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Neil spent the day laying in bed, like just about every day before it. King had curled up in his arms, purring while he scratched behind her ears, feeling like he was drowning out the soft music that was playing throughout the room. It was probably something that Andrew liked, because he’d put it on before leaving for the day, and Neil hadn’t bothered with it other than to confirm he was still listening. It was better than silence - anything was better than silence.
He felt like a stranger in his own home. The only reason he knew he was petting King was because her fur was fluffier and longer, no doubt getting all over the blankets Neil had curled up under. Sir wasn’t as cuddly, either, but she kept coming in and jumping on the bed to make sure things were okay. It had been a long time since Neil had admitted to himself that he wasn’t fine, but he felt as though every other instance paled in comparison to now. Now, when the only thing he could make out were some fuzzy shapes and an odd patch of light. Everything else was dark.
All it had taken was a broken strap, a helmet flying loose, and a rough push. That was all it took for Neil to feel like his entire life was taken away from him. He could barely remember that one of the things Andrew told him after he’d woken up, caught in a panic because he couldn’t see, was that his uncle had pulled through somehow and he didn’t have to worry. That things were taken care of, and they’d figure it out, together. But Neil’s world still came crashing down piece by piece.
He could never play again.
When everything else had crumbled to the ground, he still had exy to hold onto. He’d chosen it after his mother’s death, clung to it his freshman year at Palmetto, and made it his life when he made the deal with Ichirou. But now he couldn’t play at all because he needed to see to play, to dodge, to score, to...well, to do anything. Neil may be alive, but he sure didn’t feel like he was living. Laying in bed for a majority of every day most certainly wasn’t, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t train, he couldn’t read, he couldn’t watch TV. He couldn’t cook, he couldn’t go outside without someone there to help him. And Neil didn’t feel like doing any of those things, anyway.
Around him, though, life went on. Andrew was still signed with their team, so he still went to practice routinely and played in games. Things around their apartment had changed, though: Andrew fed the cats, made dinner every night, cleaned the place. Usually they shared those responsibilities, but it went unspoken that Neil couldn’t do that anymore. At least, not for a while. The doctors had said there was hope Neil could get his sight back due to him being able to see light, so he’d…just have to hold out until then.
It had already been a month in the dark. Neil wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
Andrew announced his presence with a knock on the door. Neil had heard him jangling his keys in the hallway earlier, but couldn’t muster up the energy to say anything. He continued lying where he was, letting go of King when she hopped towards Andrew, but managed to lift his head so that Andrew wouldn’t think he was completely out of it. He was almost sure he could see some kind of movement in the darkness, probably some light moving around Andrew’s form, which he hoped was progress towards getting his sight back. At the start, he could barely make out any light.
The edge of the mattress dipped as Andrew sat down. “We’re getting food.”
“Takeout?” Neil asked, probably sounding too hopeful.
“No.”
Figures. Andrew had been trying to drag him out of bed for days now, but without much success. At least Neil could muster up the energy to clean up. “I’m not hungry.”
“I’m hungry. And I want company,” Andrew said, reaching to push some of Neil’s hair off his forehead.
“I won’t be able to read the menu.”
“I’ll order for you.”
Neil couldn’t help the slight huff of defeated laughter. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise,” Andrew replied, getting off the bed. Neil heard the closet door squeak open and something land near the bed. “Put that on.”
Shoving the blankets away, Neil sat up and reached for where he was sure the clothes had landed. When he found them, he was pretty sure that they were his pair of sweatpants and one of Andrew’s hoodies, which was just a different variation of what he was currently wearing. At least Andrew was generous enough to let Neil keep stealing his hoodies for the time being.
After getting dressed, he managed to get up and follow Andrew out of the bedroom, shuffling his feet to make sure to not accidentally step on one of the cats. Not that it mattered, because they jumped out of the way every time his feet got close, but Neil had already crashed into so many things in their place. He didn’t want to risk crashing into them, too.
“Shoes,” Andrew said, dropping them right in front of him. Neil knelt down to pull them on each foot and lace them up, taking the offered hand that was waved in his face and blocked the light of the lamp in their front hallway. Their electricity bill would have to be horrible this month because of all the lamps that stayed on so Neil could move around on his own.
Andrew held his hand as they walked down the hallway and into the underground parking lot. Winter had made the days shorter, so once the car was moving, Neil had no idea where they were going. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to deal with the street lamps and laid his head against the window, the hum of the engine easily putting him into a doze. He only jerked awake when the car stopped moving, hearing Andrew get out of his side and walk around to open the passenger’s side door.
The moment the door was opened, Neil took in a sharp breath. He knew where they were, and it wasn’t a restaurant. “Andrew,” he snapped, looking to where he hoped Andrew was standing. “Why?”
“You’ve been wasting away for weeks,” Andrew snapped back. “Get out. We’re going.”
“I can’t,” Neil said through gritted teeth. He flinched when Andrew leaned in to unbuckle his seatbelt, then took his hands and pulled him out of the car.
“You’re going to try,” Andrew said, leading Neil towards the court.
Despite the fluttering feeling in Neil’s chest telling him to run or say ‘no’, he didn’t. He let himself be pulled along by Andrew, who was courteous enough to warn Neil about the stairs before they got to them. Because it was dark outside, Neil had no idea where they were going, relying on his memory of the court stadium to tell him where they were. He knew after walking up the steps they’d reach a door, and then they’d turn right to make it to the locker rooms, which would take them to…
There were familiar things about the court that Neil could recognize. The soft echoes of their footsteps as they went through the tunnel to the home section, and then the squeaks of Neil's shoes on the floor as he dragged his feet just slightly. There was also the smell of the court, which was rubber and wax, along with a faint scent of food from a game played just the day earlier. Open space and plastic chairs and sweat. But Neil couldn't see it at all, just the dim light from overhead and around.
That was the hardest thing about this.
They ended up coming to a stop, and Andrew let go of Neil's hands, leaving him in darkness. "Why are we here?" Neil managed to ask, keeping his hands to his sides but his head up, trying to follow Andrew's footsteps.
Andrew didn't go far, and stayed directly ahead of where Neil was facing. "You know how to play," he said. "You have the space and equipment. You just have to get back on it."
Neil scoffed. "Andrew, I'm not going to play again," he said, knowing it was the truth. "You need to be able to see to play. You know that."
"It helps," Andrew agreed. Neil couldn't see him other than some kind of dark form in the court lights, but he could imagine Andrew crossing his arms as he talked. "How do you think I shut down the goal?"
How…? It was a question that stumped Neil for a moment. "You're quick," he ended up saying. "You study the other team's moves so you know their plays and patterns."
"And I remember," Andrew added. "I remember every shot everyone has ever made when I'm in the goal. Your sight helps, but your mind remembers how to play and where every line on this court is."
It was an easy thing to say, but a hard thing to accept. Neil didn't feel any more reassured after hearing that, but there was a small part of him that believed what his partner was saying. He was pretty sure they were standing in the middle of the court, but he wasn't positive. "I - "
"What were all those night practices you dragged me to for if you can't remember how it feels to be on the court?" Andrew asked, walking closer. "What was the point of training if you can't remember how to play?" He stopped right in front of Neil, who could feel the space between them. After staying silent for a moment, Andrew said quietly, "Find the walls."
Neil huffed. “I can’t see the walls.”
“I didn’t tell you to see the walls,” Andrew said, backing up again. “You can find them without your eyes.”
Sure, it would probably be very entertaining for Andrew to watch him stumble around the court with one arm outstretched, trying not to crash into the wall before his hand was able to touch it. Neil didn’t see that as any kind of fun, though. Anger prickling up his spine, he decided to play along and turned right, raising an arm and walking cautiously. He felt as though he was walking on a balance beam, searching for something to hold onto and ground him, since Andrew wasn’t going to hold his hand through this. Not that Neil expected him to.
Jumping into this was a bad idea.
Finally, something solid hit Neil’s hand. He knew by the texture it was the plexiglass of the wall, which at least let him know he had made it to the edge of the court, but he still had no idea where he was. “Now what?” he dared ask, continuing to look at the wall. It’s not like there was anything else to look at.
Andrew didn’t say anything for a moment, but Neil was able to hear the slight squeaking of his shoes as he approached. He still didn’t say anything as he reached for Neil’s hand, one finger brushing Neil’s knuckles in a clear question. Neil opened his palm to Andrew without a word, waiting for what would happen next. “Neil,” Andrew called.
Neil turned towards the sound of his voice. He wondered if he was looking far enough down. “Yeah?”
Another moment passed. Andrew reached up and nudged Neil’s chin with a gentle grip. “My eyes are here,” he said.
There was nothing but black, with some light around Neil’s peripheral. “Okay.”
More silence. “We’re walking first,” Andrew finally announced, tugging Neil after him. Neil kept one hand on the wall as they went, holding tightly to Andrew’s hand with the other. They stayed silent as they walked, reaching the curve and the goal. Neil felt where the outline of the goal was, hand brushing over the raised part of the wall twice, and then nearly crashing when Andrew didn’t direct him enough at the next curve of the court. At one point he realized they’d made it to the center line, but he didn’t say anything. They continued doing slow laps until Andrew decided he had enough, leading Neil back towards the locker rooms.
Neil’s hand lingered on the plexiglass as they went.
~*~
“Glad to see you’ve moved your moping to the couch.”
“Fuck off,” Neil huffed, keeping his arms crossed. Andrew moved his feet as he sat down on the other end, leaving them to press against his thigh. Neil clung to that touch like a lifeline, because having something grounding like the cats or Andrew helped. It made him feel less like he could suddenly fall into some sort of black abyss.
“Italian?” Andrew asked, bringing Neil out of his thoughts.
“You don’t mean Italian, you mean Olive Garden.”
“It’s Italian.”
He only said it to piss Neil off at this point. Not in the mood to go on a rant, Neil reached towards the coffee table and almost fell off the couch in his search for the remote. Andrew snorted at him and grabbed said remote, because Neil could see the light from the TV turning on. It would’ve been nice to have an image to go along with it.
“There’s House Hunters reruns,” Andrew suggested.
Neil had already heard the doorbell theme song, but it was nice to not say anything. He felt a tug on the couch cushions and then messy cat fur against his bare arm, so he shifted, allowing King to cuddle in his lap. “Fine, fine,” he agreed, settling into the comfortable spot on the couch and listening to the narrator introduce the couple on screen. He frowned after a second, sure that he recognized the voice of the woman talking. “Is it that one Karen bitch?”
“They’re all Karen bitches, be more specific.”
“Crazy Calligraphy lady,” Neil clarified, raising his head and looking at the TV. He narrowed his eyes as though that would help him see, but gave up trying to figure it out after a moment.
“Yes,” Andrew confirmed after a second.
“What a time to be blind,” Neil said, leaning his head back against the armrest. “I don’t have to see her ugly haircut. Or the carpeted kitchen.”
~*~
Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it, Neil had been waiting in anticipation for the next time he and Andrew would go to the court.
It was only a few days later that they went. It was a rest day for the team, but they both had their own set of keys to get into the weight room, and neither of them wanted to interrupt the team’s training, anyways. Neil had asked about walking around the court again, but Andrew had told him he was out of shape after laying in bed for a month.
“I’m blind,” Neil had said.
“Blind people climb Mt. Everest,” Andrew had replied.
So, Neil was determined to get through whatever Andrew had in mind.
“If you’re going on the court again, you need to practice your footwork,” Andrew began, leading Neil around the weight room. Because it was the middle of the day, there was a lot of light coming in through the large windows facing the city, which meant Neil could make out more of the room. He could even see an outline of Andrew’s form through the darkness, moving through the light Neil could see.
“What, like drills?” Neil asked, stumbling into Andrew’s side when his partner came to a stop. “Sorry.”
“Let’s try walking first,” Andrew decided.
“Walking,” Neil repeated, frowning to himself. “I can walk.”
“Not well,” Andrew said back. “You always stumble around the apartment. You shuffle your feet as if you’re dragging something on the ground after you. Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I can’t see what’s in front of me?”
“Perfect, you won’t have to see what’s in front of you when you’re on the treadmill.”
So, that’s how Neil got on the treadmill again. He was cautious at first, holding tightly to the armrests on either side of the machine, but it felt familiar to be on one again. He used to race some other teammates to see how long they could last until their legs felt unable to move any longer. Now, Neil’s legs already felt like jelly.
“Don’t do twelve,” he asked, turning his head to look at Andrew.
“We’re starting at one,” Andrew reassured him. “Ready?”
Neil took a deep breath and nodded. The pace was much slower than he thought it would be, and the familiar motions of the treadmill made him want to start running again. Because the treadmills faced the windows, Neil’s vision was filled with brightness, just a few blobs of gray where he remembered trees being. Because he’d been spending most of his time in bed until just recently, Neil’s days had been mostly filled with darkness, mostly as some form of self-punishment. At first, he’d cursed himself for not anticipating the move, or for not checking his chin strap for it being loose, for taunting a player a whole foot taller than him at all.
Though Neil missed many things he used to be able to see, he supposed the light would suffice for now.
“What’re you looking at?” Andrew mumbled from his left.
“The light,” Neil said truthfully. “The windows let a lot in.”
Andrew hummed. Neil kept walking.
Eventually, the speed was turned up to three, which was a much more normal walking speed even though it was still slow for Neil’s taste. But he’d stopped dragging his feet at all, which was really the first step to everything. “Why aren’t you exercising?” Neil ended up asking after silence stretched for too long.
“Rest day,” Andrew answered.
“You’re here.”
“This isn’t about me, Junkie,” Andrew explained, reaching a hand out to flick Neil’s forehead lightly. It almost made him stumble, but Neil quickly recovered and shot a glare towards Andrew’s direction. “You can’t keep walking around as though you’ll step on a mine.”
“I’m worried about stepping on the cats,” Neil mumbled.
“I know you are,” Andrew said. “They’re cats. They’ll move out of your way.”
“Fine,” Neil said, knowing Andrew was right. It just didn’t feel right to not be cautious. He’d thought about getting one of those canes to feel around for things in his way, but hadn’t had the need to since…well, since the cats always jumped out of the way, and because Andrew was there to lead him around. Logically, Neil knew he’d have to get one eventually if his sight didn’t improve, but he didn’t want to waste money for now. “One more.”
Andrew pressed the button and the treadmill went faster. Neil felt like he was walking more at his usual pace, and couldn’t stop a small smile from forming when he barely dragged his feet at all.
They eventually left after Neil felt more confident with walking, and he didn’t drag his feet the entire walk back to the Maserati.
~*~
“This was a mistake,” Andrew said out loud in the middle of the bread aisle.
Neil knew he was grinning. “Was it?” he asked, leaning against the cart enough that it bumped into the shelves again. “Ten points?”
“Two,” Andrew reported. “Wheat bread.”
“I thought wheat bread was five points.”
“Wheat bread doesn’t deserve to be five points,” Andrew said. “Five O’Clock. A woman with her son.”
Neil turned his head to try to find where the lady was. He was pretty sure he landed on her when he heard her gasp, likely at the sight of his face. Neil had almost forgotten he had scars. “What? I’m blind,” he said.
She gasped again, then loudly stomped away. Neil straightened up when Andrew stepped closer, tugging Neil down by the string of his hoodie. “How’d I do?”
“You can’t keep using being blind as an excuse,” Andrew said, sounding amused.
“Well, someone put the blind man in charge of steering the cart.” Neil retorted. “Whose fault is that?”
Andrew didn’t reply, but he also took a step back. Neil waited for the sound of him walking away, something he’d gotten more used to as time had gone on, but Andrew didn’t start walking. Neil kept looking at the spot he was sure Andrew had stepped back to, waiting for what to do next. He considered reaching out to try to knock some bread off the shelf, but that was against the rules, and he’d lose fifty points for that.
“Staring.”
Neil smiled slightly at the familiar phrase. “Not anymore. I can’t - “
“You’re looking in my direction, therefore, you’re staring,” Andrew interrupted. He turned on his heel, shoes making a squeaky sound against the tile of the grocery store floor, and started off again. Neil followed.
~*~
Neil felt like a penguin trying to learn how to fly.
So far, Andrew had him figuring out his footwork on the treadmill and learning how to run blind, which wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. At least, when staying in one place. Other than that, Neil had tried to familiarize himself with the layout of the court, walking around the perimeter and getting less hesitant with his moves. Andrew usually walked with him, but lately he’d been letting Neil do it himself, slowly figuring out where the curves to the walls were when the light reflected off the plexiglass shifted. He could now make it around without having to feel where the wall was, which was no easy feat.
Honestly, Neil would be happy if he could just figure out how to walk like he used to again. Losing exy was a hard hit, harder than anything he’d faced before, but over the past two months he’d managed to somewhat accept never being able to play again. When he’d said as much to Andrew just hours earlier, he’d been dragged to the court once again, only this time things were different.
“You can run, and you know where the walls are,” Andrew summarized. “Now, you need to work on the rest of the court.”
“The rest of the…?” Neil let out a humorless laugh. “That’s completely different from finding walls. At least those are solid.”
“The lines are there. They’re solid,” Andrew argued. “When getting set for a game, did you look for the lines on the ground to guide you? Or did you remember the spot you were supposed to go?”
Neil kept his mouth shut, because Andrew was right, again. He slowly turned in a circle as though he was looking around the stadium, almost surprised that he could feel where he was. If he turned to the left, he would be facing the home goal. If he turned right, he’d be facing the away one. He was standing on the centerline, and there were two more that marked the start of the defensive and attack areas.
“Stop trying to see,” Andrew said, his words sharp and yet gentle at the same time. “Your mind remembers the court. You don’t need your eyes.”
“I know.”
“Then, find somewhere familiar.”
Neil took a deep breath and closed his eyes, losing what little light he was able to see and turned to the right. He jogged slowly, not tripping over his feet once as he went thanks to the practice over the past few weeks, and when he reached the point he wanted to get to, he stopped. He knew the layout of the court, and that from the centerline he’d have to go twenty feet to reach either defense or attack area, so…
“Where do you think you are?”
“The attack line,” Neil breathed, because he could feel he was in the right place, he knew it, but he was scared that he wouldn’t be right.
“Good,” Andrew called, and Neil felt his entire body relax with relief. “Find another spot.”
Feeling more confidence, Neil nodded and turned again. “Endline,” he called.
“Yes. Find another.”
They continued like that as Neil ran around the court, feeling more confident with his steps every time he found the right place. He was able to find each goal, the wing area, the spot he usually stood in at a home game when the ball was dropped. A few times he was off, which Andrew corrected him on, but by the time they finally called it a night, Neil didn’t want to leave. He circled around the court a few times, then finally made his way towards Andrew’s voice, stopping just before where he was standing on the centerline, out of breath.
“Good to know my sleepless nights weren’t wasted,” Andrew said. “You’re still out of shape.”
“Thank you,” Neil choked out.
Andrew was quiet for a moment, but he was still there. Fabric rustled as he took one hand out of a pocket, then took Neil’s to lead him off the court.
~*~
There were regular doctor visits that always seemed to go nowhere. They’d passed the two month line, and were now halfway through the third, and Neil was starting to figure he was going to be blind forever. His doctor had told him to keep an eye out for any changes, wanting to know if anything Neil could see was getting clearer, or if he would be able to see colors. Every day Neil woke up trying to find those changes, and every day was the same.
After his concussion, Neil had been rushed to a hospital and ended up waking up there. At first he’d thought someone had turned off the lights to his room, because it had been dark but he could see some light from overhead, just extremely dimmed. But before he could ask about it he’d started looking around, already noticing things were too blurry and fuzzy for it to be just dark , and then Andrew had been there, explaining everything. It was awful for them both.
Neil would be glad if he never had to step foot in a hospital again. Maybe now that he didn’t have to play exy, he wouldn’t have to worry about it again.
The worst thing about the visits were the doctors shining light into his eyes to look for things themselves. It was always jarring for a moment, but Neil supposed it was a good thing that he could see light at all, so he pushed through it.
“Well, there doesn’t seem to be any changes,” the doctor said at the end of that day’s check up. Some papers rustled, and then the clacking of a keyboard.
“What does that mean?” Neil asked.
The doctor sighed. “The brain is very unpredictable, and we don’t know much about it. Most people who are blind don’t live in complete darkness, they’re able to see some spots of color or light like you do, Neil. If you can see light, there is hope of you being able to see again in the future.”
“But you don’t know if I will.”
“Exactly. If you don’t see an improvement within yourself, I can’t do much to help. There’s surgeries, but - “
“It’s fine,” Neil interrupted, holding tightly to Andrew’s hand.
~*~
“Time for a new lesson,” Andrew said after Neil finished running laps around the court.
“Okay,” Neil said easily, waiting for what was next. Would Andrew have him do drills? On the one hand, Neil felt ready for it, but on the other he wasn’t sure if he wanted to face obstacles just yet. So caught up in his thoughts, he was surprised when Andrew approached and pushed something into his arms. Neil knew by the weight, shape and feel of it that it was a racket. His racket, which he hadn’t touched in over three months. He swallowed the hollow feeling in his throat and waited.
“The basics,” Andrew explained. “Catch the ball.”
Any other time, Neil would’ve scoffed and gotten ready to go running for Andrew’s long and fast throws, but right now he was frozen to the spot. He wasn’t sure if he could catch a ball coming his way because that required more than muscle memory. Neil would have to see where the ball was to have any shot at catching it, which wasn’t impossible, just very difficult.
“Andrew, in case you forgot, I can’t see - “ Neil began despite everything in him wanting to try.
“Better learn to feel where the ball is,” Andrew said back, walking a few paces away.
Neil swallowed again and spread his feet shoulder width apart, holding his racket in two hands like he used to, and watched Andrew’s dark and blurry form get ready in turn. Andrew was courteous enough to tell Neil when he was throwing the ball, but the moment he did Neil stumbled back, unable to see it but knowing it was coming. The ball landed harmlessly at his feet.
“I can’t see the ball,” Neil told Andrew as he approached to grab it.
Instead of walking back to the spot he’d been standing in, Andrew lingered. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“Maybe…” Neil frowned and tilted his head. “Maybe stand to the side. I might see the ball when you do that.”
Andrew’s body turned, offering Neil a better view of his racket. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Neil said, shifting on his feet and holding more tightly to his own racket. “Go slow.”
He did, like promised. There was almost an over-exaggeration of the swing Andrew’s racket made, but Neil was able to see the ball arch up. It was just a fuzzy black blob in the light, but it was there , so Neil shifted and tried to find the angle it was going to. But the ball morphed with the rest of the darkness when Neil looked too far down, and he heard it bounce on the ground. Disappointed but not surprised, he sighed. “How close?”
“Not far,” Andrew said. “I thought you were a math major. Figuring out the angle should be fun to you.”
Well, when issued a challenge like that, how was it not supposed to be?
Andrew retrieved the ball and stood to the side again, repeating the same motions all over again. Neil was able to see the ball again, this time determined to catch it, moving his racket more to the right. Again, he heard the ball hit the ground, just off to his side. He’d gone too far looking for it. Neil quickly knelt down and felt the ball roll into his hand, fitting almost perfectly into his palm. The last time he held an exy ball was during the game he lost his sight, he was sure.
Neil squeezed the ball despite it remaining too solid to squish down. He then tossed it Andrew’s way, watched his form move to catch it, and took a deep breath. “I think I got it,” he said. “Don’t surprise me.”
This time, when the ball was tossed Neil’s way, he was sure he knew where to go. This time, he didn’t hear the ball hit the floor, and felt weight land into his racket. It was impossible to stop his smile from appearing on his face. Andrew walked over, light footsteps squeaking just a bit against the floor of the court.
“I did it,” Neil said triumphantly.
“You did,” Andrew agreed. “Ready for another angle?”
For the rest of the time they spent there that day, Neil learned the different angles he should move his racket to in order to catch the balls Andrew tossed at him depending on where the ball was moving from. Andrew didn’t go easy on him, slowly picking up speed with his tosses, and one time hitting Neil’s shin on purpose, claiming that it was an accident. Neil knew by the tone of his voice it wasn’t, but it reminded him too much of old practices to complain in the slightest.
He walked out of the court later that night with his hand in Andrew’s. By now, Neil had the path memorized, but he liked holding Andrew’s hand, and he was almost worried that Andrew would stop holding onto him if he didn’t have a reason to.
“What do you see?” Andrew asked when they got into the car and started to drive.
Neil was surprised by the question. He’d been expecting it much earlier than now. “Just…light. Like, if there was a flashlight on in the dark, only dim,” he tried to explain. “I can see shapes through it, but they’re just blobs. There’s a streetlamp,” Neil pointed out, seeing the light roll by. “And another.”
“Could be a UFO.”
“Shut up,” Neil grumbled, shaking his head and leaning it against the window of the Maserati.
They sat in silence for almost a full minute. The radio was shut off, which only amplified Neil’s thoughts. For all he knew, that could’ve been a UFO, and he’d never know. It was a weird thing to fixate on, but there were moments when Neil would suddenly realize that he genuinely couldn’t see anything. That he might never see anything except for dark blobs and light ever again. It was always stifling and claustrophobic.
“Talk,” Andrew demanded, putting a stop to Neil’s momentary drowning. He had to wonder what kind of face he was pulling to get Andrew to say something, or if Andrew just knew how to read him.
“What if I forget what colors look like?” Neil clenched his hands into fists on his lap, trying to keep them from shaking. The thoughts that had been consuming him for so long seemed to finally escape his mouth in a rush, unable to stay trapped inside. He let out a chuckle that sounded too fake and watery even to his own ears. “Andrew, I can barely remember what you look like - “
“After all that staring you did, you can’t remember?” Andrew interrupted. “You wasted so much time, then.”
Well, Neil could remember. But after spending over three months blind, unable to see his surroundings and the things he wants to see, he can’t help but second guess his memory. The image of Andrew in his mind, times they sat on the rooftop and on the couch, when they played games and wrestled, when they kissed and simply stayed with each other, felt like something far away, now. Neil was scared the person he remembered wasn’t real. Logically, he knew Andrew was right there, driving the car and sitting next to him. But were his eyes brown or gold? Did he even have freckles, or did Neil imagine those? Was his hair still long enough to get pushed out of his eyes from time to time? What about the expressions Andrew made that Neil had spent hours figuring out?
“Abram,” Andrew called, reaching up and gripping the back of Neil’s neck. It was only then that he realized he was hyperventilating. “I’m here.”
“I know,” Neil said when he managed to calm his breathing down, reaching up to wipe away at the tear tracks left on his cheeks. “I know you are. But I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Andrew replied. “You don’t need to see me to know I’m here, Abram.”
“But I want to.”
Andrew didn’t say anything back. He might’ve been shocked, or just letting Neil get over the burning feeling in his throat and finally calm down. The car stopped after a few minutes as they arrived at their apartment. Andrew squeezed the back of Neil’s neck once before getting out, opening the door for Neil to follow. They stayed quiet as they took the elevator up, and as the cats greeted them inside. Neil felt lost in the hallway, listening to Andrew move around to put a few things away. He didn’t regret what he said, but suddenly he did feel some shame for his outburst.
Neil didn’t startle when he both heard and felt Andrew walk up to him. He let Andrew take his hands and move them where he wanted, which was to cup his cheeks. Andrew’s skin felt warm until Neil’s palms, smooth and just slightly prickly with stubble around the jaw. They’d touched each other since Neil went blind, but not like this. Neil felt his shoulders droop.
Gentle fingers nudged Neil’s chin. “My eyes are here,” Andrew said. Neil sharply inhaled, looking at the dark blob that was Andrew, the outline of his form highlighted by the light in the hallway. Neil moved his eyes up and then back down, slowly, trying to get a look at the face he could feel, but not see. “There you are,” Andrew finally said, voice quiet.
“Andrew,” Neil called, unsure of what to do. “Where…?”
“Just here,” Andrew told him, holding onto one of Neil’s wrists with one hand and his chin with the other. Neil stopped trying to see something he couldn’t and instead decided to breathe, trusting that Andrew had directed him to look at the right place. It was strange that now, unable to see them and determine that truth, Neil was sure Andrew’s eyes weren’t just brown, or gold, or hazel. He could remember finding all of those colors and others in Andrew’s eyes, and it physically hurt to not be able to see them again.
“I want to see you too, Abram,” Andrew said. “Remember this.”
Neil didn’t have Andrew’s memory. He could remember the court well with practice, and knew how to get around their apartment easily enough. He could catch a ball his partner tossed to him after figuring out the right angles and how to see where the ball was going despite his blindness. Remembering events and images like Andrew could was impossible.
But he was real under Neil’s hands, and Neil could remember angles, so he nodded in agreement and held on.
~*~
Since Andrew had dragged him out of bed that one day, it’s been easier. But that didn’t mean it was easy to live in the dark, only able to see spots of light, after living so long with the view of the world around. Most days, Neil could get up and find something to do around the house. He’d learned how to portion the cat’s food correctly so that Andrew didn’t have to in the morning. He got used to listening to exy games, TV shows and podcasts, and made an effort to talk to old friends on the phone. And, of course, he learned how to play again.
But there were still times when Neil woke up, still with the dark all around, and he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Sometimes, it felt like he was learning he was blind all over again, the feeling climbing up his throat and choking him from the inside. They got a night light so that Neil would be able to wake up and see something, but there were times when even that didn’t help. On this particular morning, Neil had woken up hearing the cat’s soft snores and Andrew’s breathing, already able to tell the other was awake. It was a rest day for him, but he was still in bed instead of making breakfast, so maybe he was able to tell Neil was having a bad day before he’d even woken up.
“Hi,” Neil managed to get out, reaching towards Andrew’s side of the bed slowly, waiting to hear any sort of ‘no’. But it didn’t come, and Neil was allowed to gently curl his fingers around the back of Andrew’s neck, until he could tangle his fingers into the soft hair there. He wasn’t sure he could manage more than a single word that day, which was okay.
He was sure he dozed off again, but couldn’t be sure. Time passed differently when you couldn’t see a clock and didn’t have an internal one. Despite still not feeling good, Neil felt better than when he first woke up.
“It’s eleven,” Andrew told him before Neil could open his eyes.
Neil nodded. “Can I…?”
Andrew knew what he was asking. He’d let Neil touch him a few times before, tracing over Andrew’s face with his fingertips as though that would tie his memory to what he was feeling. It was comforting, though, to feel Andrew physically there rather than to only hear him and feel the air around them. Neil would understand if Andrew said ‘no’, but he hoped he would be told ‘yes’.
Without saying anything, Andrew rolled so he was flat on his back, reaching for Neil and moving him until they were closer. Neil was draped halfway on top of Andrew’s chest, moving the hand that had been tangled in hair to cup Andrew’s jaw, palm running over the prickly stubble that had yet to be shaved away. With one arm wrapped around Neil’s back, Andrew moved his other hand to nudge Neil’s chin in the right direction until they were eye to eye - or at least, Neil assumed so.
“Talk to me?” he asked, raising his other hand to frame the other side of Andrew’s face.
“About what?”
“Anything.”
Andrew didn’t hesitate long before starting to. He talked about his phone call with Nicky, his game two weeks ago, his new plan at avoiding Kevin’s phone calls, all the reasons why dark chocolate is better than milk…and the whole time, he let Neil touch him. Neil gently traced his fingertips over eyebrows, lips, Andrew’s forehead, the corners of his eyes, down the bridge of his nose. Neil tried to fit how the expressions, however minute they were, felt on his fingertips and match them to his memory.
“I miss you,” he eventually whispered when Andrew’s conversation slowed. “I know you’re here, but I still miss you.”
Neil could feel eyelashes flutter against one thumb near the corner of Andrew’s eyes, remembering what Andrew told him weeks earlier about muscle memory, and leaned forward. He could feel his heart soar when he found Andrew’s lips on the first try.