultimately, when he no longer could, fucking off to do whatever he wanted with Andrew sounded way better than dealing with reporters and overzealous fans.

Just because he became an unknown though, doesn't mean he faded into obscurity. According to Allison, his life has been quite a hot button issue in the community for over a decade. People want to know where he's been, what he did during those years, how he looks back on the past, everything. It's been obnoxious.

Popular sports magazines and large publications have practically been clawing for a piece of him for years, and he's never given in no matter how many fruit bouquets they sent or how many checks they tried to write him. Though, one almost got him purely because they kept sending gourmet chocolates, and if Andrew was a glutton before, old age only made it worse.

So, Neil Josten is back to being a subject of interest for some reason, someone people want to know everything about. For him to randomly call up a dying indie magazine and offer them full rights to an interview under his specific terms surely threw the sports world into a fucking whirl.

Whatever.

He's going to share what he wants to share. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Mr. Jo--" The first reporter clears his throat, passing his notepad and phone over to his other hand before outstretching one to Neil. "Mr. Josten. It's such an honor to meet you, um, wow. I'm Blake, and this is Rayah. We're so grateful for being granted the opportunity to interview you. You're a legend!"

Neil stares at the outstretched hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, and as much as he does know what's expected of him, part of his hesitation is equal parts his disinterest and the fact he doesn't talk to anyone but his remaining family these days. Well, and Sydney.

Blake swallows and drops his hand, surely admonishing himself for his own stupidity.

Rayah saves him. "Um, we really are appreciative, sir," she says, laying out some notepads and setting up her recorder. Old school, Neil appreciates it. It's better than cameras and microphones. "We're still in shock honestly. We were theorizing on why you picked us the entire drive up here!"

"Neil is fine, and don't bother with small talk I know it's not why you're here," he says then, smiling at her words. They both flinch, taken aback. He's not sure why they'd be expecting a Kevin Day type. He has a record for being too blunt and argumentative for his own good. He's right though; they're here for answers, not discussions on how he's doing or what he does for fun in his not so humble nursing home. In much the same vein, he promised honesty, so he'll give it from the start. "I picked you precisely because you're unknown and failing."

They freeze, but they're clearly not Foxes. If they were, they'd immediately get indignant and glare, hold themselves back from punching a helpless old man. Oh, those were the good ol' days.

When Rayah fumbles for a response, a logic, Neil simply shrugs. "I like the underdogs."

He doesn't intend it to be, but it's a tension breaker. The stiffness in the reporters' shoulders deflate with a laugh, and they finally get back to organizing themselves without looking like they want to run for the hills and beg ESPN to take over.

"As your history suggests," Blake jokes, and Neil rewards him with a grin, tapping his Foxes pin.

He doesn't mention the fact Andrew would've never spoken to him had he gone to some trashy magazine, and that Andrew was always a bit of a rebel himself, though he hated to admit to any kind of urge that didn't involve Neil, sweets, or fancy cars.

Neil takes the free moment to wrap his blanket around his shoulders, letting the ingrained smell of ash permeate around him. Much better, he can think so much clearer like this.

As they finish setting up and take their seats across from him, Blake taps his pencil against the rim of his notepad. It looks like he almost wants to launch back into small talk, but thinks better of it when he remembers Neil's words. Considerate, a good listener. Just what Neil needs today.

Blake clears his throat, cutting through the bullshit. "Now, we know you have specific terms for how you want to lead this interview, which we're completely fine with. Wherever you want to start, we'll follow."

And with that, they sit back, unsure but ready to catch whatever morsel of information might fall from Neil's lips. Again, he finds himself fighting a smirk.

Of course, he led these people astray a bit, but he doesn't see the problem with having a little fun before revealing his true intentions.

He nods, pushing down the giddy feeling that always comes with talking about Andrew. Not yet, but soon.

"Hm, I assume you prepared some questions just in case," Neil asks, taking a sip of his water.

Rayah blinks, exchanging a look with Blake. She rifles through her notepad to a page in the middle, scribbled and stained with ink. There are so many questions on it, some of them curve over the others in a painful word twister. "Uh yes but, we didn't think you'd want to answer them," she guesses.

She's correct.

Neil loathes interview questions, because they're predictable. But in this case, he'll let the first one lead him down the road.

Neil relents, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Well you're mostly right, but why don't you ask me your first one?" He offers, and they look positively ecstatic. "That'll get me started."

And once he starts, he doubts he'll be able to stop.

"Sure." Blake clears his throat, making sure his recorder is functioning properly. When he's satisfied, he leans back, mirroring Neil's posture, though the rigidity is still there. If he doesn't lighten up, he's going to have back pains for days. "Now, there have been a lot of milestones in your career as a pro athlete. No one would dream of disputing your skill in the sport, or how you earned any of your countless awards--"

"Flattery," Neil warns, raising a single finger. That's not what he's here for either. In fact, as much as this is his interview, it's not about him at all.

"Right," Blake says with a huff of a laugh. "But surely one of your brightest moments was your historic win at the Olympics. It was talked about for months within the community. Of course, any true Exy fan knows the details of the game, it was only covered by every major publication. So, I guess our question is, what do you most remember about that moment? Was it as monumental for you as it was for Exy fans?"

Ah, a predictable question, but also not a bad place to begin. Neil doesn't fight the edge of the smirk that appears, though he does raise his thumb to swipe at it. It's been a while since he's felt so mischievous, it's so difficult to be, well, difficult when you're being wheeled around all day.

It was a monumental moment for him, though maybe not for the reasons everyone else would think.

"You certainly did your research," he comments, humming as he sits back in thought. He already knows his answer, but he's weak, and the feelings the memory evokes barely need to push him to send him careening off balance. Swept up. "Not sure what I was expecting from people so young, but my apologies for making assumptions."

He's glad they didn't ask the question in the stereotypical format, fishing for ways to brag and make it all about him. When he thinks of that time, as proud as he was, it's not his own praise that comes to mind.

With that in mind, Neil sighs.

"I don't think it was an exaggeration to say that was one of the best days of my life," he admits, and it's the truth. He's not here to lie. Come to think of it, he hasn't lied once since Andrew ran on ahead of him. Smiling, Neil lets the words flow.

"It was important to me, but not all because of the Olympics themselves..."

Neil rarely has time to pay attention in Exy games, as horrible and inefficient as that sounds.

His feet move on their own accord like a well-oiled machine, cogs and steam rushing through him to propel him across the court at record speeds. And they are record speeds.

That's why he's here isn't it? To run, to score.

It had been overwhelming when he first arrived, the sheer size of the Exy court at the Olympics. It's surrounded by flags from all over the world, bright neon signs and sponsorships. The lights at the entrance had been so vibrant, he made the mistake of looking up at them.

Blinding.

All aspects about it are, because as much as Neil knows this is his life, it can't possibly be reality.

The crowd makes the one at the Ravens' stadium seem minuscule, out of its league with seats and aisles that almost climb up to the heavens. The crowd roars and Neil feels every cheer and stomp echo against his bones.

He never thought he'd be here, but despite the gravity of it, he no longer has the time nor want to dwell on it. All that matters is his team, and getting them the gold.

Being with Andrew afterwards...getting to see Wymack smile proudly at Kevin.

Letting Kevin be proud of himself.

And Neil is an Olympic-qualified player, so with all that in mind, he delivers the second best game of his life. Even in the final seconds of the second half, even when he's been body checked so many times the nuts and bolts he imagines inside him must surely be worn and off-kilter, he doesn't stop moving. Everything is instinct, from the force of his steps to the last minute shifts he needs to intercept the ball.

It's not Kevin's perfect strategy, it's not a map or an out of body experience where he can see where every player on the court is.

He has no idea what's going on outside of what's in front of him, no awareness of anything but the immediate threats and a certain beacon, standing in the goal.

And that's the hardest part of it all, not being able to look over at Andrew for even a moment after he scores, because the game is fast and ruthless, and he has twice the energy of anyone on this court.

It's a stupid way to play, if he's really supposed to be Kevin's double. But they all long since established he is far from it. He has his own passion, his own drive, and Kevin trusts Neil with his life on the court.

Probably through anything.

So when he sees the perfect opportunity for a final interception, a chance to get them the last winning goal of the game, he's surprised that it's the one moment where it all comes to a stop. He's never had the experience before; normally his body snaps into action. He's not used to comprehending things until they're said and done.

He thinks his body is still following through though, turning in just the right way, making sure he's lined up.

But Neil is aware of so much more, his eyes train like a predator's on the goal, and he understands. He has a choice.

Choices are a weird luxury now, but he's gotten so used to having the freedom of them, he's forgotten the sheer magnitude they can carry.

His eyes snap to the goal, and then to Kevin. Kevin, who is so much closer, and already looking right at Neil.

And Neil never describes himself as fond towards most people, but he can say it proudly in that moment. This is the Kevin Day he likes to see.

Green eyes stare back, blown wide with a fire that can't be matched by anyone, probably not even his own mother, maybe not even Neil. A true, unadulterated love for this violent, freeing sport. Kevin catches Neil's eyes through his face guard, forehead drenched in sweat but his entire being rings with energy, ready and unwilling to quit until the buzzer sounds.

A Fox, at heart. Neil knows Andrew can see from where he's standing in goal, and Neil knows he's just as satisfied, deep down. It might give him some peace of mind too, to know Kevin kept his spine.

Neil puts all of those emotions into his last movement of the game.

He inclines his head just so, and that's it.

Kevin moves.

As Neil's racquet intercepts the ball from the other team's striker, he can't help but be a bit smug as he takes a powerful step forward. He can hear the painful slide of his shoes against the court floor, the heat of being too close, too exposed.

His legs will surely be shot after this, but no matter.

Kevin Day was always meant to be the greatest player in the history of Exy, the reigning queen, despite the arrogance they'll surely have to hear non-stop about. Fine. It's only fair that Neil help him achieve that goal here, at the biggest stadium in the world.

(By no means the best one, but still).

The clock gets down to five seconds, the beats resounding off the walls of his skull. Neil swings his racquet with such force the strings whistle, and the ball moves in a straight line directly into Kevin's. The other striker has zero time to react, the force of Neil's brutal cut off sending him stumbling. The ball hits Kevin's strings hard, Kevin's grip tightening around his racquet to keep it close to him.

Kevin doesn't hesitate longer than that.

He shoots at the goal in one fluid arch, and scores.

As confident as Neil is in Kevin's aim and skill, he'll admit his stomach swoops. It's a feeling that never truly goes away, much like the instincts that keep him moving. He wouldn't trade it for anything, that millisecond exhilaration before it comes together.

Because well, at one point nothing ever fell into place for him.

In the flash where the ball hits the net, Neil feels the ghost of a key in his palm, reminding him when that changed. The buzzer of the countdown blares, and all that anticipation meets a well-deserved end.

The stadium erupts until not even the buzzer can be heard. There's a swish of plexiglass doors, the sounds of their coach yelling in triumph, but Neil's body is too spent to react.

Neil's heart constricts in his chest as he tries to get air in, but it's impossible. Satisfied doesn't even begin to cover it, though he's sure he looks just as breathless as Kevin does, staring at the goal as it lights up. The world moves around him, respecting his moment of privacy when they should be hoisting him up and not allowing him a minute of disbelief. Neil's glad they don't; Kevin deserves to look surprised once in a while.

His teammates pile on each other, clapping him as they pass. A lot of them are still in shock, a few fall to their knees right away, but Neil feels nothing but fulfilled.

He made the right call.

His body sags, stinging, and he feels Andrew's gaze pinning him upright from across the court. It's the only thing that gets him walking, but he wills himself not to look in his boyfriend's direction.

If he does well...nothing else will matter, and there's one thing he has to do.

In a haze, he goes over to Kevin, who turns, sensing him. Neil shakes his head at Kevin's arrogance to this day, because even though Kevin is the one who made this possible for him, who came to him first...

Well, he still lets Neil do all the work. Neil laughs and hugs Kevin fiercely, barely keeping himself upright, and they trade the trembling in their bodies. Kevin drops his racquet, their height difference making them look all the more pathetic. He can hear Andrew's voice already, telling them they're too emotional about a damn sport.

Somehow, that makes Neil even happier, and he leans back as Kevin pries his helmet off, eyes wild and smiling.

Yes, the right choice. Absolutely.

"We did it," Kevin says, but not in disbelief. He had to have known they'd always make it here. "We did it."

Neil squeezes his friend's shoulder and grins, uncaring of what camera catches it. He's too damn happy to care. "Guess we did."

The crowd cheers so loud Neil can't hear more than a faint buzz in his ears, and the sticky scent of gatorade and sweat is an unfortunate addition. The cameras flash and shine obnoxiously through the double plexiglass to bathe them in light and attention.

Yet, with his legs feeling like jelly and his muscles stretched to the limits, there's only one thing he really wants. What he always wants.

Warmth, safety, something to lean on and keep him sheltered from the world before facing it alongside him. Neil hates that before, the only thing he yearned for was to play Exy. He thought that was bad.

This is so much worse.

Biting his lip, Neil turns to where Andrew is standing in the goal, already looking at him from across the court. And Andrew, with all his control, keeps himself planted there. Neil's breathing hiccups loudly, and Kevin's probably the only one who hears it over the cacophony.

Neil doesn't think he can cry anymore, but his eyes tighten up, he has to blink the pain away.

Neil wonders if Andrew's gripping his racquet hard enough to damage it, if he's digging his heels into the ground like Neil is.

Neil swallows down the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he hates the cameras more than usual; he's torn between wanting them to vanish completely, or wishing they paid as much attention to Andrew, because god, he's earned it.

Neil digs his heels in harder.

I want to be with you.

It's such a simple string of thought; it has crossed his mind so many times before, but never has the urge hurt so much. It has nothing to do with all he's worked for, with the fame and recognition this win will bring him. It's just Andrew.

He hasn't had a knife to his skin in years, but this reminds him of the piercing of flesh, lighting his nerves on end and sending him towards the source of his relief, his contentment.

Andrew played so well, so well, not just here. He worked his way through the pros until he got to Neil, worked his ass off for his reputation. He qualified with the rest of them to be here.

And tonight, he blocked almost every shot at his goal.

Neil closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down but he can't. This is one of the best moments of his life. If he can't share it with Andrew to the fullest, what was the point of everything in his past?

They're not out. That's the problem, he knows, as much as he doesn't give a single fuck. No one outside their family and management knows anything about them, apart from some tabloid rumors about their intense dislike of one another. If that doesn't prove how clueless the media is, Neil doesn't know what does.

And as much as they value privacy, as much as their peaceful bubble is enough, it's moments like these where Neil wants to take and show no matter the consequences.

He looks to Kevin, unsure. It's always been him, the one who warned them about the backlash they'd face despite his acceptance of their relationship years ago.

Neil expects the same thing here: the subtle shake of Kevin's head, the concern in his eyes for their careers and future. It used to piss Neil off to no end, but Kevin communicates all emotion through Exy, even concern. Neil's learned to read between those infuriating lines. The importance of career translates to 'without your career, there is no you.' Sometimes he forgets he's not entirely free.

And if he weren't around, then Andrew...

'You can't leave him.'

And so, knowing Kevin's language, Neil stayed in line, and he expects that same advice today. To his surprise though, it never comes. Kevin is looking at him, tired smile firmly in place as he nudges a shoulder in Andrew's direction. Neil's mouth falls open, and yes, he's convinced now. It's a dream, it's all one big dream. Except--

Kevin shakes his head. It's not resigned, or worried. He's just happy for them both. He pushes Neil away, straightening his back in preparation for his fans. Royal snob. "Go on already. You guys are gross."

And despite the laugh that falls from his mouth, Neil's breathing stutters, and he hadn't realized how wound up he truly was until it happens. His lungs fill with air and he throws his racquet to the ground. His self-control is poor, they all know that. Encouragement is all he needs to break him and send him where he belongs.

He takes off in a full sprint towards Andrew as the rest of his teammates crowd Kevin, looking after Neil in confusion.

Huh, so his muscles still work after all. The tendons are on fire, but it's the least of his concerns. He runs like his life depends on it again, faster than he ran during that whole game.

And to Neil's absolute delight, Andrew's body language screams 'finally.'

The blond takes a step forward, throwing his racquet to the side like it's worthless. Oh. Andrew's bracing to catch him, and Neil laughs at the realization as he throws off his helmet. One day he'll actually make Andrew fall over, but for now he enjoys the strength.

He jumps into Andrew's arms effortlessly, feels calloused hands wrap around his waist as Neil reaches for the clips of Andrew's helmet. Despite knowing the barrier is there as he fumbles with it, he leans forward, lips grazing the metal guard. Andrew huffs, and Neil claws until the helmet clatters to the floor. He throws it a bit far, and it hits the goal post with a clang, but he doesn't care in the moment. If all eyes are on them now, he can't feel them. They're in a vacuum, a side effect of being so taken with Andrew at times. Unaware, vulnerable. The rush of sound from before goes dead around them. His fingertips can feel overheated skin, can trace the barely-there freckles on Andrew's face.

Andrew isn't in the mood to let Neil admire today.

Neil barely gets to see the color in Andrew's eyes before the goalie's hand grips in between Neil's shoulder blades, pulling him down.

It reminds him of their first kiss; Neil catches Andrew's lips and, as if not believing they're real, that something could feel so wonderful, he pulls back. His eyes widen, the first hit of a drug. He breaks the kiss only to dive right back in, uncoordinated but so sure of himself. And he doesn't get how, but Andrew smells the same as back then. Less like cigarettes, but the same smell of leather and earthiness. Neil doesn't read nearly as much as Andrew does to have the capability of describing it, but it's refreshing, like soil after the rain. Through the sweat and exhaustion, Neil would know him anywhere.

Andrew opens his mouth for him first, breath hot but movements predictable. Neil will tease him later for that. You're getting old. Because the dance is so familiar, the way Andrew pushes Neil's tongue back first. 'Come and get me.'

Neil obliges every single time, because he can't back down from a challenge, and maybe he's getting old too.

Neil knows the kiss can't last forever, especially not here, but he allows himself to pretend it's not the case. Andrew hums into him, and Neil's hands feel all the vibrations from where his hand slips down to Andrew's throat. It's bared completely for him, and Neil gives a little squeeze.

He sighs into Andrew's mouth when his boyfriend's eyes open to glare at him, pulling back before kissing Neil again, and then one more time, and maybe just once...

One more, Neil thinks, brushing his lips against Andrew's so lightly they stick for a moment, and he licks his own slowly when he pulls back for the final time. His heart beats in his ribcage, or maybe that's the pounding of the reporters' feet as they rush through the stadium, he's not sure.

Again, it's always best for him to not look at Andrew if he's supposed to be doing something else, because in that moment, the blond has all Neil's attention.

They're already pressed chest to chest, but Andrew squeezes tighter, almost painful, keeping Neil there through the flashing of cameras and shocked cheers.

And while Andrew's expression gives nothing away for the public, it speaks volumes to Neil.

Neil didn't know what old meant back then, now that his legs give out after a good walk or his spine aches under the weight of nothing.

But they were predictable, that much was true.

Neil isn't looking at the reporters anymore, too focused on trying to weave the fraying threads of the blanket back into place. From their silence, he can guess they're as shocked as he expected them to be.

Unaffected, Neil reaches over for his water, taking a sip as he confronts their slack jaws and wide eyes.

Now, that might have been a bit unfair of him as well, to jump into such a blatant romantic recollection about Andrew. Again, Neil never took interviews, rarely took questions, but the subject of his relationship with Andrew was especially off limits for decades. What they had was theirs, and only theirs, even after outing themselves that day.

People naturally tried to pry, tried to dig up their past in hopes of justifying what they saw as a nonsensical relationship or gossip fuel.

Neil made them fear for their lives after that.

He eviscerated publications, reporters, top sports officials, talk shows hosts, pretty much whoever he needed to. Anything to keep Andrew's name out of their mouths. A lot of them sealed their place in the land of irrelevancy, media outlets were slammed by a combination of their fans, and Kevin's too, once he stood up in support.

Andrew always hated it, Neil's desperate need to protect him from words that no longer phased him, but Neil didn't care. It was one of the only things they fought about in their adult years.

It worked though; soon, all the major outlets aside from the tabloids stopped talking about it, knowing mentioning it in any way that wasn't positive or neutral would land them in a ton of hot water.

Even those online sources who refused to let up eventually fizzed out from lack of material; they tried their best to be nosy, but pretty much got nothing but some rare paparazzi photos a few times a year of them kissing in the park or on a date.

In short, it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you don't talk to Neil Josten about Andrew Minyard unless you have nothing but good things to say, and a lot of people are too chicken shit to take the risk and potentially insult him. That's the only disappointing thing, none of them have a shred of courage. Neil really would talk all day about Andrew if people just approached it correctly.

Not that Andrew would've allowed it when he was alive.

Take that.

Despite all the fear Neil instilled in the media, it never stopped the other famous Foxes from talking about how gooey and devoted he and Andrew were, but Neil let that slide.

The things he does for family.

So it makes sense that these reporters seemed to have forgotten Andrew's importance at all, another offense. Not just because he was the best goalie in Exy history, but because Neil was first and foremost, Andrew's.

Blake's mouth opens and closes, pen dangling precariously from his hand. "Are...are we allowed to ask about Andrew?"

Blake even flinches after he asks it, afraid that perhaps it's only okay for Neil to bring up.

If you only knew.

Neil laughs, too relaxed to hold back anymore. The reporters stare, exchanging nervous glances with excitement tingling below the surface.

Yes, he supposes details about his relationship with Andrew are more secretive and sought after than even Neil's opinions. The reporters weren't even going to try.

But now, there's morsels of information dangling in front of them, and Neil need only give them permission. It's their lucky day.

Neil's smile fades into something gentler, wistful. It's the closest he gets now, to how he looked at Andrew. But it's still different, because that expression...

Well, Andrew is gone. What more is there to say?

Neil leans back, wringing his hands softly. "I guess it's only fair that I tell you the real reason I accepted this interview."

The reporters lean forward, holding their breath, but Neil doesn't feel like making them wait. It's all about Andrew now, like he wanted it to be. "I want to talk about Andrew, plain and simple."

Except when it's not.

Their relationship was anything but simple but Neil cherished each memory, and he wants to speak them aloud so no one forgets. He wants everyone to know how important this person was to him, so when he's gone and can't defend them, people can't speculate or taint it with their unasked for opinions.

"I've never had the opportunity to really reminisce about Andrew, not even with my family," Neil admits. He and Aaron and Katelyn would sit around the fireplace at their home sometimes, telling stories, or Kevin would send him old pictures or clips of Andrew playing. But never the intimate details, never the raw, and at times complicated feelings. "It never felt right, even after he was gone. I wanted to keep it close still, so I wouldn't betray Andrew's trust."

Neil takes a deep breath, and it shakes his small frame, a cough escaping his lungs. His voice is rough, but no less sure when he continues. "But I know now what he'd say to that. That I couldn't, even if my dumb Exy brain tried really hard."

But he'd never.

He smiles, wiping his eyes when they aren't even wet. That's another thing he misunderstood back then. Neil thought he couldn't cry, but he's sure today he'll prove his younger self wrong.

Rayah and Blake stay silent through all of Neil's pauses, and the respect means more than he can say. Andrew would approve, he'd be okay with Neil's choice. That's what matters most, he thinks.

"For once I just want everyone to know how I felt, I want to tell you everything as I saw and felt it, so you can tell everyone else," Neil says, and hopes they can read between the lines for the rest. Ultimately, when he's dead he'll be nothing but bones in the dirt, his legacy won't mean much in the long run. But...if nothing else, he wants this to remain, for as long as it can.

He never cared before about it, but he guesses age really can put a new perspective on things. Neil sighs, and taps the table with his finger for lack of anything better to do. When he looks back up, he has their undivided attention, Rayah's brown eyes shining with unshed emotion. None of that, not yet. "Anyways, now that you know I misled you, I hope you're still alright with listening to me ramble for the next few hours."

If not, they can kindly fuck off, but Neil has his suspicions at this point that they'll stick around. As much as Neil prides himself on reading people's intentions well, he's quite horrible at reading people's feelings. But maybe he's improved in that arena too.

A price for everything, he thinks ruefully, reminding himself there's a break in between this session for him to take his pain pills.

Eventually, it's Rayah who stutters a response. "Of course it's alright! We're so honored! And not just in the...bullshit way."

She closes her mouth immediately after at the unprofessionalism of it, but it only makes Neil feel more at ease. He smirks, satisfied. "Noted."

"Mr. Jo--Neil, we really are happy to write about you and Andrew but I have to admit," Blake says, flipping through his notepad with a tight look on his face. "The questions we did prepare as backup don't exactly lend themselves to anything about your life with Andrew."

It's precisely why Neil stated he'd mostly be doing the talking initially, but their first test question actually did end up helping move him along, so...

Neil shrugs, gesturing to the notebook with fierce determination.

These people are about to learn...

He can make anything about Andrew.

When he smiles at the two of them again, they must feel it deep down. They return it tenfold, and then Rayah clicks her pen.

And with the pleasantries out of the way, Neil opens up to everything he's been keeping locked away.

"Try me."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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fallingin-like · 5 years

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aftg fanfic review masterlist

(aka my nanowrimo 2019)

i’m super excited to say here are the fics that i will be reviewing for november so far! feel free to read through these and comment on them with me! thank you so much to everyone who responded to my post and requested fics~

*edit: i removed a fic because i forgot to check the tags/TWs before and when i did look, i didn't feel comfortable with the content. sorry!*

1. atlas by @purearcticfire / @pipedream-truths

a magic au that features shapeshifters and a cursed neil, so immediately you know i’ll like it. this fic has some cool uses of italics, caps, spacing, etc. that creates a stylized story that helps build tone and gives the story a clearer voice. this was such a fun read and it gets very intense. this fic is incomplete.