Archive of Our Own ^beta

Neil could feel Andrew's restlessness from the other side of the room. 

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and Andrew had been having nightmares all week. They got so bad that Neil had to retreat to his own bed and listen as Andrew gasped awake every night. Kevin, of course, had slept through it like nothing was going on. 

Neil both resented and felt grateful for it. See, he liked that Andrew had enough privacy to regain consciousness and smoke in peace, but at the same time, Neil hated that he was the only one who ever noticed that Andrew was suffering.

The Foxes—besides the new ones—had all been toptoeing around Andrew and Aaron, trying not to set them off. Jack, of course, had some…thoughts about the whole thing. 

“Big brother won't be here to complete your Thanksgiving this year, Minyard. How hard it must be having a brother that killed your other brother.” Neil had to be held back by both Matt and Nicky after that, and other similar comments. 

Tonight was the same. 

Neil woke up to the sound of Andrew gasping and shoving the blankets off his body. Neil stared at the ceiling as he listened to Andrew's breath slow down.

Andrew did the same thing every night he had a nightmare—stand up, lean on the bed for balance until he was steady enough to walk, shower, brush his teeth, then sit in the window to smoke a few cigarettes. 

Today though, he skipped the shower and teeth brushing part of his routine, and went straight to sitting in the windowsill to chainsmoke. 

Neil looked at his watch—4:27. He'd give Andrew until 4:35 before going to talk to him. 

Eight minutes later, Neil sat up and pushed the blankets to his feet and climbed down the bunk to sit on the floor next to Andrew, but far enough away that Andrew shouldn't feel too uncomfortable. 

“What?” Andrew bit out, but Neil knew that the anger wasn't directed at him. 

“I booked a hotel,” Neil said, letting Andrew interpret it however he wanted. 

“Why?” 

“Thought it'd be fun,” Neil said, picking his cuticles. “It's about five hours away. If you want to go.”

“Why?”

“I hear Raleigh is nice. I've never been—almost did, but Mary made us change courses halfway there,” Neil said.

“Raleigh,” Andrew deadpanned, lighting a new cigarette. Neil shrugged in response. “When are we leaving?”

“I was thinking we'd skip morning practice and our classes, and stop in Columbia at Sweeties for breakfast. Good?” 

Instead of answering, Andrew stubbed out his cigarette, and stood up. Apparently too fast though, because he put his hand over his eyes and leaned on the wall for a good second before trudging to the bathroom. Neil didn't leave his spot on the floor until he heard the shower turn on.

A few minutes later, Kevin woke up, groaning aggressively into his pillow. He sat up, and was met immediately with the sight of Neil packing a duffel bag. “You're not leaving,” is what he said. Neil couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Kevin, pillow lines on his cheeks, and unbelievably messy bed head, being so serious about something other than Exy at five o'clock in the morning.

“I am. I'll be gone until the day after tomorrow,” Neil said, shoving a pair of socks in his beloved duffel bag.

“Andrew can't be okay with this, especially not with Exy—”

“—Kevin, use that fucking huge sized ball inside your head and tell me; does Andrew ever give a shit about Exy?” Neil turned his body to face Kevin fully.

“Well, No, but—”

“No buts. If it makes you feel better, Andrew is coming too, so he'll also miss out on his favorite sport,” Neil replied dramatically. He heard the water shut off as he packed the last of his bag and threw it over his shoulder as he kicked Kevin out of the room so he could change into a different pair of sweatpants and a soft hoodie that didn't irritate his scars.

Andrew came out of the bathroom a few minutes later dressed in black jeans and a hoodie Neil bought him for his “Not Birthday” since Andrew wouldn't accept it any other way. 

“My bag is packed, I'll wait in the car,” Neil said. The silent Take your time was still heard by Andrew, who rolled his eyes and turned away from Neil. 

He jogged down the stairs, since he figured he wouldn't go on a run in Raleigh unless Andrew wanted him too. 

In the car, he shot Wymack a quick text that read, “Andrew and I are leaving for a few days. Not dead.”

He kicked his feet on the windshield and thought back to last Thanksgiving—the blood, the laughing. It made him sick. 

He knew Andrew wouldn't want to go to Columbia, and mostly needed some space away from the foxes—however good-intended they may be—to regain some sense of the wretched holiday. He didn't expect Andrew to have fun on the trip, he just wanted to give Andrew a place for his body to remember the trauma it went through where he wouldn't be forced to pretend he was okay. 

He thought about how on the anniversary of his Mom's death, Andrew had said something: “The body remembers trauma, Abram. Even If you forget, your body never will. That's what Bee told me.” After that, Andrew had taken Neil on a drive all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, and they watched stars and came up with an apocalypse plan. He gave a new meaning to the date, and although the day still hadn't been the best for Neil, he could now associate the day with Andrew. He wanted to do that for Andrew. 

About ten minutes later, Neil watched Andrew walk out through the doors, a backpack on and three bottles of whiskey in his arms. The sky was just beginning to lighten, despite the fact that the sun wouldn't rise for over an hour. Andrew opened the back door and tossed his bag in haphazardly and set the bottles on the floor. 

“If you'd like to drink, I can drive,” Neil offered, which earned him a tired glare. Neil nodded and turned his gaze back to the front of the car, listening as the car purred to life in the satisfying way Andrew loved. 

Before long, Andrew had all four windows down and music blaring as they drove down the familiar road to Columbia. 

At Sweeties, Neil ordered black coffee, eggs, toast, and hash browns, while Andrew ordered the waffles with the most sugar, and a monstrosity of an iced coffee. 

The rest of the ride was filled with more wind rustling their hair and music too loud to hear their own thoughts. 

The hotel was nice, Neil made sure of it. The inside was a deep red that had gold accents, and seemed more like a castle than a hotel. Neil got them checked in, and led Andrew to the elevator (Neil wouldn't make Andrew walk up all those stairs, he'd for sure either have a heart attack or faint) and pushed the button to bring them to the fifth floor. 

The room was the same as downstairs, but smaller. Red carpets, red walls, gold trim, yada yada. Neil noticed what Andrew's attention had been caught on—the bed. Or rather, the beds. Neil booked a room with two twin sized beds, not knowing what Andrew would be okay with, but also knowing that if they wished, they could push the beds together. He wasn't counting on that though, hence why he got the double beds.

“Did you drink your electrolytes this morning?” Neil asked, swinging his bag onto the bed farther from the window; Andrew liked being closer to the window. Though, this wasn't about fear, it was about genuine preferences. Neil was pleased to learn that a few months ago. 

“No.”

“You should, you'll be miserable if you don't. I was planning on going to a museum,” Neil said, digging through his bag for the extra LMNT electrolytes he packed for Andrew. Watermelon flavor. Andrew's favorite. 

“A museum,” Andrew replied, taking the packet and mixing it with his water. “Why?”

“I hear it's hands-on. Mary never took me to a museum, it sounds fun.” Andrew hummed in response, and Neil flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes. He heard Andrew turn the TV to some documentary, 

The next thing Neil knew was that he'd woken up and the light had taken on a new color. He looked over at Andrew, who was laying on his bed (now pushed against the wall) with his feet on said wall—a position he never did in front of other Foxes, but brought his heart rate down. 

“What's it at?” Neil asked.

Andrew knew he was asking about his heart rate, because he replied “130. I just laid down,” with a sigh.

“Damn. What were you doing?”

“Changing clothes.” Neil realized belatedly that Andrew, indeed, was wearing new clothes; black sweatpants, an orange long-sleeve shirt he only wore around the dorms, and compression socks. 

“No museum?” Neil asked, knowing that sometimes, Andrew's autonomic system just didn't want him to walk, and that was okay. Neil was happy to lay in and watch movies with Andrew. 

“No museum,” Andrew confirmed. 

They spent the rest of the night watching Disney movies that Nicky and the upperclassmen had not yet shown Neil, like Bambi , Dumbo , and Pinocchio . Neil now understood all the times Andrew had referred to him as the latter, and laughed when he realized. 

Andrew managed to find enough spare energy to get in the car and let Neil drive him to a Chinese place to order to-go, and go back to the hotel. 

“Would you like some food with your soy sauce?” Neil joked, holding out his plate of bourbon chicken to Andrew, who rolled his eyes and took a bite. 

“It's not my fault you eat everything dry,” Andrew deadpanned. 

“It's not like I had the choice to be picky about whether my food was drowning in soy sauce while on the run. I got used to it” Neil explained, not even listening to thr commercial in the background.

“Heathen,” Andrew responded before they fell into a comfortable silence. 

Neil didn't know how much more Andrew would talk tonight, but Neil didn't mind though, the silences shared with Andrew were as meaningful as the conversations. 

“Are you done?” Neil asked, gesturing to Andrew's plate, to which he got a nod. Neil took care of the leftovers and dishes, and returned to his bed content and full. 

Andrew turned the light off after one more movie, and Neil knew it meant that Andrew would try to sleep. Good, he needed it, because tomorrow wouldn't be the best. 

Neil fell asleep listening to Andrew's breathing even out from the other bed. 

***

Andrew woke with a start, clutching his chest, and heaving as silently as he could, but it was no use. He knew Neil was already woken up. And he would not let himself feel anything about it. 

One look at his watch told him it was 5:17 A.M., which was more sleep than he'd been getting. 

His mind was riddled with the feeling of phantom hands travelling where they shouldn't, and his skin itched with the presence of another body in the same room as him, but it was Neil, and Neil was…safe. 

After a few minutes, Andrew got himself out of bed and into the shower after grabbing a spare change of clothes. He didn't want to deal with the feeling of having no clothes on, but that was a smaller battle in his head than the fact that his sweat made his shirt stick to him weird. 

When he was as good as he could be, he sat on the floor of the bathroom and picked at the raised scars on his arms. He didn't want to self harm, he made a promise to himself and he would not break it. 

He thought back last year on this very day—how Luther had a “peace offering”. How Andrew should have known, but only caught on a second too late. 

He thought of Andy , and please and no, no, I'll be good , and a small helpless boy begging a God he didn't believe in to take the pain away. 

He thought of Drake, Jessie, and Ella. He thought of the boy who needed to get away so badly, he put himself in Juvie. He thought about Aaron, and his deal to protect him from the people he couldn't protect himself from. 

He thought of Neil. 

If it means losing you, then no. 

I want to see you lose control.

I won't let you let me be. 

Thank you, you were amazing. 

Yes or no?

Choices. The option to say no. 

No.

No. 

No!

He felt something in his chest almost…crack? No, that wasn't right, he wasn't bleeding. 

The heavy feeling rose from his stomach up to his throat, and before he knew it, he had tears in his eyes. 

No. 

Andrew hadn't cried since he was ten, and realized it didn't make anything better. 

He took a deep breath, and shoved the feeling down by thinking of something else, something infuriating. Exy. 

Jersey number 12 of the team they went against next week was a backliner, 5'11, and 179.3 pounds. 

He felt the familiar well of irritation, and opened the door, met with the sight of Neil, bed-head still messy, and the TV on some random channel about cars and racing. Andrew didn't care. 

He felt the same cracking feeling, and sat on the bed next to Neil, but not touching. He found himself wanting to be close to Neil, which was strange, but he didn't look too deep into it. 

He changed the TV to another Disney movie; Mulan. This was Andrew's favorite Disney movie, and one Neil hadn't seen yet. He didn't pay attention to the movie as much as the thoughts of pain, and colorful drugs, and more pain, and please make it stop . 

Before he knew it, a sound jumped out of him, and had him shocked down to his core. 

“Andrew?” Neil asked, but Andrew just shook his head. He stood up off Neil's bed, maybe he needed space. But he felt…safe next to Neil. 

Be quiet, AJ, We can't have Mom hearing. 

Oh? A twin? Bet he's as pretty as you.

“Andrew, what's going on?” Neil pulled Andrew out of his thoughts, dragging his eyes to where Neil stood a few feet away. 

Andrew realized then, with horror, what he needed. What he wanted. And now he had to ask for it. He had to ask for Neil to hold him together while he fell apart. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked instead, doing his best to appear apathetic, but failing if Neil's face meant anything. 

“Yes, but what—”

His sentence got cut off by Andrew's arms aggressively—moreso than he meant—wrapping around his torso. His left arm was under Neil's right arm, and his right arm around the neck, pulling close. Close enough to feel Neil's heartbeat on his own chest. 

Real.

Andrew was real. Neil was real. 

“Are you…okay?” A stupid question, given the situation, but Andrew found himself answering honestly. It was Neil, he would never lie to Neil.

“No.”

“Okay. Yes or no?” Neil's response was quiet, a breath in Andrew's ear. 

Yes or no?

No. 

No.

“No,” he responded. He was allowed to say no. 

He was Andrew Minyard, Jersey number three for the Palmetto State Foxes. He had a home, and he was allowed to say no. 

His name was Andrew Minyard. Not Andy. Not AJ. 

“Neil, I'm not okay,” he said again. 

“I'm not okay either. We both got dealt shitty hands in life, but look at us. We're real. You made it out alive, and so did I. The only thing we can do now, is keep living. Even if living comes with days like this, because living is what will help us be okay. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not even in a decade, but as long as we're alive, we can work towards being okay.”

After one more deep breath, Andrew pulled away and looked Neil in the eyes. “Neither of us are okay,” he whispered. The vulnerability was nauseating, but…maybe he didn't need to be afraid of being vulnerable with Neil. 

I want to see you lose control. 

Neil nodded, and Andrew pulled back, grabbing some ice cream he bought last night from the fridge, and sitting on his bed, with Neil on his own.

Andrew wasn't okay, but maybe…he didn't have to be okay all the time with Neil. 

As chocolate filled his taste buds, and the cold container shocked his system into calming down, he felt as close to content as he could. 

He was Andrew Minyard, and he got dealt a shitty hand in life—but he was alive. Alive with his boyfriend a few feet away. Two things he never thought he could have, and he knew that one day, he'd be able to say he was okay, and mean it.