Archive of Our Own

With the first season game looming ahead, regular practices under Wymack and Dan seem to intensify while night training with Kevin suddenly becomes brutal. Neil’s relative inexperience on the court compared to all of the other Foxes mean that he has to work more than twice as hard to keep up, pushing his body to its limits and all the while wondering if he should have run that day in Millport.

Lately, Neil finds himself regretting his decision to join the Palmetto State Foxes a lot. This is hardly new. He regretted signing on his first day, when Kevin recognised him, on his second day, when he met his asshole teammates, on his third day, when he discovered just how completely outclassed he was, and all the way up to a month from then, to where Neil currently is; standing in Reddin Medical Center and so incredibly sore he’s surprised he was able to walk down the hallway.

Neil’s phone – which is yet another of his many regrets – buzzes in his pocket. He still isn’t sure how his teammates managed to convince him to get one, and the text from Dan does’t help explain things. As usual, her spelling is horrible.

txt me if he tries nething bad i’ll kik his ass, the text says, doing nothing to settle his nerves.

Neil isn’t sure if all of the Foxes’ comments are an exaggeration, or if Andrew Minyard really is that bad. His two roommates had differing reactions; Matt had looked way too concerned while Seth – the team’s biggest asshole – only slapped him on the back, muttering “good luck with the monster”. When she found out about his appointment, Dan had fumed at both Kevin and Wymack. Even Aaron, the team’s second resident asshole and Andrew’s twin brother, had nothing good to say.

Neil sighs and knocks on the door to Andrew – Dobson’s interning massage therapist –’s office. He thinks about every single dumb mistake he’s made that led him here – failing his mother in Seattle, playing Exy in Millport, saying yes to Wymack when he came for him, overworking himself in practices – and wonders when he’ll finally smarten up and go. Signing onto the Foxes and drawing attention is dangerous, going against everything his mother had taught him, but a selfish part of Neil can’t stop wanting to play. He knows he will probably die this year, something that Kevin had agreed with as soon as he recognised him through the fake contacts and hair dye.

The abrupt opening of the door breaks Neil from his thoughts. An immature thrill of delight goes through him when he realizes that like Aaron, Andrew is actually shorter than him. In fact, Andrew looks like Aaron in almost every way, from the light blond hair (which is, however, styled differently), pale skin, and bored expression. When Neil had learned that Andrew and Aaron were twins, he hadn’t thought that they were identical.

“Neil Josten?” Andrew asks, in a way that sounds a lot more like a statement. He doesn’t wait for Neil to respond, only turning around and walking back into his office as if expected Neil to follow. He does.

The office looks more like Abby’s than anything Neil had seen in brief glimpses of posters behind windows or television commercials. He supposes that it comes from the difference between a sports massage and a relaxation one, and feels vaguely relieved that he won’t have to suffer through that farce. The room itself is fairly small, mostly taken up by the massage table in the center and small desk by the door. Andrew goes to the latter and pulls out a clipboard and pen, shoving both into Neil’s hands without any professionalism.

“If you have any contraindications I can’t do the session,” Andrew tells him. “Sign the form and I will leave for you to get undressed.” His gaze runs down Neil’s body in a way that leaves him unsettled, the attention reminding him of the predatory look on the cabbie’s face before he took a “wrong” turn into that alley in Seattle where Nathan Wesninski was waiting.

Neil tries to distract himself by reading over the sheet carefully, leaving all boxes unchecked. Most of the contraindications (high blood pressure, infections, internal injuries, serious wounds and stitches) would prevent him from playing Exy anyways, but the lack of a good reason to get out of the massage still bothers him. He signs his latest name, Neil Josten onto the correct line and hands the clipboard back to Andrew.

As Andrew makes to leave the room, Neil realizes that he has no clue what to do. “How much do I need to take off?” he asks, feeling the slow rise of blood in his cheeks. He hadn’t considered this when Wymack told him he had arranged the appointment.

Andrew looks unimpressed. “Get rid of your shirt and shorts,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “We can have your underwear taken off if you want it to.”

Neil thinks of the scars crisscrossing his chest; the souvenirs of a life on the run and a childhood as the son of the Butcher of Baltimore.

“I’m not taking off my shirt.” It was bad enough that Abby had seen his scars – the pity in her eyes as she took in all of the marks still rankled him.

The massage therapist rolls his eyes in a way that reminds Neil uncomfortably of Aaron, who also makes no attempt to hide his hatred of Neil. The fact that it is his dick of a teammate’s identical twin doesn’t help to warm Neil up to the idea of showing his scars.

“What do you think you’re here for, then?” Andrew asks, his tone becoming mocking. “It’s a massage, of course you have to take off your fucking shirt. Or are you scared of showing off your ouchies?”

Neil flinches. He hadn’t thought that his scars were on the medical file Wymack had sent over. Then he notices the smug look in Andrew’s eyes and tenses. Bitterly, Neil realizes he had fallen for Andrew’s trick and just proved his guess correct. “None of your business,” he spits. The hour-long session hasn’t even started yet and Neil already wants to be somewhere else. “If it’s a problem, I can leave.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Andrew tells him, standing solidly in front of the door in a way that sends Neil’s mind scrambling for an escape route. At the look on his face, Andrew continues, “I do not have time for your issues nor for your idiot of a captain’s harping. So strip down and get on the table so I can finish you off and finally rid myself of you.”

Despite whatever she had against Andrew, Dan had told him it would be beneficial to get the massage therapy. She and Wymack would probably be furious if Neil walked out, especially since the session is paid for by the athletic department. Kevin would be worse. Taking care to make his reluctance obvious, Neil gives a stiff nod and turns away from Andrew.

The smug satisfaction coming from him pisses Neil off.

If not for the fact that Dan Wilds is holding his brother’s contract hostage in the aftermath of the incident with her boyfriend, Andrew would have let his newest client leave. Neil is a combination of annoyingly stupid and attractive with just enough mystery to make him interesting. Too bad he’s incredibly aggravating. Waiting outside of the room for the other to undress, Andrew seethes.

Ever since Roland had moved up north, Andrew hasn’t had an opportunity to release any of his stress (so to speak). His frustration is made painfully obvious by his body’s reaction to Neil Josten’s gorgeous face and the hints of his lean figure that show through those atrocious clothes. The part of Andrew that doesn’t want to disappoint Bee is grateful for the fit of his own pants and the length of his shirt; the unconsciously made image of Neil spread out before him leaves Andrew hard in a way that is far from professional. Andrew doesn’t fuck his partners nor let them actually touch him, but he thinks that he can still get off to the sight of Neil’s pretty face while he blows him.

Andrew washes his hands and knocks on the door, as per the etiquette Bee had taught him. Neil’s grudging affirmation prompts him to reenter.

His client is already lying face-down on the table, plain boxer briefs still on while his shirt and those damned jean shorts lay neatly folded on the edge of the desk. Andrew lets his eyes wander across Neil’s body, noting the lean muscles of his back and his unfairly nice ass. So far Neil’s been completely oblivious to Andrew’s pointed looks and double entendres; Andrew wonders if he’ll have to spell things out.

“Back and legs only,” Neil says through the face hole of the table when Andrew draws near.

Andrew doesn’t respond. From closer, he can see the faint scarring on Neil’s back too, no doubt part of what he was so insistent on hiding. His eyes are caught by the edge of what appears to be an old burn mark on Neil’s shoulder and he finds himself growing more and more interested. Bruises also litter Neil’s body, products of playing Exy rather than a heavy hand.

The coach had signed Neil up for a full-body massage so Andrew starts on the upper body first and plans to work his way down to the calves. He notes the way all of Neil’s muscles are tight. If he keeps tensing up whenever Andrew touches him, the whole massage will be counterproductive.

“Relax. It will be over faster if you stop going rigid every time I move.”

Minutely, the line of Neil’s shoulders become a little softer. Satisfied, Andrew continues on, letting his fingers run over the muscles and scars of Neil’s biceps before lifting his arm and twisting his elbow to stretch the joint capsule. Finished with that, he moves onto the neck and shoulders, ignoring the small shudder Neil makes when Andrew’s hands briefly rest on the back of his neck.

As Andrew kneads into a particularly large knot of Neil’s right side, a breathy moan comes out and he freezes.

Fuck, thinks Andrew. He tries desperately not to think about how hot the sound was, or how much tighter his pants feel. He tries not to picture what Neil’s face must have looked like when he moaned.

(Fuck, thinks Neil, mortified by his own fading pain tolerance. A year ago he was jumping out of moving cars without more than a grunt when he made impact with the ground – now all it takes is a sore muscle to make him groan.)

Andrew swallows, ignoring his arousal and continuing across Neil’s back, working through what must be every inch. Neil’s obliques and fascia, leading to the gluteus, are all tight and Andrew entertains the idea of telling him to pull down his underwear so he could work on that. Instead, he leaves a wide berth around Neil’s ass and moves onto his thighs, disliking the way touching Neil with those thoughts in mind leave him feeling a little closer to his own abusers.

He wonders about the people who hurt Neil. The other’s muscles seemed to indicate that Neil has never relaxed a day in his life – Andrew has to fight through everything. As he finally moves to Neil’s calves, Andrew realizes that leaving the front of his legs alone will make chances of injury more likely. He pulls away.

“Turn around,” Andrew demands. Almost instantly, Neil’s shoulders tense again, as if trying to undo all of Andrew’s work.

“I said back only.”

Andrew doesn’t have the patience for this. “I don’t care. Pull on your shirt or get over whatever issues you have, just turn around so I can do this properly.” When Neil makes no move to obey, Andrew huffs in annoyance and thinks about how satisfying it would be to strangle him. “I will leave this room for one minute and when I get back you better have your shirt back on,” he says, storming out of the room and slamming the door closed behind himself.

A faint rustling noise through the door indicates that Neil is finally listening. Andrew is torn between murdering his client or getting him off. Once everything quiets, Andrew opens the door, forgoing a proper warning in favour of making his annoyance as clear as possible.

Neil is sitting on the table this time, glaring at Andrew, who takes a moment to appreciate how nice and muscled Neil’s legs look from this angle. “Get this over with.”

“That is what I have been trying to do,” Andrew informs him, pressing his fingers into Neil’s thigh.

When the hour is up, Andrew finds himself pulling out his schedule against his better judgement. His traitorous hormones convince him to say, “For best results, you should continue getting a sports massage at least once a week throughout your season. All costs will be covered by the Palmetto athletics program.”

Neil gives him a dirty look that conveys both his suspicion and reluctance to return ever again – after all, Andrew has made it clear many times that all he wants is for Neil to get out. He really isn’t getting paid enough by the school to compensate for Neil’s stupidity, but a part of him hopes that he might be able to get something else out of it.

“Regular sessions of muscle therapy can improve playing and prevent injury,” Andrew tells Neil, seeing the momentary indecision on his face. It’s just his body, Andrew thinks. He wants to solve Neil, he wants to make out with him against a wall. Nothing more.

“Fine,” Neil sighs.

(Later, when Andrew finds himself in a bathroom stall pulling himself off to the memory of the moan Neil had made, he wonders how much he’ll regret this.)

(The answer, as it turns out, is a lot.)

Neil’s still sore the next day – in fact, it feels like all of his muscles ache more. His shots are sloppier and reactions slower and Neil finds himself fighting through practice more than usual. He considers complaining, either to Wymack or straight to Andrew’s face, but finds himself shrugging off Dan when she asks him how the session went with, “I’m fine.”

The day after is different. He’s still sore, but somehow everything seems looser. Matt cheers him on during warm-up when Neil manages to lay his palms flat on the ground while his legs stay straight – something that he hasn’t been able to do for years – and he notices that his movements are sharper, reflexes faster and footwork smoother. Wymack nods approvingly when Neil manages an impossible twist to avoid Aaron’s block and for once Kevin ends their practice without a comment about how bad Neil was.

Renee comes up to him while he eats dinner in the athletes’ hall.

“So how did your appointment with Andrew go?” she asks. Neil still finds her unnerving and focuses his gaze onto his plate of pasta.

“Okay.”

Neil can practically feel Renee smiling at him and tries to make his discomfort more obvious. Maybe this way she’ll leave faster.

“What do you think about Andrew?”

Damn.

Swallowing his bite, Neil says, “He was fine. Not as bad as Dan and Matt say, but still an ass.” A quick glance up reveals that Renee’s smile had faded and belatedly Neil remembers what Matt had told him about Renee and Andrew potentially being a “thing”. He wonders if she’s offended by his words.

“He has his reasons for acting the way he does,” Renee defends. “I think the two of you would make good friends.”

Renee must be off her rocker, Neil thinks. “Not happening.”

“But you have another appointment with him?” she presses.

“It doesn’t mean that I get along with him,” Neil says. Renee seems disappointed by his response, but thankfully finally gets a hint and leaves. He finishes his dinner alone and heads back to the dorm in order to get some studying done before night practice.

Andrew realizes that he’s subconsciously counting down the days until Neil’s next appointment and takes a moment to feel mildly disgusted with himself. It’s ridiculous how caught up he is in this particular pretty face. Andrew hopes that once he finally manages to scratch this itch everything will return to normal and he can continue on with his life.

He answers all of Bee’s questions when she calls him into her office for a cup of hot chocolate. After what he had done to Matt Boyd, she insists on checking in with both the coach and Andrew to make sure there were no other problems. As much as he likes Bee, Andrew thinks that she’s being stupid for not realizing that Boyd was a one time deal. Unless Neil has any drug addictions that threaten Aaron's sobriety, he sees no reason why he’d repeat his actions.

(Andrew suspects that with some questioning of her own, Renee had been able to figure at least part of what had occurred with Boyd. It explains why she had seemed unconcerned and only sat with that stupid smile on her face as she listened to him complain about certain other fucking idiots on her team.)

After a week of waiting – of getting up each morning already tired of the world, of making his way out of his dorm and into his morning classes before heading to Reddin, of being bored and restless and resigned to this half-life – Neil’s next appointment finally comes up and Andrew is disgruntled to find that he has gotten no less attractive.

The session goes similarly to the first. Neil complains but eventually peels off his shirt for Andrew to work out the kinks of his back. He remains oblivious to any advances Andrew sends his way.

This time Andrew tells Neil to pull off his boxer briefs too. He rolls his eyes and metaphorically bats away Neil’s protests. The fact is that the muscles of Neil’s lower back and ass are tight. The fact is that Andrew will suck up his attraction and do this fucking massage properly as if he hadn’t gotten off to Neil the night before. The fact is that there are lines that Andrew is unwilling to cross.

Neil finally gives in and Andrew manages to finish the massage without popping another boner.

The entire school buzzes with anticipation for the Foxes’ first game against Breckenridge. Despite logically knowing that there was no way for their broken team to beat one of the best in the district, even Neil is excited. This will be the first game of his only season, where he gets to see his teammates come together for once and the part of him that isn’t resigned to his death can’t wait.

The weekly sessions with Andrew seem to have paid off. Neil’s still perpetually tired, but his movements are far smoother than before and he was able to get up from a tumble that normally would have sprained something without so much as a wince.

At a little past five on game day, Matt and Dan bring Neil out for dinner. Everything is covered in orange decorations bright enough to make his eyes hurt. He looks down at his plate as they eat and catches a ride with Matt to the stadium.

Kevin grabs onto Neil’s arm when they get to the Foxhole Court. There’s something about his gaze that’s sad, mourning for what will be Neil’s only Exy season. He drags Neil through the bright hallways and into inner court, where the crowd screams.

“You could have been Court,” Kevin says. “You could have played with the best.”

The sentiment is nice but it leaves a bitter feeling in the pit of Neil’s stomach. In another life he could have been – but he’d also be Riko’s toy to torture. He doesn’t say anything, only giving the crowd an awkward wave before they exit the court and make their way back to the home locker room.

Matt claps him on the back when he emerges from the stalls already changed into his gear. Aaron tells him not to screw up, Seth offers what might have been the closest thing to a smile Neil’s ever seen on his face, and the Foxes’ new freshman goalkeeper catches Neil’s eye. The boys file out of the locker room to meet up with Dan, Renee, Allison, and the other backliner. They enter the court to the sound of Palmetto’s song and the roar of the crowd.

Their match against Breckenridge ends as expected: the Foxes lose seven to eleven, their new goalkeeper falling apart just before half-time and leaving Renee to try to hold together defense. Neil had scored two of those goals before being fouled by number sixteen against the plexiglass wall and crumbling. Kevin had been absolutely livid. Neil thinks that if Andrew had been there, he would have called him an idiot.

All Neil wants to do is sleep off his soreness after the game but he’s woken early by Matt’s alarm and Seth’s subsequent swears. He and Matt quietly get dressed for the bus ride to Kathy Ferdinand’s show.

When he meets her, Neil finds that Kathy reminds him of Lola Malcolm, his father’s favourite person for body clean-up. Her painted lips twist into a smile and she looks at Neil like he’s something to eat.

“I want you on my show,” she tells him. “Everyone wants to know about the Foxes’ new striker, the rookie who stands beside Kevin Day.”

“No,” Neil says. “I’m not interested.” Playing in a stadium filled with sixty-five thousand fans on a live-broadcasted game was already risky. There is no way he can show his face so closely.

“No,” Kevin agrees. He’s determined to have Neil play as long as he possibly can and catching the attention of either the Moriyamas or one of the Butcher’s men will put an end to their season fast.

Kathy’s smile fades. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying. This will bring you national attention. Do you know what that means for your future career?”

It’s exactly what Neil doesn’t want. “Still not interested.”

He sits between Wymack and Matt as Kevin’s led backstage. The lights come on and Kevin enters to roaring applause, the pleased look on Kathy’s face saying just how high she expects her show’s views to go. It grows when Riko Moriyama appears.

Dread fills Neil’s stomach as he watches Kevin’s face. Riko pulls him into a hug that Kevin stiffly returns before destroying him on national television with a woven story about a ski accident and false regret. He tears Kevin apart, promising that a coaching position at Edgar Allen would be much better for whatever remains of his career. The show ends with Kathy’s glowing face and Kevin and Riko disappear offstage. Neil scrambles out of his seat to find them, ignoring Dan’s calls after him.

He finds Kevin cowering against a wall and Riko leaning in. The sight might otherwise be comical – Kevin is so much taller – but the cruel glint in Riko’s eyes reminds Neil vividly of his father. In a questionable move that goes against all of his survival instincts, Neil pulls Riko away.

Riko snarls at Neil. “Well if it isn’t my replacement.”

“Stay the fuck away from Kevin,” Neil says angrily. He’s always had his father’s temper.

“Kevin belongs to the Ravens.” Riko wrenches himself from Neil’s grip and stares him down.

“Kevin doesn’t belong to your screwed up team, especially not after what you did to him.”

An ugly look twists across Riko’s face and he reaches for Neil. Kevin makes to stop him, but Riko swiftly elbows him before shoving Neil against the wall, hand on his throat and face hovering inches away. He peers at Neil before his eyes are caught on something.

“Black and red are Raven colours,” Riko says, a dark grin across his face as he stares at Neil’s forehead – at the roots of his hair.

Neil freezes and tries to remember desperately if he had checked his dye that morning. He hadn’t – he and Matt were both exhausted when they got up and Neil’s hair is still messy from the nap he took on the bus. Parts of his bangs are sticking out, offering a clear view of the hint of red.

Neil’s entire body screams at him to run. He needs to leave, he needs to get his duffle and his binder full of contacts and run –

Matt appears and hauls Riko off of Neil. “What are you doing to my team?” he demands.

“Do not involve yourself in matters that do not concern you,” spits Riko, pulling away from Matt. He looks at Neil, then Kevin. “It seems that he is more interesting than I thought.”

That’s what Andrew had said to him. Neil frowns.

When Riko’s gone and the team piles into the bus, Kevin asks Neil to sit beside him. The complete terror on his face makes Neil agree, remembering what he had been told about the Raven’s messed-up partner thing.

“We’re going to die,” Kevin tells him. Neil doesn’t reply.

Andrew finds himself pacing around his dorm room wondering if Neil is okay. The striker had collapsed during the game against Breckenridge that Andrew had tuned into on a whim. He isn’t supposed to be so invested in his client but fuck, it isn’t just Neil’s gorgeous face that interests him.

Neil is a problem. He’s a problem to solve, he’s a problem to the promise Andrew had made to himself about never wanting anything ever again.

He remembered the time he went to the Fox Tower to remind Aaron about his own promise. The two had been speaking in German, Aaron quickly getting more and more agitated, when Neil interrupted in the same language.

“You’re blocking the hallway,” Neil had snapped. “And whatever you’re yelling about, maybe take it somewhere more private?”

Neil’s fluency in German is just another piece of the puzzle that Andrew finds himself collecting. The twins had learnt the language from their cousin – who had moved back to Germany once they graduated high school – but Andrew can’t detect any hint of Nicky’s accent in Neil’s speech and can’t think of a reason why this nobody from Arizona would speak three languages, if what he had heard Neil conversing with Kevin in was actually French.

Andrew eventually nods off on his beanbag chair, the television still running in the background. He’s woken up by his phone ringing, and angrily checks the time to see that it’s already past nine.

Oh well; he has no classes on Saturdays.

He picks up the phone. “What?” he demands, before Kevin can get a word in.

“Can you drive me to Columbia? Me and Neil. God, I need a drink.”

Andrew normally makes a habit of denying Kevin – he said no when Kevin tried to sign him onto the Ravens, and later as a Fox. He says no most of the time when Kevin asks to be brought to Eden’s. The drive is two hours too long to deal with his complaining and not even Sweetie’s ice cream and a platter of booze is worth it. Neil Josten might be.

“Why?” he asks, because Andrew likes to be difficult.

Kevin groans into the speaker. “Riko showed up during Kathy’s show and Neil pissed him off. I’m not drunk enough to deal with him.”

That piqued Andrew’s interest. Kevin had told Andrew his little sob story when he first appeared at Palmetto, as if that would convince him of anything. He had told Kevin to fuck off, but it means that Andrew is aware of all of Riko’s various...habits.

“My last appointment ends at eight,” he says. “Be at my office or we’re not going. Bring Aaron.”

The silence from the other end indicates how stunned Kevin is. “Really?”

Andrew is so tempted to change his mind. “If you ask again, it’s a no.” He hangs up.

Andrew spends the morning lazing around, disinterested in either starting the new novel sitting on the counter or breaking his streak of not doing any homework. Half an hour before his first appointment of the day, he pulls himself up, gets dressed, and drives to Reddin.

Whatever his interest in Neil is, it’s proving to be a problem. Andrew can’t stop thinking about him as he mindlessly completes his other sessions. It’s ridiculous how into Neil he is, and Andrew wants nothing more than to push him down so he can finally get on with his life.

At eight Andrew finishes with his last client (a player on the Palmetto basketball team) and sets about locking up. When he gets to the parking lot, Kevin, Neil, and Aaron are already there, leaning against his GS and probably scuffing the paint. Kevin has a car, but if Aaron and Andrew go with him to Eden’s Twilight, he gets a nice supply of free alcohol, despite Roland not being there. Andrew glances over all of them. Aaron and Kevin are both wearing the usual tight black clothes that match what most of Eden’s patrons wear, but Neil’s dressed like a train wreck. Andrew swears he’s not disappointed.

“You’re letting him go out in that? Fuck no, I’m not associating with him,” says Andrew, locking up the main doors the the medical center. “I’m driving to Fox Tower so I don’t have to look at him all night.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Neil asks defensively. Both Aaron and Kevin roll their eyes, as if they’ve heard this before.

“Your clothes look like they’re all from the thrift store. Get changed.”

“I don’t have anything else.”

Andrew huffs. He doesn’t even know why he’s so interested in Neil if he’s like this. “Fine. I’m driving to my dorm and I will pick out something for you to wear.”

Neil isn’t much taller than him and whatever differences in body shapes they have won’t be too much of an issue. Andrew suspects that if Neil doesn’t insist on wearing shirts way too large, they might even be the same size. He climbs into the driver’s seat as Kevin takes the passenger’s; Aaron and Neil sit behind them. Andrew cranks up the radio music as loud as possible to annoy Kevin and pulls into the parking lot of his dorm building.

Neil grudgingly follows him inside while the other two stay in the car. They get to Andrew’s room and Neil stays standing awkwardly off to the side as Andrew shoves a shirt and pair of pants at him. Neil changes in the bathroom and Andrew waits impatiently. If Neil’s not interested, at least he’ll get good jerking off material.

When Neil finally comes out of the bathroom Andrew appreciatively looks up and down his body. Everything’s black, a huge improvement from Neil’s usual faded tees. Neil’s legs must be more muscled than Andrew’s because the way the pants cling to his thighs and ass is obscene while Andrew’s larger sweater hangs off Neil’s frame and reveals more of his collar bones.

“About time,” Andrew says, leading Neil back to the car. He slides into his seat and turns on the engine before starting the drive to Columbia.

Kevin, Aaron, and Andrew all chase down the cracker dust with shots of alcohol as Neil watches disapprovingly. His habit with cigarette smoke aside, Neil can't bring himself to sympathize with drug addictions after spending so much of his life trying to survive from physical dangers.

Aaron soon stumbles off onto the dance floor while Kevin drinks enough to plaster himself. Neil spots what might be amusement in Andrew’s expression as he looks at the passed-out striker. He takes a sip of his own soda.

“Too good to drink with us?” Andrew asks mockingly. His tolerance is impressive, considering how much he knocked back and how startlingly in control he is.

“Not interested in making a fool of myself,” Neil corrects. “I don’t get why you all need to kill yourself on substances.”

Andrew shrugs. “Wouldn't you want to know? Hey, how about we play a game? I ask, you answer, then we switch.”

Neil straightens on his stool. He’s heard enough about Andrew from the team to paint a mystery. Neil’s always been a curious person, and his need to know what’s going on between the twins burns within him. “Okay,” he agrees.

“My turn,” says Andrew. He continues in German before Neil has a chance to protest. “Who gave you your scars?”

Right to the point. Neil thinks carefully about what he has to say – Andrew’s remarkably perceptive and will probably call out any lies if they’re too obvious, but there is no way he can tell him the truth. Kevin knows about the Butcher and what he means to the Moriyamas, but he’s safe because he’s still an investment. Someone like Andrew will just be caught in the crossfire, or worse, be used by Nathan’s men to track him down. Rapidly trying to come up with a convincing lie, Neil thinks that it’s funny that his first answer in their game won’t be completely true.

“My father.” The lie is only by omission; some of the scars did come from Neil’s father, but many more of them came from life on the run. Neil asks his own question before Andrew can probe for more.

“Why didn’t you join the team?”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “That’s a waste of a question. I don’t care enough about Exy to waste my time playing it.”

“But everyone says you’re really good,” Neil presses, frustrated with the response. How would the game against Breckenridge have gone if a goalkeeper of Andrew’s alleged calibre was there to block shots? “You can’t be good enough to catch Kevin’s attention without caring at least a little.”

“I don’t care. Next question: who is your father?”

“A low-level criminal,” Neil says. It’s a bit of a stretch. “He’d get angry at me a lot and wasn’t afraid to test his knives on me.”

“Alive?”

“Dead,” Neil lies. If Andrew kept asking questions like these, Neil won’t be able to risk giving any truths.

Andrew nods, as if anything Neil says will be unsurprising. “Your turn.”

It takes a moment for Neil to figure out a question. Part of him wants to continue asking about Exy; he can’t imagine someone giving up the sport. Instead, Neil asks, “What’s between you and Aaron?”

“You’re nosy, aren’t you?” Andrew says mockingly. “We’re twins, not bound to each other. He exists on his plane and I exist on mine.” He leans forward across the table so their faces are only half a foot apart. “Last question, do you really not notice me coming onto you or are you just not interested?”

“Huh?” The world feels like it’s spinning and only Andrew remains stable. Neil isn’t sure if he heard right. “You were coming onto me?”

Andrew moves away again, settling back into his stool and Neil is suddenly aware of the lack of his smoky breath. “That answers my question. You have one more, then I think we’ll wrap this up for tonight.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Everything still feels unsteady.

Andrew narrows his eyes. “Because I was doing my job. Is it a problem?”

Neil gave him his answer for free. “You won’t do anything,” he says. “It’s fine.”

“I hate you,” Andrew announces. His form seems to relax before he reaches out and tips back the last of their shot glasses. “Help me get Kevin into the car, we’re leaving.”

Waking Kevin is a struggle. He sleeps like a rock and his breath smells horrid; Neil grimaces before finally accepting his fate and letting Kevin lean off of him for support. Andrew soon shows up with Aaron, who once drunk seems to have less of an issue with Neil, and Andrew leads them out the back door into the parking lot. From there, he drives them to a house before pulling up in the driveway.

“Is this okay?” Neil asks nervously. He can’t imagine that anyone would be thrilled to find four college students loitering outside their house.

“We own the house, idiot,” Andrew says, waving his keys at Neil before unlocking the door. “You get my cousin’s bedroom.”

After dumping Kevin onto the couch, falling asleep is easy. It’s late and Neil is still tired from the game against Breckenridge and the stress of worrying about what Riko had said.

He wakes up the next morning to his phone going off. Groaning, he checks the caller ID.

“Coach?”

“You and Kevin are safe, right?” Wymack says, skipping any pleasantries.

Neil tries to blink away his sleepiness. “Yeah,” he says, confused. “Did something happen?”

“Seth got jumped while he and Allison went out last night. He’s in the hospital.”

Suddenly Neil is awake. “What?”

“He’s alive and stable, don’t worry. But I have to make a bunch of calls to the ERC to make sure we can still play.”

“Wait, why?”

“They fractured three of his ribs and someone might have broken his leg. Seth’s out for at least this half of the season.”

Since Gordon won’t be playing in any games until at least the spring championships (provided the Foxes manage to climb up from the bottom), Kevin and Neil are stuck learning how to play a full game. Kevin calls Andrew with the news.

“I bring you to Columbia once and suddenly you think I actually want to talk to you,” Andrew says in disgust.

Kevin ignores him. “I want to hire you for post-game sessions.”

Andrew pauses, finger hovering over the end call button, and waits for Kevin to elaborate.

“We’re each playing a full ninety minutes,” Kevin says. “I’ve read that sports massage therapy helps prevent delayed onset muscle soreness, which is pivotal if Neil’s to improve enough for the team to make it into championships.”

“Or you could do what most people do and take a fucking break.”

“There’s no time,” Kevin tells him, and something about the tone of his voice makes Andrew narrow his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Kevin’s silence serves to only piss Andrew off. He grits his teeth and wonders what it is about Exy players that make them so damn annoying. “I’m going to talk to Bee about raising my prices,” Andrew finally says. “If you’re willing to pay what athletics won’t, then you get your stupid sessions.”

He takes pleasure in ending the call before Kevin can get another word in. It’s fair, he thinks. Exy games last until late at night, and just looking at Neil’s face wasn’t enough of an incentive to stay working so long. Andrew’s phone rings again a few minutes later.

“We’ll pay,” Kevin says.

“You told me Edgar Allan has all your money.”

There’s a pause and what sounds like murmuring on the other end. “I found some on the ground. It’ll be enough.”

Andrew sighs but doesn’t see the point of continuing this particular argument.

“The game’s on Friday, away against Belmonte. You can ride the bus with us from Fox Tower; we’re leaving at one thirty. How much do you need for compensation?” Kevin asks in his typical haughty way, leaving no time for interjections because he doesn’t believe that anyone would interrupt him anyways.

Andrew needs to call Bee. Technically he’s not allowed to set up this sort of thing, but he gives a rough estimate of a price and tells Kevin to bring along a bottle of whiskey. “I’m not riding back with your team unless sober,” he says. Before Kevin could get in the last word, Andrew hangs up again.

He sighs and moves towards his window, opening it up so he can take a smoke. If he thought that the answers he got the previous night would change his infatuation with Neil Josten, he was wrong. Neil is still everything he could ever want. A pretty face and nice body to grab his attention, interesting enough to keep it. Andrew remembers the exact way Neil had looked at him last night, confident that Andrew wouldn’t do anything to him despite all the people calling him a monster. He wonders if Neil knew about the time he nearly broke Reynold’s neck for getting into a fight with Aaron, or if anyone’s told him about the incident with Boyd yet. He wonders how Neil would react if he knew about Tilda Minyard or Drake Spear.

He takes a drag from his cigarette and wonders if this is what falling from a skyscraper feels like, the breath being pushed out of his lungs and the knowledge of how things will inevitably end.

Andrew’s always been afraid of heights.

Neil plays each game like it’s his last and maybe it is. All he can do is wait and see if Riko is planning anything else, the anonymous message expressing “sympathies” for Seth’s attack leaving guilt to fester in his stomach.

He plays with nothing to lose, sprinting across the court and making risky moves, working himself until he feels like he’ll fall apart before letting Andrew put him back together.

The Exy teams’ fall banquet comes and Renee asks Andrew to go with her.

“I hear Kevin’s managed to force Neil into a suit,” she tells him, smiling in a way that is definitely not innocent. Renee blocks the punch Andrew aims at her throat before sending a kick to his kidneys.

They’re both lying on the shitty carpeted floor, trying to catch their breath, when he tells Renee “yes”.

It’s a surprise that Renee is taking Andrew as her date, especially after what Andrew had said in Columbia. Neil wonders if they really are together and Andrew likes both, or if they’re just going as friends. He and Kevin are the only Foxes without dates; Seth has healed just enough that he agrees to take Allison, Dan and Matt are together, and all of the others have found classmates to bring.

The team files into the host school’s court, floors covered with rubber matting and space filled with tables. Neil frowns at the misuse of the court, but is distracted as everyone lets out curses when they see who they’re sharing a table with.

Squaring her shoulders, Dan takes the lead and seats herself directly opposite of Riko while the other Foxes spread out beside her. The freshmen and their dates take a spot at the end and somehow Neil finds himself sitting between Kevin and Andrew. As soon as the Foxes are settled, the two Ravens sitting across from Kevin and Neil rise, only to be replaced by their captain and number three. If not for the fact that they’re surrounded by potential witnesses, Neil’s pretty sure that Riko would be making snide comments at Seth, who he’s already glancing at from across the table. Instead, Riko and Jean Moreau keep their attention on him.

They know, Neil thinks miserably as Jean rattles names off to him in French and Riko leans back in his chair, arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on his face. Kevin keeps glancing between the three of them worriedly.

“It’s rude to speak in another language in front of people,” Andrew suddenly interrupts from beside Neil. The Ravens turn to him as Kevin tries to shush him from Neil’s other side.

“Andrew Minyard, what a surprise,” Riko drawls. “Having fun? I sometimes regret offering you that spot at Edgar Allen, since evidently you weren’t even good enough for this reject team.”

“That’s funny,” Neil says. “Since he’s the one going to the school with the best striker in the world.”

Fury paints its way across Riko’s face. “Haven’t you learned to treat your betters with respect? Or did your mother forget to teach you how to close your mouth?”

Neil loses it. Ignoring Kevin’s fingernails digging into his thigh and his desperate pleas to stop, ignoring the fact that he has the attention of the entire table, Ravens and Foxes alike, ignoring whatever remains of his survival instincts, he lets Riko have it.

Dan’s speechless and Matt rushes off to get Wymack.

Neil Josten is an idiot, Andrew thinks viciously as he shoves himself in between Riko and Neil, using his body as a physical barrier against Riko’s blows. When Wymack, pissed off and looking torn between chewing out Coach Moriyama and strangling his own striker eventually appears, Andrew finally steps away – he hadn’t realized that he and Neil were still standing only inches apart.

The Foxes lose horribly against the Ravens, the defence exhausted from being run into the ground. Neil tells Andrew to deal with Matt or Renee, who seemed to have taken the brunt of the Ravens’ offense, since he hadn’t had very many opportunities with the ball.

He catches himself staring at Andrew’s fingers, at the way the light reflects off of his hair, at the concentration on his face, before turning away.

It’s been months and Andrew’s interest in Neil still hasn’t gotten any smaller.

Andrew’s hands – large and calloused with perpetually bruised knuckles – run over Neil’s skin in a way that reminds him of their owner. They’re harsh and unforgiving as Andrew presses into muscles and pulls at joints, but there’s something soft about the way he touches Neil’s scars. Neil finds himself relaxing under Andrew now, lulled into a sense of security by his steadiness.

The Foxes already know that they made it into championships, just barely slipping in as fourth with their shitty scores. Since odds are unfortunate enough to be in the same bracket as the big three for their first few games, the team ended up celebrating their improved chances before Kevin brought them back down with his usual pessimism. Although regular practices are already over, the Christmas banquet not quite as much of a disaster as the fall one, Neil finds himself working just as hard as ever. Kevin is determined to make it as far as possible into the championships.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Neil asks, partly out of guilt for making Andrew come in during the holidays.

Andrew pinches the back of his thigh and Neil yelps. “I didn’t say that it was okay for you to talk.”

A smile curves its way across Neil’s face, not that Andrew can see. “You staying in Columbia?”

“Yeah. Nicky’s coming over for Christmas with his boyfriend,” Andrew finally sighs. He doesn’t bother asking about Neil – it’s pretty obvious that he and Kevin are staying with Abby and playing Exy.

“That’s nice,” Neil says, for lack of anything else to say. Warm hands gently rub at the spot Andrew pinched, almost in apology, and Neil closes his eyes.

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” Andrew asks. He’s working on the part were Neil’s legs just meet his ass, and Neil can’t remember if it normally feels so nice.

He laughs, the sound muffled by the table. “I thought you liked my smart comments.”

“They make people more likely to murder you, so no. I like having a constant stream of cash flowing in.”

“I swear you smiled during the Christmas banquet.”

Andrew stills for a moment before moving down to Neil’s calves. “I emphasize with Riko Moriyama right now. You’re insufferable,” he says, but Neil can hear the amusement in his tone. He presses into the muscle at the back Neil’s right calf, which often takes the brunt of his playing, and Neil hums in appreciation. Eventually, Andrew moves away.

“Get dressed.” Andrew leaves the room and closes the door behind him. After taking a moment to bask in how nice everything was, Neil heaves himself off the table and thoughtlessly pulls on his clothes, admiring how loose and relaxed his body feels.

Andrew reenters without knocking – sometimes Neil swears that his massage therapist times how long it takes for him to change. He opens his mouth, about to say something nice like thanks, you’re amazing or happy holidays when he notices that Andrew’s attention is elsewhere. Neil follows Andrews gaze down and–

“Oh,” Neil says. His face feels warm as he looks at the obvious tent in his sweats, something that had never happened before. He thinks about what Andrew had told him in Columbia, months ago. He thinks about the way the light filters in through the office’s window and how it makes Andrew’s eyes seem gold.

“You’re hard,” Andrew observes.

Neil tries to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make this weird –”

Whatever else Neil was going to say (he’s not entirely sure) dies when suddenly Andrew’s right in front of him, mouth pressed against Neil’s own.

Neil’s mouth is soft and pliant – everything Andrew has imagined. A part of him is desperately trying to memorize everything. He pushes harder and tilts his head to get a better angle, working at Neil’s lips.

The buzz of Neil’s phone interrupts them, and Andrew jolts back as soon as he realizes what he’s doing. Somehow his hand had made its way onto Neil’s jaw without him noticing and Neil, probably unconsciously, makes a whining noise at the loss of contact before he fishes his phone out of his pocket. While he types out a response to whatever the text says, Andrew slowly comes to terms with what he had done.

As a general rule, Andrew refuses to feel regret for his actions; it’s a waste of time and does nothing but make him miserable. However, his other rule is to never touch anyone without consent and here he was, moments after kissing Neil without asking yet still unable to peel his eyes away from Neil’s swollen lips because all he wants is to do it again. Andrew swallows heavily, all too aware of the blood rushing down and the desire.

“Hey,” Neil says, tucking away his phone at looking up at Andrew – with him still sitting on the table, he’s shorter. “You still hate me, right?”

Andrew’s heart is beating wildly. “Of course.” He manages to wrench his eyes away from Neil’s lips but can’t find anything else to focus on, not when the flush on Neil’s face looks absolutely gorgeous, not when his hair looks so tempting for Andrew to run his fingers through, not when a part of him still hasn’t forgotten that he’s between Neil’s legs, leaning in, and that Neil’s hard.

“That was nothing,” Andrew adds. “I’m sorry.” The words sound foreign on his tongue.

“It’s okay.” Neil brings his face forward so their lips are less than an inch away. Andrew can feel every breath and it sends shivers down his spine. A tiny glimmer of hope flares in his chest. “I don’t mind doing it again.”

“Good,” says Andrew, eliminating the remaining distance between them. He waits until Neil’s eyes slide shut before closing his own. His fingers tangle into Neil’s hair and he opens his mouth against Neil’s; a thrill runs through him when Neil responds. The brush of Neil’s hands on Andrew’s arms prompt him to abandon Neil’s hair and instead reach out to catch his wrists, bringing them down to rest against the massage table. Disliking the lack of leverage, Andrew finds himself pushing Neil down so he’s lying horizontally across the table with Andrew hovering above him on his elbows. He feels Neil smile and bites at his lips in retaliation.

The brush of Neil’s arousal on his stomach causes Andrew to finally pull away.

“I can get rid of that,” he says. His hands are still occupied with pinning Neil’s down, so he gestures with his head instead.

Neil looks dazed. “You don’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” It’s unhealthy how much Neil can make Andrew want to roll his eyes. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil says breathlessly.

Andrew stands and to Neil’s credit, he doesn’t say anything stupid. “Not here,” Andrew tells him. This may be his fantasies come true, but Andrew still doesn’t want to disappoint Bee.

They don’t talk as Andrew locks up, rushing through his usual routine. He forgoes wiping down the table and makes a mental note to do it later – right now, there are more pressing matters. Neil follows Andrew out of the medical center and waits impatiently for him to lock up the doors, his hands less steady than he would like to admit. The doors to the GS are unlocked and Neil falls into the backseat, Andrew climbing in after him.

“Don’t touch me,” he warns before kissing Neil again. Neil’s hands almost instantly disappear behind his back. “Is it still a yes?”

“Yes.”

After Andrew pulls him off, Neil stares at him with half-lidded eyes. Andrew struggles not to give in and lean into him, instead reaching around the passenger’s seat into the glove compartment, where Nicky had left a travel-sized pack of tissues long ago. He tosses them at Neil and averts his eyes while he cleans up.

“Andrew,” Neil says once he’s done. “Do you want me to?”

Neil doesn’t finish his sentence, but Andrew didn’t need him to. “Stand outside the car until I tell you I’m done.”

Neil wiggles out of the other backseat door from under Andrew, taking obvious care not to brush against him. Andrew doesn’t move until he sees Neil through the window, leaning against the side of the car and looking away. It doesn’t take long for Andrew to bring his own release – the memory of Neil is so much more vivid than whatever images his mind had conjured before.

Andrew reaches for the glove compartment again when he’s done, dropping in the remaining tissues and pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He climbs out of the car and stands next to Neil before lighting up.

“Can I?” Neil asks. Andrew hands him a stick and the lighter, leaning back.

The way Neil smokes is peculiar. After passing Andrew back his lighter, he only takes a single drag to get the flame going before holding the cigarette under his nose, feverishly breathing in the fumes but taking in none of the nicotine.

“You’re a mystery,” says Andrew offhandedly.

“I thought I was a menace?”

“You can be both,” Andrew decides. When they’ve both burned down to the filter they get back into the car and Andrew drives Neil to Abby’s house.

Kissing Andrew is something Neil could have never imagined, an indulgence into something his mother never let him have. It feels like he’s being put together and taken apart, like every kiss is a battle and every breath in between an eternity. If he’s honest, Neil doesn’t think it would be anywhere near as incredible with anyone else; he had never been attracted to anyone and now suddenly all he can think of when he isn't playing is Andrew’s mouth against his. Andrew’s assurances that this means nothing is more of a help than he likely realizes; it eases the bitterness Neil feels when he thinks about his time limit.

Sorry, Mom, he thinks. Sorry for playing Exy, sorry for staying, sorry for getting attached, sorry for finding someone to kiss.

Kissing Neil is a drug that Andrew doesn’t mind being addicted to – ironic considering the other’s opinion on substance use. He doesn’t ever remember being so invested in someone, but for some reason ending each session gets harder and harder.

If he’s still falling, Andrew thinks he may be reaching terminal velocity.

They make out during any time they can steal away from the Foxes and their suspicious gaze. Andrew never lets anything more than kissing happen in his office, but has no qualms about driving Neil to his dorm if there’s enough time before his next appointment.

More often than not, kisses and getting off become part of Neil’s post-game sessions, with the exception of the home game against Breckenridge, when Neil had been too shaken by the Happy 19th Birthday, Jr on the mirror for Andrew to accept his yes.

He thinks he’ll miss the kisses when everything inevitably ends.

Neil knows his time is running out. The signs are in the countdown that had started on his – Nathaniel Wesninski’s – birthday, which ends on the day of the match against Binghamton.

The signs are in Neil cancelling his postgame appointment with Andrew.

In the call from Baltimore.

In the riot started by his father’s men.

In the car with a knife pressed to his face and a dashboard lighter burning into his hands.

In the house he’s spent the past few years of his life running away from.

In his father’s cruel grin.

And suddenly, Neil’s in overtime.

The game against Binghamton finishes on a sour note; the Foxes just barely win but a fight breaks out soon after. Andrew – having reluctantly turned on ESPN – drinks in Neil’s handsome features as he’s interviewed. His black hair is plastered onto his forehead with sweat and his eyes light up when Wilds slings her arm around his shoulders.

When the interview’s done, Andrew gets up to put away his tub of ice cream. Sometime during the two hours he’d been watching the game, his dessert had melted into an unfortunate puddle. Along the way he replies to a text about spring break that Nicky had sent him days ago, bringing his phone back to the beanbag to await a message from Neil, either about booking another session or asking for something extra. Neil was supposed to be a way to pass the time – it’s ridiculous how quickly Andrew’s fallen for him and stupid of him to keep wanting more. He curls up into the chair and reaches for the remote to flip the channel.

The announcer’s talking about a riot and Andrew stills. “ – just broke out as Palmetto’s Exy team was loading into their bus. Sources report that multiple objects were first thrown before things quickly escalated. We are unsure about the condition of the athletes and fans. Ambulances have been called to bring those injured to the hospital and – ”

Andrew stops listening as he frantically types into his phone. First he calls Aaron, but his twin doesn’t pick up. The stupid dial tone just keeps ringing and Andrew ends the attempt before trying Neil and even Kevin, both of whom don’t answer. He calls Aaron again.

Aaron finally picks up and the awful suffocating feeling that had built up in Andrew’s chest releases. He’s safe.

“Are you okay?” Andrew demands desperately.

“Yeah,” says Aaron. He’s speaking hollowly, as if in shock. “I nearly got hit by a bottle and someone managed to land a punch in but I’m okay. We’re in the bus right now waiting for Josten so we can leave –”

“Neil? Where the fuck is he?”

Aaron sounds irritated. “How am I supposed to know? He was walking with us one moment then disappeared as soon as the riot started. Coach won’t leave without him.”

He better not, thinks Andrew viciously. Whatever fear he had for Aaron’s safety is gone fast, leaving Andrew uninterested in talking further. He hangs up without another word and tries dialling Neil another time, but gives up when he’s eventually sent to voicemail.

Neil is fine, he tries to tell himself. He has shitty survival instincts but chances are he’s holed up somewhere waiting out the riot.

Still, Andrew stays clutching his phone and the moment it goes off, he answers without checking the number.

“Andrew?” Kevin asks and his voice is laced with panic. “Has Neil called you?”

Andrew doesn’t know why Kevin thinks he would. “No.”

“We can’t find him anywhere,” Kevin says. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

Kevin hesitates. If it’s possible to reach through the phone and throttle someone, that’s what Andrew would be doing now. “He – never mind. If he calls you, try to keep him on as long as possible.” There is worry and concern in Kevin’s tone – something that Andrew has never heard before. For once, he isn’t the one hanging up and the abruptness is unsettling.

Even if he wanted to, Andrew’s unable to sleep. He’s restless, incapable of staying on the beanbag and instead crashing through his own dorm. He leaves the television on just in case Neil shows up and somehow the reporters are the first to know. He doesn’t. It’s not the deep, wrenching fear of not knowing if Aaron was safe, but a threatening hollowness that leaves Andrew unsure of what he’ll do if they find Neil bleeding out in a corner of Binghamton’s campus. By midnight, Andrew gets the idea to try calling hospitals in the area; none of them have any patients that match Neil’s description (Andrew suspects that the desk clerk was surprised by how thorough his description was) and all of his texts to Aaron and Kevin go unanswered.

The Foxes return to Palmetto the next afternoon, something Andrew only knows because the whole campus is talking about it. Completely pissed off, he yanks on a pair of sweats and warm jacket before driving to Fox Tower.

Andrew isn’t allowed up without a pass; instead he incessantly calls Aaron until he eventually picks up.

“What?”

“Come down,” Andrew orders, and hangs up.

As soon as Aaron arrives, Andrew’s pulling him forward and inspecting his face. There’s a blooming bruise on Aaron’s cheekbone – probably from the punch that he had told him about – but no other damage. Aaron looks exhausted, though. “What happened?”

His twin gives him an impatient look. “There was a riot, Josten didn’t show up, so Coach finally drove us to the hotel.”

“Where was he?” Andrew is already thinking of somewhere to bury Neil’s body. Was it too hard to answer Andrew’s texts with his usual I’m fine so he wouldn’t be worrying throughout the entire night?

Aaron huffs angrily. “‘There is no Neil Josten.’ I don’t really know nor care. Try asking Kevin if you still give any shits, I’m going to take a shower,” he says, backing out of Andrew’s grip and heading back to the elevator. Andrew lets him leave, because he’s already calling Kevin down.

When Kevin finally comes into the lobby, it’s obvious that he’s hiding something. Huge bags under his eyes and a tired air, more resigned than concerned, match the hesitant way he approaches Andrew. “Talk,” Andrew says in a tone that leaves no room for protest.

Kevin does anyways, because Kevin is really bad at listening. “We can’t talk about the case –”

“What case?” Andrew asks, except this time it sounds a lot more threatening.

It’s also probably more threatening because he’s unsubtly reaching for his knife. The light flashes off it; Kevin swallows noticeably.

“Neil’s family is highly involved in organized crime,” he whispers, leaning down and looking around nervously as if someone would bother eavesdropping. “The FBI have taken him in. I’m not telling you any more.” It’s funny how after all this time, Kevin’s finally managed to grow a spine.

Unfortunately, he chose a bad time. The next thing he knows, Andrew’s on top of Kevin, pinning him down by this throat and snarling. Any athletes loitering in the lobby are suddenly rushing forward to pull Andrew off of Kevin; most of them are nearly twice his size but it still takes three to succeed. A few help Kevin up while the rest hold back Andrew.

“Where is he?” Andrew demands, struggling to break free. Kevin only gives him an unreadable look before he shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Kevin says as he shuffles off. He sounds weary; Andrew doesn’t think he has a right to be. “Neil’s gone.”

Andrew finally wrenches away from the athletes and they glower at him as he leaves Fox Tower. He manages to procure a bottle of strong alcohol and a pack of cigarettes, perhaps not entirely legally, before he makes it back to his dorm. Leaning out the edge of the window, Andrew takes deep breathes to calm his rapidly beating heart. He puffs on his cigarette before bringing it up to his nose. Instead of taking another drag, he inhales the smoke.

Neil’s gone, repeats a voice in Andrew’s head. There is no Neil Josten.

Neil Josten is pissed off. The FBI agent tasked with dealing with him, Towns, should have what he came for; Neil gave as much information as he knows about his father’s circle a week ago. This means that he should be in sitting in a car and being driven back to PSU, not listening to Towns try to badger him into entering Witness Protection.

“I want to return to the Foxes,” he says for what seems like the twentieth time. “You found the bodies of my father and his men; I’m not joining Witness.”

Towns looks at him like he’s a kid. “Look, Nathaniel –”

“Neil.”

“Look, Neil,” the agent sighs. He speaks condescendingly. “You returning to Palmetto could endanger your entire team. One of your father’s men could attempt to attack you there or –”

“My father’s circle dead,” Neil interrupts. Stuart had assured him of that, and if there’s one thing that Neil is willing to trust his uncle with, it’s the promise that the Hatfords will be finished wiping out Nathan Wesninski’s men soon. “Without me, the Foxes’ season is over.”

It’s selfish of him to want to go back. There are so many ways that he can – has – hurt them, but a part of Neil longs for the friendship they had offered him. Before leaving, Dan had looked him right in the eyes and told him to come back as soon as the FBI finished with him; Matt pulled him into a hug and Seth reminded Neil that he still owes him. Wymack had promised that Neil has a lot of practice ahead of him to make up for his healing time and Kevin had said one word: Court.

“You can’t make me enter Witness Protection,” Neil says and Towns lets out a long-suffering sigh.

When Neil arrives on campus he asks the agent to drive him to the the Foxhole Court instead of his dorms. He knows he must smell and look terrible, but it’s the Foxes’ practice time and they should all be on court.

Seth notices him first from his spot on the bleachers. Soon Matt’s tripping over himself to reach Neil and Wymack’s calling break. His teammates – friends – cheer when they see him and Neil feels like he’s coming home.

Andrew’s been on autopilot since his visit to Fox Tower. Because Kevin insisted on being so fucking vague, he’s not sure what has actually happened – whether Neil was arrested or detained or killed. Andrew goes through the motions of his day without actually processing anything. It takes two days for Bee to cross paths with him and insist that he join her in her office for a cup of hot chocolate.

Like always, Bee waits for Andrew to start talking first. She was his therapist back when the court first mandated that he be “controlled” and the only one in his long line of shrinks who Andrew ever liked.

The thing is, Andrew doesn’t have anything to say. He doesn’t know to to articulate the growing empty feeling inside him nor his confession that he’s been hooking up with one of his clients.

Betsy understands and offers to refill his mug.

“You better take it easy,” Abby warns. She moves to envelop Neil in a hug and he lets her; his joy at finally getting his stitches removed and the go ahead to play again must be infectious because she gives Neil a warm smile. “Go. They miss you.”

Wymack, Dan, and Kevin all hover over him during practice. They don’t let him scrimmage, but honestly it feels great just to have his racquet back in his hands. The two other freshmen, both of whom weren’t very close to Neil, refuse to look him in the eyes, now their natural blue. Matt’s enthusiasm, Renee’s support, and Allison’s offer to help him get rid of the last of his hair dye more than make up for it, though. When Neil’s finally allowed to play an easy scrimmage and successfully scores, even Aaron seems kind of happy for him.

Neil slowly works his sore muscles back from disuse; it’s upsetting how rusty he’s gotten after just a few weeks. Practices don’t seem long enough anymore and eventually Matt agrees to join in on his night training with Kevin, if only to make sure the two strikers don’t kill themselves. When Neil’s found doing push-ups in their dorm, though, he’s scolded.

“God, Neil, working yourself to exhaustion won’t help you heal any faster,” Matt tells him.

“I’m healed enough,” Neil says. “I need to get better for the next match.”

Matt sighs heavily. “I know, but it doesn’t do anything if you’re too sore to move. Give yourself a break and book another appointment with Minyard or something.”

Neil hesitates. He hasn’t talked to Andrew since before Baltimore, his number still not entered into Neil’s new phone. It wouldn’t have been hard to ask Kevin or Aaron for it, but the truth is that Neil’s afraid.

The kisses were supposed to mean nothing. Andrew had made sure to say so. That was the only reason why it was okay for Neil to continue them; because he knew it wouldn’t mean anything to Andrew when he eventually disappears at the hands of his father or the Moriyamas.

But Neil’s survived his father and Ichirou Moriyama is willing to invest in his playing. He has his whole life ahead of him and the startling revelation that maybe he cares more about Andrew than he should. Every time Kevin tried to bring up the massage therapist, Neil would use his many injuries as an excuse – the long list of contraindications he possesses would get him sent away anyways.

Now that he’s back on court, Neil can’t hide behind that defense. He rubs self-consciously at the scars on his face before Matt’s glare makes him stop.

“Yeah,” he eventually says. “I guess I should do that.”

Neil chose to stay at Palmetto. It’s too late to run away.

When Andrew sees Neil standing outside his office door as he heads in for his first appointment, he thinks he’s hallucinating.

Except it isn’t really Neil. Neil had black hair and brown eyes (and a shit-eating grin throughout the last few months). This man may have Neil’s bone structure and figure and awful clothing style, but his hair is auburn and his eyes icy blue. Scars riddle this man’s face and the nervous look reminds Andrew more of Neil during his first ever appointment.

“Andrew,” the man greets in Neil’s voice. Andrew walks right by him.

He sets up everything for his next client, pulling on his uniform, taking out the proper forms, and washing his hands. Andrew ignores not-Neil the entire time; in turn, not-Neil remains silently standing by the door.

Andrew checks the clock on the wall. He’s still fifteen minutes early. “Mind telling me why you’re here?” It isn’t a question.

Not-Neil runs his fingers through his hair in an action remarkably similar to the original. The movement pulls at the edge of his sleeves and Andrew’s eyes are caught by angry scars and burns along his hands and wrist. “I came to book an appointment?”

Andrew scoffs and hopes it doesn’t sound as bitter as it feels. “And why did it take so long?”

The shrug Neil gives him only serves to make Andrew angrier. “I had a bunch of bad injuries. Contraindications. You wouldn’t have let me anyways.”

“How long?” Andrew asks. At Neil’s blank look, he clarifies, “How long have you been back?”

“About a week?”

Andrew’s voice becomes deadly. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps some people actually gave a shit about where you were? That you weren’t in the FBI’s morgue?”

He’s furious with the bewildered expression Neil has. His eyes are wide like he hadn’t actually thought of it. Andrew is so, so mad but a small part of him only feels relief. He has to consciously unclench his hands; his short fingernails leave behind stinging marks.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” says Neil. “How did you know about the FBI?”

“I hate you,” Andrew tells him instead, turning away. “Get out.”

Neil doesn’t move. “I’m sorry,” he says, like it makes everything better.

Andrew’s fist slams into the nearest object – fortunately the cushioned massage table – and he turns to glower at Neil. “I would kill you,” he says, as if the days where he wondered if Neil was dead weren’t miserable. He doesn’t say, if it wouldn’t kill me too.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” repeats Neil, “because you always say you hate me. Now I’m wondering why I believed you.”

“I don’t lie.” Unlike certain others.

“You don’t always tell the truth, either,” Neil shoots back. Andrew does hate him, though.

Right now he hates how much he wants to touch Neil, as if to make sure he’s really here and not some trick of his imagination. “I told you to get out. I have an appointment soon,” Andrew says because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Neil’s here much longer.

“They aren’t here yet.”

“I knew that you were stupid, but I didn’t think you were this stupid.”

“Andrew –” Neil begins, but he’s interrupted by Andrew’s phone.

Tired of their conversation, he picks up immediately; Neil looks agitated but if he doesn’t have a distraction Andrew thinks he might actually strangle the idiot.

“Yeah, hi,” says the voice on the other end – the client who was supposed to be here five minutes ago. He sounds rushed, giving no time for Andrew to respond. “Sorry, I can’t come to the appointment. A car just rear ended me and the tow truck’s coming. I have to go. Thanks.” The call ends before Andrew can get a word in. He looks over at Neil, the glare on his face saying just how much he doesn’t believe this bullshit.

“What?” Neil says defensively. “I don’t have anything to do with this, I swear.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you? Like how you lied with your hair and eyes and the time when you said your father was low-level?”

“Who told you –” Neil sounds frustrated. “Look, Andrew, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Or that I was back. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Does it matter?” Andrew finds himself asking. It’s stupid, but for some reason Neil’s answer is important.

Neil looks surprised, before his features smooth. “Of course,” he says. “You said it was nothing, but you’re everything that matters.” It’s cringe-worthy, but it soothes Andrew somehow. He hadn’t realized that there was a tightness in his chest before, but suddenly it’s easier to breathe. “I wasn’t born as Neil Josten. Telling you my truths is a lot scarier than facing down my past.”

Andrew makes a decision and strides towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asks Neil once it’s apparent that Andrew’s walking past him.

“You said you came here for an appointment; there’s a free spot right now.”

“Oh,” Neil says. Before Andrew can exit the room, he adds, “You can stay.” Andrew turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow challengingly. Neil ignores him and moves to the massage table. “Can you close the door, though?”

Confused and annoyed, for once Andrew obeys. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Neil catches his eyes. First he pulls down his baggy pair of jeans, and after hesitating, his underwear. Andrew looks down in casual interest; he’s seen it all before, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the way Neil’s legs and what’s in between looks.

Finally Neil peels off his sweater, lifting the hem up and over his head like a girl. It’s funny how much more vulnerable removing his shirt makes him – after so long of Neil insisting that Andrew never see his torso, he understands what he’s being shown.

Scars cover the front of Neil’s chest, running down his stomach and sides; many are warped with age and Andrew thinks of what Neil had told him about his father. The burn that Andrew had seen previously on Neil’s shoulder continues over to his front, its clean lines giving him a horrifying inkling of what may have caused it. A huge patch of lighter skin, bumpy and distorted, runs along Neil’s left side, topped by the puckered flesh of what Andrew suspects is an old bullet wound. He goes to stand in front of Neil, eyes drinking in the sight, when Neil at last manages to wrestle his forearms free from the sweater’s sleeves. The sight of the raw burns catches Andrew’s attention.

“What happened?” he demands, reaching out his hand before stopping himself.

Neil answers his silent question by delicately resting the unmarred part of his arm against Andrew’s fingertips. “A dashboard lighter,” he says.

Andrew feels sick. “I’ll kill them.” He brings his other hand up runs his fingers as gently as possible over the wounds; Neil barely winces but it’s enough to make him stop.

“Too late,” says Neil. “My uncle executed them all.”

“Another criminal?”

“Yeah,” Neil sighs tiredly. He notices Andrew’s gaze alternating between his arms and his chest. “You can touch me. I trust you.”

How stupid can he be, thinks Andrew, but he reaches out to feel the edges of the bullet wound anyways. Other than an initial flinch – which Andrew immediately tries to withdraw his hand at and Neil subsequently protests to – he didn’t react to Andrew’s touch on these scars. They’re old enough that there’s no more pain.

Andrew pulls away from the burn on Neil’s shoulder and brings his hand up to his face instead. He traces the scars webbing across Neil’s cheeks with his fingers and Neil shivers.

“It was a sharp blade,” Neil says. “Lola always liked to keep her knives in good condition.”

“Do you still want to go through massage?” Andrew asks to distract himself from the violent rage he feels. He drops his hands.

“Yes. I think it’ll always be yes with you.”

“You’re shit at knowing your own limits,” Andrew tells him, referring to the night of the second Breckenridge game.

“And you’re always there to stop me when I need it.” Neil counters. He pushes his clothes onto the ground then leans back onto the table. “My arms still hurt but I’m good everywhere else.”

“Tell me to stop if you’re in pain,” Andrew says before reaching out for Neil’s shoulder.

“Honestly, everywhere will probably be a pain. I didn’t know I was so out of practice.”

Andrew snorts. “You’re such an Exy junkie. I’m surprised you managed to survive for so long without playing.” Neil just hums in response.

He’s working on Neil’s obliques when he asks, “Did the contacts have a prescription or were they just coloured?”

Neil pauses. “Coloured. Why?”

“Truth for a truth.”

“We’re still playing?” Neil asks.

“Yes. My turn, again, since you wasted yours,” Andrew says. Neil huffs. “Why did the FBI need you?”

Neil doesn’t answer for a while and eventually Andrew growls, “Give me the truth this time.”

“I had a good reason to lie,” Neil informs him. “They wanted me to tell them about my father, the Butcher of Baltimore.”

Andrew remembers seeing his name on the news, the man’s sudden death making it onto national reports. “Nathan Wesninski?”

Neil flinches. “Yes,” he sighs. “I’m Nathaniel.”

“You’re Neil Josten,” Andrew says as he moves to Neil’s thighs. “Striker for the Foxes and the best paying client I have.” The little laugh Neil gives before his entire body relaxes again makes Andrew smile. He’s glad that Neil’s eyes are closed. “Your turn.”

Neil hums as he thinks up a question. “Why do you work in massage therapy? I don’t think it’s for the people you meet.”

Andrew shrugs even though Neil isn’t looking. He makes Neil roll over before answering. “Bee suggested it. There was nothing better to do at Palmetto so I agreed.”

“You could have chosen Exy,” Neil says.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m stupid for you,” Neil offers and it’s so incredibly cheesy. Andrew hates him and the blush he can feel working its way onto his face.

He thinks about his next question and realizes that there’s only one thing he really wants to know the answer to. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, I told you it’s always yes,” Neil says. He turns around abruptly and sits up so he’s leaning back on his elbow below Andrew. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Andrew leans in, face close enough that it’s an obvious invitation. Without hesitation, Neil tilts his mouth up into Andrew’s, the curve of his lips just as he remembers. “You aren’t going anywhere,” Andrew breathes when they finally separate.

Neil pulls Andrew into a kiss and Andrew lets him. Exhaustion and muscle fatigue are hitting him hard, but all Neil wants to do is celebrate the Foxes’ last-second win against the Ravens.

“You’re such a junkie,” Andrew mutters into the space between their mouths once they finally separate.

Neil laughs breathlessly. “It was your idea for me to sub in as backliner.”

“After what you told me, I figured the best job for a runner like you is to cover Riko’s shots, because there’s no way in hell Aaron can do it.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually cared about the game,” Neil says, leaning down to place a kiss on Andrew’s jaw.

Andrew growls and moves so they’re kissing properly. “Of course not. Are you going to party with the Foxes or is it a yes?”

“Yes,” says Neil in the space between their lips. “They’re already used to me and you going off after a game.”

Andrew’s smug expression makes Neil smile as he’s led away.