Archive of Our Own

Andrew and Neil had been a couple for 15 years now. They had been married for 7 of them. Even though they were both well into their 30s now, Andrew still felt like he looked at the same 19 year old runaway - no, survivor - he met in Palmetto all those years ago. Crow’s feet adorned the corners of his eyes, deepening when he smiled at Andrew, his features softer, gentler, since the run for his life ended on that fateful night of the championships. But he was still the same man, sassy and with a mouth too quick for his own good, the same man Andrew learned to love more than anything else.

Andrew himself, well, he wouldn’t say he changed too much. He had to admit he got a little softer himself; not just personality-wise. After a couple of years on the US team he stopped playing Exy professionally and took up coaching instead. But with the constant pressure of the right diet and enough exercise gone, but his sweet tooth very much still present, he might have gotten a little softer around the middle as well. He didn’t really mind, though, especially not when Neil pressed his face into his stomach, after a particularly exhausting day of practice, let out a small sigh and a noise that sounded close to those the cats made.

“When will you stop this nonsense?” Andrew asked, burying his fingers in auburn curls and pulling at them gently, eliciting another soft, content sound from Neil.

“What nonsense?” Neil mumbled into the cotton of his shirt and stretched his arms and legs out. He took up almost all of the space on the couch.

“You’re 34 years old, Neil. You’re currently the oldest professional Exy player. It’s time for you to retire.” Neil made a less content sound this time and turned his head enough to look up at Andrew with one eye. “Don’t give me that look. You complain about being sore all the time and you’ve had three injuries in the past year. You know exactly it’s time to pick something else to do.”

Neil, the bastard, bit him in response. Not hard, just a tiny pinch with his teeth into his stomach, but it made Andrew jump and pull at his hair a bit harder in return, and Neil had the audacity to laugh about it, then rolled onto his back and used Andrew’s thighs as a pillow for his head. He grinned up at Andrew as if he just made a brilliant joke. Andrew glared back.

“Maybe,” Neil hummed, “I’ll think about it at the end of the season.”

“You’ve been saying that for three years now,” Andrew said, unimpressed.

“Four,” Neil corrected. Andrew huffed and Neil grinned a bit wider. “I’ll think about it, I promise!”

“Right.” Andrew didn’t really believe him, but soon enough it would be out of Neil’s hands. If his team decided he was too old to play for them, he’d have to retire whether he liked it or not. Until then, Andrew could wait.

“How were the kids today?” Neil asked in an attempt at changing the subject and sat up enough to press a kiss to Andrew’s chin, then let himself fall back onto his lap.

“Shitheads. As always,” Andrew responded and Neil snorted quietly. “Jeremiah thought he could impress the girls by doing a trick he saw one of the Breckenridge players’ do at their game last night. It ended in him twisting his ankle and falling face-first to the floor.”

Neil made a face at the mention of a twisted ankle, he’s had enough of those in his time as a player. Andrew still vividly remembered the last time, when Neil twisted his left ankle during practice and had to see Aaron because the swelling wouldn’t go down. Aaron, who had had to deal with Neil’s injuries for a decade already, had been telling Neil the same thing as Andrew for years now: that he was getting too old and it was time to retire. But they both knew Neil was too stubborn to listen to them.

“Is he alright?” Neil asked. Andrew gave him a one-shouldered shrug.

“It’s a bit swollen but the physician said it should be fine in a couple days. I think the hit to his ego is the worst injury he got out of this.” The comment made Neil laugh, and Andrew pushed the curls from his forehead to see the way the laugh made his eyes gleam better. It was a sentimental gesture, something he wouldn’t have done when he was in his early twenties, but over the years he had learned to let himself have this. To let himself enjoy the life he had, with Neil by his side and his chosen family, and to let others get close to him. It had taken years and years of therapy, but eventually he learned it was okay to be soft and even weak sometimes, because he had people in his life who cared for and supported him.

A loud and offended mewl from the kitchen captured both of their attention and Neil threw a glance at the clock.

“Oh, no, it’s already two minutes past six and we didn’t feed King yet. We’re horrible people. How is this poor thing supposed to survive like this?” Neil said sarcastically before pushing himself up with a small grunt. King made another impatient sound.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” Neil called. The cats were rather old now, and age had made them, especially King Fluffkins, more impatient than ever. Before Neil made it to the kitchen King had screamed for food again and Andrew heard Neil argue with him in the kitchen.

The rest of their night consisted of a quick dinner, some TV and an early night. Neil, exhausted from practice, fell asleep while Andrew was still reading his book, one arm thrown over Andrew’s hips and his face buried in his pillow. Sir and King were curled up at the end of the bed, but their ears merely twitched when Andrew put his book aside and went to sleep as well.

***

Andrew frowned as he watched his team run laps on the court.

“Hey, Johnson, come here,” he called for the team captain when he ran past him. Blake Johnson was a tall, lean, 17-year old boy with dark skin and a talent for Exy Andrew hadn’t seen since he met Kevin and Neil. If he worked for it, Andrew knew he could make a career in pro Exy and even make the US court in the future. Once Blake became a Senior, he’d have to talk to him about his college options. Maybe he’d even give Jeremy Knox a ring - he was the Trojan’s Coach now, and Andrew was sure Blake would fit in there just fine.

“What is it, Coach?” Blake asked.

“Where is D?”

D was 16 year old Delilah Brown. She was one of their starting strikers and oftentimes reminded Andrew of Allison. She was catty, she was pretty, she was ambitious and she was a ruthless player who would take no shit from anyone. He had seen backliners laugh in her face for being small and slender, but choke on their laughs ten minutes later when she’d take them down and score a goal. She always made sure everyone knew she wanted to go into pro Exy.

She had also not been at practice for the past three weeks.

“I uh don’t know, Coach. Sorry.” Blake shrugged. He also lied.

Andrew spent a good part of his life around liars. He had been one himself for most of that part. He saw through Neil’s contact lenses back in his first days at Palmetto, and he saw through Blake’s lie even quicker. Teenagers usually weren’t particularly good liars.

“Has she been to class today?”

“I don’t know, she’s not in my year. I haven’t seen her in the hallway, though.”

Andrew eyed Blake warily and it took only a couple of seconds for Blake to start squirming under his Coach’s gaze. But he didn’t break his silence.

Andrew sent him back to the others with a wave of his hand. Relieved Blake turned on his heel and sprinted back to his team, falling back in with them and running his laps. Andrew decided he’d give D a call when he was home.

If he ever made it home, that is. Annoyed, Andrew let his head fall against the headrest of his car seat. He was stuck in traffic on his way back home that night. Usually traffic wasn’t that bad at this time, but today he was stuck on the bridge he had to cross every day. From here it was only four minutes to his and Neil’s house, but they hadn’t been moving for what must have been ten minutes now. Andrew had already turned off the engine of his car.

Fingers tapping impatiently on his steering wheel he managed to endure another two minutes before he ripped the keys from the ignition and left his car to check what was causing the delay. About five cars ahead of him, Andrew spotted a cluster of people. He’d suspect a car crash, if it wasn’t for the fact that the people weren’t standing on the road, but the sidewalk, forming a big semicircle next to the railing.

“What the fuck is going on there?” They better had a good reason to be standing there. Andrew wanted to get home. There was a tub of chocolate ice cream waiting for him in the freezer.

He made his way over, and the closer he got, the more he could hear the agitated, almost hysterical wave of voices talking over each other. It was impossible to make out what each of them was saying, but Andrew caught stray words like not worth it or climb back or don’t jump. That’s when he spotted the police cars.

Andrew’s stomach turned and he considered going back to his car. He knew what was happening. He didn’t want to be one of the bystanders satisfying their sensation-seeking cravings. But something made him get closer still. Maybe it was the memory of when he was at this point. He had never been standing on the railing of a bridge, about to throw himself off it. But he had considered it many times in his life. And all he had wished for back then was someone to reach out to him, to show him he was worth something. That someone had come late in his life, but now he was still there and he’d never leave - and Andrew’s life had turned for the better.

Andrew squeezed through the bodies that were held back by police officers. He spotted two of them in the middle, talking calmly but visibly desperate. He let his gaze roam further to the edge of the bridge. And suddenly his heart skipped a beat.

Blood red nails on the tips of fingers clinging desperately to the railing from the other side, slim legs in shorts shaking, a body that didn’t want to die, attached to a soul that really did. Long, ginger hair flew in the wind, whipping the young girl’s face, her mascara running down her tear-wet cheeks and her jaw clenched, gritted teeth visible through lips whose color matched her nails. She shook her head and took a deep, shuddering breath before yelling at the officers to leave her alone. The officers took two steps back, just to jerk back forwards when she let her body lean further back over the edge, though her fingers were still desperately trying to hold onto the rail.

“Go away!” She screamed, “I don’t want your pity, I don’t want your meaningless words, what would it be to any of you if I jumped now? You don’t even know me, you wouldn’t care, it wouldn’t fucking change anything in your fucking lives!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Andrew pushed the police officer to the side and stormed past him. Two of the officers grabbed Andrew and tried to pull him back, but they stopped when the girl whimpered: “Coach Minyard?”

“Let go off me,” Andrew grunted and ripped his arms from the officers’ grips, “D, get your ass back over the fucking railing right now.”

“No!” D yelled at him, too, now. The first shock of seeing her coach wore off quickly, and she was back to being hysterical. “What’s it to you? Just go away!”

“Do you really think I’ll just go away?” Andrew walked towards her slowly, carefully but determined. “Do you think if you jump off this bridge, it would mean nothing to the team? Do you think Blake and Jen and Chloe and all the others would just shrug it off and go on with their lives?”

D looked at him silently. Her whole body shook from the effort of holding herself up, from exhaustion and from crying. Andrew reached the level of the two officers who had been talking to D. He stopped there.

“Do you think it would mean nothing to me?”

D sobbed and started to shake even more. So much, that Andrew was concerned she might fall off by accident.

“But–” She stammered between sobs, “But what- what would being alive mean to me?” D sank down and both Andrew and the police officers took an alarmed step forwards until they realized she was crouching down, but still holding on. She let her head sink between her shoulders and Andrew could barely make her next words out.

“Why- why should I stay alive?” Cautious, Andrew took another couple steps until he reached the railing. He crouched down in front of her.

“Hey, D,” he said. D didn’t look up.

“It won’t stop. It won’t get better. It’s just not worth staying alive. It’s so hard and it always just gets harder. I don’t wanna do this anymore, Coach.” D’s voice was so quiet, Andrew was sure no one except him could hear her. Her words hurt. They hurt so much because he didn’t want D to hurt like she did, and they hurt because Andrew still remembered feeling them in his own chest.

“But it will,” he said, “It will get better, D.”

D stayed silent and Andrew almost thought he calmed her down, until she suddenly looked at him, her face an angry grimace.

“How would you know?!” She spat at him, “How would you know if it gets better?! You don’t even know what I’ve been through! You don’t know what it’s like to feel like this!”

“Don’t I?” Andrew pulled the sleeves of his turtleneck shirt up to his elbows, “Are you sure? Take a close look.” He pushed both his arms forwards, right in D’s face. She was confused, then annoyed.
“You think this is the time to show me your fucking tattoos?”

“Look at them, D.” Andrew kept holding his arms out for her. D didn’t seem convinced. She looked at the tattoos on them, followed the lines and curves that wound their way from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders with her eyes, but she didn’t really look.

“Look at my arms, Delilah.”

“I am and I don’t see your fucking point!”

“You’re looking at my tattoos.”

“What’s the fucking dif-”

D stopped, her lips still parted in an aborted word. Andrew could pinpoint the second she realised what he was showing her.

She let go of the railing with one hand and curled her slender fingers around one of his wrists. Her thumb lightly touched the inside of it, grazing over the first scar on his arm. It was only faintly visible under the tattoos, just like all of the other scars there, but it was still noticeable under her touch. Her fingers brushed along his underarm, feeling the bumps of his past, perpetuated in his skin.

“I know how you feel, D,” Andrew said after a while, his voice quiet, “I thought it wasn’t worth staying alive so many times, I lost count. But then someone promised me to find something worth living for - and even though I didn’t believe him, I took his promise. And then he did find something. It wasn’t what he had in mind, but he found it for me nevertheless. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, because it won’t, but if you make it to the point where you find what keeps you alive, you’ll realize it was worth it.”

D stared at his arms, felt his scars a bit longer, and Andrew let her. It had been years since he last showed them to someone, before he had them covered by tattoos. They were a reminder of the darkest parts of his life, but they were a part of him and proof that he fought nail and tooth to get what he had now.

“Will it really? Get better, I mean?” D’s voice was shaking and Andrew could hear she was fighting tears back.

“If you let it,” Andrew answered. D looked up. The tears had won the fight. She looked at him, then grabbed his wrist firmly.

“Help me.”

Andrew stood and took D’s hands. He helped her climb over the railing, her legs weak and shaky, and let her stumble into his arms. He held her as she cried against his chest and let her cling to his back. He didn’t hear the cheers around them, he only heard D’s sobs and her soft pleas for help.

***

It was already past 10pm when Andrew unlocked the door to his home. He threw the door shut and discarded his coat and shoes in a corner. Putting them in their places would require too much energy that he hadn’t left.

Andrew leaned against the door, closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. It was silent in the house, but he knew Neil was still awake since the lights were on. Andrew tried counting to ten in his head, to give his mind the opportunity to sort his thoughts. He made it to seven before he was interrupted.

“Andrew?” Neil’s voice coming from the living room was quiet, concerned. Andrew was late, very late, without giving him a heads-up - of course he’d be worried.

Neil gave him another minute before he stuck his head out of the living room door. When he spotted Andrew, still braced against the door, his expression turned even more concerned. Andrew wanted to put his thumb between Neil’s eyebrows and brush the worry away. It had been a while since he had looked at him this way. But Neil - stupid, wonderful Neil - still knew not to crush Andrew with his concern. He made two steps towards him, then stopped and tilted his head ever so slightly. His lips worked around unspoken words, pondering whether he should say them or not, trying to figure out what might have gotten Andrew in a mood like this. Andrew let him and stayed exactly where he was.

Their silence lasted for a full five minutes but neither of them seemed to mind. Andrew needed the time to collect himself and he appreciated having Neil in the room with him. Neil, as always, was happy to wait for Andrew to offer him a cue.

“Delilah tried to kill herself today.”

Neil twitched, but stayed where he was. It was visible how hard it was for him not to go over to where Andrew was, but he just looked at him, prompting him to talk about it with his eyes alone. And Andrew did. He told Neil about what happened on that bridge, about the trip to the police station, how he waited for her to come back out of that room where she was questioned, and about how she begged him not to send her home. But there was nothing he could do. She was a minor, so they took her home despite her pleas.

“Oh, Andrew…” Neil’s concern made room for sympathy. He opened his arms in invitation. Andrew stayed still, looked at Neil, then pushed away from the door and made his way over with slow, tired steps. Neil’s tight embrace took a lot of weight off Andrew’s shoulders. He let Neil hold him, let him kiss his hair.

That night, Andrew didn’t sleep well. He tossed and turned but could barely fall asleep, and when he did, he dreamed of D on that bridge or of her begs not to send her home.

At 3am, Andrew sat in their garden, a cigarette dangling from between his lips and staring into the night. He didn’t turn when he heard feet shuffling across the floor behind him and only glanced at Neil when he wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind.

“Can’t sleep?” He mumbled into Andrew’s neck and buried his nose against his skin. Andrew made an affirming sound before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“I need to do something about D,” Andrew said. Neil hummed softly.

“And what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” it was frustrating, but true. Andrew didn’t even know what it was that had D so desperate, but he had to find out and then do something about it. He couldn’t just watch while she sank deeper and deeper into depression until maybe one day he wouldn’t be there to help her back over the railing again. He couldn’t let her go through the same he had.

Neil yawned loudly, mumbled an apology and fell into the seat next to Andrew. Immediately he pulled his naked feet up on the seat with him and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“She seems to trust you. Maybe she’ll tell you what she needs and wants. Or why she didn’t want to go home.”

“Maybe,” Andrew agreed. Hopefully.

***

D missed school that week, but she was back the week after. Back to school and back to practice, but she didn’t tell him anything. In fact, she seemed to avoid him as much as it was possible to avoid your Coach.

Andrew could tell the team knew about what happened by the way they behaved around her. They flocked around her as if they wanted to make sure she was still there, and when he saw her outside of practice there was always one of her team members with her. Andrew was glad to see she had people who cared for her. But it didn’t change the fact that she looked more and more miserable with each passing day.

When he took Blake aside one day to ask him about her, he admitted the team had known about her mental state, or so they thought. They hadn’t known it was as bad as it was.

Blake told him that she never really got over the death of her dad when she was 12 years old, but her mom did her best to support and help her. And then, last year, she died as well. Ever since then, D’s mental health deteriorated. Blake couldn’t tell him much more, except that D was living with her little half-brother and her stepfather.

It wasn’t until a week later, that D lingered behind after practice. Andrew tidied everything that was left and when he left the building to go home, she was loitering around the parking lot. When she noticed Andrew looking at her, she fought a very visible inner debate before making up her mind and walking towards him.

“D,” Andrew said in lieu of a greeting.

“Coach Minyard,” she answered. There were no more words lost between them. Andrew wanted to give her the opportunity to talk, but with each passing second the feeling she wouldn’t say anything sank deeper.

“Do you like Curry?” Andrew asked eventually. D looked puzzled, but nodded. “Good. My partner is making some for dinner, you wanna come?” If she looked puzzled before, D now looked completely lost - but Andrew didn’t miss the glint of relief in her expression. She nodded again.

For the whole ride back, D wouldn’t stop staring around the interior of his Maserati - not the same one he owned back at PSU, of course - and pressing and turning every button and knob she could find until Andrew pushed her hand away.

“How can a highschool coach afford a car like this?” She asked, curious eyes darting towards him. Andrew huffed and gave her a one-shouldered shrug.

“It was a gift.”

“A gift? Who the fuck just gifts someone a fucking Maserati?”

“My partner has a well-paying job and an annoying habit of never spending any money.” A “well-paying” job was probably the biggest understatement that had ever left Andrew’s lips, considering Neil was one of the most successful professional Exy players and still part of the US Team. But he did have an annoying habit of never spending his money - well, except on Andrew. If Andrew wouldn’t throw out his old, worn-out clothes he’d probably wear them until they’d completely fall apart. Old habits die hard, as they said.

“Damn, need me a freak like that,” D said in amazement.

She had another little freak-out about the size of their house when he parked his car in front of the garage which Andrew just rolled his eyes about, then ushered her inside.

“I’m home,” he shouted into the hallway as him and D were kicking their shoes off and was answered by noises from the kitchen. A couple of seconds later, Neil sticked his head out of the room.

“Hello,” he greeted. Andrew had shot him a text about D joining them for dinner, so he wasn’t surprised to see her next to him. “You must be Delilah, nice to meet you. I’m Neil.”

Andrew had never exactly made it a secret that he was married to a man, but then again he had never felt the need to talk to his team about his private life. They had known he was married, of course, after all he was wearing a very telling ring on his finger, but they never asked any questions about it, so Andrew had never told them anything. It was, however, still somewhat of a secret that Neil wasn’t straight. At least until he retired from professional Exy.

Maybe he should have given D a warning, because Andrew feared she was having an aneurysm at the moment. She stared at Neil with big eyes, then at Andrew and back at Neil.

“You’re Neil Josten,” she stammered eventually.

“Yes.” Neil replied.

“The famous Exy player Neil Josten.”

“Yes.

“And you’re Coach’s- what, boyfriend?”

“Husband, actually.”

“What the fuck?” That last question was directed at Andrew again, who by now had taken off his coat and looked at D with a bored expression.

“He may be good at stickball, but he’s a horrible cook. Curry is the only thing he can do without setting the kitchen on fire,” that was not the answer D wanted, but it was the one she got.

“Fuck you, Andrew,” Neil shot back, unimpressed.

“Shut up,” Andrew answered.

D looked to and fro between Andrew and Neil during their short exchange, her mouth hanging open and her eyes still wide.

“I can’t believe you never said a word about how you’re married to a literal Exy legend,” she said, shaking her head. Neil, obviously satisfied with the title ‘literal Exy legend’, grinned at her.

“How about we discuss that at the table? The Curry’s almost done, but the table needs to be set. I’ll leave that to you two,” and with that, Neil was back in the kitchen.

Andrew and D did their part and set the table. Since D didn’t know where anything was in their house, Andrew grabbed the plates and cutlery from their respective shelves and handed them to D, who then placed them on the dinner table while Neil was busy with their food. As Neil lifted the pot off the stove and carried it over to the table, Andrew stopped him on his way to receive a quick welcome-home-kiss. He felt D’s eyes burn a hole into his head as he did so, but when he turned she was already pointedly staring at the fork she was unnecessarily rearranging.

Over dinner, they told D about how Neil’s sexuality was supposed to be not public while he was an active player, how they met (well, at least the parts that didn’t involve the mafia and murder) and how the whole Minyard-Josten-rivalry-thing back in the days was one of the funniest things they had ever witnessed. Later, D lay on their living room floor for a full hour to cuddle with Sir and King. The cats greatly enjoyed the attention, of course. It was the most relaxed, the most of her old self, Andrew had seen D in weeks. Eventually they ended up watching TV, Andrew and Neil on the sofa, D on the floor again, sitting cross-legged this time, dividing her attention between the TV and the cats she was playing with.

Neil slowly but surely shifted closer towards Andrew until he was full-on leaning against his side, head resting on Andrew’s shoulder and eyes drooping suspiciously. Andrew didn’t say anything and just placed his hand on Neil’s thigh. Neil sighed quietly, then yawned. Andrew gave him another five minutes before he’d just nod off. But two minutes later, Neil sat up and stretched his tired muscles.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “I have to go to sleep.” Both Andrew and D watched as Neil got off his seat and leaned down to give Andrew a kiss, then he smiled at her.

“It was nice to finally meet one of Andrew’s kids. You’re welcome to join us for dinner again any time.”

“Thanks,” D said, looking up at Neil from her place on the carpet, “It was super cool to meet you, too. Like, honestly, I never thought I’d meet a famous Exy player before I become one myself!”

Amusement spread on Neil’s features at that and he grinned at her. Andrew could tell Neil liked D. He wasn’t surprised.

“Keep that attitude up and you’ll be one in no time.”

Neil wished both of them a good night and left the living room. Only then did Andrew look at the watch and realize how late it really already was.

“Shit, it’s so late already? I’ll better get you home.”  Suddenly D’s mood changed and she looked at Andrew from pleading eyes. Andrew’s heart clenched when she started to beg him not to take her home. Again.

“Can’t I stay here for the night?” She asked.

“Absolutely not,” Andrew said and shook his head, “You’re a teenage girl, D, and I am your adult, male Coach. I’m getting in enough trouble as it is if anyone hears of this. I’m taking you home.” Despite her clear reluctance, D got in his car and let him take her home. When he was sure she was safely inside the house, Andrew made his way back home and joined an already half-asleep Neil in bed.

***

After that night, D actually joined them for dinner more and more. She’d wait up for Andrew after practice and he’d know that she needed somewhere safe to go, somewhere where she would be cared for, and without hesitation he’d text Neil about their guest and sit her in his car. Sometimes she’d help them with dinner, other times it would already be done by the time they arrived at the Josten-Minyard household. When D started to set the table without thinking twice about where the plates were for the first time, Andrew wondered how all of this happened. But then D laughed about something Neil said and Neil grinned back at her, and Andrew didn’t care anymore.

It all seemed fine. D seemed to do better. Until suddenly she didn’t and she spent the evenings of a full week at Andrew and Neil’s house. On saturday afternoon his phone rang and she asked to be with them that night, too. Neil had thrown him a worried glance before taking the car keys and driving to the shop to get groceries for dinner.

D asked Andrew to pick her up at the train station instead of her home and Andrew asked no questions about it. She didn’t speak a single word during the ride and just stared out the window. At every red light Andrew turned his head to look at her, but she either didn’t notice him staring or chose to ignore him.

It was a very quiet dinner that night. Neil and Andrew were equally uncomfortable, whereas D just blankly stared at the food on her plate, occasionally picking some up to push it in her mouth. There was nothing of her usual self and it unsettled both adults.

“Do you want some more mashed potato, D?” The question was innocent enough, but instead of giving him an answer, D just looked up at Neil and suddenly burst into tears. Startled, Andrew looked at her, then at Neil, but he was just as surprised as him. Neil looked at him urgently, waiting for Andrew to do something, but Andrew just shook his head in confusion. What was he supposed to do about a crying teenage girl at his dinner table - especially when he didn’t even know what she was crying about?

“Hey, hey, D,” Neil put the bowl of potatoes aside and reached over the table for her, his hand hovering just over her shaking one, not touching yet - he was behaving like he used to around Andrew a decade ago. “What’s wrong? Can you tell us?” D shook her head and sobbed, then grabbed Neil’s hand and squeezed it tight. Andrew watched as her other hand reached for Neil’s as well, and her fingers felt the scars and burns on his skin. Neil let her.

“I–” More sobs ripped through her and shook her whole body that suddenly looked so small and fragile, “Please don’t send me home again. Please.” Neil looked at Andrew. Andrew looked back at him and swallowed hard. This time Neil wasn’t looking at Andrew, expecting him to talk. This time Neil was checking on him. His eyes wandered over Andrew’s face, darted down as Andrew curled his hand on the table into a fist, then back up at his face. Andrew still didn’t particularly like the word please. Usually it was fine these days. Sometimes, on bad days, Neil would ask something of him and say please and it would send a rush of anxiety through his body, but usually Andrew was fine. Really.

But the way D just said the word… It made Andrew remember all the times he had said it in the exact same way. His chest tightened, he clenched his teeth and stared at Neil, grounding himself in those ice blue eyes. What made this girl say please like this? What haunted her that made her so desperate?

“Delilah,” Neil said her name softly and only slowly peeled his eyes off Andrew to look back at her instead, “Can you tell us why you don’t want to go home?”

“Jeff,” she sobbed, “My– My stepfather. He– He-”

“What about him?” Neil squeezed her hand gently and leaned over the table ever so slightly. D’s voice shook as she spoke, but the sobs were slowly ebbing down.

“He- He was always k-kinda mean. But since Mom d-died he’s– he- he’s such an asshole. He always m-makes me do the all the housework an-and I have to take care of my little b-brother because Jeff is at work all day.” There was a short pause where D took a couple frantic breaths and wiped the tears from her eyes. Her hand left black mascara stains on her cheek and new tears followed immediately.

“A-and then,” D faltered. Her skin turned paler and she looked like she might throw up any moment. “Three months ago, just after my birthday, he- he-……he said I look just like my Mom and……and….”

No more words were necessary to make Neil and Andrew understand what she had been through. Andrew felt sick. Neil went as white as a sheet. Before D could force herself to say the unspeakable out loud, Andrew got off his seat. The chair’s feet scratched along the floor loudly and the other two jumped in their seats.

“Andrew-” Neil started, but Andrew didn’t let him finish.

“We’re calling the police.”

They did. The police brought a shrink with them. She reminded Andrew a lot of Bee, with her soft, round face and plain clothes.

After that, it felt like someone pressed the fast-forward button of the universe. Everything felt rushed and too quick. D and her brother were both taken away from their home and into a shelter. The police questioned D, her friends, her family and even Andrew and Neil. They went to court. D’s stepfather denied everything, but they were able to gather enough evidence and reliable testimonies to convict him.

D’s step-aunt took her little brother in and offered D a home as well, but D denied. When asked about it, she told Andrew it wasn’t because she didn’t like her, but she knew her aunt could barely support herself. She was glad her brother could grow up with her, though.

“Everything is better than living with Jeff,” she had said.

“The chances of her being taken into foster care or even adopted are low,” the social worker had said, “It’s hard to find a new home for teenagers, especially with a backstory like hers.” Oh, as if Andrew didn’t know about that.

D still came to school. She seemed to do better quickly, too. But Andrew couldn’t help it - his own memories of being in the foster system, of living in shelters, of changing homes and abusive foster families didn’t let him sleep at night. The thought that D might go through the same had him go through their freezer every night at 2am and eat a tub of ice cream.

Neil silently bought more ice cream and sometimes joined him in their living room. Until one night he stopped being silent.

“You know, we could take her in,” he said casually, stealing a spoonful of cookie-dough flavoured ice cream from Andrew. Andrew stared at Neil. Neil noticed his gaze and looked up just as he was about to dig his spoon into the tub again, raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side.

“What? We could. It’s not like she didn’t already spend most of her evenings here.”

“Are you insane?”

“Why? I know it kills you to know she’s in that shelter. It would help her and you.”

“You want to be a foster parent.”

“Well,” Neil shrugged and vaguely gestured with the spoon, “It’s not like she’s a child. She’s a teenager. So we don’t have to change dirty diapers or– Andrew? Hey, Andrew, wait, where are you going?”

A sickening feeling spread in Andrew’s chest and he felt like he was suffocating. Without waiting for Neil, who was scrambling off the couch to follow him, Andrew went outside, into their garden, and fished for his cigarettes. The pack slipped from his shaking hands and would have hit the ground, if Neil hadn’t caught it mid-air.

“Andrew?” Neil asked, voice soft, as he handed them back to him. Andrew lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “What’s wrong?”

An unpleasant silence lay over them like a heavy blanket as Andrew stared into the night. Eventually he shook his head and flicked the ash off his cigarette.

“How do you expect me to do this?”

“What?”

“Care for a child.” Careful fingers curled around Andrew’s wrist. Andrew still didn’t look at Neil.

“How am I supposed to support her the way she needs? Do you not remember how I dealt with my own past?”

“I do remember,” Neil said quietly. He took a step closer to Andrew. Andrew could feel his warm breath on his chilling skin. “But you had no one to turn to. And by the time you came across people who were willing to offer you that support you needed, the damage had been done and you closed yourself off. It doesn’t have to be like that for her.” But was he really the one who could help D not to end like he did himself? All of this, it felt like it just hit too close to home for Andrew to be able to deal with it.

Yes, he got better with showing how he felt and letting people in. But was it enough to give an abused teenage girl the home and support she needed?

“Besides, she’s 16,” Neil continued quietly, “She’s not a little child anymore. She has only two years of highschool left before it’s time for her to go off to college. We have the funds to send her there, and maybe we could even call Dan when the time comes, and see if she can join the Foxes. She trusts you, Andrew, and you earned that trust. And we can help her achieve what she wants most in life.” Andrew closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Deep inside he knew Neil was right. The feeling in his chest ebbed down to an uncomfortable pressure.

“What about your career?” He asked. Neil blinked at him in surprise.

“My career? What about it?”

“Do you think people will not hear about it when you take in a troubled teenager? They will find out you’re married to me, that you’re not straight. It will kill your career.” Andrew expected anything but the calm smile that spread on Neil’s lips.

“Andrew, I’m 34 years old. Don’t you think it’s time for me to retire?” He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm and smugness. Andrew wanted to punch him. Neil couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the expression on Andrew’s face.

“I talked to Coach a while ago. He offered me a position as his co-coach next season. I agreed on the condition that I could finally stop keeping our relationship a secret. Let the press find out. I’ll personally write them a letter to let them know I’m married to the man I love if that is what it takes.”

“Wait. You did what? When exactly did you plan on telling me about this?” Andrew couldn’t believe what he heard. Neil would stop playing Exy by the end of the season? And he didn’t even tell Andrew about it?

“I was waiting for a quiet moment, but there wasn’t really one these past few weeks,” Neil said apologetically, “So I guess this moment is as good as any.”

A few seconds passed where Andrew just stared at Neil and Neil looked back at him silently. There were a lot of ways Andrew could’ve imagined his night to go, but this was absolutely not one of them.

“So let me get this straight…” Andrew eventually said slowly, “You’re going to stop playing Exy by the end of the season and become a co-coach instead. And you want to take in a teenage girl from the highschool Exy team that I coach and raise her in this house.”

Neil nodded. Then shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean I’ll probably still play Exy, but not for money.”

“Not the point, Neil.”

“Okay. Sorry. Yes. I’ll stop playing Exy, I’ll be a coach next season and I want to take your student in to get her out of the foster system.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but you’ve known that for 15 years now.”

***

They were both insane. Both of them. Completely and utterly mad. That’s what Andrew thought when, a couple weeks later, he spent his friday evening putting together an IKEA wardrobe in their guest room that was now no longer a guest room.

There had been more discussions and more planning after that night, and it wasn’t until three weeks later, that Andrew and Neil decided that, yes, they would make room in their home for D. Of course they couldn’t decide that by themselves. They asked her over dinner shortly after, explained that they wanted to help her achieve what she wanted from her life and to give her something to call home, even if it was the house her coach and his husband lived in. She was confused and surprised but it didn’t take her nearly as long as Andrew to agree. She seemed happy about their offer and her smile made Andrew feel warm and pleased. Maybe Neil was right. Maybe giving one child a chance to get out of the foster system and into a caring home wouldn’t just be good for this child, but also for them.

A couple visits from social workers and a court date later it was decided that D would move in with Neil and Andrew. Which was the reason why Andrew was busy screwing wooden boards over wooden boards together, cursing under his breath and, at least twice, thinking about giving up on it and just buying an already assembled wardrobe.

Neil gave him a quick kiss when the thing was finally finished.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Neil announced while eyeing the new furniture, “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” Andrew responded.

Neil curled his arms around Andrew’s shoulders in a loose embrace and pressed a long kiss to his temple, making Andrew grunt and push him away playfully. Neil laughed and held onto Andrew even tighter.

“And how about after dinner, we go to the bedroom and enjoy our last night in peace, without a teenager sneaking through the halls?” Neil added with a smug grin. Slowly, Andrew raised one eyebrow and looked at Neil. That did sound good… But why wait?

Andrew wrapped his arms around Neil’s middle and lifted him off the ground without so much as a warning, and Neil yelped.

“Andrew, what are you doing?!” He asked, laughing.

“Why wait until after dinner?” Andrew said and started to make his way to the bedroom with a squirming Neil in his arms.

“Why? Because dinner will burn! Andrew!!” Neil laughed and hit Andrew’s shoulders, but the way he wrapped his legs around Andrew’s hips at the same time betrayed him.

They had pizza for dinner that night, since Neil’s cooking was helplessly burned once he rushed to the kitchen, hair tousled and nothing on but Andrew’s shirt, buttoned up the wrong way. But it was okay because the day after, they had a home-cooked dinner again and this time it wasn’t burned, and it was accompanied by D’s laughter.