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It was only because Neil recognized the cadence of the footsteps downstairs that his pounding heart calmed. He untangled his legs from the blankets, but didn’t rise from the bed. He listened as Andrew locked the front door, the pounding in his head and the sickness swirling in his stomach indicating he only managed about an hour of sleep. Vague images clung to the backs of Neil’s eyelids, a nightmare that slipped from his waking mind. Something Andrew had saved him from before he was even in the room.
Andrew wasn’t supposed to be back in South Carolina for another two weeks, obligated to spend time training with his team between games. Neil himself should’ve been on campus, ready for practice in the morning. Instead, Coach took one look at him yesterday afternoon and sent him away with orders to get some sleep. To give his vice captain a chance to practice for the real thing once Neil graduated in a few short months.
Neil couldn’t get any sleep at the dorms, but his and Andrew’s bed in Columbia called to him. Neil made the trip and collapsed into it, his mind wandering to the countless firsts they shared there rather than the onslaught of memories March brought.
Neil had survived three Marches since the riot, since his father’s people had delivered him to the basement in Baltimore. His fourth March should’ve been no different.
Except there was one thing Neil hadn’t accounted for: Andrew wasn’t there.
Neil was in his final year, Andrew was playing on a professional team states away, and Neil had never realized exactly how much he leaned on him in times like this. How the shared cigarettes steadied his hands, how Andrew’s palm on the back of his neck halted the crawling beneath his skin.
Objectively, he knew Andrew helped, but it was also something Neil should’ve been able to do on his own. It wasn’t something he wanted to burden Andrew with, something that pulled him away from his responsibilities because Neil couldn’t manage to get through just a few fucking days without nearly falling apart.
And now Andrew was standing in the doorway of their bedroom in Columbia, the light from the hall flooding into the room and illuminating Neil in all his disgrace. The sweaty skin, the greasy hair, the circles under his eyes, the t-shirt Neil had bundled under his head.
Neil had found it wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe, undoubtedly tossed aside carelessly on a good day that involved lots of kissing and touching. It smelled a bit like old sweat, but Andrew’s scent also clung to it, and Neil was far beyond denying himself such a simple comfort.
Andrew kicked the bedroom door closed, and Neil listened to his footsteps as he approached in the dark. There was a click as Andrew tugged the chain of the small lamp on the nightstand. Andrew always hated how bright the overhead light was.
Andrew gestured to Neil’s entirety. “This is not fine.” He snagged the shirt from under Neil’s head, wrinkling his nose before tossing it aside.
Andrew had called him just two days earlier. They’d talked as they always did, exchanging stories and sometimes just sitting in silence, knowing the other was there and listening. Except this time Andrew had explicitly asked how Neil was holding up, and Neil had said he was fine.
“I meant what I said.” Neil mourned the loss of the shirt, but tucked his face closer to the pillow, where some of the smell had transferred.
Andrew’s jaw tensed. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”
“I’m not.”
“Then you’re lying to yourself.” Something settled in Andrew’s gaze as he examined Neil, the tension in his shoulders easing. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’d make you bear this on your own.”
Andrew emptied his pockets on the nightstand, and Neil felt something loosen in him as well. As Andrew peeled off his jeans, Neil scooched over to make enough room on the bed.
“There were no games scheduled, so I got cleared for this time off weeks ago,” Andrew said as he slipped under the covers.
The relief Neil felt from his proximity didn’t lessen the weight of his glare. “And you’re telling me this now?”
“You should’ve known I’d be here for your yearly mental breakdown. At least you keep a consistent schedule. I was curious whether you’d be honest with me, but now I have to ask: Was it a lack of self-awareness or sheer bullheaded stubbornness that kept you from telling the truth?” Andrew was close enough Neil could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I didn’t believe you then, and your current appearance only validates that assessment. If I asked again what would your answer be now?”
Neil ignored his first impulse, which was to say he was fine. Not only was it the answer Andrew didn’t want, but it certainly wasn’t true. Frustratingly, everything Andrew said was right. The way Andrew could peel back his layers and see what was underneath used to be unsettling, but nowadays Neil found it reassuring. Even if it pissed him off. Even if Andrew told him things he didn’t want to hear.
“That I can’t sleep,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “That he’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes, and that I wish you were here.”
“That’s better,” Andrew said. “Certainly more believable.”
Andrew reached for Neil, settling his arm over his waist and tugging him closer. Neil sagged into the contact, shuddering with relief as he tucked his head under Andrew’s.
Neil breathed him in. “I should be able to bear this on my own.”
“You don’t have to. I’d rather be here when you don’t need me than be away when you do.” Andrew tightened his arm, tangling Neil’s legs with his.
Neil had been holding himself together by threads for the past few days. In Andrew’s arms, he was safe enough to let himself fall apart. His chest was tight, and he gradually lost the steady breaths he forcibly maintained.
Andrew held him through it, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on Neil’s spine. It was something Neil could focus on, something he could latch onto to draw himself back into his own body. Exhaustion crashed into him as soon as he did, but not before he made Andrew a promise.
“I’ll do better next time.”
“I know.”