also!! same anon. any kevneil hcs? 👀 what do u think there relationship would be like?
thanks for sending in another ask!!! i love answering!!!!
I have to really think about this because it's been a while since I've read the books. I needed to refresh my brain a bit!
Since they got together, everyone thinks that they'd push each other to unhealthy heights of Exy obsession. But, that's not the case. Slowly, they are able to coax more interests than Exy out of each other.
With Kevin, it's a lot easier. Neil already knows of Kevin's attempts at having other interests, despite having Exy shoved down his throat since he could talk. So, when the time comes, Neil encourages Kevin to spend time with the things that bring him joy. Such as watching the newest documentary about Ancient Egypt on the History Channel instead of a rerun of a UPenn Exy game, or attending his first Ren Faire dressed to the nines so nobody would recognize him.
Neil tries, too, of course. He picks up 'hobbies' at Kevin's subtle proding, but they always end up as competitions to see who can learn them quicker or better. Instead of being hobbies, they just end up as skills in his set. They learn how to knit together, and Neil is a thousand times better since his hand was never broken; his fingers are more nimble and move at a faster sustainable pace. Kevin sulks at this, obviously. So, when they learn chess, Kevin ensures he always has two wins over Neil.
Exy is still Neil's primary focus, his lifeblood. It's Kevin's, too, but Kevin allows himself a little more freedom. Neil doesn't find as much fun in Renaissance Faires or tours of Native American landscapes as Kevin does, but whatever makes Kevin happy makes Neil happy.
They argue very little at home. Whatever steam they have, they settle it on the Court, either in private sessions or in actual games. They do not hold back. When Neil makes a too-wide pass, Kevin shouts, "Josten! Fix your fucking aim or get off the court!" because he remembers that Neil sucks at putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Likewise, Neil bites back with, "Maybe I wouldn't have done that if you'd get off my ass every once in a while!" because Kevin is always insisting that Neil never does his chores correctly, and perhaps it pisses him off a little.
But, if anything happens to them on the Court, nothing else matters. It could be a good thing; perhaps Kevin made the game-saving goal, or Neil intercepted an important pass. They'll bump shoulders or, if it's appropriate timing, lift each other into the sweetest victory hug. It could be bad. It could be that Kevin's ankle rolls with a sickening crack. Neil drops his racket from whatever corner of the court he's in and rushes to Kevin like his heels are on fire. He pushes everyone away to pull Kevin into his arms, cradling his face as Kevin breaks down, memories of his broken hand crashing in on him. He whispers to Neil, the only person who could truly understand his situation and the only one willing to comfort him, that he's never going to play again. It's all over, he says, over and over again.
Neil tells him it's not true. It's a sprained ankle; it heals in six weeks. Kevin had a right to panic since their lives were reliant on their ability to play Exy, but Neil stayed right by his side the entire time. He shields Kevin from the press, having little patience for their prying questions. He spits out words that he knows Kevin would be horrified by (and so would the US Exy National PR Team). He sits down with Moriyama and explains the injuries and healing time. Moriyama leaves Kevin alone. Neil never lets Kevin get too far into his own head, and at the end of it all, Kevin thanks him in his own way.
Neil is on the receiving end of a lot of things; he finds brand-new running shoes waiting for him on the kitchen counter. There are his favorite protein bars ever from Germany stacked to the brim in the pantry. Kevin tells him, nonchalantly, that they have first-class tickets to watch the best professional Japanese team play in person in a month. It's hard for Kevin to say specific words, but Neil doesn't need them to understand.
But, sometimes, they do come out. At the end of their morning run on a rainy Tuesday, Kevin turns to Neil and says "I love you." Because perhaps that's when he needs to say it - when it's all clogged in his chest and nobody expects him to say it, least of all himself. And Neil will return the affection that night when the sun has set and the fear of nightmares has nestled into his skull. He fears that he has made a mistake letting Kevin so close to his heart, close enough that someone can hurt Neil by taking Kevin away. He turns to Kevin, grabs the nape of his neck, and says "I love you, too."
Because he knows that his fears are inane. That having someone to take care of his heart rather than letting it rot in its bone cage is the best decision he's ever made.
They sleep wrapped in the other's limbs and body. And when one starts shaking from a nightmare, they don't hesitate to pull each other closer. And that's all they need at the end of their long days. Having someone who will worldlessly, unquestioningly support them is enough.
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