“Ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way.”
“Thank you,” he finally said. He couldn’t say he meant thanks for all of it: the keys, the trust, the honesty, and the kisses. Hopefully Andrew would figure it out. “You wereamazing.“
but like how terrifying must it have been for andrew to experience this heart pounding fixation w someone like he never has before in his LIFE
and to come off of his meds and realize his feelings are real & unavoidable
falling back on his medication as an excuse for the strangeness in his heart, having that excuse ripped out from under him so all that’s left is neil staring and following and asking him for things
The first time Andrew saw Neil without his medication blurring his judgment, he thought, This could be a problem, but he did not take it seriously then.
Neil attaching vocab words onto furniture (bonus points for when he starts doing it at the court too)
counting off their workout reps in Russian
accidental introductions of new words via surprised shouts (usually rude ones snarled during heated games or practices) you can’t tell me andrew didn’t learn swears quickly
Andrew dumping his person onto Neil’s flashcard covered bed with a bored look and quizzing him
small study sessions at the back of the bus
some vocab drilling but mostly they talk about the area they’re passing through, or they might play car games–picture I spy
I like to think that they have more heart-to-hearts like the one in tkm, just Neil passing the time telling Andrew little stories of him and his mom. Or that during Andrew’s 5th year when the team is on the way home from distant away games Neil can’t help but reflect on what’s going to happen with Andrew leaving and he just needs to say something but there are too many foxes in the bus at that point
during exy games when they’re both on the bench, they take turns narrating the game (well, Neil narrates, and Andrew picks out mistakes the other goal keeper makes)
covert dirty talk there’s no getting around it
Andrew wanting to annoy/unnerve the more grating freshman so he picks up the habit of staring at them and talking to Neil about their weekend plans
kid gets back to his dorm later like, “do u think minyard’s out to get me?” “bro, maybe you shouldn’t be a dick to his cousin” “bro, I didn’t even start that” “…dude”
having alone time where they’re committed to only speaking with e/o in Russian:
imagine that they’re just hanging out on the roof: Neil’s head resting against Andrew’s thigh, one of Neil’s hands is holding a burning cigarette while his other is curled up near his face, thumb rubbing circles into Andrew’s knee cap
(they’re never deep conversations: Andrew mentioning what Bee is going as for halloween, Neil talking about potential players he and Wymack are scouting, Andrew reporting on his sparing lessons with Robin, getting up to date on their teammate’s bets, Neil filling in Andrew on the upperclassmen’s Real Life adventures)
It’s comfy and relaxed so they let their sentences lag. depending on the day they might be left unfinished for lack of energy
save for when they’re left unfinished because Neil can’t quite find the word that he’s looking for
Neil has a habit of squinting at his smoke trail when he forgets a word, a tail Andrew picks up on, smoothing his hand through Neil’s hair as he tries to fill in the blanks
It’s sickly hot on the day they’re supposed to play their first match of the season, a late summer heat that peels the cold morning away and sweats people out of their layers.
Neil’s mostly used to discomfort, so he puts his head down and gets on the bus. The rest of the foxes complain dramatically and threaten to strip until Wymack blasts the air conditioning and cuffs a few heads.
Everyone zips their sweaters off and ties their hair up, starting the laborious process of nest-making for the duration of the 9 hour drive to Cleveland. Every time Neil looks Andrew is aloof and pristine, like the sun isn’t any better at getting under his armour than anyone else.
If you’re looking properly, you can see sweat turning the ends of his hair up and darkening his temples. It’s a strange indignity that Andrew wears like a calculated choice.
Nicky presses his icy water bottle into the base of Neil’s neck, and he gasps, clutching for the source.
“He lives!” Nicky says. “I’ve been calling you for five minutes.”
“We’ve been on the bus for thirty seconds,” Neil snaps.
“Thirty seconds too long,” Nicky laughs, leaning over the back of his seat so his arms dangle over Neil’s lap. “You wanna come talk strategy with Kev?”
Neil meets Nicky’s bright eyes, overly conscious of Andrew at his back, mussed by the temperature. He feels buttery nostalgia for the three hours they spent talking on the way to Baltimore, teeth pulling his lip in the empty bus, opening doors and considering it a win when Andrew didn’t close them.
“We’ve been pouring over stats for two weeks,” Neil tells Nicky, purposefully looking out the window to avoid his gaze. “We’re walking in ready.”
“Ahh, you’d think that. But apparently we have ‘blind spots’ that need seeing to. So says her majesty.” Nicky smirks, nodding at Kevin over his shoulder.
“Is he vice captain?”
“No,” Nicky says, mouth already curling in satisfaction.
“Then tell him to fuck off.”
“With pleasure, Neil Josten,” Nicky says, overly dramatic, winking back at him as he wanders to Kevin’s seat.
“Are you finally sick of it?” Andrew asks, and Neil lets himself enjoy the thrum of satisfaction he gets whenever Andrew initiates things. He turns all the way around in his seat.
“Of exy? No. Of kevin, yes.”
Andrew’s cool eyes trip over the foxes and windows and coughing AC units, landing on Neil and settling. Neil feels a yank in his gut like someone caught him by the waist while he was running full speed.
“Give me your bag.”
The feeling ebbs in a distracted sort of way, and Neil frowns. “Why?”
Andrew looks away, eyelashes light and fine on his cheekbones when he blinks. Neil knows from experience that another five minutes of heat would have curled Andrew’s hair and flushed his cheeks and neck.
He wants to see that. Like if he could take Andrew off the bus and kiss him in the thick heat, it would fix the feeling in his stomach.
“I want something,” Andrew says simply.
Neil rolls his eyes, but stands anyway. “That’s new.” He sways with the bus as he wrestles his duffel bag from the overhead compartment, dropping it on the seat next to Andrew.
Andrew unzips the top halfway and peels back Neil’s meticulously packed layers. The bus nearly topples him, so he settles back in and watches Andrew work, charmed.
He seems to find what he’s looking for, and Neil sees a flash of black fabric and the blur of Andrew rising out of his seat and into the aisle.
“Where are you going?”
Andrew slides him an unimpressed look and walks to the bathroom installed in the back of the bus. Neil watches him go, wondering wildly if he’s supposed to follow him.
He glances back along the groove of the aisle and finds Kevin ignoring Aaron and Nicky to glare at him. Beyond him, Matt’s grinning at Dan as she talks one of the newcomers through a play, and Allison’s curled up with a sleep mask and Renee’s shoulder.
He sits back against the sun-hot window and lets the jerky motion of the road keep him alert. He looks back towards the closed bathroom door and forward again, curiosity shivering over him.
Andrew emerges a second later, and Neil’s mouth goes cottony dry.
He’s put on Neil’s shirt. It’s the one that goes high enough to cover the scars framing Neil’s collarbones when he’s wearing it, but it leaves his arms open. It was part of this layered ensemble that Andrew bought him over the summer, but he almost only wears it to sleep because it shows the thatched burns on his ribcage. It’s breezy and comfortable and it’s not the first time Andrew’s stolen it.
But he doesn’t usually wear it where people can see, with his sweaty hair pushed halfway back and his arms pink from the sun he caught on the roof yesterday.
He sweeps back into his seat and pulls one knee up to his chest, and Neil watches the orchestration of his muscles matching up and tensing.
Andrew’s finger enters his field of view, too close to focus on. “Get that look off your face.”
“Get my shirt off, then,” Neil says before he can clap a filter on it. Andrew splays his arm all over his lounging knee, and Neil can see a pale triangle of skin under his arm, which shouldn’t mean anything to him. It shouldn’t.
“I didn’t pack for 100 degrees,” Andrew says, voice mild.
“Good,” Neil blurts.“My clothes look really good on you.” He swallows, and Andrew blinks at him, a bored predator.
“That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard, Neil!” Nicky hollers from four seats up. Neil’s mouth pinches with annoyance. “I’ve fucked guys, and that’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No one wants to hear that,” Aaron says, putting in earbuds and shoving over to the far end of his seat.
“I thought it was relevant context,” Nicky argues, and Kevin smacks him in the back of the head.
The front of the bus devolves into chaotic conversation, and Neil looks back at Andrew.
“I was serious.”
“I know you were.” This would be where he took a drag from his cigarette, if this was their rooftop. This would be where he kisses him. Neil watches him with that secret in his mouth, and when Andrew looks back, he can tell he’s thinking the same thing.
“It will not be a regular occurrence,” Andrew says. “Your wardrobe is barely fit for one person.”
“Right.” Neil smiles right behind his teeth, where it doesn’t show on his face. “I’m willing to take the hit.”
Andrew regards him over the seat back. “Aren’t you always?”
Neil leans in and drags his eyes deliberately over the column of Andrew’s neck on the way to his face. “I want to kiss you.”
Andrew tilts his head. “I can’t help you.”
Neil takes this without complaint, but he stays folded over the back of the seat. “This is enough,” he says, a foot between them, Andrew’s broad shoulders holding his shirt taut across them.
“Shouldn’t you be obsessing over the court by now?” Andrew asks, cleanly sidestepping Neil’s attention.
“It is a court,” Neil says, smiling. “It’ll still be there in nine hours.”
“And yet you drag us along three times a day to get your fix.”
“No one asks you to come.”
Andrew gives him a look and Neil huffs, looking at the ceiling like it’ll stop the thrill from showing on his face.
“But I’m glad you do.”
“You’re in a sharing mood today,” Andrew says, like he’s commenting on an unfortunate traffic jam.
Neil reaches out to finger the collar of his shirt, and he feels a hollow jerk go through Andrew when his knuckles brush his neck. “It must be the heat.”
“This,“ Neil flicked his finger to indicate the two of them, “isn’t worthless.” “There is no ‘this’. This is nothing.” “And I am nothing,” Neil prompted. When Andrew gestured confirmation, Neil said, “And as you’ve always said, you want nothing.” Andrew stared stone-faced back at him.”
Christmas to Andrew Minyard is chocolate shaped like a bearded man, cold weather, and an excuse for people to preach about love while practicing intolerance. He can’t say he’s a fan of any of the above. Even the chocolate – he’s more of an ice cream kind of guy.
He hasn’t celebrated it in years. At a few of his foster homes he tolerated the trees shedding leaves and glitter and the lights that threatened to give him a headache if he looked too long, at Cass’ he’d even help put them up if she needled him long enough (he wasn’t much help, given she was taller than him, but he was an extra, almost willing pair of hands). The cleaners at Fox Tower wrapped tinsel around the bannisters but his room remained untouched, despite Nicky’s best attempts at coercion. (“Andrew, the tinsel only cost a dollar!” “These lights change colour!” “It’s only a small tree!”) (Andrew had never been impressed by Nicky’s persistent energy, optimism, or continued faith.)
Songs professing what a magical time it was or movies reminding you how wonderful family is are ignored and turned over. Andrew wouldn’t even admit to appreciating a break in the monotony of class and practice.
But maybe there’s something to it.
Maybe.
The cats fighting baubles on a small plastic tree was at least mildly entertaining until the noise threatened to keep Andrew awake. Neil plying Andrew to let him put the small tree up with reindeer-shaped chocolates and an assortment of ridiculously-flavoured candy canes was annoying, but a better bribe than Neil’s usual fare, and held a faint sense of humour. Wrapped presents coming in the mail was definitely infuriating, as were the colourful jumpers they contained, but with some catnip the cats were persuaded to open the presents for him, and they certainly enjoy the jumpers as blankets.
The cold is unforgivable, but at least it’s to the point that even Neil admits it’s cold and turns the heating up. He goes so far as to come back from practice one night with a large, fluffy blanket with a repeating pattern of candy canes, gingerbread houses, and stockings.
He looks at it, as though for the first time, as he wraps Andrew in it like a burrito. “Oh, hey, do you like gingerbread?”
Andrew doesn’t interrupt the glare to say, “Yes.”
The next day Neil comes back with premade kits and suggests they decorate gingerbread houses together.
“This isn’t becoming a twelve days of Christmas thing,” Andrew says, and eats a corner of a gingerbread wall.
“Huh? Is that about buying gifts or something?” Neil asks, ignoring Andrew’s blatant attempt at annoying him.
“And human trafficking,” Andrew says, squeezing some icing directly into his mouth.
“Then no. I just saw them,” Neil shrugs. He’s becoming used to having money that can be spent without worry.
“You planned this,” Andrew accuses without any real heat. Neil’s poking his tongue out slightly to focus on icing a window.
He should have known Neil would take that as a challenge.
The next day’s pretty innocuous, he goes out and comes back half an hour later with dinner. Andrew doesn’t comment, but levels Neil an accusatory look.
“Hey, I brought dessert too,” Neil says, as though dessert forgives all sins. And maybe it does.
On the fourth day, Neil digs out some Santa hats they’d been given when they’d been to Matt and Dan’s for Christmas the previous year. (Now the older Foxes are starting to have children, and Christmas is less for their so-called found family and more for their offspring, no matter how young and unappreciative.) Neil tugs one down over Andrew’s eyes, then pulls it up to right it. The fluffy white ball dangles enticingly, and Sir jumps up to bat at it.
“If I get scratched, you’re paying the hospital fees,” Andrew warns Neil, who’s still definitely in his personal space.
“It’s your money,” Neil replies, which isn’t strictly true. He retrieves Sir though.
The fifth day is the 23rd, and even Neil is aware that’s the last day shops will be open. He returns with a bag that he makes a big deal of not showing Andrew and then puts on a Christmas movie from a DVD. “You’re gonna like this one,” he says. “It reminded me of you.”
It’s Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
“Did Nicky make the joke?” Andrew asks, as soon as he sees the title card.
“Yup,” Neil replies, and takes a small mint candy cane from Andrew’s stash. Insult to injury. “We’re still watching it though.”
It’s not the worst movie he’s ever seen.
On Christmas Eve, they’re doing some kind of promotional thing with the members of their team that don’t have prior obligations. Neil has some garishly bright hat with a bobble on top, and he wraps a matching scarf around Andrew’s neck before they leave. “Don’t pretend you’re not cold. I can see your hands turning blue from across the room.”
Andrew glowers as he puts gloves on.
The kids at the event love Neil’s hat. It’s almost endearing, but they’re too loud.
The seventh day of Neil’s makeshift Christmas is Christmas Day. “You know you’ve got your twelve days wrong,” Andrew says. “Aren’t you the one with the Math degree?”
“I’m sure you care so much about the traditions of Christmas,” Neil says.
“Yes,” Andrew replies. “And if we have turkey, I’ll gut you and that will be my meal for tonight.”
Neil smiles, “Funny you should mention dinner.”
It’s not.
“I found Christmas ice cream. I figured that would do for dinner.”
Sometimes Andrew can remember why he hasn’t yet murdered Neil.
The next day, Neil checks his phone and says, “What is boxing day?”
“Ask Matt,” Andrew says.
Neil snorts. “So it’s about fighting to the death. Probably your favourite holiday, then.” He tries to swing out of bed, but hisses, “Fuck me, it’s cold.”
Andrew can feel it in the tip of his nose. “Turn on the heating then.”
“Nope, we’re staying here,” Neil replies and burrows into the blankets. “I’m putting my feet on you,” he says, and does.
“What are you going to do about the eighth day of Christmas?” Andrew asks. Not because he cares.
“I’m your present,” Neil mumbles.
“Shit present.”
On the ninth day, they have to go back to practice. There’s almost no point, as they’ll stop again around New Year, but their Coach says something about “Pros” meaning “professional” as though that’s new, and everyone turns up, bleary-eyed and in new outfits.
Neil hands him a black jumper with a ridiculous Christmas-themed pun. “It’s not Christmas anymore,” Andrew reminds him.
“No, but I forgot that I’d gotten it,” he says. “I got it in your favourite colour.”
Andrew wears it to practice. At least he gets to take it off to put on his goalkeeper gear. Neil wears the shit-eating grin for the whole of practice.
On the tenth day, Kevin turns up at their doorstep. Andrew looks at Neil accusingly, but he shrugs. “I was in town,” Kevin says.
“Merry Christmas,” Neil says.
“You’re three days late,” Kevin replies with a frown.
After an hour or so of what Dan would have called ‘catching up’, Neil swerves the conversation to the new Exy gear the local dedicated shop has and offers to take Kevin. He doesn’t offer to take Andrew.
“Peace is definitely a theme of Christmas,” Neil says to Andrew quietly. “Right?”
Andrew raises his eyebrows.
“You’re welcome,” Neil says, and leaves.
On the eleventh day, Andrew says he’s looking forward to this being over. Neil smiles and puts King in his lap. “I’m regifting.”
Andrew supposes the cat is warm. He doesn’t argue.
It’s the last day of Neil’s attempt at Christmas, and Andrew isn’t sure, but Neil might be the type to have a triumphant finale. Somehow, though, schedules have aligned so that Andrew has to meet with their team’s long-suffering dietician, and Neil has the day to himself.
When Andrew gets back, though, all that’s changed is that the small Christmas tree is gone. Andrew glances at where it was, and Neil shrugs and says, “It’s the last day of Christmas, right?”
“Are you claiming that your gift to me is this being over?” Andrew wouldn’t be disappointed, but there’d be something.
“Of course not,” Neil says. He throws a gift in garishly bright paper covered in cats wearing Santa hats, which Andrew catches, but reluctantly.
Andrew stares at Neil.
“Open it,” Neil replies.
It’s a DVD for a film whose name is obscured by the pictures of candy on the front.
“Matt says I’m bad at gifts,” Neil says.
“You are.“
“That’s unfair. I just ran out of ideas after the second day.”
Andrew stares at Neil, and puts the DVD box down slowly. Into the trash can.
Nothing but My Aching Soul 