#neil starts spending more and more time with andrew on the bottom bunk

[pixiishi]

the dorm room beds aren’t made to fit two, but they make it work 🧡🔑

ID in ALT text

[jingerhead]

Could you write something about someone from Andrew’s past, like someone he fooled around with / had some type of relationship with in juvie, meeting the foxes?

Hello anon!! I seriously love this prompt, I think it can go so many different ways than what I chose to do with it. I'm really sorry for the wait, this has been in my inbox for a very long time now. This is also a little shorter than some other requests I've done, not quite drabble length but shorter than a typical one-shot I'd do, so apologies for that as well. Still, I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 3,030 | Rated: T | Mentions of handjobs/blowjobs

Andrew preferred to spend days off sleeping in and ignoring the world. It wasn't often that the Foxes could have them, especially after the year they'd just had, so time like this was never wasted. The best days Andrew had were the ones when Neil would take the day off as well, not going off for a run in the morning or to do anything exy related with Kevin. The best way to wake up was to see Neil's still-sleeping face, relaxed against a pillow and breathing softly.

The sun had risen what felt like hours ago, and Andrew had woken up as the first light had peeked through the blinds to their room. He'd spent that time staring at Neil's face and dozing once in a while. Kevin had gotten up long ago, thankfully not saying anything to rouse either of his roommates, and left them in silence. There were noises coming from the rest of the room, a few soft clangs of cups and silverware as Kevin got himself breakfast, but other than that, it was quiet.

Andrew continued to study Neil's face for a moment, taking in the mess his auburn curls had become during sleep. Neil didn't toss-and-turn, but he'd shift his head on the pillow a lot, trading off which side of his face was on it. There were a few faint lines on his skin from the pillowcase, his lips were red and parted as he breathed, and his entire body was relaxed. Neil was beautiful at every time of the day, but there was something special about seeing him asleep.

He trusted Andrew. It showed in how he let them sleep in the same bed, just the same way Andrew knew it showed his own trust that he allowed it as well.

The arm trapped under the pillow Neil's head rested on had long since fallen asleep, but Andrew knew he wasn't going to be moving it. The rest of his body was too comfortable, and though the pins-and-needles feeling wasn't pleasant, it was something he could ignore for the moment, giving Neil a few more minutes of sleep. Eventually, Neil took a deep breath, eyes slowly blinking open as he woke up.

"Morning," Neil whispered, his voice raspy. He raised his head after a moment, allowing Andrew to slip his arm from under the pillow and try to shake some feeling back into it. Neil snorted at the sight, laying his head back down. "Time?"

"Eight," Andrew responded.

"Still time," Neil mumbled, starting to sit up. "The others wanted to go for brunch today."

The idea of brunch wasn't a bad one, especially on a day off, but Andrew wasn't sure he wanted to spend it with the Foxes. He was sure in that Neil would be fine with any choice Andrew made, but he also knew that if Neil wanted to go he would. He was inviting Andrew along, not demanding it. An option with a clear 'yes' or 'no'.

"Where?" Andrew asked, moving so that Neil could climb out of the bottom bunk, heading towards his dresser. Neil had worn some gray sweatpants and his PSU hoodie to sleep last night and was choosing a different set of sweatpants to wear today. But he wasn't wearing the same pants for three days in a row, so Andrew had to begrudgingly admit in his mind that this was progress.

"Not Sweeties," Neil said, frowning as he thought and glancing over his shoulder. "I can't remember. Some other diner."

"Pancakes?"

"It's brunch," Neil said, grabbing his soap and pausing next to the bed. "Do you want to go?"

Andrew thought for another moment. Neil stood there while he did, just waiting for what Andrew would say. "Yes," he decided, the idea of non-burnt pancakes for breakfast an appealing one. "Go shower."

"I was going to," Neil huffed, walking out the door.

After a few more minutes, Andrew got himself out of bed and changed while the dorm room was empty. He put on some jeans, a black turtleneck and his armbands, slipping on some fuzzy socks and walking to the kitchenette, where he got to work on some coffee. Kevin was sitting on their couch, the TV on and playing something from the history channel. By the time Andrew's coffee was ready, Neil had finished his shower, his hair still damp and a dark coppery color. He poured himself some juice while Andrew mixed some creamer into his coffee, the color more milky than black.

"Kevin," Neil called, somehow dragging Kevin's attention away from the TV. "Where's everyone going for brunch?"

Kevin shrugged. "How should I know?"

Neil put his empty glass down and took a step towards Andrew. "I'll be back in a second," he said, as if Andrew needed to know that - no, he did need to know that. Somehow, Neil had picked up on Andrew hating every second he didn't know where Neil was, or at the very least when he was leaving. It reminded him too much of the time they'd gotten separated and he'd only found Neil's duffle bag on the asphalt. But now, Neil went out of his way to tell Andrew every time he was leaving, whether that was in person or via text. Andrew has yet to be surprised by Neil disappearing again.

He nodded in response, putting his mug down and looking Neil's way when a hand was brought in his line of sight. Neil was holding it in offer, which Andrew took to just brush his fingers against the calloused skin of Neil's palm, going back to his coffee when he was done. It was as much PDA as they'd ever do, Andrew was sure, because just brushing fingers sent tingles through his body. He'd never been touched that gently, before.

But he'd been doing a lot of firsts with Neil, who was the first one Andrew had let in even remotely. In the past, he'd kept it nothing but physical. People like Roland had been okay with that, but Andrew remembered a few people since juvie that had been upset.

He watched Neil leave the room out of the corners of his eyes, slowly sipping on his coffee and deciding not to think about Neil anymore. He wandered over to the couch and sat down next to Kevin, deciding it was a much better use of his time to complain about whatever he was watching and demanding that Kevin disprove every conspiracy theory he could think of. Because by now Kevin knew Andrew was only doing it to get a rise out of him, but he couldn't resist proving someone wrong.

Neil walked back into the dorm when Kevin was in the middle of gathering his thoughts, thankfully sparing him from arguing about the existence of lizard people that run the government. Neil didn't seem shocked or worried about the conversation, just letting the two know that everyone else was ready to head to some diner other than Sweeties for brunch. With that, they got ready and headed to the place. Aaron wasn't going to ride with them(and when they arrived, they found he hadn't come at all), and Nicky had met up with someone the night before. He got his own ride to the diner, leaving just Andrew, Kevin and Neil in the Maserati.

The school year wasn't over just yet, but none of the upperclassmen were trying to hide that this was a 'last get together' before graduation. Renee smiled genuinely when Andrew got out of the Maserati, a light shining too brightly in her eyes. Andrew did his best to scowl her way, but there was no way to deny that he was going to...well, Bee had said he was going to miss her, but Andrew didn't miss people. He already had Renee's number and the a-okay to call her for sparing matches whenever he wanted it.

He ignored her look and followed Neil into the diner, where Dan had managed to get them a large booth that was big enough to fit everyone. There were small cups of water and silverware rolled into napkins on the right side of colorful menus set out on the table. Andrew sat next to Renee in the booth, leaving the seat on his left open for Neil, who sat with one foot on the side of the seat, like he was prepared to spring away. Andrew wondered if he even noticed he did that.

There was a little bit of small talk made that Andrew ignored in favor of figuring out which pancake stack he wanted to order. The diner had a large order of chocolate chip pancakes that sounded good, even though Andrew was sure that was for more than one person. But he could eat that, and the fact that there were sprinkles on top of the whipped cream in the picture was calling to him.

"Hello," someone said, "I'm Patrick, I'll - Andrew?"

Andrew had already recognized the voice. It was a bit deeper in pitch, but hard to mistake, and he knew the face he'd see when he looked up. Patrick McKenzie had grown, puberty obviously doing wonders to his body, finally letting him grow into his limbs. His hair was a bit darker, eyes still the same brown, but he was obviously different. Everyone else around the table seemed shocked to silence.

"Patrick," Andrew said back.

"Hey," Patrick said, voice a little too hesitant. He was still staring at Andrew, as though he was noticing all the changes Andrew had gone through as well. It was enough for everyone else to pick up on, especially - and infuriatingly - Nicky.

"Who's this, Andrew?" Nicky asked, smiling too widely to be an innocent question.

Before Andrew could shut Nicky down, Patrick started talking. "Oh, I'm Patrick. I knew Andrew in juvie."

"Oh," Nicky said, smiling at Andrew.

"Your boyfriend from juvie is our waiter?" Allison asked, looking Patrick up and down.

"No," both Andrew and Patrick said at the same time. Almost surprisingly, Patrick had nearly the same energy in his shut down of the question as Andrew did. Patrick had a lot of false bravado when in juvie, slowly growing out of it as time went on, but he'd clearly grown in more ways than one.

More silence fell around them. "Small world," Allison mumbled, glancing back down at her menu.

"Um," Patrick said, pulling out a small flip notebook. "What can I get you?"

Orders went more smoothly, and Andrew managed to keep from looking at Neil until Patrick had left. He looked over, expecting to see a frown or something on Neil's face, but there was...nothing. Neil just talked to Matt on the other end of the booth about something that Andrew couldn't care less about, trying to find a negative reaction that just wasn't there.

He didn't know how to feel about it. In his mind, Neil should be upset to see one of Andrew's past partners - which was the best way Andrew could refer to Patrick, who'd been one of a few boys he'd tried giving a consensual handjob or blowjob to. Patrick had been the only one that didn't try to fight back against Andrew's hands pinning his wrists to walls, so Andrew let him stick around for longer. They'd gone their separate ways when Andrew left juvie, and Andrew hadn't cared enough about Patrick to make the effort to remember him.

It was a weird relief to see him working and alive, Andrew supposed, but he was more interested in Neil's not-reaction. Of which he was still doing.

It was all Andrew could think about when Patrick came back with their food. He finished the mountain of pancakes that made Kevin look as though he wanted to hurl, fiddling with a spoon while the rest of the team finished their meals. All throughout it, no matter how many times anyone tried to pry, Andrew didn't talk to them about Patrick, and Neil didn't ask at all. Maybe he was just waiting until they were alone, or maybe he didn't care at all. The second option made Andrew frown.

When the checkbook was deposited on their table and everyone finished adding money and cards to it, Andrew moved to get up. Neil let him by, sitting back down in the booth as Andrew stood next to the table, searching for where Patrick was. He was not too far away, standing at a register near the front entrance of the diner, his back to the booth.

"I'll be back," Andrew said, grabbing the checkbook. He was aware of the looks he was getting from the rest of the team, but the only look he was concerned about was Neil's. Neil didn't smile or shrug or - anything, he continued to have no reaction at all. And Andrew knew that he'd told Neil repeatedly that this was nothing, that he was nothing, but he thought that Neil would understand how important it was to Andrew that he was handing over these firsts and trust. He didn't want Neil to be jealous or anything, but...shouldn't he be? Somehow?

"Okay," Neil said after Andrew stood by the table for a few seconds too long.

Andrew held more tightly to the checkbook and started walking to where Patrick was standing by the register. He didn't have a plan, and wasn't sure what he wanted to say or why he even wanted to say anything to the man at all, but he was going to. Bee would probably be proud of him if she knew what he was doing.

"Oh," Patrick said, jumping just slightly when Andrew stopped next to the register. "Hey."

Andrew wordlessly handed over the checkbook, crossing his arms on the small wall Patrick was safe behind. It was taken with a steady hand, but there was nervousness in Patrick's eyes as he put the checkbook next to the register, continuing to glance at Andrew. "No more arson?" Andrew decided to ask.

Patrick's lips curled into a strange smile, letting out a humorless laugh. "No," he confirmed.

"Diner," Andrew said.

"Exy," Patrick said back. "Didn't you hate it when we played in juvie?"

Andrew didn't question how Patrick knew. Maybe he recognized Andrew's face on TV, or maybe he just recognized Kevin Day. "I still hate it," Andrew said. "Diner?"

Patrick shrugged. "Didn't know what to do once I left, but I needed a job. One of my friends dads owns this place, hired me. I like it here."

"Hmm," Andrew hummed.

They stood in silence while Patrick processed the payment, handing over the checkbook with all the receipts when he finished. "Take care of yourself, Andrew."

Andrew hummed again and walked back to the table, dropping the checkbook there and moving to leave the diner. He avoided looking at Neil, itching to smoke. He stood next to the Maserati while he waited for everyone to walk out, nearly finished with his cigarette by the time they did. Kevin and Neil broke away from the upperclassmen and Nicky to walk towards the Maserati. Andrew abandoned the rest of the cigarette to get into the car, starting it as everyone else got inside. The radio played softly as the car moved, but the rest of the silence felt stifling. Andrew wasn't sure why.

He supposed it had something to do with Neil's reaction from earlier. Just the fact that there had been no reaction when Andrew felt that there should be some reaction. He glanced in the mirror at Kevin, who was staring out a window, and then at Neil, who was looking straight ahead. He didn't want to talk about it, not wanting to hear Neil's thoughts if he really was jealous, but he knew better than to let it fester.

Andrew decided to ask in German, because Kevin didn't need to know what they were talking about. "I knew Patrick in juvie," he explained to Neil, who jerked his head to the left when Andrew started talking.

"I know," he replied in German as well. "I was listening when he said so."

"I'm not going back to see him."

"Okay."

Why did this feel so difficult? Why was Neil so...calm, or nonchalant? Did he give a shit? Andrew gritted his teeth and held more tightly to the steering wheel. "Did you think I would?"

Though he kept his eyes dutifully on the road, Andrew could see the way Neil tilted his head just slightly. "I mean," Neil said, moving to lean his head against the headrest, looking forward again. "Nicky told me I had to keep an eye on you, or you'd go for the waiter instead. I don't think he knows you as well as he thinks he does."

Andrew tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, trying to decipher Neil's words. "Do you think that?"

"That you'll go for the waiter?" Neil shook his head. "No."

There was relief that filled Andrew's body to hear that, but there was still that one voice that was nagging at him, telling him that Neil had to be jealous. Or lying. Or...something.

"Does it make you upset?" he managed to ask.

"What?" Neil asked.

"That - before."

"Why would I be upset that you've been with someone else?" Neil asked, frowning deeply. "People have past partners. I'm not stupid enough to be mad about it. Do you want the waiter?"

"I want nothing," Andrew reminded him.

The frown fell away. Neil didn't exactly smile, but one corner of his lips tugged upwards for a second. "I don't want anything else, either."

"That's not what I said."

"I know."

Silence filled the Maserati. Andrew continued tapping the steering wheel with his thumb, but this time it wasn't in irritation or anything. Rather in content and comfort in the silence they now shared.

It was only broken when Kevin spoke up from the backseat. "Are you done talking about your relationship, now?" he asked.

Neil said something back to him in French that made Kevin scowl. Andrew stepped harder on the gas, trying to get them back to Fox Tower more quickly. Days off should be spent in bed, anyways.

[mindthekat]

For an Andreil prompt, what about, childhood friends? Or maybe just them going on a date? Oh or Andreil + social media maybe?

okay so neil’s POV is HARD and this is the garbage i came up with? pls be kind

read on a03 | 2132 words | rating: t????

                                                         ______

The thought doesn’t even cross Neil’s mind until Nicky brings it up. They’re all huddled in the girls’ room for Dan-mandated movie night - something about “team bonding” - and Andrew is in an evening session with Bee which leaves Neil at the center of attention. Aaron won choosing rights this week by betting that the freshman wouldn’t even make it through a week of practice before making a “butcher” comment at Neil, which means they’re watching another stupid superhero movie. Neil is bouncing where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch, glancing at the clock every five seconds. Something is exploding on screen when Nicky leans over and nudges Neil.

“What, you got a hot date with Andrew or something?”

It shouldn’t strike Neil as odd. The question. The assumption. It’s not like he doesn’t know what dating looks like for other people. He watches Matt and Dan get dressed up on off-weekends and go to dinner or a movie. Katelyn and Aaron have a standing date on Wednesday evenings after practice. But for Neil and Andrew, everything is different. It’s been months since Baltimore but Andrew still barely lets Neil out of his sight. The longest they spend apart is Andrew’s sessions with Bee or when they’re in class and even those hours are an exercise in self-control. It’s like Andrew can’t bear the thought of Neil disappearing on him again. Not after falling to his knees on shitty carpet in a shitty motel in the middle of Baltimore with Neil’s battered and bruised face tucked between his palms. Not after feeling the evidence of Neil’s stupidity and Lola’s insanity under his own fingertips. Not after waking up to Neil trembling and whimpering no, no, no in his sleep.

No, Andrew and Neil don’t do dates. They’ve traded them for promises, and stay, and yes. They trade kisses over the hood of the Maserati and unfinished cigarettes and keys to a house and a heart. Neil isn’t sure what going out to dinner or going to a movie could give him that he isn’t already getting. Because the thing is, Neil is happy for the first time in his life. He’s allowed to want things now.

“What?” He asks Nicky, confusion written all over his face. He spares another glance at the clock, counting down the minutes until Andrew is settled in beside him again, close enough to touch. Close enough to remind Neil that he’s alive and he’s allowed to have this.

“You. Andrew. Dinner and a movie?” Nicky prods, jamming his finger into Neil’s ribcage.

“We’re not..we’re not like that.” Neil stumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones on his tongue.

Before Nicky can poke and prod any further, the door swings open and Andrew makes his way in. The sight of him alone is enough for Neils heart to stutter. Andrews participation in team movie night is never a given. It’s as tentative as his consent is. A yes one day does not guarantee a yes the next day. But his sessions with Bee lately have been leaving him more unpredictable than usual. There’s days where Andrew comes back and won’t want Neil any closer than five feet away from him. There are days where he curls up into Neils space and finds contact with every inch of his body. Toes tucked under Neils thighs while they lounge on the couch. Pinky fingers wrapped around one another while Neil works on his homework and Andrew reads. Fingers wrapped in Neils overgrown curls, mouth pressed to the curve of his throat.

Today, it seems to be the latter. He shuts the door behind him and settles in on the floor next to Neil, burying his fingers in his hair almost immediately. Neil leans into the touch instinctively, without even meaning to. He tucks himself into Andrew’s side and presses a kiss to his temple, earning him a bite to his earlobe in retaliation.

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

                                                          ______

The thought doesn’t cross Neil’s mind again until a week later when Andrew is pressed against him, inch for inch. Andrew’s palms are ghosting over his sides, pressing into the curves of his ribcage and hipbones. He’s mouthing at Neils neck and driving his hips forward and Neil feels like a string pulled taut. Every point of connection between him and Andrew feels like a fire sparking.

“Where’s Kevin?” Neil breathes, squirming under Andrew’s hold on his hips.

“Fuck if I know.” Andrew sucks a fresh hickey into the base of Neil’s throat, next to where another is fading. And fuck, Neil might have a fetish for Andrew’s neck but he sure as hell has no complaints about Andrew’s attention to his.

If someone would have told him a year ago that he would have this, that he would have Andrew and the Foxes and a future, he would have laughed. A year ago there were only minutes and hours. He lived in moments between practice and class and games and lies. He couldn’t imagine weeks or even months into the future. He couldn’t dream of a moment beyond the one he was living in.

Andrew is hot and firm where he’s pressed against Neil, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but Andrew’s breath and the scrape of teeth across his shoulder.

“Wanna blow you. Yes or no?” Andrew pushes up onto his elbows to level a stare at Neils face, searching for something in his expression. Whatever he finds there and in the breathy Yes that Neil lets out must be enough because he mouths his way down Neils bare chest. He pauses to suck another bruise into his ribcage, running his tongue along the lines of Neil’s ribs.

It’s not often that they find time to do this, take time with one another. Now that practice has started again, night practices have resumed as well. If Kevin isn’t up their asses about running drills, he’s coping with Riko’s death with the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Andrew bites into the soft flesh of Neil’s inner thigh before tonguing at the tip of Neil’s cock. He’s been rock hard since Andrew undressed him but when Andrew swallows down, he nearly whites out at the feeling. He doesn’t last long. He never does when Andrew works him up first but i when he comes he shakes under Andrew’s hands.

“Can I-“

“Shoulders only and don’t watch.” Andrew says through gritted teeth before Neil can even finish his question.

It’s like this most often, Andrew getting himself off above Neil. There are bad days, days where Andrew kicks Neil out of the room or retreats to the bathroom to take care of his own arousal but most days it’s like this. Andrew holds himself up on one elbow while Neil runs his fingers across Andrew’s shoulders. Andrew’s other hand dips below the waistband of his sweatpants and minutes later, he’s burying his face into Neil’s neck and his entire body goes rigid above Neil.

After they’ve showered, they settle against one another in the bottom bunk, Andrew’s back to the wall and Neil tucked against Andrew’s chest.

“Andrew?” Neil asks sleepily, just on the edge of being awake.

“Unf.” Andrew grunts in response.

“Would you want to go on a date sometime?”

Andrew’s even breath against Neil’s neck is the only sound in the room for what feels like hours until Neil realizes that Andrew has fallen asleep. His hand is still wound tight in the fabric of Neil’s shirt but the small puffs of breath in Neil’s ear is distinctly even, the only evidence that Andrew is capable of relaxing.

                                                         ______

It’s after Andrew’s next session that Andrew drops onto the couch where Neil is knee deep in calculus homework. He drops two tickets into Neil’s lap and twirls an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

“Friday after practice. I heard you like that shitty band that Matt always plays.” Andrew says unceremoniously, like he hasn’t just dropped two concert tickets into Neil’s lap. To anyone else, concert tickets might not mean much but Neil knows just how much Andrew is giving him with these two small strips of cardstock. It’s more than just acknowledging that he heard Neil’s question between warm sheets and Andrew’s breath against his neck. It’s acknowledging that he cares about what Neil wants, acknowledging that whatever this is between them is something he cares enough about to indulge Neil’s fantasy of normalcy.

“You heard me.” Neil says, eyes shining and jaw slightly agape.

“Of course I did. You never shut up.” Andrew says, though the quirk of the corner of his mouth betrays his smugness at knowing he’s the one to make Neil look like this.

“Andrew..” Neil says, still unbelieving. He stares at Andrew, as if he will disappear if he looks away.

“Stop looking at me like that or I’ll take Kevin.” Andrew replies, the small tilt of his lips saying otherwise.

Neil leans down to where Andrew is trying his best to scowl at him, slowly enough that Andrew could pull away if he needs to, and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.” He whispers.

If they spend the next thirty minutes making out on the couch, Neil’s calculus homework forgotten, well that’s nobody’s business.

                                                         ______

Andrew’s fingers grip Neil tightly as they weave through the crowd. The concert is standing room only and Neil already offered to stand at the back of the club so Andrew can press his back against the wall instead of leaving it to strangers. A few tables litter the edges of the standing room but they’re all full and Andrew is pulling Neil through the crowd until they’re close enough to the stage where Neil can see above the heads bobbing in front of them.

“If we’re going to go to a concert you may as well be able to see.” Andrew explains, as if he hasn’t turned the world on its axis with the amount of concessions he’s made for Neil in one week alone.

The evening is an exercise in growth and trust for them both. Andrew stands rigid through the opening act, though he does allow Neil to stand at his back with his hands on his waist. They’re not pressed close together but allowing Neil to touch him outside his direct line of vision is a first.

By the time the main act crosses the stage, Andrew is leaning into Neil’s touch. Whether it’s exhaustion from the week or just giving Neil another permission, Neil isn’t sure but he hooks his chin over Andrew’s shoulder and crosses his arms over Andrew’s stomach. “We don’t have to stay long.” Neil says, instead of I’m here and I see you.

“Shut up.” Andrew says despite curling into Neil’s lithe body. And Neil presses small kisses wherever he can reach: the side of Andrew’s neck, his cheek, the shell of his ear. The music is familiar, some songs Matt has played in the changing room after practice or during team dinners. Neil isn’t familiar with the lyrics by any means but between the sway of bodies around him and the heat of Andrew’s body, the lyrics strike him harder than music usually does.

'Cause somebody hurt me

Somebody hurt me

But I'm staying alive

And I can tell

When you get nervous

You think being yourself means being unworthy

And it's hard to love with a heart that's hurting

“Yes or no Andrew?”

Andrew is turning around in his grip before the question leaves Neil’s mouth, his hands finding Neil’s hair and tugging until Neil’s mouth is sliding against his. For a moment the crowd melts away and it’s just the two of them wrapped up in each other, pressed together at the chest and at the hips. Neil never takes Andrew for granted and anytime he has Andrew’s lips sliding against his, he is acutely aware of how lucky he is but getting to hold Andrew tight against him in a crowd of people is something else entirely. It’s stupid that he should feel possesive after everything they’ve been through. Andrew has shown him in more than words that he chooses Neil but there’s something that unfurls in his chest at knowing that Andrew is his.

“Idiot.” Andrew mumbles when they pull away for a moment, as if he can read Neil’s mind.

Their surroundings come back to them in pieces. They’re hardly aware of the song ending as they push through the crowd to make it out of the club. Neil reaches over the center console of Maserati in silent request. Andrew takes his hand wordlessly as he rolls his eyes.

“It’s just a hand.” He says.

“Its your hand.”

[darkblueboxs]

If you're taking requests, maybe the foxes reacting to soft andreil? I love seeing their relationship through outside perspectives

Sorry for the delay! I ended up with two very different ideas for this and wrote both of them. I’ll be posting the other one in the next week or so! [EDIT: Here it is!]This was great fun to write. Thank you for the request.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Read here or on AO3

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#1 Dan

Dan raps her knuckles against the door to the monster’s flat and waits. Nicky greets her with an impressive mop of bedhair and a baffled expression which smooths over only when Neil darts past, citing brunch with Dan as his excuse for being awake at such a thoroughly reasonable hour on a Sunday morning. He’s in high spirits, from what Dan can tell, rolling on the balls of his feet as they wait for the elevator to arrive. Dan is ready to put it down to excitement over their plans – she has a stack of potential recruits under her arm thicker than Les Misérables for them to discuss, hopefully with a stack of pancakes of equal height on the side. Then she spots the light bruise peeking over the hem of Neil’s collar, and draws a very different conclusion about the source of Neil’s good mood.

She smiles as they step into the elevator, but keeps the observation to herself. While some members of the team love to badger Neil for the slightest insight into his relationship, Dan is willing to push her curiosity aside for the sake of Neil’s privacy. He has plenty other teammates to pester him without her jumping on the bandwagon.

Just before the doors slide shut, an arm bursts through the gap, forcing them open. Andrew is as stoic and terrifying as ever (not that Dan would ever admit it) even while wearing Neil’s foxprint-patterned pyjama bottoms. The quickened rise and fall of his chest is the only hint that he ran to get here.

Neil raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his underdressed partner.

Andrew lobs something at Neil which bounces off his chest and lands on the floor between his feet. Neil stoops to scoop it up, and Dan sees that it’s his wallet.

“Thanks.”

“Idiot,” Andrew huffs. He retracts his arm, and the doors slide shut on the sight of him stalking back to their dorm.

Neil taps the wallet against his hand a couple times before sliding it into the wallet.

“You’re both idiots if you think I’m letting you pay for brunch,” Dan says wryly.

Neil shakes his head. “I said I was going to pick up some stuff at the store afterwards. But thanks. Brunch is on me, though.”

“We’ll see,” Dan says, which means no. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That was sweet of him.”

The corner of Neil’s mouth twitches. “Nah. He’s just making sure I come back with the junk food I promised him.”

“Sure.” And, oh, Dan had been trying to be good, but she really can’t help herself any longer. “So, did you guys mean to give each other matching hickeys, or was that just a fun little accident?”

Neil slaps his hand to his neck and groans.

All in all, it’s a great morning.

 #2 Kevin

Aaron’s trial is coming up. Kevin wouldn’t care (well, he would, but for different reasons) except that it’s making the cousins snippy and fractious. More so than usual. Andrew isn’t sleeping properly, although he would deny that it had any relation to the trial. Unfortunately, his insomnia is contagious, which ends with Neil losing focus at their night practice, having spent the best part of a week running on fumes and gatorade.

Kevin has been patient – patient by his standards, anyway – but the third fumbled catch in a row snaps his temper like brittle bone.

“Get the fuck off my court, Josten.” Kevin says, smacking the base of his racquet against the floor.

“Fuck you,” Neil answers reflexively. He stops to push his lengthening bangs back from his face.

“I’m not joking. You’re in no state to play. Get the fuck out.” Kevin wishes Neil would take it as the blessing it is, a night to re-focus and re-calibrate, but instead he’s glaring Kevin down like he just asked him to eat sewage.

Neil turns away from him to send another ball barrelling towards the goal. It misses by an entire foot.

“Neil,” Kevin says sharply, readying for a fight that neither of them have the energy nor patience for.

Before he can begin, the doors to the court bang open. Andrew stands in the entrance, arms crossed. It’s the expression that ends an argument before it’s had time to start; Kevin knows it far, far too well.

Andrew leads Neil away to the showers while Kevin continues his drills.

When he’s finished washing up, he finds the pair in the team lounge, collapsed on the wider of the couches. Neil is asleep, slumped into Andrew’s side. Andrew looks up as Kevin enters, but he doesn’t move his hand from its resting place in Neil’s hair. Although Neil was the only one of the pair training that night, Andrew’s hair is plastered against his head as though he, too, is fresh out of the shower. Kevin tries not to consider the implications.

They wait in silence for a few minutes, watching as Neil sleeps, properly sleeps, for the first time in far too long. Neither are willing to disturb him, but the night is late and Kevin has a whole host of classes waiting for him in the morning.

“I’ll walk back,” says Kevin. Andrew meets his gaze for a long moment before nodding briefly. The bags under his eyes betray him.

Kevin darts back into the lockers to pick up Neil’s abandoned kit bag. When he passes them again, Andrew has slouched onto his side, having manoeuvred Neil in front of him so they can both lie comfortably. His arm is slung protectively around Neil’s waist like Andrew is prepared to beat off the world to keep him there.

Kevin knows they spend more nights in each other’s bunks than out of them in the dorm, but somehow they’re always up and away before anyone else is awake enough to give them any hassle over it. Kevin doesn’t care, but Nicky can be overbearing at the best of times, and Aaron is… well, Aaron. But here, in the privacy of an empty stadium, it looks like Neil has finally found enough security to drop off at last, and Andrew looks ready to follow. Kevin shuts the door behind him, not quite smiling, but close. It was strange to some, the idea of Neil and Andrew, but anyone who saw them curled up together would see it plain as day. They just fitted.

The next day, Neil is closer to being himself again, and no more is said on the matter.

 #4 Matt

Matt has to admit that press duty with Neil is never boring. The interviewers seem to share his opinion, visibly perking up when Neil follows Matt into the room. They lost to the Bearcats, but it was close enough that Matt doesn’t have to lie when he says that he’s proud of the team’s performance today.

“Some are saying that the failure of the defence line in later stages was due to Minyard’s performance in goal in the second half. How would you respond to that?

Matt doesn’t know why he bothers opening his mouth; the question may be directed to him, but he knows damn well that a boulder in the shape of Neil’s fury is already barrelling in this hapless reporter’s direction. “Well-”

“Last time I checked, this was a team sport,” Neil says loudly. “Was I hallucinating that, or has there been a few rule changes since yesterday?”

Matt isn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Coach had told Matt to keep an eye on their resident fire-starter as though anyone was at all capable of controlling Neil when there was a mic in front of him. Matt feels sorry for the poor sucker that will one day be assigned to the role of Neil’s publicist, because he’s sure that Neil will drive them into an early grave alongside Matt’s.

“You have to admit that the number of goals that he let in-”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that his entire defence line had already played two full quarters before he even stepped foot on court. People get tired the longer a game goes on, of course defence is going to suffer in the second half. But sure, keep pinning it on the goalie you clearly have it in for.”

Matt claps a hand on Neil’s back. “What he said,” he agrees, staring down the reporter.

They take no further questions.

Matt doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he leaves the showers to see Andrew and Neil alone in the locker room he ducks back out of sight. He walks into at least one dramatic confrontation amongst his teammates per week, and sometimes the best way to deal with the daily bouts of fox drama is to hide and wait for the storm to pass.

“Point me to where I asked you to lead my own personal crusade.” Andrew’s flat tones echo off the tiled floor. Matt regrets leaving his Ipod in his bag. The conversation doesn’t seem too personal to overhear, but Andrew and Neil have never been the easiest reads.

“I’m tired of them talking shit about you just because they have a vendetta against anyone with your…” Neil trails off. Matt imagines him to be making several expressive hand gestures; it’s hard to condense all of Andrew’s history and circumstances into one word. “…everything,” Neil settles on.

“Your principles should not intersect with my business.”

“Even if it could affect your future career?” Neil’s words are met, unsurprisingly, with silence. “Besides, yours do.”

“Explain.”

“When I first came here, you told Nicky to back off. Not out of concern for me. Because of your principles.”

This time, the silence stretches so long that Matt doesn’t think Andrew is going to answer.

“Point,” Andrew concedes.

“Besides, is it so bad that I’m standing up for you?”

“Only when it’s making new enemies for you. How many does one man need?”

“I’ve got room for a few more,” Neil says. There’s a rustle of movement, and, oh, are they kissing? Matt strongly suspects that they are kissing. It’s more than his life is worth to look. He takes a few steps back, rattles his kit loudly and makes as much noise as possible before entering the locker room. The pair are a safe distance apart by the time he enters, and Matt gives them a probably-not-convincingly-casual nod before busying himself with his change of clothes.

The pair spend the journey home holed up together at the back of the bus, and if he suspects that they’re doing a little more than talking, Matt keeps it to himself.

They’ve earned a little privacy, after all.

 #5 Aaron

“Well, maybe if you stopped and took the time to, I don’t know, explain literally anything that you do, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”

“Aaron,” says Bee, a gentle reprimand. He isn’t in the mood to hear it. His attention remains on his brother, who’s features remain the same stony, impassive blank that they have in almost every joint session to date. It’s an expression that makes Aaron want to tear his hair out, or kick his brother’s face in, or both.

“What would you like me to explain?” says Andrew, more of a challenge than an offer. Aaron snorts, because, where to fucking begin?

“How about we start with your little fuck-buddy, seeing as you’re so keen to start on mine.” Earlier that week, Andrew had returned early from a class to find Aaron and Katelyn together in their dorm room. The result, while not outright violent, had been deeply unpleasant for all involved. And of course, Andrew was being an ass about it.

“Aaron. We’ve talked about this. How can you expect Andrew to talk about Katelyn respectfully if you won’t offer the same respect to his own partner?”

Aaron scoffs. “It’s not the same.”

Andrew’s eyebrow… it doesn’t quirk, but it twitches. “Oh?”

Aaron gestures vaguely. “You know what I mean.”

“I can assure you that I don’t.”

“Me and Katelyn. You and Neil. It isn’t the same.”

“How so?” Andrew’s tone isn’t in the danger zone yet, but it’s edging towards it.

“I’m not talking about the gay thing. I’m talking about…” The hand Aaron was waving clenches into a fist as he drops it into his lap. “Don’t make me say it.”

Andrew and Bee share a look over his head.

“Aaron,” says Bee.

“I just, fucking…” Aaron grapples with words, struggling to find a combination that won’t rip them apart any worse than they already have been. “How the fuck can you expect me to believe that you and him… that you’re real. That you’re normal, that you’re like us, after everything those fuckers did to you. What makes him so different?”

Andrew watches him. Just when Aaron resigns himself to the fact that no answer is coming, Andrew speaks. “If I ask him to stop, he stops.”

Aaron bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he thinks he might have drawn blood. “It can’t be that simple.”

Andrew shrugs.

“How?”

Andrew’s eyes flicker upwards, like he would rather be anywhere else, having any other conversation in the world than this one. “We have a system. We don’t touch each other without asking first. We listen to each other. We talk. What more do you need me to say?”

Aaron falls silent. He doesn’t know what he needs from his brother, still, but it’s something.

“I have a question in return,” Andrew’s eyes flick to Bee. He isn’t looking for permission, but she nods in encouragement nonetheless. “Katelyn. What makes her so different?” Andrew meets his gaze dead-on as he turns Aaron’s own words back on him. “How can you trust her, after everything that bitch Tilda did to you?”

And finally, it all clicks into place.

Aaron forces himself to look his brother in the eyes. So much like his, yet at the same time so different. “Okay,” he concedes at last. “I see.”

Because, at last, he does.

 #7 Allison

Neil appears at Allison’s door with a black eye, a bust lip, and the words “don’t freak out,” spilling from his mouth before she can get so much as a word in.

“Great start,” she says, pulling him in. “Who do I need to kill?”

“My shoelace came undone and I ate shit while I was on my run. I just need enough makeup that I can get through class without looking like I’ve been in a fight again. Do you know how many of my lecturers have taken me aside to give me the domestic abuse hotline?”

“You should know how to do this yourself by now.” Allison rolls her eyes as she leads Neil through to the table.

“You’re better at it,” he admits grudgingly, and oh, doesn’t that just warm her heart to hear.

“Nice try. You’re still taking me out for coffee after this.”

Neil pulls a face, and Allison laughs. It doesn’t take long – Allison has treated him in far, far worse shape, as much as she’d rather not think about it – and soon there’s only the faintest smudge around Neil’s eye.

“Can I tempt you to some mascara? Glitter?” Allison asks, waggling her eyebrows as she spreads the contents of her makeup bag out for his inspection.

“Maybe next time,” says Neil, “When I’m not going to a calculus lecture.”

“But that’s the best place for it.” Allison dabs the tip of his nose with her brush, and Neil’s face scrunches up as he tries to hold back a sneeze. His hair flops back down over his forehead as he moves, falling into his eyes.

“Don’t move just yet,” Allison says, yanking a drawer open and fumbling for the kitchen scissors. “I’ve been meaning to deal with that mop for weeks, and right now I have you trapped.”

“Oh, no,” Neil says flatly, but still he surrenders herself to her demands. Wise move.

“Perfect,” says Allison a few minutes later, ruffling Neil’s hair to shake away the last loose strands. “Ready for the red carpet now. I hope there aren’t any cute guys in your maths class, or Andrew is going to go mad with jealousy.”

Neil snorts. “He’s not really the type.”

“Mhmm,” says Allison, because in her experience, everyone is the type.

Speaking of the psychotic little devil himself, Andrew bursts through the door just as Allison is brushing up the last of the trimmings.

“Hey,” Neil says, apparently impervious to Andrew’s thunderous entrance. Andrew ignores the greeting, taking hold of Neil’s chin to turn his face from side to side.

“Kevin said you fell,” he says, relinquishing the grip. Allison half-turns away, pretending to busy herself tidying but really listening, because the monster’s overbearing-boyfriend performances are rarely seen in public yet endlessly entertaining.

“Shoelaces. Who could have seen it coming?”

“I did. And warned you. Twice.”

Neil winces. “My bad.”

Andrew mutters something under his breath that seems to involve the words kill you. The day Allison understands their relationship is the day that she gives up on any and all gossip for the rest of her life.

Then, Andrew pauses, distracted. “Did you trip and fall onto a pair of sheers?”

“Allison gave me a haircut. How does it look?”

Andrew holds his hand in front of Neil’s face. When Neil nods, Andrew runs it quickly through his hair, gently tugging at the roots as he goes. “Awful.”

“Hey,” Allison interrupts, outraged. They both start, and Andrew’s hand drops away, like they had forgotten she was there. Which was the point, really. She holds the scissors in Andrew’s direction. “You’re next, scraggy.”

“When I’m dead,” Andrew replies flatly. It’s clear he isn’t joking. Neil shakes his head at them both.

“Come on, then,” Allison says. “Neil’s taking me for coffee. Give us a ride and I’ll buy you the sugariest, most expensive drink on the menu. I’m hoping the diabetes will finish you off if lung cancer falls through.”

Andrew glances between them. “Fine.”

Sugar and Neil; the keys to Andrew’s stony little heart.

 #8 Nicky

Nicky is fully capable of responding to his cousin’s newfound domestic happiness with maturity and decorum.

He just chooses not to.

This has nearly ended in violence no less than eight times. But really, how can he be expected to let it lie when his cousin, who came to him an unruly, violent teen to whom any conversation was like pulling teeth with plastic tweezers, is, for the first time, experiencing the gay teen college romance Nicky could only have dreamed of?

With his fiancée a million miles away, Nicky has to live vicariously when it comes to matters of the heart. There is no better subject for this than his violent baby cousin, who, it seems, isn’t such a baby anymore.

Nicky is beyond late for his class already when he realises that his laptop is dead. He had been skyping with Eric until ass-o-clock in the morning, forgot to plug it in before passing out in his bunk and is paying for it three-fold. He has two options; pencil and paper (what is he, a toddler?) or steal someone’s laptop. The answer is both clear and obvious.

Andrew’s is the first to hand. He most likely won’t surface until noon, by which time Nicky will have returned from class, leaving him none the wiser. The perfect crime.

Or it is the perfect crime until Nicky opens the laptop in the middle of his seminar to a webpage that is filled with very, very unsafe-for-classroom content.

Nicky slams the laptop shut. It wasn’t a video, none of the sites Nicky knew from his own fits of late-night loneliness. Large blocks of text, diagrams that were more analytical than downright pornographic. Nicky slides the laptop open again, just enough for the screen to light up once more, and tabs up. No, not porn. Informative. Educational.

The girl beside him, although unable to see his screen, is giving Nicky some very strange looks. Nicky glances back to the laptop before sliding it shut once more. Pencil and paper will have to do.

The class is drier than dirt, leaving Nicky’s mind with far too much space to think. A dangerous pastime in Nicky’s case, Eric would say teasingly. Nicky had assumed – well, not that he had thought about it, much, but Andrew always seemed so set and sure of himself that it was hard to imagine him googling how-to guides like an acne-riddled teen the night before prom. His apparent innocence is weirdly adorable. Not a word Nicky uses out-loud in his cousin’s presence, but true all the same.

Nicky remembers his first time. Awkward, uncomfortable, and involving entirely the wrong set of genitals. He can only hope Andrew and Neil’s is better.

He shouldn’t get involved. He really, really, shouldn’t.

Nicky slips the laptop back into place mere moments before Andrew slouches into the living space. Nicky watches him as the coffee-maker gurgles away, thinking.

“Andrew.”

Andrew glances up. Nicky isn’t sure what he reads in his face, but it must be setting off alarm bells, because his hands move almost unconsciously to his sleeves. Nicky holds his hands up.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I just…” Oh, this is a lot more awkward than Nicky anticipated. “You know, I’m always here for you. If there’s anything you want to talk about.” He clears his throat. “If you have any questions…”

Andrew’s eyes narrow. They flick in the direction of his desk. Nicky remembers, far too late, Andrew’s impossibly perfect memory. He would remember the exact position he left his laptop in. Nicky is busted.

“Don’t borrow my laptop,” Andrew snarls. The coffee brewer clicks, and it may be the only thing that saves Nicky’s life.

“I’m sorry! I was in a rush!” Nicky says weekly. “If it’s any consolation, the guy who sits behind me now thinks I’m a grade-A pervert.”

Andrew slams a mug down on the counter so hard he almost cracks it. “One more word. One more.”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise, I’ve been there, okay?”

Andrew takes his coffee and his laptop and leaves without another word. Nicky counts it as a blessing.

The next day, he’s working his way through the mother of all essays when Andrew enters the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Nicky keeps working until Andrew pulls a chair over to Nicky’s desk and sits in it. He stops typing mid-sentence, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Everything okay, Andrew?”

“I want you to take a moment and remember how many knives I have on me right now.”

“A lot, I assume.”

“A lot,” Andrew confirms. “If I had any other choice in the world, I would take it. But I have you. So, I’m going to ask you something, and you are going to be calm and level and mature and everything that you usually are not when you answer.”

“Of course,” Nicky says in a heartbeat. He can’t think of a single time Andrew has ever come to him for help, not even when he was wrapped up in bed and coughing his lungs out the day before his AP Calc exam. Nicky has never been more determined to get something right in his life.

“How,” Andrew says, stops, starts again. Today is full of firsts; Andrew is usually so careful and measured with his words. “How do I do it without hurting him?”

Nicky’s heart is ready to melt or break or explode, maybe all at once. “Oh, Andrew.”

“The knives, Nicky. Remember the knives.”

“Okay,” says Nicky, and he tells Andrew everything he can. He wants, more than anything, for Andrew to be safe and happy, and if it involves going into details that even Nicky is squeamish about discussing with family, then that’s what he’ll do.

He offers to write out a list of reliable books and websites for Andrew to check out, ones he used himself and others Eric recommended to him. Andrew shakes his head.

“Just tell me. I’ll remember them.”

When they’re done, Nicky almost claps Andrew on the shoulder. He thinks better of it, hand hovering mid-air before he withdraws it. “Andrew.”

Andrew is half-way out the door, but he stops, which is more than Nicky expected.

“You’ll be fine.”

Andrew huffs, and abruptly disappears. Nicky smiles to himself as he turns back to his essay.

It took him a long time to piece it all together, but the truth is that Andrew really can be quite sweet, in his own terrifying way.

Nicky wonders how long it will be before he has to give Neil the sex talk too. Maybe he should offer.

Best not to; he has some self-preservation instincts, after all.

 #9 Renee

Renne likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. Some of his quirks are more obvious than others, however; it doesn’t take a student of human character to notice that when Andrew wants to spar, it’s usually because he has something on his mind.

Renee is hardly in a position to judge, not when she finds the cut and blow of a vicious fistfight as cathartic as he does. There’s still a piece of Natalie Shields underneath all of Renee’s growth like the pit at the heart of a peach. Sometimes the best way of holding her down is by letting her out in controlled increments. Give her the inch so she won’t take the mile.

As usual, it is only when they have beaten each other to exhaustion and back that Andrew is ready to talk. They sit cross-legged in the centre of the room, slurping down apple-juice cartons like kids in the playground, and finally, Andrew speaks.

“I want you to train Neil.”

Renee sets her carton down. “I thought Matt was teaching him to box.”

“He’s a shit boxer.”

“Neil or Matt?”

“Both.”

Renee shakes her head. She reaches back to pull out her hair tie, letting her bangs tumble back into their usual place. “Is there a reason Neil hasn’t asked me himself?”

Andrew is silent. There it is; the heart of the matter.

Renee sighs. “I’m not going to force Neil to train with me if he doesn’t want to.”

“I don’t force Neil to do anything,” Andrew says sharply. Renee winces; it was a poor choice of words on her part.

“Why do you think he needs it?”

“Matt is teaching him how to box. It’s not the same as real fighting.”

Renee hums. “Can’t he do something for fun?”

“That’s not the point. Besides,” Andrew pauses. “Matt only knows how to fight like the fuck-off giant that he is.”

Renee can’t argue with that; Matt never had to learn the same style of combat that she and Andrew did. He may teach Neil how to throw a good punch, but there’s a big difference in stance and strategy when your opponent is a foot taller than you. Renee and Andrew learned that the hard way.

“And who is it that you think Neil is going to be fighting?”

Andrew waves one arm in an all-encompassing gesture. “Have you met him?”

“Andrew.”

“Renee,” he shoots back, imitating her tone and inflection.

“What did he say when you suggested that I teach him?”

Andrew scrunches up his features in an imitation of Neil’s ugh face. “He said that he gets enough bruises as it is.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t roll his eyes, but his eyebrows twitch as though he’s considering it. “He also said he doesn’t need to get any better. Because he…” Andrew grimaces. Sharing is still tough for him, even after years of therapy and trust. “He has me to protect him.”

“As I said,” Renee says, smiling. “He’s not wrong.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He has his moments.”

They finish their juice boxes in silence.

“Well,” says Renee, getting back to her feet. Her legs may be going stiff, but there’s still some fight left in her. There always is. “I may not be able to train Neil, but at least I can train his bodyguard to the best of my ability.” She holds her hand out to Andrew. After a moment of careful consideration, he takes it, using the pull to swing himself to his feet. “One more round?”

Andrew nods, determination setting in his eyes like concrete. “One more round.”

Renee likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. This time, as they trade hits and kicks, it isn’t anger or frustration powering Andrew’s movements; it’s something far more powerful.

She thinks – hopes – prays – that the worst of Neil’s fights are behind them. All the same, she sleeps a little easier knowing that, should the day come, Andrew will be at his back with a knife in each hand.

That’s love, after all.

.

Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought

Still open to requests!

[knox-knocks]

The Absence Of You ~ Chap1

read on ao3

Neil Josten had been dead for two weeks before Andrew acknowledged that Neil had meant something to him. Before, Andrew spent those two weeks locking himself in his bedroom or spending hours smoking cigarettes until he could almost feel his lungs growing black and shriveled. He thought about it a lot in those two weeks, smoking until he couldn’t breathe anymore, until he couldn’t feel anymore.

It was easy to ignore his feelings for Neil when the junkie was always around and pestering Andrew. Now that he’s gone, all that’s left of Neil is the nagging ache Andrew carries around in his heart. He’s stuffed it away and snuffled it as best he could, but the more he tried to silence it, the more it grew until the ache was a ragged, bleeding hole in his chest.

Andrew took a swig straight from the whiskey bottle as he stared out across the Fox Tower parking lot. He’d made it more than half-way through the whiskey before his fingers started to feel numb and his hands stopped shaking. When he moved too fast, his vision blurred. Another couple swings of the alcohol and Andrew would be drunk. If he finished the bottle, he wouldn’t even remember most of it.

Andrew knew he was pushing his limits, and that it was especially dangerous to be drinking alone on the roof on Fox Tower, but Andrew couldn’t find it in himself to care. His body felt hot all over, as if he were getting a fever. Not even the cool March air could soothe the flames licking across his skin. Maybe it was the whiskey. Andrew took another swallow anyway.

He didn’t want to go back to sleep, to the cruel clutches of the nightmare that woke him, sweat-slicked and shaking. Andrew was familiar with nightmares, familiar with the way it made him weak and vulnerable when he first woke up from them. In the second it took him to wake up fully and gather his bearings, emotion always tended to seep through to rest at the top of his skin before he could sink back into apathy. Andrew didn’t want emotions, and he didn’t want anyone to see him vulnerable. Andrew Minyard wasn't vulnerable.

Andrew knew very keenly how his usual nightmares left him choking with the phantom sensation of hands on him. He would never grow used to it, but he at least he recognized it. But this nightmare was so much worse.

Worse, because it was about Neil. Worse, because Neil only lived in Andrew’s dreams until he was gone when Andrew opened his eyes. Worse, because Andrew had to watch Neil die over and over again until he could fight his way to consciousness.

Andrew took another gulp of the alcohol, closing his eyes as the liquid burned going down his throat. He willed the images of the dream to go away as he yanked his emotions back into a box he could keep under lock and key. If he could, he would rip it clean out of his chest and throw it off the roof and let it crash to the cement below. Andrew didn’t want them, not when they cracked him open from the inside out.

Eyes flying open, Andrew threw the whiskey off the roof and didn’t wait for it to shatter at the bottom before he went back inside, slamming the door behind him. For good measure, he slammed it again. Then he kicked it. It still wasn’t enough so he punched the sturdy plaster beside the metal door, again and again until his knuckles were bloody.

He wanted to tear apart the entire building, burn the whole world down until nothing was left but smoke and rubble. Rage flickered inside him like an old monster, snarling with every kick and punch Andrew landed on the wall. When Andrew thought the anger would consume him, his fist broke through the plaster and a hand tapped lightly on his shoulder.

Renee stood a couple steps down the stairs, backing up to give Andrew more space when he whipped around, his bleeding fist still clenched. She watched him with calm eyes while he reeled in his anger and smothered the flames threatening to overwhelm him. He stared at Renee blankly. With the anger gone, his energy was sapped right out of him.

Renee hadn’t stopped looking at him with those sad, tired eyes since the Foxes got back from Baltimore with one less loud-mouthed striker. Andrew hadn’t spoken a word to her or anyone else since he had threatened the FBI agents when they didn’t let him see Neil in the hospital. He fell silent and stayed that way when they announced that Nathaniel Wesninski was dead and his uncle was coming to collect his ashes. He remembered being angry then, too, but mostly he felt empty.

“You need to talk about this, Andrew,” Renee said quietly. Even if Andrew’s tongue wasn’t stuck to the roof of his mouth, he wouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t need anything. He certainly didn’t need to talk.

“We all miss Neil. He was family and it hurts that he’s gone. It’s okay to hurt, to be upset that he’s not with us anymore. But –” Renee cut off at Andrew’s glare. She knew full well he didn’t want to hear any of that religious ‘he’s in a better place’ bullshit. “But we’ve all been talking to Betsy about it. She helps, I swear she does.”

Andrew shook his head. Bee had called a couple times in the past few weeks, but Andrew let it go to voicemail every time. Bee’s office had always been a sort of safe-space for Andrew, and it still was, but Andrew couldn’t handle walking in there at the moment. The thought made him feel unstable.

“Do you want to spar?” Renee suggested. Her voice was gentle like it always was, and Andrew knew that Renee would never pity him, but her tone made him snarl. The anger was back, fast as a whip, sharp as a blade.

“I don’t want anything,” he snapped, voice raspy from disuse. Andrew stopped himself from clearing his throat and pushed past Renee, leaving her behind in the stairwell. “Leave me alone.”

Andrew didn’t go back to sleep even though he returned to his bunk bed. Neither Kevin or Nicky were awake, evident by their loud snores from each of their beds, but Andrew suspected Aaron was only pretending to sleep. Andrew’s scowl was shrouded by the cover of darkness, but he was sure Aaron could still feel the waves of anger wafting off of him.

The anger didn’t go away until night bled into morning. Andrew watched the dark sky fade to a dull gray with droopy, burning eyes. When he heard the tale-tale sounds of his roommates waking, Andrew pressed his back to the wall and curled up under the blanket. Above him, Nicky shifted in his bunk and mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep.

Kevin hadn’t made him go to practice the day before so it was likely he would try to get Andrew out of bed today. He knew Andrew didn’t like to be touched – especially when he was asleep – and Kevin had some semblance of a survival instinct, but Andrew kept a hand wrapped around a knife under his pillow anyway. If Kevin knew what was good for him, he’d leave Andrew alone completely.

The yellow bruises around his throat from Andrew’s hands still hadn’t faded, after all. Kevin was sure to remember it.

When Andrew heard Kevin’s heavy footsteps pause by him, Andrew tensed, but Kevin only walked to the bathroom and left him alone with his knife and blankets. Aaron was the next to get up, by the sounds of the creak from the opposite bunk, then Nicky when Kevin came back and harassed him to get his ass out of bed. Still, all of them let Andrew be.

When the room cleared out and he was sure the others had left the dorm, Andrew pushed the blanket off of him and sat up. His head throbbed from sleep deprivation and too many missed meals and every muscle seemed to ache despite Andrew mostly staying in bed all day. The alcohol couldn’t have helped, either. His knuckles were still crusted with dried blood from last night and they were starting bruise to a swollen, dark purple.

Andrew pushed himself up and ignored the growing migraine to clean off the cuts. There was no point in bandaging them, so Andrew left his knuckles to air out and wandered into the kitchen. Lately, everything he tried to eat was tasteless ash in his mouth, so Andrew skipped breakfast and sipped at a water instead of the rest of the vodka Nicky had stashed away. Bee should be proud of him.

Time passed slowly, and all at once. In five minutes or five hours the team was back from the gym so Andrew retreated from the living room back to the bedroom to avoid them. But of course, he was never that lucky. He’d just crawled back into bed and pulled the many blankets to his chin when Nicky walked in and crouched down in front of him. Andrew wanted to hate him for it but he couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

Aside from Andrew, Nicky had probably taken Neil’s death the hardest out of all of the Monsters. Andrew didn’t care how well the Upperclassmen were handling it, he only had enough space to care about his people and that was it. But Nicky had been grieving since the moment they got back to the dorms. The monsters spent spring break over at Abby’s house, and Nicky had spent a lot of time in her arms, crying quietly or loudly. Crying, one way or another.

Andrew didn’t know how one person could cry so much. Nicky cried, but Andrew didn’t. His chest was caved in, collapsing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Even if Andrew had the air in him to cry, he wouldn’t, couldn’t cry.

Between mourning for a person that didn’t really exist and the practices that only grew more intense and rigid since the Foxes were eliminated from the season, Nicky looked exhausted. There were dark bruises under his eyes that Andrew was sure matched his own and his face looked constantly red and puffy. Sometimes Nicky’s sobs were in Andrew’s nightmares, too.

Nicky didn’t know what Neil was to Andrew, didn’t know that Neil was anything to him at all, but he knew that Andrew was only getting worse. Nicky’s sad puppy-dog glances in Andrew’s direction were only increasing and although his attempts at checking up on Andrew were always ignored, he kept prodding anyway.

“Do you need anything?” Nicky asked gently. Andrew grit his teeth and considered pretending he didn’t hear. But maybe if he answered once, Nicky would leave him alone. Andrew continued to stare right through Nicky but he shook his head slowly.

“Are you sure?” Nicky said after he realized that was all he was going to get out of Andrew. “I can make you something to eat. I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich, you know I would. I make the best grilled cheese.”

He did, but Andrew was never going to admit that. The thought of food didn’t make him feel so queasy anymore, and his stomach hurt from not eating for so long. Andrew thought about it and nodded once. He ignored the way Nicky’s face almost lit up and fought the urge to close his eyes and give into the heavy exhaustion. The ache in Andrew’s chest grew.

A few minutes later Nicky returned with a plate stacked with grilled cheese sandwiches and left it on the desk with a glass of water. “Do you need anything else?” he asked. When Andrew didn’t respond Nicky nodded solemnly and got up to leave the room. “If you need anything else, text me and I’ll get it for you.”

The door behind Nicky closed with a quiet click and Andrew let the silence envelope him once more.

Andrew only picked at the sandwiches despite not having eaten anything more than a bowl of ice cream the morning before. He tore the sandwich into tiny pieces with his fingers and ate about half of it and left the rest. He washed it down with a couple sips of water and then shoved both the water and the rest of the sandwiches away. At least it was something.

On the bed, Andrew’s phone buzzed with a text message. It was either Bee checking up on him again or it was Wilds’ unsaved number asking when he would be back at practice. Andrew scowled. He didn’t want to return to practice, ever, but he promised Neil he would get the Foxes to championships and Andrew intended to keep that promise. He didn’t give a fuck about Exy but he gave a fuck about Neil. Andrew always kept his promises, even to a dead man.

Even so, the Foxes weren’t going to championships this year so Andrew didn’t plan on going to practice as regularly as everyone else would. There was really no point when their season was cut short. He’ll go to the gym so he doesn’t lose his strength, but Exy could wait a couple of weeks. Let the team be mad about it.

The phone buzzed again. Sighing, Andrew decided to get it over with and see who it was. When he grabbed his phone, he was surprised to find that he didn’t recognize the number at all. More, the message made him pause.

Shortly after Baltimore, Andrew broke his old phone in half and threw the remains at Kevin’s head when people wouldn’t stop messaging him. Since then, Nicky him got a new phone, a gift to ‘make him feel better’. It was a smart phone, sleek in style with a sturdy black case with a picture of a white knife decal on it. He still didn’t have most of the Foxes in his new phone, only his monsters and Renee. Wymack and Bee were in there as well, on speed dial like on his old phone

But this number had no business messaging Andrew out of the blue. He didn’t give his new number to anyone outside of his group and no one would have given his number away without his permission. Andrew opened the blinking messages and stared at it.

The first text message was an address to an apartment in Summerville, South Carolina. The town was about forty-five minutes south from campus, too far for anyone who went to Palmetto to live. The second message said only, Don’t tell anyone. Come alone.

Andrew thought about deleting the messages and forgetting about them, but something like anxiety was spreading through his chest. He tapped his thumbs on the side of his phone as he thought. Then he texted back a simple, wrong number.

The phone screen went dark as Andrew waited for a reply. Maybe the person realized Andrew wasn’t the person he meant to send that to and he’d never get a response. When he was about to put his phone away and forget about it, his phone lit up with another text. Andrew’s blood went cold.

The message said, Andrew Minyard?

Quickly, Andrew typed out on fingers he was forcing to keep steady, who is this and pressed send.

The reply came longer this time. Ten minutes had passed, long enough for Andrew to boot up Kevin’s computer and look up the area code of the number. It really was from Summerville, but Andrew didn’t know anyone from there. He had no idea who could be texting him.

He was in the process of searching the rest of the number when his phone buzzed with the incoming text message. Andrew scrambled for it, his hand sending it flying to the ground. He crouched down and fished it from where it landed on top of Nicky’s dirty clothes. The message had one word, a name:

Abram.

~ ~ ~

This could be a trap, Andrew’s mind supplied, or even a sick prank. Neil Abram Josten was dead.

But what if he wasn’t? If anyone was crafty enough to escape death a thousand times it would be Neil. After all, none of the Foxes actually saw Neil’s body. They’d accepted that Neil was gone, that he was never coming back. But there was no proof he was actually dead. Andrew’s phone was burning a hole in his pocket, four little messages from someone claiming to be Neil, Abram, scorching his skin.

He didn’t let himself think it. He didn’t himself think that Neil could still be alive. Andrew was self-destructive, but he wouldn’t put himself through that.

Andrew swerved in and out of the mid-day traffic, ignoring the blare of honks from the angry drivers veering away to avoid hitting him. Instead of demanding a picture before he left the dorm, Andrew grabbed his keys and wallet and left the dorm and got in his car, ignoring Nicky and Kevin’s inquiries about where he was going and headed straight for the Interstate.

Even if Neil was really gone, whoever really sent the messages was dead as well. Rage was no longer a flicker in his chest, but a roar in his bones that smothered something much smaller and much quieter. Something that Andrew didn’t dare call hope.

Andrew made it to Summerville in thirty minutes flat. His phone had blown up with texts from Nicky and Renee by the time it took to get here, but Andrew turned the phone off instead of looking at them. He had the address memorized.

After just five more minutes of driving, Andrew found the apartment complex. It was nothing special, somewhat shabby, but not run-down. It was absolutely mediocre. It would be too easy to overlook if Andrew weren’t already scoring the streets for it.

Andrew threw the Maserati into park and slammed the door shut on his way out. He stomped to the first building and followed the numbers until he got to the 300’s building. As he climbed the stairs to Apartment #328, he slid a knife out of his armband. When he reached the door, he hammered on the door as hard as he could, blade in hand.

The door swung open before Andrew could even drop his hand back to his side. Andrew’s stomach bottomed out and he nearly forgot to breathe when he took in the person before him. Standing in baggy gray sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, his auburn hair was bright against the gloom behind him and his blue eyes were nearly shining. Even with all the bruises and bandages on his face, Andrew would recognize him anywhere.

Neil Josten was alive. Too bad Andrew was going to murder him.