Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Andrew.” The pool of blood beneath Andrew’s knuckles was expanding, inching towards the cracks in the tile. Neil was positive he was going to be sick for a multitude of reasons, least of all being the gash across Andrew’s hand.

It was his shaking, eerily violent jerking so distinctively un-Andrew-like, that was making his stomach turn. He was usually so still — his face, his body, his voice.

And yet there he was, practically vibrating. Like a ticking time bomb or a scared child. His face was sheet white, his red mouth slightly agape, hazel eyes staring half-lidded at his own blood dripping onto the ground. Crimson was smeared over his white t-shirt, and he must’ve taken off his armbands at some point because the pale gleam of his forearms was in stark contrast to the blood he was covered in. Neil’s entire body was tense. It was so unexpected, so visceral, like seeing a casualty on the road while driving past a car accident. Like Neil wasn’t meant to see it.

Part of him — the part Neil resented the most — urged him to turn his heels and run the other way. Is the rabbit spooked? Andrew’s sardonic voice chimed in his head. Instead, Neil dropped to his knees onto the hard bathroom floor next to the crouching goalkeeper. The LED lights above them were unforgiving as they cast a harsh shadow onto the two squatted athletes.

He inched closer, sliding his knees across the smooth tile. His hand shook as he slowly reached out towards the trembling figure, but refrained from touching him. The way Andrew was primed, Neil was afraid there was a possibility of him darting out of the room and going somewhere where Neil couldn’t find him. He’d probably end up dead if he tried to block the door, but he’d be damned if he was going to let that happen.

“Andrew,” he said again, soft and so audibly shaken it made him cringe. He wanted to move the blonde strands of hair out of Andrew’s eyes to see them more clearly, to be able to gauge the situation better.

“Yes or no?” Sweat had soaked through the collar of Andrew’s shirt. The lights buzzed. There was no response.

Neil stared at him intently. He could play the long game — no matter how terrified he was. He’d sit there the entire night until Andrew told him to do something .

Andrew tucked his chin towards his chest, further obscuring Neil’s already minimal view. He tried to find something substantive to say, but ironically, words had always been Andrew’s forte. Neil wanted to punch something.

The plan had been doomed since the beginning. Nicky’s insistence that Neil, Andrew, Aaron and Kevin accompany the rest of the foxes to an off-campus bar had been rooted in stupidity. The seedy, shadowy atmosphere of Eden’s was much more their speed. But in Nicky’s desperate attempt to continue to acclimate the Monsters to the rest of the team, he’d convinced most of them. Aaron had a prescheduled dinner with Katelyn’s parents he’d moaned about until Nicky relented. However, Kevin needed no excuse to drink, and though Andrew hadn’t said so, Neil expected that the new environment reawakened the goalkeeper’s protective instincts towards Kevin, resulting the remaining two tagging along.

Nicky had insisted that athletes drank for free and that it would be a ‘casual’ night, but upon arriving at the bar Neil knew this wouldn’t be the case. The establishment was more aligned with a club, flashing, colored lights, pulsing EDM music, and a sweaty, damp atmosphere. One look at the interior and Andrew was heading off to get a drink, Kevin at his heels. Neil had fallen into the familiar drunken embrace of Allison as Dan and Matt went off to dance and Renee chatted with someone she knew from class. Nicky was long gone, apparently forgetting his enthusiasm for group bonding.

“What to you think? I’ve been coming here since freshman year!” Allison had shouted over the music. Her bubblegum pink lipstick had smeared around her mouth a bit and her bangs were stuck to her forehead. Her arms were wound around Neil’s neck, bracelets jangling behind his head. She towered over him in her heels. Neil shrugged.

“These places all look the same to me,” he replied, Allison tilting her head in to hear him. She shook a sharp, manicured finger in disagreement.

“No, it’s the people that are different. All the ones at that shady club you guys love so much are weirdos. At Pat’s, it’s young, drunk, stupid, and hot people. Horny college kids, what could be better?” Neil raised an eyebrow at her.

“I guess I didn’t notice the difference,” he admitted. Allison giggled.

“Right, I forgot. Lover boy’s got you under his scary lock and key.” Neil smiled at her assumption, but knew this wasn’t the case. These types of environments were always a strange dissonance of overwhelming and familiar for him, especially when new. His hyper vigilance automatically kicked in, his nervous system returning to its natural state. To Neil, looking over his shoulder was as instinctual as breathing. He could feel the world pulsing around him, every change in light or small incident. A girl spilling her drink on the dance floor. A couple fighting in a dark corner. He knew how to blend in to a crowd, he knew how to be nobody and see everything. But the people themselves were faceless, insignificant variables. Potential threats at best. It was almost a comforting feeling — familiar, at least. Or it had been before he’d became Neil Josten, a D1 Exy player with auburn hair and ice blue eyes and scars covering a third of his face. When he caught glimpses of himself in mirrors behind the bar or in snapped photos, he was forcibly reminded that he wasn’t hiding anymore — couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Not to mention, Neil still didn’t swing like that. Except for the exception.

“C’mon, you look like you need a drink,” Allison cried, apparently sensing his anxiety. Neil shrugged again. He figured he could order a virgin drink without Allison noticing if he bought her a shot. He remembered what Andrew had said last season, about being allowed to let go and indulge now that he wasn’t on the run. Still, Neil couldn’t see himself letting his guard down in a place he felt so vulnerable. He still remembered his first time at Eden’s, the primal terror that had consumed him upon losing his all of his defenses. Neil didn’t have as many secrets to lose anymore, at least not with Andrew, but he still had valid reasons to exercise self control.

Allison dragged him through the sea of sweating, swaying people towards the bar. He tried not to pay attention to people’s eyes catching on him; dark clothes and armbands, scars and key necklace. He made out a hunched over Kevin across the bar, stringy brown hair hanging in his face. He was nursing a beer, Andrew behind him with an unimpressed look pulled across his face. Kevin was tanked, then. Allison spotted them soon after and bodied Neil towards the bar. She threw an arm around Kevin’s shoulders, shaking him good-naturedly.

“Trashed already, Day? This has to be a record. Good thing I put twenty bucks on you passing out first. Dan’s a lightweight, but she knows how to pace herself.” Kevin groaned.

“Fuck off,” he slurred, batting her away. Allison laughed heartily and waved at the bartender. Neil caught Andrews’s eye. He was dressed in a dark jacket with a white undershirt that was tight to his body. He wore a ring on his middle finger, visible by the way is pale fingers gripped his whiskey glass. Neil wanted to feel it against his face, metal cooling down his scars. Neil wanted to push back Andrew’s honey bangs and stare at his eyes until he forgot the rest of the world, or Andrew told him to stop.

If he hadn’t been so busy gawking, Neil might’ve noticed the man bumping into Allison, attempting to get her attention. He probably would’ve sensed the anger and entitlement oozing beneath a thin layer of charisma, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d moved towards Andrew like he was tugged by an invisible string, smiling softly. Kevin and Allison were still arguing in the background, but the annoyance in Andrew’s eyes switched to something else. Something debatably softer.

“Are you having fun?” Neil asked coyly, getting close so he could be heard over the music. Andrew’s breath smelled like whiskey.  His expression didn’t change, but he crooked an eyebrow at Neil.  “Me neither. We should leave soon. Lucky for us, Kevin’s the perfect excuse,” Neil said after a moment.

“He’s perfect until he’s vomiting in our room all night long. I won’t save him if he chokes on it,” Andrew said, catching Neil’s wrist in his hand tugging him closer, until they were nearly chest to chest. Neil chuckled, fingers ghosting over Andrew’s bicep.

“He’ll be dead to the world. Won’t even know we’re there.” Andrew’s fingers grazed Neil’s hip.

“Is that a proposition,” he asked, and Neil swallowed.

“Call it a prediction. A hopeful one, maybe,” Neil said smugly, smirking at the barely visible reddening of Andrew’s ears.

“Andrew!” A high voice cut over the noise and through their haze. Andrew’s hand remained tight on Neil’s hip, thumb rubbing circles into the bone there, but he glanced towards Allison with an uninterested expression. The man next to her — stocky, light hair, wearing an ugly button-up patterned shirt and exuding excessive arrogance — was leaned over speaking to the bartender. Allison looked annoyed and just slightly uncomfortable, but she smiled at the pair of short athletes. Kevin was on his phone, ignoring everything else around him.

“You’ll take a shot with me, right, Minyard? This gentleman’s offering; Day’s too tanked and your boyfriend has a stick up his ass — oh, pun not intended!” She laughed at her own joke, holding a hand over her eyes. Neil couldn’t help but smirk at her antics. Allison had grown on him since they’d reconciled their differences over Seth, even if she could be crass and obnoxious at times. He didn’t mind her playing dress up with him as a mannequin anymore, or when she’d affectionately kiss his cheek and leave a lipstick stain on it. He couldn’t say the same for Andrew — after all, it had only been a few months ago that he’d nearly broken her neck in Aaron’s defense. And yet, he watched as Andrew slinked over to Allison, taking up post between her and Kevin. Neil briefly mourned the warmth that Andrew left in his absence. The world came back full force, pounding in his ears and overloading his senses.

Neil watched as the man buying the shot sized Andrew up, looking smugly amused by the height difference between him and Allison. Neil rolled his eyes, watching carefully as the young bartender set three green tinged shots in front of them.

“Neil!” Nicky’s high voice had a wavering edge to it as he stumbled through the crowd of people, brown hair mused and a phone clutched in his hand. Andrew glanced back towards his cousin, clearly picking up on the same tone Neil did. Dan and Matt were following closely behind, both of them sweaty and unsteady on their feet. They came in a stumbling storm towards the other foxes as they squeezed through bodies. When he reached the bar, Nicky wrapped an arm around Neil, slumping his entire body weight into the smaller striker.

“Nicky? What’s going on?” Neil asked, trying to push Nicky off of him to see his face. Panic was lacing his nerves. He glanced frantically towards the other two.

“Erik hates me!” Nicky wailed, turning his face into Neil’s shoulder. Dan waved in dismissal, appearing bored. Matt smiled apologetically, and Neil sagged in relief.

“Erik called him and they had a tiny fight because Nicky’s loaded. Everything’s fine, Neil,” Matt said, but he glanced towards Andrew when he said it. Allison was watching them, too, rolling her eyes.

“God, Nicky, do you always have to be such a drama queen?” She turned back around towards the bar and Andrew followed suit. Neil heard the man next to her mutter about ‘odd friends.’ Neil finally forced Nicky off of him, pushing him towards a highly capable Dan and Matt.

“Get a grip, Nicky. You and Erik are fine, alright?”

“Yeah, you’re bringing down the vibe,” Matt muttered irritably to a still sobbing Nicky.

Dan consoled Nicky in vain as he leaned heavily on her shoulder, and Matt smiled wryly at Neil.

“How’d you become the person everyone comes to with their problems?” Matt asked, seeming to recall Neil’s unsteady beginning with the foxes.

“I don’t know, it’s awful,” Neil admitted. “Don’t they know Dobson is perfectly qualified?” Matt laughed and turned them both back towards Dan and Nicky.

They stood around talking idly as a group while the club pulsed around them. Allison, Kevin, and Andrew eventually reintegrated to their small circle, the man from earlier no where to be found. With Andrew close to his side, Matt’s heavy hand on his shoulder, and Dan’s warm smile, Neil found it difficult to be so guarded and nervous. When Dan pointed a camera at him, Neil smiled next to a passive Andrew and groaning Kevin, cheekily beckoning up to the neon red Pat’s sign glowing above their heads. When the blinding, white flash struck him, he felt exposed but safe — still out of place — but sheltered by his equally odd teammates. Andrew’s fingers crawled from his waist to the small of his back. He shivered. Steady, Neil reminded himself. Stable.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed — impaired by the contagious, sluggish atmosphere of the bar. Suddenly, in the middle of Dan’s story, Kevin was keeling over, pressing two long fingers to his mouth in alarm.

“Jesus, Kevin, you’re not gonna puke here!” Nicky yelped, apparently having forgotten his earlier meltdown in favor of disgust. Kevin pushed through the crowd, stumbling towards the back where the bathroom were evidently located. Neil scoffed, looking over at Andrew, who had his arms crossed over his chest.

“Go make sure he doesn’t choke, and then we’ll get out of here,” Neil said. Andrew cocked his head, almost like he wanted to argue about his level of concern for Kevin again, but ultimately followed him towards the bathroom. Neil watched Andrew go, intent on observing the sway of his hips, every calculated movement through the tight space so that he wouldn’t touch anybody.

Matt appeared back beside him, swiping a hand through his tight, spiked curls. He was watching Dan and Allison hysterically giggling against one another with an unmistakable affection. Then he looked over at Neil.

“You look like a lovesick puppy, it’s really gross,” Matt teased, ruffling Neil’s hair. He received a huff in response.

“You’re one to talk,” Neil pointed out as Matt and Dan made googly eyes back and forth. He let Matt rope him back in to drunken conversation with the girls and Nicky, keeping an eye out for a certain former raven and goalie. As pleasant as being with the rest of the foxes was, he really just wanted to go back to the quiet dorm and figure out where Andrew wanted him to touch tonight.

Dan tried her hardest to convince Neil to take a shot with her, and she kept on him so long that he was almost ready to relent when Kevin reappeared on the dance floor, a few steps away from the rest of the group. He was swaying to the music, hardly aware of where he was. Neil would’ve laughed, save for the fact that Andrew was not with him. He politely stepped out from underneath Matt and started towards a fast-fading Kevin.

“Hey,” Neil yelled, slotting himself between hot bodies of strangers to grab Kevin’s arm. Glazed over green eyes met his, no sense of recognition visible.

“Kevin!” Neil lightly slapped at Kevin’s slack jaw. He was annoyed, now. His tolerance of Kevin’s worst habits was steadily waning as the night went on.

“Where’s Andrew? We want to go home,” Neil said, crowding close to Kevin so that he’d hear. “Been out of the nest so long that you’ve forgotten your buddy system?” It was a bit cruel to jab at Evermore like that, but Kevin’s obliviousness to Andrew’s protection of him had a tendency to rub Neil the wrong way. Kevin shrugged limply.

“Dunno. He was using the bathroom, I think. Seemed drunk. Why’d you let him drink so much?” Kevin asked, grinning mindlessly at Neil. Neil, in turn, frowned deeply.

“What? He wasn’t drunk. Kevin, he’s never —“ Neil cut himself off, scowling as panic suddenly took over once again, but this bout was red hot and all-consuming. A familiar instinct. He shoved Kevin towards the rest of the team halfheartedly before he took off towards the bathroom, darting in between people. They grumbled and swore at his shoving but his mind was elsewhere, nowhere.

The men’s bathroom was grimy and dank like he’d expected it would be; years of college kids had scribbled over the red, peeling wallpaper, and the floor was littered with straws and discarded bottles. There were a few scattered men pissing in urinals, the sound of a faucet running and music pulsing faintly outside. Neil scanned the room with deadly precision. Two stalls were open but the last was closed. Neil dropped to a crouch to check underneath, his heart pounding in his chest. He saw one pair of sneakers, chunky and white, with jeans pooled on top. It was nothing Andrew would ever be caught dead in, but he pounded on the door anyway.

“What the fuck, man,” a drunken voice from inside whined. High and petulant. “Just use another stall.” Neil stepped away, satisfied that it wasn’t Andrew, but still panicking in full. A few of the patrons glanced at Neil as he threw the bathroom door back open violently.

Neil stopped just outside, scanning around the club desperately. It was crowded, but Neil knew Andrew’s small stature and white blonde hair would stick out to him after a moment. Or, Andrew would spot Neil’s glaring appearance and come to him after seeing the obvious anxiety etched across his face. Neil clenched a fist, digging his nails into his scarred palm. Next to the two sets of bathrooms was a small, staff-only supply closet. Tucked away and hidden from plain sight in the same hallway as the toilets. Fuck it, Neil thought. He’d tear this entire place apart if he had to. He’d check every nook and cranny. He’d threaten every piss-drunk college kid he needed to. Bolt by bolt.

When he threw the door open, his breath caught in his chest with a horrible rattling sensation. Shock seized him in a dizzy and paralyzing grip. The man from the bar who’d been crowding Allison was hunched over in the closet. Neil knew him instantly by his shirt. He had somebody pushed up against metal shelving stocked with cleaning supplies. A dim light overhead buzzed, failing to cover up the soft grunting coming from the man’s mouth. He had someone’s — Andrew’s, Neil knew, but couldn’t yet accept — throat in his meaty grasp, and he was pushing back against a weak but obvious struggle. Small twitches and jerks. The way the stranger’s hips moved brought Neil’s attention to how his jeans were low on his waist, checkered boxers on display.

At that point, Neil’s nerves were alight with something darker than fear, more powerful. He was wrapping his calloused hands around the man’s neck and wrenching him backward before he could think twice about it. Using this momentum, Neil threw the stranger through the small doorway and onto the floor just outside, a surprised noise being forced from the man’s lungs. His body hit the ground with a dull thud. He’d thrown his arms over his face, clearly caught off guard. Neil was immediately straddling him, wrenching a fist back to smash it into the man’s small, piggish nose. Primal adrenaline and hatred burned in his veins. He was dimly aware of how the other person in the musty closet slumped to the ground, how he had relative privacy in the narrow hallway to do whatever atrocities he liked to this man. Neil was mostly focused on the satisfying way bone and cartilage crunched beneath his fist, how the man was moaning in agony and trying to buck Neil off. But it wasn’t enough. Neil hit over and over until the nose flattened against cheek. Still not enough.

Neil brought his hands to the man’s neck once more and began to squeeze viciously, hoping to feel the fragile windpipe snap. This faceless, nameless run-of-the-mill creep hadn’t anticipated crossing the Butcher’s son, and Neil would make him sorry for it. He would make him wish for a quick death as Neil searched for the most painful bits to break. He didn’t care that this man’s bushy yellow eyebrows probably came from a father, or if his thin little mouth called his mother once a week. Neil saw Drake, Grayson, Riko. Morphing and shifting like a grotesque creature that Neil was all too familiar with. Neil wanted to see this man suffer, wanted to taunt him as it happened.

Just as purple began to replace pale, blemished skin, Neil felt a tug on his forearm. Someone was saying his name over and over, and suddenly more hands were pulling on him. But Neil was latched on to his prey. He would not give up this kill. He felt his father’s sneer beginning to creep across his cheeks, digging in to his dimples.

“Neil,” Matt said, slowly and quietly as possible. He was grabbing Neil’s jaw with one hand, forcing their gazes to meet. Dark, clear eyes burrowed into Neil’s. They were full of compassion and pleading.  “You can’t kill him here. You can’t go to jail tonight, man, or you can’t help him.” Matt jerked his towards the scene behind them. Neil eased his grip on the man’s throat slightly, craning his head to look backwards with a stone of dread heavy in his stomach.

Renee had appeared out of nowhere, crouched on the ground beside a splayed out Andrew. His jacket had fallen off at some point, and there was a wound on his right hand that was bleeding. Renee was inspecting it without touching him, leaning over him protectively. Neil noticed a jagged edge of shelving that was stained reddish at the end. Most of the cleaning supplies had been dislodged in the scuffle, scattered across the dirty bar floor. A mop had fallen over. These were observations, fact.

He found it harder to reconcile with the look on Andrew’s face. His skin was almost as pale as his hair and he was slack jawed. He looked panicked, and although it was subdued, Neil knew that he was not the only one who’d be able to tell. His disarmingly delicate features were twisted into a grimace, and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat. He looked sick. He looked shaken.

Neil released the man immediately and rolled off of him, hearing him gasp and wheeze. Nathaniel’s fury — Neil’s legacy evaporated, leaving behind terror. A falling sensation. In his peripheral he caught Matt grabbing the man’s shirt tightly and tugging him up, growling something into his face. Neil was already stumbling towards Andrew though, hands trembling awfully, stained with blood. Renee glanced up and offered him a tight, unreassuring smile. Neil dropped at Andrew’s feet, a hand hovering just above his ankle. He noticed Andrew’s fly was unzipped. Neil was going to be sick. Neil was going to die.

“Andrew,” he whispered. Begging, pleading. “Andrew.” Andrew’s wide, glassy hazel eyes found his, pretty and excruciatingly painful. He looked uncharacteristically confused as he moved his mouth, as though trying to recall how to speak.

“My drink had something in it. Meant for Allison, he said. He said…” Andrew trailed off, staring at the guy Matt was jerking around with the full force his athletic strength. His voice was eerily even, like it usually was, but there was a shaking edge to it that made Neil want to murder all over again. Andrew looked back at Neil, licking his trembling lips as he tried to continue.

“Got dizzy in the bathroom, puked but not enough time. I tried to get to you, but he came into the bathroom. I couldn’t…” Andrew seemed to go somewhere else, staring through Neil as his face went completely blank. The words rattled around in Neil’s head: I tried to get to you. I tried to get to you but I couldn’t because this asshole roofied me and groped me in a closet, Neil’s mind supplied. How had Neil allowed something like this to happen? Had he gotten too comfortable, too trusting, too careless? Had his skin been softened by this comfortable life to the point of being rendered defenseless? He shuddered to think. His mother would’ve beat him senseless for such a lapse in judgement, and his father would’ve killed him.

“Andrew,” Neil said again, convinced it was the only word he knew. Timing impeccable as always, the rest of the foxes rounded the corner, gasping at the scene unfolding. Neil heard Renee giving calm orders to the others, registered Kevin vomiting all over the dingy carpet, noted Allison crying in realization as Matt told her what had happened, Dan hushing everyone quietly. He mostly focused on Andrew’s breathing, which was too quick and raspy sounding. Andrew’s meticulously constructed walls were falling, and Neil didn’t want anyone else witnessing such a vulnerable display. Not even himself.

“Andrew,” Renee cooed, a familiar and grounding sound. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” After a moment, it seemed to click in Andrew’s head, and he shook it tightly. He gritted his teeth while trying to focus, trying to stay tethered. Neil wanted to smooth out the wrinkle between his furrowed brows with a bloody thumb.

“No, no hospitals.” Andrew’s voice was edging on dangerous but he was too affected by the drugs to truly be threatening. Renee looked slightly concerned but didn’t argue. She nodded, mostly to herself.

“Would it be alright if Neil and I helped you get to the car? You two can go back to the tower, Matt and I will get the rest home.” Nicky was talking to Andrew, asking if he was alright, but the three of them were tuning it out. All that mattered was the tiny closet and getting as far from it as they could.

“Yes,” Andrew said, albeit hesitantly. He lifted his arms off the ground, but frowned when they hardly raised. Neil felt his heart pang in sympathy, and watched as Renee gently lifted one of Andrew’s banded arms and hooked it around her neck. She looked at Neil like she wanted him to do the same, and he followed the order hesitantly. Neil crawled closer, trying to steady his movements. He cradled Andrew’s arm to his chest before pulling it behind his head, resisting the urge to press his forehead into Andrew’s sweaty temple. Not here, not now. Andrew was shaking, and he felt light and small when Neil pulled them to their feet. Like a gust of wind could tip him over.

Andrew’s head hung limply between Neil and Renee. The rest of the foxes stared on with shell shocked expressions, Matt still holding the man’s cheap shirt in his fist.

“What… what do we do with him?” Allison sniffled, loathing etched across her face as she looked down at her would’ve been attacker. Neil noticed splatters of Kevin’s vomit on her white heels. As if the situation could feel any dirtier, Neil thought disgustedly.

Matt looked up at Neil, face grim and drawn. Nicky’s hands were hovering a foot away from his cousin like he wanted to reach out. Neil was glad he didn’t. He felt Andrew jerk slightly beside him, heard his breath catch.

“I don’t care,” Neil said, adjusting himself to support Andrew more securely. “He’s dead anyway, I’ll make sure of it.”

Nicky gasped again and Allison paled. Kevin was just staring down at the dead man, mouth gaping like a fish. He was thumbing his tattoo.

“Matt, get an ID off him if you can. If not, just take a picture, I’ll figure out the rest,” Neil muttered. The guy was whimpering and moaning, choking on the blood squirting from his nose. Matt looked ill but nodded.

“Neil is taking Andrew back to the dorms. The rest of us will go separately,” Renee said kindly. Allison, unsurprisingly, decided to pipe in again. She was clutching Dan’s arm in a vice-like grip.

“What? Neil, he was roofied, you’re supposed to go to a hospital when that happens. Or the police!” Neil glared at her, knowing full well he’d die before violating one of Andrew’s wishes again tonight. An adrenaline fueled rant was beginning to build up on his tongue. Thankfully, Renee placated Allison for him.

“Neil will make sure nothing happens to him. The hospital will only give him fluids and an uncomfortable bed to spend the night in. Andrew will be fine in the dorms — he’s in good hands,” Renee said softly. She glanced down at Andrew’s blonde crown, smiling softly. Andrew did not lift his head or respond, and Neil was suddenly very tired of talking.

“I’m not arguing anymore. We’re leaving. Kevin, find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” he snapped. Kevin didn’t flinch or even look at Neil, his gaze still pinned to the body on the floor.

With that, he and Renee were tugging a stumbling Andrew out of the hallway, leaving the murmuring foxes in their wake.

Upon reaching the crowded exit, a bouncer began to stare at the apparently inebriated Andrew being pulled along. When they reached the door, he was sneering at them.

“Somebody have too much to drink?” The question was scathing and judgmental. Neil remembered Andrew’s fly was unzipped. If he weren’t so desperate to leave, he was certain he’d be pulling the knives from Andrew’s arms and claiming another victim tonight. “You better not let him puke on my steps.”

Neil was choking on his anger, but as cold, night air finally swept over Neil’s clammy face, he breathed deeply for the first time all evening. The heavy brass door to Pat’s swung closed behind them. After Renee had walked them to the car, Neil and Andrew had driven back to campus in silence, Andrew’s head lolled against the window, eyes closed and a uncomfortable frown across his face. Neil had white-knuckled the steering wheel the whole way, knowing that words were inefficient. Upon arriving back at the dorm, Andrew stumbled towards the bathroom and locked the door, only to purposefully unlock it twenty minutes later. In the meantime, Neil had cleaned the blood off his hands as best he could and tried to quell his trembling as he listened to Andrew retching. When the lock had finally clicked, Neil had jumped up and thrown open the door at a striker’s pace, only to be met with the gut wrenching sight.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered, and this time it was pleading and pathetic and all the things Andrew hated — but the goalkeeper lifted his head. Neil was horrified to see tear tracks, obvious and glistening down Andrew’s pale cheeks. Neil wasn’t sure if it was from vomiting or long-buried emotion. His expression made Neil’s stomach drop even further: it wasn’t particularly expressive — not to the inexperienced eye — but it could only be described as agony. Buried deep beneath layers and layers, arm bands and knives, but it was there. The violent fear that came after a complete loss of control. Neil knew it well.

Neil shuddered, tilting his head towards Andrew. Just to feel his breath against his face, to quell some of that awful feeling. Paralyzed and useless, Neil scratched his fingernails across his own thighs and tried to resist the urge to rip someone’s throat out.

“I almost said it. That word.” Andrew’s voice was as flat and unaffected as usual, but the way his trembling picked up after saying it was telling. Neil couldn’t help but be reminded of Andrew’s manic chuckling after Drake, the hysteria buzzing in the humid room. Andrew in a place so dark and twisted that even Neil couldn’t comprehend it. He quickly chastised himself: this isn’t like that. Andrew’s eyes flicked towards Neil’s face — tawny eyelashes still wet. They were wide and searching. Neil got a jarringly vivid idea of what Andrew must’ve looked like as a child, before time had jaded and weathered his emotions to a sharp point, and once again he had to hold his dinner in.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked again, rougher this time. He was holding back. He either needed to touch Andrew, in some way, or get as far away from him as necessary. Neil was prepared for both.

Andrew stared at him, mouth still slightly ajar as his breathes came quick and his body continued to shake. Maybe it was poor judgment, since Andrew was technically inebriated and thus couldn’t truly consent. But Neil couldn’t bring himself take the choice away.

“Yes.” Neil had a hand on Andrew’s neck in seconds, warm and clammy and so utterly relieving. The ache the night had left in Neil’s chest eased just a bit with every inch of distance he closed between them.

“What do you need?” He asked, fingertips finding the end of Andrew’s short cropped hair. Neil allowed his other hand to follow slowly, curving it along Andrew’s sharp, clenched jaw. Andrew shook his head in a tiny motion and closed his eyes. He almost looked at peace, save for the persistent quakes throughout his body. Neil wondered what he was fighting with in there — or who.

After a few seconds, Neil nodded, mostly to himself. Andrew didn’t have to talk. Neil could do this. He repeated it like a mantra in his head, trying to calm the anxiety that seemed to only worsen as the time went on. What experience did he have in comforting another person in a time like this? It was always Andrew saving him — not the other way around. Shocking him out of a nervous breakdown with a searing kiss. Telling Neil to stay against impossible odds. Finding Abram when Nathaniel reared his ugly head. Andrew knew how Neil worked like he’d studied an instructional manual — could pump the breaks on even his fastest moving train wrecks. Could he be that for another person, especially one as intricate as Andrew? Neil was not made for delicate craftsmanship. He was made to run, kept on track by the stable, strong metal of Andrew’s resolve.

But Andrew was not stable, and Neil was not running.

“I’m going to fix up your hand, okay?” Andrew nodded his approval and Neil felt a surge of affection. Without thinking much about it, he used both hands to gently squeeze the sides of Andrew’s neck, attempting to be brief and reassuring. Andrew gave no indication that he felt Neil’s touch, continuing to stare vacantly at the grimy bathroom floor. Neil stood, trying not to appear manic. He’d fix it. He’d fix it. He’d fix it.

Springing to action, Neil flung open the medicine cabinet stocked with first aid, and for the first time ever he was glad the monsters were always getting themselves into trouble, always coming home with bruises and cuts from various degrees of reckless behavior. Then again, he thought, they wouldn’t be here in the first place had it not been for that same reason.

He hid his scowl as he dropped back to his knees and slowly reached for Andrew’s twitching hand. When their fingers brushed and he saw no visible reaction, he delicately took the pale, knobby hand into his and began cleaning the wound with antiseptic wipes. Andrew’s shaking had lessened slightly, and his breathing was more even, much to Neil’s relief. Blonde hair still stuck to his sweat soaked forehead, and he had turned his face upwards, eyes remaining closed. He could have been praying. Andrew’s mouth was tight in the corner, like it was whenever he was uncomfortable or annoyed. Neil’s stomach swooped for a second, followed quickly by a wave of guilt. He shouldn’t find Andrew attractive right now. He knew that. It was just that he looked so… open. So raw. It was like staring into the sun. Neil wanted to kiss his eyelids and the pricing on his brow and his chin and then the tension from his mouth.

After a pile of bloody tissues, Neil could see that the gash needed stitches, and started to get up to grab their (unfortunate and unnecessary, according to Allison) suture material.

“Neil,” Andrew croaked, eyes cracking open. Neil froze, then knelt close to him. Andrew reached out, an uninjured, jittery hand sliding into Neil’s hair and around to cup the back of his head. Neil jerked at the touch, not violently, not in fear. He hadn’t expected Andrew to touch him.  The weight of his warm, rough hand against Neil’s head was grounding. Andrew leaned forward and pulled, not particularly gently, so that their foreheads were bumping together. His eyes closed again, and he breathed fast and deep, like he was trying to use solely Neil’s exhales as oxygen. Underneath the lids, Neil could see Andrew’s eyeballs moving rapidly back and forth. His sharp mouth was pulled into a grimace. He dug his fingers into Neil’s scalp as though mapping his skull. Neil just stared down the line of his brow, over the slope of his narrow nose to his Cupid’s bow, all of it speckled by pale freckles. It wasn’t very often that they were this close and Neil had his eyes open — they were usually focused on each other’s mouths. He took the opportunity to admire all the fine details, all the little lines and divots. Andrew had an acne scar denting his cheekbone. Andrew had sharp canines. Andrew had Neil’s heart in his mouth.

Neil held a hand against the swell of Andrew’s cheek, thumbing the corner of his damp eye. He wanted to keep pressing closer and closer until he could see inside Andrew’s head, figure out exactly what it was he was supposed to do. Help me help you, he thought.

But Andrew released him and pulled back, returning his gaze to the floor. Neil took the cue and continued his quest for the sewing kit, knowing his breath had quickened and his ears had turned red.

When he turned around, needle and thread in hand, he was once again made to feel uneasy by Andrew’s tiny form against the floor. Neil felt guilty for being so caught off guard when Andrew had seen him  in moments just as, if not more vulnerable than this one. He was surprised Andrew wasn’t throttling him for it — Neil’s anxiety always set him off, especially when it was on Andrew’s behalf. But when he returned to his side, Andrew still had yet to move, or utter anything other than that awful admission and Neil’s name.

I almost said that word.

Though they’d made a point of never comparing one another’s grotesque childhoods, Neil often had the suspicion that he wouldn’t have survived Andrew’s. To have certain words burned out of your vocabulary because of how violently they’d failed you — it was nearly unfathomable. It made Neil’s heart go numb, sometimes.

Neil pushed his own hair out of his eyes, trying to pull himself together. All he could be was whatever Andrew needed. And right now, that was the skin of his hand being stitched back together.

When he grabbed the bloodied fist again, a barely perceptible shudder passed through Andrew’s arm. Neil blinked up at him, frozen.

“Yes or no?” He asked again. Andrew swallowed, let his head drop a bit and opened his eyes. That bright hazel was burning right through Neil’s face. It was as if Andrew were clinging to him though sight alone.

“Yes.”

Neil nodded and began to work, gingerly being the grueling process of working the needle and nylon through the delicate skin. They had done this enough times — he knew the drill. Quick and efficient, no hesitation. Hesitation made it worse, and Neil was desperate not to make this worse. He glanced up at Andrew as he was working, who was still staring intently at Neil’s face. Not through him, as he had been earlier. Right at him. Neil was suddenly slightly self conscious, softening his expression a bit. Since Andrew hadn’t noticeably flinched or changed his breathing, Neil continued the task until his already scarred hand was pulled back together — rather neatly, to Neil’s pleasure. He wiped it clean once more to be safe, then carefully grabbed the rolls of medical tape and gauze, gently rotating Andrew’s arm side to side as he wrapped it. When he looked up again, Andrew’s focus was apparently fixed on the motion, and his breathing was nearly normal now.

When he was finished, Neil couldn’t help it; he raised Andrew’s hand towards his own mouth, watching his face for a change in expression. Carefully, with a delicateness he was delighted to find he possessed, Neil cradled the hand with both of his own and pressed a reverent kiss to the bony knuckles, closing his eyes. It was probably a risky move, but candy-sweet affection was making him sick and delirious. Andrew was going to be okay — Neil could feel the heat of his skin even beneath the bandages. Neil was relieved, despite everything. Relieved the wound had stopped bleeding, that this was the worst of Andrew’s injuries, that both of them had yet to run.

“One hundred ninety eight percent,” a hoarse and trembling voice said from above Neil’s head. Andrew’s hand retracted from his grasp, a more gentle tug than usual. Neil looked up at him, eyes wide and waiting. Andrew licked his lips, than his gaze shifted slightly — perhaps a memory passing through his devastatingly perfect memory. Once again he was looking through Neil.

“Need a minute. And a sweatshirt. My a-arms. Covered.” Neil felt himself tense again. Were they going backwards? Was Andrew about to start descending again, where Neil couldn’t hold onto him?

Despite his panic, Neil nodded, carefully not to touch Andrew as he stood. Without thinking, he peeled off his own unfortunately dampened sweatshirt and held it down towards Andrew, who eyed the bright orange article of clothing for a moment too long.

Neil cursed himself as it occurred to him. Why the fuck would Andrew want a shirt that smells like someone else’s body, that had their sweat staining it?

“Shit. I’ll go get —“ But Neil stopped when the Palmetto sweatshirt was tugged from his grasp. Bewildered, he blinked down at Andrew, who held the sweater but did not move to put it on. Neil remembered he was supposed to be giving him space, swallowed and nodded, then turned on his heels. He shut the door behind him, hoping he wouldn’t hear it lock immediately after.

He would be as far away as Andrew needed, but he also needed to know that he could reach him if need be.

Suddenly exhausted from the night’s events, he trudged through the empty dorm room and pulled back the orange covers of his bed, letting his body fall into it. He lay his hands over his stomach, staring intently at the top bunk as Kevin’s clock ticked in the otherwise silent room and his chest rose and fell rhythmically. Tired as he was, he wished he were running, or practicing at the court. He knew for sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with the scene from the bar playing over and over again in his head.

Neil heard a chime from his jean pocket and pulled out his phone to a text message. It was Matt, who’d sent a grainy photo of a drivers license and nothing else. Neil shot up into a sitting position and studied the photo.

“Lyle Armstrong,” Neil read aloud to himself, tasting the name in his mouth. It was bitter and unpleasant. Was this his first time trying to date-rape someone, or did he make a habit of it? What had made him decide to target their group on this particular night? Neil took a moment to study the man one last time. He let the hot, burning hatred consume him, tried to understand it. No matter how unattractive, Neil couldn’t find it in himself to be guilty for what he was about to do. He managed apathetic at best. He pulled up Stuart’s number, staring down at his still bloodied fingers.

It rang twice before a scratchy voice picked up.

“What?”

“I need a favor,” Neil said.

“Been doing you a lot of favors, lately. I don’t remember where in our arrangement I said I’d be at your beck and call. This isn’t exactly staying under the radar.” Neil had a brief moment of regretting his hit on the former Raven before shutting it down. The comparison to Drake that Jean had made of Grayson was enough to light the fire back with a raging fury inside Neil.

“His name is Lyle Armstrong. I’ll send you a photo of his drivers license. It needs to look accidental — there were witnesses to us interacting with him tonight. He’s a piece of shit so I doubt anyone will be looking too closely when he chokes, but I can’t say for sure. Will you do it or not?” Neil tapped his foot impatiently as Stuart deliberated silently on the other line.

“You’ll owe me for this,” Stuart said finally. Neil nodded. He was used to deals. He expected them.

“Name your price,” Neil said, although he knew he didn’t realistically have much to give.

“You talk like a man who has much more to gamble. Don’t get cocky now, kid. Remember what you came from.”

“Noted. What do you want in return?” Neil was growing impatient. He didn’t want Andrew to overhear the conversation. Not because he wanted to hide it, but because he wanted to put anything related to this man as far away from Andrew as possible.

“I’ll let you know when I need to cash in,” Stuart sighed. “You’re on the hook now, you understand? You know better than most people what that means. If Ichirou comes down on you for these hits, I won’t be there to save your ass again. How much of yourself are you willing to put in debt?”

“I have enough to lose that I’m willing to risk anything,” Neil said simply. “That’s what makes me dangerous. Make sure it’s sooner than later, I don’t want him to have time to run.” Stuart scoffed.

“It took me a while to notice, but you really do sound like the butcher’s son,” Stuart muttered, no doubt remembering his sister’s absence. Neil flinched but said nothing, unwilling to jeopardize Stuart’s help. “Don’t tell me how to put out a hit, kid. You’re out of your league.” His uncle sounded annoyed, but Neil could hear him writing something down, so he held his tongue once more and waited.

“That all, then? Or is there another favor I can do for you tonight?”

“That’s all,” Neil said, and promptly hung up. He wanted Stuart to get to work as quickly as possible. He wanted Armstrong dead by morning. Knuckles white in his clenched fist, he took a breath and checked his phone again. A text from Renee had appeared atop Matt’s.

Aaron’s asking what happened tonight. What should we tell him?

Neil glanced at the bathroom door. The sink inside was running but he heard nothing else. He swallowed nervously.

I’ll ask.

Neil replied simply. He didn’t know if Aaron was the thing Andrew needed right now. It was possible, given what Neil had witnessed last Thanksgiving. Neil guiltily realized how much the prospect of it annoyed him. Andrew was so raw right now, and Neil didn’t trust Aaron’s ability to not be a blunt, calloused asshole. But it had been the twins before it had been anyone, certainly long before Neil ever came into the picture. Aaron may be able to bring an equilibrium to Andrew in a way Neil couldn’t, may be the only person in the world who knew how to find Andrew in the darkness they’d once shared.

Neil sighed, standing and smoothing out his t-shirt. After sending Stuart the photo of their target, he walked over to the bathroom door and knocked softly twice, hearing the water cease and footsteps. Andrew opened the door, eyes on the floor and Neil’s orange hoodie snug on his torso.

“Hey,” Neil said softly, tilting his head down to try and meet Andrew’s eyes. Andrew seemed like he was just barely stopping himself from being pulled down by gravity, like the life had been sucked out of him. But the shaking had eased, at least.

“Do you want Aaron?” Neil asked. Andrew was keeping his hollow eyes firmly at their feet, but after a moment, he shook his head.

“He’ll just put on the fussy doctor hat and piss me off.” He finally brought his head up, staring into Neil’s eyes. Andrew’s were drooping and unfocused as if he was concussed.

“Okay,” Neil replied. “Do you want me to stay?”

Andrew slowly raised his hand, watching his own fingers graze Neil’s banded forearm. He seemed so sluggish and out of it that Neil was second-guessing the hospital thing, but he stubbornly refused to bring it up. Maybe Aaron should be there, he thought. Or maybe Neil should switch his major to medicine.

“Shut up,” Andrew said gruffly, fingers enclosing around Neil’s wrist. The heat of it burned all the way up his arm. Andrew looked pale in the bright orange, but ethereally so. Neil couldn’t stop looking — it was a far cry from Andrew’s usual dark grays and blacks, or the titanium white of his jersey. It made him seem faded and spectral, like an old photograph or smoky apparition interrupted by the stain of obnoxious tangerine.

Neil felt a loose thread of panic weaving its way into his nervous system. Maybe Andrew was angry with him for allowing this to happen again, failing to return the protection Andrew so easily offered. Maybe he’d heard Neil’s conversation with Stuart and was disgusted by Neil’s deadly protectiveness, his disregard of consequences. Andrew didn’t need Neil like Neil did him — it wasn’t ridiculous to think that Andrew wanted nothing from him tonight, or ever again. If this was the straw that broke the camels back, Neil would understand instantly, although he knew the rejection would sting regardless.

“Ask me,” Andrew whispered. He was frowning at Neil’s face like he was trying to solve a puzzle there, made of scars and stolen identities. Neil felt the air leave his lungs for the hundredth time that night.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, and then he was grabbing the back of Neil’s neck like he always did, pulling their bodies together in a familiar dance. Their eyes remained open a second too long, due to Neil’s shock and Andrew’s need for control. Neil could feel their teeth clack, their breaths catch. He pushed his hands into his pockets by habit, but Andrew was tugging his wrist, pulling it up towards his face. Neil’s palm flattened on the side of his head, over Andrew’s ear, and stayed planted there. Andrew was his mark, and Neil wasn’t letting go. With the thrill of the game in his gut, Neil pushed back ever so slightly, chasing Andrew’s open mouth like a prize. He pulled at soft bottom lip and allowed Andrew to lick at his molars, feeling totally consumed, grounded. Andrew’s hand had slipped under Neil’s t-shirt and was gripping Neil’s hip. His fingers were digging in like he was trying to hold sand in his grasp. It was sloppy work for Andrew’s standards. More desperate than usual.

Neil pulled back just slightly, pushing his forehead against Andrew’s when his partner went in for another searing kiss. Their heaving breaths were the only noise in the room, but it was as loud as stadium cheering.

“I’m sorry,” Neil whispered, allowing Andrew to press a kiss into his jaw as he sighed.

“Stop talking,” Andrew growled into his neck, although the kisses stopped. The air was heavy between them.

“He shouldn’t have been able to touch you. I should’ve noticed,” Neil ground out, fingers still sliding through short, blonde hair. Andrew grasped his jaw firmly and with whatever scathing anger he had left in him.

“I’m going to kill you. We both know who should’ve noticed. Your martyrdom does nothing for either of us.”

Neil spoke through his squished cheeks. “He’s dead. I called it in. If he isn’t yet he will be soon.” Andrew turned Neil’s face away, although not with the strength he usually possessed.

“Quit trying to save me,” Andrew said. “I’m not impressed.” Neil nodded, turning his head back and running his thumb over the edge of Andrew’s cheekbone. He was surprised that he was allowed this, that Andrew could stomach being this close. Neil worried that it was the drugs influence, but knew better than to question Andrew’s autonomy.

“I want you to be safe,” Neil murmured, allowing his eyes to travel up and down the length of Andrew’s smaller body. “I want anyone who tries to take that from you to be dead. I can’t help it.”

“Try harder,” Andrew said, but he was slumping into Neil’s frame, drained of whatever rage had been holding him up.

“Do you want to lie down?” Neil asked, keeping one hand firmly on Andrew’s face and the other steadying his waist. He hadn’t asked, but he couldn’t let Andrew fall unless he directly commanded it, in which case Neil would have to practice tremendous self-restraint. Andrew nodded.

“My bunk?” Neil asked. At this, Andrew hesitated. “It would be easier for you to get into. I can still leave any time you want.” Andrew placed a bandaged hand over Neil’s mouth, narrowing his hooded eyes.

“Your bed is fine. I will ask if I need you to.” Neil felt the urge to ask how any of this was okay, an old and familiar compulsion. He bit it back, though. Andrew had already given him an explanation, even though it hadn’t been owed. Neil asked, and it was enough. Simple, easy truths, except nothing with them was simple or easy. It just was.

Neil nodded, snaking an arm around Andrew’s torso to lead him to the beds.  Andrew sat down first, heavy and off balance. Neil swallowed his nerves and watched as Andrew lay close to the wall, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. Neil dragged Kevin’s vomit bucket (disgusting but necessary) over toward the bed after a second thought, remembering the side effects of the drugs. He paused by the bed, watching the rise and fall of Andrew’s chest and wondered if he’d fallen asleep already.

“You’re getting in bed,” Andrew said, not quite a question or an order. Something in between, almost like a wish.

“Are you sure?” Neil asked, because he couldn’t help it. Andrew cracked an eye open at him, not glaring or hateful or manic. He just looked tired. Neil let the hesitation go and crawled into the small bed, trying not to jostle Andrew as he lay down. when they were face to face on their sides, Andrew’s eyes were closed again, his curled hand resting in between them. Their exhales ghosted across each other’s faces, and Neil felt too warm and too cold all at once.

“Hey,” Neil whispered, just to see if he’d get a response and to let Andrew know he was there. He was looking and he wasn’t afraid.

“Yes or no,” Andrew croaked back, flexing his hand. Instead of answering, Neil took the bandaged extremity and intertwined their fingers, watching the way they wove together. Andrew lifted both their hands slightly and pulled them towards his face. Neil could feel lips brushing against his knuckles and shuddered.

“You stopped it. You’re not going to feel guilty about this,” Andrew said, so quiet that Neil almost didn’t catch it. When he did, Neil felt himself freeze. It was too rare a display of gratitude from Andrew for Neil to be comforted. Still, Neil shifted closer until they were nearly touching foreheads and sighed softly.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about this. What about you?” He said quietly.

“It takes more than a drugged groping to rattle me, Neil. You should know this.” Neil frowned, shuttered slightly at the brash dismissal.

“I’d say that makes one of us, but I don’t believe you. You can’t keep pretending you don’t feel things when I know you do.”

“I’m not having this conversation tonight. There is no need, it changes nothing,” Andrew said, and Neil couldn’t figure out if he meant what happened earlier in the night or the nature of their relationship. He didn’t ask.

“What do you need?” Neil questioned instead, quiet and soft. Andrew said nothing for a moment, but his eyebrows and mouth twitched like he was arguing with himself. Neil wondered if he should leave.

But Andrew then was sitting up clumsily, pushing Neil’s shoulder back, and then falling into Neil’s chest in one quick movement, settling like a heavy blanket over his body.

“Andrew?” Neil asked breathlessly, hands up in habitual surrender. He looked down at the blonde head of hair situated on his collarbone and felt his heart thudding. It felt strange with the weight of a person resting there. Neil was sure he’d never been so close to someone, their bodies pressed so closely together it was hard to tell where Neil started and Andrew ended.

“I need to hold onto something,” Andrew admitted into the fabric of Neil’s shirt. “Don’t make me keep talking.” Neil swallowed, allowing his hands fall onto Andrew’s warm back. Neil was overcome with something he didn’t have a name for, and while that sort of unknown was usually disorienting and panic inducing, this time felt different.

Andrew smelled like shampoo and smoke and antiseptic. He’d deemed Neil worthy of being something to hold onto at his most defenseless. Was this being needed, Neil wondered? No, being needed was when the foxes bullied him onto their court to try and save their unpromising season. Being needed was being back to back with his mother in a grimy hotel room, watching the door while she slept. This shouldn’t be different but it was, and Neil carded his fingers into Andrew’s sweat dampened hair, feeling concerned over a sudden lump in his throat. This was something different. This was what he’d stopped running for.

Andrew buried his face against Neil’s throat and didn’t say anything else, finally submitting to the sedation effects of the drugs. Andrew had been uncharacteristically pliant through all this, missing the perpetual tension he held in his body. His breathing was slow and even, so Neil pressed his mouth into the top of Andrew’s head. He felt himself following despite his best efforts, too exhausted by the emotional storm of a night to be kept awake pondering over Andrew’s lack of boundaries. Neil was easily lulled by the comfortable weight on his chest. He felt he’d been scraped open raw and then filled with warm honey.

Before he could fully succumb, he pulled his phone out and texted Renee back discreetly, trying not to jostle the face burrowed into his sternum.

Tell Aaron to wait until morning. We are fine.

She texted back almost immediately.

Neil fine or real fine? :)

Neil briefly debated sending Renee a picture of Andrew lying against him, but that felt like a violation of their privacy. He stroked gently at Andrew’s hair and replied.

Real fine, I think. Goodnight.

He shut his phone off without waiting for a reply. He readjusted himself underneath Andrew, breathing in his smell — thankfully clean of the coppery stench of blood. Neil looped his arm around Andrew’s muscled back and squeezed gently, once again swallowing that choking feeling in his throat. He hoped that they would both sleep through the night while having their bodies touching like this, but Neil doubted it. They usually slept with hands touching, at most, as it decreased the chance of them maiming each other during violent wake-ups. But tonight, Andrew had chosen the necessary evil of Neil’s embrace because he needed to be grounded. Neil tried not to feel guilty about how good it felt up until he finally nodded off into a heavy sleep.

Andrew and Neil had woken up once when Andrew vomited around 3 AM. Neil had scrambled to support him, whispering assurances into the darkness as Andrew heaved and trembled over the bucket.

“It’s just us,” Neil had said. “It’s just you and me here and nobody else.” Andrew had been disoriented and half-awake, a low fever sitting under his skin. When he got consent, he had brushed Andrew’s hair back gently. He grabbed their Tylenol out from the bedside chest and a glass of lukewarm water, then forced Andrew to drink, holding the glass to his spit-slick lips.

“I didn’t say it,” Andrew said afterward, his voice hitching up just slightly. Neil was laying an arms length away from him.

“You didn’t. You’re strong like that. You always have been.” Neil could barely see Andrew in the dark of the dorm, but could tell he was trembling again through the bed. Andrew had backed himself into the wall.

“Andrew, do you need me to go?” Neil asked, perfectly prepared to jump out of the bed and give him some space. Andrew would probably have holes in his memory and be panicking as the drugs wore off through the night, and Neil had expected this. He felt more than he saw it, but Andrew shook his head.

“Stay. Just don’t touch me.”

“We can go up to the roof, if you want. We don’t have to sleep.” Andrew shook his head again, clearly frustrated.

“I can’t walk that far right now,” he said, just slightly slurring his words as he clenched the blanket in his jittering hands. It reminded Neil of when Andrew would go through his awful withdrawals, crashing violently as the manic smile slipped off his face. Neil wondered if he wanted a bottle of whiskey like he used to, but didn’t say anything.

Neil had murmured about Exy for a while, low and steady as Andrew lay listening, and they both had fallen back asleep as dawn crept onto the horizon.

They might’ve got a decent amount of hours worth of sleep in total if someone hadn’t pounded on their door at seven AM, jolting them both awake. Andrew’s hand had flown to his forearm, but he’d taken off his bands and knives the other night, leaving nothing under the sweatshirt but skin. His gaze darted around the room in wild confusion and he was scratching at his bare arms. Neil was in no better condition, out of the bed and poised on the floor, prepared to run. They were both sweaty and breathing heavily.

There was another knock.

“It’s Aaron,” the voice outside said, restrained and tense. “Are you guys awake?” Neil glanced at Andrew, who was glaring at the door.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked simply. The young morning light was streaming in through their windows, coloring Andrew’s hair yellow. He looked ragged and tired but seemed more attuned to his surroundings.

“Let him in, or he’ll stand there all morning.” Neil obediently went to the door, opening it to a scrub-clad Aaron. Neil raised an eyebrow at him.

“We weren’t awake until about ten seconds ago, thanks for that.” Aaron glared at him.

“Fuck you. Nobody would tell me anything last night but I knew something happened. Nicky was all upset over it. I don’t know why I deserved to be left in the dark about it!”

“Because you’re an asshole,” Neil said easily, but he turned to the side so that Aaron could see his brother. Andrew flicked his eyes towards Aaron lazily, leaning back against the headboard. Andrew didn’t have any visible wounds other than his hand, so it surprised Neil when Aaron froze and stared at his twin. If Aaron noticed that Andrew was Neil’s bed, it wasn’t visible to Neil. He just looked afraid.

“What happened?”

“One too many. It was a hell of a time, you should’ve been there.” Andrew’s tone was mocking and dismissive, and Aaron’s mouth twitched. Neil stood back and bit his tongue bloody.

“You’re shaking,” Aaron observed, eloquent as ever. But he was right, Neil noticed. Andrew was probably spooked by his brother’s obnoxious entrance, and it only served to fuel Neil’s irritation. He watched as Aaron stalked the room and sat heavily on the bed at Andrew feet. Aaron reached for Andrew’s wrist, probably to check his pulse, and jumped when Andrew jerked his hand away. Aaron was pale, his arm still extended towards Andrew. He let it drop with a dull thud onto the bed.

“We’re not playing this game today,” Andrew said flatly. “Go bother somebody else.”

“What happened?” Aaron demanded, and Neil realized he was the one being addressed. Aaron was staring daggers into him. Neil glanced at Andrew, who met his bleary eyed gaze.

“The junkie can tell you, I’m going back to sleep.”

Neil was surprised that Andrew had allocated the job to him, too much so to be annoyed by it. Andrew flopped back onto the pillows, face hidden in the crook of his arm.

Neil allowed himself a soft smile before gesturing for Aaron to trail him out of the dorm. Aaron scowled, but his curiosity was apparently stronger than his annoyance. He followed Neil out of the room, sparing a glance back at his twin. Neil shut the door behind them with a quiet click and turned to face his least favorite Minyard.

“I leave you guys for one fucking night and something happens,” Aaron growled, pointing at the door like Andrew could be seen through it. “Whats wrong with him now?”

“A guy spiked his drink. It was originally meant for Allison, apparently, but the idiot messed them up. Guess he figured he’d take what he could get,” Neil said gruffly, the words sour in his mouth. He was too tired to pull his punches. Aaron’s face melted from anger into horror.

“He didn’t —“

“He was touching Andrew when I found them, but he hadn’t gotten far.” In a moment, Aaron’s anger was back.

“What the hell? Why weren’t you with him? How could you let this happen?” Neil agreed with him, but he hated Aaron, so he darkened his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest.

“At least I was there to pick him up afterwards. Where were you?” Neil asked, quiet and deadly. Aaron didn’t falter.

“It’s different and you know it,” Aaron hissed. His voice shook a little. Neil felt some of the fight leave him.

“Kevin was supposed to be with him, and Andrew can look after himself. I started tearing that place apart the second I realized he was gone. Your anger towards me is displaced,” Neil said, though he didn’t fully believe it. But Aaron’s shoulders slumped and Neil relaxed slightly too, leaning against their door and staring down the hallway rather than at Aaron.

“I’m going to murder Kevin. And the asshole who did it,” Aaron muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I took care of the latter, Kevin’s all you.” Aaron narrowed his eyes, trying to see if Neil was speaking in hyperbole. When Neil remained straight faced and serious, Aaron nodded solemnly.

“I guess you’re good for something, then,” the backliner quipped. Neil scowled.

“Were you born a grade A dick, or do you choose to be unpleasant?” Aaron just shook his head and stared at the floor in response. The two sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rare sounds of early risers getting up for their days.

“Why does this keep happening to him?” Aaron asked finally, quiet and pained. His fist was clenched like he was holding a racquet in it. “What is it about him?” Neil frowned and jerked his head to meet Aaron’s gaze.

“It’s never been about him. Never. Maybe people get dealt shitty hands to make the rest of us feel better about our own, I don’t know. There’s no rhyme or reason. There’s plenty of sick fucks in this world to go around, and it sure as hell isn’t Andrew’s fault that he’s had the misfortune of crossing paths with half of them.” Neil was talking loud but he didn’t care if Andrew heard him through the thin walls. It was all true, anyway.

“I never said that it was!” Aaron cried, fisting his hands in his hair and taking a breath. “I just — I don’t understand it.” He gestured limply at himself like Neil was supposed to understand what he meant. All Aaron got in response was a frown. Aaron rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“You really are dense, Josten. Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I have clinic hours and I need to go. Tell Andrew —“ Aaron cut himself off. He’d already begun to walk away, but he stopped suddenly. Neil shivered a bit — the hallway was draftier than their dorm. He wanted to crawl back into his warm bed with Andrew breathing next to him. “Tell him if he needs me, I’m around.” Aaron said finally, not turning around to face Neil. Neil scoffed.

“Andrew doesn’t need anything.”

Aaron twitched a little at that and resumed walking, but not before muttering, “yeah, right.” Before the stairwell door could shut behind him, Neil called out.

“I’ll tell him.”

Aaron didn’t stop or indicate that he’d heard. The door banged behind him. Neil huffed, slightly guilty about his attitude. He hoped Andrew didn’t blame him for Aaron’s sudden departure. Sighing, he spun on the balls of his socked feet to return to their dorm before hearing the sound of another door opening. Grimacing, Neil turned back around.

A disheveled Kevin had emerged from Aaron’s dorm, looking ill and unsteady. Neil swallowed his immediate anger as best he could as Kevin looked up to make eye contact. Kevin’s were bloodshot and crusty.

“What?” Neil said, after an uncomfortable bout of silence.

“I heard voices,” Kevin explained, as if it that what was what Neil meant. Neil felt his anger spike, nostrils flaring in warning.

“That’s no good. You should get that checked, along with your severe brain cell deficiency from all the booze you drown yourself in,” Neil jested. Kevin had the good sense to flinch but Neil wasn’t done. “No really, is it all the blows you take to the head, the alcohol, or your complete and total self-absorption that makes you so incompetent at thinking about other people?”

Kevin grit his teeth and returned his eyes to the floor. He was still wearing the maroon shirt he’d gone out in the other night, but must’ve borrowed somebody else’s pajama pants because they stopped well above his ankles.

“I barely remember the other night, but I know that I failed him. It was a lapse in judgment,” Kevin muttered. Neil barely held back an astounded laugh.

“A lapse in judgement,” Neil repeated, tasting the phrase in his mouth. “That’s one way of saying it.” Kevin scoffed, toeing at the carpet with his foot.

“I’m sorry, alright? Really. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. It fixes nothing,” Neil said flatly, inadvertently echoing Andrew’s earlier words. “Andrew could’ve been… “ Neil stopped, too disgusted to say it out loud despite his familiarity with violence. Kevin looked a little ill, too. They were quiet for a few seconds.

“It will not happen again,” Kevin said softly, meeting Neil’s eyes again. Neil shook his head.

“Don’t tell me that. Tell him. And prove it — put your money where your mouth is. All he does is look out for you, and you make his job impossible when you turn into a belligerent idiot.” Kevin’s mouth tensed in annoyance but he nodded. He glanced at their door.

“Is he awake?”

“I’m doubtful that he wants to speak to you right now. Wait until practice or something.” Kevin looked displeased at this, but sighed and turned back towards the other room. Before the two of them could shut the doors on each other, Kevin piped up again.

“I will not let you down again, I promise.” Neil pursed his lips and waited until he heard the other door shut. He knew Kevin was beating himself up over this, even if his apology was lackluster at best. It didn’t make Neil feel better, but he was at least thankful that Kevin recognized his carelessness. Kevin was egocentric, but he wasn’t heartless. He too had been privy to the horrors of last Thanksgiving. Neil let out a long-held breath and returned to his own room, finding Andrew in the same position Neil had left him in. He quietly returned to the bed, peeling the blanket back so he could settle in beside Andrew.

“What did my better half have to say?” Andrew croaked, not moving his arm from over his eyes. Neil jumped a bit — he’d thought Andrew had fallen asleep again.

“He chewed me out a bit. Usual Aaron shit. He said he was around if you needed him. I told him you didn’t need anything, don’t worry. Kevin was up too. Fair warning, you’re due for an awkward conversation later,” Neil responded, staring at the rise and fall of Andrew’s chest. He watched as Andrew slowly flipped on his side, taking one of Neil’s mutilated hands in his. Neil felt immediately less agitated as Andrew’s hand stroked over the scars there.

“Are you okay?” Neil asked softly. He wasn’t sure what Andrew would remember from the previous night, or what ghosts might’ve resurfaced. Andrew flicked him an annoyed gaze, but closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“Stop asking stupid questions. I need nothing, I want nothing, and I have nothing,” Andrew murmured info the quiet dawn. Neil hid his grin in his pillow, allowing his eyes to fall shut as well. They both allowed themselves to catch a few more hours of sleep before facing the day, anchored only to each other, like twin ships in a raging storm.