#(nicky laughing from somewhere aaron won’t be able to see him)

[ashestoashes7]

Neil is used to switching up his handwriting to avoid it being recognizable, and he has mimicked the way different people write their letters so he can always switch it up more. This means he is completely capable of forging any of the Foxes’ handwriting or signature, and he is all too happy to use that fact for evil.

[jemej3m]

ghosts

this was unprompted but i dont care. all yall want is the wedding and i need an angst pallet cleanser before i can keep going with that. it’s so soft and sweet. blurgh, gross ;D

anyway!

remember in the first part, when neil said that drake spear’s case would forever remain unsolved? 

yeah. this is that.

trigger warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault, i/r torture, i/r csa, i/r self harm/suicide attempts, i/r murder

(normal pre-marital problems, i assume)

*

Neil traversed their kitchen as he threw together a curry Renee had recommended, whistling very poorly with the TV on in the background. An Exy game was always playing, much to Andrew’s dismay. 

They’d been living together for about a year and a half, and engaged for nearly a week now. Neil thought he couldn’t possibly get any happier, which was odd and unfamiliar in his tragic life. As he rinsed the starch off the rice and threw it into the rice cooker (gifted to him by Allison because once he’d served her undercooked, burnt rice and she’d never forgiven him since) he heard the front door unlock and twist open, the familiar shuffle of his fiancé arriving home making Neil smile. 

That sentiment was lost when he turned around to greet him. 

“Andrew,” Neil managed, watching Andrew fall onto the couch. He looked at the television, eyes so distant that they couldn’t register Neil even as he crouched down in front of him. “Andrew?”

His hands were shaking, curled into fists by his sides. Neil had never seen his skin so pale and lifeless. 

“Andrew,” he continued. “Can i sit next to you?” When he didn’t answer, Neil slowly moved to sit on the couch, giving him enough time to shove him back. Neil kept at least a centimetre between them at every point. 

“I’m making dinner,” he said, trying to think of something mundane to draw him out of his head. “Curry, one of Renee’s. You said you tried it and liked it. It has lamb, and I've snuck in some peas, but the sauce tastes good enough that we should be able to ignore them.” His fists relaxed slightly, the longer Neil talked. “You remember that cat shelter that I said was a front? Well, it’s still a cat shelter. Maybe we could check it out, see if there are any hairless ones. I know you like the hairless ones.” 

Andrew reached out for Neil’s hand and closed his eyes. His thumb traced the scars on Neil’s skin. The pattern was familiar and comforting for Andrew: Neil sighed with relief. 

“I’ve got those off-brand icecream sticks you love,” Neil continued, leaning in closer. “There was only one box left that weren’t those coconut-raspberry ones. Pure chocolate, just for you. Maybe we could dip them in sprinkles.” 

Andrew hummed softly. 

“Hey,” Neil said under his breath, leaning closer. He never asked if Andrew was okay, if he was alright, how his day went: not when he was like this. Asking a question meant requiring an answer, and providing a template meant forcing a restricted response. Andrew didn’t need to give Neil falsities. They were past that.

“Drake is being let out on parole.” 

Drake fucking Spear. 

Andrew told Neil the story a year into dating. He was in college, with his cousin and his brother. They’d moved to South Carolina, lived under Betsy’s roof as a reprieve from their biological family, and then congregated at their local college. All was fine until Andrew’s foster-home past caught up with him, the last time they’d gone to visit Nicky’s mother and father. 

Drake had been waiting for Andrew in Nicky’s old bedroom. It was safe to say that when Nicky and Aaron found them, it wasn’t pretty. Andrew had intentionally fucked with his biological mother’s car when he figured out she was treating Aaron like shit: in return, Aaron had wrenched Drake (a marine seal) off his brother and kicked the life out of him. 

Only he didn’t die. He went to jail. Aaron went to trail and claimed self-defence on his brother’s behalf. Everything was meant to be fine. 

Eight years later, Andrew was here, sitting on the couch as he reminisced upon horrid memory after horrid memory, knowing that his old demon was loose once more. 

“I’ll kill him.” Neil murmured. 

Andrew finally looked at him. “Neil.” 

He looked up. “I would kill him a thousand times over, Andrew.” 

Andrew said nothing, his head falling to rest on Neil’s shoulder. By the amount of tension coiled in Andrew’s shoulders, he must have been holding this in all day. 

Neil set his jaw, unwillingly to lie to himself. He was going to commit a self-serving, premeditated murder. 

His father would be so proud. 

*

When it finally happened, Andrew was coming home from dinner at Nicky and Erik’s. Neil was still working, somewhere in the depths of the city, but it was fine. Andrew had been able to distract himself from the weight pressing on his shoulders for a few hours with his cousin. 

A whole month since Drake - no, Spear - had been out on parole, and Andrew hadn’t heard a peep. For a while Andrew had thought that perhaps Spear would go to Aaron instead, the man who’d bashed him but not good enough to avoid jail, but Aaron had heard nothing. Chicago was way too far from South Carolina, where he’d been held for his crimes. 

But Baltimore wasn’t.

He unlocked his front door and felt the way it was loose, too loose, observing the scratches on the bolt’s screws. Andrew grit his teeth, pulling out the knife from his armband and wishing he’d brought home his gun, to swing the door open. 

As expected, the apartment was dark. But not empty. 

“Evening, AJ.” 

“Isn’t this dramatic,” Andrew insisted, though his insides were twisted with fear. Don’t lock up. Don’t lock up. Don’t -

“I was waiting for you. I’ve missed you.” 

Andrew punched the lightswitch hard enough for the wall to buckle: it held, and instead revealed something worse than Drake and his sneer. 

Neil was bound to a dining chair with cuffs Andrew kept, just in case, a tie around his mouth. He looked incredibly woozy. Andrew wanted so desperately to go to him, but Spear himself was sat on the arm of their new couch, elbows braced on his knees. Andrew hated his slick grin and his knowing smile and his soulless fucking eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d almost killed himself over this man, thinking at least he would die knowing what a mother’s love felt like. 

A mother’s love shouldn’t have cost Andrew a thing, let alone nearly everything. Those scars on his arms were warped with time and a long journey to healing, and Drake wasn’t going to take that away from him again. 

“You learned a few tricks in prison,” Andrew acknowledged. 

“You snatched yourself a husband-to-be,” Drake sneered. “How cute. I knew you’d liked it all along.” 

Andrew’s hand twitched. “You’re in violation of your parole, Drake. I’m going to arrest you.” 

“You’re a cop?” Drake spat out a laugh. It was guttural and wrong. Neil winced. “Well, ain’t that just funny.” 

“Funny how I, the boy who’d had nothing and was still taken from, ended up with a fulfilling life, finding family and friends and a purposeful occupation, whilst you, a boy who’d had everything and more, took your life for granted and ended up in the slammer for eight years, with more to come? Hilarious. I agree.” 

“I should’ve crushed your skull eight years ago,” Drake laughed. “No matter: I’ll make up for it now.” 

Neil met Andrew’s eyes as his hands fiddled with the cuffs. Keep talking. 

 “Why, Drake?” Andrew’s voice cracked. “You had Cass. School. Friends. Everyone liked you. What drove you to ruin your own life?” 

“I did have everything I could’ve ever needed,” he said, teeth oily as he grinned. “But what I wanted was something I couldn’t have. Till it occurred to me that I didn’t need to have it. I just needed to take it.” He sneered, putting his hands to the arm of the couch as he readied to stand. “Did it hurt you, little AJ? Because I hope it did. I always liked it best when you bled -” 

“Then I’ll make sure that you get what you’re owed, Drake Spear,” Neil said softly, balancing his knife between his fingertips. Its blade rested against Drake’s throat, Neil free of his cuffs and gag. 

The man froze. 

“Best practise is putting things away after you use them,” Neil advised, lifting a cloth to Drake’s mouth and nose. The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slumped over, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. 

Andrew sucked in a gasp of air, watching as Neil cuffed the man’s wrists behind his back and stood with a boot pressed to his neck, should he wake up. 

From under the couch, Neil drew out a large tarp and his knives. Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. By the time he’d opened them, the coffee table had been flipped as a make-shift torture device, the tarp covering the carpet beneath. Neil was testing the sharpness of his cleaver against the tip of his finger: satisfied, he turned around to look at Andrew. “Help me roll him?”

Andrew looked at the man, hollowed out. “I was going to take him in.“

“What good is that?” Neil demanded, throwing the cleaver back into his pile. “He’ll go back to jail for another four to six months for violation of his parole, unless he tries to -” Neil screwed his eyes shut. “No. No, I won’t let him touch you again. And if you suggest some sort of self-sacrificing bullshit to have him locked up for good, I won’t buy it.” 

“He won’t get out on parole again -” 

“That is not worth a fifteen year sentence that he’ll worm his way out of again, letting the cycle will just repeat itself. No, Andrew. He is never going to touch you again. He will never look at you again.” His fists shook with a quiet fury. “I won’t let it happen.” 

“Neil,” Andrew stepped forward. “You need to let me do my job.” 

His fiancé brandished a knife from god-knows-where. “You need to let me do mine! Leave if you must. If your morals put you above killing a horrid man to keep my family safe, then go. But this man is not leaving here alive and whole. I am not letting the man I love subject himself to ruination via an old demon.” He finally looked Andrew in the eye. “Not if I can help it.” 

Neil bent over to drag Drake’s unconscious body over to where he needed it, locking his ankles and wrists to the four metal legs of their coffee table. The chloroform wasn’t strong enough to keep him asleep for long, but it didn’t matter. He was secure and doomed by the time he blinked his eyes open. 

Andrew watched Neil spin a knife between his fingers. 

“Wh - “ Drake coughed. “What? What happened?” 

“Not much,” Neil said, lightly. “You merely threatened to maim and kill the man I love, right in front of me.” His smile was the most frightening thing about him. “I don’t like that.”

“No,” Drake struggled against his restraints. “No!” 

“For now, I’ll shove this in there,” Neil said, grabbing the tie. “But later I’ll be sure to sever your vocal chords, so you can try and fail to scream, just like you tried to keep him quiet for years. No gag required. Neat, right?” 

“AJ,” Drake panted. “Andrew, get this psycho away from me. AJ -!” 

Neil shoved the tie into Drake’s mouth. “No. Stop looking at him. Look at me. I’m your biggest problem right now, aren’t I?” 

“I’m going to the study,” Andrew muttered, lightheaded. Neil glanced up at him, so he nodded, so minutely that anyone but Neil would’ve missed it. 

Neil’s expression softened slightly around the eyes as clear understanding passed between them, bright as day. 

Thank you for doing what I couldn’t, Andrew said. 

Thank you for letting me, Neil returned. 

With a deep breath, Andrew turned away to put the kettle on as Neil got to work. 

*

WOW okay. twiiiiiisted. i did promise that this would all be fluffy and nice, didn’t I? well, oops. 

i hate drake enough to feel that its warranted tho. srry not srry. 

back to your regularly scheduled program a-next time! 

[xlady-saya]

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."

[forgetmenotaftg]

La Vie En Klosé

Nicky Hemmick huffed as he walked out of the gate at Berlin-Tegel after a rough Christmas at home. He was just ready to get back to his host family. The Stuttgart airport was never this crowded, so he tried his best to look confident and totally not lost as shit, and finally, with the help of the signs and his growing understanding of the German language, he made it out past the passport checks. Peering out over the crowd, Nicky saw a few people waiting around with signs and advertisements for taxis and rent-a-car services, but couldn’t spot either one of his host parents yet.

��Nicky!” he heard someone call. Nicky stood up on his tiptoes and saw who had to have been Erik Klosé standing by a shitty looking Burger King with a bouquet in his hand.

…And promptly tripped over a little girl’s bright pink suitcase.

As soon as he hit the ground, Erik was offering him a hand.

Nicky suddenly realized that he was staring. He’d seen pictures of Erik around the Klosé home, but wow. “Erik?”

“Hello, Nicky. These are for you.”

“Beautiful. I mean. They’re beautiful. The flowers,” Nicky stammered, taking the flowers and hugging them to his chest as Erik helped him up.

Erik grinned.“You’re telling me.”

-

Nicky and Erik shuffled their feet along the winding stone path ahead of them. The quiet there was almost unsettling–It felt like the only things in existence were the hundreds of lilies in the gardens around them, the two of them, and one word hanging in the air between them.

“So your parents aren’t okay with it?”

“No. In their eyes, I’m an abomination. They’re stuck perceiving the Bible the way they want to,” Nicky shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep himself as small and contained as he felt.

“They don’t deserve to claim the title of ‘Christian.’ You do know that, right?” Erik said, stopping mid-step and turning to Nicky.

“I know. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I didn’t say that it should.” Erik placed a finger under Nicky’s chin and directed his gaze upward so they could make eye contact. “But hiding hurts even more, doesn’t it?”

Nicky swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly, reaching up to wrap his hand around Erik’s wrist. Before he could force the words he wanted to say out of his chest, Erik spoke up.

“Me too.”

“You’re— “

When Erik kissed him, those petal-soft lips made Nicky bloom as excitedly as lilies around him, and for the first time in a long time, Nicky felt the sun again.

-

“Erik?”

“That’s your concerned voice,” Erik said, marking his place in his book and setting it down on the nightstand next to their bed. “What’s wrong, Love?”

“I never talked about him much, but…My cousin Aaron’s mother just died in a car accident. His…You know the long-lost twin thing. Andrew was with her. He survived.”

“Oh, Baby,” Erik whispered, motioning for Nicky to join him in bed. After his boyfriend crawled in next to him, Erik wrapped his arms around Nicky and kissed his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“They don’t have a mother anymore,” Nicky started, then paused. “They’re not old enough to be independent yet, either. That means that they’d go to—“

“Luther and Maria.” Erik knew what that meant, as much he didn’t want to acknowledge it. “You want to go take care of them, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Nicky sniffled, but then his voice broke. “I—”

“You know I will respect whatever decision you make. I will be beside you the entire way, if you’ll have me, Nicky. If you want to go, that is what you’ll do. I want to make this work, and if you do, too—”

“That isn’t fair to you, Erik,” Nicky shook his head.

“Nothing is ever fair. Not wholly. I love you, and I love your heart. I trust it. Right now, it belongs somewhere else. And as long as it can share,” Erik smiled. “I don’t mind. We’ll still make time for one another. We can visit on holidays. You should go. They need you. I can wait. I will.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Says the man who is uprooting his entire life to take care of family he hardly knows. No one deserves someone as selfless and bright as you.” Erik reached over Nicky and plucked a long stem of forget-me-nots from the arrangement beside their bed. He tucked the flowers behind Nicky’s ear and kissed the end of his nose. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

-

“Erik?”

“Any updates?”

“They found him. He’s alive. He…Well, he looks fucked, to be honest. But he’s alive, and he’s dating Andrew.”

“Holy shit.”

“I think Aaron almost had a grand mal seizure,” Nicky shook his head. “I think I actually did. Anyway. They’re with the feds working through everything. They want him to go into witness protection, but God knows we aren’t letting him go anywhere. And Andrew? I think he’d kill the next person that even looked at Neil for too long.”

“So it isn’t just physical? Andrew actually has feelings for someone?”

“Feelings might be an understatement,” Nicky teased. “He choked out Kevin over the fact that Neil was nowhere to be found.”

“That will make my next visit all the more entertaining, won’t it?”

“Speaking of, you’re still coming to the championship, right?”

“I got approved for time off and already booked the flight. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I love you,” Nicky sighed dreamily. He could almost see Erik smiling in the stands, now. “Today just—The way Neil looked at Andrew today, it was…The same way you look at me. It was like the day you first kissed me, when you saw me for the first time. It’s…I miss you, and—Today just made me realize how quickly things can change”

“I miss you too, Nicky. I love you so much.”

“I know. I love you, Erik. Be good. Don’t get into trouble.”

Unbeknownst to Nicky, Erik popped open the small box that held Nicky’s engagement ring in his hand and closed it again. It almost made him laugh to know that Nicky would hear the click when it shut but would have no idea what it was. “I’m always good.”

“One: Bullshit. Two: Bye, Honey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Love. Be safe.”

-

“Nicholas Esteban Hemmick, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Renee asked, closing the Bible in her hands with a soft look in her eyes.

“I do.”

“Do you have a ring for the groom?”

Neil smiled and pulled the simple platinum band out of his pocket before handing it to Nicky. Go get ‘em, he mouthed.

“Please repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“With this ring…” Nicky slid the ring onto Erik’s finger, a single happy tear running down his cheek. “I thee wed.”

“Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. By the power invested in me by the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you to be married. Erik, you may kiss your husband.”

Only Matt and Dan’s catcalls managed to pull the two of them apart.

“You’re insatiable,” Nicky laughed breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck and pressing their noses together.

“What can I say? Mr. Klosé looks good on you.”

Before Nicky could speak, Erik pulled him in again.

-

“He’s smaller than I thought he would be.”

“Wyatt is just a baby, Love,” Erik chuckled, leaning over to rest his chin on his husband’s shoulder. “They’re small.”

“He was just born so early. He’s too small.” Nicky pressed his hand to the glass wall of the incubator in which their son was placed with a sigh.

“I think he takes after Andrew,” Neil smirked (despite the look Andrew gave him). “Really though, Nicky. He’s perfect. I know he’ll be alright before you take him home to Germany.”

Andrew crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot. “Katelyn said we—You have nothing to worry about. He’s finally eating well and he’s been gaining weight for the past week.”

“Speaking of babies, we have to go feed ours. Sir is a menace when she’s hungry,” Neil mumbled, whispering something else and receiving a nod before taking his husband’s hand.

“When we were out late for Wyatt’s birth, she tried to escape in retaliation,” Andrew nodded.

“Thank you for stopping by, you two.” Erik gently squeezed Neil’s shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Neil and Andrew said their goodbyes, Nicky pursed his lips and looked up at Erik. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”

“I know that we are,” Erik nodded, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist from behind and kissing his cheek.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Nicky, you’ve already been a parent. You were there for Andrew and Aaron when they had no one else. Because of you, they went to college. Because of you, they grew together instead of uprooting the support system you gave them. Because of you, they have a family outside of blood. You gave them all the love they never had. I have seen you love and care for people for so many years, Nicky. You are going to be an amazing father,” Erik whispered. “After everything you’ve been through and everything we’ve been through together, I think we can handle just about anything.”

Written by @reaching-my-summit, and posted here with permission.

[scribbleb-red]

Camisado (Your Emo Andreil AU)

[This started as a Morning AU on Twitter, warning: we're going very 00s] 

Andrew and Neil meet in a chat room age 13. 

Andrew's handle is @/phantom!attheopera 

Neil's is @/isayshotgun 

Andrew initially hangs around because he finds it hilarious how Neil roasts people he likes and trolls people he doesn't.

They also both have things in common - starting with but limited to their love of PATD and pretty much all emo music they can get their barely-teenage hands on. Andrew likes it a little heavier than Neil - but they both rave about Brendan Urie, Gerard Way and the Maddens.

They strike up a penpal style relationship - moving first from the chatroom to private messages, then the msn and email. 

They confide in each other. Neil moves around a lot because 'my dad's a bad man, he's after me and my mom'. 

Andrew tells him about Cass and Drake.

isayshotgun: he shdnt do dat 2 u 

phantom!attheopera: i know 

isayshotgun: id get u out 

phantom!attheopera: how 

isayshotgun: im gd w/ knives 

phantom!attheopera: maybe you can teach me. 

phantom!attheopera: and I'll teach you to spell, honestly. 

isayshotgun: *eyeroll*

Neil doesn't come to get Andrew because Aaron happens first. 

And then Andrew's in juvie and playing exy and the only way he can stay in touch with Neil is email. He shouldn't even be allowed email, but he's willing to get on his knees to have computer access, access to Neil.

Something about email makes their friendship even deeper. 

Actually, Andrew's fairly certain that he's half way in love and that if they were different people they'd have already talked about this. Still, it's because of email that he notices something is wrong with Neil.

His emails, which were long and rambling, have suddenly become short - no less full of feeling and affection, but syntactically different. 

He tries to ask about it. 

From: phantom!attheopera 

To: isayshotgun 

Subject: what's wrong with you?

Neil is cagey at first but Andrew gets it out of him in the end. 

From: isayshotgun 

To: phantom!attheopera 

Re:Re:Re:Re:Subject: what's wrong with you? 

 Being shot really sucks. That's all. N

All Andrew wants to do then is cross the country, gather Neil close and keep him safe. They're fifteen now and he'll be leaving juvie next month. 

"Can you keep safe until then?" Andrew types. 

"U cant save me. We talked about this." Neil's reply is not what he wants to read.

Andrew's released to Tilda. He finds out his brother is hooked on painkillers and his birth mother is an abuser. 

phantom!attheopera: she hits him. I need to stop her.  

isayshotgun: ... ... 

phantom!attheopera: what? 

isayshotgun: is that weird? for moms 2 hit u?

phantom!attheopera: your mom hits you too? 

isayshotgun: 2 teach me not 2 be stupid. 

isayshotgun: keepin me alive 

phantom!attheopera: that's not how it works, no one hits you for your own good. that's... 

phantom!attheopera: my therapist calls it emotional abuse and controlling behaviours.

Neil ends up sharing a lot more than he was probably initially intending - about the one time a girl kissed him and he couldn't walk properly for a week; about the way his mom pinched him and made him recite their rules back; about how he wasn't allowed to be sick, ever.

phantom!attheopera: one of these days I'll find you and we'll run away together. We'll go anywhere you want. Settle somewhere safe. 

isayshotgun: do u think ud like me irl? 

phantom!attheopera: well I can't see your spelling if you're talking 

isayshotgun: rofl lmao

Andrew tells Neil about Aaron. 

phantom!attheopera: he's a total prick 

isayshotgun: hv u tried talkin 2 him about smthing easy? like exy? 

phantom!attheopera: just because you like stickball 

isayshotgun: no i mean maybe u need a bridge 2 talk. common grnd.

phantom!attheopera: ...maybe

Neil is the one who gives him the idea about crashing the car with Tilda in it too. He sends Andrew all the instructions on a floppy disk that he posts to Andrew's therapist. On the front of the disk, Neil has scrawled their usernames. Andrew smiles.

Their relationship is a strange one - they are always there on the other end of the computer to each other, but they've never swapped photos and never heard each other's voices. 

When Andrew gets a phone, he asks Neil if he has one and Neil says no, only his mom has a burner.

Still Andrew gives Neil his number and on his birthday, November 4th, he gets a call from a Seattle phonebox. 

"Hey," Neil says. Andrew can hear him shivering, the chatter in his teeth. 

"Happy Birthday, Drew." 

They talk and talk. It's the best birthday Andrew's ever had.

Right up until the gunfire.

Neil vanishes. 

There's no emails. No MSN messages. No highly irritating nudges. He's not in any of their usual chatrooms. 

Andrew doesn't get another phone call.

Weeks go by. First one then another then another.

Andrew leaves messages. He sends emails. He really really hopes Neil isn't dead.

Aaron and Andrew go to live with Nicky. 

They're approached by The Ravens. Andrew turns down the infamous Riko Moriyama and his absurdly pretty Number 2, Kevin Day. 

David Wymack shows up. The deal extends to Aaron and Nicky if he wants it. Andrew says yes.

Sometimes Andrew thinks about Neil and tries to make an effort with Aaron, but Aaron is angry and a recovering addict and nothing Andrew says or does is ever enough. He still tries. 

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

 Subject: 9 ways I'm trying to befriend my twin

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Re: Subject: make that 11 ways 

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Re:Re:Re: Subject: none of these are working 

From: phantom!attheopera 

To: isayshotgun 

 Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Subject: you'd hate him too

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun  

Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Subject: ok fine, I don't hate him 

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Subject: Happy New Year 

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Re: Subject: And Happy Birthday I guess

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Subject: I miss you 

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Re: Subject: I still miss you 

From: phantom!attheopera

To: isayshotgun 

Subject: Panic! are play in Columbia next month !!!

From: isayshotgun 

To: phantom!attheopera

Re: Subject: Panic! are play in Columbia next month !!! 

 got u a ticket c u there @ 7pm

Andrew blinks. He stares at his inbox. The 1 new message. Neil's username. Neil is alive. Neil is coming to Columbia. Neil is coming to a Panic! At The Disco gig. He bashes out a hasty message. 

phantom!attheopera: Are you serious? 

isayshotgun: yeh

The month vanishes under Andrew's feet. He's nervous. He's excited. Nicky is exuberant. 

"My cousin has a date!" 

"Not a date, Nicky." 

Nicky just slides a knowing look his way and when Andrew takes the car keys, tells him to drive safe and stay out of fights. Andrew scoffs.

They haven't been talking much, Neil and Andrew. 

But Neil promised that Andrew wouldn't be able to miss him. 

Neil was telling the truth. He's standing there, a too-skinny teenager with badly cut hair flopping into his eyes, with a giant sign saying "phantom!attheopera".

Approaching, Andrew sees that Neil is gaunt, there's shadows under his eyes, which are blue as the sky on a clear, cold day. 

"You ready to scream your crooked heart out?" Andrew asks. 

Neil looks up with a slow smile. It wobbles as if his face is out of practice. 

"Hey." 

 "Hi."

They will - in fact - scream their crooked hearts out that night. They will hold each other upright and throw themselves through the mosh pit, feeling the press of elation and anger and frustration and hope. Neil will trip a stranger who gets too close for Andrew's comfort. Andrew will deliberately spill a drink over a girl who won't stop eyeballing Neil with hearts in her eyes. 

"My hero," Neil laughs. His laugh is rusty too. 

Andrew wants to hear it again and again. He wants to hear it every fucking day for the rest of his stupid emo life.

When the music fades and the crowds disperse, Andrew and Neil are left in the carpark, sitting on the bonnet of Andrew's car. 

He asks Neil where he's going tonight. 

Neil shrugs. 

He asks Neil if his mom is nearby but he already knows the answer. Mary Hatford is dead.

They don't leave for hours. Neil explains everything that night - who his dad is, what he's running from. Andrew doesn't care. 

When they're both cold, they sit in the car and turn the heating up. Andrew offers his hand to Neil and Neil curls their fingers together.

Neil is tired. Neil is so so so tired. 

"Come home with me." Andrew says. "Stay." 

Neil slumps against the seats, his head tilted so Andrew can see every sharp angle of his face. There's no fight, no bargaining. 

Just a sweet, fluttering feeling neither of them know to call hope.

The end.

[ravenvsfox]

Get Lost and Andreil 🌝🌝🌝

I hope it’s okay, but I put these two prompts together, and I took the whole lines, so this is:

let’s get lost and let the good times roll + the dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do

There’s a line up when they pull up to Eden’s Twilight, the 1 am crowd dispersing into the midnight one like someone refreshing the bathwater, all that new heat and fragrance.

Andrew’s already struggling to keeps tabs on his family. 

Aaron’s wasted, humming to himself, picking overly carefully over the cracks in the pavement. Nicky’s only barely less drunk, and he’s all dressed up in anticipation of pride, glitter in his stubble and streaked from his cheekbones up to his hairline.

“I’m going to go find Neil,” Andrew tells them. Nicky slops both arms around Aaron’s neck so they crisscross, like a wishy-washy headlock. Aaron ducks and tries to fight him off.

“Danke,” Nicky singsongs, laughing and tussling with his cousin.

Andrew crosses his arms tight against the cold, and follows the winding line all the way to the front. There’s a clump of people clogging the door, a couple of them shouting, trying to get around the ID scanner, maybe. 

Neil’s at the centre, holding one guy back firmly by the chest, and trying flatly to negotiate between two other kids who are clearly underage. He’s not tall, but he holds them at bay almost too easily, as incongruous and lightweight as a cork plugging a leak.

Their eyes meet through the commotion. 

Andrew tilts his head in the direction of the bar, then back at Nicky and Aaron. Be right there, Neil mouths. Andrew shrugs. 

He looks back at his family again, mixed in with the rest of the crowd. Their affection is a complicated two-step; they cringe and grin in turns, and the liquor wriggles past their distrust and turns them candid.

He watches them so he won’t linger on the way Neil’s posture changed when he spotted him, like he was straightening up for inspection.

When Andrew first met him at the club door, he’d seen only Neil’s ducked head, the way it made him look even smaller. He’d assumed that he could overpower him, easily, or that Neil would simply dissolve into his hoodie, and Andrew would forget about him.

He was always particular about the staff at Eden’s Twilight. They knew him, and he knew exactly which ones would watch the door for him, keep Aaron upright, and text him when Nicky started to think that a brawl was his business.

But then Neil had been so quick in a fight, and he’d had this--torpedo for a mouth. He’d memorized which twin was which after meeting them once, for a moment, in the dark. 

He threw a punch for Nicky after he’d known them for a month. 

Six months, and he did things like run out on his shift to buy Andrew’s favourite cigarettes, and let Nicky smack blue lipstick kisses on his cheek.

Andrew keeps skimming the trust off the top of him. He licks the comfort of his backup off his fingers like foam, and he never drinks deeper than that, never gets to the cool, crisp interest underneath.

He swallows cracker dust instead, pulls Roland into the back room and thinks of Neil outside the bar, guarding the door. Between the sugar and the drugs and Roland’s cherry-red mouth, the sweetness could kill him.

“Andrew,” Neil calls. “You guys are good.” He tosses him three wristbands, and Andrew snatches them out of the air. He waves Nicky and Aaron forward, and tries to thread the tricky needle of their uncoordinated bodies, the tight crowd, and Neil, still looking at him. 

“Every time you let them in like this, you get closer to being fired.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “I’m not worried.”

Andrew pushes Aaron and Nicky by the shoulders, trying to force them inside, out of this moment. He feels like he’s stuffing a suitcase that’s already full. Or like he’s trying to stuff a suitcase into another suitcase.

“Drew,” Neil says quietly. Andrew looks back at him and finds his expression soft and conflicted. “Find me before you go?”

Andrew wets his lips, quick. “We’ll see.”

They detach, with a little dying flicker and spark, a power surge and then nothing.

Andrew follows his family inside, bogged down in the motion of his own legs working on the stairs, the buzz from the alcohol wearing off, but a new one burning his fingertips, the dangerous feeling that he might like to be touched.

_____

He gets drunker, warmer, faster, puts everything in his head in a blender so it’s easier to swallow. He circles back to Roland too many times, leaning over the bar to put in new drink orders, enjoying the way that he shivers if Andrew puts his hand next to his on the bar.

His brother is fixed on a high stool at a corner table, and Nicky is dancing with two people at once, a couple maybe. 

He watches all this, and he also watches the front door opening and closing, cold air coming in, the flash of dark red hair caught in the wind.

“I know what you’re doing,” Roland says. He looks at him sideways. “You’re pretending I’m Neil,” he says conspiratorially.

Andrew takes a sip of his drink. “I would have to be drunker than this, to mistake you for him.”

“Fuck off. You know what I’m talking about. It’s stupid how long ago you two should have happened.”

“It’s not going to happen. He ‘doesn’t swing’, remember?”

“I don’t think you should put too much stock in what people say when Nicky’s hitting on them.”

“Some people listen, when they’re told what someone’s preferences are,” he says meaningfully, nodding at Roland’s hands.

“The touching thing again?” he asks, exasperated. “I’ve apologized a hundred times. I didn’t know it was going to be so hard to remember where I could put my hands when you were squirming around on top of--”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Andrew warns.

Roland puts his hands up, chastened. “I just wish you weren’t so afraid of enjoying yourself,” he says.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” Roland says. A strange look comes over his face. “Oh. You’re afraid of enjoying him.” Andrew looks up at him, and Roland grins. “You really like him.”

“Stop talking.”

“Can’t,” he laughs. “I’m having a breakthrough.”

Andrew pushes off the bar at that, and Roland calls half-heartedly after him, still laughing. It’s harder than he thought, to put space between himself and the edges of the room, to try and keep his gate steady without anything to hold onto. 

He heads for the back door, jabbing the push-bar and kicking an empty bottle into the gap so it doesn’t lock behind him. 

He sits down hard on the cement steps, and when he looks up, Neil is across from him in the alleyway, slung casually up against the wall, trying not to smile. 

He has a cigarette between his fingers, but he’s not smoking it. “You had enough?”

“For now,” Andrew says. 

Neil nods. 

“You wanted me to find you,” Andrew reminds him.

“Right,” he says hastily. “I uh--wanted to give you this.” He digs in his pocket and comes up with a shiny little silver key. He crosses the alley to give it to him. When he leans in, the smoke from his cigarette leaks out over Andrew’s face.

“What does it open?”

“The back room,” Neil says, shrugging. “I know Roland takes you there, sometimes, when it gets to be too much in the club. You should be able to come and go.”

Unfortunately, Andrew can’t stop his face from heating up. He slides the key into his back pocket and looks away. “You really are going to get fired for shit like this.”

Neil shrugs one shoulder. “Fine. I’d rather do what I want to do, while I’m here. I don’t like following rules that don’t make sense.”

“While you’re here?” Andrew repeats.

Neil’s eyes flicker between his, caught. “I never end up staying anywhere for long,” he admits. “Do you?”

“We’re regulars here,” Andrew reminds him.

“I assumed that was because you wanted to see me so badly,” he jokes. 

Andrew wants to disagree, but he can’t get his mouth around the lie. Since Neil gave him the key a minute ago, he’s stayed close, standing level with Andrew on the top stair. There’s wind, somewhere, but it can’t seem to fight its way between them.

When they met, Andrew assumed he could overpower Neil, but he’d had it backwards.

His cigarette drops to the ground. “Andrew,” he says quietly.

Andrew pulls himself up on the railing, and Neil steadies him by the shoulders.

“Careful,” he says.

“Too late,” Andrew says, and then he kisses the vulnerable shape of Neil’s mouth. 

He slides his fingers up into that ruffled red hair, and pulls him where he wants him. Neil gives him this slow, head to waist caress, such a light touch that Andrew just shivers and shivers through it.

“Hands on the railing,” he instructs him, because he can’t stand it. His mouth moves over Neil’s as he speaks. Neil wraps his hands around the bar between them without asking any questions. His eyes are slitted open, so close that Andrew can see the seam of his contact lenses in the dark.

He kisses the wet corner of his mouth, and drags their lips together until they’re aligned again. He thrills at the brush of Neil’s knuckles, when he leans close enough to trap his hands between their chests.

He pulls on the drawstrings of Neil’s black security hoodie, twining his fingers in them. The hood constricts around his neck, and Andrew watches it close with interest. He swipes his tongue over Neil’s bruised bottom lip.

“Isn’t your family waiting for you?” Neil asks.

Andrew swallows, thumbs tucked up into the soft, buzzed hair behind Neil’s ears. He realizes that they���re moving together like they have been for months, rocking in the same direction, nodding at the same time, only now they’re much, much closer.

“I’ve been waiting for longer.”

[venmomejoy]

The Lucky Ones- Pt. 4

Summary: After years of living on the run, Neil Josten is offered a role on The Foxes, one of the most popular shows on television. Accepting is probably one of the most foolish things he could do; he would be exposing himself to everything he had spent years running from. But Neil can't help himself.

part one / part two / part three

read it on AO3 here!!

Whoever it was, they had been careful. Every single item was in the exact place Neil had left it, not a hair out of place. His clothes were stacked in the correct order, his shoes pressed to the bottom of the bag, his binder snug in between a ratty gray shirt and a pair of black sweats.

His binder.

He whipped out the plastic folder, furiously flipping through the pages, looking for anything amiss. Neil loosed a sigh when he saw that the pages of contacts and coordinates were all still there, the cash he kept on hand seemingly unskimmed. Most of the information was coded, so he doubted the pilferer understood what he was looking at, but it still unnerved him that someone had seen the most important thing he owned, the information that keeps him alive.

But there was no way for him to code the news clipping and magazine articles he had stuck in there. Pages and pages of information on Riko and Kevin's career, dating back several years. Whoever saw this likely had a myriad of questions for Neil, and he didn't know how he would explain. The other documents he might be able to dance around, but the articles about Kevin and Riko were so straight forward, there's no way he could twist it into anything that wouldn't raise suspicion.

Neil clenched his jaw, fingers twisting into the fabric of his bag until his knuckles turned white. No one in this house had shown any interest in Neil's past, his belongings, besides Andrew. And he got the feeling only Andrew would cross this kind of boundary without provocation.

He stood abruptly, shoving his duffel bag under the bed. He needed to find somewhere safe to put it, somewhere that could not be infiltrated by prying hands; that was priority number two. Priority number one was confronting Andrew.

Neil shouldered Andrew's door opened, only to be met with an empty room. The comforter was pulled down, the sheets were ruffled in such a way that Neil knew Andrew had been lying here earlier tonight. He had walked through their lounge on the way to Andrew's room and hadn't seen him, so he shuffled downstairs to check the rest of the public spaces, coming up short. Until he got to the kitchen.

Andrew was perched on the countertop, spooning ice cream into his mouth. He dragged his eyes to Neil, the heavy glare in his eyes not faltering as he took in Neil's gritted teeth, his clenched fists. Andrew didn't want to mess around; good, Neil didn't either.

"You went through my bag."

This got Andrew's attention, his eyes flicking up to Neil's. He probably thought he had been so thorough, so meticulous, that Neil would never realize what he had done. He probably thought he would be able to catch Neil by surprise, ambush him with questions while he was reeling from all Andrew had discovered. Neil's blood boiled.

"What makes you think it was me? There are eight other people in this house, it could have been any one of them," Andrew mused, twirling his spoon in the air.

"It was you. What's your deal with me?"

"Ah, Neil, the real question is, what's your deal with Kevin?" Andrew asked, pushing himself off the counter.

Neil willed his voice to be steady. "I don't have a deal with Kevin."

"The shrine you have in that binder of yours says otherwise."

Neil had only been a child when he had started collecting those articles. He knew it was weird, but...it was a way to cope. Looking at these articles, watching Kevin and Riko grow up, reminded Neil of the life he could have had. He could have grown up with Kevin and Riko, could have been adored by millions, instead of being chased down dirty alleys with a bullet in his shoulder. All three of them were in the room that day; why did they get to live lavishly while Neil took off running? The articles were an impulse Neil let himself give in to, the resentment and burning jealousy a vice he indulged in. But he couldn't exactly tell that to Andrew.

"You shouldn't have gone through my things. I meant what I said Andrew- get off my back."

Andrew's body twisted so suddenly that Neil barely had time to react before there was a knife pressed against his abdomen. "Neil, you're efforts at intimidation are valiant, but pointless. You'd do well to start doing what I say; you don't want to get out of my good graces." The menacing smile creeping on his face had Neil questioning how "good" his good graces really were.

He would be stupid not to see the threat in Andrew's eyes, but all Neil could see was red. "Fuck you."

The laugh Andrew gave was nothing short of sinister, but before he could continue, a lengthy shadow fell over them. "What the hell is going on here?" Kevin questioned, using his fist to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Did I not tell you to get some sleep tonight? It's fucking 3 am."

Maybe he didn't understand exactly what kind of fucked-up relationship Kevin and Andrew had, but Neil knew that Kevin played a part in this too. He may not have sanctioned it, but Kevin and Andrew seemed to act in each other's interests. Neil didn't particularly feel like yelling at Kevin in front of Andrew, but he couldn't make him leave, so he did the next best thing. He felt his nostrils flare, his brow tighten as he turned to his castmate and began speaking in furious French. "You need to keep your pets on a tighter leash."

Kevin didn't try to hide his surprise at Neil's language switch, and Neil couldn't help the stab of satisfaction that surged through him at his shocked expression. When it became apparent Kevin wasn't going to speak, Neil continued. "Andrew went through my things. Call your dog off."

Kevin's mouth tightened. "I don't control what he does. Don't provoke him and he won't bother you."

"I thought you were leading this cast. Do you have so little authority here that you can't keep your own underlings in check? Guess they don't want the Moriyama's sloppy seconds."

His nostrils flared. "Fuck you, Neil. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Keep your friends in line. If one of you messes with me again you won't like the consequences."

"Is that a threat? From a skittish thing like you?"

"I'm not scared of a spineless cripple."

Kevin went stock-still, face pinching as he subconsciously cradled his bad hand. "The fuck did you call me?"

"I called you a passé coward whose career is circling the drain."

That seemed to snap something in Kevin. He pushed out of the doorway and advanced on Neil with murder in his eyes. Neil slipped around the island, narrowly avoiding Kevin's grasp, and sprinted out the front door before Kevin could catch him. He didn't wait to see if Kevin would pursue him, only set off in a sprint to the nearest convenience store. He moved on to priority two: securing safety for his belongings. He bought the first safe he found that fit the size parameters for his binder, along with a fresh pack of cigarettes. He would still need to hide the safe, but having it would significantly ease his anxiety.

He walked back home, a cigarette burning between his fingers, letting the smoke drift upwards without breathing any in. The smoke calmed his racing mind, and for a moment, he could pretend his mother was still here, that she would take care of this stuff, would make sure he wouldn't screw up this massively again. But when he looked over, it was just him on the street.

                                                                                                                         --------------------

Neil pushed himself off of his bed, residual anger and premature anxiety waking him hours before his alarm went off. He let himself run for an hour before returning to the cast house. Raiding the kitchen left him with two apples and some greek yogurt, which Neil quickly ate before jumping into the shower. He could hear signs of life outside of the porcelain tub, muffled conversations drifting up to him from the floors below.

After drying and dressing, Neil made his way downstairs and found everyone eating in the kitchen, sans Andrew and Allison. From what he'd seen of Allison, she spent a good amount of time perfecting her appearance, so Neil imagined she was somewhere primping, but he didn't know what Andrew was doing, and he didn't care. Someone had gotten donuts, and everyone was thoroughly enjoying the sugar, except Kevin, who was scowling at them all from the corner while he munched on a granola bar.

Nicky noticed him first. "Neil! You want breakfast?"

"I'm okay, I ate earlier."

"Oh, okay, no problem. More for Andrew- that man is a sugar fiend."

"Well, tell Andrew to take them to go, because we have to leave in ten if we want to make it to the studio on time," Dan said, pushing her chair back as she stood.

"Speaking of Andrew," Seth says, rubbing at his temples, "What was all the yelling about last night?"

Curious eyes turn to Kevin, who simply sneers, inclining his head towards Neil. Neil squirmed as everyone's attention shifts to him, but their expressions were full of worry and apprehension. From the absence of curiosity on their faces, Neil assumed Aaron and Nicky had been filled in on last night's events.

"Neil, are you alright man? What did Andrew do?" Matt asks.

"Who says I did anything?" a sardonic voice drawls from the staircase. "So quick to defend the man you've known for one day. Your prejudice against me is inappropriate and erroneous."

It's Dan who speaks this time. "We know you, Andrew, so don't play innocent. What's the issue?"

"Oh look, Neil's little army, coming to his rescue! Who knew you were so adept at making friends? I thought someone like you would know better."

Ignoring Andrew completely, Neil said, "It was nothing, just a little disagreement." They looked unconvinced.

Andrew scooped up two chocolate donuts, both covered in rainbow sprinkles, before swinging onto the counter. "I'd suggest putting on some shoes, Neil. We're leaving in five."

He shot his eyes up to Andrew's and held the blond's stare, even as that delirious smile spread across his face. Neil couldn't refuse, not now that Andrew had been through his binder. He could expose all he'd seen at any moment; Neil would be at Andrew's mercy until he could get this situation under control.

Neil turned on his heel, refusing to give Andrew the satisfaction of seeing him yield. Sliding into his shoes took seconds, the journey up and down the stairs minutes, and by the time he was in the living room again, Andrew was swinging his keys around his finger. He turned towards the door without a second glance, tossing the keys to Nicky as he went, trusting the others to scamper behind him. Kevin might lead this cast, but Andrew undeniably leads this group.

Nicky turns to him as they walk. "So... French, huh?"

Neil levels an unimpressed look at him. "Yes."

"You're fluent?"

"Not completely, but I know enough."

"What made you pick French?"

Neil had contemplated this answer last night. He figured Andrew and Kevin would be curious about his language switch, and he needed to have a believable response at the ready. "My mother's family was French. She insisted I picked it for my foreign language credit."

"I studied German in school. I even studied abroad in Germany. That's where I met Erik," Nicky said, his eyes turning soft.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah. He was the son of my host parents, and we just... clicked. He really helped me with a lot of stuff, and he's unbelievably hot. He's in Germany still, and as soon as my time on The Foxes ends, I'm moving there."

"Why'd you leave at all? For the show?"

"Not exactly. Someone had to take care of these two punks when Tilda died, so I became their legal guardian. We didn't get Wymack's offer until after I moved back." Neil inferred that Tilda was the twin's mother, but he couldn't comprehend the gravity of what Nicky had done for his family. He had left the man he loved, the place he loved, to become the caretaker of two extremely volatile and difficult children. Neil couldn't understand why he would do something like that, especially with how ungrateful the twins seemed. They separated before Neil could respond, him to the back and Nicky to the driver's seat.

Neil found himself pressed in between the twins, Andrew on his right and Aaron on his left. Aaron was staring intently out the window as Nicky pulled onto the road, but Neil could feel Andrew's eyes boring holes into his head. His grin was already in full-gear when Neil met his eyes. "Neil, Neil, Neil. Here I was, thinking we were getting along splendidly, and you just had to come and start a problem."

"I didn't start anything. If you don't want problems, stay out of my things."

"Oh, when will you learn? I do what I want. Don't try to control me; it makes me want to hurt you."

Neil can't help his scoff. "You can try."

"Ohhhh, Neil, don't tempt me." He looks Neil up and down. "You might turn out to be fun." He throws his head back in laughter.

When he settles, Andrew says, "Tell your secretary to clear your schedule for tomorrow night. We're going to Long Beach, and I have graciously extended an invitation to you."

Neil didn't know what Andrew was paying at. He knew Andrew had no interest in turning over a new leaf, knew this was not some offer of friendship from any of them, but whatever scheme they had planned in Long Beach, Neil still couldn't refuse. Andrew knew too much. He would have to hope his survival instincts were enough to get him out of Andrew's game unscathed.

"Trust me, it'll be fun," Nicky said, angling his head towards Neil without taking his eyes off the road. "We used to live in Long Beach, so we know all the good spots. We'll get dinner and then head to the club. And, we have a place down there, so we don't have to worry about driving home wasted."

"I don't drink. Or party." Crowds are easy to hide in, which would usually be a good thing, except they are easy for other people to hide in too. He has too many enemies to lose himself in a huge party, where someone could easily sneak up on him, where he could easily be taken without anyone noticing.

"That's alright, you can just hang with us and make fun of all the stupid shit intoxicated people do." Nicky finally glanced towards Neil, and his eyes looked hopeful. Neil didn't know why he cared. "Come on, man, let's not let this little scuffle ruin the rest of the season. We are going to be working together for the next few months, so let's put all of this behind us and start over. There's no reason why we can't get along."

Neil didn't trust it. But what could he do?

He wheeled on Andrew. "If I go, promise me you'll never touch my things again."

"So paranoid," Andrew says, eyes roving over Neil. "What makes you think you're so interesting that I'd want to go through your belongings multiple times?

Neil just stares at him, unfazed by the sarcasm. He wouldn't roll over on this.

Andrew flicks his hand in dismissal. "Fine, fine. This should be fun."

                                                                                                                 --------------------

Dan and Matt were scanning Neil from head to toe as soon as he got out of the car, checking him for injuries.

"Look, he's not hurt." Nicky put his hands on Neil's shoulders and pushed him in a little circle "See?"

They still look skeptical. "Nowhere we can see," Matt grumbles.

"And you can't see emotional damage," Dan shoots, glaring at Andrew as she does. He only smiles.

Kevin pulls Neil away from the bickering, leading him through the main doors. Neil thinks he's probably still upset about what happened last night, but for the most part, he seemed to have put it behind him for rehearsal.  

"Abby Winfield is our personal acting coach. We meet with her twice a week to work on technique and connection and anything else you can think of. Usually we'll run scenes from the show, but sometimes we pull outside scenes or improv. I know I told you that you have talent, and you do, but that doesn't mean you're good- it only means you have the ability to become good. You need to hone your skills and learn real techniques before you'll be anywhere close to ready for filming.

All of the people on this cast has years of experience on you, so you're going to have to work double-time to catch up. We all need to look of the same caliber on screen; it's the weakest person's job to match the skill of the strongest. I don't have time to coddle you. We need you to be ready in two and a half weeks, so we can't slow down to cater to your ego. If Abby or I critique you on something, you accept it, make the change, and keep moving."

Neil greedily accepted all of Kevin's instruction. The bubble of excitement in his chest was unfamiliar, but Neil liked it. It had been so long since Neil had looked forward to anything that he had forgotten what the feeling was like.

As soon as Kevin swung the door open, Abby was striding over to them. She stuck her hand out for Neil to shake as soon as she was in reaching distance while she introduced herself before ushering them into the training room. Someone had assembled ten metal chairs in a semicircle, and Neil chose a seat at the end. Unfortunately, there was no seating chart, and Andrew plopped into the seat next to him.

"So, Neil, David tells me you don't have any screen acting experience?" Abby asks, a pen poised over her clipboard.

"No, just a little bit of theater."

"Christ above," Seth mutters, "our ratings are going to plummet with someone as inexperienced as this kid dragging us down."

"Don't forget, Seth, we all have to start somewhere. Not everyone had the opportunity to start acting young." Abby levels a stern look at Seth, who just rolls his eyes, before redirecting her attention to Neil. "Well, looks like we have our work cut out for us. Let's get started."

They did a few warm-up exercises before moving into the actual acting, deciding to use scenes from the script, which Neil had just about memorized. They started with a scene Neil was not in so he could get a feel for what the sessions would look like. In this scene, Dan was arguing with Allison. The conversation felt a little stilted, but the anger on their faces was incredibly realistic. Abby gave them a few critiques before turning to Kevin, who gave some of his own. Their critiques were minor and quickly fixed when they ran the scene again. Happy with the outcome, Kevin let them reclaim their seats.

"Neil, you're up," Abby calls. "Let's run act three, scene two. Start on page 31."

Flipping to the correct page in his script, Neil walked to the center of the room. Matt and Nicky were in this scene with him, both greeting him with big smiles. Neil's character Alex had met all of the other characters in the earlier scenes, but this would be where he meets Ethan, played by Matt, and Henry, played by Nicky. Alex is cagey and mistrustful, hiding something big. It was easy for Neil to slip into character.

They had barely been rehearsing for two minutes before Kevin stopped them. "Neil, the dialogue is too stiff. It's painfully obvious everything you're saying is scripted, and it needs to feel like this is a real, natural conversation. Loosen up and try it again."

Neil nodded, taking a deep breath before jumping back it, but Kevin halted them again soon enough. "Neil, this isn't Shakespeare. Stop fucking talking in iambic pentameter. People don't naturally talk with that kind of syncopation. Listen to me talking right now. Do you hear the pacing of my words? This is how your lines need to sound. Stop overthinking and let it flow."

They worked that scene over and over again. It felt like as soon as Neil fixed one thing, Kevin was found another to pick apart, and his criticism wasn't exactly constructive. It was often instruction mixed with insults, or sometimes insults meant to instruct. Abby spoke up every now and then, but for the most part would just nod along with Kevin's statements, occasionally wincing at his harshness. They worked on his pacing, on making his movements feel more natural, on drawing from the other actors' energies. They ran that scene for at least an hour before Kevin waved him down. They decided to end the session on a scene with the twins.

Andrew and Aaron played twins in the show- Eli and Grayson, respectively. The scene is pretty emotional: Grayson has just been released from prison after being framed for murder, reuniting with his brother for the first time in months. Aaron quickly morphed into his character, tears welling in his eyes as he speaks to his brother, rambling about how scared he was, how he never thought he would get out. Neil was thoroughly stunned; it's not that he didn't expect Aaron to be a good actor, he just hadn't seen Aaron in anything other than a scowl, so the intense emotion he was pouring out caught Neil by surprise. Andrew, on the other hand, did nothing. In the script, Eli is trying hard to remain strong and put-together, since his character has always been the stoic type, but it is meant to be obvious he is putting on a front, that he is really just as affected as his brother. But Andrew is standing still, looking at his brother unfeelingly, not even bothering to say his lines after Aaron finishes his monologue. Everyone waits for a minute, but Andrew just laughs and gives a mocking clap to his brother. Aaron snaps out of character, rolling his eyes and turning to Kevin, who looked as if this behavior was normal, but still disappointing.

Abby finishes scribbling onto her clipboard before saying, "That was a good session, guys. Neil, that was really good for a first rehearsal, especially with no practice on the screen."

"It was sloppy," Kevin interjects. "You're incredibly far behind us all. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that if you don't want to make an embarrassment of yourself on set."

"But we're all here to help you, Neil," Abby says, sending Kevin a sharp look. "Don't worry too much."

Neil nodded his head, drained from the energy he'd exerted today, both in the acting and restraining himself from killing Kevin. As they walked out, he asked Nicky, "Why doesn't Andrew rehearse?"

Nicky just shook his head. "Andrew's complicated. He doesn't care about acting, doesn't care about his performance, doesn't care how the show looks or how it's received. In order for Andrew to try, he needs incentive."

"Incentive?"

"Yeah. Usually, during filming Wymack lets Andrew come off his medication. I'm assuming you know that Andrew's drugs are court-ordered?" Neil nods. "Yeah, so, if he's caught unmedicated he could go to jail, since it's a breach of his parole. And Andrew hates taking the medication, but he doesn't want to risk jail time, so he does it. But Wymack lets him sober up while we film in return for his effort. Wymack doesn't extend his offer to rehearsals, so Andrew doesn't try. He never does, but Kevin's still disappointed every time. He thinks one day he'll get Andrew to care."

Neil scoffs. "I thought Renee was the optimist."

"She is." Nicky grins back. "Kevin just thinks that everyone's as obsessed with acting as he is. His isn't optimism, it's a break from reality."

They stopped and grabbed take-out for lunch on their way back to the cast house. Kevin had designated today as a binge-watching day, and since it was only 1 pm, Neil figured they could get through a significant chunk of season one. The grabbed their food and fell into formation around the TV while they started up episode four.

Neil was entranced. The acting definitely needed work, but the plot was really engaging and well planned out. They broke after episode eight, with just two left in the season, and Neil thought he'd developed a pretty good grasp on the premise: The Foxes centered around Kayla, a junior at Palmetto High School, whose world is rocked when her best friend Madi, played by Renee, is found dead. The police name a group of suspects, namely people close to Renee. Ethan, played by Matt, is Madi's older brother. Nicky's character, Henry, is Ethan's best friend, and happens to be secretly in love with him. Allison plays Audrey, a schoolmate who always went out of her way to be mean to Madi. Seth is Austin, Madi's current boyfriend, although their relationship is pretty new. Aaron plays Grayson, Madi's ex-boyfriend, Andrew his fiercely protective brother, Eli. Kayla feels unsatisfied with the police's techniques and decides to look into the case herself, teaming up with Ethan to look for answers. The two become very close as they do, and just had their first kiss in the last episode they watched. So far, they are looking at Audrey; the girl had always been unnecessarily cruel to Madi- who knew how far she would go? Personally, Neil felt like it was all too wrapped up. There was something they weren't seeing.

They had stopped their watch party because Wymack showed up with dinner. They sprawled around the dining table, scarfing the food down as they filled Wymack in on their training with Abby before Dan asked, "What do you think so far, Neil?"

"I like it a lot. I was surprised when Kayla and Ethan kissed in the last episode. I didn't see that coming."

"What?" Nicky exclaimed. Neil was receiving looks of confusion from everyone, except Andrew, who seemed to find the whole thing amusing. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking."

Neil just frowned and shook his head. Why was this such a big deal?

"Neil, they built that kiss up from, like, episode one. Did you not see the secret glances, the suggestive dialogue? There was so much sexual tension you could choke on it."

Neil felt uncomfortable. "I don't know, I just didn't notice they had feelings for each other. I thought they were just working on the case."

"You're unbelievable," Nicky said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, who do you think did it?" Matt questions.

"I'm not really sure. I know they're leading us to think it's Audrey, but I think the whole thing feels too easy. Grayson has the most motive, being Madi's ex and all, but he seems too even-tempered to kill someone. I'm leaning towards Henry. I feel like he's the only one who hasn't even really been considered."

"Hmm," Matt hummed, and everyone looked on in amusement at Neil's musing.

The rest of dinner was filled with idle conversation, recounting the scenes they had watched and remembering funny moments from when they had filmed them. When they were all finished, Wymack plopped onto their couch and started flipping through channels, content to let his actors clean up.

In the middle of drying dishes, Neil felt Kevin freeze from where he stood next to him. He looked over at him, but Kevin's eyes were glued to the TV. Wymack had turned on a talk show, but the reduced volume couldn't hide the image of Riko Moriyama. Kevin's face was pale, his hands shaking as he strode over to the couch, turning up the volume before Wymack could say anything.

"So, Riko, when does Evermore head back to production?"

"Well, we're set to start filming again in about four weeks."

"Ahh. Isn't that around the same time your old friend Kevin Day will return to filming on The Foxes?"

Neil could see Riko's face tighten at the reminder, as if he was hiding a sneer. It was so minuscule he doubted anyone would have noticed, had they not been trained to analyze every little movement for a possible threat like Neil had. Glancing over, Neil knew Kevin saw it too.

"I believe they start a little bit earlier than us, but around the same time, yes. Ironic, isn't it?" His smile was camera-ready, but didn't reach his eyes.

"It is indeed. Well, perhaps you can wish him luck for us on his second season with The Foxes!"

"I would, if Kevin and I still spoke." His words were met with gasps from all around the audience, and quite a few from their living room. "I haven't heard from him since his accident."

Kevin was whispering something from where he stood, something that sounded like a prayer.

"He wouldn't dare," Allison said.

The host recovers from his shock. "I must say, Riko, this is surprising. You two were as close as brothers- I don't think anyone thought you two would have a falling out."

"Yeah, I didn't either, but Kevin took the accident really hard. We all did. And when we found out he couldn't finish the season? Well, it was like you said, I felt like I lost my brother. The emotional stress of it all took a toll. We had been acting together since childhood; I don't think either of us knew how to go on without the other. And we eventually just lost contact. There was no loss of love, at least on my part. I miss Kevin dearly. I'm actually hoping to see him soon."

"Is that so? Hollywood's favorite pair, reunited after over a year apart?"

"We'll see." Riko's smirked.

With that, the show ended.

The silence in the room was deafening for a moment, everyone looking at Kevin. His eyes were blown wide, the shaking in his hands spread to his whole body. Neil could here his hyperventilating from where he stood. "Fuck," was all Kevin said. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Kevin started pacing, dragging his hands through his hair and tugging. Wymack stood up and grabbed his shoulders. "Hey! Kevin, stop. Sit down."

"No! I can't- I just-" Neil had never heard that kind of panic in Kevin's voice. "I told you, I told you he was going to come for me, and now..."

"He's not going to touch you, Kevin. He can't. You're signed with me for the next two years. He has no claim to you. "

"They can pay my contract off a hundred times over and you know it! There's no way for me to escape him. I've already angered him so much, if he finds me he'll-"

Andrew strode forward until he stood directly in front of Kevin, Kevin falling silent. "Kevin."

Kevin just looked at the ground, breathing erratic.

Gone was any trace of humor in Andrew's eyes, replaced with an empty stare. "Kevin, look at me." Kevin's eyes were frenzied when he raised them to Andrew's. "I don't make promises I can't keep. I told you he wouldn't touch you, and he won't. Have I ever failed you before?"

Slowly, Kevin started to relax. Neil could tell he was still nervous, but whatever Andrew had promised him seemed to calm him. He fell back into the couch, burying his head in his hands.

Everyone's faces were pinched with concern, even Aaron and Seth looking uneasy abut what they heard. Neil just watched the scene in confusion. He didn't know why it was such a big deal that Riko wanted to get back in touch with Kevin. Riko seemed psychotic, sure, and his family seemed like a cult, but he and Kevin had always seemed like they loved each other.

Wymack noticed Neil's confusion, sighing before he waved him over, leading them into the hallway. "Neil, there's something you should know if you're going to be a part of this cast."

Neil just looked at him. "Okay."

Wymack opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, before asking, "The Moriyama's aren't who you think they are."

Neil froze. He didn't like surprises, and he got the feeling he wasn't going to like where this was going.

"The Moriyama's- they are big in the film industry, yes, but that's not where they make their money. The Moriyama's are a gang."

[mykaeba]

Hey so i kinda wrote some bullshit want to know about it? (course you do)

so it seems to be in an alternate reality, and it starts right after Nathaniel wakes up in the hospital with Browning and Towns

* after discussing with the 2 FBI agents, they decide to fake his death

* their goal is to capture his father’s people, and then to return him to the foxes

* so the FBI agents end up facing the foxes alone to tell them Nathaniel Wesninski died of his wounds

* Andrew refuses to believe it unless they show him Neil’s body, but Nathaniel knew this would happen

* so he makes the agents drogue him to fake his death

* when the foxes arrive in the room they find Neil on the bed, irrespondant

* Browning and Towns are waiting just outside the room to give them some semblant of privacy

* Andrew doesn’t make a sound

* he watches and watches and watches then storm out of the room

* that seems to be the signal for the others to start crying

* Aaron is watching from the door, not saying anything

* that way he can also see where his brother is

* strangely he is the one who remains the longer in Neil’s room

* when everyone else has left he gets closer to the bed and try to take Neil’s pulse

* which is inexistant

* he then drops Neil’s hand, looking hateful, and leaves the room

* Nathaniel doesn’t know what happened when he was asleep so Browning makes a quick recap when he finally wakes up

* as he listens to what Browning says, Towns helps him to take off the bandages they put on the higher parts of his arms to prevent blood to come down his hands

* when he regains control of his limbs, Nathaniel remarks there is a a paper hidden in his left hand

* he doesn’t mention it to the agents

* quickly, they make him leave the hospital to hide him

* they explain how they will replace the body for the funerals

* Nathaniel says that if Andrew comes, no matter how important the resemblance is, he will know the body isn’t the good one

* but he doesn’t really believe that Andrew will come

* when they finally leave him alone, Nathaniel opens the paper

* it says “dead people don’t usually breathe - better luck next time. Aa”

* Nathaniel stops thinking

* stops breathing

* because what the fuck

* why didn’t Aaron say anything

* he frantically turns the paper to see if there is something on the back

* and there is

* but that’s not what he was thinking about

* Aaron has only written “he said 100% you asshole”

* that moment Nathaniel allows three tears to go past his eyelids

* he flushes the paper in the toilets

* then goes back to Browning and Towns

* he knows for sure that Andrew won’t be at the funerals now

* when the funerals begin, Nathaniel is halfway through the country, leaving the biggest traces he can to make his father’s men show up

* he is the fbi’s bait and he truly hopes they’ll be able to hide themselves well enough

* and they are

* but his father’s men are better

* and Ichirou is the best

* so when Romero and his men show up Nathaniel is alone

* the fbi hasn’t noticed

* Nathaniel is walking down a street when he gets shot in his side

* it is not meant to be dangerous for his life but it really hurts like hell

* and Nathaniel isn’t able to fight back

* as Romero starts cutting his leg 3 shots are heard

* and Nathaniel’s father’s men fall around him

* the cars that stop next to him are black

* they’re always black

* Ichirou is cold and distant

* Nathaniel is polite despite his left side hurting like hell

* and he is alive when he leaves the car

* he’s holding a gun missing three bullets

* at the same time, somewhere else, his wrong body is buried, and isn’t that some sort of a joke?

* Nathaniel smiles thinking about it

* he starts to laugh

* and it hurts but he can’t stop

* when Browning and Towns finally arrive, he’s still laughing, sitting in the dirt

* “too late” he says pointing at the bodies

* “you can leave me now”, he adds “i won’t need your help anymore”

* “what about your side”, Browning asks

* to what Nathaniel says “right” and sighs “i guess i still need you for a bit”

* then he remembers the foxes

* how he faked his death

* everything comes back crashing against him

* and the air can’t seem to fill his lungs anymore

* he starts seeing black

* he needs the hand on his neck, but the hand doesn’t come

* so he stops thinking altogether and loses consciousness

* he wakes up in a plane with Browning on one side and Towns on the other

* and an oxygen mask on his face

* Browning says “you have a story to tell and papers to sign”

* Nathaniel looks at the papers before him, but he can’t

* he can’t do it now

* not in a plane, not barely breathing, not with the foxes thinking he’s dead

* for once Browning seems to understand

* the rest of the flight is silent

* when they land, Aaron is there waiting for them hidden in the airport’s crowd

* the FBI agents don’t see him, but Nathaniel does because he’s the one who sent the twin a message

* he nods

* and Aaron answers the same way before disappearing

* when they get in the car, Nathaniel says to Browning “someone will be at your place, and i want him to be with me when i tell you the story. You don’t have a choice”

* Browning hates him for this but agrees

* when they introduce Andrew in the room where Nathaniel is kept he feels like he’s going to drown

* Andrew keeps silent

* and stares

* Nathaniel stares too

* Andrew then fishes something from his pocket and throws it at Nathaniel

* who doesn’t manage to catch it because his hands still hurt so much

* the phone clatters on the ground but Nathaniel is able to see the “0” from where he sits

* “i...” is all he manages to say before Andrew moves

* he walks slowly to Nathaniel, still silent and crouches between his legs

* he lifts his hands, even more slowly, and Nathaniel thinks they shake, but he doesn’t look away from Andrew’s burning stare

* he peels the bandages off and stops moving altogether

* “what happened” he asks and his voice is rauque with disuse

* and Nathaniel’s voice isn’t wavering, it isn’t, when he answers “a dashboard lighter”

* “you were dead” is Andrew’s answer, matter-of-factly

* “they would have hurt you to get to me”

* “what did i tell you about playing the martyr card?”

* “I’m not dead anymore, so it shouldn’t count”

* “one hundred and eleven”

* at this, Browning clears his throat

* and suddenly, Andrew looks like he wants to destroy the world

* he gets stiff stands up and looks at the agents

* Browning has papers in his hands and Towns holds a recorder

* they all sit at the table, and Nathaniel begins his story

* when he talks about Romero but doesn’t mention Ichirou, the hand takes it’s place against the back of his neck

* and Andrew says “breathe”

* so that’s what Nathaniel does

* once he’s told them what they wanted to hear Browning hands him the three documents

* Nathaniel stops breathing again

* the name is inches away from him

* all he has to do is sign these papers

* but has he any right to do it?

* Andrew isn’t moving either

* he’s just sitting next to him, a steady presence

* Nathaniel knows he won’t talk when the agents are in the room and Browning seems to understand this too, because he takes Towns and leaves saying “five minutes”

* Nathaniel’s voice isn’t above a whisper when he asks “can i really be Neil Josten again?”

* then Andrew is facing him again his hand still on Nathaniel’s neck, his mouth a breath apart from Nathaniel’s mouth

* “i told Neil to stay”, he answers. “Leave Nathaniel buried in Baltimore with his father”

* his eyes are grounding, and so is his hand, and so is his voice, and so are his words

* “Neil Abram Josten”, Neil says

* they get back to the foxes, at last

* Aaron warned Whymack who asked everyone to come to his place

* Whymack didn’t say why, he knew they wouldn’t believe him

* so when the door opens, everyone expects Andrew to come in, but it’s Neil who show up

* Kevin freezes

* Aaron is just sitting in the middle of the sofa (for o n c e) and he won’t move

* Renee’s smile is watery but she wouldn’t admit it

* Nicky Dan Allison and Matt start crying

* they go for Neil mumbling shit about his death and asking what why how when and why again

* but they stop when they see Andrew’s glare

* Neil can’t say anything but “hi...”

* he made his friends cry and he hates himself for that

* “i’m so sorry” he bubbles between his sobs

* Dan can’t stand Neil looking so worn up and crying so she takes him in her arms daring Andrew to react

* Andrew doesn’t

* so Nicky follows Dan’s lead followed by Matt then Allison then Renee who discretely came closer

* and they end up a crying mess with Andrew watching them closely

* wait no he’s only watching Neil

* they all end up sleeping at Whymack’s that night

* Neil gets to explain Kevin how he sold him and Jean to Ichirou

* Kevin ends up fucked on the ground, with too many alcohol in his body

* Abby is there too, and she insists to take a look at Neil

* which leads us to the scene in the hotel

* after that, they all end up in the living room

* they sleep on the ground

* Andrew accepted not to be against the wall to allow the other to be close to Neil

* so they more or less lay in a star shape

* Neil is the first one to fall asleep

* Andrew holding one hand and the other foxes sharing the second one

* Andrew doesn’t want to sleep

* he stares and stares and stares at Neil’s face

* just before falling asleep, he mumbles “one hundred and twelve”

* and somehow, even through sleep, it makes Neil smile

[sunchosens]

keep me here

pairing: andreil  word count: 2,963 read on ao3

This is real.

Andrew wasn’t sure at first but the smell of black coffee in the morning and the cluttered path of shoes through his room and the tangled blankets cloaking his body convince him otherwise. Reality settles in when he lounges on the couch all Saturday, inevitably getting roped into an inane, violent videogame by Nicky, Kevin glaring disapprovingly from the kitchen.

It’s real in the way the cold bites at his fingertips when he refuses to wear gloves for a morning cig, but insists on pulling on three pairs of socks. It’s the rush he gets on the court, closing out the goal, watching the opposing team’s strikers become angrier and angrier.

But most of all, Andrew thinks, Neil is real.

He might have laughed if someone had suggested that to him not even a year ago. But now, Neil might be the most solid thing in his life. When the lines between reality and not start to blur, Andrew feels loose and dizzy, like he could float away at any second. But then Neil will crawl into their bed, hesitating only a moment to judge the moment and kissing him gently, before flopping onto his back besides Andrew. He’ll look over at Andrew, that fucking glimmer in his eye and ask, “Coffee?” like he doesn’t already know what the answer is.

He’ll be the one to leave shoes all over Andrew’s rug, claiming that yes, he does need three pairs of running shoes, and no, he would not appreciate it if Andrew let Aaron sell them on eBay. Andrew will be lightheaded, ready to escape to the roof and dream about murdering his demons, when Neil will join him, hoodie tightened as much as possible and slide a carton of ice cream his way, like that could solve everything.

Neil’s a fucking idiot, no matter what Boyd and Wilds say.

That doesn’t make him any less real. And it’s not like Neil’s some magical cure all for the car crash of Andrew’s mind. It’s just, the bad days aren’t as often. More times than not, Andrew seeks Neil out, hoping for a glimpse of that breathtaking solidity.

Take right now, for example. Andrew’s pretty sure that if anyone even looks at him the wrong way, he won’t be able to hold himself accountable for what he might do. He’s sequestered himself away in the library, the wind chill a little high for the roof, even by his standards. He desperately wants a cig, but he’s not a goddamn junkie, and so he digs his nails into the palm of his hand, stifling the urge.

The whole reason he came to the library was to get away from people who know him, and Andrew’s not so sure he’s succeeded, seeing how Neil just stumbled into the library. His cheeks are bright pink and his hair is ruffled even though everytime he goes outside, Andrew tells him to wear a hat. Neil runs a hand through his windblown hair, unknowingly looking thoroughly debauched. Andrew is not pleased.

Andrew slouches down in his chair, trying to avoid what he knows is coming. Neil spots him, his face lighting up like a goddamn Christmas tree and Andrew mentally raises the percent in his head. Beelining towards him, Neil slings his bag onto the table when he arrives, loudly pulling out a chair and practically dropping into it.

“I was looking for you,” Neil wheezes, pounding his chest sightly.

“Did you run here?” He doesn’t want to engage, but Neil is panting and Andrew’s mind naturally goes into the last time he was panting and he has to shift in his seat.

“Yeah, away from Kevin,” Neil levels him with an accusing look, shrugging his jacket off and moving to open his backpack. Andrew stares back at him, deadpan. Neil flips his textbook open, seemingly unconcerned. “I figured you’d be on the roof,” he explains. “You weren’t obviously, but Kevin was. I guess he’s looking for you, too. He wanted extra Exy practice but I have a huge test tomorrow,” Neil gestures towards his book, “and told him I’d be right back.”

“You ran here.” Andrew states, not quite sure what to do with the information. Neil shrugs and Andrew sees right through him. Neil’s obviously concerned and trying to hide his feelings behind a mask of unaffected nonchalance. He knows that when Neil didn’t find Andrew on the roof or in the dorm that he would have searched all over campus.

The thought doesn’t make him want to be physically ill, which is a development. He can still feel the ghost of hands on his skin and the racket in his head hasn’t quite subsided so instead of leaning towards Neil, he slumps down further in his chair.

Neil looks casual, flipping obnoxiously through his textbook. He doesn’t say anything else and Andrew lets the silence fall over his mind, muffling out the cacophony. For a moment, all he can hear is Neil’s steady breathing, the scratching of his pencil on paper and the occasional turning of a page. He knows Neil knows it’s a bad day, knows Neil’s known it since Andrew said nothing this morning, choosing instead to hibernate under the blankets like his life depended on it.

But Neil said nothing, and the fact that he chose to seek Andrew out, even if it was just to spend time with him meant something to Andrew. The knots in his stomach ease up slightly, and he raises up in his seat. Neil glances up at him, the eraser of a pencil wedged between his teeth as he gnaws on the metal. Heathen.

Neil’s staring at Andrew like he holds the fucking world and usually, Andrew would be irritated by the attention, but today he stares back. Then Neil smiles, radiant bright brilliant, and Andrew has to look away. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying? I don’t think I hold the answers to,” he peers over at Neil’s textbook, “Advanced Calculus.”

Shrugging, Neil slams his book shut. He shoves it aside, dropping his pencil somewhere into the recesses of his backpack. “I was just doodling anyway,” he grinned, and Andrew rolls his eyes, snatching Neil’s notebook. “Hey!” Neil exclaims, halfheartedly reaching out to grab it back. Andrew gives him a look, glancing down at the paper.

He’s surprised to see himself, drawn in Neil’s steady hand. Fractions and formulas float behind him, but the drawing of Andrew, slumped down in his chair, hood over his face, remains real. Neil is looking at him, a curiously indecipherable expression on his face. Almost like he’s scared of what Andrew will think. Andrew sets the notebook down on the table, running his fingers over the drawing once, before carefully ripping the page out, folding it, and tucking it in his pocket for further study.

“That’s my homework,” Neil blithely remarks, like he didn’t just somehow change the entire course of Andrew’s day.

Andrew levels him a flat stare. “Do you want me to murder you?” Neil holds up his hands in mock defense, haphazardly shoving papers and his calc book back in his bag.

“You wanna get something to eat? Kevin threw out all the takeout last night,” Neil offers, carefully assessing Andrew. Doing the same to himself, Andrew wonders if he’s ready to be around others yet. He hasn’t thought of the past almost since Neil got here and decides he’d rather be with Neil in another place then sit here by himself. Not that he thought Neil would just leave if Andrew told him he wanted to stay.

He shoves his chair back in answer, throwing Neil’s backpack at him. Neil doesn’t grin but Andrew’s positive he wants to. He sees the twitch of Neil’s lips out of the corner of his eye and as Neil rounds the table to stand by him, Andrew pinches his wrist sharply. The touch is through a layer of clothes but Andrew feels a familiar wave of nausea, even though he was the one to initiate it. He snatches his hand away, reminding himself even though he’s not feeling quite as murderous, this is still a bad day where his demons lurk around every corner.

Neil curses, but merely sends Andrew a heated look. He seems to sense that Andrew’s not doing too well and shrugs his jacket on, zipping it up, his shirt getting stuck more than once. “Are you a fucking child?” Andrew snarls over his shoulder, attracting several disapproving pairs of eyes from around the library. Neil just laughs, breezing past him, holding the door open for Andrew, careful to make sure he’s out of the way.

“Want me to drive?” Andrew tosses Neil the keys in reply, even though every fiber of his being is aching to be in control. His urge to hurt something is returning and not even the biting cold is enough to distract him, although it keeps him grounded. He hasn’t felt detached since Neil can through the library doors, however and he’s trying to count that as a win.

The second he’s in the car and Neil sticks the keys in the ignition, Andrew cracks a window, digging through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes, his fingers trembling slightly. Neil doesn’t say anything, simply digs the lighter out of his pocket and cranks the heat so high Andrew can barely hear the rumbling bass playing on the radio.

They seem to be driving aimlessly for a while, sitting in silence, just the sound of the heater and the radio filling the space. Andrew doesn’t mind. It allows his mind to quiet, allows him to stare at the profile of Neil’s face, his brow furrowed slightly. Andrew’s on his second cig, passing it occasionally to Neil when they pull up to a small diner Andrew’s never been before.

Neil turns the car off, letting the keys drop through his fingers and into Andrew’s outstretched palm. He clenches his fist around them, the biting metal surprisingly grounding. Neil slides out of the car, but Andrew waits. He carefully tucks the keys back into his pocket, tries to spot Neil. His breathing is irrationally fast and Andrew slams his fist against the side of the car. Angry with himself, he climbs out of the car. Neil’s got his arms propped up on the roof of the car and the look he gives Andrew is surprisingly open.

Andrew thinks he appreciates this honestly, even unasked for, more than anything else Neil could give him. He knows Neil wants to help, knows he really can’t help, and this open, unflinching honesty is much more than Andrew deserves. But he’s a selfish person and he’ll take Neil’s unwavering support for as long as it’s offered.

Tugging his sweatshirt around him, Andrew wishes he had worn his coat instead. The wind is unforgiving and standing into it makes him feel like he can’t quite catch his breath. It makes him feel like he’s flying and it’s liberating. Neil goes to open the door, but Andrew shakes his head. “Order for me.”

Neil goes inside without question, leaving Andrew to kick at the cement. He sits on one of the parking stops outside the front, lighting another cigarette. He takes a drag, blows out the smoke, and lets the rest of it burn to the filter before he stubs it out. He fingers the knives inside his armbands, his fingers numbing. It’s almost 15 minutes later before he finally pulls himself up to go inside, the bell jingling cheerily above him.

Andrew’s not sure where Neil found this diner, because he feels like he just stepped back in time to the sixties. The booths are red and white laminate, the tiles the same color, although the white ones look like one too many cokes were spilled. There’s a jukebox in the corner, cheerily playing a Beach Boys song, and the waitress at the bar gives Andrew a hair too long of a lookover, clearly trying to reconcile his murderous expression with the neon orange sweatshirt he has on.

Andrew resists the urge to flip her off and makes his way towards the back where Neil has selected a booth where he can sit with his back to the wall. Andrew is slightly comforted by the reminder Neil has demons he has to fight as well.

He slides into the booth, grimacing slightly at the sticky feeling. Neil’s currently occupied with stuffing curly fries in his mouth, the plate in front of him looking like the site of a massacre. Neil overzealously uses ketchup and Andrew thinks it’s disgusting. Maybe Neil does it just so Andrew won’t snatch food off his plate.

There’s a chocolate milkshake, a giant plate of crinkle cut fries and a hamburger, plain except for bacon and a side of mustard. Andrew stares at the plate, unable to comprehend for a moment. He’s taken aback by Neil’s easy understanding of him, and the fuzziness of this morning seems like a distant memory. Andrew feels like he could feel any emotion he wanted right now, like he’s tethered to the ground by Neil’s hand.

He doesn’t say anything, just dunks three fries into his milkshake and stuffs them into his mouth. He’s about halfway through his plate of fries, Neil methodically picking apart the bun to his burger and occasionally trying to steal the bacon off his plate when Andrew’s phone starts buzzing on the table. He shoves it towards Neil, not in the mood to talk to anyone right this second and Neil takes one look at the caller ID before shutting it down.

Andrew’s phone starts buzzing again and Neil rolls his eyes. Andrew snorts, shoving another fry in his mouth. Swiping across his phone, Neil puts it on speaker. “Andrew’s phone, how may I help you?”

He can practically hear steam blowing out of Kevin’s ears, right before his accusing voice explodes out of the phone. “Where the fuck are you?” Kevin snaps, and Andrew would be pissed if he weren’t so amused by the look on Neil’s face.

“We decided to get lunch,” Neil replies blandly. “I was feeling antsy.” Andrew tries not to think too much into the way Neil covered for him, but he finds himself aching with the urge to kiss Neil senseless.

“It’s 3:30,” Kevin snaps, his voice taking on that emotionless tone that only happens when he’s good and truly pissed off. Andrew’s more confused by the time. He didn’t realize it was so late. Reaching over, he grabs Neil’s wrist, pushing his sleeve back to get a good look at his watch. Sure enough, it’s late afternoon. He’s not sure whether to focus more on the fact time slipped away from him, or the fact he’s holding Neil’s arm, and feels perfectly fine.

Neil’s trying to get Kevin off the phone, eventually just hanging up on him. He slumps down in his seat. “Fucker,” he groans, staring moodily across the table at Andrew. Andrew gets out of his seat, ignoring the way Neil looks up at him with confusion, only to slide into the booth on Neil’s side. “What are you doing?” Neil murmurs, like he’s barely breathing.

Andrew thinks if he can do this, can take control of the situation, he’ll be fine. He remembers the nausea of this morning, even touching Neil through his clothes and hopes he’s come down to earth more since then.

“Yes or no?” He won’t take this step without Neil, and the yes has barely fallen from Neil’s lips before Andrew kisses him.

It isn’t a nice kiss, not that many of them are, but Andrew is tender in the way he tugs on Neil’s hair to bring him closer, and the hovering of Neil’s hands over his shoulders make Andrew’s heart tighten. He trusts Neil and the fact he trusts Neil makes him angry and terrified beyond belief. He doesn’t ever want to stop feeling this way and knows if he ever does, his life would be meaningless.

They break apart, Neil panting slightly, his lips swollen and red and if they weren’t in a public place, Andrew would let Neil get down on his knees. The ache of this morning is gone, replaced by Neil’s breath against his face, the smell of the fries and the jukebox music, now playing a lively GoGos song.

“You okay?” Neil finally asks, the question Andrew knows has been on his mind since he woke to Andrew’s stony silence.

“118%,” Andrew whispers into his ear, enjoying the way Neil’s back arches slightly. Before Neil can say anything else, or recover his breath, Andrew’s kissing him again.

He thinks to himself, this is real this is real this is real. The thrumming of Neil’s heart underneath his palms is real and the flutter of his own is just as concrete. The lingering sweetness in his mouth from his milkshake is real and the music in the background is tangible. Andrew doesn’t know when “I hate yous” and percents became his own language for conveying emotions, but this is the most alive he’s felt today.

Neil’s fingers clenched in his sweatshirt pull him to earth and the insistent press of his tongue keep him in the moment. He knows they’ll have to go back eventually, have to face Kevin but Andrew isn’t thinking of that.

He’s lost in Neil, in this small bubble they’ve created for themselves. When they break apart again, Neil uses the opportunity to snatch another one of Andrew’s fries, and he scrambles for the butter knife to smack Neil on the knuckles. Neil lets out a surprised yelp, shock flitting over his features before he barks a laugh, his face open and pleased.  

This is real.