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Eden’s Twilight is very loud.
The bass of the music feels like it’s crushing the sides of Neil’s head, and the amount of people moving around on the dancefloor makes the whole building feel like a ship rocking side-to-side on a summertime sea.
A bad taste is forming in Neil’s mouth, and he doesn’t want to be in this too-hot club at all, but he’s already here. He had agreed to come purely because he wanted to prove Andrew wrong and to make it so the blond wouldn’t break into his things anymore. That was the deal—Neil spends the night with them here, at Columbia, and Andrew doesn’t go through his possessions.
He knew it was stupid to agree to the invitation when he did, but he still really hates his past self for doing so. There’s nothing to be done now, though. Neil just has to survive the night.
Which is proving to be difficult already. He and Andrew had just returned with the second round of drinks for the table and the drugs Andrew and his lot had acquired from the restaurant have made a reappearance.
“Cracker dust,” Nicky catches his eye in the flashing lights. He tears the packet with his teeth, and he shakes it slightly at Neil. “It doesn’t taste bad and the rush it gives you is worth any discomfort.”
He’s obviously asking if Neil is still sure about not having any, and Neil blinks blankly at Nicky. “Drugs are stupid.”
Andrew smacks his lips after swallowing his sip of his drink, and Neil brings his eyes over to him. There’s a cold smile on his face as he says, “Ouch. Harsh of you.”
“If you’re expecting an apology, forget it. You’re all being idiotic.”
Interlocking his fingers, Andrew leans forward and ponders aloud, “Is your spine the spine of the righteous? Are you trying your best to step on my toes because you’re feeling the tragic weight of the holier than thou?”
“Righteousness is for people who don’t know any better,” Neil replies, and Andrew looks as though he’s about to speak again but Nicky beats him to it.
“Easy, easy,” He says, placing shots in front of everyone. Neil gets one with soda, and he stares down at it and then returns his eyes to Nicky when the man adds, leaning back, “The dust isn’t bad—it just helps the night go faster. It’s not like Kevin would risk his future for a night out, Neil.”
Neil looks at Kevin out of the corner of his eye, and he questions, “What future? His career with skiing?”
Aaron snorts, and the dark look Neil gets from Kevin is so black Neil thinks Kevin is about to jump him, but the Striker stays seated and instead just grips his shot tightly. Nicky lets out a quick breath of air and says, “Jesus.”
Neil looks back to Nicky at the curse, and he just flicks his hand toward Neil’s soda shot. “Don’t dust with us if you really don’t want to, then, just drink with us. Down the hatch on three.”
Neil knows arguing would be pointless, so he just grabs his shot and looks down at it. On one, he thinks about how dehydrated he feels and how his mouth is too dry, and on two, he imagines himself literally anywhere else, and on three, he downs his shot.
He notices it’s too sweet immediately. It’s too ripe at his tongue, eating at the tastebuds, and it burns down his throat, scorches a way down into his stomach and, most likely, up into his brain to drug him to the heavens and back.
Fuck. Fuck.
Neil struggles with Andrew when they wrangle, but he can’t make his limbs move the way he wants, and the man manages to pry his eyes open to check his pupils. Neil can feel the drug setting in, and he can feel nothing and everything simultaneously.
There’s a pit settling in his stomach, and it’s anxious and cold. Sludge is clogging the way his bones move, and his limbs feel weak and light. Air is in his head, and Neil feels nauseous. How could he let this happen? How stupid is he?
He gets shoved over to Aaron, and he gets shoved down the stairs, and he gets shoved to Nicky (and there’s this sickening, this terrifying, this horrifying, this disgusting, press of lips and Neil is going to kill him and them and make someone burn) and then he gets shoved to Andrew.
And he hates this feeling of being weak. He can’t stab Andrew as he gets interrogated about his money and the possibility of him being a mole and a Raven for Riko because he can barely stand, and the rage is simmering under his skin, and it’s painful, and Neil is going to strangle Andrew.
Neil tries to reach for his neck as he steps away, but he can’t get off the wall and Andrew disappears into the crowd. Everything spins. Nicky finds him again, and poison is at the back of his throat.
﹎
This bed is unfamiliar, is the first thing Neil notices. His head is unfamiliar, and this dragging feeling at the back of his eyes is too as he peels them open and stares around the room which is, surprising no-one, unfamiliar.
The arm around his waist is familiar, but his mother is dead, and Neil can’t—he doesn’t understand—and he manages to croak, “Mum?”
“Not quite,” Is huffed behind his neck, amused, and violence is suddenly very, very needed.
Neil brings his elbow back straight into Nicky’s chest, and he lurches upwards in the bed to get away from his warm body. Dizziness meets him immediately, and the urge to vomit is thick, but throwing up is a secondary issue and the one at hand is that Neil needs to fucking gut Nicky.
“Hey!” Nicky says, holding his palms upwards as Neil snaps his head over to him. He smiles, nervous. “Calm down—”
Neil brings his fist straight down into Nicky’s nose, and the crunch that sounds is so electrifying it makes way for more anger. Nicky shouts out and his face jerks to the side, and Neil uses the heavy boots he’s still wearing to leave dark bruises in Nicky’s side.
The force of his hits causes Nicky to slam into his bedside table, and the next punch Neil lands on Nicky’s face reminds him of last night. The feeling of weakness, that part inside of him that had began to rot when Nicky had shoved his tongue down his throat, and the pounding lights and Andrew’s smugness and the humiliation of the whole event.
Nicky shouts out something like relax, and that ignites such rage Neil doesn’t want to know what his expression looks like. There’s hatred for this man because Nicky doesn’t even seem to know why Neil is so angry right now—he doesn’t realise what he did was wrong, and Neil hates that and wants to carve out a hole in Nicky and force some bleeding fucking guilt in there so heavy it carries him to the grave.
The door slams open, though, and hands grip his ankles and yank him off the bed. Neil careens into the floor, and he looks up just in to avoid a hook from Aaron. He rolls over and brings his knee straight up into Aaron’s gut, and he gets a pained grunt in return.
He feels like he’s on fire. Sweat sticks to his skin like another layer and there’s a roaring in his ears, and Neil moves to his feet quickly. Things spin for a second, but he blinks it away and grabs the cup of water on the bedside table.
Aaron is standing back up when Neil turns to face him again. “What the fuck—” Aaron starts, but Neil interrupts him by stepping forward and smashing the glass straight over his head. Water dunks down onto him and the floor, and Aaron yells and stumbles backwards, out the door of the room, and Neil unplugs the lamp and follows him out, footsteps storming and loud.
He catches Aaron’s eyes just as the man stumbles at the top of the stairs, and there’s vivid confusion in his gaze, and Neil is burning. He throws the lamp over his shoulder, and it slams straight into Aaron’s chest and he topples down the steps and Neil doesn’t waste a second.
He has no idea where Andrew or Kevin are, but he doesn’t care. At all. Neil races down the steps in a much more stable manner than Aaron, who is laying at the bottom and groaning and holding his head, the lamp shattered around him. Good.
“Fuck you,” Neil says to him as he heads out the house quickly, and he doesn’t hear whatever Aaron moans after him.
The sun outside nearly blinds him, and Neil has to stop moving to get his body back in order. He presses a hand to the door frame and wobbles a bit, and he tugs in a breath, and he squints and then he decides to leave a welcome home gift for Andrew and Kevin and vomits straight onto their doormat.
He stays doubled-over for a heartbeat, but he knows he shouldn’t linger. Neil wipes his mouth and takes a step forward, and he goes to run in some random direction, but his eyes catch on the houses’ mailbox.
Neil feels like he hasn’t done enough to the cousin’s yet. He stares at the mailbox and then turns and, soldier-like, stomps back into the house. Aaron is still on the ground, laying face-down now.
Ignoring him, Neil grabs a chair from the kitchen table and then carries it back outside with him. He’s careful not to tread on his vomit, and he gets back to the mailbox and then repeatedly hits it with the chair.
The wood holding the box snaps easily, and when the mailbox itself smashes into the lawn, Neil brings the chair down on it, bashing continuously until the seat is chipping and creaking and the mailbox is positively slaughtered.
He drags in a breath, puffing and drained, and then he looks around. Someone in the house across from him is staring out the window, mouth gaping. Neil flips them off and then looks Andrew’s rubbish bin, which is settled in the driveway, and he pelts the chair towards it.
Said chair slams into the bin, and woodchips fly as one of the legs snap off. The bin falls to the side and everything inside slides out and splatters all across the driveway, where Andrew and Kevin will have to park.
Satisfaction is alighting him. Neil coaxes in another gasp of breath, and then he turns and runs. It’s time to go back to Palmetto.
﹎
Wymack has been staring at him for a few minutes.
He’s seated on his armchair and Neil’s on the couch, so they’re practically across from each other. The man had been questioning when Neil had arrived, but now he’s a little quiet, Neil having finished explaining what had occurred this morning.
“And then you…decimated…their mailbox?” Wymack murmurs, blinking slowly.
Neil brings one shoulder up in a shrug. “Yes.”
His coach stares at him, and he looks confused and wildly troubled. His eyes are pinched in the corners and Wymack’s mouth is half-open as if a word is forming. He looks away and runs a hand down his face, and he glances back at Neil, and asks, “But…why?”
Neil shrugs again. “I was angry.”
Truth is, he still is so. The rage is eating away at his soul and all he can think about is how hard he wants to punch Andrew. There’s slight happiness, though, because Neil knows he must have somehow ruined Andrew’s day by effectively ruining a bit of his house.
Him and his lot still aren’t back from Columbia yet, which Neil expected. They probably have to fix the mess Neil left for them and visualising one of them having to clean up his vomit sparks that wicked part inside of him.
Wymack stares at him and looks away again. Neil can’t decide if the man is trying not to laugh or if he’s trying to keep his sanity. He watches as Wymack gets up and heads to the kitchen, and he’s pretty sure he’s fixing himself a drink. Neil glances down at his hands and starts picking at his nails, and he takes deep breaths.
He’s about to ask if he can shower, but a single, strict knock at the door makes him get to his feet and swing around. Wymack steps out of the kitchen and holds a hand up to Neil, murmuring, “Easy,” before he heads to open it.
The sight of Andrew behind the door makes Neil’s seething anger go haywire, and he’s stepping forward, body out of his control. There’s a flash of something dark on Andrew’s face, but Neil’s too hazy to focus on it.
Last night was horrible. The gaps in his mind make it more so, as some things he can’t even remember, but the one thing he does recall is that terrible, cold feeling of weakness. Of not being able to fight back.
“Have a nice stroll—” Andrew starts, halting just in front of Wymack, who’s closing the door. He doesn’t get to finish.
Neil smashes his fist into Andrew’s face so hard he almost topples over, the man maintaining his footing only by Wymack catching him with a surprised sound. The satisfaction feeds into his veins, but Neil isn’t done yet.
Wymack goes to speak, but Neil is too quick and doesn’t want to let Andrew fight back. He swings a foot under Andrew’s, and the blond flies out of their Coach’s grip and down to the ground on his side. He thumps into the carpet and Neil snarls, “Fuck you,” before he leans down and punches Andrew so hard his nose cracks and blood explodes from it.
His knuckles are screaming and searing at this point, but Neil doesn’t mind. Wymack shouts, “Jesus!” and Andrew’s hands fly up to his nose, and Neil could grin.
Instead, he just states, “Fucking cunt,” before nailing his boot right into Andrew’s crotch.
The guttural sound that escapes Andrew almost makes Neil laugh, but he just allows himself a smile as Wymack shoves him away as if to stop him from any further attack. Neil lets himself be moved, and he keeps his eyes on Andrew.
The goalkeeper now has both hands down to his crotch, and his eyes are closed, and his teeth are gritted, and he’s in obvious pain. It’s an amazing sight to see. He’s even hyperventilating.
Neil looks away from Andrew, and he meets Wymack’s eyes. The man looks gobsmacked, and Neil lets his anger fuzz away. He drags in a breath, and he lets it out loudly, reassuring Wymack with, “I think I’m done now.”