spanglebangle:

@hazylucozade replied
to your post: Hey so I really want to write but I’m hitting a…

andrew and neil visit palmetto state a
few years after graduating? maybe sneak onto the roof?

Neil smiled from the doorway as he
watched Andrew saunter his way to the microphone setup by the computer running
the screen projection, amidst the wild applause of the hundreds of students
crammed into the lecture hall.

Andrew’s eyes flicked his way as he
clipped on the small microphone and tapped a few keys on the computer to load
up his presentation. Neil grinned back at him and offered a thumbs-up. Andrew didn’t
respond other than a quick huff that only barely got picked up by the microphone.
Then he turned back to face the excited crowd and waited for them to quiet
down.

“Hello,” he began in a neutral tone,
regarding them as if they were no more interesting or threatening than any
opposing strikers on the court. “My name is Andrew Minyard, and I’ve been asked
to participate in this alumni week event to talk about the degree and thesis I
completed here ten years ago. I will not be answering any questions about Exy,
the pro league or the Olympic team, and refuse to do any autographs or anything
of that nature – if you’re here for that, get out now.”

Neil covered a grin behind his hand at
the shocked silence that rang out from the crowd. A handful of sheepish
students skittered out the doors, looking embarrassed.

“Right,” Andrew said once they left. “Through
the Exy scholarship headed by the David Wymack Initiative, I majored in Criminology
with a focus on juvenile conviction and mental health, and minored in psychology.
My final year thesis was about the disproportionate convictions and harsher sentencing
of juveniles from the foster care system, and the prevalence of child abuse and
mental health issues in these people. I will be answering questions on these
topics at the end.”

Neil’s smile stayed firmly in place as he
watched Andrew give his lecture with an easy nonchalance, walking lazily to and
fro across the front of the lecture hall and clicking through his slides. His voice
was calm, his hands were relaxed, his eyes swept the room as if it were all so
easy for him to say. Only Neil knew the stress he’d been holding for the past
fortnight as he’d planned his talk, how little sleep he’d gotten the previous
night. Although he was far from harm and those dangers now, talking openly
about them still held power over his fears and nightmares. But he was calm and
unruffled, more professional than he ever was with press after games. Perhaps
more cold and removed than he had been in a long time, but the students didn’t
know him enough to recognise it as a sign of tension.

Neil was very proud.

When Andrew finished most of an hour later, the students
gave him a near standing ovation, a couple of whistles and whoops thrown in.
They seemed to enjoy his darkly sarcastic way of discussing their subject and
the painfully blunt delivery of awful statistics, and the quickly-skated-over
allegories of his own childhood. Neil watched Andrew blink up at them for a
solid minute, surprise in the perfect freeze of his body like a deer in
headlights. He glanced over at Neil, who nodded and gave him another thumbs up.

He watched Andrew give a jerky nod, an awkward “Thank you,”
and open the floor for questions. There weren’t all that many and soon he was
unclipping the microphone to more applause and heading Neil’s way. He caught
Neil’s sleeve on his way past and tugged him out of the corridors and away from
the students until they were in open air again. Neil watched him squint against
the sudden light, his eyebrows and mouth all scrunched up, his hair riffling in
the wind. He took a slow, deep breath and released it. He still had some pale,
milky-coffee freckles across his forehead and nose from their vacation to Spain
the previous month.

“Okay?” Neil asked quietly.

“Mmhmm. Could do with a drink, my throat’s sore.”

“Let’s see if the campus coffee house is still around then.”

Andrew grunted his approval and casually tangled their
fingers together as they walked.

“That was wonderful, by the way,” Neil made sure to tell him
as they got lost a little – new buildings, different trees, different paint
jobs, old buildings gone or remodelled, new sculptures and altered greens. This
was no longer their campus.

Andrew huffed, because he still had an issue with even
indirect praise, but squeezed Neil’s fingers anyway. “When do you have to give
the Exy talk?”

“About an hour.”

They managed to find the coffee house after a bit more
wandering, and secured a smoothie for Neil and some iced juice blend for
Andrew. Andrew seemed happy enough to stay there, watching out the windows with
their feet lightly nudging each other every few minutes, but Neil was getting
antsy. Andrew gave in with a sigh and allowed himself to be pulled towards the
Foxhole Court.

It rose up unapologetically still, as proud as ever. More so,
with the boom of Exy’s popularity in recent years and the increased funding PSU
had enjoyed with not one but three alumni on the US Olympic squad. There were
more food outlets and more merch stands, and Neil navigated through them in
wonder, as they no longer had access codes for the athletes’ entrance. It was
so blindingly orange and white Neil’s eyes started to burn.

They made their way to the lounge and Neil had to stop and
remind himself to breathe.

Dan’s tradition of putting up photos of the team had long
surpassed her tenure as captain, it seemed. One entire wall was chock-full of
snaps and candids of all the Foxes that had ever been. Neil stared in awe at
all the unknown faces smiling out at them – all lost causes given new hope and
new ambition, happy and surrounded by family. He drifted towards a particular
section in a daze, Andrew’s palm warm against his own.

There they were, his family. They all looked so young, so
coltish and wild. He had to smile at the ones of the twins; they looked so soft
and round to his eyes, knowing the hard, clean edges that had emerged in later
adulthood and the athletic profession acting on Andrew, and the way making
life-saving decisions under extreme pressure had tempered Aaron’s rough edges
into diamond self-confidence rather than bitter rage. He saw himself, so small
and young and skinny and afraid, then scarred and smiling and at ease with his
new life. It was startling to see such young,
unfinished versions of his family again. He’d gotten so used to them as they
grew up together, growing into their looks and confidence and finding more
permanent homes and lives and bringing partners and children and pets into
their family. God, he’d almost forgotten Allison used to wear those rhinestone
jeans (she’d scream if she saw them now), or that the twins had floppy emo
fringes, or Nicky’s high-waisted jean shorts and tiny tees, or Matt’s frosted
tips. He’d forgotten Kevin’s shiny tracksuits for morning runs and hangover
days, the clips and mini-bows Renee used to wear in her hair, Dan’s long-sleeve
shirts under dungarees.

He barely recognised those kids anymore.

Andrew squeezed his hand again to get his attention and
pointed at another wall that made Neil’s breath vanish altogether.

It was even more gloriously orange than the rest of the
stadium, with the neon windbreakers of every previous Fox in its own display
frame. Some of them, like Gordon 06 had
small black dots in the corners. His eyes found Josten 10 and Minyard 03 without
difficulty. He clutched Andrew’s hand hard enough to make his knuckles creak,
but Andrew didn’t pull away.

Those days felt a million years away, yet close enough in
this lounge that he half expected Kevin to come in and start stressing over
Riko, or Allison to be sitting popping gum on the couch, or Aaron to groan at Nicky
for the latest innuendo. He felt a breath away from the knowledge his
clock was ticking down and he was due to die in a few short months. He was a
blink from hair dye and clumsy coloured contacts.

Andrew said his name and tethered him back to the present –
where they lived together, played on two teams together, owned cats and an
apartment together, had cordial dinners with Aaron and Katelyn once a month,
let Kevin crash on their couch when he was in town, Skyped with Renee and
Allison, smoked out the bedroom window after sex, met up with Dan and Matt at
the weekends, cooked meals together, visited Nicky and Erik in Stuttgart over
the holidays, held interviews with the press every game, bickered over how best
to spend their extra earnings, watched TV on the couch with the cats, attended
charity fundraisers, kept each other sane in airports, chatted with Abby and
Bee and Wymack every few weeks, woke up together every morning warm and safe
and content…

“We’ve come so far,” Neil said thickly in response to Andrew’s
questioning look.

Andrew’s reply was a slow, fierce kiss that was as much
admission – yes, we have – as it was
a promise. His hands on Neil’s waist, pulling him as close as they could get,
their mouths knowing each other so completely after all these years of small
meetings and partings, heat in Neil’s stomach and chest and burning him right
down to his bones.

“You know,” a dry voice interrupted them, “I thought when
you assholes graduated I’d finished walking in on you sucking face in my
lounge.”

Neil turned and grinned cheekily at their grizzled bear of a
coach. “Just for old time’s sake.”

“Ha,” Wymack snorted, and gave them both a tight smile. “At
least you’re both in one piece. Like the lounge?”

“We love it,” Neil sighed. Andrew rolled his eyes but snaked
an arm around Neil’s hips.

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Coach,” Andrew
said. “I’m sure that’s a symptom of something sinister.”

“So are you, sunshine,” Wymack grinned back, looking at how
Andrew held Neil close to his side. “It’s good to see. Will you be keeping me
company while the junkies play around?”

“Obviously,” Andrew replied derisively. “Who else would be
willing to shit-talk all the latest movies with me?”

“Damn right. Neil, the spare gear for you is in the usual
place, and the team’s waiting on the court. Go show them how the Foxes are
Olympian material, huh?”

“Yes, Coach,” Neil smiled. He kissed Andrew’s temple, leaned
into Wymack’s quick hug as he passed, and made his way back to the beautiful wooden
majesty of the Foxhole Court once more.