knife through skin

by fishy_fishyy

Summary:

He’s stopped in his tracks by an exy racquet swinging down in front of him, close enough that he can hear the wind whistling through the strings.

He drags his gaze upward to find a man he doesn’t recognise grinning widely at him, eyes hard and cold. He keeps the racquet at Andrew’s feet, preventing him from moving. “Leaving so soon?” the man laughs, a cheery lilt in his voice that makes the back of Andrew’s neck prickle.

--[-]--

Or:
Role Reversal AU

Notes:

• For elariapple.

Chapter 1

Summary:

andrew gets recruited

Notes:

wrote this for my best friend Elaria :) (HI!!!! HOPE U LIKE IT)

welcome to the fic! enjoy your stay :D this is my first fic for this fandom so i hope its okay!!

here's some pointers you might want before reading:

for neil, the main change in his story is that mary gets killed earlier which changes when he gets recruited/some other key details that i wont reveal just yet, but all his backstory is the same up until that point - the same is for andrew, whose big change is that he gets emancipated instead of getting adopted by nicky or moving in with aaron and tilda.

(full disclaimer by the way- i am neither american nor well researched in medical and legal accuracy so youll have to forgive me if i take some artistic liberties)

anyway, enjoy reading !!

(chapter re-uploaded after editing :))

Trigger Warnings:
Drake

Andrew watches the smoke curl up into the air as he breathes out, raising the cigarette back up to his lips for another drag. He sits on the bleachers in the open-air stadium, watching the last rays of sunlight leech out of the sky.

“Just you again?” Coach Hernandez says, his deep voice ringing out across the seats. Andrew looks over to the man as he steps out of the locker room, letting the door click shut behind him. He makes his way through the bleachers and stands beside Andrew, who ignores him, breathing out a stream of smoke. Coach holds his hand out, and Andrew spares his palm a glance before grinding the cigarette out himself and flicking it in the direction of the stadium field.

Coach flashes him a judging eyebrow and crosses his arms, polo shirt sleeves stretching across his biceps. “There’s someone here to see you,” he says, voice carefully flat.

Andrew dismisses the spike of panic flaring in his chest as soon as it comes, dragging a thumb across his lip. “I don’t like surprises, Coach.” He reminds him, pushing himself up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He dodges past Hernandez and towards the locker room, but what stops him is the unfamiliar man standing in the door, leaning against the frame with a folder in hand. He’s a broad middle-aged man, flame tattoos circling his forearms. His age automatically sets Andrew on edge.

“I don’t know you,” Andrew says, stopping in his tracks.

“He came to see you play tonight,” Hernandez informs him from behind. “He’s here for college recruitment.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow at the stranger, who raises one right back. “I’m not interested in getting scouted, Coach. I played this year because it got me out of eighth period algebra. Why is he here?”

“Because I gave him your file. You’ve got talent, Andrew, and he’s got a spot for a goalie open.”

The stranger steps forward, holding his yellow folder up like it was meant to mean something. “I know it’d stupidly late in the season, but I had technical difficulties with the last recruit. Coach Hernandez says you haven’t chosen a school for fall either. Works out perfectly, doesn’t it? You sign now, and you’re set for five years.”

Andrew fixes him with a bored stare. “I’m not interested in wasting five years of my life playing Exy.” He’d gotten emancipated and moved to the tiny, unimportant town of Millport just in the last year after getting out of juvie. He’d wasted enough of his life scraping his way by in foster homes before that, and now that he was finally free of the system, the last thing he wanted was to spend five years playing stickball with a troupe of sweaty college athletes.

“Hernandez said you might tell me that. So, I brought someone you might want to see. I guess this might be somewhat of a… family reunion.”

Andrew grits his jaw, his gaze sharpening. Before Andrew placed himself in juvie, he’d discovered the existence of his twin brother. Once upon a time, he might’ve wanted to meet him, but Drake’s taunting drove any hope of that ever happening.

So he focused solely on keeping Aaron away, ignoring letters and refusing a meeting, all to protect him from Andrew’s own demons. In juvie, though, he’d finally had a monitored reunion with his long-lost brother and their goody-goody uncle. Aaron had still been excited, even after months of silence on Andrew’s end. But Andrew had refused to say a word or to look at Aaron, fixing his stare at the security camera instead, eyes glued to the glare of the little red light, letting his brother’s words fade back into the background of the ever-present buzzing in his ears.

Andrew hadn’t forgotten about Aaron, though, not even after he was released on parole and filed for his emancipation. He’d kept tabs on his brother, news clippings and blog posts he had collected over the last year and he knew that Aaron and their cousin Nicholas had been scouted for the Palmetto State Foxes – a fuck-up of a team, but a team nonetheless.

He knew what the Foxes meant. A team of fractured isolationists and infighting – full of society’s dregs and castaways.

He met eyes with the stranger – or, rather - Coach David Wymack, the reality of the situation dawning on him. He’d never seen the man’s face before - because he didn’t care enough to look him up - but he knew of him from his appearance in articles about Aaron’s recruitment. “The Foxes,” he states, not really a question. “Palmetto State University.”

Wymack blinks at his blunt conclusion, apparently surprised by how fast he put it together. “Not interested in Exy, huh? You keep up with the news well enough to put it together, though.”

Andrew levels him an unimpressed stare, and makes his way into the locker room, careful not to brush up against Wymack as he moves to the side to let him through.

He’s stopped abruptly in his tracks by an exy racquet swinging down in front of him, his boots squeaking against the linoleum floors, close enough that he can hear the wind whistling through the strings.

He drags his gaze upward to find a man he doesn’t recognise grinning widely at him, eyes hard and cold. He keeps the racquet at Andrew’s feet, preventing him from moving past. “Leaving so soon?” the man laughs, a cheery lilt in his voice that makes the back of Andrew’s neck prickle. “We just met!”

The man has an overall unassuming appearance, being only a few inches taller than Andrew, with brown hair and eyes and a small, jagged scar along his cheek. He’s lean and muscular – the form of a runner. What makes Andrew feel uneasy is the smile he aims at him, the high of something in his system evident in the way he smiles, sharp and shark-like, his dark pupils blown wide.

“Neil. Don’t break the new kid.” Wymack calls from behind them. Andrew breaks his glare away from Neil and redirects it to Wymack, who shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the drugged-up freak he has accompanying him. “Neil’s a bit raw on manners,” he explains.

Neil snickers, removes the racquet from Andrew’s path and hefts it over his shoulder, swaying from side to side, restless on his feet. “Neil Josten,” he says in a false cheer, twitching his head in an imaginary hat tilt. “And where were you going in such a rush?”

Andrew meets Neil’s eyes in disgust, which just makes the man smile wider. He turns back to Wymack abruptly, ignoring Neil’s question. “We’re done here,” he says, “Get out.”

“I think paying to fly four people down here to see you warrants at least five minutes of your time.” Wymack remarks, crossing his arms.

“I told you, Coach, he’s stubborn. He doesn’t care about anything but himself,” came a familiar and resentful voice. Andrew turns his gaze to the other end of the locker room, where two people stand. Aaron the wonder twin scowls at him, clearly still hung up on how Andrew wanted nothing to do with him.

It’s strange, Andrew thinks, that even while Aaron’s grudge against him is still going strong, he flew all the way out here to see him.

 Andrew turns his attention to the last person in the room – a haughty looking man standing behind his brother who he recognises as Kevin Day, the so-called ‘son of Exy’. He has dark, straight hair and green eyes, the number ‘2’ inked darkly over his cheekbone.

Andrew looks back at Wymack, even more uninterested. “Get out.” He repeats, frustration seeping into his tone.

Wymack sighs and scrubs a large, weathered hand over his face. “Give us a minute?” he asks Coach Hernandez, who hesitates for a second but leaves the locker room without protest, shutting the door behind him.

Kevin steps around Aaron, looking down his nose at Andrew in disbelief. “How do you not want to play Exy? You’ve got natural talent, you could -”

“I’m not interested in your Exy boner.” Andrew deadpans, fingers tightening on the strap of his bag. Neil cackles, his eyes flashing with amusement. Kevin’s face darkens in shock, clearly not appreciating Andrew’s flippancy about the game.

“You could be one of the greatest goalkeepers Exy has ever seen,” Kevin pushes, flinging his hands to the side. “If you get some real training you could make it to Court.”

“I said I’m not interested,” Andrew drawls, flicking his fingers at Kevin. “Find someone else.”

 Wymack steps forward, interrupting Kevin’s indignant rebuttal. “Look - kid, clearly you don’t care enough about Exy or even your brother enough to join. But you’re an emancipated teenager living without any financial support from a guardian. A sports scholarship to college for five years sounds nice, right? Did I mention it’s a full ride?”

Andrew stares at him for a minute, only now mulling it over. While he didn’t care for the sport itself, it was true that he didn’t have enough money to go to college or any other higher education other than high school (which was a struggle in itself). Between the money he earned as a busboy in the town’s one and only diner and money he’d saved by odd jobs and stealing and selling off the Spear’s valuables, it was enough to keep him going.

But not enough for something as big and expensive as college – a prospect he hadn't bothered with after juvie.

Seeing his cousin and brother was another downside, however. He’d isolated himself from that part of his life for a reason – he wasn’t looking to make amends or reconcile – what he did was necessary, no matter how much his brother hated him for it.

A full ride was a full ride, though.

“I’ll think about it,” Andrew allows.

Wymack doesn’t smile – rightly assuming that he wouldn’t appreciate it – but there’s a twinkle of satisfaction in his eye. Andrew considers calling the scholarship off immediately because of it. “Alright, then. Your graduation ceremony is May eleventh, according to your coach. Someone’ll pick you up from Upstate Regional Airport on Friday the twelfth.”

Wymack pulls out a stack of papers from his folder and passes them over to Andrew. “Here. Keep the papers for tonight. Hernandez can fax the papers over on Monday.”

Andrew takes the papers and flicks through them, scanning the various agreements and contractual jargon that fills the pages. He looks up at Wymack, and then over to his brother, barely restrained anger evident in his expression, lips thinned and a crease between his brows.

For Aaron, it’s too late to repair what happened between them. At least Andrew himself knows it was necessary.

Either way, Andrew turns his back on his brother and the rest of the room, pushing open the locker room door, the poorly maintained hinge squealing at the sudden movement.

When the door slams shut behind them, he takes a breath, steadying himself. Andrew looks over at the forms – once he places pen to paper, that’ll be it. He’ll be going to college for five years to play with a bunch of exercise-obsessed jocks.

Well. Maybe it won’t be entirely uninteresting.

Notes:

i have no update schedule, so im not sure when the next chapter will be.

comments are appreciated!

if you'd like to talk to me abt aftg or the fic, my tumblr is @fishy-fishyy !!

Chapter 2

Summary:

andrew leaves millport

Notes:

Hi! enjoy the chapter :D

(has been re-uploaded!)

Trigger Warnings:
(Very slight) Implied sexual abuse, knives, murder, medication

 

Andrew could count on two fingers the number of times he’d been to the airport. This time around, the airport was busier than the first – vacationers, businessmen and students heading home for the summer holidays all crowded the hallways, pulling overfilled suitcases behind them, talking into phones, corralling their loud children out of the way, the noise all overlapping into one blur of sounds.

It hadn’t taken Andrew long to decide on accepting Wymack’s offer – the allure of escaping the numbing boredom of Millport and a full ride to college all for the relatively low expense of playing sports was too much to pass up.

Millport had been the first place he’d been since getting emancipated and leaving California behind – he’d wanted the smallest, most unremarkable place he could think of and that was what he got. An achingly dull town with nothing notable for miles – almost tedious enough to make him miss California. For three years he’d lived in the town’s trailer park, working at the only diner and attending the local high school. He hadn’t cared enough to get close to anyone, so he had packed up and left without saying goodbye after graduation.

He adjusts his armbands, tugging them down his wrists, the absent weight of his knives made him feel uneasy. But since sharp objects weren’t usually allowed on planes, at least not without sufficient harassment and interrogation, he’d had to leave without his set. He had mailed them ahead of him in advance, but for now he would just have to deal with the vulnerability.

He weaves his way through the crowd of arriving passengers, a black duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and a second bag swinging from his hand.

Andrew quickly discovers the wonderfully generous supplier of his ride to campus, easily spotting his brother’s face in the crowd. Aaron is standing against the wall, his head tilted down, looking at the cellphone in his hands. He looks up as Andrew approaches, his previously neutral expression turning cold.

“Baggage claim?” Aaron asks cooly, nodding his head towards the sign above.  

Andrew hefts his bags up. “This is it.”

Aaron blinks in surprise, but doesn’t say anything else to him, pushing off the wall and leading Andrew back through the crowd, tucking his cellphone in his back pocket. They make their way out into the airport parking lot, the warm outside air settling on his skin. Aaron leads the way to a dingy grey sedan and pops the trunk door open. “Bags in the back,” he says shortly, before turning and unlocking the driver’s side door.

After throwing his bag in the back, Andrew climbs into the passenger seat and shuts the door behind him, the lock clicking shut. Aaron starts the car in silence and pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road, the gravelly asphalt popping under the tyres.

Only when they reach the freeway does Aaron speak to him again. “So, you’re staying with Coach for the summer?”

“Yes.” Andrew replies, eyes glued to the passing scenery, unwilling to start an argument in a locked car.

“Too good to live with your family, then?” Aaron says, voice tinged with venom, the leather of the steering wheel crackling under his grip.

“You are not my family.”

“We’re twins.”

Andrew drags his gaze off the buildings flying past them and onto his brother’s profile. Aaron doesn’t look up from the road, but his knuckles are white with how hard he’s gripping the wheel. His voice is tight when he speaks again. “You know, I was excited to have a brother. But all you ever did was ignore me. And when you did deem me worthy to have acknowledged my existence, all you ever did was send me a letter telling me to fuck off.”

“That is not my problem.” Andrew states. He had done what he needed to do, and Aaron was better off for it. He was better off not knowing Andrew at all.

Andrew was already regretting his decision.

“How the fuck is it not your problem?” Aaron spits, his eyes flickering over to meet Andrew’s. “All I ever wanted was to know you, to have – to have a real brother, a real family. But you never even tried. You just threw me away without even -” A car horn blares loudly, shocking Aaron into silence, pulling the car back on track, having veered too far to the left.

“You didn’t even try to know me before you decided I wasn’t worth it.” Aaron says, quieter than before.

Andrew looks away, and the rest of the ride goes by in silence.

 

When they finally pull up to Wymack’s apartment complex, three people stand waiting for them on the pavement. Aaron parks the car in the mostly vacant parking lot and walks over to them wordlessly, barely sparing Andrew a glance as he retrieves his bag.

Kevin, Neil, and a man he hasn’t seen before stand beside Aaron. The stranger stepped forward, a wide, friendly smile across his face. “Hey, Andrew!” the man says, stepping forward. “I’m Nicky. Your cousin!” He leans in for a hug, his arms outstretched, which Andrew quickly dodges, taking a few steps back.

“Don’t touch me,” he warns, voice sharp, and Nicky’s face falls a little before he manages to plaster his smile back on. Neil snorts from behind him, amusement sparking in his eyes.

“Your flight go okay?” Nicky asks, probably an attempt to get Andrew to warm up to small talk with him and failing as he declines to answer. Aaron rolls his eyes, and Neil’s grin stretches further. Kevin looks bored, checking his cellphone. “Well… I guess you’ve met the others here, then,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Coach was meant to meet you too, but he had to run down to the stadium real quick. In the meantime, you’re stuck with us! We’ve got Coach’s keys, so we can head straight up. Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

“It’s just this.” Andrew says, and Nicky’s brows furrow in confusion for a moment, but he recovers quickly, waving Andrew towards the apartment complex entrance.

Andrew had been unwilling to share an apartment alone with a grown man, but the pressing matter of how broke he was had forced his hand. Fortunately, his knives should have already arrived, so he wouldn’t be entirely vulnerable.

Wymack’s apartment number is 724, and Nicky unlocks the door with a flourish. They step into the living room, where the lumpy couch Andrew would be sleeping on for a few weeks was cleared off – a Post-it note on the coffee table informing him of blankets in the table drawers. The rest of the apartment that he can see from the living room was sparsely decorated and instead had stacks of papers and other hurriedly unorganised items piled around the place, which was probably a fire hazard.

Andrew throws his bag down on the couch and turns to look at the others. Neil had disappeared somewhere within Wymack’s apartment, and Kevin was waiting at the door impatiently while Nicky and Aaron watch Andrew take in the apartment.

“He’s not very talkative,” Nicky comments in German as Andrew makes his way over to the kitchen. Andrew doesn’t outwardly react to the language, but tunes into Nicky’s words, having learnt passable German in high school.

“He’s a freak, that’s what.” Aaron snaps angrily.

“Aaron,” Nicky says, in a shocked tone.

“What? He barely acknowledges our existence. He was a foster kid, wasn’t he? You’d think he’d at least be slightly happy to have a family.”

Andrew tunes out their conversation from there on, instead pulling open the window blinds and gazing down at the city below.

Eventually their conversation ends, and Nicky turns to Andrew with a smile. “How about a tour?” Nicky offers brightly, this time in English. Andrew doesn’t respond but follows him deeper into the apartment. There isn’t much to show, but Nicky points out the bathroom and Wymack’s bedroom, as well as a study, having already passed through the kitchen and living room.

Andrew catches a glimpse of Neil in the study, digging through the desk drawers, occasionally pocketing a pen or paper clip. When Neil spots them watching him, he grins sharply and straightens up to follow them out.

Andrew has heard of Neil Josten before. His name had popped up in an article about Aaron once, and Andrew had been intrigued enough to look him up.

A year ago, Neil was scouted by Wymack out of high school – he wasn’t the best player, but apparently, he’d had potential. Potential enough to make Kevin want him on the team. That was until the cops found him standing over a half-dead man with blood on his hands and a knife gripped in one hand.

He’d been arrested, and during the trial it had come to light that the man had allegedly attacked first, and Neil was simply defending himself against an aggressor. The court had declared that his violence was a gross overreaction regardless and had pushed for him to be charged. His lawyers had come forth with a deal instead: since Neil was clearly as nutty as one can come, he’d be put on court mandated medication and forced to attend intensive therapy.

Eventually they allowed him back on the court, but his medication had made him unpredictable and unstable, leaving no one willing to approach him with a ten-foot pole, which mostly worked out in Neil’s favour as a striker.

 

They make their way back to the living room in time for Wymack to arrive, the man opening the door with an exasperated expression as he spots Neil and the others in his living room.

Wymack dumps his things to the side, throwing them onto the coffee table’s seemingly growing pile of junk. “How much trouble are they giving you?” he asks Andrew, who raises his brows in response.

“Hey, Coach!” Neil calls, entering the room.

“Do you have any idea how much I hate coming home and finding you in my apartment?” Wymack says tiredly. “How much of my stationery have you taken?”

Neil smiles, avoiding the question. “I didn’t break anything this time,” he says. Wymack arches an eyebrow in doubt and Neil shrugs, his smile disappearing as he assembles his face into an innocent expression - the faulty illusion breaking as his grin returns barely a second later.

Wymack turns to Andrew, fishing a ring of keys out of his pocket and tossing them to him. “They’re for the apartment and the court,” he explains. “Kevin’ll show you which is which. Are you all heading for the stadium?” He directs the end of his sentence at Nicky, who gives him a thumbs up.

“Heading out now,” Nicky confirms, moving for the door. Wymack locks the door behind them as they leave, ignoring Neil’s cheery goodbye, and the group files into the elevator, silent as the doors slide shut.

Neil turns to Andrew, his smile wiped from his face. Without the wild grin, Neil’s gaze is cold and searching, scanning Andrew’s expression analytically, clearing searching for something. Andrew stares back, meeting his gaze coolly. They maintain eye contact for a moment, before Neil’s smile returns.

This time, however, it’s not the easy, drugged-up grin he usually wears plastered over his face. His smile is a razor-blade slash across his face, teeth bared like a feral dog. Andrew knows this one is real, and he sees clearly for the first time the man who almost gutted another in a dark alleyway.

He knows a threat when he sees one.

Notes:

i tried making this chapter longer but im finding its easier to write more consistently if the chapters are shorter, so hopefully ill be able to have regular updates

comments and kudos are appreciated!

Chapter 3

Summary:

training! abby!

Notes:

hello! this fic is already at 100 kudos which is CRAZY, so thanks to everyone who's read it!! i appreciate all the support :DD

(chapter has been re-uploaded!)

Trigger Warnings:
Medication/drug use, child abuse, homophobia, talk of death

Andrew’s first impression of the Foxhole Court was that it was outrageously ugly, with huge paw prints painted in obnoxious neon orange across the outside of the stadium. His second impression was that these so-called team members were about to make him play Exy after a six-hour plane ride.

They stand outside the tall mesh gates bordering the stadium, peering up at the stadium. Nicky moves forward as if to clap him on the shoulder, but Andrew catches the movement in the corner of his eye and sends him a warning look. Nicky smiles awkwardly. “The orange’ll grow on you,” he says, as if the colour isn’t making Andrew homicidal.

They walk to the end of the gates and come across a narrow door with a keypad on the wall next to it. The door is open, and the others aren’t outside, so they must’ve gotten impatient waiting for Nicky to finish giving him the tour of the outside of the stadium. “This is our entrance,” Nicky explains, leading them through the door and letting it clunk shut behind them. “Code changes every couple months, but Coach always lets us know when it does. Right now, it’s 0508. May and August, Coach and Abby’s birth months, get it? They’re totally boning.”

Andrew lets his gaze wander, ignoring Nicky. The first room inside a door named FOXES is a small, cramped lounge room. A large TV takes up one wall, another crowded with a collage of pictures, and a series of squashy couches and armchairs crowd the middle of the room.

“Your birthday's in November, right? We must've missed it. Well, we’ll make up for it this year. What did your girlfriend get you?”

Andrew slides a cold look over to Nicky, who smiles guilelessly. “Come on, man. Even Aaron has a girlfriend. You telling me you don’t have anyone special back home?”

“No. Don’t ask me about that again,” Andrew states. He’s not interested in romantic partners, and especially not women. He’s perfectly fine with anonymous hookups. Prefers it, even.

Nicky blanches at the harsh tone but tries to laugh it off. “C’mon, you really that sensitive about it?”

Andrew answers him with a blank look and moves on.

They pass doors marked DAVID WYMACK, ABIGAIL WINFIELD and two changerooms. Nicky pushes open the men’s door, and they follow the hall into a larger room that Andrew vaguely remembers from the few Foxes’ interviews he has seen. “This is the foyer,” Nicky says, waving over the other three from where they sat on the benches.

Kevin and Aaron head their way, but Neil stays where he is, digging a pill bottle out of his pocket. He shakes a small white pill out into his hand and swallows it dry.

Kevin looks at him like he’s a rather annoying bug and Andrew has a sudden unexplainable urge to reach for his armbands. “Get changed. We’re going to see how well you play,” he says, waving a hand.

Andrew rolls his eyes internally but leaves for the changerooms without any argument. Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin follow, but Neil has disappeared. Nicky, noticing Andrew’s subtle double-take, informs him, “Neil’s just dosed up, so he’s out cold somewhere. He’s gone to crash and then reboot into crazy mode.”

“He’s always crazy,” Aaron muttered, unloading his gear from his locker. “The drugs weren’t what fucked him up.”

Andrew opens his locker and finds a set of brand-new gear and uniform, all in his size. He quickly pulls his shirt off, and tugs the goalie chest pad over his head, tightening the straps under his arms. He pulls the white goalie jersey over his head after he’s done adjusting his under armour, thankful that he doesn’t have to wear the disgusting fully orange jerseys.   

He sits on the bench, pulling on his leg guards as Nicky tries to strike up a conversation with him.

“Neil seems interested in you,” Nicky observes, lacing up his shoes. “I mean, if you look past his whole psycho thing, he is kind of hot.”

“You’re disgusting,” Aaron snaps, pulling his own jersey on. “No one wants to hear that shit, Nicky.”

Besides his twin brother’s raging homophobia, Andrew almost agrees with him. He doesn’t want Neil’s attention in the slightest, regardless of the fact that yes, Neil was attractive. Very much so. But the man was dangerous and unstable, and Andrew doesn’t trust him at all.

“I’m just appreciating his looks, Aaron! I’m not going to fuck the monster, but I can appreciate a nice piece of ass, okay?”

“I’m telling Erik on you,” Aaron says, slamming his locker door shut.

Andrew glances over at Nicky, not having heard that name before. Nicky catches his look and perks up, apparently taking that as an expression of interest in his life and not just Andrew trying to calculate how many people he would have to be introduced to by the end of the year.

“Erik’s my husband,” Nicky explains as they exit the locker rooms. Andrew begins to strap on his goalie gloves. “Or he will be, anyway. He was my stay-home brother for a year in Berlin and we moved in together after graduation. Anyway, that’s what Aaron and I were speaking earlier – I taught Aaron German after I came back to the states to take care of him after -”

Kevin interrupts Nicky’s explanation by banging on the locker room door, his face pinched in impatience. “Enough. Let’s play.” He snaps, and Andrew follows him to the court. Kevin isn’t dressed in court gear, which Andrew figures is because of his injured hand.

Maybe if Andrew cared a little more, he might’ve appreciated the court’s tall ceilings and polished floors – but he didn’t, so instead he ignored Kevin’s significant look, and heads straight over to the goal.

Neil has reappeared, sitting on the home bench and bouncing an Exy ball higher and higher, catching it in his hands before it bounces away from him.

Aaron and Nicky enter the court, carrying a bucket of balls between them. Andrew raises his racquet slightly as the two of them prepare to take shots at him. He knows neither of them are strikers, and don’t usually aim at the goal at all, but both of the regular strikers are either injured or high, so he guesses Kevin assumed they’ll do.

He barely breaks a sweat, deflecting Nicky and Aaron’s shots easily. They’ve been playing for around half an hour now, and Andrew is bored out of his skull, watching the seconds tick by on the court’s bright LED game clock.

After smacking another ball down the entire length of the court, he decides he’s had enough and pulls off his helmet, looking for Kevin so he can unlock the court doors and go back to Wymack’s for a long nap. Aaron and Nicky slump back, pulling off their own helmets, their hair slicked over their scalps with sweat. Kevin looks excited enough to bust a nut, and Andrew wants to vomit all over his shiny new expectations.

As they file out through the court door, Andrew notices Neil staring at him, the ever-permanent smile plastered over his face, but his eyes show intrigue. Andrew brushes that off and heads for the changerooms, not worked up enough to shower.

He pulls his gear off quickly and changes back into his normal clothes, ruffling his helmet-hair away with one hand. As he, Kevin and Neil wait for Nicky and Aaron to shower and change, Neil turns to him with a look in his eye that makes Andrew uneasy.

“So,” Neil drawls. “Little runaway boy, hm?” He laughs at Andrew’s bored look. “You were in the foster system. Is that why you’re so quiet? They beat it all out of you? Fitting all of Coach’s requirements, aren’t you?” Neil’s smile peels back into something more real, lips curling to show pink gums. “Such as it is for all his little rising stars.”

“Wymack doesn’t recruit rising stars,” Andrew tells him, not bothering to rise to the bait.

Neil laughs, manic and bright. “True that. The Foxes will never amount to anything.”

“Then why’d you join?” Andrew says, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I wanted to play Exy,” Neil muses, “But mostly because I have a death wish. Might as well do something I enjoy before my inevitable murder.” Neil gets up from the bench, something dark hiding behind the amusement in his eyes. “Why’d you join, anyway, if you don’t actually care about the game?”

Andrew looks over at him, Neil’s gaze unwavering. He shrugs. “Everything else is boring. This is just slightly more interesting than the rest.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kevin interrupts, his eyes narrowed. “You have real talent, Andrew – I meant it when I said it, you could go to Court. You don’t care about that?”

“I think you’ve upset Kevin’s feelings, Andrew,” Neil laughs, tossing his Exy ball from hand to hand.

Kevin glares at Neil incredulously. “You care about this game just as much as I do, Neil, you’ve got to see that -”

Andrew turns his attention to Nicky and Aaron as they emerge from the locker room, stopping Kevin’s rant in its tracks. Nicky glances between the two of them, confused. “What’s happening?” he asks, scrubbing a towel through his damp hair.

“Nothing, nothing.” Neil sighs, pocketing the ball. “Kevin just missed nap time. Time to go, Nicky.”

 

Abigail’s front door is unlocked, so they let themselves in, the smell of frying garlic and tomatoes filling the house. They file into the kitchen, where Abigail is stirring a pot of sauce over the stove and Wymack roots through the kitchen drawers, clutching handfuls of silverware. He spots them as they enter and points at Nicky with a fork in hand.

“Hemmick, get over here and be useful for once in your mangy life. Table needs setting.”

“Aww, Coach,” Nicky complains, “Why do you always have to pick on me? You already started it. Can’t you finish?”

“Shut your face and get to work.”

Abigail frowns, turning away from the stove. “Can’t you behave when we’ve got a guest?”

“Andrew isn’t a guest. He’s a Fox. We shouldn’t give him any special treatment because it’s his first day. Don’t want him thinking this team is anything but dysfunctional.”

“David? Shut up and make sure the vegetables aren’t boiling over. Kevin, check the bread. It’s in the oven. Nicky, table. Aaron, help him.” She commands, waving a wooden spoon in the air. “Neil-” She paused when she realised Neil wasn’t in the room. “Neil Josten, you’d better not be stealing my valuables,” Abigail calls out, dropping the spoon back into the pot.

Neil laughs from somewhere deep in the house.

“Neil!”

Neil appears in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “What’s that, Abby? You think I’d steal from you? Oh dear. How ever will I recover from this affront on my person?”

Abigail rolls her eyes, but doesn’t respond, wiping her hands on a tea towel. She turns to Andrew and offers him a smile he doesn’t return. “You’d be Andrew, then. I’m Abby. I’m the nurse and temporary landlord to this lot. You’re twins with Aaron? I knew you were identical, but it’s still strange how alike you look.”

Andrew takes this as an insult.

“They’re not giving you too much trouble, are they?” Abby asks, turning the heat down on the stove.

“You worry too much, Abby. I’m not going to break him,” Neil chimes in, appearing at her shoulder. “Not yet, at least.”

“Neil, if you-”

Neil waves a hand. “Bee’ll put him back together, Abby. Isn’t that her job?” He looks to Andrew, who raises an eyebrow at him. Neil Josten of all people will not be his breaking point. Neil smiles, as if he knows what Andrew is thinking. “Bee’s a shrink. You’re mandated to see her once a semester.”

Abby turns back to her pot. “Betsy’s good at what she does. You should make use of her. Anyway, enough about that. Let’s eat.”

Abby hefts the sauce off the stove and brings it over to the table, where she settles it on top of a folded towel. Plates of pasta are passed around and sauced is doled out on top, Abby making sure the bread gets passed around to everyone.

The group is quiet as they work through their meal, Abby and Nicky’s attempts at conversation landing flat, instead having to resort to a one-on-one conversation.

 

When dinner is over, Andrew climbs into the car with Wymack, tension swirling in his gut. Getting into a car alone with a grown man is difficult, especially without his knives, but he’ll just have to deal with it until he is able to make the trip out to the post office.

They ride in silence, the sound of the road under tyres filling the space between them, Andrew staring out of the window, watching the blur of the city go by.

When they reach the apartment again, Wymack opens the door for the both of them and lets Andrew inside. Wymack throws his keys to the side as they enter, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the hook behind the door. He looks back to Andrew, who stands in his living room, by the couch he’ll be using as his bed for the next few weeks.

“Laundry room is in the basement. Detergent’s in the bathroom cabinet under the sink. Use what you need and take what you want from the kitchen. It’ll piss me off more if you act like a skittish stray cat than if you eat the last bowl of cereal.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything, and Wymack takes that as an acknowledgement. “I’ve got paperwork to do. You good?”

“I need to go pick something up,” Andrew says. He’d applied for a PO box before leaving Millport, so his knives would arrive safely. The post office was probably closed, but he had had the keys to the PO box mailed to him separately. He’ll sleep a lot easier tonight knowing he has his knives on him.

Wymack just nods, “Alright,” he says, “Just don’t turn back up at some stupidly early hour and wake me up.” He turns and leaves, walking deeper into his apartment, leaving Andrew alone.

Andrew fishes his spare set of keys out of his pocket and locks the apartment door behind him as he leaves.

Notes:

hope u enjoyed :))

comments are appreciated!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 4

Summary:

knives and edgar allen

Notes:

hiiii

Not entirely happy with this chapter but I am having MAJOR writers block atm so this was the best I could do. Also majority of Wymacks lines are taken directly from the book so sorry about that lol

(chapter has been re-uploaded!)

Trigger Warnings:
Mentions of suicide, knives, mentions of murder/death, violence, the mafia

 

The familiar weight of his knives greets him in the morning as he blinks awake, curled in an uncomfortable position on Wymack’s couch. Andrew scrubs a tired hand over his face, having been unpleasantly jolted awake a few hours prior with Wymack’s freakish morning routine.

He feels around for his phone and flips it open, the time blinking up at him in little white letters: 9:27. Kevin has called him 3 separate times. He rolls off the couch without hurry and pads over to the kitchen, where he finds that Wymack has left a cold pot of coffee on the counter. He’s sipping at a mug of the dark liquid when someone raps on the door, sounding agitated.

Andrew opens to door to see Kevin standing in the hallway, an unimpressed look on his face. “We are going to court,” Kevin snaps. “You are late for practice-”

Andrew slams the door in his face and turns back to his coffee, hearing Kevin’s muffled shout of agitation through the door. Kevin tries the door a few more times, rattling the handle before giving up and leaving. Andrew turns on the television and begins to flick through channels, settling back down on the couch.

It’s bad enough that they expect him to do extra practice before the season has even begun, but Kevin’s insufferable attitude about the sport made it even more unbearable.

 

A week goes by with relative ease, Andrew avoiding extra practice like the plague, making Kevin increasingly frustrated. He begins work at a nearby bar, knowing his measly savings are nowhere near enough to support him throughout the rest of the year.

It’s after one of these shifts, back in the apartment, when Wymack approaches Andrew, his face lined with annoyance.

“What will it take to get you onto the court?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen bench, arms crossed over his chest.

Andrew looks at him over his bowl of cereal, bits of dissolving marshmallow bobbing around in milk.

“The school year hasn’t started yet,” Andrew says, dipping his spoon back into his bowl. “Practice isn’t mandatory until it does.” Wymack had said this to him the first time Kevin tried roping him into a practice session, waving off Kevin’s disapproval with an uninterested hand.

“It isn’t,” Wymack concedes, tipping his head back. “But now Kevin’s calling me five times a day to convince you to attend practice. What will it take to get you to go?”

Andrew almost laughs at Wymack’s defeated expression. He considers the offer, cereal turning soggy as he stirs his spoon around the bowl. “Bottle of Blue Label,” he says, finally taking a bite of his breakfast.

Wymack’s eyebrows shoot up almost comically high. “Jesus, kid,” he says, “Are you -You’re not even legal.”

Andrew shrugs. “Deal with Kevin, then.”

“Alright,” Wymack says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell, fine. But only one bottle - I’m not made of money.”

 

In the locker rooms the next day, Nicky takes the opportunity to corner him and interrogate him about his personal life. “Come on, Andrew,” he says, “You’re always hanging out alone! Even if you don’t want to talk to us, I can always send some girls -or guys - your way. You must’ve been pent up in that small country town-”

Nicky had been asking increasingly probing questions about Andrew’s personal life whenever they had interacted in the past week, and this comment about his sexual preferences seemed to be the last straw on Andrew’s patience.

He withdraws a knife from his armband and holds it out towards Nicky, the silvery edge an inch away from his neck. “This is none of your business,” Andrew snaps, “We are not family. I told you to stop and you haven’t listened.”

Nicky’s eyes widen in fear, his breath quickening. “Oh my god…” he stammers, “Andrew, please-”

“I don’t like that word.” Andrew says. “I am warning you for the last time. Stop probing into my life, and stop asking questions, or next time you will end up bleeding.” He pulls the knife away, and Nicky staggers back, terror splashed across his face.

Aaron turns on him, his voice high and angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just pull a knife on someone-”

“Who’s pulling knives?” Neil asks from the locker room doorway, causing Aaron to flinch in surprise. Neil grins, amusement flashing in his eyes.

“This psycho did,” Aaron snarls, pointing to Andrew with an accusing finger. “He held one up against Nicky’s throat.”

Neil’s amused look fades, his smile becoming sharper. He raises an eyebrow at Andrew, who raises one back. “I warned him what would happen if he asked too many questions, and he didn’t listen.” Andrew says shortly, his gaze unwavering. Neil’s eyes trail down to find the knife held at Andrew’s side.

Neil looks over to Nicky, who is holding his unharmed throat and shivering. “Is that true, Nicky?” he asks. Nicky nods, hunching his shoulders inwards. Neil turns to Andrew and narrows his eyes. “Hmm,” he says, and steps towards Andrew.

Andrew brings the knife up again and points it at Neil’s ribs. Something flashes across Neil’s face, an emotion almost strong enough to break his smile, but within half a second, it’s gone, his pinprick-pupils trained on Andrew’s face.

“Don’t touch me,” Andrew warns, and pulls his hand back, tucking his knife back into his armband.

Neil looks back at him, something unreadable in his eyes, and then laughs, the sound echoing through the change rooms. “Is that your slow attempt at suicide or do you have sheaths built into those?” He asks curiously, and Nicky makes a low sound of shock. Andrew declines to answer. Neil smiles slowly at him, and leans in a little closer, something dangerous behind his cheery expression. “If you harm someone under my protection, you will not live to hear the end of it.” Neil snarls under his breath.

Andrew gazes back at him, unrelenting. Neil tilts backwards and taps two fingers against his temple in mocking salute. Andrew casts Aaron and Nicky an unimpressed look and leaves the locker rooms, and Neil laughs at his retreating back, the sound echoing down the hall.

 

A week after the encounter, Nicky has regained his cheer but always keeps at least an arm’s length of distance between them, no less loud but a lot less curious. Aaron glares at him venomously whenever he gets the chance, which Andrew ignores that seems to make his brother even angrier.

As he walks down the hall to Wymack’s apartment, he hears raised voices come from inside. He pauses just outside the door to listen to the unfolding argument.

“Damn it, Kevin, I said sit down!” Wymack’s angry voice sounds from within.

“I won’t!” Kevin cries. His voice is twisted in fear and so tightly wound that Andrew barely recognises it. “How could you let him do this?”

“I don’t have any say in this, and you know it- Hey!” Wymack yells, and a hard thud of bodies hitting the wall echoes through the apartment. Something falls to the ground and shatters. Andrew takes the opportunity to slip inside and into the hallway outside the living room, where Kevin is apparently having a breakdown.

“Look at me,” Wymack snaps. “Look at me, goddamn you, and breathe.”

“I warned Neil he was going to come after me. I told him!” Kevin’s breath hitches, his voice cracking.

“It doesn’t matter. You signed a contract with me.”

“He could pay off my scholarship in a heartbeat. You know he would. He’d pay you off and take me home and I-I can’t go back there. I can’t, I can’t, I won’t, I-I must go. I have to go. I should go now, before he has to come for me. Maybe he’ll forgive me if I go back. If I make him hunt me down any more than I have already he’ll kill me for sure.”

“Shut up,” Wymack says. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I can’t tell Riko no!”

“Then don’t say a word. Keep your mouth shut and let me and Neil do the talking. Yes, Neil. Don’t tell me you forgot that psycho. Do you want to call him? I’m sure he’d be out of his session with Betsy by now, god forbid he stay and actually talk to her. Do you want to call him and tell him you’re thinking of leaving?”

Silence follows Wymack’s words, and Andrew knows that he has gotten to Kevin. Just from being around Neil for a few weeks and he already knows that whoever tries to take Kevin away would end up without their head or vital organs.

When Wymack speaks next, he is quieter, a shade of concern in his gruff voice. “I’m not letting you back there,” he says. “Nothing says I have to. Your contract says you belong to me. He can send all the money he wants, but you have to sign off on it before it means anything, and you’re not going to. Okay? You let me and Neil worry about Riko. You worry about getting your game and team where they need to be. You promised me you could get us past the fourth match this year.”

“That was before,“ Kevin says, miserable. “This is now.”

“The ERC is giving us until June before they break the news. They saw how many security issues we had with your transfer, so they’re waiting until everyone’s here where I can keep an eye on them. I told you because you need to know, but I need you to keep it from Neil until then. Tell me you can see Neil today and not completely freak out.”

Kevin groans quietly, maybe muffled by hands over his face. “Neil will figure it out. He’d not stupid.”

“Then you have to be the better liar.” Wymack says harshly.

The two of them are quiet for a stretch of time, before Kevin speaks up again. “Give me your phone.”

“If you think I’m going to let you call him-”

“I have to call Jean,” Kevin chokes out. “I need to hear him say it.”

Kevin moves away, far enough that Andrew can’t hear his voice through the wall. Eventually Kevin hangs up and slumps into the couch with a creak of springs as he sits down.

“Wait here,” Wymack says, and heads into the hall. He freezes at the sight of Andrew standing in the hallway, surprise written across his face, but says nothing and continues into the kitchen.

He comes out again with a handle of vodka, which he passes off to Kevin. “Drink,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Wymack then comes back into the hallway, gesturing for Andrew to follow him out of his apartment and into the hall.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone until June,” Wymack says, folding his arms. “How much did you hear?”

“Kevin’s having a breakdown,” Andrew summarises. “I don’t know any more than that.”

“Edgar Allan put in a transfer request with the ERC and it was approved this morning. They’re part of the south-eastern district effective June 1^st.”

Andrew raises a brow. “I don’t see why this is such a big deal. Who cares if his old team has come into the same district?”

Wymack blinks at him. “You really don’t keep up with Exy, do you?”

“I came here for the scholarship, not because I am an Exy fanatic.”

Wymack sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Edgar Allan is the best team in NCAA Exy.”

“Okay. That doesn’t explain Kevin’s meltdown.” Andrew shrugs, leaning against the wall and putting his hands in his pockets.

Wymack watches his face for a minute before speaking. “What I’m about to tell you is an open secret. That is, we know it,” he says waving a finger in a circle, probably indicating the Foxes. “But no-one outside our team does. It has to stay that way no matter what, you understand? People could get hurt if this gets out. People could die.”

Andrew raises a brow in curiosity. Interesting.

“What about them?” he asks, gesturing to the other apartment doors around them.

“They’re empty,” Wymack says. “They were meant to fill up because of the proximity to our Exy stadium, but as you can see, we haven’t exactly done much to earn positive attention. I’m the only one on this floor. Enough about that. Do you know why Kevin came to Palmetto?”

Andrew blinks slowly.

Wymack waves a hand. “Of course, you don’t. You’re so bored by this sport I’m surprised you even know the rules, let alone play. Anyway, Kevin broke his hand and couldn’t play anymore, so he came here. Following Neil, the press says.”

“But that’s not true.” Andrew assumes, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“No. I brought him here. He turned up at my hotel room last winter banquet, his hand a bloody mess. He didn’t want us to notify the Ravens or take him to a hospital, so Abby bandaged him up and we brought him back to South Carolina. Publicly, they say he broke his hand in a skiing accident.”

“He wasn’t in the mountains at all, was he?” Andrew guesses. “He broke his hand another way.”

Wymack nods. “The ERC had an end-of-year meeting a few days before the south-eastern district’s winter banquet. The NCAA advisors got everyone talking about Kevin and Riko. They had some concerns about the season, they said. They were sure Riko was holding Kevin back, that Kevin was selling himself short so as not to outshine Riko on the court. They wanted to know if it was Coach Moriyama’s doing. In response Moriyama pitted Kevin and Riko against each other.

“Riko won,” Wymack says, with a sigh. “But I’m thinking he didn’t get it fair and square. If he had, maybe things would have turned out differently. As soon as Coach Moriyama dismissed them, Riko broke Kevin’s hand.” Wymack watches Andrew for a reaction, but he has none. He didn’t much care about Kevin’s misfortunes, and he certainly didn’t care about Riko’s little hissy fit. “So much for family, hm?” Wymack muses.

“I don’t believe in family,” Andrew says shortly.

“Neither do I,” Wymack agrees. They are silent for a minute before Andrew speaks up again.

“Why doesn’t anyone know?” he asks, his growing interest getting the better of him.

“Because Riko is a Moriyama,” Wymack says. “This is where it gets messy-”

“I don’t care about the details. Just tell me why.” Andrew cuts in, his curiosity not yet enough to listen to a lengthy discussion of the Moriyama family dynamics.

Wymack raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest. “The Moriyamas are an international trading business. Or at least that’s their front. The real Moriyama family business is murder.”

Andrew straightens, his curiosity piqued.

“They’re a yakuza group. I don’t know much more than that, and I don’t know how much Kevin knows, but the main family uses Raven games as a cover for big meetings. They’ve got VIP lounges on the upper floors where they make deals.”

“So, they want Kevin back for what? He sounded too scared to expose them, so that can’t be it. And he can’t play anymore.” Andrew says.

“No, but he’s still a name. and they don’t care about his playing. He’s not a person to them, he’s their possession. They think that as soon Coach Moriyama calls for him, he’ll come. So they aren’t worried about bringing him back. He’ll pit Riko against Kevin and expects him to destroy us on court. He’ll establish Riko as superior and throw Kevin out.”

Andrew thinks for a second. “What if Moriyama tells him to stop playing?”

“Kevin only had the strength to leave because Riko broke his hand. I’d like to think he would be able to defy Moriyama, too. But if he loses to the Ravens, he’ll stop playing. And the day he stops playing is the day he dies. Because Exy is the only thing he’s ever known.”

Andrew stares at Wymack. “Then he’ll die. Because the Foxes are the worst team in the nation.”

Wymack frowns at him. “Then it’s time to stop being the worst.”

Notes:

hope u enjoyed :) have a nice day/night!

comments and kudos are appreciated!!

Chapter 5

Summary:

physical, andrew meets the foxes

Notes:

hi!! Sorry for the lateness!! ive actually had this chapter written for a little while but couldnt update cause i was on a hiking trip and theres no reception on top of a mountain lmao.

hope you all enjoy as this is my favourite chapter so far >:DD

(chapter has been re-uploaded!)

Trigger Warnings:
Explicit language, knives, self harm mention/self harm scars, death threats

Andrew weighs his dorm keys in hand, running his thumb over the teeth. He sits in the Foxes’ lounge, reading over the paperwork he has to sign regarding ‘appropriate dorm behaviour’. The lounge was quiet, with Neil and his band of idiots back at Abby’s house.

The first few Foxes were to be arriving that afternoon, and Andrew is already dreading the introductions and useless attempts at small talk. He drops the signed paperwork on the couch cushion next to him and picks up a course pamphlet, running a thumb over the glossy paper.

He’d decided on studying a criminology major a week back and was already figuring out his class schedule, but he flips through the pages anyway, looking over the options.

Andrew looks up as the door opens and Abby steps through. She glances down at her watch when she sees him sitting alone, raising a brow. “You’re a little early for the meeting,” she observes.

Andrew looks back down at his pamphlet, eyes skimming over the text and the too-perfect pictures of students smiling and laughing, carrying textbooks and bags and flyers.

“Well, since you’ve got time to spare, we may as well do your physical.”

“What is that?” Andrew asks warily, probably the first words he’s spoken to her.

Abby smiles a little, clasping her hands together. “I just need to check your physical health over – you can’t play on the court until I’ve done it. I’ll be quick, and then you can get on with your day.”

He sighs internally and drops the pamphlet on top of his forms. Abby beams at him. “Great!” she says, “How about we do this in my office?”

Andrew follows her into the room she waves him towards, and she shuts the door behind them. A desk and chair sit in one corner of the small room, with a cot set up on the opposite side. A cupboard likely lined with first aid equipment is next to the bed, and the walls are lined with colourful medical information posters.

“I need to just do a few tests and things – blood samples, measuring your height and weight – stuff like that,” she says genially, perched on a swivel chair next to her desk.

Andrew sits on the cot opposite her, and levels her with a stare. “Don’t touch me,” he says, warning evident in his tone.

She blinks, slightly taken aback. “I understand Andrew,” she says in a placating manner, “I’ll try my best, but some tests may be difficult for me to do without physical contact.”

Andrew accepts this wordlessly, tension spreading though his body.

Abby conducts the physical as best as she can without touching him, but she eventually has to lay a hand on his arm to draw his blood. He sits stiffly throughout, watching her hands as she works.

 “Alright,” she says eventually, “shirt off, please.”

He takes his shirt off without protest, shivering a little at the cold air.

“Armbands off too,” she tells him, after looking him over. “I need to check for track marks.”

“No.”

“Andrew-”

“I said no.” Andrew says sharply, voice edging on dangerous.

“Andrew, I need to check for track marks. If I don’t, you can’t go on court,” Abby tries. “Whatever you’re hiding, it won’t leave this room.”

He flicks his gaze upwards to look her in the eyes and slowly slips his armbands off. The air brushes over his forearms, and he feels a vulnerability he wants to tear out of himself and set alight.

Abby’s eyes widen at the sight of his scars, the long lines of horizontal silvery scars, and she flinches minutely. “Andrew-”

“Shut up.” He snarls. “I don’t have track marks,” he says, a demand rather than a question and she nods wordlessly. He pulls his armbands back on, the comforting weight of cold metal against his skin.

He leaves the office, and the door slams shut behind him.

 

Andrew’s first impression of his dorm room was that it was small and had a terrible view of the neighbouring building’s brick wall. The second was that his roommate was ripped as hell. His mouth went dry, and he mentally shook himself.

“I’m Matt,” his roommate says cheerfully, offering him a hand to shake. “You must be Andrew!”

Andrew stares at his hand and then looks up to meet Matt’s eyes. Matt was a lot taller than him. He moves past him and to the unoccupied bunk, dumping his duffel on top of the bare mattress. Good thing he’d brought sheets. 

“Um,” Matt tries from behind him, clearly phased from his silent dismissal. “I guess you’ve met the monsters, then. We thought you might’ve- because your brother and – Uh. I mean to say is that… Dan didn’t want your introduction to the Foxes to be just Neil and Kevin. They’re both a bit – full on. I’m guessing you already know what I mean by that. But you are Aaron and Nicky’s family, so maybe they weren’t so…” Matt trails off.

Andrew upturns his belongings onto the bed and begins to sort through the pile.

“Alright.” Matt accepts awkwardly. “Well. I’ll let you settle in. The girls want to meet you, though. How about I bring you ‘round to meet them later?”

“Okay,” Andrew relents, shaking out his sheets. He might as well get all the introductions over and done with.

“Great! So, I’ll, uh…. See you later?” Matt tries. At Andrew’s silence, he sighs a little and backs out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Andrew shoves the rest of his clothes into the chest of drawers and steps back. The proximity of the bunks might be a problem, but if he sleeps with his knives, he should be fine. He goes to the kitchen and begins to make a pot of coffee.

Half an hour later, Matt returns and drags him over to the girl’s dorm. Dan Wilds and Renee Walker act like complete opposites of the Foxes Andrew has spent the past few weeks with, offering him cookies and iced tea.

They ask him few questions, clearly forewarned by Matt about his tendency to ignore people, which he supposes he appreciates. Dan seems confident and has a sense of surety about her, whereas Renee is placating and gentle. She makes him uneasy.

Dan and Matt seem untrusting and partly hateful towards Neil and Kevin, or the ‘monsters’ as they call them – although they avoid the topic of Aaron and Nicky with Andrew, but he knows they’re included in that group. Apparently, Neil has a tendency to get violent when angry, and Dan calls him a crazy psychopath. Andrew wonders what Dan would make of him drawing a knife on Nicky.

Renee shows more leniency and Christian kindness towards them - even towards Neil, which Andrew can tell Dan dislikes.

He sits and listens to parts of their conversation, mostly uninterested but he supposes the gossip was vaguely entertaining. He offers nothing in the way of conversation until they have to head up to the stadium for the team meeting.

Matt drives them up to the stadium in his truck and they enter the lounge to find Abby, Wymack and the ‘monsters’ already there. Renee cheerfully greets the other group, much to the chagrin of the upperclassmen, who cast judgemental looks between them.

Andrew sits alone on one side of the room, and the upperclassmen and the monsters giving each other a wide berth.

A man with a shaved head enters the room a few minutes later with a tall blonde woman and throws himself into an armchair, looking like someone had taken a shit in his cereal. Andrew guesses this was his other roommate, Seth Gordon. Isn’t that fun.

The woman’s - Allison Reynolds, he presumes – gaze lands on Andrew. She smiles, showing off a set of perfect white teeth. “I’m going to sit with you,” she says, and Seth turns bright red with rage, sitting up angrily.

“No, you’re not.” Andrew says shortly. He wants nothing to do with her little marital spat, coupled with the fact that he’s not the slightest bit interested in women.

Neil laughs, loud, bright and jarring. “I would do what he says, Allison. Unless you want him to pull a knife on you.”

The room falls silent.

Dan glares at Neil. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s saying that Andrew is a fucking psycho, that’s what.” Aaron cuts in. The upperclassmen look to him in shock, possibly surprised by his viciousness towards his twin brother. “He carries knives around. He pulled one on Nicky and threatened to slit his throat.”

Dan turns to Andrew. “Is this true?”

Andrew looks her in the eye. “I warned him what would happen if he continued to ask questions about things I did not want to talk about.”

The upperclassmen bar Renee erupt into loud accusations, which Andrew tunes out. Neil makes eye contact with him and smiles wide, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Wymack yells, stepping forwards.

Dan begins to protest, “Coach, he-”

Wymack cuts her off with a sharp look. “Andrew, I’ll deal with you later. Now you assholes need to shut up and listen, I’ve got news.”

The room falls silent, and Andrew catches Renee lookign at him. There is something hidden behind her expression, not present before in her calm and sweet demeanour. Interesting.

“Edgar Allen’s coming south,” Wymack announces.

A few shocked outbursts are heard, but everyone’s eyes slide to Kevin and Neil.

 Neil laughs, loud and harsh, the sound breaking through the room’s tension like a hammer to ice.

“Neil, what the hell?” Dan snaps, shaking off her horror. “This isn’t funny.”

Neil doesn’t respond, instead turning to Kevin, who, noticeably, doesn’t look surprised at all, his face blank and pale, breaths coming out in short, quick bursts. “Ohhh,” Neil grinned – knifelike and dangerous. “You knew.”

Kevin slides a horrified look to Neil, whose eyes are cold and unforgiving. “I-”

“I-” Neil mocks, his razor-edge smile growing wider. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Neil, stop it. He’s clearly-” Dan tries to cut in again.

“Clearly what? A liar? A coward? Kevin, how long have you known?”

Kevin shrinks back into his seat. “Since May.” He says, looking at the ground.

“May. May, may, may. May-be, it would’ve been nice if I had known, hm? May-be think about the fact that it concerns me, too.”

Wymack interrupts Neil, “I told him not to,” he says, “Drop it.”

“You picked Coach over me? Oh my, Kevin. What is this? Betrayal?” Neil laughs again. “After all I’ve done for you?”

“Help me,” Kevin whispers, barely audible.

“Help you? You lied to me for an entire month, Kevin. How?”

“I want to stay.” Kevin says, looking Neil in the eye. “Don’t let him take me away.”

Neil’s gaze hardens, brown eyes turning to solid stone.

Kevin wrings his hands together, thumb rubbing over his scar in a rushed, panicked rhythm.

“Look at me, Kevin.” Neil says, after a minute, tapping a finger to Kevin’s temple, his smile fading at the edges. Kevin meets his eyes with a hollow stare. “You’ll be fine. We had a deal, remember?”

No one speaks for an age, Kevin’s panicked breaths subsiding into silence.

“Shit,” Dan mutters under her breath.

Wymack manages to take back the reigns of the conversation after Kevin’s freak-out and runs the team through the rest of the information they need to know for the year. Kevin sits in silence, Neil’s eyes on him, his hands gripping his knees.

As soon as Wymack gets through the relevant information and the Foxes begin to chatter amongst themselves again, Andrew stands and goes to leave, tired of all the dramatics. If he had known college sport was this theatrical, he would’ve just stayed in Millport.

“Andrew, wait-” Dan starts, beginning to stand up, but Andrew shuts the lounge door behind himself, cutting her off. He knew he would have to walk back to the dorms, but it was better than being stuck in Matt’s truck while they badgered him about his knives and his brother and his violent reactions.

He is halfway down the hall when he hears footsteps behind him, soft and quick. He turns to see Renee, who smiles calmly at him, her rainbow-tipped hair framing her face.

“Can I talk to you?”

Notes:

HEHE

comments are appreciated!!

Chapter 6

Summary:

andrew and renee chat. seth is just very very stupid

Notes:

hello! enjoy the chapter :D

(chapter has been re-uploaded)

Trigger Warnings:
Explicit language, knives, talk of drugs/medication, homophobic language (f slur from seth)

 

“Can I talk to you?” Renee asks, folding her hands in front of her, her voice friendly and even.

“Why?” Andrew says pointedly, glancing down at Renee’s silver cross necklace.

Renee smiles at him, noticing his scepticism. “I’m not here to argue with you or your choice to carry knives. We have a lot in common, actually. I’d like to have the chance to to talk to you.”

“You don’t know me,” Andrew says shortly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“No,” Renee agrees easily. “But I would like to.”

Andrew considers her for a minute. While she certainly seemed like the pacifist type, he hadn’t let the strange expression she wore at the mention of his knives slip his attention. That look wasn’t one of fear or disgust, which he often encountered.

No, her face, while a little apprehensive, had shown understanding.

“Alright,” he allows. “What do you want?”

Renee beams at him. “Great! How about we speak in the parking lot? Unless you’d like to talk elsewhere…?”

“Parking lot’s fine,” Andrew says, and Renee follows him outside, where the sun is near setting, casting a low, dusky light across the parking lot. Renee perches on the curb, and Andrew hesitantly takes a seat next to her.

“How long have you had your knives?” Renee asks gently.

“Since I moved to Millport,” Andrew answers. It was unusual for him to speak so freely about his habit of carrying weapons around, but he had the feeling that no matter what he said, Renee would remain unphased.

“Do you know how to use them?”

“Somewhat.” Andrew hedges. He had never learnt to properly handle them, but the mere presence of them turned against someone worked to intimidate people without fault. Except Neil. But Andrew didn’t count him in with most people.

“I can teach you how to handle them.”

Andrew turns his head around to stare at her, his eyebrows rising. What was a good Christian girl like her offering something like that?

Renee seems to sense his question and let her smile fall. “I’m not a good person,” she explains. “I am learning to be.” She reached up to grip her cross necklace. “Nevertheless, I know how to use knives, and I am willing to teach you how.”

“Why?” Andrew asked. “You’ve known me for less than a day. Why are you offering this?

She shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure,” she says, her hands resting atop her knees. “But I think we could get along with each other quite well if we give it a chance. That, and I don’t want you getting hurt while using them.”

“What about others?” Andrew presses. “Doesn’t your little book say something about not hurting others?”

“Like you said, I don’t know you well enough to judge, but I have a feeling you don’t wield those knives with the purpose to hurt people. I’m usually right about these sorts of things.”

Andrew stares at her, and she simply blinks back at him. “How do you know to use knives?” He asks bluntly.

She smiles a little, the dark look reappearing behind her eyes. “I think that is a story for another time,” she says, standing up. “That is, if you’d like to be friends.” When Andrew doesn’t answer that, her smile grows a little wider, something knowing in it that Andrew dislikes. “Well. I’ll see you later, hm? I think the others are leaving now.”

Andrew looks back to the stadium doors to see the other Foxes emerging from the stadium behind them, watching the two of them warily. He snorts, and stands up, brushing the dust from his jeans.

“How about Thursday?” Renee suggests.

Andrew nods in agreement, turning to leave.

“You don’t want to catch a ride back with us?” Renee calls to his retreating back.

Andrew almost laughs, fishing a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“What were you talking to him about?” He hears Dan ask Renee ask the Foxes near the parking lot.

“Nothing much,” Renee says. “Just a little team bonding.”

 

Andrew stubs out his mostly finished cigarette on the concrete wall of the dorm building, and pockets the stump for later. The dorms are busy with people, crowding the hallways with bags and boxes and family members.

He unlocks the door to his own dorm, side stepping a stack of cardboard boxes piled around the entryway. He can hear raised voices from down the hall as he locks the door behind him.

Seth was ranting angrily as he threw his bags down on one of the empty beds. “And to make it worse, we get stuck with a fucking psycho as a sub and a roommate!”

“Seth-” Matt tried, noticing Andrew entering the room.

“Shut up,” Seth snarls, and rounds on Andrew. “We were a bad joke; now we’re a practical one. I can’t believe Coach signed off on another freak! We’re going to be eliminated before we even step foot on the court. We were supposed to make it this year. I trusted him to pick our sub because he said he could get us past the championship death match. But this is repulsive.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows slowly, unimpressed by Seth’s temper tantrum.

“Seth, come on-” Matt cut in, attempting to calm his roommate down before the situation escalated.

But Seth waves him off, instead narrowing in on Andrew. “I don’t care if Kevin says you’re meant to be some superstar goalkeeper. You can’t just point knives people. But I guess you don’t know how to act like an actual person, huh? You’re a fucking psycho just like Neil, and I don’t want you here.”

Andrew’s hands twitch towards his armbands. Matt notices the movement and attempted to pull Seth back.

“I bet you’re just like your gross cousin too, huh? You’re probably a fucking faggo-”

Seth doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a thin razor-sharp blade presses against his throat. Matt flinches back violently, and Seth goes still. “What the fuck!” Matt exclaims, his hands tugging at his hair.

Sweat beads at Seth’s brow, his hands spasming uselessly at his sides.

“I don’t like that word,” Andrew snarls. “Don’t use it.”

Seth’s eyes flickers down to the knife, and Andrew caught Matt trying to edge forward in the corner of his eye and sends him a warning glance.

“Let me get this into your thick skull,” Andrew says. “Don’t say that word. Don’t even fucking talk to me. I’m not interested in your temper tantrums.”

Andrew shoots Matt a look as he comes up beside them. He lowers the knife from Seth’s neck and slides the knife back into its sheath.

He pushes past the two of them to the door. “You’re both fucking stupid, by the way.”

He leaves the dorm, slamming the door shut behind him. Introductions were going great, he muses to himself.

When he enters the hall, the girls turn to look at him from where they have gathered outside their own dorm. Renee smiled at him, and Dan scowled, her earlier warmth entirely gone.

He is about to move past them when Nicky comes running up to them, looking panicked. “Hey, Renee,” he grimaces. “You mind calling Neil’s phone?”

“Did he lose it?” Renee asks, concerned, pulling her own out of her pocket.

“I did,” Nicky says. “And, uh, the man carrying it. He’s not answering any of my calls, and I know it’s charged because I plugged it in myself.”

Allison snorts. “Didn’t Coach tell you to keep an eye on him tonight?”

Nicky shot her an annoyed look. “I know. You try doing it. He’s like a feral animal. Always running off. It’s like he’s allergic to sitting still.”

“Where’s Kevin?” Dan demands, her brow furrowing.

“Hasn’t left his bed since we got back.” Nicky answers, worried. “Aaron’s watching him.”

Renee fishes her phone out of her pocket, holding her hand up for silence. She held it up to her ear as it rang. “Hey,” she smiles. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight, but Nicky said you wandered off. Did you go on a run?” she nodded a little as Neil answered from the other end. “Oh? All right then. Tomorrow, then? After lunch? Okay. Have a nice night.”

She hangs up and slides her phone into her back pocket. “He’s at Coach’s,” she tells Nicky, who sighs in relief, closing his eyes. “Coach wanted to make sure he took his medicine.” She smiles at Nicky and squeezes his arm in reassurance. He smiles back at him.

Andrew takes this as his cue to leave, and heads back down to the elevators where he had just come from minutes ago, leaving the others to gossip.

He’s in the mood for ice cream.

Notes:

comments and kudos are very very much appreciated :DD

Chapter 7

Summary:

eden's.

Notes:

Sorry for the wait lol i was a bit busy

but on BETTER news i have finally managed to somewhat figure out where i want this fic to go so im not just pulling chapters out of my ass :))

(chapter has been re-uploaded)

Trigger Warnings:
Drug use, explicit language, alcohol, underage drinking, explicit description of vomiting(in the last quarter of the chapter), knives

Team training was a disaster. The upperclassmen barring Seth had lost a little of their hostility towards Andrew, possibly for the sake of team unity (which was non-existent anyway), but still maintained a wide berth between themselves and Andrew’s personal space. His brother still hated him, Kevin was an unbearable asshole, and Nicky kept flashing him sideways glances. Andrew wanted nothing to do with Neil so at this point, only Renee seemed to be amiable to him.

Good thing he was in the goal and not the court. If he had to deal front-on with the clashing sides of the Foxes he would’ve considered quitting college on the spot.

He leaned on his racquet, bored out of his mind. The others hadn’t been able to make an attempt on his goal yet and Kevin was currently reaming them out for it.

Neil, the team’s psychopathic nuisance, was on court too. The drugs didn’t make playing with him any easier. If anything, based on how Andrew had seen him play while going through withdrawal and ready to vomit any second, they made him worse.

He did laps of the court when play got too boring, picked fights, and laughed obnoxiously whenever someone missed their shot. Seth had tried to hit him on several occasions, and once even took a swing with his racquet which Neil dodged nimbly.

He has no idea how this team made it to championships last spring.

When Wymack finally calls the end of practice, Andrew is already halfway off court, pulling his helmet off.

Nicky jogs up beside him as he enters the locker rooms, looking hesitant. “Hey, Andrew…” he started, carefully watching Andrew’s reaction. “Um. Did you – Well, Neil wants you to come to Eden’s with us.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows silently, waiting for Nicky to continue.

“It’s – it’s a nightclub. We’re going to get ice cream first and then go drinking.”

Well. Who was he to say no to ice cream and alcohol? “Fine,” he relents, setting his helmet down on the bench.

Nicky beams at him, perking up. “Great! We’ll pick you up at nine, okay?”

 

When nine o’clock rolls around, Andrew is already regretting his choices. Nicky was driving with Kevin parked in the back seat. Aaron had refused to sit next to him, so
Neil sat sandwiched between them.

Nicky was trying to rope them into a conversation but only Aaron bothered to answer. Kevin and Andrew were ignoring him, and Neil has passed out half an hour ago, the calmest Andrew had ever seen him. Andrew spends his time watching the lights of the city go by, distracting himself from Neil’s thigh pressing against his.

When the car’s headlights start flashing over exit signs for Columbia, Nicky looks back at him through the rear-view mirror. “Wake Neil up, will you?” he asks, flexing his grip  on the steering wheel.

Andrew glances over to Neil’s sleeping form and nudges the side of his leg with his boot. Neil wakes with a violent start, his elbow flying out and catching Andrew in the face. Andrew presses a hand to his now throbbing nose and sends a glare in Neil’s direction.

Neil ignores him, instead leaning between the front seats to see the road.

“Where’s the exit?” Nicky asks.

“The one after next,” Neil says, and then slumps back into his seat. His hands are trembling, white knuckled around his seat belt. Andrew notices scars on the backs of his hands, as if his knuckles have been split open. “Nicky,” he growls, voice thick with pain.

Nicky glances back quickly, frowning.

“Nicky,” Neil says again, more frantic. “Pull over.”

“I can’t. We’re on an exit ramp.”

Neil slams a fist into the back of Nicky’s seat. “Pull over,”

Nicky doesn’t argue again, and swerves to the side, pulling up into the almost non-existent shoulder lane. Horns blare as cars fly past, but Neil pays no mind. He throws the door open and collapses onto his knees.

He begins to dry-heave into the weeds, his entire body shaking like he has a fever. He sounds like he is trying to shred his oesophagus into ribbons.

“Neil,” Nicky says. “We can get you some crackers-“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Neil snarls, his voice ragged with acidic bile. He wipes a hand across his mouth harshly, and staggers back into the car.

“Neil-”

“Shut up. Just get us there.” Neil says, closing his eyes, his face a grimace, hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt. The others scramble back into the car behind him.

Nicky floors it, but by the time they arrive in Columbia it is too late for dinner. They pull up to a restaurant called Sweetie’s, the name emblazoned across the front of the store in bright neon lettering.

They were seated in a booth near the back of the diner, Aaron and Nicky splitting a handful of plastic-wrapped crackers.

A waitress approaches their table, and Nicky waves the menus away. “We’re just here for the ice cream special,” he says brightly.

“No problem,” she says. “I’ll get that right to you.”

Aaron shoves the empty wrappers into her apron’s front pocket. The woman doesn’t bat an eye, swiftly moving on to help the next table.

Neil has a shaking hand pressed against his mouth, sweat beading at his brow. Kevin reaches into his pocket and withdraws a pill bottle, placing it between them. “Just take it,” he says.

Neil, face devoid of any false cheer, grabs Kevin’s retreating arm and grips it so tightly Andrew can almost hear the bones creak. “Fuck you,” he says harshly.

“Neil.”

“Put them away before I gut you.” Neil snarls, voice as gentle as a gravel driveway, releasing Kevin’s arm. Kevin pales very slightly and tucks the bottle out of sight.

While not having experienced it firsthand, Andrew had seen similar things in juvie. What he didn’t understand was why Neil was so adamant against taking the pills. It didn’t seem to be doing him any good.

The waitress arrives shortly after, placing bowls of ice cream in front of them, accompanied by a stack of napkins. Nicky places the stack of napkins in his bag not-to-discretely. Noticing Andrew’s gaze, Nicky grins.

“Cracker dust,” he says. “Non addictive. Gives you a little buzz. You wanna try it later?”

Andrew stares at him. “No.”

“Oh, come on-” Nicky cuts himself off as he notices Neil’s sharp look of warning. “Uh. Well, try the ice cream! It’s good.”

Andrew elects to ignore whatever happened between Neil and Nicky, instead placing a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, letting the chocolate dissolve over his tongue.

 

Eden’s was loud. The club was bright and flashing and filled with people, their booth sticky with sweat and other unidentifiable substances.

Nicky staggers over with a tray piled impossibly high with all kinds of alcohol, smiling widely. He sets it down on the table, and Kevin pounces on the drinks like a dehydrated dog. Aaron and Nicky begin to make their way slowly through the tray, meeting Kevin halfway.

Andrew takes the glass of beer offered to him and sips it methodically, looking over the pulsing dance floor.

Neil stares at the drink tray, hands shaking uncontrollably. He sits there long enough for Nicky and Aaron to get bored of the drinks and make their way to the dance floor. Eventually, something in him caves, and he downs a shot of whiskey in one go, slamming the glass back onto the table with surprising force.

Andrew raises his eyebrows at Neil, who scowls at him, his trembling lessening a little with the alcohol’s influence. They sit in silence until Nicky and Aaron return to down the packets of cracker dust.

Neil stands up abruptly, making the table clatter dangerously, and darts off into the crowd, looking sickly. Nicky pauses in downing the packet of yellow dust to watch him leave. “Where’s he going?” he asks.

“To puke, probably,” Aaron replies, washing a packet down with a swig of some brightly coloured liquor.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Nicky asks Andrew, and he responds with a sharp look. Nicky accepts that by dragging Aaron off again, who hasn’t looked at Andrew for the entirety of the night.

Andrew looks over to Kevin, who is staring at the empty tray with a glazed, empty look. He glances down at his own finished beer, the foamy dregs settling at the bottom of the glass.

He stands, placing his glass down on the tray. Kevin, so deeply intoxicated, barely notices. Andrew walks in the direction Neil has gone, pushing his way through the crowd, snatching a sealed water bottle off a tray a bartender was preparing. He pushes open the back door of the club and exits into the night.

 

The damp alleyway behind Eden’s smelt of smoke, garbage, and vomit. Andrew wrinkles his nose as steps out of the nightclub, the pungent air like a fist to his face. He hears wet retching coming from the other side of one of the overflowing dumpsters, most likely the source of the strong vomit stench. He rounds the dumpster to find Neil, slumped against the alley wall, gagging over a small puddle of yellow bile.

Neil looks up at him with squinted eyes, clearly feeling like shit, and Andrew notices that his eyes are red, irritated, and shockingly blue.

“Having fun?” Andrew drawls.

Neil snarls wordlessly at him, spitting the remnants of his stomach lining onto the ground. Andrew holds out the sealed water bottle that he had taken before, and Neil snatches it from his grip and rips the cap off, washing it around before spitting and then downing half of it in one swig.

Andrew places his hands in his pockets, and Neil leans to the side, his temple knocking against the brick wall. The withdrawal has erased Neil’s seemingly permanent grin, and Andrew is a little put off without it. Even though his smile is plenty unsettling, his sober stare was a thousand times more so.

Neil raises the bottle in his hand, looking to Andrew. “Why?” he asks hoarsely, voice unfamiliarly flat. “I thought you hated me.”

“Every inch of you. But I’d rather not be in a car with someone with puke-breath.” Andrew leans against the opposite wall, watching as Neil straightens up from his crouched position. He doesn’t move from beside the puddle, obviously exhausted, but he wrinkles his nose at the smell.

"That isn't really a reason," Neil says, almost to himself.

“You don’t smile much without the drugs.” Andrew says, sidestepping that conversation.

Neil runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t either," he says, accepting the change in topic in a way a drugged Neil never would have. “How touching. We’ve got something in common.”

Andrew shrugs, fiddling with his armbands. Despite the disgusting smell of the alley, the air was cold and quiet, a significant improvement from the claustrophobic and sweaty mess of Eden’s.

Neil sighs, staggering to his feet. He offers Andrew a mocking two-fingered salute and heads back inside.

After a moment, Andrew follows him back in.

Notes:

hope everyone enjoyed andrew and neil being slightly less hostile towards each other heheh

next chapter will be the house in columbia (talks w neil & andrew, talks with aaron & andrew, talks with nicky & andrew... the whole shebang)

hope u all have a nice day and please comment :DDD

Chapter 8

Summary:

the house in columbia

Notes:

it is me again :)

(chapter has been re-uploaded)

Trigger Warnings:
Explicit language, implied child abuse, people mocking child abuse, knives, drug use, underage drinking

 

The house in Columbia smelt thickly of bacon and toast when Andrew woke up the next morning. Andrew rolls over, pulling the sheets back slowly. The alarm clock next to the bed reads 10:03 in little LED numbers.

When they had left Eden’s last night, Andrew had had to drive them all to the house since no one was sober except for him. Neil would have been had he not taken his next dose of meds and reverted back to being crazy, so he hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the wheel. They’d stumbled inside, most of them passing out on couches and the floor.

Andrew had gone upstairs and taken a bedroom, locked the door, and passed out within minutes.

He unlocks the door and enters the hallway, adjusting his armbands as he pads down the corridor. He follows the smell of frying food downstairs to find Nicky cooking breakfast over the kitchen stove. Kevin was half on the couch, half on the floor, a blanket draped haphazardly over him.

Nicky grins at Andrew. “Morning,” he says. “Want breakfast?”

Andrew grunts in response, slumping into one of the chairs.e

“Neil’s out. Gone running, the maniac. Aaron and Kevin haven’t gotten up yet, obviously.” Nicky chatters, jerking his head to Kevin’s prone form. He slides a loaded plate in front of Andrew, sitting across from him with a similarly large portion.

Nicky smiles at him as Andrew begins to eat. “Have fun last night?”

Andrew glances upwards briefly, offering a flat stare of disagreement before turning his attention back to his food. Nicky is silent for a few blissful seconds before opening his mouth and interrupting Andrew’s peaceful quiet. “After Tilda died…” he starts, “Why didn’t you come live with me and Aaron? I would’ve taken care of you, you know. But you got emancipated instead and now Aaron hates you. Is there – is there a reason why?”

Andrew stares at Nicky for a long second, fork held loosely in his hand. It was too early for this kind of talk, and he hasn’t even had a drop of coffee yet. “I didn’t know you,” He says simply.

When Tilda overdosed and died, Andrew was still in juvie. He’d met Aaron exactly once, during visiting hours at the prison, and all he’d done was stare at Andrew like a deer caught in headlights, his wide eyes tracking Andrew’s every move while Luther blabbed on and on about something Andrew didn’t particularly care about (family, school, good old Christian values, the usual).  Andrew had never met Nicky before then, and once he was released, he had no intentions of moving in with another stranger.

Aaron was safe, and better off with Nicky. It really wasn’t all that complicated.

“So you respond to my calls telling me to fuck off?” Aaron interrupts, standing in the kitchen doorway, voice dripping with venom.

Andrew doesn’t grace him with an answer, instead electing to start on his bacon, regretting ever agreeing to come. Not even ice cream was worth all of this.

“Stop ignoring me,” Aaron hisses, slamming a hand on the table. Nicky jumped up, trying to tug him back, but Aaron shoves him off. “All I ever wanted was a brother. Family. You didn’t even have to live with us. But you could’ve at least called, or - or bothered to acknowledge my existence.”

Andrew puts his fork down to look up and meet his brother’s gaze. “You don’t get to ask for family when you already had one.” He says slowly, maintaining eye contact. “I don’t owe you anything. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you. Go cry to your dead fucking mother about how sad that is for you.”

Aaron jerks backwards, his face pale. Nicky makes a strangled whining noise, reaching for Aaron’s shoulders. Andrew stands and picks up his plate, acutely aware of the weight of his knives against his forearms, the skin prickling.

“You’re running away?” Aaron snaps at him. “That’s all you know to do, isn’t it? You up and leave every time someone tries to talk to you. Get your head out of your ass and into the real fucking world.”

Andrew goes still, and the kitchen is entirely silent save for Nicky’s panicked attempts to pull Aaron away.

“What, are you going to pull a knife on me or something you out-of-touch freak?” Aaron asks, voice rising with every word.

Andrew puts his half empty plate down and turns to face him. “Little kiddies like you don’t get to talk about the real world. What, your mother slapped you around a bit? Grow up. Find someone else to whimper about it to. I don’t care. I came here to attend college, not to give your ouches a kiss and make everything better.”

He turns and leaves the house, ignoring Nicky’s attempts to call him back. The door slams shut behind him, silencing the sound of his brother’s agitated yell. He slides into one of the porch seats, looking up at the morning sky, sun hanging low, and the clouds stained a faint clam pink. Maybe leaving just to sit on the porch was petty, but he had nowhere else to go.

Andrew tugs a crumpled cigarette out of his pocket, lights it, and places it between his lips. He makes his way through two more by the time Neil comes back from his run, sweaty and bedraggled.

Neil spots him on the porch as he makes his way up the driveway to the house, and he smiles widely, waving a hand, last night’s fleeting sobriety all but a memory in the face of his shark-like grin.  Andrew stubs his last cigarette out and tosses the butt into the grass.

“Don’t you know smoking’s bad for you?” Neil asks in a faux-innocent tone, widening his eyes mockingly He grins at Andrew’s look of annoyance. “Who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

“Are you always this obnoxious or is it the drugs?” Andrew says irritably.

Neil laughs. “I’ve always been a nuisance,” he replies. “It’s one of my many charms."

“I have a deal to make you,” Andrew says bluntly, fingernail skimming the edge of his armband.

Neil raises his brows, “A deal?” he drawls. “What kind?”

“A mutual exchange,” Andrew replies. “Of sorts.”

“Oh?” Neil says in a high voice, a nauseating imitation of sweetness.

“I don’t trust you.” Andrew says brusquely. “I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. But you spend the most time with my brother, so here’s my deal: I’ll ask you a question and you’ll tell me the truth.”

Neil’s expression shutters for a brief second before he plasters his smile back on. “Why should I?”

Andrew leans forward, his lip curling. “Because you’re a runner. You called me a runaway, but it’s you who’s the rabbit. You’re hiding from someone, and I can protect you and by extension my brother from them. In return, you tell me the truth.”

The air is thick with a low-hanging silence. Neil - while still smiling – has a scarily blank expression. He tilts his head to the side. “That seems a little unbalanced. How about this: I’ll tell you the truth if you tell me yours. I trust you as much as you do me, and I’m not a fan of unknown outliers.”

“Not interested in protection?”

Neil’s smile turns bitter. “Please. You can’t protect me from anything with your little knives.”

“And you can?” Andrew retorts. “You’re so busy watching Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron’s backs. Who’s watching yours?”

“Who’s watching yours, foster child?” Neil snaps, suddenly blunt and angry. “I don’t want your protection. I don’t need it. What I do want, however, is the truth. That’s the only deal you’re getting.”

“So you accept?” Andrew says, leaning back in his chair. “Truth for a truth?”

Neil stares at him with his fake brown eyes for a long second, and Andrew thinks back to last night – Neil’s blue eyes and a cold alleyway. Then Neil throws his head back and laughs, loud and grating. “Fine. I accept. Mutual exchange and all that.”

“And all that,” Andrew echoes.

Neil looks back over to him after a beat, eyes glinting with malice. “Who knew you actually cared about your brother?” he says, in a faux shocked voice. “Hiding a soft and squishy inside from us, are you?”

Andrew’s subsequent glare only widens Neil’s smile. “That is none of your business,” he states flatly.

“Oh, but that’s the best kind,” Neil laughs, reaching for the doorhandle. “Maybe that’ll be my first truth.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Andrew, amusement dancing across his face.

“Go away,” Andrew says.

“Getting rid of me already?” Neil asks, opening the door. “And here I was thinking that we bonded.”

Notes:

kevin was asleep on the couch the entire chapter btw

comments and kudos are appreciated!!

Chapter 9

Summary:

therapy and knife lessons

Notes:

helloo

ngl im not the biggest fan of this chapter (its also shorter than i wanted..) but i hope you all enjoy anyway :))

have a very nice day!

(chapter has been re-uploaded!)

Trigger warnings:
Gangs, murder, knives, implied sexual assault, the foster system, prison, violence

A little while later, a timid looking Nicky pokes his head out and tells him they’re about to leave. Andrew heads back inside to collect his things, avoiding the kitchen where his brother and Nicky are still sitting. In the car, Neil is placed between Aaron and Andrew in someone’s feeble attempt at keeping the two of them from committing fratricide.

Nicky and Neil talk through the entire car ride; their conversation punctuated by Kevin’s snoring. He had woken up briefly to stumble into the car and then passed back out again as soon as his head hit the head rest. Aaron refuses to look in Andrew’s direction and Andrew isn’t at all impressed at the childish tantrum he seems to be having.

They arrive back at campus in the late morning, where they find Renee waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Hi, Andrew,” she smiles. The others spill out of the car, Nicky flicking glances of suspicion between the two of them. “Did you have a nice time? You’ve got your first session with Betsy scheduled for today - right after mine, so I thought I’d drive you there with me.”

Andrew shrugs noncommittally and follows her to her vehicle, so very enthused to spend even more time in a car - even more so to go to a shrink.

Renee pulls out of the campus car park and onto the road carefully, “I was thinking we could have our lesson after your appointment,” she says, eyes still on the road. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Sure.” Andrew replies, and they spend the rest of the ride in silence.

They park outside of the Reddin Medical Centre building and take the lift up to the psychiatry offices. They sign in at a small reception area, writing their names on a clipboard form.

Renee heads inside for her session, leaving Andrew alone in the waiting room. The waiting room was cramped and yellowed, a small television perched in the corner playing a medical drama with the volume turned so low it was almost silent. There was no one else in the room save for the receptionist standing over a malfunctioning printer.

Andrew sits himself down in one of the overstuffed blue armchairs and waits, eyes following the peeling edges of the wallpaper.

His name is called after a period of time and he is almost grateful - the ticking of the clock was starting to get on his nerves.

He passes Renee in the hallway, who smiles encouragingly at him, and pushes open the office door.

“Hello Andrew,” Betsy Dobson greets. The room is pristinely clean and neat compared to the falling-apart waiting room. A couch faces Betsy’s armchair with a small wooden table separating the two, shelves lined with meticulously kept books, and a large window.

Andrew sits himself on the couch and folds his arms across his chest. He’s been to shrinks before – mostly in juvie - and needless to say he isn’t very enthusiastic to be here.

“Do you mind being called Andrew? Or prefer Mr. Minyard? Or maybe a nickname?” She asks evenly, a notepad balanced on her knees.

“Andrew is fine.” He says after a minute. She smiles, and he hates it.

“You can call me whatever you’d like,” she says. “Betsy, Dr. Dobson. Or just ‘hey you’... Some people also call me Bee,” She smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

Andrew stares at her.

If his silence phases her, she doesn’t show it. “Well, Andrew, why don’t we start off with you telling me a little bit about yourself? Where are you from?”

He considers the idea of staying silent, refusing to answer, and staring blankly at her for the rest of the session. “California,” he says instead.

“David told me he scouted you from Arizona. So you moved there after California?”

“Yes.”

“Is there any reason why?” she asks, folding her hands across her notebook.

“No.” If given the chance, he would have moved cross-country. But he didn’t have the funds, so Arizona had to be far enough.

Betsy spends the rest of the session asking simple personal questions, and Andrew answers most of them (surprising even himself). When the hour is up, he stands to leave. “It was nice to meet you,” Betsy says kindly, and Andrew almost thinks she means it.

Renee meets him in the hallway. “You up for our lesson?” she asks. Andrew nods, and she inclines her head towards the door behind them. “How was Betsy?”

“Fine,” he replies. “It was fine.”

 

They arrive at the Foxhole Court a short time later, and Andrew raises a brow at her. Renee shrugs. “We won’t be interrupted here,” she says, pocketing her keys.

She leads him down to an empty office and locks the door behind them. The room was bare, save for a few gym mats on the floor. “Neil and I spar here sometimes,” she explains. “The room isn’t used for anything else, so Coach let us have it.” Renee pulls her jacket off over her head and throws it neatly into the corner of the room. “Can I see your knives?”

Andrew tugs the knives out of his armbands carefully, balancing them in his hands. He has six in all, three on each arm. He’d found the set in the back of some dingy pawn shop in Millport and had considered stealing them, but the owner had been watching him like a hawk the second he’d walked in, so he forked over the money, deeming it a worthwhile purchase.

Renee studies them, her face cautiously still. “Can I take one?” she asks.

“Yes,” Andrew says.  Renee took one, her fingers careful and feather-light.

She palms the blade with a practiced grip, holding it up to the light. “Where did you learn to use them?” she asks.

“I didn’t,” Andrew answers. “It’s not that hard to stab someone.”

“Have you stabbed someone?”

“No. Most people don’t go any further at the sight of them,” Andrew says, slipping the rest of the blades back into their sheathes. He looks over to Renee, whose face was strangely blank, still considering the weapon in her palm. “Have you used them against someone?”

“Yes. I’ve… had a lot of experience with them.”

“You killed someone?” Andrew asks bluntly, and Renee smiles tightly.

“I was part of a gang,” she says. “There was a man who showed a… certain interest in me. He liked knives, so I taught myself how to use them. And then I challenged him to a fight and killed him. The gang leader found out, promoted me, and pinned his death on another gang. And then I just kept using them – until I got arrested and put in the foster system, where I found my mother, and through her I found God.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Andrew says.

Renee smiles a little wider, more real. “I don’t know you all that well yet, but I wanted you to know that at least I can understand you. I… I didn’t read your file or anything, but Coach told me you were in juvie. And the foster system, and I thought maybe we’d understand each other.”

Andrew stares at her for a minute, crossing his arms over his chest. He let out a breath and opens his mouth. “There was one house,” he says carefully. “The woman’s son-” Andrew clamps his mouth shut. “I needed to get out, so I wrecked a car on purpose and got myself thrown in juvie.”

Renee considers this, her face gentle. “You didn’t need to tell me that but thank you.”

Andrew shrugs awkwardly. “Mutual exchange. I don’t believe in sharing things unless you receive something equal back.”

“Neil said something similar,” Renee muses. Andrew glares at her, and she laughs, the tension easing out of her shoulders a little.

“Did you teach him how to use knives, too?” He asks.

“No,” she replies, handing his knife back. “He already knew how. We just spar. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Let’s begin our lesson, shall we?”

Notes:

comments and kudos are appreciated!!

also idk if anyone reads these end notes but i was thinking of writing an aftg fic based off my original story - basically a horror fantasy fic with supernatural horror (themes of faeries, witch hunting and necromancy) - would anyone be interested in reading it?

ANYWAY, thanks for reading and i hope you all have a lovely day/night!!

Chapter 10

Summary:

lunch with the foxes

Notes:

Hi!! its me :))

this chapter is late and also short but i have been SO BUSY so its all ur gonna get for now - sorry!!

(this chapter has been re-uploaded!)

Trigger Warnings:
Knives, dead mothers, death, attempted murder, assault

They arrive at the Foxhole Court a short time later, and Andrew raises a brow at her. Renee shrugs. “We won’t be interrupted here,” she says, pocketing her keys.

She leads him down to an empty office and locks the door behind them. The room was bare, save for a few gym mats on the floor. “Neil and I spar here sometimes,” she explains. “The room isn’t used for anything else, so Coach let us have it.” Renee pulls her jacket off over her head and throws it neatly into the corner of the room. “Can I see your knives?”

Andrew tugs the knives out of his armbands carefully, balancing them in his hands. He has six in all, three on each arm. He’d found the set in the back of some dingy pawn shop in Millport and had considered stealing them, but the owner had been watching him like a hawk the second he’d walked in, so he forked over the money, deeming it a worthwhile purchase.

Renee studies them, her face cautiously still. “Can I take one?” she asks.

“Yes,” Andrew says.  Renee took one, her fingers careful and feather-light.

She palms the blade with a practiced grip, holding it up to the light. “Where did you learn to use them?” she asks.

“I didn’t,” Andrew answers. “It’s not that hard to stab someone.”

“Have you stabbed someone?”

“No. Most people don’t go any further at the sight of them,” Andrew says, slipping the rest of the blades back into their sheathes. He looks over to Renee, whose face was strangely blank, still considering the weapon in her palm. “Have you used them against someone?”

“Yes. I’ve… had a lot of experience with them.”

“You killed someone?” Andrew asks bluntly, and Renee smiles tightly.

“I was part of a gang,” she says. “There was a man who showed a… certain interest in me. He liked knives, so I taught myself how to use them. And then I challenged him to a fight and killed him. The gang leader found out, promoted me, and pinned his death on another gang. And then I just kept using them – until I got arrested and put in the foster system, where I found my mother, and through her I found God.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Andrew says.

Renee smiles a little wider, more real. “I don’t know you all that well yet, but I wanted you to know that at least I can understand you. I… I didn’t read your file or anything, but Coach told me you were in juvie. And the foster system, and I thought maybe we’d understand each other.”

Andrew stares at her for a minute, crossing his arms over his chest. He let out a breath and opens his mouth. “There was one house,” he says carefully. “The woman’s son-” Andrew clamps his mouth shut. “I needed to get out, so I wrecked a car on purpose and got myself thrown in juvie.”

Renee considers this, her face gentle. “You didn’t need to tell me that but thank you.”

Andrew shrugs awkwardly. “Mutual exchange. I don’t believe in sharing things unless you receive something equal back.”

“Neil said something similar,” Renee muses. Andrew glares at her, and she laughs, the tension easing out of her shoulders a little.

“Did you teach him how to use knives, too?” He asks.

“No,” she replies, handing his knife back. “He already knew how. We just spar. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Let’s begin our lesson, shall we?”

 

 

 

Renee circles him, as he stands with a knife in the centre of a mat. “Feet further apart,” she says, kicking his ankles with a socked foot. “Shoulders back as well.” He adjusts his stance accordingly, and she nods.

Her usual compassionate demeanour is all but gone, instead replaced with a cold assurance. “You don’t want a drawn-out fight,” she says, her arms crossed over her chest. “So, you need to aim for the soft spots. Neck, groin and abdomen.” She gestures to the points on her own body.

She runs him through the basics on grip and stance, correcting him as he moves. She shows him how to strike with force and how to handle a blade without cutting himself open on accident.

Eventually, Renee calls time and she drives him back to the dorms. “This was nice,” she says as they part in the hallway. “I’m looking forward to our next lesson,” she smiles, and the usual Renee is back again, exuding a gentle calm. Andrew nods shortly, and heads back to his dorm, which he finds empty, his roommates nowhere to be found within.

 

Two days later, Andrew is coming back from a shift at the nearby bar when he comes across Neil holding a cigarette, sat on the curb outside the back entrance of the dorms.

“What would your mother think?” Andrew drawls, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Neil drags his eyes up to look at him, cigarette dangling loosely between two fingers. He grins, and drops the stick to the ground, grinding the cherry out with the sole of his shoe. “Don’t got one of those,” Neil says in lieu of a greeting. “Not anymore, anyway.”

“What? Did you kill her?” Andrew asks.

Neil’s grin flickers for a moment before returning in full force. “Did you kill yours?”

“I don’t have a mother.”

“Now that much is obvious,” Neil crows, laughter ringing in the cold afternoon air. “You ready for our little truth game yet?” He asks. “You look like you’re dying to ask me something.” He flings his arms out wide, “Go on, then.”

Andrew raises a brow, unimpressed, but he speaks anyway. “That man you almost killed-” Andrew starts, “who was he?”

Neil’s grin widens, and he crosses his legs, drumming his fingers against his thighs. “Now that’s an interesting question,” he muses, tapping a finger to his chin mockingly. “Hmm. His name was Romero. Big dumb bastard, he was. I never really liked him, and I don’t think he liked me either.” Neil frowns exaggeratedly, tilting his head to the side like he was trying to imitate sad dog eyes- and failing badly.

“You knew him before you tried to kill him?”

“Ah-ah,” Neil sings, wagging a finger at Andrew. “That’s two questions. I haven’t even asked one. So greedy!” He chuckles, threading his fingers together atop his knees.

“What did you want to know, then?” Andrew says flatly, raising his brows in expectation.

“Where’d you learn to play Exy?” Neil asks, and Andrew levels him with a disgusted look.

“Are you allergic to having a personality outside of sports?” Andrew drawls, and Neil barks a laugh. “I learnt in juvie. I needed something to pass the time, and they thought putting me in goal would keep me from attacking the other players in scrimmages.”

“Ooh,” Neil fake-grimaces. “And here I thought you were a good little pacifist.”

“Do you ever tire of being insufferably annoying?”

Neil throws his head back and laughs, loud and grating. When his laughter eventually wanes off, ee stands up abruptly, brushing dust off his pants. “Farewell,” Neil says, dipping into a mocking bow. “I’d say this has been pleasant but that would be lying.”

Neil disappears around the corner, and Andrew is blissfully alone for all of ten seconds before someone calls his name.

He turns to see Renee as she approaches, “We’re heading out for lunch; do you want to come?”

The rest of the upperclassmen stand around Renee, looking unbearably awkward. Seth is absent from their little group, which Andrew concludes as Allison and him being on the outs again. Andrew ignores the rest of the group’s not-so-whispered conversation as he nods hesitantly in agreement.

"Ooh, are we getting lunch?" Neil exclaims, peering out from behind Matt. Matt jumps in surprise, and Neil snickers. Andrew glances subtly around the corner in confusion where Neil had just disappeared a mere minute ago.

"Uh-" Matt starts, leaning away from Neil, who beams up at him.

"Would you like to join us too, Neil?" Renee says, smiling. Allison glares at her.

"Sure," Neil crows, grin splitting his face. "I'd love to." He strode off into the car park, a black duffel bag swinging from his shoulder.

"Renee, what the fuck?" Allison hisses as soon as he fell out of earshot. "Why did you invite the monster?"

Renee frowned. "Don't call him that, Allie. Neil's a part of the team, and I want him to have lunch with us."

Allison groans. "Fine! Fine. He can come. But I'm not paying for him."

 

Neil and Andrew end up in Renee’s car on the way to the café, with the rest of the upperclassmen in Matt’s truck. It was to no one’s surprise that the upperclassmen hadn’t wanted to spend an extended period of time in a small, enclosed space with Neil.

In the café, Neil ends up sitting next to him, stretching his legs out underneath the crowded table. His elbow digs into Andrew's ribs as he leans over to grab the menus from Allison. Andrew glares at him, and Neil grins back, ignoring Allison's protests as he shuffles through the stack.

Andrew snatches one of the menus from his hands to look through the menu as Allison’s complaints grew in volume. Eventually, Renee manages to take the menus off Neil and hand them out in time for the waitress to stop by.

By the time their food had arrived, Dan looks on the verge of a violent murder and Renee has somehow managed to get Neil and Allison calm enough that they were no longer about to get the group kicked out.

Halfway through the meal Andrew was beginning to sympathise with Dan’s previous homicidal inclinations when Allison began to make suggestive comments about his and Renee’s knife lesson. “I’m just saying- Neil and Renee disappear for hours alone several times a week but Neil’s like, a psychopath -”

“Wow, I’m flattered” Neil interrupts, mumbling through a mouthful of a salad wrap.

“-So Renee obviously wouldn’t be interested in him, and, hey- Andrew – you’re not as crazy. I’m only judging you a little bit, Renee, but good for you-”

Andrew stands and leaves, his chair scraping the floor, abandoning his plate of mostly finished Nutella crepes and walks out of the café. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. Barely seconds after he hears someone come after him, the café’s bell ringing as the door is pushed open.

“Andrew,” Renee says softly from behind him. “Andrew- I told Allison not to say those things but nobody can stop her from doing anything, not really – but I'm sorry if they made you uncomfortable in there," she says earnestly. "But... just so you know – That’s not how this is. I'm not interested in men."

Andrew drags his gaze over to her. "I am," he says dully, lighting his cigarette with a flick of his thumb.

Renee blinks at him, and he stares back, exhaling smoke. Her face breaks open in a hesitant smile and she begins to laugh brightly.

The corner of Andrew's mouth twitches upwards.

Notes:

yoooo :)))
kudos/comments are appreciated!

TO EVERYONE WHO WAS INTERESTED IN THE AFTG HORROR FIC:
the first chapter has been posted here: so rot, ferment and decompose
go check that out!!

 

also also next chapter is the kathy interview so get excited for that >:)

EDIT: OCT 2024
been getting a lot of comments asking when I'm coming back guys I swear I'll continue this fic if it kills me 🙏🙏
I have been like insanely horrifyingly busy for the past year and it's only gonna get worse for me for the next few months (I've also gotten crazy burnout bc of this year so I am just like dead fuckn tired and not in the mood for fanfic writing) BUT GUYS I SWEAR ILL GET IT DONE!! I'm really excited for the future chaps bc I have a load of stuff planned but yet again I am foiled by my stupidly busy life. I have a much needed break coming next year so I'll (hopefully) be able to update more then.

also a heads up I'm gonna be editing/reuploading/condensing chapters (might reduce the chap amount) bc I think a year+ after my last update I can improve on the quality of my writing n all that stuff

Nyway hope u guys still enjoy this fic love all the comments they make my day :)) BYE FOR NOW 🫡🫡🫡

-fish🐟

Chapter 11

Summary:

foxes first game

Notes:

inserting this very short chapter in here after writing like 3 other chapters because guess what!!! i forgot abt this scene entirely :)

The first game of the season had arrived, and Andrew was quickly running out of patience for his teammates. The constant in-fighting and personal squabbles had been increasing exponentially over the week leading up to the game, interrupting every practice or team meeting without fail.

Most of these incidents had been caused by the rift between the upperclassmen and the monsters, notably through Seth and Neil’s respective attitudes, and Kevin was a repeat offender as well through his one-track mindset.

Andrew also wasn’t oblivious – he knew his distanced attitude was making things worse, but he didn’t care enough to change. The upperclassmen (except Renee) thought Andrew was an arrogant psychopath and tended to ignore him outside of the court. The monsters were a whole other deal.

Aaron, thankfully, refused to talk to him, on and off the court. Nicky hadn’t managed to give up on trying to engage him in conversation, but Andrew had been getting better at dodging interactions with his cousin. Kevin’s insistence on Andrew’s ‘natural talent’ and lack of otherwise engaging conversation material had almost been the ignition of several violent encounters between them. Neil was just an annoying asshole, both to Andrew and everyone else.

Nevertheless, he was lined up with the rest of the Foxes just outside the inner court, stuffed into his goalie gear, his racquet held loosely in his gloved hands.

 Wymack had decided to place Andrew on court for the first half of his first game with the Foxes, a fact that was being announced by the commentators to the busy stadium.

The team had warmed up earlier, jogging laps around the court and taking practice shots against Andrew and Renee. They’d been ushered back off the court to allow the referees to take their places.

The court door is propped open again as the Foxes’ names are called out, allowing them to jog onto court to the jeers of their opposition’s fans – Palmetto State’s meagre number of supporters offering a muted retaliation of low cheers.

Renee offers him a smile and a thumbs up as he yanks his helmet’s straps tighter, and he cuts her an unimpressed glance before stepping onto court.

The sound of the crowd was muffled on court, the plexiglass walls offering a reprieve from the stadium noise.

Andrew places himself in the goal, turning to face down the court. He adjusts his grip on the racquet, spacing his hands the appropriate distance to hold his heavy racquet properly.

He glances over his teammates, standing at their starting positions on the court. Aaron, Matt and Dan have their backs to him, with Kevin and Neil standing on the half-court line. Neil was practically vibrating out of his gear, hopped up on a fresh dose.

Much to Kevin’s constant disappointment, Neil had to be kept medicated even while on the court. Neil was still an exy fanatic through and through even while high off his ass, but the excitement tended to make Neil’s erratic and argumentative attitude ten times worse, making him almost impossible to work with.

Apparently, Kevin had tried to get Wymack to agree to letting Neil miss a dose for the first half of their matches, but Wymack hadn’t thought it was a good idea, since it could get Neil off the team entirely and in a jail cell.

The Breckenbridge Jackals find their way into position, and the court doors locked shut behind them. The two captains shake hands on the half court line, and the referee flips a coin, catching it in his palm. He points his arm towards Andrew in goal, and acquiesces the ball to Dan, who jogs back over to the first court line.

The buzzer sounds, and Dan flings the ball to Kevin, who catches it in his racquet deftly. Kevin spins to toss it to Neil, who has already run halfway down the court, swiftly dodging his mark’s attempts to steal the ball away.

The Foxes score the first point, but nothing else works in their favour for the rest of the half. Kevin’s mark, apparently known as ‘Gorilla’ and Seth’s mortal enemy, attempts to crush Kevin’s hand with his racquet, which sparks Neil to take a swing at him. Gorilla is red carded and taken off the court, and Neil is served his first yellow card.

Matt and Aaron are both decent backliners, but Andrew still shoulders most of the defence, managing to almost completely block Breckenbridge out of the goal, save for two points.

Neil manages to get served a second yellow card and is removed from the court, where Wymacks yells at him until half time is called.

Seth swaps in for Neil, Nicky takes Aaron’s place, and Renee subs in for the goal after noticing that Andrew’s arms were sore from the constant barrage of attempted shots. Whilst Andrew had been training his arm strength and endurance ever since he’d arrived at Palmetto (thank you very much, Kevin), he still had a gap in real-game experience compared to the rest of the team.

As much as Andrew would like to claim he didn’t pay attention, juvie and high school Exy were noticeably different to collegiate level Exy, as evidenced by his aching shoulders.

The rest of the game goes downhill quickly, Seth and Kevin butting heads on the court and only managing to score one more point, and their defence quickly deteriorates under the Jackal’s rough playing style.

In the end they lose, but this is not surprising to anyone, least of all Andrew.

The Foxes trudge into the locker rooms and quickly shower and change out, no one wanting to dwell in the loss of their first game of the season. Wymack sends them off with a dismissive and almost disappointed wave of his hand, and the upperclassmen disappear to get outrageously drunk at an after party.

Andrew is, upsettingly, suddenly alone with Kevin as they ascend the lift to the dorms. Nicky and Aaron had joined the upperclassmen, and Neil’s whereabouts were a mystery to all, as they usually were.

“You need to get stronger,” Kevin says apropos of nothing. Andrew looks over to him wearily, willing the lift to rise faster. “You are one of the best goalkeepers in NCAA Exy, and you need the endurance to keep you on the court for the full game.”

Andrew levels him with a bored stare as the lift doors open.

“This whole team needs to get stronger,” Kevin says, trailing Andrew down the hallway. “They all need to work together to improve, to communicate better on the court.”

“What the team needs is for you to shut the fuck up,” Andrew grouses, stopping in the hallway, Kevin almost smacking into him. “Go talk about this with someone else. Where’s Josten? He’s your fellow Exy junkie, go whine about it to him.”

“He’s on a run,” Kevin says, the useless bastard, “The drugs are making him a liability to this team, too. He might have the talent and the passion while sober, but his high moods make him erratic. He can’t work with his teammates properly while on them. If only we could get him off them earlier…”

“They’re court mandated,” Andrew replies, his hand on the door handle of his dorm room. “If you get him off them, he goes to jail. Then he can’t play Exy at all.”

“The whole team would benefit from him being sober,” Kevin says. “If there was a way to just…”

“Kevin,” Andrew interrupts, unlocking his door and stepping inside, “I don’t care. Go bother someone else.”

He shuts the door in Kevin’s face.

Notes:

ive been neglecting kevin im so sorry he'll get more screentime soon i swear i fear andrew just doesnt care much about him yet

also writing exy games sucks BALLS let me tell you i did too much research for such a short scene..also lmk if theres errors its currently 3am i wrote this thing in an hour

BYE!!

Chapter 12

Summary:

kathy time

Notes:

hey guys.......

not sure if anyones still reading this cause its been literally 2 years (sorry!) but here's the new chapter! yet again ive failed at my mission to write longer chapters (my curse) so sorry for the long wait + terribly short update but oh well i tried my best ^_^

enjoy! :)

Andrew clambered out of the bus, eyes drooping in exhaustion. The other Foxes were all yawning and leaning on each other, sipping coffee out of flimsy paper cups and blinking bleary eyes.

Wymack had dragged them all out of the comfort of their dorm beds in the early hours before dawn. Andrew had spent the drive mostly sleeping, his back pressed against the bus window, the condensation of the early morning cooling his back through his shirt.

“Kevin!” a bright, all-too-cheery voice rang across the parking lot. “So glad you could make it.” The woman walked over to the group, the gravel popping underneath her tall, blood-red high heels. She looked more awake than what should be humanely possible at this time in the morning, already done up in a dark red power suit and a thick face of stage makeup. She pulled Kevin into a hug, her sharp manicured nails digging into the back of his jacket

“Nice to see you again, Kathy,” Kevin replied as he pulled away with an equally disgustingly bright grin, shaking off his fog of fatigue with practiced movement. How Kevin managed to summon this energy after Neil was kicking the back of his seat all bus ride to keep him awake, Andrew didn’t know.

“And you must be Andrew!” Kathy crooned, turning in his direction. She stuck out one hand for him to shake. “Lovely to meet you. Now, how does it feel to be in a team coached by Kevin Day?”

“Like torture,” Andrew deadpanned. Neil barked a laugh, and Kathy’s smile twitched slightly.

“Well, seems like we have a comedian here, don’t we?” She chirped, withdrawing her hand when Andrew ignored it, the corner of her mouth twitching with distaste. “Did you talk to him?” she asked Kevin, flat shark eyes darting between the two.

Andrew turned accusing eyes to Kevin’s traitorous face, which was quickly turning pale. “Talk to me about what, Kevin?” he says, voice carefully flat.

“About joining him on the show, of course!” Kathy chirps, clasping her hands together with the delight of a serial killer at a convenient body disposal site.

“No,” Andrew says without hesitation, eyebrows furrowing. Kevin’s face turns at least three shades paler.

“Andrew,” Coach says from behind him, and for a single, naïve second, Andrew is convinced of the blissful idea of Coach being on his side. “Your recruitment has been kept a secret from the public and the ERC for months – and Kevin is joining the team as well. It’s just one interview – you know we need some positive PR.” The traitor stares at him with his arms crossed, and Andrew vows to never have a moment of weakness like that again. “Just one. That’s all I’m asking you.”

“No,” Andrew says again through gritted teeth, “I’m not talking to the press.”

“Andrew, it’s in the contract you signed. The agreement you signed to play and go to college. One interview.”

He definitely should’ve read that paper before signing.

He sighs heavily through his nose, flicks a look at a ghostly-white Kevin, and agrees. “But only one,” he says, “Or something might happen to Kevin.”

Kathy waves the team inside with a wide grin, and Andrew feels his stomach sink as he trails behind the rest of the Foxes. Neil sidles up beside him, holding a half-eaten granola bar. “Better hurry,” he sings, “You’ve gotta go get all dolled up, pretty boy.” He takes a bite of his breakfast, smiling toothily, and jogs to catch up to Kevin’s retreating form.

 

Andrew doesn’t let the makeup crew or wardrobe near him, dressing himself in a stuffy shirt and pants, thinking longingly of his knives in Kevin’s ribs. Coach’s too.

They’re led onto the side of the stage, and watch Kathy address her audience and introduce the show. He can see the Foxes high up in the stands, hidden in shadow contrasting the bright stage lighting Andrew steps into when Kathy calls them on stage.

He sits on the far side of the couch, leaving a sizeable gap between him and Kevin.

“Now, Andrew,” Kathy purrs, folding her hands on her lap. “The newest Palmetto Foxes recruit! How exciting. Your recruitment was kept a secret from all of us eager fans – it’s been quite the suspense. And such an impressive debut you had! Tell me, what was your reaction when you were asked to join the team?”

Andrew looks at her, expression flat, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Kathy’s eyes flick from him to the audience, anger rising behind her sparkling appearance.

“Not very talkative, are you?” she says, voice laced with barbs. “Well, I can imagine you were eager to play with your brother – after all, you were estranged for several years, is that right?” She tilts her head to the side, her tone laden with false pity.

Andrew wants to slice her open just a little bit for mentioning Aaron, but he has long since learnt the art of holding back a reaction, and he simply lets his gaze wander to the side of her head, looking over to the side stage, where several crew members are in various states of panic.

Kathy's smile strains, bright lipsticked mouth tugging upwards to keep a snarl off her face.

 "Kevin!" She chirps, changing direction and trying to salvage her show. "How are you finding the Foxes? They are a very different team to the Ravens."

Very different, she phrases it. Andrew knows she means completely dysfunctional.

"Yes, they are, Kathy," Kevin dazzles. "But with time and effort, I think we might even have a chance at finals."

"A bold challenge!" Kathy grins. "Now, tell me Kevin - The Ravens announced that they're moving to the south-eastern district. You'll be playing against your old team. How do you feel about that?"

Kevin's smile slips by just the slightest fraction, but he keeps composure. "I feel that it'll be a great opportunity to really push the Foxes and see where they can go," he says.

Kathy's grin widens, stage makeup cracking at the edges of her lips. "I'm sure it will be! Riko and you were rather close, weren't you? Did you keep in touch after you changed teams?"

Andrew glanced over to Kevin, who swallowed thickly. "No, we didn't. It was all rather busy, you know? Moving across the country to a new team, and all. We didn’t have much time."

"That's just too bad. I guess it's a good thing I brought him onto the show, then!"

Kevin went white.

There was a clatter in the audience, and Andrew looked over to see Renee pinning a murderous Neil down in his seat.

"It's been a long time, Kevin. I'm glad to see you in one piece," Riko smiles as he makes his way onto the stage. He offers a hand to Kevin and pulls him into a hug.

The crowd screams, and Kevin's scarred knuckles are stark white across Riko's back.

They sit down next to each other, Kevin tracing over his scars obsessively. Riko leans around Kevin and offers his hand to Andrew.

"Andrew Minyard, is it?" he says charmingly. "It's nice to meet Kevin's newest teammate."

Andrew looks from Riko's hand to his eyes and says nothing. Riko’s eye twitches, but he withdraws his hand. “Shy, are you?” Riko quips, and Andrew ignores him, raising his eyes up into the rafters.

“What do you think about Kevin’s choice to leave the Ravens?” Kathy asks Riko, averting his attention.

Riko smiles genially. “Well, it was surprising, really. Considering how close we are, I never expected him to leave.”

“So this wasn’t something you discussed before he left?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Riko sighs, “I assumed he just needed a change. You know, ever since the skiing accident.”

“Oh yes,” Kathy latches on to this like a shark to bait, “That must have been a very trying time for the both of you, wasn’t it? It must be a relief to see Kevin able to play again, even if it is with another team.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Riko says, leaning back in his seat, his knee knocking against Kevin’s. “But now that he is ready to play, I would’ve expected to have him back with the Ravens, and not with a team like the Foxes.”

Kevin sits up, his vacant, terrified expression sharpening as he looks over to Riko. “The Foxes have a lot of potential. I’m excited to play with them this year.”

Riko’s gaze slides over to Andrew, disgust evident in the curl of his lip. “Potential? With the track record of the Foxes? Kevin, you and I both know you’re wasting your time.”

Kevin shrinks back slightly, shoulders curling in. “Well, I-” he starts, but his voice fades and he wrings his hands together, fingers running over his scars.

Riko zeroes in on Andrew, who has been steadfastly staring at a wall for the entirety of Riko’s little cat fight. “Well, how about we ask your shy new recruit? Say, Minyard, how well do you think your Foxes could perform against the Ravens? I mean, you must have thought highly of this team to sign on for them, right? Unless - well, unless you had another reason to join other than their ability to play.”

Andrew drags his gaze over to Riko in the corner of his eye without turning his head and raises his eyebrows slightly. Clearly the self-inflated show pony wants to bring up his brother, but at this point it’s getting a little old. Talk about running out of new material.

Riko’s grin withers at the edges, and his perfectly constructed media persona begins to flake away. “You know, it’s rude to ignore someone,” Riko drawls, tone darkening. “Kevin, is this really the kind of teammate you want to play with?”

“Yes,” Kevin says, the beginning of a backbone starting to show. “Andrew is one of the best goalies I’ve ever seen. He’s extremely talented, and I’m excited to play with him on the Foxes lineup when the season starts.” Kevin holds Riko’s venomous gaze for a beat before dropping his eyes again.

Kathy clears her throat, clearly cautious at the tense atmosphere she has created but also delighted - and claps her hands together, smiling from ear to ear. “Well, that’s all we have time for today, everyone!”

As soon as Kathy finishes spieling off her outro to the show and the lights go dark, Kevin jumps up and half-runs off stage, disappearing into the darkness of backstage. Andrew follows close behind, dodging past Riko as he tries to grab his elbow.

He finds Kevin with his head between his knees in the dressing room, hands gripping at his dark hair.

“Brotherly spat?” Andrew asks, breaking the suffocating sound of Kevin’s hyperventilating. Kevin’s head shoots up so abruptly he hears a crack, and his eyes are wide and frantic.

“I need a drink,” Kevin mutters, pushing himself up and starts to stagger past Andrew. Andrew watches as Kevin rummages around the discarded refreshments cart, bottles clattering together as he pulls one out. Why there’s a cart full of alcohol in the room before midday, Andrew doesn’t know, but maybe that’s just the reality of show business. Either way, Kevin finds what he’s looking for and starts unscrewing the cap.

“You’ve lost your manners, Kevin,” a voice says. “You need to keep your dogs in check.”  Andrew and Kevin turn around to see Riko leaning against the door frame, tie loosened from around his neck. He rushes towards Andrew and slams him against the wall with a hand around his neck. Kevin drops his bottle and it shatters against the floor, clear liquid pooling around his feet. Andrew lashes out violently, nailing Riko in the throat with his elbow, making Riko drop him as he wheezes for breath. Andrew springs up, fingers slipping beneath his armbands when someone interrupts.

“Dogs?” A second, infinitely worse voice to hear comes from the doorway. Neil Josten, drugged-up grin reaching the corners of his face. “Kevin has dogs? What breed are they, Kevin? Are they chihuahuas to remind you of your yappy little friend here?”

Andrew holds a knife out, sharp blade pointed towards the side of Riko’s neck. Riko snarls and backs off, instead wheeling on the interrupting maniac who just joined the group. “The attack dog. Quite an annoying one you are. Violent, too, right Josten? Had to get all drugged up after almost killing someone. Kevin really needs to put a collar on you. A muzzle, too, for all those relentlessly irritating quips you come up with. Maybe the Ravens would even sort you out better. Put that speed to use instead of wasting it on a team like the Foxes.”

“Aw, do you really like me that much, Riko?” Neil says, smiling easily. “I’m flattered, really, but I must turn you down. We have a bus to catch.” He snaps his fingers at Andrew and a shivering Kevin. “Hop to it, superstars,” he chirps in a nauseatingly false cheer. “Your team awaits.”

“Your insubordination is unflattering, Kevin,” Riko calls. “It won’t go unnoticed. It won’t go unpunished.”

Neil pushes Kevin towards the exit before he can have a second breakdown, escorting them down the hallway and to the safety of the team bus.

Andrew’s never been so glad to see his teammates.

“Man,” Neil says, wriggling his eyebrows at Andrew. “What a weirdo, right? I bet his mummy didn’t love him enough.”

Kevin whimpers, and Neil laughs, herding them onto the bus.

Notes:

kudos + comments are appreciated!!

not entirely sure when the next chapter will come out (definitely not gonna be 2 more years though i pinky promise) as i might be editing/rewriting the early chapters bc i think i can make them better..

(EDIT: yeah its gonna take me a bit to get to chapter 12, im currently redoing all chapters bc i reread them and personally they were ASS. ill return soon though dw!)

seeya later!

(if u wanna talk 2 me about aftg/this fic u can find me on tumblr at fishy-fishyy)

Chapter 13

Summary:

consequences

Notes:

whats this?? fish managing to get a chapter out within six months of the last one??? thats crazy...

this chapter is dedicated to my friend milo everyone say thank you milo for peer pressuring me into finishing this chapter

yayyy enjoy!!!

The words on the textbook page began to blur, words and lines becoming dark smears across the page. Andrew rubs a hand over his eyes and snaps his book shut, placing his pen alongside.

The dorm room was quiet, Fox Tower essentially abandoned for the weekend, the low thrum of the building’s AC unit filling the room. Nicky had half-heartedly tried to invite Andrew back to Eden’s again for the evening, insistently positive as he was, but Andrew knew it would end just as badly as last time.

The rest of the team had been desperate to escape the dorms, Kevin especially eager to soothe his frayed nerves with more than a few shots. Matt, Seth and the other upperclassmen had also gone their separate ways, leaving Andrew alone with his research essay – classes had started less than a week ago and he was already swamped with criminology papers and articles to read.

Andrew pushes away from the desk in his roller chair, stretching slowly as he walks into the dorm’s small kitchenette. He’s just reached for the fridge door when his phone begins to ring, buzzing against his thigh.

He reaches into his pocket and fishes his phone out, flicking it open and holding it to his ear. “Yes?” he says, pulling a mug off the shelf.

“Are you with Kevin and Neil?” Wymack asks, something akin to worry in his voice.

“No,” Andrew replies, switching on the coffee machine. “I’m at the dorms.”

“You’re not in Columbia?” Wymacks says this as more of a surprised statement than a question, so Andrew doesn’t answer, instead opening the fridge and rummaging through old takeout boxes to find the creamer.

“What’s this about?” Andrew asks instead, shutting the fridge door with his elbow.

“Your brother’s in the hospital.”

The familiar cold fear grips him, its chilled fingers trailing down his back, phantom touches freezing him in place.

“Andrew?” Wymack’s voice breaks through the din, and Andrew’s mind jolts back into motion.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice flat and emotionless.

“I don’t know all the details yet, but he was attacked outside a club – they had him checked into the hospital in Columbia about an hour ago.”

“Is it serious?” Andrew says, fingertips growing cold against the plastic creamer bottle.

“He’s stable. Nicky says it’ll be nothing life-altering. If you call him-” Wymack’s voice cuts off as Andrew snaps his phone shut, stuffing it into his back pocket and unscrewing the cap off the creamer.

The timing of the entire situation felt off. It had only been a day since the interview at Kathy’s, and his identical twin had been attacked in a place he had been seen frequenting. It won’t go unpunished, Riko had threatened. Maybe Kevin’s paranoia wasn’t unfounded.

Had the attack been intended for Andrew? Or was Aaron just an easy target? Andrew carried his coffee over to his desk, placing the steaming mug next to his discarded textbook.

The rattling of keys in the door gives Andrew about half a second of warning before the upperclassmen burst into the dorm, a flurry of sounds and movement. Dan spots Andrew sitting at his desk and blinks at him in confusion. “Andrew. You’re not in Columbia,” she says, stating the obvious.

Andrew raises his eyebrows at her, picking up his mug to take a sip.

“Did you hear about Aaron?” Matt asks from behind her; car keys still clutched in his hand.

“Wymack called,” Andrew replies shortly, pulling his chair out so he can sit down. He makes glancing eye contact with Renee, who stands in the doorway, worry evident on her face. Seth and Allison were notably absent from the group, likely still out at the club.

“Do you need a ride?” Renee asks, gentle and direct, which is why Andrew tolerates her more than the others. Still, it doesn’t mean she’s immune to asking stupid questions. Matt seems to take this as an opportunity to dart over to his bed, searching for something in his drawers.

“Why would I need one?” Andrew says, picking up his pen and turning his attention to the page before him.

“Because he’s your-” Dan starts, furious, her voice rising. Renee places a hand on her arm and cuts her off, giving her a significant look.

 “Aaron’s not in a serious condition,” Renee says placatingly at Dan’s incredulous stare. “I’m sure Andrew is worried, but Nicky is staying at the hospital so Aaron’s not alone. We should get going, Dan. Did you get what you need, Matt?”

Matt holds up a small bag in acknowledgement, and the three slip out the door without another word.

Why should he visit Aaron? It was becoming increasingly clear to Andrew that the Foxes seemed to think they should share a special bond because of their blood relation. Of all people to think that, the outcast and dysfunctional Foxes were the ones Andrew expected the least. No, never mind that. Andrew shouldn’t expect anything from anyone, not anymore. Everyone always had an opinion, an expectation for his priorities and behaviour.

Aaron wanted nothing to do with Andrew, and it was a shared feeling.

 

Neil, Nicky and Kevin arrive back at campus the next day, Nicky only stopping by briefly to pick up essentials for Aaron that they hadn’t had in the house in Columbia and offering words of appeasement about Aaron’s condition. All Kevin seems to care about is that the injuries won’t affect his ability to play, but that isn’t anything new.

As Andrew gathers, Aaron had been jumped by two men inside Eden’s, and had received a few scrapes, two broken fingers and a moderate concussion. Security guards had managed to break up the fight, and Kevin and Nicky had had to bodily haul Neil away from the other men. Apparently, Neil getting arrested for assault would be bad for his already tentative court sentencing.

The Foxes barring Aaron and Nicky were gathered in the lounge, Wymack having called a meeting before afternoon practice. The upperclassmen including Seth and Allison this time, all sit on one side of the room. Kevin and Neil sit across from them, Kevin noticeably twitchy and Neil as cheerful as ever. Andrew sits somewhere between the two groups, steadfastly ignoring the glances he kept getting from the upperclassmen.

“You are all aware about what happened last night,” Wymack starts gruffly, arms folded across his chest. “Aaron is physically fine and will return to practice in a week after Abby clears him.” He holds up a finger at Kevin, who has leaned forward with the intent to interrupt. “As you also know we have a game on Friday before he comes back, which will mean we will be playing one player short.”

“Matt,” Wymack turns towards the backliner to address him, and Matt sits up a little straighter. “You and Nicky will both have to play the full game. A clean one, too. Neil’s offered to sub in if anything happens, but I’d rather not rely on a striker. Got it?”

“Ouch, Coach,” Neil pipes up, turning his palms upwards. “No confidence in me at all, huh?”

“Backliner?” Seth scoffs from the opposite couch. “Just because you’re a nut case doesn’t mean you have to submit the rest of us to your delusions of grandeur, Josten.”

“Wow, big words, Seth. How bad did it hurt for you to use your brain for something other than-”

“Both of you morons shut the hell up,” Wymack snaps. “I’m still talking.”

Seth closes his mouth, glaring daggers as Neil makes silent jerk-off motions in his direction.

“As I was saying,” Wymack continues, picking up a sheaf of papers from the table before him. “We’ve got basically no subs except for the goalies and Neil, so you’d all be on your best fucking behaviour – if I see so much as a glimpse of a red card, I’m signing you all up for a double marathon.”

He passes out the papers, which contain printouts of formations and strategic information about their opposition that Andrew immediately chooses to forget, folding the paper up and tucking it in his pocket to be thrown in the wastepaper basket on his way out.

 

Neil manages to corner him in the corridor outside of the locker rooms, and Andrew glances up at him in annoyance. “He was targeting you,” he says abruptly, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t know yet if he intentionally went for Aaron or if he mistook him for you, but either way, it was because of you.”

Andrew meets Neil’s drugged gaze steadily. “Riko.” he summarises shortly.

“There we go,” Neil smiles, “I knew you were smart enough to figure it out. Kevin wanted me to warn you against doing anything else. He’s scared Riko might do something worse.”

“You said more to Riko than I did,” Andrew points out. “Maybe Kevin should be warning you instead.”

Neil shrugs, unbothered. “He’s tried, but I think he’s accepted that my attitude problem will get the better of me soon enough.” Andrew raises a brow at that, but Neil doesn’t elaborate, merely grins wider. “They came at him without being provoked. They looked out of place for Eden’s. Moriyama-hired, for sure.”

“Why should I care?”

“Not asking you to care, just letting you know,” Neil says in a teasing voice, flicking a finger at Andrew. “You don’t seem very broken up about your brother being attacked. Maybe Seth will think of us as a matching set! A pair of emotionless psychopaths on the team, huh?” he wriggles his eyebrows at Andrew’s unimpressed face.

You seemed to care, Andrew almost replies, thinking back to Nicky’s recount of the night, of Neil’s sudden jump to defend Aaron, even if he was held back. Neil had no reason to protect Aaron at all. Andrew knew he had some kind of deal with Kevin, but there was no reason for that protection to extend to his brother.

Neil didn’t even seem to like Aaron, either, the two of them barely spoke, and when they did it was usually a quick and vicious exchange of insults. Neil was made up of contradictions, his half-truths and lies forming a shoddy patchwork of a person. Andrew is tempted to ask, to probe into Neil’s strange motivations, but he quickly discards that train of thought.

“Why’d you volunteer to be backliner?” Andrew asks instead, sidestepping Neil’s conversation topic.

“I thought you didn’t care about exy,” Neil remarks in surprise, his grin widening and eyebrows rising.

Andrew stares at him silently before Neil relents his mocking tone and shrugs. “I played backliner in the little leagues.”

“You started playing exy in high school,” Andrew rebuts, summoning the dregs of knowledge he’d reluctantly gathered about Neil’s past. “No prior experience, and you only played striker.”

“Aw, Andrew, I didn’t know you cared,” Neil mocks, clasping his hands to his chest. “But I think you’ll find that I’ve rarely been truthful about anything before. Especially not my past, and definitely not to the press.”

“What else have you lied about?” Andrew presses.

“Uh-uh,” Neil says, wagging a finger. “No more from me. Truth for a truth, remember?”

Andrew restrains himself from rolling his eyes, his reply interrupted by Neil’s cellphone beginning to ring, the default ringtone echoing through the hallway. Neil snaps open his phone and glances at the contact name. His smile drops.

“You two!” Wymack calls suddenly, catching Andrew’s attention from the end of the hall. “Practice starts in five, and I don’t see you anywhere near your gear. Get the hell out of here.”

Andrew doesn’t move, instead watching as Neil ignores Wymack, putting the phone to his ear and walking in the opposite direction from the locker rooms. “Neil!” Wymack yells, but Neil just looks over his shoulder and shakes his head, his drugged grin reappearing shakily.

“Duty calls, Coach!” He replies in a sing-song tone and disappears around the bend in the corridor.

Wymack turns his attention to Andrew, who turns for the locker rooms before he can be called out as well. Wymack almost looks curious, his eyes flickering between Andrew and where Neil disappeared, but he shakes his head in a subtle dismissal, muttering, “Above my paygrade.”

Notes:

omg whos neil getting a call from???

poor aaron but im finally getting into the parts where i stray from canon a bit more omg im EXCITED!!

i was very tempted to kill seth off anyway but i will extend mercy on him....for now..

also also if you see a typo/mistake let me know pls i wrote this at 2am in a frenzy i didnt edit it whoops

anyway yipppeeee leave kudos and comments love u guys ty for reading ill be back soon (i hope)

Chapter 14

Summary:

stuff! phone calls! andrew having a bad time!

Notes:

hey guys! ive got some things to say before you enjoy my awesome update:

you will notice ive added 2 more chapters so now we are at 14 chapters and not 13- the first chapter ive added is the new chapter 11 !! i did this because

1. my brain is the size of a peanut
2. because my brain is the size of a peanut, i forgot exy existed and didnt write their first game, which happens before kathy's interview

so now theres a chapter about their first game - its very short and just sums up some of the team's dynamics/attitudes surrounding exy/andrew and also a brief discussion about neils meds and how they affect the team.

in summary i added a chapter within my earlier chapters because of a missing scene, so go read that if you wish

ANYWAY, moving on: here is chapter 14, which was originally chapter 13! yay!

trigger warnings:
thoughts of suicide, graphic description of gore/suicide attempt, mention of sh scars, and some mentions towards drake (andrew had very brief audio flashbacks, nothing major)

Neil never returned to practice, much to the chagrin of both Wymack and Kevin. He didn’t reappear until the next day’s meet, his mood as chipper as ever as he strapped his helmet on, wide grin visible through the metal grating.

That afternoon’s practice carried on without any other anomalies – if you could consider anything the Foxes did as ‘normal’.  

Aaron and Nicky would be arriving back at Palmetto in a few hours as he’d been so helpfully informed by Wymack when he’d first arrived at the stadium. Andrew wasn’t sure why Wymack would think he’d care – something the upperclassmen liked to discuss at not-so-subtle volumes.

He brushes past his teammates’ stares, his bag slung over one shoulder as he leaves the stadium. His eyes were starting to feel heavy, the fog of weeks of fitful sleep making him sluggish.

Andrew’s average amount of sleep was bearable at the beginning of the school semester, but for the past week Seth had taken to staying out until the early hours of the morning, and his drunken stumbling around the dorm helped Andrew none when he woke up paralysed from nightmares.

He was reaching the end of a quickly fraying tether, and he wasn’t sure if his knives would be enough to pull him back from the edge.

He reaches the dorms before the other Foxes, the sky now ink-black as opposed to the dim blue when he’d left for practice – and takes the opportunity to lock the door and collapse into bed.

 

Be quiet, AJ.

 

Andrew jolts violently awake, his hands going to his forearms, the familiar warm weight pressing against his skin.

His eyes search the dark before finding a tall looming shape standing across the room, the door cracked open and letting a spill of light inside.

“Sorry,” Matt’s voice says hoarsely.

Andrew rolls out of bed instead of responding, glancing at the alarm clock on Matt’s bedside table, which reads 2:05 AM. Matt stumbles to the bathroom as Andrew watches, perching tensely on the edge of his bed.

Seth wasn’t in the room, the only sound being the running of tap water behind the closed bathroom door. Andrew crosses the room quickly, pulling on a sweatshirt and tucking a pack of cigarettes and his dorm keys in his pocket. He stuffs his feet into his unlaced boots by the door and steps out into the dark corridor.

He walks, driven by an itching under his skin, until he reaches the stairwell. He glances down the circular staircase and sees two people staggering up the stairs with the careless noise only drunk people can make, giggling and whispering to each other.

Without much thought, he finds himself walking higher, mindlessly passing the levels until he reaches the top. A bolted door meets him at the last step. He tries the handle anyway and is met with the expected resistance.

Andrew glances up, looking for a security camera and finds none. He slips a skin-warmed blade out of his armband and sets to work jimmying the door open.

Eventually, the door clicks open with a little force, and Andrew steps out into the cold night. The rooftop is bare and unassuming, grey concrete bordered by a low parapet.

When he stands at the edge, sharp wind whipping his hair in all directions, his stomach bottoms out. The dorm building was no skyscraper, but he knew the distance to the ground was far enough to be fatal.

The flare of fear, the terror rising in his throat cut through the monotonous buzzing in his head, the itch he felt under the skin of his forearms. He sucks in a breath, looking down at the path below, and imagines the crack of bone against the sidewalk, the pink spillage of brain matter and the thick pooling of crimson blood seeping into cracked stone.

It's the most he’s felt in months.

He steps back, putting a safe distance between himself and the rise of the parapet. The fear was still there, but it was lessened – more manageable, able to be compartmentalised.

Andrew sinks to the ground, back against the parapet, the cold of the concrete rooftop able to be felt even through the fabric of his dark sweatpants. He digs his crumpled cigarette carton out of his pocket and shakes out a stick, holding it between his lips as he lights the end of it.

He smokes three cigarettes to the filter before his eyelids start to droop again, sleep settling heavily over his limbs. He stands up, ass frozen to numbness, and settles his back against the metal door, his weight holding it shut. It’s no locked room, but it’s the most secure he can get.

He falls asleep like that, chin nodding to his chest, hood pulled over his eyes.

 

When he wakes again, the sun has risen to a mid-morning position, and the campus has sparked back to life, students already awake and on their way to class.

Andrew stands and groans as his back aches nastily, his whole body sore and cold – but no longer slow and fatigued.

He makes his way down the stairs, quickly avoiding the awakening athletes and ducks back into his dorm room. Matt is deeply asleep in his own bed, and Seth’s is uninhabited, as it usually is. He rifles through his drawers and pulls out a set of fresh clothes and locks himself in the bathroom.

He showers quickly and efficiently, leaving his armbands on the sink and scrubbing his forearms until they are pink and raw, his fingers rubbing over the raised lines. He changes and pulls his knives back on just as quickly, rubbing a towel over his damp hair, and steps back out into the dorm.

As much as he had despised it, one of his beginner law classes was scheduled for the morning. Whilst he was never one for turning up on time - or at all - in high school, this class was interesting to catch his short attention span.

He collected his bag and books, and exits the dorm as quietly as he had come in. Once in the hallway, he comes across the unpleasant sight of Aaron walking down the corridor towards him. Andrew’s strangely calm mood vanishes as soon as Aaron spots him, his brother’s face twisting in anger.

Aaron has a square piece of gauze taped to his forehead, and two fingers on his right hand are wrapped tightly in white. Besides his obvious injuries, he looks tired, heavy eyebags mirroring Andrew’s own. A girl walks alongside Aaron, their fingers intertwined.

She freezes when she sees Andrew, her face opening in surprise, but not outright hostility like Aaron’s had. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but Andrew pivots abruptly without a word and walks away from the pair, towards the lifts.

Behind him, he hears Aaron mutter, “Don’t bother, Kate.”

The lift doors close softly, and Andrew leaves his brother in the hallway, comforted by the girl on his arm.

 

It is later in the afternoon when Andrew sees his brother again, when Aaron turns up at afternoon practice. The team swarms him as he walks into the lounge, the upperclassmen expressing sympathy as if they had cared about Aaron’s wellbeing before the incident.

“I thought you were benched?” Matt asks, worry laced into his tone.

“I still am,” Aaron says, tucking his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable at the attention. “Coach wants me to watch old games while the rest of you train.”

Kevin nods in reluctant appreciation, but still says, “We need you back on the court soon. You will fall behind and you are already not anywhere near adequate.”

Neil laughs at that, the sound crackling through the air as Dan angrily tells Kevin to get his head out of his ass.

Wymack interrupts the brewing fight by entering the room, yelling at them to settle down. “All right, numbnuts,” he declares in his usual charming manner, “We’ve got drills to run. Now, today I want you all to -”

He’s cut off at the sudden ringing of his cellphone, muffled through the fabric of his jeans. He frowns, holds a hand up to signal for silence and holds it to his ear.

“Hello?” he says with a politeness he’s never used on the Foxes, “Yes, that’s me, how can I help you?” He goes silent for a long second, listening to the phone. The Foxes begin to side-eye another, Allison elbowing Dan to whisper something in her ear.

“Andrew,” Wymack says, catching the attention of the team. Several eyes swivel towards him. “Why are the cops calling me asking for you?”

The room is silent, questioning gazes settling heavily on Andrew. Neil smiles at him and tilts his head as if he’s put something together, and Andrew wants to throttle the insufferable jackass then and there.

“I don’t know,” Andrew says.

“You sure?” Wymack asks, raising a brow. “He seems to know you. Officer Higgins? Does that ring a bell?”

Andrew’s entire body freezes, his stomach sinking as if he were at the edge of the roof again. He can feel Aaron’s knowing eyes on him, and he can taste bile in his mouth.

You like that, AJ?

“Give the phone to me,” Andrew says, shooting to his feet.

“Andrew.”

“Give it to me,” he repeats, putting a hand out. He ignores the murmurs around him, ignores Aaron’s burning gaze.

Wymack drops the phone into Andrew’s hand, and Andrew brings it up to his ear, the slightest shake to his fingers.

“Piggins,” he says, almost conversationally. “I thought I said not to call me.”

“Andrew,” the familiar voice says through the phone, and for a split second Andrew’s memories overlap, younger eyes looking up at the older man’s bearded face, his blue uniform burned into Andrew’s brain. “Andrew,” he says again. “I’m sorry, but I need to know-”

Andrew hangs up abruptly, suddenly very aware of the people in the room around him. Aaron is looking at him, and Aaron knows who Higgins is, even if he doesn’t know why the pig would call. The phone rings again, and this time he starts for the door.

“Minyard!” Wymack calls, but the door clicks shut behind him, separating Andrew from his brother’s obvious presence.

“What?” he says as he answers the third ring.

“Child Protective Services is building a case on the Spears,” Higgins starts, and Andrew already regrets answering a second time. “And they need you to testify.”

“No.”

“Andrew, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but the other kids weren’t going to-”

Anger sparks, hot in his chest, boiling up against the cold tide of fear.

“Other kids?” he snarls, spitting flame and ice. “There weren’t supposed to be other kids in that house, Piggins. Are you as useless as you are dim-witted? How many more did she have in that house?”

“Six,” Higgins admits, voice laced with something like shame or guilt, and Andrew hates him for it. “Andrew,” Higgins says, yet again, “I just need to know a name. Just give me a name.”

“You already have one, don’t you?” Andrew answers instead. “Who are they building the case against?”

Higgins pauses, and then says, “Richard Spear.”

Andrew hangs up, the fuzzed silence of the cellphone still pressed against his ear.

He brings his hand down and looks at the phone in his palm. Higgins doesn’t call again, and he flicks it shut.

Andrew pushes the lounge door open to see the Foxes staring expectantly at him. He drops the phone into Wymack’s waiting hand, and turns to leave, not dissimilar to Neil’s reaction to his mysterious call the other day (as much as he loathes to compare himself to the other).

Like Neil’s call as well, no one calls after him to bring him back to practice. Renee, does however, follow him out into the carpark. She turns to him as he pulls his cigarette carton from his pocket. “Did you want to spar?” she asks, simple and direct, and Andrew tucks the box away again to nod, cigarette dangling between two fingers as he follows her away from the stadium.

Notes:

yay!! thanks for reading :) please comment and leave kudos!!

barely any neil this chapter...sad...i miss him already

in some good news: im trying to start a more frequent update schedule, so im hoping to update twice a month. its already taken me like 2 years to write this far which is a little pathetic but what can you do... anyway! aiming for bimonthly updates (maybe weekly but that might be TOO optimistic)

also many thanks to my friend who helped me plan out the thanksgiving + christmas part of this fic!! she listened to many a long rambling voice messages so ty very much for ur patience elaria. to my lovely readers..... you guys are in for a RIDE. hope ur excited!

Chapter 15

Summary:

second game of the season

Notes:

i dont even have a good excuse as to why this is a month late i just got obsessed with superbat and forgot this existed...sorry

The next two days on campus were a special kind of hell. The Foxes’ first game for the season had only further cemented the rest of the student body’s abysmal opinion of the team and their new recruit and the Foxes themselves kept giving Andrew complex looks that seemed to mostly be borne of suspicion and an irritating curiosity.

Combined with the upcoming second game of the season and everyone’s sudden attention towards him, Andrew was not enjoying his life decisions up until this moment.

The smack of a rebounding ball against plexiglass brought his attention back to the court in front of him, the rest of the team doing shooting drills before the start of the game against the Belmonte Terrapins.

Andrew stands in the goal square, eyes tracking lazily across the court. Seth steps forward on one foot, raising his racquet up to shoot. As the ball leaves the striker’s net, Andrew hefts his own racquet up, spinning the heavy metal shaft slightly in his hands and swatting the ball back at Seth, who has to jump backwards to catch the ball Andrew aimed at his stomach. Neil laughs.

Dan calls out from middle court for a team huddle before the game, and Andrew reluctantly makes his way over.

It’s the usual be-all end-all, hopes-and-dreams drivel as it always is, so Andrew zones out again, noticing the way Neil was getting increasingly fidgety, a wide grin visible under the mesh covering of his helmet as he spun his racquet in his hands.

Kevin had made another attempt to talk Wymack into allowing Neil to skip a dose for the game, but he’d been dismissed as quickly as the last time. Andrew had been watching Neil during the interaction in the lounge only a few hours before, and something dark had passed over the striker’s face at Wymack’s vehement disagreement.

The blow of a whistle sends the team back into their starting positions, the substitute players jogging quickly off the court. The buzzer blares overhead, and the opposing dealer sends the ball easily into a striker’s net and towards Andrew in goal.

Everything quickly falls apart from there.

Andrew’s weightlifting regimen (implemented by Kevin) has improved his arm and shoulder strength, but he hasn’t been at it long enough to make any significant difference. Given that and the way Matt and Nicky were seemingly letting every ball pass through their defences straight at him, the Terrapin’s score rose quickly.

Seth and Neil were scoring, but their inability to work together was limiting them greatly, both ignoring the other’s presence on court much to Wymack’s displeasure, as made clear by how loud he was yelling from the other side of the plexiglass wall.

About thirty minutes into the first half, Neil is deliberately tripped by his opponent and loses the ball. The backliner is given a penalty but not taken off the court, which proves to be in bad judgement when Neil swings a fist into the man’s gut, folding him in half.

Yelling breaks out across the court, Dan pushing forward through the spontaneous brawl in the far court, lunging to snag Neil’s uniform and pull him back. Neil manages to wriggle free, slipping away from her with a lizard-like ease and headbutts the backliner, sending the man sprawling onto his back, his plastic visor splitting from the impact.

The referees rush onto court as Neil spits a bloody glob onto the floor, reaching under the metal grating to pull his mouthguard out. They brandish a red card to his bloody grin and he jogs off the court, suddenly uninterested in the fight around him.

Andrew fiddles with his own helmet straps as he watches the referees split the teams up, the Terrapin players hauling their backliner off to see the team medic. Neil disappears into the locker room, followed quickly by Wymack and Abby.

Kevin runs onto the court to replace Neil and play resumes. The game spirals even faster, both teams volatile and toeing the line, and no matter how good Kevin’s exy skills are, his personality doesn’t help their teamwork.

 

They lose again, and badly.

 

The men’s locker room is sweaty and cramped but silent, all of them showering and changing as quickly as they can, the heavy weight of defeat settling over the room. They file out equally silent, meeting the girls in the hall and heading into the lounge.

Neil had been benched for the rest of the game, and the word was still up on whether he could play in the next one. He’d already showered and changed and was waiting with Wymack and Abby in the Foxes lounge, smiling carelessly in the face of Kevin’s glowering.

Andrew sits in the lone armchair, folding his arms close to his chest, the impression of his knives pressing into his stomach. Wymack waits for the Foxes to be settled before starting.

“That was a shitty game,” he starts, going right for the throat, holding a hand out for silence as Dan opens her mouth in protest. “None of you worked together like you should have, and it cost us the game. It cost us the last game, too, and if you fuckers can’t get your act together it’s going to cost us the entire season.”

“Coach, that isn’t fair-” Nicky says, and Wymack shakes his head, cutting him off.

“I don’t care if it’s fair, you’re all adults. I know you all want more for this team, but you all need to get over yourselves. If not outside the court, then on it. I’m not going to interfere with your personal lives, but for the sake of my patience you’re all going to need to work out whatever shit you’ve got going on.”

Andrew leans his head back, the back of his head hitting soft cushion. Wymack’s speech was practically preaching to the choir, Dan and Kevin’s identical sentiments ringing through every practice they had. The reality of the situation was that they would never work together – every one of them was too much of an asshole to even try being friendly, except maybe Renee.

“But I also know that there are other… circumstances that are making this more difficult than it could be,” Wymack continues, his face turning sour. “So I’m allowing Neil to start delaying his dosage on game days. He’s assured me that he’ll be able to handle it, so I just need you all to keep this under wraps, alright?”

Kevin’s head snaps up in shock, the announcement clearly ringing surprise throughout the whole team as well, shouts of surprise and protest echoing through the small room.

Andrew looks to Neil, who meets his gaze with a flat smile, shrugging his shoulders in an innocent gesture.

“But Coach, why?” Dan asks, leaning forward in her seat. “Isn’t it court-ordered? I thought that’s why you said no to Kevin before.”

“Yes, well, after today’s performance, I think it’s been proven that the meds aren’t as calming as they’re meant to be,” Wymack says, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb.

Neil waggles his eyebrows at Dan. “You’re not a narc, are you?” he asks in a playful tone, his smile cutting and his eyes blank.

Dan grimaces at him but settles back into her seat, looking away.

The rest of the meeting goes by quickly, Wymack brandishing practice schedules and threats for cooperation and teamwork before dismissing them, vanishing into his office.

The Foxes quickly split into their two groups as soon as his door closes, making their way out through the winding corridors of the Foxhole Court. Aaron and the girl he’d been with a few days before meets the monsters at the exit. Nicky greets the girl enthusiastically, before spinning around and finding Andrew in the leaving group.

“Andrew!” he calls, waving him over. Andrew slows a little in his way out but doesn’t stop or get closer, lifting an eyebrow in return. “This is Katelyn,” Nicky says excitedly as Aaron tries to frantically shut him up, “She’s Aaron’s girlfriend! You guys haven’t met yet, right?”

Katelyn’s eyes are wide as she flicks a look between Aaron and Andrew, but she smiles and waves a little anyway, one hand still tangled with Aaron’s. Andrew’s gaze slides over her to his brother, who looks back at him in anger, a venomous twist to his mouth.

Andrew turns away and keeps walking.

Andrew finds himself cornered by Neil as he tries to enter his dorm, one hand on the doorhandle and the other twitching towards his knives. Neil leans a shoulder against the wall next to his door, a vague smile hanging onto his lips.

“Heard you cold-shouldered your brother’s girlfriend.” he says gleefully, as if this is the funniest thing he’s heard in weeks.

“And this is important how?” Andrew says, unimpressed, as he pushes open the door. Neil follows him inside despite a warning glare and doesn’t close the door behind himself. He hops to sit on the kitchen counter as Andrew ransacks the fridge for his leftover pizza.

“She hasn’t been around much since you got here,” Neil continues unconcernedly, picking up the container of sugar on the counter Matt keeps for his coffee. “I think Aaron didn’t want you to meet her at all, but since she’s his date for the banquet coming up maybe he’s making you go through exposure therapy. Nicky probably suggested it.” He lifts a clump of sugar out of the container and drops it into his mouth. He immediately makes a face, like he’s bitten into a lemon. He puts the container aside.

Andrew looks over at him over the top of his pizza box and considers homicide. “Why are you wasting my time? Get out,” he says.

Neil laughs and hops down from the kitchen counter. From this distance, Andrew can notice the small clear ring around his iris, showing his coloured contacts. “Hey,” he says, quieter than before, “Why were the cops calling you?” his wide smile is a challenge, crooked canines revealed as his lip curls upwards. At Andrew’s flat stare, he says, “Truth.”

“He wanted information from me,” Andrew says simply, something cold curling up in his gut, placing the pizza box down on the counter. “An old case.”

“One of your foster homes.” Neil says, and it’s not a question. He hums, nodding his head slightly, and doesn’t push further. “I stepped out of line,” he whispers, mockingly conspiratorially. “That’s why they called me.”

Andrew has to look away from Neil’s bright grin to put it together. “The call you got this week. At the court.”

“Yes.” Neil answers, tilting his head to the side. He doesn’t continue, watching Andrew’s hands as he transfers pizza slices to a plate.

“You did it on purpose.” Andrew says, changing directions. “The fight,” he explains at Neil’s slight furrowed brow.

“Oh,” Neil laughs, his shoulders relaxing from a tension Andrew hadn’t noticed before. “Yes, well, actions have consequences. I wanted to play, so I found a way to do that.”

“You could play on the drugs,” Andrew says, raising an eyebrow. “They allowed you on the court, even while medicated.”

Neil’s smile sharpens. “No, I couldn’t.” He says, an edge to his voice. He waves a hand in front of his face. “They made everything – fuzzy. Out of focus. How can I play when I can’t hold my thoughts within the court? How can I play when I’m buzzing and the rush of the high is so loud, I can’t think, can barely see what’s in front of me? No, I couldn’t play,” he snarls, the smile still plastered on. “But now I can.”

“Junkie.” Andrew says, disgusted, and Neil laughs.

Notes:

comments & kudos r appreciated!! yay!!!