#following in Wymack’s footsteps that is

[jeanmoreaue]

i was joking about Kevin stringing along Andrew, Neil, and Jean in each of their own ways, but after some thought I actually think it’s like Kevin taking after his father almost. like Wymack obv takes in people who deserve second chances and Kevin is following in those footsteps in his own way by promising Andrew, Neil, and Jean different things to give them a reason to keep living.

i just think it’s sad how often Kevin gets written off for being fuckin dialed in on exy (and like he is) but he genuinely does care for people and his motivation for helping those three is pretty altruistic

[orange-foxes]

BAMF Neil

🤜🤛 Deadly Affections by NikNak22 (12k)

Neil Josten is not soft- has never been in fact. But when an unintended comment from one of the Foxes throws Neil for a loop, he finds himself reminding them why no one should think of him in that way. But why is Andrew suddenly so distant? And what happens when all of these reminders of his past start to catch up with him? Aka: all the times Neil proved he was a badass, and Andrew reminds him he's an idiot.

🤜🤛 thorn in my skin by ephemeralsky (6k)

These days, both of them are able to sleep on the same bed without any weapons underneath their pillows and on their person, and Andrew is not sure what he wants to do with this knowledge. They have poured years into forging their armors, and now they are stripping them, piece by tattered piece. (or: the five weapons Neil has at his disposal + the one weapon he wields without knowing it)

🤜🤛 The Nameless Monster by kanekicure (108k)

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before. So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be. - Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

🤜🤛 Walk a Little Lighter by jjmash (5k)

Five times Neil Josten took care of shit, and the one time he didn't have to. *** Wymack looks between Neil’s overly-innocent expression and the spot on the floor where Jack is curled into the fetal position. “Uh huh. You gonna tell me he did that to himself?” Neil crosses his arms. “It’s entirely possible.”

🤜🤛 the ash is in our clothes by Klanceyschmancy (12k)

A continuation of the Neil and Aaron fight, Aaron walks in on Andreil and things blow up. Aaron still doesn’t trust Neil, he probably never will, but he’s learning to trust Andrew. With the help of both katelyn and surprisingly, Neil, he learns to talk to Andrew and let him in. One step at a time. Aaron and Neil fight. Katelyn and Aaron talk. Andrew and Aaron talk. Aaron and Neil talk. Matt and Neil talk. A lot of talking goes on. In this fic. Hashing things out. And then Neil’s pov of being walked in on and how Andrew and Neil deal with it.

🤜🤛 pieces of me line the pavement (my blood soaks the cracks in the road) by CuteLittleMousie (8k, series)

Andrew had no doubt that if he’d killed Drake of his own accord, with his own weapons, watching the blood flow wouldn’t have been nearly as sweet. Sharing that was vulnerable. It was dangerous. But then again, so was Neil. --- or; andrew and neil meet while neil is still on the run. it changes nothing and it changes everything.

🤜🤛 Armies by nekojita (342k)

Upon Mary Hatford's death, Nathaniel Wesninski makes the call to his uncle Stuart rather than continuing on the run and ending up in Milport, Nevada. Upon graduating university, Andrew Minyard turns down all offers of a professional Exy career and muddles through a 'normal' life, until the boredom and inanity of it all wears him down and he accepts an offer of a break to spend some time with his cousin Nicky in Stuttgart, Germany. There he meets Abram Hatford, a handsome and broken young man who has more in common with Andrew than he suspects, and nothing's normal anymore.

🤜🤛 Neil Josten's Guide to Not Giving a Shit by Savagetoyolo (31k)

Neil Josten sighed as he looked at the black sky. His cigarette burned down to the filter as he took one drag out of it after letting it burn. He didn't want the nicotine, only the familier ache in his heart that came with the smell. The ghost of death and unfairness creeps up on him. Aka the one where Neil is a baddass but also kind of tired and just done with life and people. And Kevin's shit. The Moriyama's are dicks who Neil isn't afraid of and he killed his father before he went to Millport. I suck at summaries lol A lot of it is taken from canon, all unchanged content credit goes to Nora Sakavic

🤜🤛 it takes two (but you and i are one) by kairospy (14k)

Sometimes, not often — not enough for it to be concerning — he felt too much like him. Andrew noticed the very moment Nathaniel walked into the locker room. :*:*: Nathaniel Wesninski had been dormant for too long.

[the-fox-with-no-name]

I couldn't resist, sorry for the poor writing I'm improving as I go.

Head Canon Skit: Andrew’s Silent Intent. Part 1

Wymack: [holding up a blueprint] "Andrew, why am I getting calls from the engineering department about you asking them to build...this?" [points to a design that suspiciously resembles hidden blades from Assassin's Creed] "What exactly is this contraption supposed to be?"

Andrew: [deadpan] "It's exactly what it looks like. But don't worry, it’s none of your concern."

Wymack: [raising an eyebrow] "None of my concern? It’s my team, Andrew. You’re part of my concern, especially when you're commissioning someone to make... this contraption. What are you planning to do with these?"

Andrew: [calmly leaning back] "Mind your pay grade, Coach."

Wymack: [rubbing his temple] "I'm not even going to ask. But if you use that thing on the court...or anywhere near my team—"

Andrew: [cutting him off] "You'll never know about it."

After Wymack leaves, Andrew pulls out his phone, quickly typing out a message.

Andrew’s text to Neil: "Payment sorted?"

Neil’s response comes almost immediately.

Neil: "Got it."

Andrew smirks, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He leans back in his chair, glancing at the calendar on his wall. October 5th. Three weeks until Halloween.

With that, he goes back to his usual business, fully content with whatever chaotic plan he's concocted.

Later that day

Neil walks into the dorm after class, dropping his bag near the couch. He spots Nicky lounging with a controller in hand, completely absorbed in a game of Assassin’s Creed.

Nicky: [without looking up] "Hey Neil! You ever play this? It's so cool. The lore is deep. It’s all about this secret order of assassins, and they use these blades—" [pauses the game to wave his hand, mimicking the iconic wrist blade motion] "—that pop out from under their sleeves. It’s wild!"

Andrew, leaning against the counter, barely glances over. He clearly couldn’t care less.

Andrew: [flatly] "Not interested."

Nicky shrugs, going back to the game, but Neil’s attention shifts to Andrew. He watches as Andrew’s fingers subtly mimic the same wrist movement Nicky just made, almost absentmindedly, as if rehearsing something. Neil quirks an eyebrow, stifling a smile.

Andrew catches his glance but doesn’t acknowledge it. He just tilts his head slightly, as if daring Neil to comment.

Neil keeps his thoughts to himself, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He shakes his head, sitting down at the table to finish his homework, pretending not to notice while Andrew goes back to his own silent plotting.

Andrew's phone buzzed. With a single glance, he stood up and walked over to Neil. He didn’t bother slowing down, his hand outstretched, already expecting what was coming. Neil, without a word, pulled a stack of cash from his sleeve. Andrew snatched it without missing a beat and was out the door in seconds.

Neil returned to his homework, unfazed, as if the whole exchange hadn't just happened.

Nicky scoffed at Andrew leaving like that. Neil just smiled to himself.

Later that night, Andrew returned to the apartment. Everyone else was already in bed, except for Neil, who had fallen asleep at his desk again. Schoolwork was piling up, and Kevin had threatened to bench him if his grades started slipping.

Andrew walked over, noticing Neil still resting his head on the desk.

Neil: Did you see it? [Rubbing his eyes]

Andrew: [flatly with no expression] yes, it will be done next week. Although someone sold me out to coach so, Bill will get it done with no issue. 

Bill was a gearhead in Palmetto's engineering program, and he owed Andrew a favor. Andrew had already made sure to call it in.

One week later 

It’s late at night, and the dorm is eerily quiet as usual. Neil hears the soft sound of footsteps and the creak of a door. He sits up in bed, instantly alert, and sees Andrew slipping out. 

Curiosity especially when it comes to Andrew gets the better of him, and he follows, careful to keep his distance.

From the shadows, Neil watches as Andrew bends down to pick up a box left at the door. The label reads: “To Andrew. Happy cosplaying.” Neil’s eyes narrow in amusement. 

Andrew unsheathes one of his knives and without missing a beat, he slices through the tape and opens the box. He reaches in and pulls out a gleaming, mechanical gauntlet, its design unmistakable. 

As if sensing his presence, Andrew raises two fingers without turning around, motioning Neil to come over. Neil freezes for a second, realizing Andrew had known he was there the whole time. He walks over cautiously, his heart beating a little faster, but Andrew doesn't seem upset.

Andrew: [calmly, without looking up] "You're terrible at sneaking."

Neil stays silent, watching intently as Andrew slips the gauntlet over his forearm, adjusting the fit with practiced precision. He takes the knife he used to open the box and with a soft click, locks it into the gauntlet’s mechanism.

Andrew tests the motion, flexing his wrist. In a swift movement, the blade ejects, extending with a soft hiss. Neil can’t help but be impressed as Andrew stabs the box a few times, his strikes fluid and precise, just like an assassin from the game Nicky had been playing.

Andrew: [still focused on his work] "It’s not for cosplay."

Neil watches the blade retract with a soft click. Andrew finally glances at him, his expression unreadable.

Andrew: [deadpan] "Keep staring, and you’ll find out exactly how sharp this is."

Neil: [smirking slightly] "I’ll pass."

Andrew retracts the blade and stabs the box again, more out of habit than necessity. The blade moves with lethal accuracy with each strike 

Neil: “You’ve been practicing.”

Andrew: [calm, flat tone] “Some things don’t require practice. Just... intent.”

Neil leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Andrew’s movements. He stays quiet, his own thoughts churning, but he’s careful not to break the fragile stillness.

Andrew retracts the blade, letting the silence hang heavy between them for a moment.

Andrew: [finally turning, meeting Neil’s gaze] “What?”

Neil: [shrugs, unbothered] “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Andrew: [raising an eyebrow, with a hint of challenge] “Good luck.”

Andrew says nothing, continuing to toy with the gauntlet, but Neil catches the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. He steps back, giving Andrew his space, but now he knows he is enjoying the hell out of that. 

[stabbyfoxandrew]

My Aerie alarm is here! Hii! How was your week love? I hope you had fun <3

Either Vampdrew or Angel Neil would make my week a lot better ;)

Thank you so much <33

WIP Wednesday (9/25) | Vampire Andrew AU (Part 180)

Hearing footsteps trailing behind him has Neil's heart racing. But he's been chased and followed often enough to know it’s not Andrew behind him. Instead of the heavy clunk of thick-soled boots, it’s the barely-audible gait of someone trying not to be heard. Neil isn't sure who of his new teammates fit that bill, but he doesn’t stop until he gets outside. When he does, when he has a couple doors between himself and Andrew Minyard, Neil finally turns around to find Renee Walker behind him with a polite smile already on her face.

She raises her hand in a placating manner and that alone has Neil backing up an extra step. He supposedly has nothing to worry about. She’s the team's angel, according to Nicky. (Does that make Andrew the team's devil?) It doesn't matter. Neil trusts neither of them.

"Neil, I don't think it would be wise for you to ride back with Andrew's bunch. He and Kevin…” Renee makes a face. “Well, they're going to need to talk about these new developments. And I don't want you to get caught up in the crossfire. So, just wait for the rest of us. Matt's truck will be full but Dan and I, and you, we're pretty small. We could fit."

Neil gives her a look then shakes his head. "No. I'm alright. I know the way back and I have some energy to get out."

"Neil. You really should wait for us."

"I'll be fine. Bye." With that, Neil takes off across the parking lot with his mind racing. Sure, he'd spilled the beans to Andrew's lot a few hours ago. But the look on Andrew's face when Coach Wymack said the words aloud could've frozen hell. He wonders how the rest of the team is faring with the news, but it's not his fucking business. He doesn’t know them and they certainly don’t know him.

Andrew knows Neil isn't who he says he is. Andrew knows enough to be goddamn dangerous. And Neil's life is dangerous enough. Fuck. Stupid bastard goalie—

Neil stops at an intersection and braces himself on his knees, thinking for a moment. After several long breaths, he stands up straight. Andrew Minyard is not going to ruin his last chance at enjoying the rest of his sure-to-be short life. Neil won't let him. Even if it means playing Andrew's game... Neil will just have to learn the rules. Maybe write some new ones.

But first, he has to get back to the Tower and smoke half a pack of cigarettes. Maybe thumb through his binder again.

[otdiaftg]

The sound of a ball popping off the wall greets Neil as he steps through the back door and he follows the path to the inner court. Wymack is standing near the home bench, watching his players scrimmage and taking notes. He has his back to Neil and the noise filtering through the court vents help hide the soft pats of Neil's footsteps. Neil hangs back a safe distance and watches his teammates.

They looked so small when they were down three players, but they played with the ferocity of a larger team. Dan and Kevin were paired up on offense against the three backliners, and despite being outnumbered they put up a tireless fight. Kevin even managed to out-step both Nicky and Aaron a couple times for shots on goal. Andrew deflected all of them, but it took a couple shots before Neil realized what he was doing. Instead of clearing the balls back down the court like usual, he was firing them back at Kevin. More specifically, right at Kevin's feet. Kevin had to execute some pretty nimble footwork to avoid tripping over the ball. Andrew did the same to Dan when she finally bulled past Matt for a shot of her own. She sidestepped it, but barely, and Matt had to catch her when she stumbled. Wymack swore and turned to put his things down. As he twisted he spotted Neil, and he hesitated with his clipboard halfway to the bench. Neil expected a marching order back to the locker room. Instead Wymack snapped his fingers at Neil and jerked his thumb toward the court door. "Tell your pet psycho to knock it off before he cripples someone." "I don't think he'll listen to me," Neil said. "You and I both know he will. Now get."

Day: Thursday, January 4th Time: 7:35 PM EST

[dayurno]

merry christmas user dayurno!! i have some. bad news about my slice of life kerejean fic in that it is currently 400k+ words of silliness and i did not plan on ever sharing it bc it’s my little sandbox and i did not think anyone would ever be interested. but for u i will share some little fun facts about it.

jeremy does not realize for several weeks that they’re like. courting him. even though he’s literally falling in love with them and how they love each other. kevjean are idiots and think they’re being super clear but jeremy is losing his mind. he’s a 23 year old being taken on dates by successful rich kevjean like sweating and thinking they don’t want to be more than friends with benefits with him. they are as obsessed with him as he is of them and are freaks who are already planning to bring him home to wymack. it’s all silly really.

on the kevjean side, they’ve been together on and off since 13 and are now 28. kevin got out of the nest at 14 bc Riko broke his hand early but he refused to lose contact with jean (he meets neil again earlier and neil helps him grow braver :3). they get jean out of the nest when he’s 20. the Moriyama’s are uh. Disenfranchised shortly after and their lives are their own. jean is a successful artist/consultant and kevin cannot play exy due to his hand being hurt again. he makes it work by participating in the Exy world and has mostly come to terms with it. they are madly in love and know everything about each other, and other than their constant bickering, are practically One Codependent Unit when they’re in the same country bc if they CAN be side by side they will not be spotted alone. jean cooks and kevin makes them drinks and they fight over who pays for expensive dinners or has to tell their friends they will NOT be attending whatever event bc they don’t want to leave the house. and this is so long i APOLOGIZE the world is vast and silly and this only scratches the surface. there was no need for this tangent. but yes…… domestic kevjean inviting in oblivious jeremy knox…. very special to me indeed

ANIONFVNNNNNNNNN ive been waiting for me to be less busy with holidays and such to write an answer and aiaiiaii I think i hauve covid.... i understand the idea of a fic you write for yourself in your little sandbox but if you ever feel like sharing this know i'd go INSANE for it okay. i'd LOVE it i'd start barking in your comment sections i'd really make a fool of myself so consider it!!!! at least a little bit!!!! please and thank you

TOGETHER SINCE THEY WERE 13........... i'm losing my mind i fucking. adore domestic kevjean and i absolutely adore adore adore the idea of them being on and off since they were so young, literally womb to tomb sweethearts, life partners in every way......... I'M SICK I'M ILL I REALLY AM the idea of them having their house and their friends who invite them to dinner parties and their favorite restaurants and their- (passes out). they're really 'our songs, ours films, united we stand / our country, guess it was a lawless land / quiet my fears with the touch of your hand' but like. happy version. SORRY THIS IS REALLY MAKING ME DELIRIOUS..... save me domestic kevjean save me save me teenage dream turned reality kevjean

AND THEN THE TROPE INVERSION OF JEREMY BEING THE ONE INVITED INTO THEIR RELATIONSHIP...... and i well (hides behind hand fan) i am known to have enjoyed a little age gap in my time.... jeremy's milfs..... being courted by this rich famous couple and not knowing where to stand... LIVING THE Y/N LIFE. anon. grabs your little cheeks. you have to post this okay. you have to revolutionize how kerejean is done so i can follow in your footsteps. okay? please

[aquared46]

Breaking, Entering and Baking

Rating: M

Relationship: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard

Warning: Alcohol Use

Neil kept his distance, head tilted as he regarded Andrew. “Coach is gone until later tonight.”

Andrew didn’t move.

“Let’s break in.”

OR

Andrew has a bad week and Neil helps.

The dorm was empty and blessedly quiet, the rest of the Foxes emptied out for afternoon practice. Under normal circumstances, Andrew would’ve gone and simply not performed, but Kevin was getting on his nerves with all his complaining, so he refused to go at all.

Kevin only redoubled his complaints when Neil backed Andrew, excusing him from practice. Dan was away at a conference with Wymack, leaving him in charge.

Andrew didn’t so much as glance in Neil’s direction, tossing him the Maserati keys before climbing back into bed fully clothed.

They left soon afterward, so Andrew closed his eyes and tried to catch up on some much-needed and extremely elusive sleep. He pressed his back against the wall, fingers tucked into one of his armbands, brushing against the handle of a knife. Every time he closed his eyes, he sensed a minute shift of weight on the bed, so he opened them again for assurance that it was only his imagination. Hypervigilance sometimes turned his senses against him. The creak of old pipes under the floor could’ve been footsteps, but he had to watch and make sure. He pressed his nose into his own pillow, inhaling the sharp scent of pine that helped him ground himself, but he couldn’t seem to erase the acidic stench that clung inside his nostrils.

Bad days he was used to. Bad weeks weren’t uncommon, but were certainly more frustrating to deal with. This was the worst one he had in a while.

He spent hours staring across the room, watching as it darkened and the day carried on. Amber streams of light were filtering through the blinds when a key turned in the lock to the front door.

Andrew stiffened. Logically, based on the time, he knew it was likely to be Kevin and Neil coming back from practice. However, he couldn’t relax until he saw Neil’s mop of auburn hair, slight frame and collection of scars.

Kevin was nowhere to be seen.

Neil kept his distance, head tilted as he regarded Andrew. “Coach is gone until later tonight.”

Andrew didn’t move.

“Let’s break in.” He pulled a pair of lockpicks out of his pocket for Andrew’s pursual.

Andrew’s body was made of sludge as he hauled himself up, kicking his legs free of the suffocating blankets. He didn’t bother changing out of his sweaty clothes. He just threw on a hoodie and followed Neil down to the Maserati, climbing into the passenger seat before Neil could ask whether or not he wanted to drive.

Even though he wasn’t at the wheel, the purr of the engine was like a balm for his mind, the subtle vibrating of the seat helping ground him. Neil had his hand on the gearshift. Andrew folded his hand over Neil’s, and the idiot just smiled and flexed his hand under Andrew’s before relaxing. Never mind the fact that Andrew committed homicide in a vehicle already once before; Neil trusted him. It was addicting as it was annoying.

Memories still painted the back of Andrew’s eyelids, so he watched Neil instead. It was easier to stay in the present when he had something to focus on. What could he see? Neil’s unique auburn hair, the ends still damaged from chronic dying. The roots were much healthier and Andrew couldn’t wait to know what Neil’s hair felt like when it completely grew out. What could he feel? The scars on the back of Neil’s hand, as familiar as Andrew’s own. He rubbed his thumb across one of the burns, recommitting it to memory. What could he smell? The crappy body wash Neil always chose, which Andrew pretended to hate, but secretly liked. It wasn’t so much that the scent was good, but that Neil used it so frequently that Andrew associated it with him by default. What could he hear? The purr of the Maserati and the faint sound of music coming from the speakers. Neil’s finger tapped the beat on the steering wheel.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up to Wymack’s. Neil parked the car and took some mysterious shopping bags out of the trunk. He waited patiently for Andrew to painstakingly peel himself out before leading the way. The lockpicks glinted between his fingers as he knelt in front of the door, biting his lip as he went to work.

Andrew was used to picking Wymack’s lock. He knew exactly where to apply pressure and when to twist. However, it was still satisfying to watch Neil pick it within a minute, despite being unfamiliar. Grudgingly, Andrew had to admitted Neil was probably better at it than he was, since it took Andrew almost five minutes on his first attempt. Although, that was years ago.

Neil set the bags in the kitchen while Andrew made a beeline for where he knew Wymack kept the liquor. It didn’t feel right to break in and not steal some. It was practically his MO. Andrew located a bottle of Johnnie Walker and opened it up, not bothering to find a glass. He drank right from the bottle as he wandered back into the kitchen, finding Neil had unpacked his bags. He was scouring Wymack’s cupboards, an array of mixing bowls and pans covering the countertops.

Judging from the ingredients and the pan Neil finally settled on, he was making brownies. Andrew liked to put on baking programs when he was particularly bored, but Neil didn’t seem to have much interest in them. He definitely didn’t pay attention enough to learn anything.

Yet there he was, pulling out Wymack’s mismatched and ancient measuring cups with a focused expression. He had a crumbled piece of paper that he flattened out the best he could on the counter. He squinted at it before going and measuring ingredients.

Andrew watched Neil fail to mix the dry ingredients together, completely missing scraping the bottom of the bowl and managing to get flour and cocoa powder all over his shirt in the process. He nudged Neil aside with his hip and shoved the bottle of whiskey in Neil’s hands instead.

“Have you never baked before?”

Neil shrugged. He took a swig of the bottle, his throat bobbing. He dusted off his shirt onto Wymack’s floor. “Frying bacon and eggs is about the limits of my experiences. And beans on toast, but I don’t think that counts as cooking.”

“And cooking is not the same as baking,” Andrew said.

“It’s making food. I don’t really see the difference at all.”

“Then sit down and quit ruining the brownies.”

“I can at least preheat the oven.” He turned away momentarily to do it.

“I’m surprised you even know what that is.”

Neil ignored Andrew and measured out the wet ingredients, using enough precision that Andrew didn’t bother telling him to leave it alone. He also passed them over to Andrew for mixing, thankfully conscious that he was useless at it.

Andrew was hardly amused to see Neil sneaking a finger-full of batter as Andrew mixed in chocolate chips. “You’re going to get food poisoning.”

“I’ve had worse things and been just fine,” Neil said. “My stomach is used to questionable food.”

“But not Kevin’s smoothies.”

Neil made a face. “Vegetables.”

Andrew spooned the mixture into the pan after smearing it with a copious amount of butter. His hands were covered in chocolate batter and he couldn’t help but lick it off one of his fingers, grudgingly admitting that whatever recipe Neil found was good.

Since Neil’s hands were clean, he put the pan in the oven and checked the time. “And here I thought you were worried about food poisoning,” he said.

“I’m not a coward.” Andrew licked the chocolate off another finger.

Neil hummed, gaze drifting across Andrew’s fingers before landing on his mouth. He wet his lips and Andrew could practically hear the thoughts going through his head. Andrew stepped closer, crowding Neil against the counter. Neil’s breath hitched as Andrew cupped his jaw, pressing his thumb against his lips.

Neil met Andrew’s eyes, then relaxed his jaw. Andrew slid his thumb into Neil’s mouth, breath catching as Neil tentatively ran his tongue over it and sucked. Neil groaned and Andrew’s hold on his jaw tightened as he licked the chocolate batter from Andrew’s thumb, then kept going even once it was all gone.

Andrew shuddered, pulling his thumb out of Neil’s mouth, ignoring the way it immediately curled into a smile. He pressed his lips against Neil’s jaw, kissing away the smears of chocolate left by his hand. Neil, always so responsive, turned to bare his throat.

Once Andrew could no longer stand having sticky hands, he pulled back, Neil’s lips swollen from their kisses, his eyes dazed. He straightened when Andrew pulled back, lifting the bottle of whiskey to take another drink. Andrew scrubbed his hands clean, then pinned Neil back against the counter to lick the taste from his mouth.

An indiscernible amount of time later, Neil cursed and wriggled away to pull the slightly-burnt brownies out from the oven.

“Should’ve set a timer,” Andrew said.

“Don’t think Wymack’s oven has one.” Neil scraped the burnt edges of the brownies. “I think these are salvageable.”

Andrew took some bowls out, while Neil retrieved some ice cream from the freezer. It was Andrew’s favourite brand and some type of butterscotch flavour he had yet to try because he almost always got something with chocolate.

 Neil chewed on one of the burnt edges that Andrew personally believed belonged in the garbage. “I think I prefer these actually.”

“You disgust me.” Andrew said, when in actuality, he wanted to devour him. It wasn’t fair how attractive he looked with flour on his shirt and smear of chocolate still by his ear. His eyes were dancing with amusement, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He was smiling all too knowingly.

Andrew snagged a finger into a beltloop and dragged him closer to kiss him one more time.

They ate their brownies at the counter, ice cream melting because they hadn’t bothered to let them cool. There was a massacre in the pan, burnt edges cut off jaggedly and brownies haphazardly cut and scooped out with a spoon.

Still, it was delicious and Andrew burned his mouth with his eagerness. They passed the bottle between them and drank. He shifted close enough to Neil that their elbows brushed. Something in him lightened. The day was still bad. He was still exhausted and his memories were hiding just around the corner. However, it was better, just a little. Part of him felt relieved for being so known by Neil that he could do this for him. Another part of him hated it.

Andrew was halfway through his second serving when a key slotted into the front door and it opened.

“What the hell are you shitheads doing here?” Wymack eyed the disaster that was the kitchen.

“Hey, Coach,” Neil said. “There’s still some brownies left if you want them.”

Wymack frowned as he spotted the brownies, then glanced between the two of them. It certainly wasn’t the first time Andrew broke in while having a bad day, so he pointed an accusing finger at Neil.

“You’re cleaning this up,” Wymack said to Neil.

“Yes, Coach.”

Wymack muttered under his breath as he went to drop his travel bag off in his bedroom. He came back moments later and got himself a bowl, as well as a glass and an unopened bottle of whiskey.

Andrew tuned them out as Neil asked Wymack about his travels and the conference. Andrew was content to let the calm tone of their voices wash over him, the taste of chocolate on his tongue, the slightly stale smell of Wymack’s kitchen overtaken by fresh baking, the feeling of Neil’s warm body at his side, the sharp scent of alcohol as he drank from the bottle.

Once this was over, it was a gamble whether or not Andrew’s memories would claw their way back to the forefront of his mind. But in that moment, he was grounded and grateful for the respite. He hoped he would be better the following day, but even if he wasn’t, he knew Neil would help him brave it.

[exy-shmexy]

I started thinking about this again and now I'm thinking about an AU where Bee lives in a quiet little neighborhood on the edge of town in your typical blue white picket fence house which is where the twins grow up.

The twins are often up to no good (never in a harmful way. They are thirteen, they are allowed to do mischief), and become closer to each other with each passing day, but she wouldn't give it up for anything. It's her own little family, and she loves watching them grow up together.

One day, during the beginning of Summer, they get new neighbors in the cream yellow house right next door. The Wymacks are a family of four, David, Abby and their two sons.

Andrew and Aaron watch them unload the moving truck from their perch on the windowsill of Andrew's bedroom. Aaron is happy about having new neighbors their own age, but Andrew watches and observes with quiet curiosity. Bee, as the school's counselor who thus gets inside info before everyone else, has told the twins David Wymack would be their new middle school Exy coach to replace the previous one who retired and Abby would be their new nurse.

When Bee finds them spying on them a couple hours after their arrival, she gently scolds them and tells them they'll go bring them a welcome basket the next day to let them settle, which is exactly what they do.

They show up at the Wymacks' doorstep with a basket full of freshly-baked muffins minus one because Andrew stole it when it was sitting on the counter to cool off without anyone catching him until Aaron pointed out he had crumbs on the corner of his mouth to introduce themselves. Andrew has put on his best grumpy face. It's Abby who opens the door. She instantly smiles brightly at the three of them, thanking Bee profusely for the welcome basket. She welcomes them in, apologizing for the mess all around them, which makes Bee laugh because "You just moved in! No need to apologize for anything". Bee immediately introduces Aaron and Andrew. Aaron says a shy hello while Andrew stays quiet and scowls. Abby isn't deterred. She offers them some candies and Andrew thinks maybe she isn't so bad after all.

Which is when there is a loud shriek coming from upstairs, quickly followed by thundering footsteps coming down the stairs into the kitchen. There, the two boys appear. They couldn't be more different from each other, which Andrew was quick to note the previous day. While one is rather tall, with dark brown air and green eyes, the other is much shorter, has bright auburn hair and very bright blue eyes filled with mischief. It is the former who plants himself in front of Abby and cries that his brother—Neil, apparently—stole all his Exy cards to hide them under his bed. Neil, outraged, says that he did not such thing, which results in the other boy swinging on his heels to demand how they found themselves there then, only for Neil to retort maybe they got tired of seeing his stupid face.

Before his brother can open his mouth again, Neil turns to the guests as if only now noticing they are here, says "hi I'm Neil," then darts away back to his bedroom where a very clear locking sound indicates he wants nothing more to do with any of them for now. Abby turns to her son—Kevin—to tell him they'll solve this later. She shows him the muffin basket. Kevin scowls at it then grabs one before he turns around to say hi to Bee and the twins.

That same evening, while Andrew is outside reading a book in the privacy of the treehouse to the light of the strings of fairylights haphazardly tacked up above his head while Bee and Aaron are watching a show inside together, Andrew hears a rustling sound coming from outside. He decides to shrug it off, thinking it's probably just a raccoon foraging for food in the bush. He goes back to his paragraph only to see a crown of red curls peeking up from the treehouse's entrance.

He blinks.

Neil blinks.

"You're trespassing," Andrew says simply, which seems to be enough encouragement for Neil to fully climb the ladder and crouch inside the treehouse.

Neil produces a fat stack of trading cards held together with a thick elastic band from the pocket of his hoodie. "I need to hide these somewhere."

Andrew looks down at his hand, wondering why the redhead absolutely wants to keep these away from Kevin so much. He wrinkles his nose. "Go find somewhere else."

"It's the perfect spot."

"Why is that?"

"Because he'll never think to look for them here."

Andrew can barely believe the audacity of this boy. He shouldn't be here. Andrew doesn't even know how he climbed the fence separating their houses, let alone how he went through the thick bushes that definitely need to be pruned. Andrew narrows his eyes. Why would he help him? He doesn't even know him. Andrew clicks his tongue, then flatly points at the tiny bookshelf overflowing with fantasy novels. "Put them between the books there."

Neil grins. He scrambles on all four to push the books around to hide all the cards there. Once done, he sits down cross-legged to admire his work. Then he turns back to Andrew. "What are you reading?"

"Percy Jackson."

Neil scoots closer. "Oh, what is it about?"

Andrew blinks. How could he not know about Percy Jackson? He reaches to his left and practically tosses the first book of the series at Neil's face. "Find out for yourself."

Neil huffs out a mildly offended grumble, but he takes the book to read the first few pages. Silence settles between them as Andrew goes back to his own book—the fourth book in the series. It's obviously a reread—while Neil devours the first one.

This is how most of the twins' days are spent with the Wymack brothers, either playing video games in the Wymacks' basement, practicing Exy moves in their backyard or playing board games inside the treehouse. In the evenings, though, Andrew often sneaks out of the house to meet Neil at the treehouse and spend a couple hours together. They either talk, scheme on where to hide the Exy cards next or read on the bean bags Bee got for the whole group after she understood they quickly grew closer together.

Andrew soon finds out it becomes his favorite time of the day, and he is now looking forward to what the school year with the Wymack siblings will bring.

Bee adopting the twinyards when they are toddlers so they both grow up in a healthy environment and the only times she needs to worry about them is when they grow a bit older and the house is suspiciously silent for a suspiciously long amount of time

[mmxxviii]

sometimes i wonder if kayleigh day would have been as good of a mom as the fandom likes to imagine her. bc yes wymack is amazing and he remembers her fondly, and yes she created exy, but also she created exy with tetsuji. unless she was totally clueless, i find it hard to believe that she built an entire sport and had no idea that the other founder was from a mafia family. also, barring influence from tetsuji or one of the other moriyamas, kayleigh gave guardianship of kevin to tetsuji over his legitimate father, who we all know is a pretty good guy. i know we like to imagine that she was a wonderful woman who loved kevin immensely, but i think it’s far more likely that she knew what was going on and didn’t care. not that she didn’t love kevin, i think she loved him a lot, i just also think that maybe she was a little obsessive about exy as well.

[thejostenator]

The Foxhole Cinema: Chapter Fifteen

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Neil sat on the couch, nodding every now and then as Nicky raved about his day. He'd been sitting through hours of this and it was wearing pretty thin by this point. His mother had taught him how to tune out everything but essential information, so, naturally, he’d taken in very little of the tale. He'd zoned out mere minutes into Nicky’s epic retelling, which came complete with hand motions and infuriating voices that Nicky swore were different but were really all variations on the same strange German accent.

He found himself hoping that the constant stream of noise pouring from Nicky’s mouth like blood from a wound not yet stitched was an effect of the new routine- after all, Neil was a fresh face, someone new to talk to. If Nicky stayed on like this forever, Neil might have to borrow one of Andrew’s knives and cut out his tongue.

He tuned back into the conversation, if you could even call it that, when he realised Nicky was staring intensely at him as if he was waiting for the answer to a question.

“What did you say?” Neil asked, and at Nicky’s offended look, added, “You were talking too fast- I couldn’t pick apart the words. I heard ahgdfsghfgdhfzsdlfghszdjlkgfhjkszdfg, but that was about all.”

Andrew snorted and Neil jolted in surprise. He’d been so silent that Neil had almost forgotten he was there. Somehow, Andrew had mastered the art of turning pages without making a sound, something Neil had never gotten the hang of well enough for his liking. After his Father caught him reading past lights-out twice, he’d stopped trying.

He removed his hand from where it had unconsciously drifted to his shoulder- beneath the fabric of his shirt lay the puckered red scar and bumpy red skin left by a hot iron swung through the air at him. It had never healed quite the way he’d hoped it would, but it had done exactly what Nathan had wanted. The problem was, it had done it too well.

Sure, it had been the last time he’d broken one of his Father’s rules, but it was also the last time he’d viewed him without careful calculation, the last time that careful innocence had reared its drowsy head before it was pushed back beneath the depths. His Father had chased it away, and in doing so, created the monster Neil saw when he looked at his true features in the mirror. That had been the day that Neil had started measuring the distance between him and his Father, the day where he finally tuned into his wickedness. Neil could never trust anything his Father said or did ever again, and all Nathan’s hopes for having him as an heir were flushed away. How could someone follow in your footsteps if the very sight of them, embedded in the ground by steel boots, was physically repulsive?

Nicky smiled nervously at Andrew before turning back to Neil.

“I asked why Allison was in such a huff.” He said slowly, sounding out the words like Neil was some exotic animal. Great- they’d gone from one extreme to the other. “Get it that time?”

Neil nodded, and Nicky looked relieved.

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” Neil asked. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to ask me when you came in, before the Epic Ballad of your life and times?”

“I meant to ask earlier, but I got distracted,” Nicky admitted with a cheery grin and a shrug, “but when I got to that point in my story it reminded me. You did understand the story, right?”

“Yes,” Neil lied, and then made an educated guess based on what he already knew about Nicky from their meeting the day before, “Grumpy customers, phone call with Erik etc…”

Nicky somehow looked even more relieved, like a puppy that had been handed a treat, or a drowning person thrown a lifeline.

“You did understand!” He beamed.

“Yes,” Neil grimaced. "Once again, new, not stupid. Allison was pissy because Wymack kicked her out before she could hear the gossip."

It was a simplified retelling, lacking Nicky’s flair for the dramatic, but it would do.

“That bitch,” Nicky sighed fondly, flopping backwards. “What gossip was there?”

“You’re just as bad as her,” Andrew said. “You’ll find out soon enough since Wymack is calling his Emergency Team Meeting in a few minutes.

“But what if I want to find out now, Andrew?” Nicky whined. “What then?”

“Then you’re out of luck,” Andrew said, snapping his book closed and sweeping from the room. Renee took his place in the room, followed by Aaron and Kevin, then Allison.

“Spoilsport,” Nicky groaned at the door, leaving Kevin looking confused, before turning to Neil. “Now he’s gone, are you going to spill the beans?”

“No,” Neil said.

“Neil, apple of my eye,” Nicky said, placing his arm over Neil’s shoulders, “What would I have to do to get you to talk?”

“Stop treating me like a pet, for one,” Neil snapped, shaking off Nicky’s arm and rising from the couch in one sharp motion, “You all can. I’m not some exotic animal here to be prodded, poked and pampered. I don’t need fancy clothes to dress up in or trinkets, whistles and bells. I don’t need friends, and I’m not a fucking plant, you don’t need to talk to me to make me grow.”

“Neil-” Renee started softly.

“No,” Neil snapped, cutting her off at the chase. From the corner of his eye, he saw Andrew step into the room. He no longer had the book. “It’s my turn to talk now, and you are going to listen. I am not some puzzle for you to put together and I don’t need people prying in my business, trying to figure out my sexuality, triggers and loose ends, to piece me together like a thousand-piece puzzle.”

“You can say Andrew,” Aaron scoffed, “It’s okay.”

Neil rounded on him, and when Aaron physically flinched from the fury in his glare, he knew it was his Father’s expression on his face. “I’m not just talking about Andrew! This is the first time you’ve willingly spoken to me the entire time I’ve been here. You didn’t even open your mouth when you took me to the lost property, the first thing you’ve said is an attack on one of the people on your side, and you have the gall to think I'm not talking about you too? You fucking hypocrite.”

Aaron shifted in his seat. At least he had the good grace to look uncomfortable.

“I’m talking about you all,” Neil continued, “and I get it, I really do, the need to dump your mistakes and idiosyncrasies on someone else, but now is not the time to do it.”

“That I can agree with,” came Wymack’s voice from where he stood in the doorway, flanked by Matt, Dan, and another girl Neil had to assume was Katelyn. “You all need to own your shit and stay on top of everything.”

“Oh Coach,” Andrew said, “When have you ever known Aaron to own his shit?”

Dan and Matt shuffled in and sat around Renee, steering clear of Andrew and his lot. The Monsters.

“I don’t care if you’ve been miserable messes for every second of your lives so far,” Wymack growled, “That all needs to change now, because, and bear in mind I’m not one for exaggerating, we have literally made enemies of the Yakuza.”

The reactions were immediate- looks of pure shock on Dan and Matt’s face, resignation on Kevin’s, wide-eyed horror on Nicky’s. On Allison’s, a sneer that made it clear she thought it was some sort of prank. At least, she did until she looked down at Renee and saw the look on her face- the same resignation as on Kevin's.

Allison twitched, breathed deeply through her nose, then rose in a way that left her looming over the entire room. Her voice came out clipped and heavy with rage when she looked dead at Andrew and said, “Monster. What did you do?”

[tedisnotdead]

The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.  

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.  

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.  

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.  

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.  

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.  

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.  

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.  

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.  

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.  

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

[eponinemylove]

Headcanons about the Andrew( and the foxes) figuring out some of the fucked up things Neil’s mom did. Like I’ve always had a head canon that she is the reason he says he’s fine all the time

for sure! I have a lot of feelings about Mary Hartford. I want to say that if the conversation does ever manage to come up, Neil would immediately jump to his mother’s defense. We see everything she did through his memories of her, and while we can recognize it as abuse, Neil still thinks of her fondly. She was the only family he really had, and in his eyes, everything she did was out of necessity, if not love (CW: abuse)

(side note, I’ve briefly talked about aaron’s reaction before as part of a different post, and I stand by that. I’ve also brushed upon the subject of Mary and Neil being “fine” when I did a sort of sickfic hc!)

let me just start by saying how awful this news would be for the foxes. Like, it’s awful in general because what she did was fucked up, but their poor hearts… They managed the Nest. They managed Baltimore. They managed Drake (although that was Andrew’s past not Neil’s, they were still there for the murder and everything that followed). They have been through heartbreak after heartbreak for this kid who not only went through these things but thought, on some level, that he deserved them. So they really can’t take finding out that his mother—who Neil openly condones—is also one of his ghosts. They can’t take finding out that she’s partly the reason why he doesn’t swing, why he can’t trust, why he runs and hides and lies, why he doesn’t think he can have this. And if that wasn’t hard enough, to find out that Neil thinks this is okay, that this is fine—it’s too much to handle.

Andrew’s first reaction, predictably, is murder. This doesn’t quite work out for him, as Mary’s already dead, but the urge he feels to drain the life from her himself is frankly concerning. The second the words are leaving Neil’s mouth, the second all his suspicions are confirmed (because let’s be real, Andrew knew someone had hurt Neil, and his father had been too many steps behind him to cause that much damage), he sees red. Full on, knives out, burning rage. He’s shaking with it. You can tell he’s feeling an emotion, because he’s not grumbling about anything. He’s gone into quiet rage, the dangerous kind, in which he silently plots all the ways he can gruesomely arrange your departure from existence.

for a split second, the upperclassmen think that his anger is directed at Neil, and they subtly move in to block him from Andrew’s war path. This works out well for no one, because Andrew needs Neil in his line of sight right now to know he’s safe and here, and anyone who even thinks of touching this boy after what he’s just confessed to happening to him is getting stabbed. Repeatedly. It’s not their fault for assuming, though. They saw what happened with him and Aaron after this sort of thing, and they just want to shield Neil from that fallout. He’s been through enough

The only thing that manages to calm him down even somewhat is Neil himself. He holds Andrew’s gaze, doesn’t hide under it. He looks him straight in the eye. He is fine, now. He isn’t hurt. He’s with Andrew, and Andrew is going to keep him safe, and Mary is dead, and there’s nothing for them to fight anymore.

except there is, there is, because Neil is stupid. Neil is an idiot who doesn’t know the meaning of the word fine, who has never been fine a day in his life. this was never okay. he’s worse than Aaron, because at least Aaron came to his senses eventually. but Neil, even after everything, is still standing there, defending her. it makes his blood boil. 140%. 170. 200.

Later, Andrew has to physically restrain himself from pulling him into a bruising kiss. He makes a tangible effort to be as gentle with Neil as he can, because he refuses to show him that love should be rough. It shouldn’t. He holds Neil’s hand and kisses his knuckles, runs his hands softly through his hair. He shows him all the way touches should feel when coming from someone you trust. Neil thinks it isn’t necessary but he accepts it with a stuttering heart anyway. His hands shake.

Aaron is seething, but for an entirely different reason. He’s furious, because how does Neil not realize that they’re the exact same? Neil gave him so much shit when he was upset over his mother, but now he has the audacity to stand here and spout this crap? The only thing holding him back from beating the shit out of Josten himself is Andrew’s presence, radiating wrath from beside him. If he took a step in the wrong direction, his brother might genuinely kill him this time. It doesn’t matter. Neil went on and on and on about how Andrew was protecting him, how his mother was not someone who loved him but someone who hurt him, and how he should be glad she’s gone. And… and then this? No. No. Neil doesn’t get to love his mother after that. Mary hit him. She beat him to a pulp herself, nevermind what she said she was protecting him from. He wasn’t allowed to have friends, to talk to people, to go outside. He wasn’t allowed to speak. He’d had to keep his head down. Yeah, it sounds familiar. It sounds like Aaron’s quiet footsteps around the house, hoping to god he wouldn’t wake up Tilda. It sounds like him trying not to make himself seen when she came home after a night of using, like ducking his head and not meeting the eyes of her or anyone she brought home. It sounds like her fists on him when she was in one of her moods. It sounds really fucking familiar, and if Neil thinks he’s going to drop this, he is dead wrong.

Neil did not leave well enough alone when it was Aaron. He would not stop rubbing salt on the wound. And it hurt, a lot, but now Aaron is going to do the same. Not just for petty vengeance. Not just because Neil is a dick and this is payback. But because it helped. Aaron and Andrew are not on the same page about the way they feel, but they are about what to do next. Priority one is make sure Neil moves on, make sure he recognizes why Mary was wrong, and why it will never happen again, as long as any of the foxes have a say in it. 

Matt and Nicky have the exact same reaction, which to immediately have their heart shattered. They’re in tears. Matt cares about Neil so, so much, and I know the fandom recognizes this, but I don’t know if people realize how deeply Nicky cares, too. It’s more than just cracking jokes; Neil is one of Nicky’s best friends. They’re going to make damn sure that Neil knows they will love him unconditionally, and that their love does not come heavy-handed. They will support him through this, even if they hate Mary for everything she had conditioned into him. Already they’re planning what they can do to get his mind off of this and get him smiling again as soon as possible. Nicky will probably push Neil harder than Matt, and it will probably be the wrong thing to do, but he’s trying so hard. He’s done this before, with Andrew and Aaron, and as heartbreaking as it was, he continues to do it because he loves them. And he loves Neil, too. Both Matt and Nicky already have adoption papers at the ready, and at this point they’re going to forge the signatures, consequences be damned, if it means Neil gets a happy life. 

Kevin doesn’t have much to say about it when he finds out. I imagine he handles it with all of his usual finesse and sensitivity, which is none. He probably, not too gently, points out that Mary had a job to keep him safe from harm, all harm, and failed spectacularly at it. It’s not exactly helpful, but he does have a point. And when he get Neil alone, he offers to talk to him about it. He may not have been through the same thing, but he’s been through something similar enough. He had no family at the Nest, but at the same time they were the only ones he had, and they weren’t exactly gentle with him at the best of times. Riko and the Master weren’t Mary, but... they weren’t all that different, either. Like everything else, Kevin is there if he needs him. 

Dan and Allison stare him down. They sympathize, they do, because this is awful, but they are not going to give him an inch. They don’t have time to coddle his feelings about his mother, and god help him if they hear an “I’m fine” fall from his lips. They’ll hold him, if he lets them, and they’ll be as soft and gentle as he needs, but they won’t give in to this. They aren’t going to pretend that he’s right–he’s not. HIs mother wasn’t what he remembers. She’s a complicated character. They’re not calling her evil; maybe she did what she had to, and maybe it was for the best. But it wasn’t right. They are steadfast in that. It wasn’t right. Neil can accept that when he’s ready, and when he does they will be there for him, taking care of him in their unassuming way so that he doesn’t feel like they’re walking on eggshells. He’s so grateful to have them. Grateful that they don’t push, but don’t give in either. Some of the strongest people he’s known…

Renee is the one who actually talks him through it. All the others are ready with their pitchforks, about to burn Mary at the stake, but she understands. She walks with him through everything, the good and the bad, and lets him come to his own conclusion. She listens to him when he feels like talking about what is was like, and talks about her own mother when he doesn’t. She shows him, subtly, what a parental figure is supposed to look like through her own stories. Lets him realize that sometimes the people who care don’t get it right, but that there are still others who love you, and that love doesn’t have to come with pain. 

Bonus:

(Ik you didn’t ask, and this is probably too long already, but) Wymack and Abby find out about this indirectly, likely through either Andrew or Matt. Wymack had known from the beginning this would have been the case, but he’d had no idea it had come from his mother. It hurts him, that no one had ever been careful with Neil the way he needed. He doesn’t realize that he had been, though. Wymack hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t made himself big in front of Neil. He had been careful to keep his anger far, far away and had always been there when Neil needed him. Wymack is his true father. Or mother. Or whatever. 

Abby does what she does with Aaron: she gives him space. She knows that he’s probably never seen a woman in a comforting light before, and she waits to make sure that he’s okay with her presence before she gets anywhere near close to him. She lets him come to her, and, like Wymack, makes sure Neil knows that if she ever gets frustrated, that she would never take it out on him. They start the very slow process of showing Neil what it is like to be loved and cared for by someone who wants only to see you happy. Neil loves his family so, so much. He would choose them a thousand times over. 

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

Picture Kevin, three years old, running after his mother on awkward too-short legs in the park across the street from their home.  She laughs and grabs his little hands, swooping him off the ground in a great arc and he squeals and kicks his feet and shouts, “Again, mummy, again!”  He seems to glow in the sun, and Kayleigh had never thought that love could be like this, something so big and all-encompassing it feels like pain.

Picture Kevin, four years old, already learning to read; at first Kayleigh thought it was memorization of his favorite books, but one day at the library he finds a book with a frog and a toad and he sounds out words on his own.  Her heart swells with pride, and she kisses him on the top of his head and brushes back his silky hair and the frog and toad book finds its way home with them.

Picture Kevin, five years old, coming home from school bubbling with excitement day after day.  “I made a new friend, mummy.”  “Did you know that a long time ago Ireland was covered with ice, mummy?  And there were furry el-fants and huge deers and all kinda stuff that’s gone stinked now.”  “We drew today and I drew you and me and we were playing exy and the teacher said it was really really good.”  “I know maths now, mummy.  So much maths.”  After school he pulls out his legos and starts adding to the giant structure that has taken over one corner of their living room.  “It’s a castle, mummy.  It’s s’posed to be big.”

Picture Kevin, six years old, leading Kayleigh through the streets from shop to shop.  Gravely saying hello to the shop owners, who smothered their smiles and exchanged looks with Kayleigh over Kevin’s head.  He talked about fish to the grocer and dinosaurs to the bookstore cashier and space to the pharmacist and then ran into the green to kick a ball around with some kids from school.  “I like football okay, mum, but it’s not as much fun as exy.”  They put on music in the car and he sings along, not caring if he’s in tune, just singing for the pure joy of it.  Kayleigh wonders when she started becoming afraid of people who couldn’t even hear her; how many years had it been since she hadn’t cared what anybody thought?  She turns up the music and sings along too.

Picture Kevin, seven years old, in tiny exy gear, playing in little league.  He throws himself into it with abandon; sometimes the ball ends up in the little stands set up around the pint-sized court; sometimes he releases too late and it just bounces sadly off the ground; once it ricocheted off the low wall and whacked him in the shoulder.  He rubbed at it, glaring at the offending ball, but two seconds later he was laughing and leaping back into the fray.  He knocked a defender over, then stopped to extend a hand to help him up, and they hugged it out while someone else scored.  Afterwards the defender went out with them for pizza and they talked about space robots for a solid hour until Kayleigh was ready to scream.

Picture Kevin, eight years old.  Somber.  Lost.  Riko, promising to be his friend, and Kevin swallowing against the lump in his throat and nodding.  Riko, a dark-eyed island in the sea of grief.

Picture Kevin, nine years old.  Riko made good on his promise; he’s Kevin’s friend, his only friend; his brother, in all but genetics.  Kevin trains, and he doesn’t make mistaken throws anymore.  His footwork is sure.  Tetsuji praises him, and he basks in the words, and vows to train harder.

Picture Kevin, ten years old.  Riko drawing a 2 on his cheek; Kevin returning the favor, the 1 he draws precise, painstaking.  “We are the best,” Riko murmurs, “you and me,” and Kevin smiles.  One of the college students plays some music in the locker room, and Kevin remembers this song—the melody, the words.  The song plays through his head, and he longs to sing along, but Riko ignores it and Kevin closes his mouth on the lyrics.  He can hear something, in the Master’s locked office behind him; a muffled thud, and a groan, and somehow it’s louder than the music.

Picture Kevin, eleven years old.  They go on a trip to a natural history museum, something their tutor recommended.  Riko wanders around, haughty and bored; Kevin trails after.  The placards at the exhibits call to him; so many facts, laid out before him; a real mammoth skeleton towers above, and Kevin wants nothing more than to gape at the enormous curving tusks, but Riko tugs him away.  “This stuff doesn’t matter,” Riko says.  “We’re going to make Court.  We’re going to build Court our way, and it will be perfect.”  Kevin wonders if perfect is worth it, but then swallows down the traitorous thought.

Picture Kevin, twelve years old.  Already there are murmurs.  Of his greatness, of Riko’s.  Together, they are unstoppable.  The Master tells them they would be the best, and they do not wish to prove him wrong.  Always, Riko is with him; except once in a rare while when the Master takes him away.   At first, he would come back pale and shaken, and Kevin would hear him sniffling in his bed; but that stopped a long time ago.  Riko never talks about what they do.  “Moriyama stuff,” he said, stiff and proud.  They meet a new player; a possible recruit, for Riko’s Perfect Court.  Nathaniel’s tiny and fast and he laughs as he intercepts a ball from Kevin that he never should’ve even had a chance at, and for a few moments Kevin thinks he can remember what it was like when his mother would cheer him on.  Then the three of them are brought up, up to the tower where they meet Nathaniel’s father who looks just like him, and Kevin learns what “Moriyama stuff” really is.

Picture Kevin, thirteen years old.  Someone asks him in an interview, after his team wins the Little League championships again, about how it feels to follow in his mother’s footsteps.  He doesn’t even really know what he says; he’d been coached on this so many times it was all automatic.  But that night all he can think about is that he doesn’t remember his mother’s voice anymore.  He doesn’t cry; he can’t cry, there’s nowhere that he’s safe.  For he’s not really a Day anymore, except in name, and he knows too well what it means to be a Moriyama.

Picture Kevin, fourteen years old.  A new recruit arrives, and this one won’t run in the night like Nathaniel did.  He doesn’t speak a lot of English, and he’s taller than Kevin, and he doesn’t know why he’s there.  One day he checks Riko into the boards, and that’s when Jean first starts to learn his place.  Riko and Kevin—they had already learned.  That night Kevin holds Jean in his arms as tears leak from his eyes unbidden, and they don’t talk, lest they be found. 

Picture Kevin, fifteen years old.  They play against the college students now.  Faster.  Harder.  More.  At night, he soothes his aching muscles by delving over his books.  He was smart, the tutor told him; he could study anything he wanted.  But it was history that drew him, history that was endlessly fascinating.  Who knew that facts were such subjective things?  So many layers to unpeel, to distract.  

Picture Kevin, sixteen years old.  Pro teams already are banging down the doors for contracts for the pair of them, but they will have to wait.  The professional leagues have less status than the NCAAs; the Master had already decided that they would use the pros as summer training, nothing more.  He pored over college tape instead of worrying about it.  He knew all the coaches in NCAA exy, all their styles.  Except Coach Wymack, who was new.  Coach Wymack, a bleeding heart with a hopeless future at a mid-sized university.  Oh, the university would humor him, for hadn’t Kevin’s mother taught him?  But they would lose patience, once they realized he could not win.  Kevin would pity him, but pity was for the weak.  He thought he remembered reaching a hand out to a fallen player, but he must have made that up.  He would never be afforded the luxury of kindness.

Picture Kevin, seventeen years old.  A letter, creased and yellowed in his hand.  Jean, wide-eyed beside him as he studied the writing in a strong and graceful hand.  “Will you tell him?” Jean asks, little more than a whisper lest the Master come in and see what Kevin found, hidden in a history book that had no doubt remained unopened for a decade.  Kevin refolded it, slowly, carefully.  “There’s nothing to tell.”  And if Jean noticed him tucking the letter into his jacket pocket, he didn’t say a thing.  That night, he charmed one of the college students to pass over a bottle of vodka, and he relished the burn down his throat, the way it made him forget.

Picture Kevin, eighteen years old.  Newly annointed to Court, Riko by his side.  He raises his chin as the cameras click all around him, the smile on his lips foreign and familiar.  He knows his press smile, his press laugh, his press voice.  He doesn’t remember what his real one is anymore.  He looks at Riko, laughing easily next to him, and he thinks there was a time without that glint in his brother’s eyes, without that cruel note to his voice, but then he thinks maybe he was fooling himself all along.  

Picture Kevin, nineteen years old.  Watching Riko, sprinting up the court, waiting for the pass.  Kevin has a clear shot; a guaranteed goal; but he pivots and throws to Riko instead.  Two seconds later the goal lights up red, and Riko is celebrating.  Kevin swallows down the bile in his throat and joins in the cheer.  Thea looks at him from across the court and shakes her head, but she never says a thing.  She’s never felt the sharp edge of Riko’s cruelty, but rumors travel fast underground.  She may not know, but she has held onto Kevin in the dark and helped him find relief from the pain.

Picture Kevin, twenty years old.  His legs are bruised in stripes from the Master’s cane, from Riko’s racquet; he’s slumped on the hotel room floor.  Nothing feels real, anymore; it hasn’t for a long time.  He cradles his hand against his chest, but he doesn’t see the red; just the green green fields and cobbled streets.  He doesn’t hear his own shallow breaths, whistling through his teeth; just his mother’s voice, that he thought he had forgotten, singing off key.  Softly at first, then louder.  Jean pulls him to feet he can barely feel, and he presses his forehead to Kevin’s, and he whispers in the accent he never surrendered, “Go, and be safe.”  And Kevin goes, but he knows not what safety is.

Picture Kevin, twenty one years old.  He feels scraped raw; has, since the day Jean whispered in his ear; like his hand has healed, but he was dragged across cement every day without end.  Only Andrew keeps him here, keeps him from bleeding out upon the ground.  He’s not certain if his facade is intact, but he reaches deep inside himself and finds it.  Neil’s fighting him, and somehow that helps; if he focuses on Neil’s idiotic stubborn streak he can forget that the last time he was here he had Riko by his side.  He walks out onto the stage to a round of applause, and Andrew is staring up at him with those eyes and he can breathe a little easier.  But then—he’s there.  Riko is there, and his cruelty has been whetted like a blade.  Kevin has not forgotten its sharpness.  But Neil parries every blow of Riko’s, and he’s stupid and he’s brave and Kevin wonders how on earth he got this way and he wonders if—if maybe he should try to learn.

Picture Kevin, twenty two years old.  The crowd is screaming; the stands are rumbling with the thunder of thousands of feet.  Neil is to one side of him; Andrew to the other.  They are becoming what he had once seen; the sculpture inside the marble, slowly being chiseled out.  The rest of the Foxes range behind him, and his father stands tall at the back.  Kevin takes a deep breath, drops the butt of his racquet to the ground, shifting it to his left hand.  The stadium quakes, and it should.  He takes a step onto the polished wood floor of the court he knew better than any in the world, and nothing will ever be the same.

[jemej3m]

a comprehensive set of rules (part 1)

light and breezy!! (this is not a b99 au)

this is...long.

plot?????? what?????????

*

January:

“So you’re telling me,” Aaron repeated. “You’re pretty sure this guy is into some organised crime shit?”

Andrew made a noise, rolling over on his bed to press the phone between his ear and the pillow. Usually their calls were short and succinct, as was tradition ever since they departed from college - Andrew heading to Baltimore for policing academy and Aaron to Chicago for med-school - with Aaron doing most of the talking and Andrew occasionally humming in response.

Tonight Andrew was riddled with questions. Usually his moral compass was simple and easy to adhere to, but this was - to put it mildly - fucked. He didn’t care about authority, or loyalty to his police oath, but he couldn’t just screw a guy whilst suspecting him of murder. Or whatever Neil had gotten himself into.

You can’t talk, his own brain reminded him, so kindly, so gently. He made a scathing noise and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“A woman tried to kill him and talked shit about his family. You should’ve seen how bone-white he went at his father’s mention.”

“So - you’re just going to excuse him? On the basis of what, an inclination to murder is genetic?”

Sometimes it was genetic. Andrew almost laughed. Aaron heard the irony in his own words, too and grumbled out a low ‘Shut up.’

“He said he couldn’t date a cop, anyway.” Not that Andrew was interested in dating.

It did appear as though he and Neil was very incompatible: Neil didn’t do sex and relationships, was criminally inclined and had yet to text him since their disaster of a second date.

Andrew was only emotionally ready enough for casual sex, one-night-stands and loveless hookups, and didn’t exactly know whether or not he could ignore Neil’s background, seeing as every day he went in to work and interrogated perps with gang tattoos and blood still drying on their hands.

And yet.

Andrew still wanted to see Neil. See he was alright. Talk to him. Spend time with him. Andrew still wanted to try and set something up, something that’d benefit both of them, maybe a way that Neil could escape from his current life, a way for Andrew to get invaluable knowledge.

Andrew still wanted to try and have something with Neil. Not romantic. Not a relationship, or sex, or even friendship.

Just - something.

“That’s that, then.” Aaron said, unhelpful. “Nicky was all screechy about it on the phone. Said that the guy was cute. I bet he has no clue.”

“No,” Andrew agreed, making a mental note to check out ‘Allison’ and ensure his cousin was safe. “No clue at all.” He sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt we’ll ever see each other again.”

*

February:

“Shit,” Andrew muttered as coffee dribbled down his vest. The taser tucked into its pocket made an odd sound, as though it were drowning or something. He fished it out and sighed: Kevin, another fresh-faced detective who seemed to think he had the right to criticise Andrew’s every move, wouldn’t let this go. Andrew seemed to always be needing new equipment, so much so that Kevin had decided to photocopy the request forms and pin them snootily to Andrew’s desk.

Andrew hated Kevin. Renee had forced him to be civil, though, and he trusted his partner enough to listen to her advice.

“Didn’t see you there,” came a familiar voice. Andrew’s head snapped up: canvasing the truly miraculous sight that stood before him. “So sorry.”

Neil’d had his haircut since Andrew had last seen him, but he bore purple shadows under his eyes, his skin pale and sickly. A hood was drawn up, the sweater too large on Neil’s wiry frame. His jeans were loose too. He was far from the well-dressed bad idea Andrew had gone on two dates with, just over two months prior.

“Come into this cafe, officer,” Neil said, voice flat. “There’s a bathroom.”  With that, he spun on his heel and marched back into the coffee-shop that he had no doubt been waiting outside of for Andrew to pass by.

Andrew followed silently, ignoring the lukewarm coffee that was dripping down his chest. There was a tiny bathroom with two cubicles, of which Neil somehow had the key for. He spun around and leant against the door, eyes dark.

“Neil,” Andrew said. “What the fuck?”

“I can’t be seen with you, or talking to you,” he managed, voice slightly raw. “Things are - not great, right now. I’m sorry I vanished.”

“You have to give me context,” Andrew insisted, stepping closer. “What the hell is going on?”

Neil shut his eyes. “If I promise you that I’ll explain everything, afterwards, will you help me?”

“I take my promises seriously,” Andrew warned.

Neil nodded weakly, wringing his fingers. “I know.”

Andrew sighed, taking some paper towel from next to the sink and patting himself dry. “What’s happening?”

Neil swallowed. “My father’s going to court, based on charges of tax evasion and money laundering.”

Andrew gestured for him to continue.

Neil hung his head. “I’m going to usurp him, him and his closest allies. I need a cop I can filter information through to, so that they can be locked up permanently. All five of them.”

“Someone once told me that they’d never be safe unless the threat was dead,” Andrew said, voice low. “You can’t fool me into thinking you just want them in jail.”

Neil had the audacity to look surprised, like maybe he thought Andrew wouldn’t remember. He’d learn to assume Andrew knew everything soon enough. “He has enough enemies that it’ll be taken care of, for me. Honest enough for you, officer?”

Andrew straightened out. “And when he and his crooks are gone? What then?”

Neil’s smile was almost sad. "Then I will take his place.”

“You could dismantle it entirely,” Andrew argued. “You don’t have to follow his footsteps.”

Neil just shook his head. “There are higher powers at work, Andrew. It’s my legacy: I have no choice." He in a shuddering breath. “If I could abandon it all, I would. I don’t want this life. I don’t want his name, or his smile, or his bloodthirst. I don’t.”

“Neil,” Andrew warned.

The man squeezed his eyes shut. “You know I watched him kill my mom? She didn’t want this life either. He was going to kill me too. Maybe he should have.”

“Neil.”

Andrew had the man’s chin pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He opened his eyes.

“I’ll help you,” Andrew said, against better judgement. “Tell me your name and I’ll help you.”

Neil’s swallow was constricted, weighted. He took out a tiny slip of paper and tucked it into Andrew’s pocket. “I'm still Neil.” His inhale was desperate. “I am still Neil.”

Andrew nodded slightly, stepping back and watching as the man unlocked the door and slipped out.

Slowly - carefully - Andrew unfolded the little piece of paper.

It was a business card, the logo embossed into the paper.

Nathan Wesninski and Co. it read, accented with gold.

*

March:

“How the fuck...” Dan said, flicking through the file. She, Wymack and Renee all sat opposite Andrew, peering over his work with trepidation.

Under a strictly Need-To-Know policy, Kevin was excluded for his previous ties to Riko Moriyama, who was the son of a yakuza boss (though that was not widely known). Matt was excluded on the basis of too many mouths to control, though Dan would probably fill him in. Seth was excluded because he sucked and Andrew hated him. That left his partner, his captain and his sergeant, all of whom were mildly shocked that Andrew had picked up such a large and intricate case independently.

“How did you find all this?” Dan demanded, recoiling from the contents of his file. Beside the many photographs laid a dried chunk of flesh in a sealed bag, of which DNA tests would confirm to be Mary Wesninski’s, who vanished over 14 years ago.  Neil said he’d cut it from the branching aorta of his mother’s heart, of which his father kept in a small container, alongside her tongue and eyes, seeing as his father would miss a whole organ, but not a chunk of the underside. He didn’t get his name the Butcher for nothing.

“Unless we have a weapon, or something with prints that connects Wesninski to that-” Wymack pointed to the piece of Mary’s heart. “It’s still circumstantial without your CI coming forward as a witness.”

“They will die,” Andrew said calmly. “I’ll keep working for a connection, but nothing about my CI gets published. Nothing.”

“Okay,” Renee agreed, smiling warmly as she rounded the table. She waited for his nod to drop a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles of warmth. “We’ll figure something out, Andrew.”

“I can’t believe we have a chance against Wesninski,” Wymack muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Not yet, we don’t.” Dan reminded him.

Not yet, Andrew agreed.

*

April:

Neil walked a slow circle around Andrew’s apartment, eyeing the windows and doors, the fire escape, the kettle, probably even the fucking toilet paper. Andrew watched as he toed off his shoes, pulled his sweater sleeves over his hands and finally joined Andrew in the living room.

“Got bored of figuring out the best point of exit?”

Neil scowled, settling on the couch beside him. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, yours wasn’t exactly an option, was it?” 

Neil just drew his knees up to his chin, curling into a small ball on the couch. “The trial’s been set for late September.”

“I know,” Andrew agreed. 

“You haven’t brought any evidence to the prosecutor yet.”

“I haven’t.”

“Was what I gave not good enough?”

“No,” Andrew grimaced. “A chunk of Mary’s heart tells us she’s dead. Without prints, or a weapon, or DNA evidence surrounding her body, there’s no way to connect Nathan to her death.”

Neil winced, teeth biting into his lip. The minute rocking back and forth was beginning to get on Andrew’s nerves. “I can’t...I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Andrew insisted. “We solve crimes for a living. There’s always an answer.”

Neil scoffed, body still shaking. “You’re probably aware of 20% of what goes on in this city.”

“So tell me the other 80.”

Neil stared. 

Andrew gestured vaguely. “The different gangs, the territory lines, shoot outs and brandings and who’s having an affair with who. I don’t care. Just talk.”

“What good is gossip?” Neil wondered aloud. 

“You’d be surprised,” Andrew said lightly, like this wasn’t completely for Neil’s benefit. He needed to get Neil out of his head. It looked like the man hadn’t sleep in weeks, his nails bitten down to the quick and body stiff with bandages. The fact that Andrew couldn’t help him much more than this - at least not now - was putting him through the wringer.  

“Fine,” Andrew huffed when Neil wasn’t forthcoming, getting off the couch. From under the TV he grasped a random DVD and shoved it into the player that Nicky had bought for him a few years ago. 

“What’s this?” Neil blinked, owlishly. 

Andrew just dropped back down onto the couch. “Do you trust me?”

Neil looked at him, eyes narrowed. 

Andrew reached out to push the long fringe away from Neil’s eyes. “Neil, do you trust me?”

“I...” he looked down to his hands. They slowly curled into fists. “I want to.”

Andrew tilted his chin up with the tip of his finger. For a moment there was nothing else, just blue and gold and fate and future. “Then believe me when I say I will find a way.”

Slowly, Neil nodded. 

*

May: 

“Dimaccio, Plank, and the Romero siblings,” Andrew leant on the table with his fists, the fies splayed out around them. “We lock them up, one by one. Nathan loses his circle, loses his security. He’ll put out the wrong foot without anyone else to fall back on.”

“Who should we start with, then?” Wymack inquired, letting Andrew steer this investigation down to the very last report signature. 

Andrew arched an eyebrow, momentarily recalling the jagged scars on the inside of Neil’s elbows. 

“She’d wanted to cut my tendons, once,” he said, before yanking down the sleeves again. 

“Ladies first,” he told Wymack, picking up the photo of Lola Malcom and pinning it right into the centre of their case-board.

*

June: 

Dimaccio snarled as he was lead away in shackles, hair shaved close to his skull. He was probably double Andrew’s height and width and had three police escorts shoving him into the back of a wagon. Across the back of his hand had been the characteristic X, the one Neil bore, the one Lola had worn too. 

Two down, three to go, Andrew thought, something like pride grinning wolfishly within his chest. These were only the bail hearings: proper convictions wouldn’t be till the new year. It didn’t matter: so long as they were locked up, Andrew could move forward. Wymack stood beside him, thumbs hooked into his belt loops. 

“Nice work, kiddo,” the chief acknowledged, shaking out a cigarette and gesturing to the exit. Andrew followed. 

Leaning against the courthouse’s sandstone exterior, Andrew stared up into the cloudless sky with an accusatory squint, till Wymack nudged him.

“Your phone’s ringing,” he muttered, cigarette drooping with ever syllable. 

Andrew fished out the burner that he always kept tucked into his back pocket. He flicked it open immediately: there was only one person who had this number. 

“Andrew,” Neil panted. “Thank god. Okay. Hi.”

“N -” Andrew glanced at Wymack before turning away. “What’s going on?”

“The chances of me being able to contact you from now on will be slim to none: with two of them gone, I have to step in.”

“Christ,” Andrew muttered, stubbing out his cigarette. “Where are you now?”

“Bathroom,” Neil muttered. “Some stupid event thing for his business front. I’m not who matters right now. Do you have family that’s traceable to you? A next of kin?”

“You’ve met Nicky and Erik,” Andrew said, suddenly cold all over. “My twin and his wife live in Chicago.”

“They should be alright,” Neil murmured. “But Nicky and Erik have to go. Can they win a flight overseas? I’ll wire you through money if you need it -” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sort it out.”

“You need to be careful,” Neil insisted. “He’s going to come after you. That’s twice your name’s been on the front of the arrest records. I’ve sorted something out, okay?”

“Forgive me if that sounds less that appealing.”

Neil laughed weakly. “It’s not a pretty solution, but it’ll work. You have to keep working, and if I can’t keep interacting with you without blowing this whole thing over, then our only choice is...” 

“Allison,” Andrew muttered. “Jesus Christ.”

Neil hummed in agreement. “She’ll pick you up from yours in an hour. Be ready.”

“How does she know where I live?”

“Like she doesn’t track my every move, Minyard. She’s my accomplice. Gotta go, now. He’ll get suspicious.” 

Something twisted in Andrew’s throat. “Stay safe.”

Neil paused, then mumbled “You too,” and disconnected the call. 

Wymack was watching him with an arched brow. 

Andrew shrugged. “My CI’s quick.”

“Unpredictable asshole,” his boss muttered, shooing him off with a derisive flick of his fingers. Andrew saluted him as he departed, before twisting on his heel and jogging back to his car. 

*

“Guest room, guest bathroom, living room, kitchen, blah, blah.” Allison waved her hand around emphatically, her manicured nails glittering with rhinestones and pearls. They were probably real, if her apartment was anything to go by. 

Everything was white, grey or pink, aside from the dark-oak parquetry on her floors. The marble countertops were polished to sparkle, every device in her kitchen practically unused. It was Nicky’s dream penthouse. 

“It pays to murder, doesn’t it?” Andrew wondered when he’d inherited Neil’s loose tongue. 

The look Allison gave him was withering. “I don’t murder. I clean up.”

“Because complacency is so much better than participation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Nicky didn’t tell me you were a fucking cop. Would’ve never set you up on a date if I knew.”

“I’m going to have his father in max security by the end of the year,” Andrew reminded her. “Don’t make me abandon the case.”

She grinned. “You wouldn’t. He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” At Andrew’s glare, she waved him off. “Don’t worry: he’s just like that. I never said that I ain’t wrapped around his finger too. It’s impossible to not want to shield him away, wrap him in copious amounts of blankets, kiss his forehead and tell him it’ll be okay. I tried it once,” she grimaced. “It didn’t work.”

Andrew didn’t picture Neil, a mobster’s son, wrapped in blankets on Andrew’s couch, smiling (genuinely) as Andrew pressed a kiss to the corner of his eye. He did not picture that. He did not. 

“For what it’s worth,” Allison said, in a voice softer than Andrew thought she was capable of as she looked out the enormous windows that overlooked Baltimore’s busiest district. “I’m glad he trusts you. And I’m glad you’re helping us.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Reynolds,” he pointed at her in warning. “I’ll lock you up too, if you give me a reason to.”

Her laugh was pearlescent, her grin cat-like. “Neil would scalp you before you could even say my full name. Don’t forget, Minyard,” she winked. “I’ve got him wrapped around my finger, too.”

*

this will continue in p.2 with july-december!! after that we’ll go back to our regularly scheduled softness and humour. i’ve already got another one-shot planned around kevin and neil.... :D

[leloqier]

MERC MERC MERC- for the fanfic title thing !!!! "The Key of Disaster" 👀

Okay so I’m getting fey vibes from this

So like Neil is the son of Mary and Nathan, yes, but what he doesn’t know is that Nathan is a fey creature and Mary ran away with him to protect him for that reason

So Neil and Mary went on the run and it happened pretty much like canon except when Mary died, she told him the truth

And it sparked even *more* paranoia in Neil

So, he destroyed her remains and ran

And ran

And ran

He only stopped when he passed out in a clearing in the middle of some nondescript wood where he would soon create a hideout.

He knew he couldn’t stay long but the wood had many good resources, and he thought it would be a shame if he didn’t take advantage of them first

One day he’d be hiding in his little wooden tent thing when he’d get woken up by thundering footsteps heading his way.

Breathing heavily, Neil reaches under his duffel bag he’s been using as a pillow and pulls out a gun, shifting towards the entrance and getting ready to shoot

A grunt sounds a few yards in front of him as someone falls to the ground

Neil stays quiet all but his breathing which he is trying to force into slowing down with no avail

He knew he should've run when things got too calm

He’s about to step out and run off when a foot lands directly in front of the opening to his shelter. Neil scrambles back and has to force himself not to fire the gun

“Are you all right? We need to move, Kevin. Get up”

No

No it couldn’t be

That's impossible

Neil clutches his gun to his chest and scoots back to the far wall when the shelter is knocked over, Neil bites back a scream.

A blonde impish looking boy is looming over him, a frighteningly large grin on his face

Wymack and Kevin are there too, Kevin holding his ankle where he fell on a tree root, and Wymack helping him up, looking back over his shoulder towards Andrew and Neil

“Well well well, what do we have here”

So basically they’re all fey folk and they had to leave the realm because of Riko and Wymack was trying to get them back to a safe bubble in the woods Neil happened to be in

So they invite Neil along but Neil refuses adamantly, saying he has no business with their kind (and also freaking out cause Kevin- who his mother said to stay away from at all costs- is *right there*), but obviously Andrew can tell he’s lying, so when Neil runs, he chases him, followed by a concerned Wymack and an unwilling to be left alone Kevin

Andrew tackles Neil to the ground with a smile and in the fray, Andrew shoves a key into Neil’s pocket before standing abruptly and walking away nonchalantly like he didn’t just tackle some random runaway to the ground

As they’re walking away and Neil is having a panic attack on the ground, he hears Wymack ask what the fuck that was

“He has a secret, and I’m going to find out what. All I know is that he’s like us.”

A ball of lead sinks into Neil’s stomach.

Later on, Neil is destroying his camp and getting ready to leave when he finally notices the key in his pocket

Its intricate and large and it hums in his hand

Neil immediately drops it to the ground and begins to bury it, not having it

When he finally gets a good distance away and is about to call one of his contacts, he sees the key laying on the ground next to him

That’s when his temper flares and he snatches the key back up and runs back to those woods with questions and angry insults

Basically it unlocks the secret hideout for the foxes and they all work together to destroy Riko and Andrew and Neil fall in love the end

Also the key accidentally maybe allowed Neil to be sensed by other fey and put him in extreme danger so that Andrew really did have to protect him

There’s prolly a part in there somewhere where Andrew does the old fey trick of asking for someone’s name to Neil, but when Neil falls for it it doesn’t work cause,,, y’know

Which only makes Andrew more suspicious

And the key plays a recurring thing but I'm not sure what it is, but it’s important to destroying Nathan and Riko alike

Anyway yeah that's that on that

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

Hey! There's this hc that's been on my mind for a while now but it's a bit dark so I've kinda been scared to ask people about it because IDK how it'd go down.... Okay, it's AFTG, and: What if after Aaron's trial with the whole Thanksgiving thingy they propose Aaron should be on mood altering drugs? What would happen? What would people do?? Also I know there are some fanpeople that don't like how Andrew's medication was represented in the books so I completely understand if you'd rather not reply

I’m sorry this took so long and I’m sorry for my recent inactivity. I’m still not ready to come back from my surprise hiatus but here’s this. It’s largely unedited so please forgive my bullshit. Thanks so much for the ask, love <3

“Aaron Minyard was oft-referred to as "the normal one" of the two, though that was usually followed by a debate over whether or not he could be sane when he shared genes with Andrew.”

Anyone with half a brain knows that Aaron doesn’t need the drugs. Hell, anyone with half a brain would have known better than to put a minor on something so strong but Andrew was on them for like 4 yrs + Exy is a thing so obviously no one in this universe has a single functioning brain cell. Another thing to be considered is that Aaron is a rehabilitated drug addict. He’s been sober (or as close to sober as he’s going to get) since he was 16. In the real world, I seriously doubt they’d put him on anti-psychotics, especially considering his past. But this is The Foxhole Court and I’m invoking suspension of disbelief. 

Screams reverberated through Aaron’s head. There weren’t many words Aaron could discern amid the broken sobs and dry heaving. The overwhelming stench of vomit hit his nostrils. Pain shot through his left arm. It was likely dislocated from ramming it into the door at an odd angle. Staggering to his feet, Aaron saw himself in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes. A cruel smile slowly curled the lips of his reflection. Andrew. Swinging a punch at him with his good hand, the mirror shattered. Shards of glass embedded themselves into his fist. Blood ran in rivers down his arms. 

His surroundings distorted, exchanging the soft glow of yellow bulbs for the harsh glow of fluorescents. The blood was gone along with the mirror shards. In their place was a motley of scars. None of them seemed too severe. The acrid smell of smoke clung to the air and mixed with the alcohol and vomit, making Aaron’s stomach roil. The sound of someone retching caught Aaron’s attention. Whirling around, Aaron felt his heart stutter. Matt lay twitching on the floor in a pool of his own spew.

“That’s what you looked like,” Andrew said from beside Aaron. “Pathetic.” The word echoed through Aaron’s head. 

“Aaron?” Nicky said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Aaron jerked away from him as though he’d been burned. Nicky’s face crumpled. Aaron’s gaze darted around the room.Taking stock of his surroundings helped ground him. Overstuffed chairs lined one of the walls. Three sofas boxed off the corner they were sat in. Orange fox prints decorated the white walls, a name, number, and photograph at the center of each. Aaron was back at the Foxhole Court. 

“I told you not to touch him.” Andrew’s voice froze the blood in Aaron’s veins. Stalking forward from the corner he’d been standing in, he moved to stand in front of Aaron. Cold brown eyes identical to Aaron’s own now held his gaze. Aaron wanted to look away but, as always, there was something about his brother’s eyes that never failed to command his attention. 

“How’s he going to play if he’s medicated?” Kevin asked. Aaron felt his heart sink. After spending two years with him, Aaron should have known better than to expect Kevin to care about anything other than Exy but he couldn’t help it. Just as he’d begun to think that the last few months had meant something, Kevin squashed the tiny bud of hope that had blossomed in Aaron’s heart.  

“How are you going to play if I break your other arm?” Andrew snarled. Aaron watched the color drain from Kevin’s face. A part of him wanted to smirk in Kevin’s face. It served the asshole right. All Kevin ever thought about was Exy. Exy and himself. Half of the things the foxes had been through could have been avoided had it not been for Kevin. They wouldn’t have suffered the graffiti attacks nor would they have been constantly dogged by the media. They sure as shit wouldn’t have had Neil and the mafia to contend with had Kevin not been such a selfish asshole, insisting on dragging that good-for-nothing junkie out of the middle of bumfuck Arizona. 

A larger part of Aaron wanted to cradle Kevin in his arms and protect him from Andrew’s wrath. Had Kevin not run, Aaron would never have had the chance to feel the press of Kevin’s vodka drenched lips on his. He definitely wouldn’t have had the chance to hear the soft keening moans that fell from Kevin’s lips when Aaron fucked into him. Worst of all, there would be no soft smiles or lazy kisses before Kevin drifted off to sleep.  

“Andrew,” Neil’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Well, not really. Neil’s voice was always gentle when he spoke to Andrew. Gentle and tender and full of love. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the way his brother’s brow softened and his shoulders drooped. Fuck you, Neil Josten. 

The door down the hall slammed shut. The sound of Coach Wymack’s footsteps echoed in the silence. Taking a moment to glance around the assemblage, Wymack read the room and decided it was best not to say anything. Instead, he held out a plastic bag. Aaron’s hand shook as he accepted it. A paper bag resided within the first. Extracting it, Aaron read the label. He’d seen the label a thousand times before but, up until today, it had always borne his brother’s name. 

Pills rattled ominously inside. Sweat slicked Aaron’s palms. Upending the second bag, the sight of the orange bottle jarred Aaron to his core. Andrew took the bottle from Aaron’s lap and squatted in front of him. 

“Two pills in the morning after breakfast,” he said. 

“And two again at 4,” Aaron finished. Andrew pried Aaron’s hand open before unscrewing the cap. Tipping two pills into Aaron’s palm, Andrew lay a hand on the back of his neck. Aaron knew his brother struggled to express his emotions but this was one gesture Aaron had learnt to recognize. It was a gesture of comfort meant to offer support. Staring into his brother’s eyes, Aaron forced himself to bring the pills to his lips. He swallowed them dry, painfully aware of every inch of their passage down his throat. 

Anyone watching knew that Aaron’s descent into madness was swift. Aaron himself didn’t know that, though. To him, time seemed to slow. Staring down at his hands, Aaron flexed his fingers. Were those his fingers? Maybe. Maybe not. Aaron opened his mouth and felt the skin around it stretch. Laughter bubbled out of him at the odd sensation. 

“Aaron?” Nicky asked. Aaron turned his gaze to his cousin and a smile split his face. Once again, the odd sensation of his skin drawing taut left him in a fit of giggles.

“It hurts,” Aaron said. 

“What hurts?” Kevin demanded. 

“Looking at your face,” Aaron replied. Had the words passed anyone else’s lips, Kevin’s anger might have flared to life. Instead, any remaining signs of life seemed to drain from him. Now it really did hurt.

Nicky had always told Aaron that if you looked at something over and over again, you would eventually get it. Perhaps it was because seeing the reward would motivate a person to work towards their goal, but no matter how much Aaron looked at Kevin nor how hard he worked, Aaron knew Kevin would never truly be his. Why he kept tormenting himself by staring at him, Aaron didn’t know. Maybe he was just as self-destructive as Andrew. 

Sadness welled up in Aaron’s chest. A bone deep yearning had settled into him long ago but he suddenly felt the full intensity of- 

“Stickball!” Aaron cried as Neil wheeled the racquet cart out. Rocketing out of his seat, Aaron caught his brother’s arm and yanked it hard. “Andy, come play stickball with me!” 

“Play what?” Kevin squawked.

“Who?” Andrew choked at the same time. 

“Stickball, Andy,” Neil said. A smile curled the edges of his lips. Kevin opened his mouth to say something but Aaron didn’t stick around to hear. Instead, he followed after Neil chanting ‘Stick! Ball! Stick! Ball!’, dragging Andrew along behind him. 

So that gives you a general idea of Aaron’s madness.

Unlike Andrew, Aaron doesn’t really fight his meds. Where Andrew was terrified of not being able to properly watch out for his family, Aaron finds himself freed from all his anxieties. As such, he’s quite content with drifting through his life. I’ve always hc’d the twins as ADHD but are undiagnosed so it’s just a more intense version of how he normally is.

In the last two years, Aaron’s managed to make quite a few friends so they do their best to support him. Since he can’t focus very well and is no longer burdened by his anxieties, I feel like he also kinda relaxes around them??? Like he’s not as awkward. Very easy, breezy, joking around all the time. They really enjoy how much he’s opened up but they care a lot about him and are scared because they don’t know how to help him with class. What ends up happening is Katelyn is an absolute sweetheart. She convinces all of their friends to sit at the front of the room to record the lectures and upload them to a drive along with any extra notes that’ll help Aaron.

All the Foxes have to go to tutoring but Aaron’s tutor gave up the second he started his meds. After getting special permission from Wymack, they cut that time out and changed up the practice schedules a bit so Aaron could get out early and head back to Fox Tower. Once he’s made it through withdrawal, Katelyn will sit him down and help him work through his assignments. She’s a godsend. 

Aaron is usually off his meds on weekends. He usually goes out to Columbia with the Monsters. He still dances with Nicky and has his fair share of fun. They go to the mall pretty often bc there’s a carousel with spinning tea cups. The twins have spent an entire afternoon riding the spinning tea cups, competing to see who hurls first. Aaron almost always wins. Andrew will take him out late Saturday nights and speed down closed sections of highways or do donuts in parking lots because they're both dumbasses with death wishes. 

One weekend a month, Aaron remains at Fox Tower with Katelyn for spa day where they wax poetic about their respective crushes. Kate’s got a bit of a thing for a boy on the lacrosse team. Aaron screams bc he hates the guy. One time, at a party, the dude was talking to Kevin, shit talking both Kayleigh and Exy, completely unaware of exactly who he was talking to. Kevin ended up with a blackeye but the lacrosse kid couldn’t play for nearly two months. 

Speaking of Kevin, he’s only thing that ever seems to hold any of Aaron’s attention. He’s just so… pretty. If Exy is Neil’s shiny object, then Kevin is Aaron’s. Since Aaron makes even less of an effort to pay attention than Andrew did, there's times when he straight up can’t play. It infuriates Kevin to the point where Aaron gets pulled off the court. At first he doesn’t mind because it means that he can sit back and watch Kevin without any fear of getting caught. However, ever since he got put on his meds, Kevin hasn’t touched him. Not even in a non-sexual way. Before, there were casual touches: a hand on the small of Aaron’s back, shoulders pressed together as they squished into a booth, ankles hooked beneath the table. Now? There’s nothing. Kevin leaves a conspicuous space between himself and Aaron and it’s the only thing Aaron can feel anymore. 

So he starts paying attention on the court. Whenever they have a scrimmage, Aaron makes sure that he’s marking Kevin. Everytime Kevin crashes into him, Aaron’s consciousness slams back into his body. The heat of Kevin’s skin on his, their limbs tangled together, their ragged breaths intermingling, their helmets the only thing keeping their mouths from colliding together. Those little encounters are the only times when Aaron finally feels like himself. Those little encounters only last a few seconds and leave Aaron craving more, more, more. 

Aaron noticed that medicated Andrew was always brushing up against Neil but he’d never really thought much of it. Now he understood. Andrew had craved Neil just as Aaron craved Kevin. 

Speaking of Neil, he and Aaron get along well? I feel like Aaron is just as much of a smart mouth as Neil so the two of them just go around roasting the shit out of everyone. The drugs don’t change Aaron’s opinion of Neil but he begins to understand why Andrew broke their deal. Realizing that Neil didn’t steal his brother from him, Aaron starts to see the appeal in him. He’s stupid and funny and actually kind of pretty. Not as pretty as Kevin but pretty nonetheless. On weekends in Columbia, Aaron begins to notice all the things Neil does for his brother. Neil wakes up early in the morning to make breakfast and spends hours in the kitchen baking. He always picks up an extra pint of ice cream at the store and takes photos of stray cats to send Andrew. One time, Aaron couldn’t sleep and went to the kitchen for some water. His heart almost stopped when he heard Andrew’s rumbling laughter. Sneaking a peek around the corner, his heart really did stutter. Neil was standing on Andrew’s feet as he waltzed around the kitchen to the soft strains of music flowing from the radio. After aaron’s heart restarted, he hurried away because OH MY GOD ANDREW WAS LAUGHING AND DANCING AND HOLDING NEIL SO TENDERLY AND OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD

Okay so maybe Neil did sic the mafia on them but he also makes Andrew happy so that evens it out right? It’s v slow but Aaron is very slowly learning to accept Neil.

Slipping back to his room, Aaron placed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing a mile a minute. Off his meds, Aaron found it hard to stem the surge of jealousy threatening to overwhelm him. He was glad Andrew had found someone who loved him the way he deserved to be but didn’t Aaron deserve love too? 

A soft knock sounded behind him. Aaron nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound. Oh, fuck. What it was Andrew? What if he’d seen him? With shaking hands, Aaron opened the door. For the second time that night, Aaron’s heart stopped. 

Vodka stained lips crashed against his. Aaron’s mouth opened on impact and he felt the warm slide of Kevin’s tongue on his. A moan tore from Kevin, reverberating down Aaron’s thought. It was a shot right to his core. Suddenly, Aaron’s clothes felt too tight, his body too warm. Grabbing the collar of Kevin’s shirt, Aaron hauled him into the room. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Aaron panted as he tore himself away from Kevin.

“Missed you,” Kevin slurred as he leaned back in. Aaron shoved him away, sending Kevin crashing into the wall. The look of anguish that washed over Kevin’s features threatened to tear Aaron’s heart out of his chest. 

“You haven’t come near me in months,” Aaron hissed. “Why now?” Kevin opened his mouth but nothing came out. He tried two more times before dropping his gaze. 

“Because I got scared.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Kevin retreated into his shoulders. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before. All day, all night, you’re all I ever think about.”

“You don’t think about me on the court,” Aaron sneered.

“And you don’t watch me from the sidelines.” Aaron felt the blood rush to his face. It had been years since Aaron had prayed but now he begged God to bend the shadows of his room to hide the burning of his ears. “Exy was all I’ve ever had. Back then, I played to stay alive but now… now I play because I know you can’t take your eyes off me when I do.” Kevin reached out slowly, giving Aaron time to move away. Relief flooded his face when Aaron didn’t flinch. As Kevin’s hand cupped his face, Aaron leaned into the touch. Pulling their bodies flush against one another, Kevin bent down enough to rest his forehead against Aaron’s. “I don’t want Exy to be the only thing I love anymore.”

“Then pick something,” Aaron whispered. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage as though it was trying to escape. He knew what was coming but nothing prepared him for actually hearing it.  

“ I pick you,” Kevin replied. Their lips collided once more and Aaron let Kevin steer them to the bed. Collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs, Aaron felt like himself for the first time in months.