Forever the name on my lips

by ellen_blake

Summary:

Andrew Minyard is now 20, and it’s been five years since he last heard of Neil Josten—if he was ever real to begin with.
Maybe Neil was just an illusion, a side effect of a fractured mind, something that lived in the space between nightmares and silence. All that’s left is a diary with a name and a memory too blurred to hold onto.
Then Kevin says Neil is coming back.
And in an instant, Andrew's carefully constructed world begins to collapse.

Notes:

Hi everyone, I'm Elle :)
I've thought a lot if this was worth publishing but well, my friends gave me the courage to do so.
This fic sticks as close to canon as possible — just a few changes for the sake of plot (and pain). I love Kevin and Andrew’s friendship so much, so you’ll definitely see that dynamic shine through. And yes… there will be angst. Neil and Andrew are the main characters here so there will be yearning. So much pining. But I also promise moments of softness, dark humor, and a few lighter scenes too — because they deserve that.
I really hope you'll enjoy. ❤️

Chapter 1: Prologue

5 Years Earlier — Age 15
February 2001

It was the middle of the night. Andrew Minyard was curled up under the warmth of his blankets, staring at the ceiling as he tried to fall asleep, but the stream of thoughts running through his head refused to stop. He was exhausted, and cold shivers ran through his body despite the layers of blankets. His room was dark, with only a small light glowing faintly. His breathing grew shallow and his heart rate sped up, so he clenched his fists tightly in an attempt to stay in control.

He abruptly got out of bed and began pacing back and forth across the room. His body was worn out, but his mind refused to quiet down. He walked toward the window—nestled between his desk and wardrobe—and opened it. The cold air hit his face, making him shiver. He leaned out. Since he was a child, the night had always been his safe place—the only time he didn’t have to worry about his oppressive life or what people thought of him (not that he cared, anyway). It was just him, the stars, and his beloved moon.

Living on the fifth floor of a building in Palmetto State, he could see the lights and hear the sounds of the ever-moving town below. Still, he found the stars far more interesting. So he curled up on the windowsill and stayed there, staring at the sky with a strangely innocent gaze.

His expression betrayed a flicker of vulnerability, a glimpse of the boy he used to be—troubled but still capable of dreaming and fighting. Too bad that boy was long gone. Sometimes he even found comfort in his loneliness, because in it he didn’t have to justify or explain what was wrong with his mind.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends. In fact, he was surrounded by people who claimed to care about him. But it was never enough. Andrew was nothing more than a faded shadow among people. No matter how much he pretended to fit in, a part of him always felt misplaced, and at the end of the day, all that remained was the silence.

He had lived with some sort of unfillable void inside him for as long as he could remember. “I was born broken,” he kept telling himself whenever he compared himself to his twin, Aaron. He liked to joke with Betsy—his former therapist and now adoptive mother—that he had the “gift” of eternal unhappiness, which only frustrated him more.

The problem was that no matter how many enviable things he had in life, or how others thought he lacked nothing, a part of him would always remain empty.

It was a bleak thought, because nothing could ever fill that void—not even love, and he was sure of it. Not that he had ever experienced love, anyway. It was probably just a stupid human illusion. All he had to do was remember that even his own parents had abandoned him after he was born. If they hadn’t loved him, how could he expect anyone else to?

Love was bullshit. No matter how many times Betsy told him he was loved, he knew the difference between love and pity far too well.

The night breeze caressed his face and tousled his messy blond hair. The more he leaned out the window, the more he thought about how much he wanted to jump—just for a moment.
He longed to taste that freedom everyone talked about.

It would only take one step. All he had to do was climb onto the ledge and jump.
So if it was that easy, why hadn’t he done it yet?

“It’s not the right night,” he told himself.

He wanted to keep letting the night cradle him, like a child reaching for his mother’s warmth. He needed that warmth to sink into his bones, even if he knew it was something he could never truly have.

Maybe anyone else would think it was foolish to cling to a fleeting illusion when your life is already hanging by a thread. But what if that illusion was the most real thing he’d ever felt?

What would people say in the face of a miserable life ruled by its own self-destructive instinct, where survival was a fragile balance?

Andrew himself was a person on the edge.
Sanity or madness?
Life or death?
Feel or don’t feel?
Human or not?
Lie or truth?
Reality or illusion?

These were the questions he couldn’t answer—not even with his intellect. Maybe there was no answer at all.

Humans always thought they knew everything, building their morality on what was right for society or on a faith they had invented themselves. But in the end, everything they said was bullshit.
How could he feel human in a society that painted the world in black or white, good or evil, when he existed in the in-between?

He was gray.
Not good, not evil—just Andrew Joseph Minyard.

There was no faith or religion that could hold him, and even if there had been, he wouldn’t have been worthy of praying to it.
He was impure by nature, and he couldn’t understand how he managed to hide it so well from the people around him or the society he was forced to adapt to.

If it was clearly a lie, why did everyone still see the mask?

Simple.
Humans only see what they want—or what’s convenient to see.

He slowly moved away from the window, walking barefoot across the cold floor, and sat down at his desk under the dim glow of the lamp. He picked up a small, leather-covered journal and opened it, letting his tired gaze fall on the pages.

His eyes scanned the writing until one name caught his attention: Neil Josten.

In that exact moment, something inside him eased—though his expression remained unreadable.

Neil was one of his Exy teammates. Annoying as hell, almost like Kevin, but just interesting enough to catch Andrew’s attention.
And for some strange reason, Neil had never once seemed afraid of him.
Somewhere deep down, Andrew was grateful for that.

Not long after, his eyelids began to grow heavy, and he fell asleep at his desk—curled up like a child in the fetal position.

Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Andrew

Five Years Later-20 years old

It was a morning like many others: the sky was gray, and the air smelled like rain. As always, January didn’t hold back with its cold and dreary weather.

Andrew had just woken up and was still rolling around beneath the warm blankets while a ray of light filtered through the window, faintly illuminating his room.
He got out of bed, stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t slept much that night, and the dark purple bags under his eyes were proof of it — he looked like he hadn’t slept in months. He grabbed a sweatshirt and sweatpants and walked out of the room to make himself some coffee.

He knew Aaron and Kevin were probably sitting in the living room, but he chose to blissfully ignore them and headed to the kitchen. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone that morning. At that moment, he only needed two things: caffeine and nicotine.
Once he finished his coffee, he returned to the living room and lit a cigarette.

To his left, Aaron was sitting on the couch with a medical textbook in his lap, twirling a pen between his fingers like it was a scalpel. Andrew could sense his every move even without looking at him. He didn’t need to look. He always knew exactly where his brother was.
They shared a precise distance: a constant silence and a tacit agreement to pretend the other didn’t exist.

They didn’t hate each other. Not exactly. But sometimes the silence between them was so tense it could be cut with scissors.
It was like a vase shattered multiple times and glued back together again and again, though the pieces had never been put in the right order — and now the vase stood upright by sheer miracle.
Neither of them seemed willing to reopen old wounds just to figure out how to fit the pieces correctly, especially if it meant breaking in front of each other.
There were too many unsaid words between them, and despite their constant presence in each other's lives, it created a deep rift of repressed resentment and bitterness.

A chair creaked to his right, pulling him from his thoughts.

Kevin Day.

Kevin tapped his foot for the fourth time in under a minute. He was watching a Trojans Exy match on his laptop, looking especially focused.
Andrew heard him but said nothing. Kevin had his own way of existing — steady, grounded, as if chaos never really touched him. There was something almost perfect about every one of his movements, an enviable posture and poise.

Despite their nine-year friendship, Andrew still hadn’t decided whether or not he hated him for that. Maybe he did — because Kevin could be extremely irritating — but in a manageable way.
With Kevin, things had always been different. Simpler than with any other human being. A constant presence, like a background melody you eventually find comforting.

Kevin Day was exactly that for him. His first, true, and only friend.
Their friendship had begun from a stupid deal made in middle school, and it had turned into trust, admiration, and mutual respect. As if they’d both found the person they could survive with and share the misfortunes of this useless and unjust life.

Of course, he’d never say it to his face.

- - -

That afternoon, practice had been torture.

Wymack had pushed them to their limits, and Andrew could feel his legs burning from the effort, but it didn’t stop him from running. It wasn’t about endurance: it was about principle.
If the body protested, you ignored it. If it collapsed, you got back up. Simple.
Black or white. You endure, or you fall.

The second half of practice was even worse than the first.
Bodies crashing into each other, dirty contact, sweat in their eyes, heart pounding so hard it felt off-beat.
Nicky collapsed on the ground, exhausted, and earned a whistle from Wymack.

Kevin was yelling somewhere at the new recruits — orders, numbers, curses in French or something close to it — and Andrew ignored him on principle as he kept running alongside Renee in the bleachers.

Renee was talking about some zombie movie, and Andrew listened with interest. He was grateful for the distraction from the ache in his side.

His relationship with Renee was something without definition. They didn’t call each other "friends", but there was a silent understanding between them — not because they owed each other anything, but because they’d each seen something in the other that didn’t need to be explained to be understood.

Renee was one of the few people Andrew allowed close. Not because he needed her — Andrew didn’t need anyone, at least not in the way others meant it — but because he didn’t feel the need to push her away.
She was a rare exception. And exceptions, for Andrew, were never random.

They owed each other nothing, but gave enough.

And in a world that had taught Andrew not to trust anyone, Renee was living proof that maybe — just maybe — there were people who didn’t lie, didn’t demand, didn’t intrude. People who stayed without asking for anything in return. Too bad the other Foxes had no idea about any of this. Them and their stupid bets. They seriously thought he and Renee were sleeping together or had some kind of ulterior motive. They threw his name around every time they wanted to spit venom or laugh behind his back, but hadn’t even noticed the most obvious detail of all. He was gay. He couldn’t be interested in her like that even if he wanted to.

When Wymack blew the final whistle, he and Renee stopped running at once. The silence that followed was louder than the noise. The new recruits lay on the ground, completely worn out, while Kevin kept yelling something at one of them — something unintelligible from that distance. Andrew pulled off his mask with trembling hands. His face was dripping with sweat, his muscles ached, and every fiber in his body screamed at him to make Kevin pay for those fifteen laps.

But he was still standing.

And that was enough.

- - -

After showering and changing, he headed toward his car when Kevin caught up, walking beside him.

<<What do you think about the new recruits?>> Kevin asked with a tone that hinted at some hidden motive.

Andrew looked at him, confused. Why was he even asking when he knew Andrew didn’t care?

<<I don’t care,>> he answered flatly.

Kevin smirked.
<<I think you will care when I tell you the name of the next recruit. He’s from England.>>

Andrew was even more confused. Why would he care about some English kid joining the team?

Before he could speak, Kevin cut him off.
<<His name is Neil Abram Josten.>>

At that name, Andrew’s heart did a somersault. He swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for words. How... how was that even possible? Neil was a fantasy. Something his brain had made up under the influence of meds. And how the hell did Kevin know his name? Was it possible it had all been real this entire time?

<<How do you know…?>> His face must’ve looked like pure panic because Kevin immediately stopped him and — without much delicacy — ruffled his hair.

<<Jesus Christ, Andrew, calm down… you look like you’ve seen a ghost.>>

Andrew looked up at him at the contact.
Kevin sighed before continuing.

<<If you’re wondering how I know about Neil… Well, truth is, I read your journal.>>
There was guilt hidden beneath a note of concern.
<<I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I swear. But during the time you were on the meds, Aaron and I were really worried you might… you might try to kill yourself again… and your journal was the only way to know if you were having those thoughts again.>>

Kevin looked visibly stressed, so Andrew remained expressionless and let him keep going.

He knew all too well how much his suicide attempt had affected Kevin’s mental health — how it had driven him to stay by Andrew’s side nearly every second, afraid to lose him.
After Kevin’s mother Kayleigh died in a car accident, he had never been the same.

His fear of losing someone again was so strong, he would’ve done anything to keep another human being alive — especially someone he loved.
Kevin had a gift for making people feel seen and important. Even the hopeless cases, to Kevin, deserved a shot. Andrew himself had value in Kevin’s eyes.

That’s why he’d never blame Kevin for reading his journal.

<<Aaron told me he wouldn’t do it, said he had no right,>> Kevin continued.
<<So I took it upon myself. And believe me, I was relieved to see the disturbing thoughts had decreased…But seeing that kid’s name appear so many times surprised me. I didn’t say anything though. Not to Aaron, not to you. It wasn’t my business…Are you mad?.>>

Andrew took a deep breath and shrugged.
That was enough for Kevin.

Curiosity got the better of Andrew. <<What does Neil have to do with this now?>>

<<Two weeks ago, I got an email from Neil. He wanted to know about the university’s program and whether he could join the Exy team. I sent him everything he needed. A week later, he sent me back the enrollment form, documents, and all the paperwork. He said he’ll be arriving here in three days.>>

Andrew didn’t know what to feel or say. Was he dreaming? He had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation. Or maybe he had gone completely insane.
It couldn’t be true. Neil was real. Neil was real and he would be here in three days.

Without realizing it, Andrew began walking toward the car, leaving Kevin behind.
Kevin didn’t follow, and Andrew was grateful for that — even though he could feel his gaze burning into his skin. He didn’t look back. He got in the car and drove home, thoughts in chaos.

- - -

When he got home, he pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, closing it behind him. Usually, he only came home on weekends to visit Bee, but today he needed to come back to his room. 

That room held so many memories.

Andrew had grown up there, fallen apart, thought he couldn’t go on, and had found the strength to get back up. That mirror, in front of which he had cried so many times, muffling his screams during nights when the emotional pain was so crushing it choked his lungs.
That pillow, he used to hug tightly to remind himself he wasn’t in foster care anymore — that he had a real home. That tiny window, where he would lean out to feel the breeze during sleepless nights. The white walls, full of posters of musicians, bands, and films he had collected over the years.

Everything felt so familiar.

His first real room. A place he could call "his", even if he never felt worthy of having anything.
His safe space when the world hurt too much.

Bee wasn’t home, so he didn’t bother locking the door behind him.

He opened the closet and pulled out a box from under a pile of clothes. Inside it were various items he had saved over the years. Among them, a small leather notebook.

His journal.

He opened the pages slowly, as if afraid the words inside might hurt him.
His fingers turned the pages carefully, retracing his middle school years and the early days of high school.

His eyes stopped on a few pages in particular:

 

04/15/2000
A new recruit joined our team today. His name is Neil Josten.

 

05/20/2000
Neil is so irritating. I can’t stand him. I wish his eyes didn’t distract me so much.

 

06/01/2000
Summer break started today, which means I won’t see Neil until September. Not that I want to see him. I hate him so much.
He even dared to smile at me today with those stupid rosy lips…They look soft. Not that I care.

 

10/17/2000
Some teammates called me a “monster” today. Neil punched them. How dare he get involved in my business? I hate him.

 

12/18/2000
I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone this much. Neil.

 

01/26/2001
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.
Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil. Neil.

 

06/01/2001
Summer again. See you in September, Neil. Andrew flipped through the pages until he reached that fateful September.

 

09/01/2001
Neil didn’t show up to practice today. He’s probably sick.

(at least that's what he had hoped for)

 

June 1st, 2001, was the last time he saw him. No one mentioned him again. New recruits came in. The world kept spinning. But something in Andrew’s world had stopped.

The next year, in 2002, he was put on antipsychotics for nearly killing four people.
Andrew didn’t regret it. Not one bit. Those bastards had threatened his cousin Nicky — they deserved it.

Time passed. Years passed. And still no sign of Neil.
Andrew even doubted he had ever existed.
Maybe he was an illusion… a pipe dream .

He remembered the emptiness crushing his chest every time his mind brought him back to that name. Neil.

Those damned blue eyes. His anchor when he was lost in the dark of his nightmares.

Neil’s eyes were an unresolved mystery, a stormy sky held just beneath the surface.
So blue they resembled the purest ocean, but under the right light — or the right gaze — they revealed deeper reflections, like they held entire worlds no one had ever seen.
There was always something held back in them, a frozen escape in his stare, like he was always about to run and yet stayed — just for a moment — to look at you.
They were tired eyes, marked by too many goodbyes, yet still able to shine — not with hope, maybe, but with defiance. The kind of quiet resistance that doesn’t ask for saving, but deserves it all.

Those eyes were real. They belonged to Neil Josten. Neil was real.
He had been real all along.

Andrew closed the journal and lay down on the bed, still clutching the journal to his chest.

Notes:

hii everyone :)
first of all, I loved writing Andrew's pov and I tried to stay in character as much as possible.
second of all, THE PINING. you're definitely gonna see a lot of it because come on, who doesn't love an oblivious Neil and a in denial Andrew.
also, can we please talk about Kevin? he's such a sweetheart deep down. I can't wait to write more about him too.
anyway, less yapping, I really hoped you loved this chapter as much as i loved writing it!
and of course, thanks to everyone who showed support for the prologue, it means the world to me.

just a few things to know before the second chapter:
-next chapter's pov is Neil's.
-i'll update every friday.
-keep in mind for the next chapters the date 06/01/2001 from Andrew's journal.
-if you're interested in a playlist for this fic i might thinking about sharing it.

and that's it for today.
love, elle. ❤️

Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Neil

Notes:

Hii everyone, how are you?
I updated today as promised! I'm so sleep deprived lately I swear.
I just wanted to thank everyone for all the support with the kudos and comments, it means the world to me.
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!!!

Neil was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, packing his bag. That evening, he would take his long-awaited flight to the United States.
He was putting clothes into the bag with unusual care when he noticed his uncle Stuart watching him from the doorway.

<<You’re not seriously thinking of going off for four years of college, on the other side of the world, with just one bag, are you?>> Stuart sounded exasperated. <<Please tell me that’s just your carry-on.>>

Neil shrugged with an innocence that was almost irritating.

<<No, this is my only luggage. Everything I need is in here.>>

Stuart knew arguing with Neil was like arguing with a wall, so he simply crouched down beside him to see what he had put inside.
Neil watched him silently, aware that his stubbornness must have reminded Stuart of his mother—Stuart’s beloved sister—which was probably why he never flinched at Neil’s whims.

<<Alright, do as you wish. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. Anyway, I’ve loaded £300,000 onto your credit card; that should be enough. Now go downstairs and eat—three hours from now we have to be at the airport, and don’t even think about skipping dinner.>>

Neil nodded and headed downstairs.

---

Before getting into the car, he looked around. The air was fresh; it was nearly night, and the sunset could be glimpsed between the hills.

In that moment, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He had spent the last five years of his life with his uncle in Yorkshire, and he couldn’t say it had been bad. Yorkshire had been his peace after the storm, but it was time for him to start living again. He missed playing Exy like he missed breathing, and having no friends didn’t help. He needed to go back to the last place where he had felt truly alive before everything fell apart—Palmetto State.

Without looking back, he got into the car and closed the door.

About two hours later, they arrived at the airport, and Neil felt strangely calm. His flight was in 15 minutes, so he turned to his uncle with a gesture of farewell and gratitude.

Stuart couldn’t resist—after all, Neil was his only nephew—and he hugged him, giving him an encouraging pat on the back.

<<Good luck, my boy, and please, I expect at least one phone call a month to hear how things are going. Now go to your gate, the United States are waiting for you… and if you ever feel you’ve made the wrong choice, you know you can always come back to me.>>

Neil hugged him again.

<<Thanks, Uncle. I’ll be in touch, I promise. Goodbye.>>

With that, Neil headed for the gate, pulling out his documents for boarding. Ahead of him was a roughly thirteen-hour flight, during which he intended to get some rest.

---

Once he found his seat on the plane, he got comfortable. Of course, his uncle must have booked him a first-class seat—but Neil wasn’t about to complain.

He gazed out the window, letting the sensation of takeoff lull him. As soon as the plane reached altitude, he fell asleep. He woke about seven hours later, realizing he could see the sunrise.

The sky, pitch black just hours earlier, was now layered in colors: deep blue, then indigo, lilac, and finally that warm pink that only altitude can make so pure. The sun, still hidden, began painting the cloud tops gold—turning them from gray to white, then rosy, then fiery, as if the sky itself were being embraced by flame.

It was a suspended, silent moment. From above, the sunrise wasn’t just the beginning of the day—it was a promise .

The promise Neil made to himself was to find a purpose. He wanted to stop running and find something worth staying for—a place to belong. He hadn’t survived the horrors of his past just to keep hiding. He was tired of being a shadow in the dark; for once, he wanted to be the light. A light born in silence, far from the noise of the earth, reminding you how vast and fragile the sky above us really is.

Neil’s face was pressed to the window, bathed in new light; he felt small and infinite all at once.

Looking at the sky brought back another reason for wanting to return to the States. In fact, probably the main one. He reached into his bag and pulled out an old hoodie. Its seams were slightly frayed, the fabric worn and faded from countless washes, the black now closer to a dark gray. Anyone else would have thrown it away long ago, but Neil slipped it on and clung to it as he had so many times before, as if to anchor himself.

It had been the first thing anyone had ever given him with kindness, and after five years, he still kept it close—often under his pillow during nights when nightmares won. Despite Stuart’s many attempts to make him throw it away and replace it with something new and expensive, Neil had always refused. This hoodie was special. Special like the person who had given it to him—someone who, even after all these years, still haunted his thoughts.

---

Flashback — Five years earlier — June 1, 2001

Neil was in the locker room, grabbing his things before heading off until September. It had been the last practice of the season, and summer had finally arrived. Any boy his age would’ve been thrilled—but not Neil. Sure, he was glad for a break, but only if it didn’t mean going home to solitude.

Exy was the only thing giving him purpose, the only thing that reminded him he had value. Outside of it, he was just a kid running out of time from the shadow of his past, leaving behind a trail of discarded identities. Neil was just one of many names—maybe the last, if his father didn’t find them.

For the first time, Neil actually wanted to stay. Not for any particular reason—though a certain pair of hazel eyes might have said otherwise.

Shaking the thought away, he headed for the exit—only to stop short. It was raining. Two miles to walk in a downpour.

<<Shit,>> he muttered. He hadn’t even brought a jacket—it was June, after all; who expected rain like this?

With an annoyed sigh, and without even covering his head with his bag, he started walking quickly through the rain as if it were nothing.

A moment later, he heard footsteps behind him, but didn’t turn—until he felt soft, cold fingers brush lightly against his wrist.

He spun around. Raindrops slid down his face, dripping from his already-soaked curls.

Andrew Minyard stood in front of him, his gaze fixed on Neil.

<<Andrew…>> Neil began, but before he could finish, Andrew pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

<<Take it. You need it more than I do right now.>> He held out his black hoodie without hesitation. Neil had seen him wear it countless times—it had to be one of his favorites. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. Not for him.

Neil stared, stunned. For a moment, time seemed to shrink, seconds stretching into hours, every sound around them fading. Andrew had just given him his hoodie. Stupid. Insignificant. He kept repeating that to himself. Because Andrew didn’t do kind things—not like this. Not without a reason.

And yet here he was. Calm. Present. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if Neil were… important. Worthy.

As usual, Neil tried to argue. <<I can’t accept it. Besides, it’s not even that cold, and like this you’ll be the one who’s cold>>

Andrew rolled his eyes. <<I hate you. For once, shut that damn mouth and let someone help you. I’m not taking no for an answer.>>

By then, the downpour had worsened, but neither of them seemed to care.

Neil’s heart skipped when Andrew pressed the hoodie against his chest, reinforcing the seriousness of his offer. Neil swallowed, his fingers trembling slightly as they clutched the fabric. He hoped Andrew hadn’t noticed—though maybe he had and simply chose to say nothing.

Before Neil could thank him, Andrew had already turned and was walking toward Aaron, who was watching them with a scowl.

Neil slipped it on, feeling an immediate wave of warmth despite the hoodie being wet. No one had ever deemed him worthy of kindness before. No one had treated him with such regard—and beneath Andrew’s apparently cold words, Neil had heard something else: concern.

Did Andrew care about him? Why?

Neil wanted to stay now more than ever. After all, he had to give the hoodie back, right? In September. Yes, September.

Too bad he didn’t know that, before then, his world would be turned upside down again—in the worst way possible.

He would never return that September.

---

When Neil got off at Columbia airport, he felt slightly disoriented. He knew Kevin was supposed to pick him up, but before he could pull out his phone to call him, someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

He had to look up to see who it was, and to his relief, it was indeed Kevin. He had definitely grown up in the last five years, but for the better—Neil would dare say he looked even better in person than in the photos in magazines. Kevin was one of those people who were objectively and undeniably handsome, but Neil didn’t really care. He was mostly honored to be able to play with a champion.

<<Neil? Hey, long time.>> Kevin’s eyes flicked down at Neil’s clothes—and no wonder, he could easily compete with a homeless person in the “who dresses worse” contest.

<<Hi,>> Neil replied simply, <<where are we going from here?>>

<<My dad David is waiting for us in the car outside, follow me.>>

Neil followed silently.

<<Is that your only bag?>> Kevin asked, curious.

<<Yes.>>

Kevin didn’t press further—it wasn’t his business anyway.

Once they reached the car, Kevin opened the door, and both of them got into the back seats.

The first part of the ride was silent until Kevin—probably unable to bear the quiet any longer—started talking. <<I remember you weren’t bad at Exy. Have you trained with any English teams these years?>> he tried to start a conversation.

<<I would’ve liked to, but no. Actually, I think I have to pretty much start from scratch.>>

<<That’s not a problem. We have lots of new players this year, and since you’ve got a foundation, you’ll have an advantage. Plus, you already know much of the team, which should help—at least, I hope so.>>

Kevin’s words gave Neil a bit of reassurance.

<<However,>> Kevin continued, <<don’t expect mercy or pity from me. I won’t be kind, but I promise if you’re worth it, I’ll teach you everything I know. Am I clear?>>

Neil swallowed, sensing a hint of arrogance in Kevin’s tone. <<Crystal clear.>>

At that moment, Wymack interrupted: <<Come on, Kevin! Don’t traumatize the kid on day one.>>

Kevin rolled his eyes and changed the subject. They talked about Exy for a few hours and seemed to get along well. It was almost fun debating game plays with Kevin—he was so passionate about everything, even the smallest details.

This only made Neil want to improve and prove to Kevin that he was worth something.

However one question kept echoing in his mind: <<Andrew Minyard is on the team, right? I remember you were close friends.>>

Kevin gave a strange smirk at the question, which Neil couldn’t interpret. <<Why do you care? Anyway, yeah, he’s on the team. Same old grumpy Andrew.>>

Neil sighed in relief, hoping Kevin wouldn’t notice.

<<I don’t care.>> He said it sharply. It was a blatant lie, but Kevin didn’t need to know.

Kevin didn’t argue. <<Suit yourself.>>

Silence fell between them until Wymack announced they had arrived.

---

Once out of the car, they walked toward the dormitory. Kevin explained the dorm’s layout meticulously, as if he’d rehearsed the speech beforehand. Neil listened attentively but curiosity gnawed at him.

<<Do you know who my roommate is?>>

Kevin gave a cryptic smile.

<<I paired you myself.>> Then he continued, <<I remember you have a strong personality, and Jean—your roommate—is really something else. I thought you might make a good team.>>

<<Jean…?>> Neil thought for a moment. <<Jean Moreau?>>

<<Bingo.>> Kevin sighed and was silent for a moment before continuing, <<I don’t know what opinion you might have of him from the media since he’s very private, but I assure you, he’s a good person. At first, he can seem gruff, solitary, grumpy and quiet, but give yourself a chance to get to know him. You told me you don’t have many friends either, so I was hoping maybe you’d get along. When you know him, he can be extremely loyal, kind, caring, and even funny in his own way.>>

Neil noticed how Kevin’s tone softened unconsciously when speaking about Jean.

<<Alright, got it. I’ll do my best.>>

Neil didn’t know what to expect. He had heard many things about Jean in recent years—both good and bad—but one thing was certain: he played Exy flawlessly. Still, Neil wouldn’t let rumors influence him. He would see for himself in time. He had also heard the rumors about how the Ravens had treated Jean badly in the spring and how he’d moved to the Foxes through a certain Renee Walker, so he would understand if Jean was reserved.

Kevin led him to the dorm door and knocked hesitantly.

Behind the door, a deep male voice cursed in French, and within seconds the door swung open.

Out stepped a very tall man—even taller than Kevin. His defined physique showed beneath his shirt, probably from hours of endless physical training. But what struck Neil was the scar on his nose—clearly broken multiple times. His black hair was messy and uneven, and his eyes a deep gray.

Jean didn’t even notice Neil’s presence; his gaze was fixed on Kevin, and before Neil could say anything, Jean slammed the door in his face.

<<Very friendly,>> Neil said with nonchalance, making Kevin laugh.

<<Don’t mind him, give him ten seconds and he’ll calmly reopen the door.>>

Kevin just rolled his eyes but didn’t seem surprised by Jean’s reaction, which intrigued Neil.

<<One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine…>> Kevin started counting seriously, but before he could say ten, as predicted, Jean reopened the door.

Neil saw them look at each other, and for a moment, he sensed tension—something repressed between them. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or just raw desire over something unresolved. But it wasn’t his business to comment.

Jean broke the silence with an annoyed tone in French:

<<Quoi? Tu veux quoi?>> (“What? What do you want?”)

Kevin remained unfazed.

<<I brought you your new roommate. Be nice.>>

Jean glared, then lowered his eyes toward Neil.

<<Désolé, I’m Jean, nice to meet you.>>

He seemed slightly embarrassed for not noticing Neil before.

<<Pas de problème, I’m Neil.>>

Jean lit up hearing Neil respond in French, as if it was an unexpected but welcome surprise.

<<Come in,>> he said, ignoring Kevin, who then waved goodbye and headed to his own room.

Neil followed him inside, closing the door behind him. The apartment was bigger than he expected. He looked around for a moment before Jean’s voice distracted him.

<<If you want to put your things down, the room is at the end of the hall on the left.>> He took a breath before continuing, <<also, sorry you had to witness that pathetic scene earlier, but it’s complicated.>>

<<You probably had your reasons. I’m not judging,>> Neil said quickly, trying to erase the awkwardness.

Jean nodded, probably grateful Neil hadn’t asked questions.

Neil went to his room and lay down for a moment on the empty bed that would be his from now on. He closed his eyes, trying to process all the day’s information—and before he knew it, he fell asleep.

---

About two hours later, he woke up, still dazed, and headed toward the kitchen, drawn by a good smell.

He found Jean cooking something at the stove and approached.

<<What are you making?>>

Jean turned quickly, nearly dropping the egg he held.

<<Putain! You can’t sneak up like that—you’ll give someone a heart attack!>> he huffed, then gave a half-smile.

<<Sorry… didn’t mean to.>> Neil rubbed his still-sleepy eyes.

<<No worries. Anyway, I cooked some zucchini in the pan and was about to make an omelette. I can make one for you too if you want.>>

Neil was starting to get hungry since he hadn’t eaten since leaving his uncle’s house.

<<Oui, merci,>> he answered in French without thinking.

<<You speak French? Where did you learn?>>

Without going into detail, Neil said,

<<I lived in Quebec for ten months when I was little.>>

<<Now I understand your accent. With all due respect, it’s horrible.>>

Jean’s honesty made Neil smile.

<<Yours isn’t exactly the classic Parisian accent either. Where are you from?>>

<<Marseille, southern France.>>

<<I was born here in America. My dad is American and my mom is English. Actually, I lived in Yorkshire with my uncle for the past five years.>>

They kept talking about this and that all evening and had dinner together. Jean’s company wasn’t so bad; in fact, it was almost pleasant.

<<Tomorrow the Foxes are throwing a party like every Saturday. Are you going?>> Jean asked at one point.

<<I think I should, but I don’t like crowded places—too many people.>>

<<Don’t tell me about it. I hate people. I hate everyone equally, except maybe Renee. She’s bearable. Actually, tomorrow night I’m staying here with her to watch a movie.>>

<<Then I’ll leave you some privacy. After all, I have to look for someone.>> Neil definitely didn’t want to be a third wheel in whatever was going on between them.

<<Oh no no, you can stay if you want. You got it wrong. She and I aren’t together anymore. We dated for a while but agreed to stay friends. Anyway, who are you looking for?>>

Neil thought for a moment whether to say or not, then shrugged.

<<Andrew Minyard. You should know, before moving to my uncle’s in England, I played with the Foxes five years ago. So I already knew Andrew, Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin.>>

Jean raised an eyebrow.

<<Why Andrew? He’s usually the last person anyone would look for.>>

<<See this hoodie I’m wearing?>>

<<Unfortunately, yes. Looks like it’s been chewed by a dog. You really should get a new one.>>

<<He gave it to me five years ago. I don’t exactly know what I want to say to him, or anything really. I don’t even know if he’ll want to talk or remember me. It’s just that… sometimes I think about him, and… it would be enough just to see him again.>>

Jean was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing.

<<Sounds like the plot of one of those Thai gay dramas Renee watches. I like it.>>

<<There’s nothing funny about it, and I’m not gay. I don’t swing.>>

<<Mh. Okay, whatever.>> Jean gave him a look of disbelief because he didn’t believe him at all, but he decided to let it go.

Neil took the opportunity to tease him.

<<Besides, you and Kevin aren’t much better. Seriously… What was that scene earlier? I felt the tension too.>>

<<Tais-toi, Kevin and I are nothing. Never have been, never will be. I hate him.>>

Neil knew a lie when he heard one, and that was obvious.

<<Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.>>

<<Va te faire foutre. And seriously, throw that hoodie away. I think there’s a new ecosystem growing in it with new life forms.>>

Neil laughed, knowing there was some truth to that but still wouldn’t throw it away.

<<I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep.>>

<<Make sure to put sheets on before you sleep this time. There are clean ones in the closet.>>

<<Okay. Bonne nuit.>>

<<Bonne nuit.>>

 

Notes:

Hii, it's me again!
I had so much fun writing this chapter. Neil is just so oblivious and god, I love Jean so much, he's iconic.
I had to add some kevjean angst because let's be real, it was needed; and the yearning between Neil and Andrew!
Let me know what you guys think of this chapter!

Fun facts:
-When I first started writing this, Matt had to be Neil's roommate like in canon, however I thought about ''misplaced partner'' and i was like, what if in this universe Jean and Neil are actually not misplaced? so here we are.
-When Jean slammed the door in Kevin's face, I initially wanted the door to actually hit him on his face.

Next chapter is gonna be Andrew's pov.
Next update: next Friday.

Also I was wondering, would be interested in an extra chapter from Kevin's pov?
Anyway, that's all for today, byee!

Love, Elle💕

Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Andrew

Notes:

hii everyone!
here another chapter published today as promised :)
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I hope you're okay.
thank you for all the support i'm receiving, I'm so grateful and I also wanna take a moment to thank deeply my friends Jay and Andrea for reviewing and reading the chapters in advance. (It means a lot)

Andrew and Aaron were sitting together on the armchair watching a movie when Kevin walked into the room.

The twins didn’t pay him any attention until Kevin moved closer to Andrew, distracting him from the screen.

<<Guess what!>>

Andrew already knew what this was about, but he decided to play dumb.

<<What?>> His expression was indifferent, slightly annoyed.

<<Neil Josten is here. I dropped him off at the dorm ten minutes ago,>> Kevin said with a sickly sweet smile that made Andrew want to punch him.

That name caught Aaron’s attention; he turned to listen.

<<Who? What are you guys talking about?>> Nicky said, coming out of the kitchen and waving at Kevin. He could never mind his own business, but then again, what could anyone expect? He was Nicky after all.

<<We were talking about Neil Josten, remember? He played with us about five years ago. Auburn hair, blue eyes, short…>> Andrew was grateful Kevin didn’t add more details.

<<Oh my god, I get it. Wasn’t he that cute boy Andrew had a thing for? I think I remember him, but it’s been so long I’d erased him from my thoughts.>>

If Andrew had been closer, he would’ve elbowed him in the ribs, but for now he chose silence and indifference.

<<That’s him,>> Kevin dared to say, earning a murderous glare from Andrew.

<<Disgusting. I still remember when he gave him the hoodie,>> Aaron said.

<<What hoodie? He gave him a hoodie?>> Nicky was clearly fishing for gossip.

Andrew stood up from the armchair.
<<Okay. The next person who even tries to open their mouth, I’ll slit their throat.>>

Kevin rolled his eyes and stepped in before Andrew could actually kill someone.
<<Don’t be so aggressive. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you had a crush on someone. Look at Aaron—he’s been pining after Katelyn for at least two years and still hasn’t asked her out. Plus, look on the bright side: maybe you’ll get a chance to reconnect.>>

<<Exactly, Aaron’s an idiot. He can’t even talk to her without stuttering,>> Nicky teased.

<<I hate all of you,>> Aaron said flatly.

<<Love you too, cousin.>> Nicky’s tone was annoyingly playful.

Andrew turned his focus back on Kevin.

<<We were never close, and I don’t care.>> His tone was scornful.

<<Liar. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be reacting like this. You’re acting this way because he matters more to you than he should, and you hate it. You hate him because he matters. You’re pathetic when you deny something that obvious.>>

Damn Kevin, for knowing him that well.

<<Shut your mouth, Day. I’m warning you.>>

Kevin smirked, knowing he was right.

<<You and Jean are even more pathetic. You obviously want to jump each other, but you are an idiot for realizing it too late and he’s a prideful fool for not giving you a second chance, when he’s spent the last five years looking at you like you’re the center of his world.” Andrew knew he’d hit a nerve, but Kevin deserved it at that moment.

<<Low blow,>> Aaron laughed. That was his revenge for the comment about Katelyn.

Kevin’s expression shifted into something unreadable. <<You know what? Go to hell. That’s not why he doesn’t talk to me. I knew what Riko was putting him through in the Ravens and I kept my mouth shut, out of fear. I’m a coward. I couldn’t protect him and now I lost him. Renee had the guts to do what I never could. I don’t deserve his forgiveness, and I won’t even ask for it.>> His voice cracked, guilt eating away at him.

For a moment Andrew thought he could hear Kevin’s heart shattering piece by piece. He knew he’d gone too far, but he would never apologize. Kevin wouldn’t expect it anyway.

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by Nicky.

<<Come on, Kev, you know… If you ever need to forget about Jean, you know I’m always up for a quickie.>> He winked.

<<Shut up,>> Andrew muttered, pulling a Swiss knife from his sleeve.

Nicky flinched, took a step back, then returned to his usual expression, raising his hands in surrender. <<Relax, I was joking. You’re not really offended, right Kevin?>>

Kevin didn’t even look at him and walked into the kitchen.
<<I need vodka.>>

Andrew knew perfectly well about Kevin’s alcohol problem, but he wouldn’t say a word. What could he say without sounding like a hypocrite? He couldn’t lecture Kevin when he was worse himself.

Aaron shrugged and left the dorm, followed by Nicky.

Andrew collapsed onto the couch and turned off the still-playing TV. He stared at the ceiling in silence for about ten minutes, his mind wandering from one thought to another until it stopped on one in particular. Neil. Neil was so close. What was supposed to be a pipe dream, a mere wish, an illusion, was now more real than ever.

He wasn’t ready. Not that Andrew ever prepared for anything he couldn’t predict, but this—this was different. Five years should have been enough to forget the exact shade of his eyes or the way his mouth curved in a half-smile that never fully formed. Andrew had filed it all away: a sealed folder, shoved into a mental drawer, covered in dust. He never dared linger on those thoughts for too long—he couldn’t. But now the dust was gone. Now Neil was here. Alive. Real. And the space between them was shrinking.

 

---

 

The next day, everyone was getting ready for the party after the usual afternoon practice. It happened every Saturday because the coach said it helped the new recruits bond with the team, and it was good for everyone to spend some time together off the court.

Andrew thought it was stupid, but at least it gave him an excuse to drink for free. Most of the time, he would hide on the dorm rooftop anyway. Being around people meant lowering his guard, letting someone invade the space he wore like armor. It meant pretending, answering dumb questions, offering fragments of himself he didn’t want to share. Most people talked to fill silences that, for him, were necessary to breathe. And Andrew hated that subtle invasion, that demand for access. He could tolerate it only for a couple of hours—and with alcohol.

That evening, however, he wasn’t in the mood at all. Neil would be there, and as much as the deepest part of him craved the sight of the boy more than anything, there was no way in hell he would allow himself to seek him out. Deep down, he was almost afraid that the Neil he remembered no longer existed—or worse, had never existed. Maybe his mind had idealized it all. Maybe his eyes had never been that deep blue, maybe his smile had never been that pure. Maybe Neil had never even looked him in the face—or if he had once, would he still? The cautious part of him wanted Neil to remain a dream. A simple ideal to cling to. That would mean no pain, no feelings. But who was he kidding? He needed to see him so badly it felt like his chest was being crushed, like the air was being ripped from his lungs. He was a fool.

He stood up from the couch and went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of whiskey while from the bathroom he could hear Kevin belting out “…Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears at full volume. God, he was so off-key, but Andrew had gotten used to his “performances.”

He uncapped the bottle and lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The alcohol burned down his throat, sliding into his stomach like a blade shaving the sharp edges of his thoughts, leaving behind a dull void where urgency used to be. It burned instantly, sliding fast, scratching his throat, leaving behind a dirty warmth that lingered. There was nothing elegant or pleasant about it: it was a blunt, mechanical act, meant to numb, not savor. The point was to switch off. Every glass was a hit against the voices in his head, against the thoughts that bit too hard. Drinking like this was his way of ordering his body: stop feeling, stop remembering. There was no pleasure, no relief. Just the illusion of control in the chaos of his mind.

The bathroom door opened, and a clean, well-prepared Kevin stepped out. Andrew’s eyes lingered on how annoyingly neat his hair looked slicked back with gel, how his dark circles were covered by concealer, and how a simple white polo and tight jeans looked perfect on his sculpted body. It was irritating how Kevin always managed to look “perfect,” when Andrew on most days barely had the strength to get out of bed. Of course, he knew how much pressure Kevin put on himself; sometimes he was way too hard on himself. Still, Andrew couldn’t help but envy him, because he knew he’d never care enough about himself to set goals to improve.

<<Already drinking?>> Kevin asked, breaking the silence.

Andrew nodded, taking another sip.
<<I don’t think I’ll come with the others tonight. I’ll go up to the roof and watch the stars.>>

<<Want me to come with you?>>

<<No. You’d get bored. Go with the others, you love attention anyway.>> Andrew’s tone was sharp, almost acidic.

Kevin let it slide, knowing how grumpy Andrew could get when drinking.
<<But Neil? Don’t you want to see him?>>

<<Don’t say his name.>> Andrew couldn’t bear to hear it just then.

<<Alright, do what you want. If you need anything or change your mind, call me. I’m heading out.>> With that, he opened their shared dorm door and closed it behind him.

 

---

 

Andrew was on the roof, sitting on the ledge, taking long drags from his cigarette. The world below always seemed so small and insignificant compared to the vast night sky above. That night, the stars shone brighter than ever and the full moon glowed. His gaze was fixed on it, almost spellbound.

Nights like these were when silence was his best friend. Andrew didn’t need anyone. He was his own anchor, his own steady point. Only he carried the weight of his pain, only he knew how to manage it. That kind of comforting solitude where it’s just you and your conscience. If you don’t trust, you don’t suffer in the first place. If you’re always on guard, no one can catch you off balance.

He could feel the alcohol rushing through his veins. The illusion of control, when secretly what he wanted most was to lose it—even for a second. His weapon against everything had always been indifference, but the truth was, it was all a lie. He cared too much. So much that he buried his pain, shoved it aside, ignored it. He cared too much for people who thought he was a “monster,” and the worst part was he couldn’t even blame them. He hated himself. Hated himself so much that sometimes he wanted to tear his own skin off. Everything he touched, he ruined.

He was terrified of anything good coming too close. He had never been worthy of anything and had learned not to want anything for himself. He couldn’t even play the victim in his own mind, because the blame was his. He had done this to himself. He didn’t even have the strength to fight for himself. If people saw him as a monster—fine. That’s what he was, and that’s what he’d be. After all, who could ever even think of loving something so unlovable? He was so tired of being himself.

Sip after sip, bottle after bottle. The pain never left. It was like a blade pressed into his chest, carving deeper until there was nothing left but an unfillable void. He had lost so much only to end up with nothing but the pitiful hope of what could have been.

He was nothing more than an object. Something people used when they had to, or looked for when they needed something. The only way he had ever received affection was by being useful. It had always been that way, since foster care. He could still feel the weight of those hands on his body without permission. Something taken by force, with no care. Something dirty, carved into his skin. Stifled cries, useless prayers, pleas ignored. The feeling of being stripped of something with such violence you couldn’t even breathe long enough to register the pain. And then you were left there. Thrown away like nothing. Like your worth was nothing more than being the object of someone’s perversions—someone who should have protected you. Even death would have been kinder.

But he would never flinch about it. He’d do it all again if it meant protecting Aaron. He could live with being the one carrying the weight, but he could never live with Aaron suffering the way he had. He would do anything to make sure that never happened.

The sudden creak of the rooftop door pulled him from his thoughts, but he didn’t move.

A voice he didn’t recognize spoke.

<<Sorry, didn’t think anyone was up here. I was looking for a quiet place to get away from the crowd. Do you mind if I stay?>>

Andrew said nothing. His head spun from all the alcohol, and it took him a few seconds before he managed to climb down from the ledge.

He walked toward the boy until the light revealed his face and—God, maybe it was the alcohol, but he could swear he almost fainted.

Neil Josten was standing in front of him. His eyes were even bluer than Andrew remembered. The moonlight highlighted his face, his rosy lips Andrew had once written about in his journal, his pale freckled skin—and… scars? Andrew didn’t remember ever seeing scars on his face. Maybe they were recent. But they didn’t make him any less… beautiful . He hadn’t grown much taller, but still, he was slightly taller than Andrew. 

Neil was here. Neil was standing in front of him, studying his face with that curious look. He remembered that look well—like Neil was trying to figure out what was going on behind his mask of indifference. It was so irritating.

Neil had that kind of ethereal beauty, too rare to belong to humans. Andrew wasn’t a man of faith, but he was convinced no living being should be worthy of such beauty. The kind you’d willingly go to hell for, no matter how slowly its flames reduced you to ashes, just to touch it with a fingertip. Neil had been his damnation from the first day their eyes met.

<<Neil?>>

<<Andrew…>>

<<Stop looking at me with those eyes.>> The familiar phrase slipped out before he could stop it.

<<I’m not doing anything.>> Neil’s tone was innocent, but his smirk said otherwise.

<<Sure. Still as irritating as I remembered.>>

<<You remembered me? Even after five years?>> Neil’s voice held a hopeful note, like he had feared the opposite.

 <<Kevin reminded me when he said you were coming. Don’t think you mean anything to me.>>
Unspoken: how could I ever forget you.

With that, Andrew looked away and sat back down on the ledge.

<<Drew, do you mind if I stay?>>

Andrew’s heart skipped hearing Neil say his name like that. So familiar, almost terrifying.

<<Do what you want.>>

After a few seconds, he felt the weight of someone sitting next to him. He didn’t dare brush against him, not even by accident. Instead, he lit another cigarette and stared at the sky in silence.

<<Do you smoke?>> he asked, without looking at him.

<<Not really, but I don’t mind. It reminds me of my mom.>>

Andrew lit another cigarette for him, and as he handed it over, his calloused fingers brushed against Neil’s soft ones, sending a shiver through him. He pulled back immediately.

They sat there smoking in silence. The only sound was the evening breeze shifting their hair. The silence between them was so comforting that neither dared to break it. The sound of their breaths was enough.

Neil was here. Neil was real. Neil was beside him. Neil was exactly as he remembered.
Neil. Neil. Neil. That was all he could think about.

Neil was the first to break the silence. He told Andrew about life in England and showed him how he had improved his British accent.

Andrew had nothing to say, but he listened. He listened in silence and with interest for at least an hour, noticing how Neil’s expression lit up slightly when he realized Andrew was actually paying attention. There was something soothing in his voice, something Andrew could’ve listened to for hours without ever feeling the need to interrupt.

While listening, his gaze drifted toward the sky, noticing how fascinating the moon looked. The night sky had always been his companion on sleepless nights.

At some point, when Neil stopped talking, Andrew broke the silence.

<<That constellation up there is called the Big Dipper,>> he traced it with his finger.

Neil, who hadn’t looked away from Andrew even for a second, finally looked up at the sky.
<<Are you into constellations?>>

<<Not really, but I like looking at the sky. I find it comforting.>>

<<What do you find comforting about it?>> Again, that curious look, as if he truly cared about Andrew’s answer. Andrew hated that look.

<<It reminds me that at the end of the day, we’re all under the same sky. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, your religion, ethnicity, or orientation—we all inevitably end up under the same sky, lit by the same moon. It reminds me that maybe, right now, someone in a situation like mine is also seeking comfort in the stars. It makes me feel less alone.>> He spoke slowly, like sharing something so intimate for the first time.

Neil nodded, as if the words had struck him somehow, and for a moment he too stared silently at the sky. Then, as Andrew had shown him, he tried to trace the constellation with his finger—but ended up drawing anything but the constellation.

Andrew watched him for a second before looking back up. <<Idiot.>>
He leaned closer, entering Neil’s personal space just slightly, careful not to touch him.

<<May I? Yes or no?>> he asked, motioning to Neil’s hand.

Neil stared at him for a few seconds, and Andrew could swear he heard his breath quicken.

<<Yes.>>

Andrew gently took his wrist, guiding it toward the sky and adjusting it so he could trace the constellation. <<There. Like that.>>
That simple contact felt like fire under Andrew’s skin, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He let go of Neil’s wrist with slight hesitation. <<Try it alone.>>

This time Neil traced the constellation perfectly.
<<Will you teach me more constellations?>>

<<Not today. That’s enough for today. It’s late, you should go to sleep.>> He couldn’t bear the tension for even a minute longer.

<<I don’t want to. I’m fine here.>>

<<I hate you.>> Why did he always have to be so stubborn? And why did he always have to push the limits of his patience so much?

<<I know. You used to tell me that five years ago, too.>> He said it with such a pure smile that it made him want to… hit him.

<<It’s not fair. You were supposed to be a fantasy, something unreal, caused by the meds…>> The words slipped out before he could realize what he had just said. Damn alcohol. Damn Neil.

That caught Neil’s attention, and he held his gaze. <<I’m not a hallucination.>>

<<You’re a pipe dream.>> Without giving Neil the chance to argue, he jumped down from the ledge, opened the door, and disappeared behind it as he left.

Notes:

Hii again!
So, this chapter was meant to be longer but since i'm currently in the middle of moving, i didn't have much to write.
Anyway, here we are, Neil and Andrew finally met again!!!
It was meant to be more angsty, but well, i guess some fluff was needed, I love them sm.
Also, can we please talk about my hc about Kevin listening to Britney Spears? it's so real come on.
Writing Andrew's pov is so painful and a bit too personal sometimes but I really hope I was able to stay in character as much as possible.
Let me know what you think.

Anyway, less talking.
I'm going on vacation for a week so next chapter is going to be published in two weeks, on September 6.
I'm also thinking about posting an extra short chapter from Kevin's pov about what happened at the party since I'm already having some ideas (yes, there's gonna be angst but also hurt/comfort).
That's it for today,
love, Elle.❤️

Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Andrew/Neil

Notes:

Hi everyone! I'm back finally :)
This chapter is double pov and there are a few expressions in french so i put a little vocabulary at the end.
I hope yall are doing great and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. (There's a lot of mutual pining!!!)

–Andrew–

Andrew stormed off the rooftop. He knew he had left Neil there without even giving him time to respond, but he feared Neil’s words more than anything else.
Since he was fifteen, he had always dreamed of Neil in one way or another—whether it was daydreaming or in his sleep. Neil had been his anchor, even in juvie, even under medication, even when he thought Neil was just a figment of his imagination.

But seeing him again, right there in front of him, made Andrew realize that repressed desire had never stopped burning. Andrew had changed, but his feelings had only grown with him. That smile, that way of carrying himself, those damn eyes that hid lies and secrets only Andrew could read like an open book, the deeper sound of his voice, and his skin—still soft despite the scars. Neil had changed too, but Andrew could swear the way he looked at him hadn’t.

The alcohol burned in his veins and in his throat. His vision blurred, his body swaying down the dorm hallway as memories came crashing in.

The afternoons spent with Neil after practice, when he only stayed with Neil because he “had nothing better to do.” The shared Coke cans, the laughter, the teasing, the autumn days chasing each other through dry leaves, the spring afternoons watching each other’s backs during games. The times their hands brushed by accident and Andrew’s stomach flipped. The looks. The journal. The hoodie. The last time he saw him. The hollow ache when he realized Neil wasn’t coming back.

He had always told himself he hated him. He did hate him. But deep down Andrew knew that wasn’t the truth. He had never really hated Neil. Kevin had been right—he only hated him because he was terrified. Terrified that Neil might feel what he felt.

He stumbled to his dorm door, shut it behind him, and collapsed onto the bed. His clothes felt too hot, so he hurriedly kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, left in only a tank top and pants as nausea rolled over him.

His head spun, thoughts slipping apart before he could catch them.
How dare Neil look at him like that? How dare he speak to him after five years as if nothing had changed?

But one question kept echoing in his head:
Why did you leave in the first place?

It was a cruel joke of fate. Rage filled him and he clutched the pillow to his chest with almost childish desperation. A person couldn’t make him feel so much and then disappear into nothing. It wasn’t fair. But Neil had never been his. Andrew had always known that, though a selfish part of his fifteen-year-old self had wanted it—had hoped, deep down, that maybe it could be true.

But Neil wasn’t something that could be kept. Neil was like a storm, a tornado—something that struck without warning and tore everything apart, but was destined to vanish. And yet, he was also the break of sunlight after the rain, the North Star that guided you through the darkest nights. Something so beautiful, so untouchable.

Andrew couldn’t let him back into his life so carelessly, not like before. He wouldn’t allow himself to fantasize again or let anything slip through. Tonight had already been too much. He had already crossed the line, but it was easier to blame the alcohol than admit how familiar and natural it still felt to talk to Neil.

He felt an emptiness gnaw at his insides, and though he was already on the verge of throwing up, he wished he had another bottle. It was as if he were trapped in some limbo between absolute bliss and the fear of depending on it—on something unknown to him. Because the very thought of being hurt again paralyzed him, but not enough to stop him from suffering in the first place.

The only way to avoid being hurt was to build the wall beforehand. Some might call it cowardice, but Andrew knew indifference was his only weapon against the world.

He lay staring silently at the ceiling until sleep finally took him.

---

The slam of the front door jolted him awake.
Kevin must have been back. Andrew sat up to check the time on the clock by his bed—it was four in the morning.

He let himself fall back, intent on going to sleep again, but Kevin walked straight into his room.

<<Andrew, can I stay here?>> His voice shook.
Andrew immediately noticed how pale he looked, like he was about to faint, like he had already thrown up multiple times. He knew that expression well. Kevin must have drunk as much as him, maybe worse.

<<Yes,>> Andrew replied simply, shifting over to make space on the bed.
Up close, he noticed the redness around Kevin’s eyes, like he had been crying, but didn’t say a word. He’d wait for Kevin to speak first.

They stayed in silence for a while until Kevin leaned against him, resting his face on Andrew’s shoulder, searching for comfort. Andrew let him.

<<Sometimes I miss mom, and I can’t stop thinking about how disappointed she would be if she saw me now. I’m a mess, and I feel so damn alone. When I was a kid, she was the one who protected me from everything, and ever since I lost her, all I’ve done is hide behind a mask, behind this stupid public persona I built for myself. I’m so used to smiling for the cameras and lying that I forget how fake it all is. This is me: an idiot who doesn’t know how to do anything but down one bottle after another and run from his own feelings.>>

Andrew listened in silence and gestured for him to go on. He could see the desperation on his face, and he knew all too well how much the memory of his mother haunted him.

<<My mom used to say this to me: ‘As long as I’m with you, you don’t have to be afraid, because I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.’ When she died, I wondered who would protect me from the monsters under my bed before I went to sleep. I still don’t have an answer. Dad was never the type to tuck me in.>> Kevin’s voice cracked and tears streaked down his face, no matter how many times he tried to wipe them away.

Andrew wasn’t the type to comfort people, but in that moment it felt natural to pull him close and let him cry against his shoulder.
<<Your mom could never be disappointed in you. She loved you more than anything. Just because you make mistakes, or push yourself to the edge and then hide from the world out of fear of what they’ll think—it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. Humans screw up, they destroy, they lie, they suffer. That’s what binds us, even if society pretends it’s not true. It doesn’t mean it’s right, but what is human never really is. Self-pity won’t help you face what’s in front of you.>>

Kevin nodded, then fell silent for a while. Andrew let him calm down, let him process. When Kevin’s breathing steadied, he spoke again.
<<You were right not to go to the party. The freshmen wouldn’t leave me alone and I couldn’t stand anyone anymore.>> He paused, then went on. <<Jean wasn’t there. And in a moment of madness, I knocked on his door. I was clearly drunk, and he ripped the bottle right out of my hands. He told me I clearly have a problem. He almost looked worried—if not for the disgust in his eyes. He hates when I drink.>>

<<I’d tell you he’s right, but that would make me a hypocrite.>> Andrew wasn’t in the position to lecture anyone.

<<I know… but that’s not the point. The point is, I hate what we’ve become. I hate looking back and knowing I ruined it. We fought again, and in that instant, it hit me all over again—how much I miss him. I miss his skin, the warmth of his touch that made me feel less alone. I miss talking for hours, knowing someone was really listening. I miss telling him the most ridiculous thoughts without fear of being judged. I miss holding him, knowing that hug was enough to keep me together. I even miss the French on his lips, the conversations full of subtleties only we understood. I miss everything about him… and knowing it’ll never go back to what it was tears me apart more than any wound.>>

<<Did you tell him that?>>

<<Of course not. That would be too selfish after everything that happened.>>

Andrew knew better than to comment on Kevin and Jean’s turbulent relationship.

<<Anyway, did you see Neil tonight?>> Kevin asked, trying to change the subject.

Andrew’s expression shifted instantly.
<<How do you know?>>

<<I told him where you were.>> Kevin’s smirk was satisfied. <<You can thank me later.>>

Andrew rolled over, hiding his face in the pillow.

<<That rabbit even had the nerve to pretend he ended up there by accident. Him and his damn lies. I used to spend days trying to read through them.>>

<<Maybe he just wanted to see you but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. One of the first things he asked me when he landed was about you. You’d be insane not to see the opportunity in front of you.>>

<<I hate him.>> Andrew’s growl was full of frustration.

<<You can’t run from your feelings forever.>>

The truth was, Andrew was afraid. Afraid of how easy it was to fall again, of how little it took to wake up that desire he had spent years suppressing. He was afraid of Neil—or rather, of what Neil made him feel. Afraid of ending up with nothing again, hollowed out by that same emptiness bearing his name, stretching inside him until it consumed him.

Five years hadn’t erased anything. They had only made it sharper, hungrier. And if Neil had come back just to leave again, Andrew knew there’d be nothing left of him to piece together. He didn’t want to admit it, but every step Neil took toward him was both a threat and a promise. And maybe that was the real problem. That Neil had come back. And that was enough for Andrew to want him still.

<<Says the hypocrite.>>

Kevin laughed, because he knew he couldn’t argue with that. Guilty as charged.

After a while, they both fell asleep side by side, the way they used to during sleepovers when they were kids.

---

-Neil-

Neil stood still on the rooftop, staring at the door he had just walked out of. His head was full of thoughts, but one in particular kept circling back. The gentleness with which Andrew had brushed his wrist sent shivers running down his spine.

He had definitely grown in the last five years—though not in height. His hands, so large, his grip strong yet careful with him, those golden eyes under the moonlight, pale skin and soft blond hair. That little smirk, the deep voice, the broad shoulders and the muscles of his arms in plain sight… everything about Andrew somehow caught Neil’s gaze and held his attention for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Neil had always known that looking at Andrew too long was dangerous. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself. Andrew’s hazel eyes had never been easy to define: they shifted with the light, shades of light brown and gold that seemed to change depending on who was looking. To Neil, though, they had always been an enigma, a sharp reflection of everything Andrew never said.

Those eyes pinned him in place, stripped him bare with a single glance, and Neil hated how easy it was to forget to breathe whenever they met his. There was a threat in them, sure, but also a promise—one Neil had never dared to fully unravel. Every time, he thought he glimpsed something deeper—an edge of vulnerability, a fragment no one else would ever see.

And he longed, against all reason, to touch that hidden part. He wished Andrew would let him brush against it, just for a moment. But he knew it was a thought he should never have.

He looked up at the sky one last time before deciding to head back to his dorm. He couldn’t understand why Andrew kept haunting his thoughts.

When he opened the door, he found Jean sprawled on the couch with a funereal expression. Neil decided not to ask questions and went straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water—one for Jean as well.

He set the glass on the table in front of him and was about to leave when Jean’s voice stopped him.

<<Merci, mais pourquoi tu restes là l’air bête? Thinking about something?>> he teased him playfully.

<<Je ne sais pas, I just… I was with Andrew. He showed me a constellation.>>

Jean laughed. <<Cute. Did you tell him you kept his hoodie?>>

<<No. Maybe tomorrow. But I swear it was so beautiful. The endless stars, the night breeze—it was perfect.>> Neil hoped he could spend another evening like that.

<<Who was beautiful? The sky or Andrew?>> Jean had that tone meant to tease.

Neil flushed slightly without even realizing it. <<The sky.>>

<<Sure,>> Jean said sarcastically.

Neil rolled his eyes. <<What about you? When I walked in you looked like you’d seen a ghost.>>

<<After Renee left, Kevin came by to talk. He was dead drunk.>> His expression and playful tone shifted instantly.

<<Didn’t you want to see him?>> Neil asked, curious.

<<I did. C’est ça le problème.>>

<<Pourquoi?>>

<<It doesn’t matter. Things with Kevin are complicated. I hate how much I actually want to see him. I hate how part of me is still so delusional that I want it.>> Jean’s gaze had gone dull.

<<Were you two… together?>> Neil didn’t want to pry, but he wanted to understand the situation, maybe even help.

<<Oh, hell no. We’re… we were… friends. He likes to say ‘ brothers’ whenever there are cameras around.>> A bitter, mocking laugh escaped his lips. <<We were never anything. We are and always will be nothing.>>

<<Would you have wanted you two to be something?>>

<<I stopped hoping for that many years ago.>>

<<Did you also stop wanting it?>>

Jean took a deep breath before replying.
<<No. I don’t think I ever could, to be honest. No matter how much time has turned my feelings into resentment.>>

<<Does Kevin know?>>

<<It doesn’t matter. It never did.>> His eyes were dark, fixed on the blank white wall.

Neil didn’t ask more—he didn’t want to upset him.

Jean added, “If I can give you some advice, don’t make my mistake. Don’t bury something that’s still alive, because then it’ll be too late to dig it up again. Life’s only one, remember that. Profite de l’instant. Carpe diem.” His voice carried a note of nostalgia and regret.

Neil wasn’t sure what exactly he was referring to, but he nodded. <<I’ll keep that in mind.>>

Jean sighed. <<I think I’ll watch a movie. I’m not in the mood to sleep. Want to join me?>>

Neil hesitated for a moment. <<Sure. What are we watching?>>

Jean shrugged. <<Whatever you want.>>

<<I don’t usually watch movies. Haven’t seen many… maybe one or two.>>

<<You’re kidding? Alright, I’ll choose.>> He thought for a moment. <<Have you ever seen Star Wars?>>

<<I have no idea what that is.>> Neil looked genuinely confused.

<<Perfect. We’ll fix that right away. It’s mine and Kevin’s favorite saga—we used to watch it together all the time. Totally worth it.>> A small smile found its way to his lips.

<<Alright.>> Neil smiled back.

 

French translations:

• Merci, mais pourquoi tu restes là l’air bête? = Thanks, but why are you standing there looking stupid?
• Je ne sais pas = I don’t know
• C’est ça le problème = that’s the problem
• Pourquoi = why?
• Profite de l’instant = seize the moment

Notes:

Hii again,
so...this chapter was intense. I won't hide it was both funny and heartbreaking to write and I put so much effort into it. We have andreil pining, kevjean angst, kevin angst...a bit of everything like a rollercoaster!
I love the trust between Kevin and Andrew and I love the friendship Neil and Jean are building. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and let me know what you guys think!

Thank you all for the support and i'll try to update next week.

Love, elle ❤️