Neil, Wymack called him, even when he looked like this, even with his father’s face and his father’s eyes and the Moriyamas’ number on his face. Neil, Wymack called him, and more than anything Neil wanted it to be true. He stopped fighting to get free; the hands that had been trying to wrench Wymack’s arms off him now held on for dear life.
“Help me,“ he said through gritted teeth.
“Let me,” Wymack shot back, so Neil closed his eyes.
He’s watching tapes from their last game with one sweating hand flat on the desk, the other prodding the rewind button over and over again until the loops stop being anything but cheering and colour. Their lines are sloppier with more people in them. He can see where they’re stretched too thin and where the strikers are overcompensating.
He can see the tension in their ranks even though they’re trying to pull together, like they’re slapping a bandaid on a broken leg.
“Knock knock.”
Wymack looks up to find Abby hefting food through the doorway like some sort of dream. She unpacks armfuls of it onto the table and gives him a private smile when he catches her eye over the wavering paused TV.
“That for me?”
“Well this would be a hell of a show if it weren’t,” she laughs, piling a wrapped burger on top of a plastic container of caesar salad.
“Didn’t want to assume,” he grumbles, reaching for one of the burgers. She slaps his hand away.
“Wash your grubby hands first.”
He raises both hands in surrender, muttering, “you let the kids eat finger food with blood on their hands but I can’t hold a burger without scrubbing down—“
“David,” Abby interrupts pointedly. “The faster you clean the faster you eat.”
He rolls his eyes on the way to the bathroom and then rolls them all the way back to his office, keeping his affection in a headlock. Abby’s sitting with her legs crossed and her food unwrapped when he gets back, and he spies two ketchup packets lined up beside his burger, just how he likes it. He’s biting on a smile when his phone rings.
Abby startles, Wymack fumbles in his pocket, Neil’s name blinks up at him.
“Can’t you eat lunch at noon like a normal person, Josten?”
There’s a shifting noise, like paper sliding over the receiver, and then Neil says, “Coach?”
Wymack frowns at Abby across the room. She gives a little questioning head shake with her eyebrows raised, perfectly poised to be upset. He hates that they’re always bracing for fucking heartbreak around here.
“Yeah, Neil. Talk to me.”
“Uh, yeah, listen. Andrew might have killed someone.”
Wymack closes his eyes. Breathes in for three long beats, holds his hand up when he hears Abby shifting to her feet. “What do you mean might have? And think about the words you’re about to say to me, Neil, because if you try to cover Andrew’s ass I’ll get real impatient real fast, understand?”
You know? I didn’t realize until my sister read the books that Wymack must’ve carried Neil up to his apartment.
Do not imagine Wymack, his face a thundercloud, opening the passenger door and easing Neil out with the gentlest hands, the duffel slung over his shoulder and Neil’s face tucked into the crook of his neck.
Even passed out, Neil is hissing in pain and trying to curl in on himself for protection.
Do not imagine Wymack whispering reassurances in his gruff voice: “it’s ok Neil, it’s just me, it’s Wymack, you’re safe, you’re with me, I got you.”
He doesn’t know if it’s helping, but Neil quiets down and lets him carry him inside.
Do not imagine how small Neil must look, like a broken child, in Wymack’s arms, those same arms that have pulled his Foxes together and held them steady over and over, and will continue to do so as long as they need him.
Wymack’s heart is shaking with barely restrained fury but his hands are careful as he lays Neil out on his couch, cradling the back of his head as he sets him down.
“I want my subs at the wall cheering them on, but if you trip up a referee, I will cut you.”
“Watch me beam with pride. It’s not your job to take care of yourself anymore.”
Wymack sliced a hand across his throat and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Neil hoped he was right in translating it as “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Do you have any idea how much I hate coming home and finding you in my apartment?”
Wymack only recruited athletes from broken homes. His decision to turn the Foxhole Court into a halfway house of sorts was nice in theory, but it meant his players were fractured isolationists who couldn’t get along long enough to get through a game.
“Are you done wasting my oxygen yet?”
“Kevin, wake that dingbat without getting punched in the face.”
“You have five seconds to get your retarded psycho ass to my apartment! You even think about telling me no and I swear to god I’ll throw Kevin’s contract down the garbage disposal.”
“Your opinion has been noted and dismissed,” Wymack said. “Anything else, or are you going to start signing stuff?”
“I am going to drop you off at the dorm and spend the rest of the day drinking. Damage control can wait until tomorrow.”
“Kevin, you’re out if your hand so much as itches. Don’t be stupid tonight.”
“Coach Wymack was the only one I could think of turning to, and he didn’t disappoint me.”
Wymack snapped his fingers in front of Andrew’s face, trying to get Andrew to look at him instead of Neil.
“Damn it all to hell. Hemmick! You were supposed to wake them up ten miles ago.”
“Did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? It’s about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than anyone else wanted to give you.”
“We saw their files,” Wymack said. “We chose you.”
“Breaking news: I don’t care.”
Neil wasn’t quite ready to face Andrew yet and he didn’t want to deal with this teammate’s curiosity over his prolonged absence, so he went to Wymack’s apartment instead.
“When I said Abby and I would look out for you, I didn’t mean you should pick a fight with Riko on national television,” Wymack said. “Should I have spelled that out beforehand?”
and my personal favorite for last
“God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can’t have nice things.”
this has probably been in my inbox for over a month D: im the worst
it only happens three times before wymack, through sheer force of will, just chooses to stop walking in
it’s not that he always knows when the two of them are making out it’s that he just one day was like “i’m never walking in on them again” and he hasn’t
but the three times he does are a goddamn shit show
the first time is during summer practices after baltimore
it’s just outside the stadium actually
he’s not walking in he’s walking out
he thought he was safe and that andrew and neil were still in the changeroom
nope
they’re out here, leaned against the maserati, andrew’s hands up the back of neil’s shirt, neil’s finger’s twisted deep in andrew’s hair
wymack just sighs heavily but he figures, he’s seen worse, he averts his gaze and walks to his car a few spots away from andrew’s car
and then neil moans
like loud enough for wymack to hear him??? good god these are his children
he mumbles “i don’t get paid enough for this” and yells back at them “get that away from me or go get forms for the marathon”
neil breaks away to yell “sorry coach” through a smile and wymack thinks he’ll have his peace now but andrew growls and pulls neil back in for another kiss
wymack emails neil confirmation that he signed them both up for the marathon before the hour’s over
Nothing but My Aching Soul 