#there was the briefest of moments when i considered doing this in pixel and then i promptly snapped back to my senses

[demi-pixellated]

When we fell in love, Destiny

Revisiting Record of Lodoss War and being smitten all over again.

[raewrites98]

Runaway Train

For @foxeshaveclaws! You wanted long-distance relationships and surprises gone wrong- it's my first time writing for Andreil and this fandom, so I hope this still manages to live up to that, while staying withing the realm of their relationship :) Thank you for your wonderful prompt! Happy Valentine's Day <3 @aftgexchange                                                          *** “Come on, Josten,” Wymack yelled from where he stood behind the plexiglass, “Hurry up.”

Neil grit his teeth. He readjusted his grip on his racquet and swung, fast and hard. The ball sailed across the court, right into Robin’s waiting net as she caught it with practiced ease. He tore his helmet from his head and ran a hand through his sweaty, tangled hair. Fuck. That was the third shot he had missed. (Keep reading here or on AO3!)

“Nice shot, captain,” Jack taunted with a sneer, leaning against the wall. He shared a glance with Sheena, who scoffed in agreement.

It was late afternoon and the team had gathered to practice for their home game against the Breckenridge Jackals this Friday. They had been running drills for the last half hour or so and Neil was suffering. He couldn’t focus. The harsh fluorescent lights stung his eyes and his head pounded viciously. His thoughts kept drifting off into nothing, mind numb from exhaustion. At this rate, Coach was going to bench him.

Wymack blew his whistle, the sharp ring echoing across the court. “Go home,” he said, “You better not pull this shit tomorrow.” He spoke to the team, but Neil could feel the weight of his words as if they were directed at him specifically. He was captain, he should be better than this. He was better than this.

They dispersed slowly, the girls heading to one locker room and the guys the other. Before they parted, Robin brushed a hand against Neil’s shoulder. “Sweetie’s later?” She gave him a half smile. Her wild, curly hair stuck to her forehead, face red and sweaty.

Neil nodded. He went to his locker without a word, sat down and started peeling his shoes off one at a time. Bruises were starting to form where he had been body-checked into the wall several times during their scrimmage. It was a familiar feeling, one that usually offered comfort, but now only made him feel worse. 

A shadow fell upon him. Neil glanced up to see Jack leaning against the lockers, arms crossed. He was still in his bright orange gear, golden hair slicked back. “You better not fuck up this weekend,” he said. “I don't want people thinking the whole team sucks as much as our captain.” A few snickers passed through the room. 

Neil grit his teeth. He undid the Velcro strap of his gloves. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how Dan had ever managed this- the disobedience and disrespect from players who thought themselves superior. Even as vice-captain, he at least had been able to rely on Kevin’s demanding personality and fame to keep them in check.

But neither of them was here now. Even the cousins were gone, leaving Neil to start the fall semester on his own. He thought after years of running, he was used to being alone, but his time with the Foxes had changed that. He would never admit it out loud, but he missed them. Badly. 

“If you do blow it, though,” Jack continued, “maybe Coach will actually do something worthwhile and give your position to someone who deserves it.”

“Like who, you?” Neil eyed him up and down. Jack was only a sophomore and already thought he was better than everyone else, simply because Kevin recruited him. He started shoving his gear in his locker. “Your defense is weak, you can barely hold your own against the press and, frankly, your personality is shit.”

Jack scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from the guy getting fucked by that psycho Minyard,” he spat, as if the words left a foul taste in his mouth. “Bet the press would have a field day with that.” 

Neil clenched his jaw. Fuck this. His and Andrew’s relationship was never a secret, not with the way the Foxes gossiped, but it was private. He didn’t go around throwing it in everyone’s face, and he definitely didn’t need some arrogant little shit doing that for him. “Don’t,” he warned.

Jack laughed, raising his hands. “What are you gonna do? Make me run laps?” He rolled his eyes.

That was it. 

Neil’s fist collided with Jack’s nose. It gave a satisfying, sickening crack, blood spurting from his nostrils as he stumbled back with a cry, clutching his face. “What the fuck!” He lunged forward. Acting quickly, one of their teammates grabbed him and held him back. “You son of a bitch!” he snarled.

Neil slung his bag over his shoulder. “You want the extra laps too?” Jack glowered at him. “I didn’t think so.” Neil slammed the door shut as he left, the sound of it echoing throughout the gym.

                                                               ***

Neil’s phone rang as he was forcing himself through the last of his math homework. He picked it up without checking the caller ID. All these years and he still had the same ringtone. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” Andrew’s voice was muffled. There was some shifting and crackling through the speaker, until he sounded clearer. “Heard you finally snapped.” 

Neil rolled his eyes. “Who told you?” He chewed the cap of his pen and scribbled down something he thought resembled a logical answer. Tiny inked fox paws and exy racquets littered the margins of his paper. 

“Robin.” Of course. She, along with the rest of the team, had found out during morning practice, when Jack strutted in with a bruised face and swollen nose. To say Coach had been displeased was an understatement.

“He was asking for it.” Neil shoved his book aside and walked over to the bed. He let himself fall backwards onto the mattress, hitting it with a soft huff as the air left his lungs. He balled his hand into a fist, watching the ugly, shiny white scars stretch across his knuckles. A deep purple bruise colored the skin of his hand. He didn’t regret punching Jack. If anything, he wished he had done so sooner. 

“I��m surprised it took you this long,” Andrew remarked dryly.

Neil chuckled. Silence passed. He fidgeted with the strings of his sweater. “How was your day?”

“Long.” After graduation, Andrew had signed a three year contract with Boston’s pro team.  He lived there now, in a small apartment Neil had the only spare key to. It hung on his key chain, along with the ones for Columbia and the Maserati. 

Neil hummed. “You talked to Nicky?”

“More or less,” Andrew said. “He’s as disgustingly happy as ever.” A few months ago, Nicky finally moved to Germany. The wedding wasn’t until next year, but it was all he ever talked about.

“Good.” A pause. “You visiting soon?”

Andrew was silent for a while. “Not for a few weeks,” he said. “Think you can manage that long, Josten?”

He huffed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” Andrew drawled.

He rolled his eyes. He flipped and laid on his stomach, holding the phone in front of him. “I want to see you,” he mumbled into the sheets.

There was another pause, and for the briefest moment, Neil wondered if he had crossed a line. If he had made things weird. This was their first year apart and learning to navigate this whole long-distance thing was frustrating. They weren’t the most outwardly affectionate to begin with.

“Happy now?”

Neil looked up. A blurry, pixelated image of Andrew appeared on the cracked screen of his phone, glasses sliding down his nose and hair damp. 

He was wearing his PSU sweater, Neil noted. “It’ll do, I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“I could hang up on you, you know.”

“You won’t.” Neil’s smile grew.

He didn’t.

                                                              ***

“You sure you’re okay, Josten?” Robin asked as she chewed at the end of her straw, bending it left and right. Sweetie’s was surprisingly empty for a Monday night. A few people lingered at the bar and an elderly couple occupied the booth behind them, but other than that, it was empty. “And don’t give me that I’m fine crap.” 

Neil pushed his eggs around, watching how the yolk broke and spilled across his plate. “Just tired, I guess,” he mumbled. It wasn’t a lie. He always slept better with someone near him. It used to be his mom, but over time, Andrew had managed to worm his way into that spot instead. In his absence the mattress felt too cold, too empty. It took Neil hours to fall asleep.

“You talk to Andrew?”

“Yeah.” They had called for another half hour or so, before Neil left to finish his homework. It was fine at first, but their conversation had quickly grown stilted, punctuated by one word answers and long silences. He noticed that was happening frequently lately. Thinking about it made him sick to his stomach. He pushed his plate aside.

“Then what’s got you so fucked up?”

“Nothing.” 

Robin gave him a look.

He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s this whole captain thing, I guess,” he said, slumping back in his seat. The leather booth squeaked under his shifting weight. 

“Hey,” Robin said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “You carried us through the first season. You’re doing fine.” She offered him a reassuring smile.

The gesture was appreciated, but it didn’t make Neil feel that much better. “Yeah,” he muttered, tearing his toast to shreds.

Robin picked up her pencil and started tapping it on her sketchpad. The book was filled with scribbles and quick sketches of him and the team. She carried it wherever she went. “You know what? We should do something fun,” she said suddenly, sitting up. “After the game. Go out for a movie or whatever.”

Neil considered it. He wasn’t a fan of movies, or anything social really, but the idea of spending another night locked in his room alone sounded excruciating. “Sure,” he said with a shrug.

Robin looked surprised. “Okay,” she said. “Cool. Meet me here at eight?”

He nodded. Maybe it would help distract him, even if only for a few hours.

                                                          ***

They ended up losing the game.

Earlier that morning, right before their last practice, Neil sent Andrew a quick text. 

To: Minyard [6:45am] You watching tonight?

From: Minyard [7:25am] Can’t. Plans.

That shouldn’t have bothered him so much. When he was on court, adrenaline pumping through his veins, the weight of his racquet in hand, he couldn’t care less about who was watching. All that mattered was the ball in his net and the goal ahead. Everything else faded into the background.

But Andrew always watched his games. 

And then, when he tried to pry for answers as to what these plans were, Andrew’s replies went from short to nonexistent.

Neil managed to walk the team through warm-ups, but he couldn’t stop the flow of thoughts that forced their way into his mind, whispering of his incompetence as captain, his lack of friends and his possibly dying relationship with Andrew. When the first buzzer sounded and he nearly dropped his racquet, startled out of his spiraling thoughts, he knew it wasn’t going to end well.

It had been a close call in the end though. With thirty seconds left on the clock, Neil soared across court, twisting and turning around the Jackal’s defense until the goal was in sight. He stopped, swung his racquet back and took the shot.

The Breckenridge goalie dove for it and at the very last second, caught the ball with his net. The crowd gave a deafening roar, drowning out the buzzer as it signaled the end of the game. 

Neil’s heart dropped to his feet. He stared at the goal, a cold, dreadful numbness spreading through him. 

“Come on,” Robin muttered, slapping him hard across the back, “Keep it together.” 

The rest was a blur. As captain, he upheld his duty to entertain the press, but didn’t have it in him to bite back against their snarky, provocative comments. Wymack seemed pleased, if not a little concerned with his compliance. 

No one spoke in the locker rooms. Tension hung in the air, sharp and uncomfortable. Most of his teammates slipped out of the room without a word, but Jack stopped in front of Neil as he stood. He towered over him, six feet of anger and misplaced arrogance. “Should’ve fucking known,” he hissed. 

Neil bristled, fists clenched and ready for a fight. 

“Don’t bother, Jack,” one of his teammates said. “He isn’t worth it.”

The door closed and Neil was left alone surrounded by an oppressive, judgmental silence. Sweat trickled down his neck. His chest felt tight with each breath. 

There was only one thing left to do. He had to run.

                                                           ***

The sun was long gone by the time Neil made it back to the Fox Tower. His legs burned and arms ached, but he felt better. Running lessened some of the panic that had held him in a vice-like grip, but their loss still hung over him like a thick cloud. What if Coach was wrong? What if he wasn’t cut out for captain? 

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a single car parked under the lamppost. Neil crossed the street and kept his head down as he passed. A few steps from the tower’s entrance, he stopped.

He turned. “Andrew?”

Leaning back against the hood of the car, a cigarette in hand, stood Andrew. He was wearing a burgundy button down and black tie, sleeves rolled up to reveal his arm bands. Under the flickering yellow light, his hair glowed a deep gold, neatly swept off his forehead. Neil swallowed thickly.

“Running away again, Josten?” Andrew took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in his direction. His dark eyes flickered over Neil’s sweaty, disheveled appearance.

Neil walked over and came to a stop in front of him. It didn’t make any sense- Andrew wasn’t supposed to show up for another two weeks. What was he doing here? Had he been at the game? Neil hoped not. “Why are you here?”

“Take a guess.”

“I thought you had plans,” Neil bit, shoving his hands in his sweater.

 Andrew looked unimpressed. “Is that your guess?”

“I don’t know,” Neil snapped. “Are you here to watch me ruin my career as captain?” He kicked a stone, watching as it skipped across the parking lot. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “One game and you’re ready to jump ship?” He tsked, shaking his head. “I thought you were over the whole ‘flight risk’ thing.”

“I’m not running away,” Neil snapped. 

Andrew stared at him, waiting.

“I just-” He tore a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay?” Once he started, he found he couldn’t stop. The words came rushing out with a single breath, every thought and twisted emotion he had bottled up since the start of the school year. “I’m not Dan, or Kevin. I don’t know how to be a good captain, and I definitely don’t know how to do it on my own.”

“Then quit.” The cigarette glowed bright orange, another puff of smoke drifting in the air.

Neil scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing is.” Andrew reached for him, turning Neil’s chin so he was forced to look up. He stared at Neil, stoic and calm, the deep brown of his irises like liquid gold, holding Neil captive. It was in that unwavering apathy he found himself relaxing, shoulders slowly sagging as his worries slipped away. “You’ll manage.”

Neil drew a slow breath. The acrid, sharp scent of the cigarette smoke eased his nerves. He nodded. 

Satisfied, Andrew dropped his hand. He picked up Neil’s wrist instead, analyzing the bruised skin of his knuckles. He brushed his thumb along the row of scars.

Neil’s heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. 

“You missed dinner,” Andrew remarked.

A frown furrowed Neil’s brow. “What do you mean?”

“You had plans, didn’t you?”

Fuck. In his sudden and overwhelming distress, Neil had completely forgotten about Robin. She was going to be so pissed.

“Yeah, with Robin,” he said. “Did she tell you that too?” He wasn’t the kind to be jealous, but sometimes he wondered if she spoke to Andrew more than he did. 

Andrew looked unamused. “I can’t believe how incredibly stupid you are sometimes.” He gestured to himself.

“What?” Neil’s eyes flickered over his outfit. Then it clicked. “I wasn’t meeting Robin, was I?”

“Reservations were at eight,” Andrew remarked dryly.

Neil checked his phone. Quarter past ten. He winced. Had he really been gone that long? 

He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like Andrew to visit unprompted. Definitely not like this. Not as a ... surprise. 

Something else caught Neil’s eye as he looked at his phone. “It’s February 14th,” he said, a slow grin curling his lips.

“He knows how to read,” Andrew said with mock surprise.

“That’s Valentine’s day,” Neil persisted.

“Really?” Andrew flicked the cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out with his foot. 

“You know,” Neil said slowly, trailing a finger along the fabric of Andrew’s collar, “I wonder what the press would think if they knew Andrew Minyard was a hopeless romantic,” He stepped closer.

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “One hundred and three percent, Josten.”

He leaned in close, lips inches from Andrew’s. “Yes or no?”

Andrew flicked his head but pulled him forward by his collar. “Yes.”

His lips met Andrew’s in a soft, warm kiss that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. All of his worries faded into nothing and when Andrew’s cool, rough hands found their way into his hair, pulling him even closer, he knew that in the end, he was going to be okay.