Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts off with all of the Foxes gathered in the girls’ dorm the night before a game, sharing stories. Neil doesn’t like to talk about his childhood, doesn’t even like to think about it more than he has to; he doesn’t have very many good memories. He does like to hear about the Foxes’ childhoods, any good memories they decide to share.  

Neil was sitting on the floor, nestled between Andrew’s legs. It had taken time for Andrew to come along with Neil to spend time with the Foxes like this. Neil hadn’t pushed, leaving the decision completely up to Andrew, but he always asked. Andrew had considered his options; sometimes, having the opportunity to sit alone in a quiet dorm had won out. Eventually, Andrew had decided he’d prefer to tag along with Neil, even if it meant having to socialize with the others. The first time it happened, Neil had smiled and Andrew had kissed it away, biting down on Neil’s bottom lip before he pulled away and walked into the dorm like nothing had happened. 

The feeling of Andrew’s hand in his hair, fingers running through his curls distracted Neil, keeping him from tracking the entire conversation. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there, but Matt was talking about field trips he’d taken in school. His favorite had been the one to the aquarium. Others around the room chimed in with their own memories from going to the aquarium, even Aaron and Kevin who normally didn’t contribute much. Neil and Andrew were the only ones who didn’t say anything. 

Allison’s gaze turned on him, sharp as ever, from her perch on the arm of the chair on the other side of the room. She didn’t say anything at first, and Neil raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’re awfully quiet, Neil,” Allison said. Neil just looked back at her, fingers curling lightly around Andrew’s ankle. “What’s your aquarium story, Josten?”

Neil didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve never been to one before.” He hadn’t been on a field trip before, either. Unless traveling for away games counted as one. 

None of them should have been surprised by Neil’s admission; they knew pieces of what his childhood looked like. They may not have been shocked, but the unintentional looks of pity sent his way made Neil’s skin crawl. Andrew’s hand had paused its movement in his hair for just a second, but Neil had noticed. He shrugged like it meant nothing, hoping to get the attention off of him. His shoulders stiffened, eyes flicking briefly towards the door, fingers tapping restlessly against Andrew’s ankle. 

Matt and Nicky both started talking at the same time, but Neil wasn’t listening, not really. He knew they meant well, but there was still too much attention on him, making the room feel suffocating. He nodded along as they spoke, pretending he had heard the plans they were making or whatever they were saying. 

Andrew noticed, because of course he did. A beat later, Andrew said, low and bored, “We’re leaving.”

Neil didn’t argue, and no one tried to stop them. Neil stood smooth and quiet, Andrew rising shortly after. The room was silent as they left, the door closing behind them with a soft click. No one else left with them. 

Andrew didn’t say anything as they walked down the hall or as they got ready for bed. It wasn’t unusual, but this felt weighted. Neil had never liked Andrew’s silent treatment and was rarely a victim of it. He briefly worried that he’d done something wrong, but had no idea what. 

The worry faded from his mind when Andrew came to stand beside where Neil lay on his bed. Andrew was in his pajamas, looking soft and tired, watching Neil with an unfamiliar look. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked. 

“Yes,” Neil said, voice low. 

Andrew climbed onto the bed and over Neil slowly, pressing him down into the mattress with his weight and his hands. Andrew leaned in, brushing his lips against Neil’s softly once, twice, three times, deepening it as Neil relaxed into it more and more. 

They kissed until Neil couldn’t think anymore. 

—

Neil didn’t think about aquariums again until later that weekend, distracted by the game and the celebrations following their win. He had taken an early morning run, body sore but still buzzing with adrenaline. Andrew was leaning against the hallway wall, waiting for him, when Neil left the bathroom after his shower.

“Hey,” Neil said softly. “Didn’t know you were awake.” 

Andrew shoved a sweatshirt against Neil’s chest, waiting until Neil pulled it over his head. It was one of Andrew’s—worn soft from wear, faintly smelling like him. 

“Let’s go,” Andrew said, reaching for Neil’s wrist and dragging him towards the door.

“Go where?” Neil asked, but Andrew didn’t answer. He just continued walking, knowing Neil would follow because he always did. 

They got into the car, and Andrew got them onto the highway quickly. Neil curled sideways in the passenger seat, body facing Andrew, hand resting on the center console. 

“Are you finally going to carry through on your promise to kill me? A quick death, right?” Neil asked.

“If you don’t shut up, yes,” Andrew replied, but he intertwined his fingers with Neil’s and squeezed gently. 

Neil’s fingers toyed with Andrew’s absentmindedly for a while, tracing his knuckles, ghosting the creases of his palm, until his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. 

He woke up when the engine turned off. Neil blinked against the sunlight, throat dry. The car was parked, and Andrew was watching him.

“Where are we?” Neil asked. 

Andrew tilted his head forward, gesturing to the sign. 

Neil squinted. “Georgia Aquarium?”

“You’ve never been to one,” was all Andrew said. 

Neil didn’t know what to say. His mouth opened and closed a few times until he gave up. Andrew got out of the car and came around to Neil’s side, opening his door when he got tired of waiting. 

Andrew jerked his head towards the entrance. “Sometime today, preferably,” he said. 

Neil blinked. He knew better than to thank Andrew. He finally climbed out of the car and followed Andrew to the stand where they bought their tickets. 

Inside, Neil stopped in the entrance tunnel and just stared. He didn’t know what he expected from an aquarium, but it wasn’t this. The tunnel was dimly lit, the air cool, and the curved glass wrapped overhead like they had stepped inside another world. Sharks and rays and schools of fish drifted above them.

Neil pressed his hand to the glass without realizing he was doing it. There was a sudden quiet in his chest, one that was rare. He didn’t know how to explain it, how the sight simultaneously fascinated him and settled something in his bones. 

Andrew stayed beside her, patiently waiting until Neil was ready to walk further. 

They made it halfway through the ocean tunnel before Neil sat down on the bench, legs drawn up like he might stay there all day. His eyes didn’t leave the movement of the tank other than to glance towards Andrew and to reach for his hand. 

“This is…” Neil pressed his free hand to the glass. “This is fucking insane, Andrew. They’re just here? Right there?”

“You’re going to be insufferable the entire time, aren’t you,” Andrew said, sounding bored, but he was watching all of Neil’s reactions closely. 

Neil grinned at him. “Probably. You like it, though.”

Andrew didn’t respond. He let Neil drag him from tank to tank, looked at everything Neil pointed out to him, let Neil take as much time as he wanted. 

In the reef tunnel, Neil practically forgot how to breathe. It stretched in all directions—above, around, beneath their feet—and Neil slowed to a stop right in the center. A whale shark glided overhead, accompanied by giant groupers and rays that looked like ghosts.

“I didn’t think it’d feel like this,” Neil murmured. “I’ve seen videos. But I didn’t think—”

Andrew’s gaze on him was heavy. “What’d you think it’d feel like?”

“I didn’t think I’d care,” Neil admitted. “I didn’t think I was missing out. But this is—”. He didn’t know how to describe it. He looked at Andrew, watched as the light turned his skin a dreamy sort of blue. 

Andrew said nothing in response, but he rubbed his thumb along his palm soothingly, as if to convey he understood.

They ended up at one of the massive viewing windows, floor-to-ceiling glass where hammerheads circled lazily and shadowy shapes loomed deeper in the tank. 

Neil sat on the floor without saying anything. Andrew sank down beside him.

It was quiet. There was no one else nearby, and the only sound was the distant hum of filtration systems, the soft whoosh of fish moving through pressurized water.

After a while, Neil leaned sideways, resting his head on Andrew’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he knew he didn’t have to. Andrew pressed a light kiss to his temple and squeezed his hand softly. 

They sat like that for a long time. Neil couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this calm, this still. 

Eventually, Neil said, “We should come back sometime.”

Andrew didn’t answer, but Neil felt the press of his thumb against the side of his hand, slow and deliberate. A yes.

—

It shouldn’t have become a thing, but it did. Neil couldn’t stop thinking about the aquarium, the stillness of the tanks, the peace it had brought him. He tried watching documentaries about marine life, but it wasn’t enough. There was something about the aquarium specifically, or maybe the tanks, that had helped Neil breathe easier. 

It started with one tank. It was small and Neil didn’t plan on ever filling it with live fish, but he decorated it, set up the filtration system and filled it with water anyways. 

It settled him slightly, but not enough. Before he knew it, there was a shelf in the dorm with 17 tanks on it. He had wanted 18, but was waiting on the last one to arrive. He knew the others thought it was stupid and he’d heard Kevin complain many times, but Neil didn’t care. 

He already had a system for cleaning the tanks, checking temperatures, refilling the water. It wasn’t necessary with them being unoccupied, but he got used to the routine, liked it; it helped ground him. 

He was going to grow algae; that had been his plan when he’d ordered the first tank. He had looked into it the night he and Andrew got back from the aquarium. He’d searched up strains and ideal lighting setups and water chemistry balance, but life had gotten busy. 

So now the tanks sat, meticulously maintained and full of ... nothing.

Well, not quite nothing.

One had a floating plastic clownfish. Another had a small castle decoration and a shipwreck ornament. A third had  a soft mesh jellyfish toy that bobbed with the current like it's alive. A few of them had tiny rubber octopuses balanced on the filters like they were holding watch. 

Andrew found Neil late one night, cross-legged on the floor in front of one of the tanks, watching the toy fish float in slow, circular drifts.

“There’s nothing alive in there,” Andrew said, leaning against the wall. 

Neil didn’t look away from the tank. “I know.”

“I thought you wanted fish.”

Neil shook his head. “It’s not about the fish. It’s...”

Andrew waited. 

“I liked the quiet,” Neil said eventually. “The water. The movement. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

He shrugged, but he didn’t stop looking, didn’t move at all, really, except to tap the glass once. The little jellyfish bobbed in place, light catching on the plastic tendrils. It wasn’t the same as the aquarium, but it was enough. It had to be. 

Andrew came to sit beside him, just close enough that their knees brushed. They didn’t speak. The tanks hummed around them like they were breathing.

“It’s not stupid,” Andrew finally said, and that helped Neil breathe a little easier, too.

—

The dorm was quieter than usual, the hum of distant voices from other rooms just barely making it past the thick walls. Neil hadn’t noticed how long he’d been pacing, his mind spiraling too fast for him to catch up. His thoughts were a tangle of confusion, tension, and restlessness, and it felt like he couldn’t stop moving, like if he did, he’d just fall apart. 

His eyes drifted to the tanks on the shelf, to the fake fish swimming idly in the water. He reached out, fingers hovering over the glass, but he didn’t touch them. He knew they weren’t the answer to his spiraling, but they were something that helped, even if it was just for a minute, as stupid as it seemed. The soft ripple of water, the swish of plastic fish, was enough to slow him down, enough to make his racing thoughts feel like they were at least contained for a while.

It wasn’t a solution; it never had been, but when the world felt too loud, too sharp, the tanks were something that gave him a small measure of control. The soft clink of the filter, the way the water moved, it was like they almost helped him breathe again. It was the closest he could get to the feeling being at the aquarium had brought him. 

His fingers twitched, and he was about to lose himself in the motion of the tanks again, when Andrew’s presence came sharply into focus.

“You’re pacing,” Andrew’s voice cut through the silence, low but laced with a sharp edge. Neil didn’t turn around. He didn’t even want to look at Andrew right now. It was easier to focus on the tanks.

“I’m fine,” Neil muttered, barely loud enough for Andrew to hear. It was an automatic response, one that made him sound a lot more certain than he felt.

Andrew didn’t buy it, though. He never did.

“You don’t look fine,” Andrew said, stepping closer, his boots making a soft noise on the floor. “You look like you’re about to snap.”

Neil stayed silent, eyes fixed on the tanks to avoid Andrew’s gaze; he didn’t know what would happen if he looked into his hazel eyes. The plastic fish drifted lazily in the current, the water rippling gently. It should’ve been peaceful, but all Neil could feel was the knot in his chest, the restless need to run, to do anything that would make it stop, make everything feel manageable again. 

“You need to stop running,” Andrew said quietly, his words cutting through the hum of the room, the hum of the tanks.

Neil’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he thought about moving away, about really running, but his feet stayed rooted to the floor. He couldn’t move, not really. Not when Andrew was there.

With no warning, Andrew stepped in closer, the space between them collapsing in an instant. 

“Idiot,” Andrew muttered, pushing him back against the wall, the sudden pressure making all 17 tanks rattle, the fake fish swirling in chaotic circles. Neil’s breath hitched, but he didn’t fight it, didn’t push Andrew away. Instead, he found himself leaning into the pressure, into the warmth of Andrew’s body.

For a moment, everything outside of Andrew faded. The tanks, the thoughts, the noise, all of it disappeared, leaving just this, just Andrew. His hand moved to Neil’s chest, steady and warm, grounding him, and Neil felt his racing pulse begin to calm, the storm inside him quieting the longer he stayed there, close to Andrew.

“You’re not fine,” Andrew murmured, his voice still low but softer now, like he was speaking only to Neil, only for him. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Neil’s lips parted, his chest rising and falling with his breath. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain that this wasn’t about running away. It wasn’t about avoiding anything. He just couldn’t keep still—not with everything inside him, not when his mind was pulling him in a million different directions, not with the responsibilities he had now. 

Instead, Neil just looked at Andrew, eyes dark with everything he couldn’t say, knowing Andrew didn’t need the words. His thumb traced over Neil’s jaw, a silent understanding that passed between them in that small, fragile space. 

Andrew leaned in, pausing with his lips inches away from Neil’s, giving him a chance to stop him. When Neil didn’t, Andrew pressed forward, brushing their lips together. It wasn’t a kiss full of words or promises. It was something softer, quieter. Just the feel of Andrew’s mouth against his, grounding him further, keeping him from falling apart.

When Andrew pulled back, his eyes searched Neil’s face, as if he could see through the tension, see all the places Neil was wound too tight. 

“Don’t push me away,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stop running.”

Neil didn’t answer at first. His breath was still shallow, his pulse still a little too fast, but the weight of Andrew’s presence kept him from spiraling. It kept him here, in the moment, where things made a little more sense. Where everything didn’t feel like it was slipping away or was out of his control. 

With a soft exhale, Neil finally nodded, just once. It was enough.

Andrew didn’t push, didn’t ask for more than that. Instead, he just stayed close, his thumb brushing over Neil’s jaw one last time, like a promise that, no matter how tightly wound Neil was, he wouldn’t be alone.

The tanks hummed in the background, the plastic fish drifting, but it was Andrew who kept him grounded. He was the thing Neil needed to keep from unraveling. 

The next day, when Neil got back from class, there was a sealed bag on the counter with a starter culture of green algae and a note in Andrew’s blocky handwriting: Do something with this or I’m unplugging the tanks.

Neil smiled to himself, knowing Andrew didn’t mean it, but also glad to finally have the push he needed. He turned on one of the documentaries he never finished watching and sat on the floor near the tanks. This time, watching was more than enough to immerse him, help him relax. 

By the time Andrew came back, Neil was halfway through his second documentary. He paused it when Andrew joined him on the couch, but Andrew just rolled his eyes and gestured for him to keep watching. 

Neil did, sinking into a peace that he hadn’t felt since that day at the aquarium. 

Later that night, Andrew surprised Neil with membership cards for the aquarium for them both. Instead of thanking him with words, Neil had thanked him with kisses and soft touches. 

Neil kept the tanks, too attached to them by now. He never got around to growing the algae. The culture Andrew bought stayed sealed on the shelf, tucked safely behind one of the filters like it might still be used someday, and maybe it would. 

The tanks didn’t fix anything. They weren’t a cure for the tightness in his chest or the edge in his thoughts, but when he was strung too tight, too restless, they helped. The quiet ripple of filtered water. The shifting reflections. The way the light shined. It helped settle him. Not completely, not the way being at the aquarium with Andrew did, but enough. 

Andrew did the rest.

Between the tanks and Andrew’s steady presence, he could breathe again.