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Chapter Text

The first thing Nathaniel notes after jolting awake is the lack of injury in his neck and legs, the second is his change of location. He was inside a moving car, but the last and most remarkable part was the presence of a mother who passed away 20 years ago beside him. 

His mom was steering the car. She looked beaten and fatigued. Dried mud adorned her clothes.

“Abram, focus. We will switch at the next gas station.” She drew a deep breath. "Are you listening?” He nodded.

This was surreal. Just moments ago, he battled against a man suffocating him after sustaining two bullets to the legs from a sniper. He should be in agony, a hallucination, perhaps. Nathaniel would expect his last dream before death to be about Andrew, or the foxes. He hardly expects the appearance of Mom after he lets her memory rest in peace.

Death should have been his sweet release. After avenging Andrew, nothing else matters. He just got the consequences of his actions.

“Abram, focus!” A fist yanked his hair. “Pull yourself together. We don't have time for this,” mom hissed.

“They are still on our tail. Hurry, buy food for the road,” she pushed him out of the car while probing inside the bag.

It felt real. Nathaniel clutched the change that mom handed him and wandered inside the gas station, a bit too solid for a dream. He gathered some cans and water, then he detected another difference: his arms were bare, no burns or scars. A quick touch of his face confirmed the lack of other defining scars. This is his younger self; somehow he returned in time.

The prospect of going back in time delights him. He can do better, he can save Andrew and help Kevin, even Jean deserves a better fate than what he received.

But first, maybe he could save his mom, happily go back to the car with food.

SLAP.

The first thing that welcomed him in the car was his mother's heavy hand.

“Too slow, drive to San José,” she demanded. He was in a daze, more from not being able to avoid the blow than being slapped. The odd feeling of fear still overwhelmed him.

As Nathaniel started driving, he sought to settle all the new emotions in his head. He shouldn't be scared of his mother, he dealt with the Moriyamas, challenged other crime organizations, manipulated the FBI for his goals. This was nothing to him, even though he felt panic. The loss of his fighting and mental skill was alarming. He should have seen the slap coming from miles away.

He should be better than this.

Not only that, but he didn't suffer all the mob training to return to square one.

“Abram. Abram, are you ok?” His mother shook his head, distracting him from the dark thoughts, seemingly noticing him not saying a word since he woke up.

“I'm fine.” He winces. “Just tired, maybe a little dehydrated.” He was being cross about the slap. His mother heard it in his tone.

“I'm sorry I hit you.” A hand caressed his cheek. Her apology wasn't sincere, never was. “But we can't afford to delay. Let's put at least one state between us and your father's men, ok?” She helped him drink from the water battle and tried to smooch his collar. “Try to stay focused. I will catch some sleep.”

Mother ruffled his hair affectionately and attempted to settle more conformably in the passenger seat, pushing it down.

The drive to San Jose was silent. Nathaniel gathered the known information.

First, his mother was alive, so he was not eighteen yet.

Second, they are in California, mother's original time of death may be just around the corner,

Third, he was mistaken, he was not Nathaniel, who became Moriyama's hit man and then traitor, with no fear or any self reservation. He was scared of his mother's approaching demise, his father's men, of dying, and many other fears Nathaniel has long overcome.

He was Abram, a young boy who received some memories from the future, or he just lost his mind. A more reasonable theory than time travel.

Abram breathed out slowly. Even when he's having a psychotic break, he still can't imagine a happy ending. What a mess of a person he was.

Fourth, he needs to forget all about this regressing nonsense. He would not meet Kevin Day, fall in love, play Exy, or find a place to call his own, but his mother will be alive, mom will be fine.

After four hours of driving, mom woke up. She still looked drained, yet to change from her filthy clothes.

“Where are we?” she asked, shifting the car seat back up.

“An hour away from San Jose,” Abram replied. “Mom, maybe sleep more. I can keep going.”

“No, we need to plan. We are not safe there.“ Mom took out her binder and opened it. “I have a contact in San Francisco. He can make us new IDs” she confirms, “But he is not the most trustworthy, better than nothing,” she sighs.

Abram wanted to take some of her burden. “We can try someone else, maybe. I can keep driving, not stopping… and …“ he has nothing to suggest.

“No.” mom interrupted him, "we will get a hostel, sleep, and then rush to San Francisco. Fine?” mom pressed, closing the binder with the final tone.

“I just want to help.” Abram tried to oppose. She gripped his neck, pulling hair.

“Fine?” she demanded.

“… Yes” he responded, his voice sounding small.

Their stay in San Jose ended without a fuss, so did the trip to San Francisco. Mom drove the car. He still felt confused with all the memories from his “future self”. Sleep didn't solve that. He wasn't sure if it would be better to forget everything or try to organize it.

“The name of the contact is Ilya Kolisnishanko. He is an ex-Bratva man,” Mom explained. ”I will go inside and pick up all the needed documents. You will hide in the car, gun ready.”

“Ok.”

Mom smoothed his hair one last time before she went out.

Abram was tense. The place looked familiar, an old building in a back alley with Russian graffiti. 'Вот крыса’  was written on the block. His mind unconsciously translated it to 'Here a rat'.

Oh, since when had he learned Russian? Abram seemed uncertain. The memories in his head shuffled.

Maybe he picked it up when they settled in the Czech Republic.

After twenty minutes, Abram started to sweat. Normally, it takes purely a couple of minutes to set an order for IDs, then one day waiting for picking up. He cocked his gun and removed the safety pin. Something felt suspicious, a bit too quiet. He slowly went out and hid behind the car's hood. Mom stormed out of the building, gripping the sides of her stomach, a man with a knife chasing her. Abram recognized him, Charles, one of his father's men. He aimed at his head, but Charles was too close to mom to risk it. Mom struggled, attempting to overtake Charles. She changed her angle. Abram finally had a clean shot to the brain. Bull's eye. 

Charles's body collapsed to the ground. Mom limped to the car. He opened the car doors. The blast probably alerted the authorities. They didn't bother to check Charles' body.

“It was a trap, Nathan spreading his people across all my west California contacts. We will rush straight to Nevada”. She lay down in the back seat, taking out bandages and alcohol, seemingly planning to treat herself while they were driving.

“How do you know?” he asked

“Charles had a big mouth”

“Or he was bluffing,”

“No… he has more muscles than brain, always goes for intimidation rather than manipulation”, she pondered, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle.

“Could be a first. He maybe hopes we exhaust ourselves by over driving.”

But mom did not look convinced. She commanded him to be quiet and keep driving, so to Nevada they were going. He couldn’t check her from the front seat, but by the sound of her grumbling, mom was 'fine', meaning she was hurt but could keep going.

Their regular policy for meeting Nathan's men was one person operating the vehicle while the other slept in the car, breaks only for the bathroom and gas until they crossed the state line.

She finished dressing the stab wound. Luckily, no stitches were needed this time. Mom looked even more stressed than usual and kept searching the backpacks for something more. She turned the bags all over the back seat, frantically digging through the mess until she found some sealed package.

“This is the last fake ID we have”, she sighed, “it will have to do.” She reassured herself more than him.

Mom was always transparent about their issues and struggles, so Abram knew how fucked up they were every time they messed up. No one they trusted was in Nevada, they would need to keep moving to Utah for extra IDs or take a risk with a flight.

They can't blow their covers.

“Your new name is Neil Josten, my name is Amanda Josten”. Abram felt a sense of déjà vu.

The dread feeling kept increasing in his mind. In the 'other him' memories, this name appeared right before his mom's death, but he was only sixteen, he should have another year. Dread swelled in his guts. His fists clenched the steering wheel; breath became fast, head spun. He couldn't lose Mom. He wasn’t ready, he was so not ready.

Sharp pain snapped him from his panic spiral. Mother pinched his right hand.

“Neil, focus. We don't have time for your whining,” she already switched to the new names.

She pinched his neck to send the message. Neil despised when she did that. He knew there were proper ways to deal with panic, then pushed it out with pain.

She kept chatting with him using the new name for hours. Mother talked about their plans, where to obtain more ammo, where to run to throw the tail. Each time he delayed reacting to Neil, she pinched his neck or yanked his hair. Generally, he would become more reserved with this treatment, but this time he felt resentment and irritation building up.

“Maybe you let me drive in peace, Amanda,” he snapped. ”Neil this and Neil that,” he imitated her. "I got this".

He immediately regretted this because mother yanked back one of his hands from the wheel and bent the fingers to an uncomfortable degree.

How they never got into accidents was beyond him.

“Listen to me, child, and listen carefully,” she hissed into his ear. ”We don't have time for you acting like a spoiled brat”.

Because not being in pain is apparently a privilege.

“I will not tolerate this behavior,” she punctuated each word through her teeth. “You either stop whatever this is or I make you.”

Meaning she would switch to fists, as this was how you were supposed to react to a son being a little cheeky.

Neil paused for a second, realizing he was often not this difficult. He probably needed to cut his mother some slack. She was nursing a stab wound, for god's sake. This was not how he usually acted.

“I'm sorry…, I just—”

“Drop it.” Mother burst into his words, ”Next gas station we stay for a talk and switch places. “

Looked like he was not getting out of a beating. Just his luck to find courage when his mother was on edge.

But she was always on edge and never had time to do anything that was not full compliance, a small voice muttered in his head.

They stopped at the gas station. It looked familiar, but they all resemble each other. Still, he felt frightened. No other visible car was in the station.

It seemed too quiet. Mother didn't look alarmed, not more than usual. Maybe he let the paranoia play with his head again.

They entered the shop. The store looked empty.

“Hello, darling, what a surprise to meet you here,” a sickly sweet female voice was heard. Both he and his mother moved to battle position, back to back, holding their weapons. Neil had a gun, mother held an Army fixed blade knife.

“You should stop being sooo, predictable, Mary”, Lola Malcom taunted. She appeared from the counter holding a fucking machete.

Neil watched out for her brother. Lola never hunted alone. “Some may say you are getting rusty. Who stops at the first gas station after encountering our little gift? You know, once a Russian rat, always a rat,” she said while lazily approaching them, still no Romero.

“Looks like you’re still doing Nathan's bidding, wiggling your tail like the bitch you are, hoping one day he will screw you,” mother baited her, pushing the knife upfront.

“Or maybe you are already enjoying my leftovers”, mother snickered. Lola despised when people assumed she was sleeping with Nathan, that she didn't become his number two because of her abilities.

Yikes, but still no Romero. Neil cocked his gun.

“Jealous that I got my position with talent rather than opening my legs in the air like you?” Lola fired back, stooping just shy away from stabbable distance.

Neil would appreciate being excluded from this conversation. Now he feels more revulsion than dread, and there is still no Romero. Why can't they argue like the mobsters they are, rather than this embarrassment?

“Can we not talk about where Nathan does or does not put his penis?” Neil requested. Not his finest idea, bringing all attention to him.

Oh Romero, Romero, wherefore art thou, Romero? A voice that sounded like Andrew Minyard buzzed in his head.

“Junior, what a sight, looking more and more like daddy. We just need to bathe you in your mother's blood, and you’ll be just per-r-r-r-fect”, Lola practically purred. ”Maybe we even add a couple of fresh scars for aesthetics." She gestured at his cheeks, since Nathan had a distinct scar there.

“Over my dead body. Touch him, and I will carve your face like a pumpkin,” Mother threatened.

“I can arrange this.“

“Your face?”

“No, your dead body”, Lola confirmed. “Daddy will be soooo delighted”, she addressed Neil, emphasizing 'Daddy' in a mocking tone.

Mother looked fed up with Lola’s bullshit and was ready to rip her face like she promised.

An iron pipe smashed between him and his mother from the back. They jumped in different directions.

Here Romero, the silent partner of the Malcolm duo. Romero tried knocking his mother with the pipe. She dodged, and then Lola brandished the machete, following mother's movement. Mother blocked it using her blade.

Neil shot. If Romero had been hit, it didn't slow him down. Romero advanced toward Neil, ready to strike.

Mother and Lola engaged in a knife fight. Lola had the upper hand with the longer blade, and more and more blood stains started showing through mother's ripped clothes.

Neil avoided the first swing from Romero, but the second caught his left arm, a sharp pain spiking the entire length of his forearm. Not broken, maybe crooked. Neil ignored it with gritted teeth and fired again.

Another miss. He heard Lola exhaling in agony. He hoped he hit her, at least. Neil didn't have time to find out what was going on with his mother and Lola.

Romero struck Neil's leg next. He crumpled under his weight, and numbness started replacing the pain.

Neil realized he didn’t have a way to fend off Romero's next attack. He shut blindly as the last resolve.

Blank.

‘Fuck.’

He forgot to count his bullets.

He ran out of bullets.

He moved his hands to shield his head. Better a broken hand than a concussion.

Mother showed up, hopping on Romero's back, and started repeatedly stabbing his back. Unfortunately, her knife was too short to reach Romero's lungs. Romero struggled to throw her off, mindlessly swinging the pipe back and forth. She dropped down, blade still sticking from Romero's back.

Neil hurled the empty gun, directly hitting Romero's nose, blood dripping all over his face and shirt.

This gave mother enough space to punch Romero's head with her pretty nasty right hook. Romero crashed down.

Mother collapsed. Her breathing was quiet but steady. She looked horrible, but Neil didn't have a chance to check all her injuries.

He checked Lola; he injured her machete-holding-shoulder. She looked passed out but regrettably alive. Better to not fret over this.

He carried his mother toward the car, his right leg still tingling and his hand numb.

Mother regained consciousness somewhere along the way, which sped up their departure.

They truly had more luck than brains on this one. Luck that only Lola and Romero found them, that they didn't call reinforcement, and Neil's highly lucky shot.

They wouldn’t have this much luck next time.

Mother reached for the driver’s seat.

“We are going to drive back to California”, she set forth, not bothering to address any of her injuries.

“Mom—”, he couldn't stay furious at her after all of this. ”You need stitches”. Neil knew how Lola fought. Mom probably had numerous deep cuts.

“We don't have time for this”, she cut him off, a very typical mom's response. They kept driving in silence.

Neil was not dumb. Even though he couldn't see her injuries, the state of her clothes hinted she lost too much blood.

“Mom, at least let me try to stop the bleeding, maybe stitch the more serious cuts”, Neil begged. He shifted part of the ripped blouse to examine the state of her arms more clearly. Stitching while driving was poor practice, but better than nothing.

“We will look too suspicious”, she slapped his palms away,” We’ll be pulled-over”.

“Your clothes are bloodied, I look as if I lost a fight, can we be any more suspicious?” he argued back. "You need to survive, I can't do this without you,“ he said, voice trembling. He tried to aid her again.

“Don't touch me”, she chased out his hands again. Neil froze in place and avoided looking at her.

"There there”, mom patted him clumsily, not looking at him. She winced slightly, “We can swap in Las Vegas, and later I will take care of my wounds”, she promised him, steering the wheel.

She lied.

They switched in Las Vegas. Mom didn't even bother to pretend she was not slowly bleeding out. She put an ointment on his bruises while driving. Mom consistently put his well-being before hers.

Neil realized they didn’t have a way to fix her. Mom had some medical connection for emergencies, but they were few and far between, no one in California.

She made him recite all her rules.

Whom he could contact, where they buried the money, brief guide to street brawls, and lastly, how to get rid of a dead body.

Her speech grew weaker and slurred.

Neil held himself together by not thinking about how mom was dying next to him.

He was driving.

He was one with the car.

He was merely a vessel to get from point A to B.

Ignorance is bliss until reality strikes you like a bullet through the heart.

Mary Hatfort died near a nice Californian coast. Not in rest, and clearly not in peace.

Chapter Text

Neil collapsed from exhaustion in Healdsburg, a small town near the ocean. It was just him and his duffle bag against the world from now on.

He undoubtedly dozed no more than three hours a day in the past two weeks after his mom's “funeral”, having stopped solely to schedule panic attacks and vomiting. Neil hoped that his irregular running around and lack of any planning would blow away any chance of tracking by the butcher's men.

In the last town, he found by chance a flier about a church charity event for supporting the elderly in exchange for free housing. This gave him an idea, and a small plan formed in his mind.

After a proper shower and fresh clothes, he could impersonate a good Christian youth. Neil will claim that he is Czech, and he is on some made up Czech holiday break. Therefore, hopefully they’ll overlook the dark circles around his eyes and dead looks, they’re from jet-lag, not from witnessing the death of his last strand of sanity.

Now he is Stephen, who loves helping the elderly because of Jesus.

Neil, no ... Stephen is totally fine.

This is fine.

Stephen is one of his previous aliases. Crime was not committed while being Stephen, so he should pass the security check.

The town doesn't have access to detailed information about foreign residents, so no one will ask why Stephen never officially landed in America.

Neil… no, Abram... No, Stephen. Yes, he is Stephen now.

They paired Stephen with a nice old woman with mobility issues. Her name is Alice. All her children left the town searching for financial security. Stephen could dig it. Alice detests going outside, but still wants to be connected to the community. She has a small duplex with a garden.

He will get free room and food in her home; in exchange, he will be responsible for all the chores.

Shopping, taking care of the house, taking Alice to the doctor, entertaining Alice, chatting with people for her, all the fun of babysitting.

When his supposedly fake vacation break will end, he will announce that he had such a connection with Alice that he is reluctant to part with her, so his family let him continue his education online.

This sounded like a solid plan. He just needed to play the 'Completely normal, not traumatized, Jesus-loving teenager' part, and it all will be fine.

Yes, Stephen is on the right track.

He is fine.

All was not fine.

He needed to socialize, be nice to the neighbors, charm the town sheriff and other townsfolk, and be such a helpful guy.

But no.

Stephen shut himself in the bathroom, hyperventilating. The reflection in the mirror didn't help. He covered the mirror with a towel.

He studied his hands for traces of blood. No way mom's blood would wash out so easily, he definitely missed some spots. The feeling of her limp body lingered in his memory. Stephen yanked his hair hard, like mom used to do. He didn't have time for this. He needed to pull himself together. Mom was not here anymore.

He would get all his shit together, gather all the shit, together, and push it down to the back of his mind. He pinched his hand for good measure. Maybe mom knew what she was doing with the panic attacks.

Stephen managed to calm down. He chatted with the townspeople, played nicely with Alice, went to Church to praise the Lord. Summer had just begun.

He didn't think about how his mother's last words were to trust no one. Every day, he rose at six in the morning and passed out to sleep only after exhausting himself around one or two o'clock in the morning.

Every day, Stephen fixed Alice's stuff, fixed her food, and tried to fix himself. Stephen helped the neighborhood with safety patrol, completed the housework, trimmed the garden, and ran laps around the town. He visited the neighbors for Alice. She loved when he brought gossip.

Alice asked about his family, he lied When she tried to pry more, he changed the topic.

He shoved down the image of traveling with mom's dead body for six hours. She looked like she was sleeping if you ignored the smell. The reflection in the shower scared him.

He duct-taped a cloth to the mirror to hide it.

Stephen rearranged all the new 'other Nathaniel' memories. Some of his and the 'other' childhood recollections differ a bit. Some scars were different, Nathaniel's mother was more at odds with her family; however, Stephen occasionally received letters and presents from Uncle Stuart.

Nathaniel never met the second Moriyama's branch until he was ten and the main branch before nineteen. He, on the other hand, met all of them before at Nathan's cocktail parties.

Obviously, his mother's time of death was quicker than Nathaniel's mom.

His butcher's heir education was more in-depth than Nathaniel's.

But all these changes hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things, so Stephen chalked it up mostly to the uncertainty of timelines. Stephen resolved not to blindly trust Nathaniel's future memories; he would still need to cross-examine any major events.

Nathaniel was a kingpin before his death. He didn't depend on technology or other people to keep his classified information secure, concluding that everything could be hacked except his own mind. He memorized names, telephone numbers, locations, and blackmail materials. Nathaniel used a memory technique named 'Memory palace'. Who could predict watching TV shows could be useful?

Stephen had easy access to all of Nathaniel's 'How to be a crime lord' intelligence and a chunk of forthcoming internet memes and pop culture.

Should he be concerned for his alternate self, or himself that the memes surprised him and not the organized crime operations?

Stephen started writing about everything. He didn't know how long he could maintain the other memories.

He recorded names, numbers, basic timelines for different crime organizations, and all about the Moriyamas.

Every day, he added more; about the Foxes, Ravens, Exy, future partners in crime, passwords, and times of death. He randomly shifted the language of the notes.

Stephan proceeded to help Alice, he did fitness, he opened an account on a freelance translator site, he picked up basic hacking, he plotted the next two years, he checked that the Foxes exist, he investigated Kevin, he read about self therapy.

The neighborhood set out on a mission to feed him. Every time he visited them, he came back with free food, or was obliged to eat lunch. He vomited everything when he got back to his room.

He ignored the nightmares of his mother burning in the car. He spent all of their gasoline for the fire.

He can still smell it: fuel, pork, and blood. He scrubbed his palms again and again.

Stephen made some money through a translation job. He worked on his combat skills. Some girls asked him to drink coffee together, but he declined.

He had too much spare time; he added more tasks to his schedule. He stared awake at night, wondering if the shadows at the window were Nathan's men, ready to slaughter him.

He started practicing for Exy, he knew he loved it; he was too drained to practice excitement. He learned simple bash programming. Alice assumed this was for school, and people praised him for being an earnest student. They urged him to loosen up a little; they told him he looked too tense. Stephen pretended he was sleeping in on Saturdays, so everyone could stop getting on his case. He instead brought programming books to bed, disregarding the intense feeling of vulnerability from staying in the quiet room.

Before long, autumn had started. It delighted Alice that he was staying, but she was concerned that his family let him. He reassured Alice everything was fine.

He could almost forget about his mother's stuff, still in the bag's bottom, but he needed some kind of memorial to remember her by. At night, he traced her face from the Amanda Josten ID, her Army knife still untouched in the bag. Maybe it was time to stop being terrified of knives. The rainy season was coming; he would have more indoor time to sneak out. He ignored his trembling hands.

Stephen rewrote all his data in New Ithkuil, a language that will be created in 2009. Let’s see who can decipher this . 

He burned all previous notes. He purchased a secondhand laptop and set up programs for his plans. He drafted and changed strategies for the future. Whenever invited to hang-out, he repeatedly refused.

He slept on the floor under his bed. The shadows wouldn’t disturb him here, though every so often, he imagined he heard a loaded gun.

He jogged and pushed his body. The rain couldn’t stop him. The town sheriff invited him to a self-defense class. Stephen compiled because he was too fatigued to be anxious or ask why the sheriff suggested it. The class consisted of too many breaks for his taste, but he chose to tolerate this to avoid attracting attention. So he kept going. People tried to small-talk with him, but he was too busy for that.

After Alice went to sleep, he went to the nearby forest and practiced throwing knives. The shadows stalked him, and he didn't know if the shiver in his spine came from cold or fear.

Stephen felt burnt out. This was the most relaxing and threat-free time he ever experienced.

Mother's voice reminded him it's the calm before the storm, so he stayed alert. He wished to sleep, but sleep only ever brought visions of his mother. How the dried blood stuck her to the car seat. How slick her bones were in his palms when he pulled them from the burned car.

How rough the beach sand felt under his nails while digging her grave. The smell of death and ashes, the burnt skin, the ocean, the sand.

Stephen couldn't mark her grave, he could never revisit her.

She came out in his dreams, her body covering him like a shield, like a heavy weight crushing him.

The town was decorated for Halloween. Stephen felt nausea and fatigue. Alice needed him to stay up and hand out the sweets. Children came as monsters, knocking on the door, every knock startling him.

Maybe one time it would be the butcher's men coming for his blood.

They only took the candy.

Local teenagers called him to go to their parties, but he was too occupied for this. He fell asleep on the floor and woke up with a thick blanket.

It was not his.

Halloween passed.

In his dreams, his mother whispered how staying so long in one place is dangerous. She was a heavy choker made from chains on his neck. He told her about the other Nathaniel who outlived his father, the butcher's men, Riko Moriyama, his loved one, all Moriyama organizations while staying.

Mother laughed, “Yet he still died miserable”.

The choker tightened, he was barely breathing. The chains rattled, like her voice, singing for pain and survival.

“I'm miserable while living”, he reasoned, tearing the chains on his neck, his heart stinging. He craved what Nathaniel had. He should have it. The chains collapsed, chanting about disobedience and death.

“I died for you, you must survive, you must run, you must hide”, they echoed. They felt like her hands; protective but painful.

“I hate this,” he wailed at her, “I don't want to die in an unmarked grave like you. I want to be remembered.”

Nathaniel maybe lost his way for vengeance, but he also found one, a way to live and not simply survive. He could be satisfied with a fraction of what Nathaniel had.

The chains collapsed, the choker loosened. Mother let him go.

“I love you, I love you, I miss you”, he raged at the shattered collar, his mother silent, “I hate being like you. Thank you, thank you for—” she didn’t answer him anymore, the chains broken on the floor.

He woke up from his nightmare alone, face wet. Even in his dreams, mother never told him she loved him back. She only held him tight.

Sleep had yet to bring him rest.

Stephen realized he needed to change something. His muscles ached, his head spun, his legs trembled, his stomach cramped.

Every day, he felt weaker and meeker. He struggled to fall asleep in the bed. His heart was too loud, the butcher would hear him, so he stared at the ceiling until dawn just in case.

Alice asked him to sit with her in the morning. They ate breakfast together; she talked, he listened. He missed his morning run.

She spotted the abandoned therapy books in his room and asked him to read to her. She was always interested in this topic. He started missing the nightly knife practice.

Alice started organizing tea parties at her house.

People constantly hindered his studies. They wanted him to join and pulled him in. Not only that, but they conversed about how family is not only blood, how sometimes only blood connects family. Stephen filtered their remarks. It was such an odd topic for a party.

Occasionally, they discussed burnout and depression, and how to manage them. He considered some of the advice could be useful for him.

Alice's meddling began to feel a little bit on the nose.

Soon it was Thanksgiving; he informed them he was flying to visit his family. Stephen was traveling to take back the rest of his mother's money. At the hostel near the airport, he put on his mother's clothes, put his hair in a ponytail, and practiced make-up until he looked like Amanda Josten's picture in the passport.

He let himself relax only after he gathered all the cash and came back to Healdsburg.

Alice and her friends welcomed him back. A table full of food and refreshments waited for him. They were completely babying him; Thanksgiving Day had passed a day ago.

He chewed, the turkey was soft, almost melting in his mouth; they cut plenty of fruit for him, and he felt a little better.

No one asked about his family.

He stashed the cash in his bag; he felt secured. He fell asleep without dreaming that night.

Stephen began greeting people in the morning. They all smiled like he hung the sun in the sky. Alice discovered a better way to deal with panic attacks rather than pain. She tried to make him believe he was the one who found the book 'Guide to panic attacks'. The one that appeared mysteriously in his room and wasn't part of his collection. He let her think he had been fooled.

He slept on the bed that night. Mother was not in his dreams.

He ran less and rested more. Mother let him sleep. Sometimes he still felt her breath next to his ear, advising him against being overly comfortable. He switched back to sleeping on the floor under the bed, couldn't be too cautious.

Alice proposed they bake together. She couldn't move much so Stephan did most of the work.

The cake looked terrible but was tasty, though the cupcakes were better, and they baked all day. The kitchen looked covered in snow, one of the flour sacks tore when he took it off the top shelf. Alice invited the entire neighborhood to feast on the monstrous pastries.

Everyone praised their creation, even though Stephen put salt instead of sugar in one batch to test their pleasantness. Maybe he should create more and more inedible cuisine to see how far it could go before someone stopped him from poisoning the population.

Perhaps not. They were too nice. They all helped clean the kitchen at the end.

Stephen started the process of making Neil Josten a real boy. He decided to make the Josten family a homeless one. This will explain the lack of information, just a single unmarried poor mother with a child, trying to survive the harsh capitalist world. He hacked different homeless shelters with poor security systems, making it look like the Jostens constantly moved around. He included some comments from the shelter caretakers about a sickly mother and her hyperactive kid.

After some thought, he added that the child liked playing Exy, but had never been in an official league.

Stephen found a dementia patient in a governmental nursing home. He added the Jostens as her next of kin. An extra family that couldn’t contradict his existence would do marvelously to his credibility.

This wouldn't hold water against a proper investigation, but would maybe keep Riko out of his hair for some time.

Christmas Eve came, and the party came to them.

Alice's friends and neighbors dined and drank, bringing the holiday spirit to the house.

“Stephen, come join us”, Alice patted the spot next to her. “I won't take No for an answer.” He reluctantly sat.

“Listen love …” she hesitated, and Stephen recalled every instance he acted skeptically in her presence. His heart beat fast and palms were sweaty.

“Relax”, she reassured him. Stephen was not reassured.

“You know you don't have to return to your family”, that was not the direction he expected the conversation to go, ”Sometimes you can love someone dearly and still not want them in your life. Sometimes you can miss a time and never wish to relieve it”, she looked serious.

“You never talk to them or about them”, she explained to his confused face.

Oh, he did fail to pretend to have a family.

“Also, you look depressed as fuck”, Alice's friend Veronica joined in, ignoring the others’ irritated stares.

“I'm not depressed”, he stated. More likely PTSD and grief, sparkled with paranoia on top. Nothing he could reveal in front of them, not unless everyone got really cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly.

“I never said you were, but this is exactly what a depressed person would say,” she shrugged.

“God, Veronica, you can't tell people they are depressed”, Alice voiced. Stephen was more amused than offended by her.

“No, I'm fine, really”, he tried to appease them. “My mom…. She really tried. She tried to be the best mom she could", he saw in their eyes that they figured out this wasn't a compliment, but also not quite a complaint.

“Just drink the wine and let this old lady tell you about the time I almost smashed our sheriff with a badly secured piano”, Veronica launched into the story. The sheriff, named Tony, joined to include his perspective.

It seemed like the pep talk was over, but Alice and Veronica carried on feeding him and not letting him be too alone.

The next morning, he got an Exy racquet as a Christmas present. Tony informed him it was troubling to watch Stephen struggle with the old and worn racquet, so they all pitched in to buy him a new one. Stephen didn't know what to call the unfamiliar feeling in his gut. It was warm. 

He played Exy all Christmas break, allowing himself some small talk with people after self-defense class. 

On Valentine's Day, his chocolate cupcakes not simply looked great, but likewise were poison free.

Sleep came more easily by that point. He still slept under the bed, but the shadows left him alone.

On St. Patrick's Day, he let the ladies paint him green for his jog, and in the evening they moved the tea party to the garden that looked like a leprechaun or two were butchered there. The tea was green. Mother, as a British person, would be mortified, but it suited this town.

On Easter he agreed to play treasure hunt with the local kids. His chest felt lighter, heart excited, muscles stretching. He was faster than anybody else, the sunlight felt tender, but he lost because he forgot to collect the eggs.

Stephen felt content next to Alice. She never sought to pry more than he was ready to reveal. She never tried to physically comfort him, and noticed early his flinching from touch. She never directly told him she wanted to help, but nevertheless they went through self-help books like there was no tomorrow. And in Stephen's mind, they very well might be. She encouraged him to find hobbies to distract him from intrusive thoughts. Stephen baked and cooked, he sang, had a more balanced work schedule, he could relax under the sun, the shadows couldn't touch him. Maybe Neil Josten would even inherit some of Stephen's habits.

He felt almost peaceful here. He could imagine in some other life becoming Alice's unofficial grandchild, but as the saying goes, all good things gotta end. At the end of May, he realized it was time to move on. He never learned how to properly say goodbye, so he left Alice a note and ran away in the middle of the night, like a coward.

On the bus, he left Stephen behind and became Neil again.

Chapter Text

Neil's plan was simple:he would wear drag, infiltrate the Italian intelligence broker, pretend to be an agent returning from a mission, and obtain a new fake ID that couldn't be traced back to him, maybe learn a bit of recent information, and lastly, run far away before anyone could ask questions. 

Yeah, easy-peasy lemon squeezy.

Neil sighed. 

He really wished he could get around not posing as a woman for this. 

Unfortunately, there was no way he could make himself look older than eighteen as a man, and no one would believe he was a real agent at such a young age. So, a woman he would be. With the magic of make-up, he could pass as almost 27 years old. Being a woman revealed to be hard and costly. The social expectations that came with womanhood required him to look well-kept if he'd rather not attract suspicion. Neil had to purchase nice clothes using actual money, go to an actual barber and color his hair with a nice light-caramel tone, buy good make-up, again with real money, and shave. Neil didn't know why everything intended for a woman was so expensive, why a push-up bra cost $60  while his entire male wardrobe cost less.

He felt ready to continue with his plan. He was presentable, or at least no one pointed and mocked him in the street. Neil locked his bag in the airport lockers with his own lock, not planning to spend more time than necessary in this place.

The main reason he chose the Italian mafia, the Bonannos, was Nathaniel's knowledge of their inner workings and their sheer size, making the surveillance much more lax in their chains.

It was easy to calculate the secret password by the color of the security guard's socks, and the current month's birthstone. On the surface this was a jewelry company branch, so when he asked for a tiara made from green pearl, they led him to a passageway behind the counter. The door locked behind him, and Neil mentally prepared himself to play the part of a secret agent in between missions. He needed to act cocky, well-adjusted, and fearless.

The person on the other front granted him a lengthy look. Neil hoped he noticed nothing out of place, Neil gave his appearance his best shot, but it could not always be sufficient.

The guy was on the chunky side, around 40 years old, not in good shape. Neil concluded he would be safe as long as he was not too close to the counter. He likewise could easily outrun the man if needed.

“So… what’s a gal like you doing in a place like this?” the man asked, lazily gesturing to all of Neil with his open hand. 'What an odd question to ask,' Neil wondered. Is it some code he forgot?

“My job, obviously”, Neil responded with a huff, faking his confidence. This man was nothing like Nathan—he will not fear him just because of his age. Unfortunately, his body didn't get the memo and continued being tense.

“Do others show up here for something else?” Neil sought warily. He was pretty sure this was the information branch and not the 'homicide' or 'torture' business.

“You are a funny one”, the man chuckled and leaned closer. Neil tried not to bolt, the man was just a couple of centimeters closer, and it would be too fishy if he left now.

“Just make me IDs for Amanda Klun.” The less he interacted with the man, the less likely he would get caught. He placed on the counter the needed documents and his picture, thus keeping a safe distance.

"Relax, darling, I'm just making conversation. You can't blame me when you look like this,” he sounded sleazy. He took another view at Neil than focused on his chest. The man started the ID machine, not breaking eye contact with Neil's cleavage. Maybe Neil overdid the padding.

Neil hoped not, considering that his bra was boobless, he did stuff it with rags but was not certain how authentic it looked. Was it some power move? Did the man try to intimidate him, or did Neil just look weird? Neil speculates if he should have put extra effort into his appearance. He just copied the clothing of a random mannequin. He had a short sleeve golf top and an office-long skirt. It had pockets. Nay, if this was decent enough for the showcase, it's good enough for this dude.

“My eyes are up here”, Neil grunted, not that he cared. If the man preferred to stare at his fake boobs, he could be Neil's guest. Neil just didn't want the man to spot the fakeness. This could cause the interaction to become awkward, more than what it is. Or worse, a dangerous one, if the man noticed the bluff.

Neil forced himself to loosen up, over stressing will look out of place.

“I've made my choice”, the man answered, not shifting his gaze, sounding amused. Neil recognized this line, finally Nathaniel pop-culture is useful.

“Was that a Simpsons reference?” Neil asked attentively. Small-talk should be better than doubtful looks.

“Oh yeah, I kind of didn't expect you to catch that one”, he glanced up bashfully, scratching his head. “Most women don't follow shows like that.”

That was a big fat lie. Did the dude really assume that 50% of the population never saw one of the most known sitcoms? Neil failed to disguise his expression because the man elaborated.

“I mean that scene, it's not one of the popular ones”, the man rambled, peering aside at anything but Neil, who still felt baffled.

”I am not gatekeeping you or something, I just … you seem like such a nice person”, he ended with an unsure tone. 

Another lie. Neil barely did anything that could imply his niceness. He didn't even introduce himself. Was this man trying to lower his defenses before he launched his interrogation attack?

“Never mind, what brought you to this remote place?  Except for work, of course. How about we sit with a cup of coffee and get to know each other?" The man was trying to butter him up, but Neil knew this game, and two can play. The one who revealed more information lost.

“Mainly work, a little of this and a little of that. I would tell you more but then I would have to kill you.” Neil played with his hair, mimicking an easygoing attitude. Neil would have put on a charming smile if he had one, but he didn't so he settled with a non-sullen face. ”My next gig is getting really close, so I can't stay long, sorry.” He moved a strand of hair behind his ear and tilted his head. This pose always worked like a charm at softening people for him.

"Cliché”, the man objected with a big smile, putting a palm on his chin, gazing straight at Neil softly. ‘Look who is playing up who now.’

“By the way, is the third master still in business? I heard the Don wanted to hand over some strip club to him,” he deliberately asked before the man could set up their second questioning round. Neil started to lay it on thick. “I just overheard some contradicting rumors, sure someone well-informed like you has more reliable intelligence.” He glanced away for a moment then back at the man, imitating a sheepish expression. "As an agent, I need to always be at the top of my game”.

“No, no, he’s again on one of his ‘breaks’, if you know what I mean.” The man dismissively waved his hand  ”You know, you look so much better with a smile on your face”, he teased, illuminating his own cheery face. ”I may give you valuable information if you move closer. I won't bite, unless you ask me”, he added with a wink. Neil didn't know why this rubbed him the wrong way, seeing as the man was not hitting on him, just testing him. But if he was, on the off chance, the dude clearly had never learned how to speak to women. Neil knew a few women, and they all would have decked the man for his words.

Oh, now he understood The guy was trying to bait him out of character. But Neil would not budge. A slight shiver passed down Neil's spine: it was 80% rage and 20% respect. It was a superb move to judge someone. Anger can reveal the true nature of a person. Luckily Neil knew better, mostly. The sole fact that held his temper in check was the knowledge he was already in trouble with two different criminal organizations. No need to add a third one. He counted to ten in Russian and French, slowly evening his breathing.

“Are you sure you can spare me some nice info? I can recommend you to my boss”, Neil sweet-talked, it was too good an opportunity to miss just because of his fear. He moved closer to the counter. As long as he watched the man's hands he would be safe from being grabbed. Neil showed the tiniest smile he could produce without showing teeth.

“I'm all ears now," he whispered, placing both palms on the man’s cheeks. The man looked like someone who would fall for his coy act. Neil was completely composed while the man had his guard down.

He probed a bit more. Not wanting to raise suspicion, Neil asked a few more verifications about the third master, sprinkled in between stroking the guy's ego of how bright and useful he was. The ID machine pipped, and Neil finally could be relieved from this unease. He snatched the new IDs, practically throwing the money at the man's face and moving away.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something, darling?” the man panicked, then pointed at himself. Neil honestly didn’t know why the man had a beef with him. He assumed the man no longer suspected him, so why would he demand to meet him again? Did he still doubt Neil's sincerity, and it was all a facade to throw Neil off? Time to do some name-dropping. 

"If you have an issue, you can send a message to Rocco Bianchi that one of his girls is misbehaving”, Neil drops a legitimate name of the Capos in the Bonanno family, one that the man would not dare to complain to or question.

“I really need to run to my next assignment, but if fate binds us again…“ he sent a kiss from a safe distance as a distraction.

No one tried to stop him from escaping after this.

The next thing on his agenda was to fly the fuck away, using again his mom's passport. No need to make his tracking easier for the Bonanno mafia by using their own IDs. He doubted the man had the guts to pry into him, but better safe than sorry. Now in the safety of hundreds of miles between him and the man, he let himself have a minor panic attack. What had possessed him to play along with the man? This was not the forgettable encounter he had planned for. 

Counting all the things he could feel, like Alice taught him, made the panic attack more bearable. The panic was still there, but the control was his. The breathing exercises helped, too. In times like this, he felt the Stephen in him missing Healdsburg, the small happiness he obtained there, but it was not his home, he could not stay there. Feeling the loneliness crushing his insides, he felt so far from home, but it was a home that didn't exist, not since his mom died. He linked his fingers through the netting of his Exy racquet, gathering more control over himself. The racquet was the one Alice bought him for Christmas. This was the only thing he kept from Healdsburg. His mom would have forced him to toss it away, not letting anything connect him to anywhere. Neil pushed all his feelings down. He didn’t have time for this, there was still work to do. First, his plan for the third Bonanno's master.

After planning for eight months, Neil realized that one of the things that would have made Nathaniel's life easier at this age was having a backing from someone. Yes, in another life his father could be an excellent backing; as the sole successor of one of Moriyama's vessels, his life would have been a smooth ride. To his misfortune, the Moriyamas don't believe in nepotism. Also, Nathan was a raging psychopath, so no dice. A backing from someone could free him from so much bullshit the Moriyamas spat on him. 

Like all of Riko's shenanigans, or his supposed debt to the main branch. Ichirou was lying when he told Nathaniel his father owed them money. While destroying the Moriyamas, Nathaniel discovered that his sperm donor paid all his dues before perishing, like the dog he was, and Ichirou just milked him for years. Not that he could have done something even if he knew, but if Neil associated himself with the third master of the Bonannos, it would be harder for Ichirou to use him, especially before he could finish the takeover process from his father's death. 

The Bonannos in contrast to the Moriyamas were a more family-oriented mafia. They didn't throw away their other branches, just gave them lesser jobs. The current Don, head of the Bonanno's group, had three sons. The firstborn was already his Underboss, the next in the succession line.

The second son would become a Consigliene later that year. Five years from now, he would seek to overthrow his older brother, only to fail and be executed by his own father. These two were irrelevant to his plan. Neil set his eyes on the third son, Luca. Unlike his brothers, he didn't have an official title, was not ambitious or interested in climbing the ranks, and yet, the Don adored him. Luca was lazy, liked to live extravagantly and without responsibilities. His dad would give him some small firm or store to take care of as a front, to keep him in the family business; Luca, in retaliation, would delegate all decisions to his current number two, some poor bastard the Don bullied to help Luca, then let the company run into the ground. After successfully ruining the store, Luca will have a break, spend all the money on parties and drugs until the Don will put a stop to this and decide to force Luca to take over another trade, and so the circle repeats. Luca resented his dad for trying to make him a productive member of society; oh the audacity of his papa, to actually care. 

Neil planned to call Luca and pretend to be his current number two, with orders from the Don to open an information broker in South Carolina for Luca. Luca probably would not trouble himself with meeting another of his father's goons in person, instead being satisfied with monthly phone calls. As long as the cash kept rolling, Luca would Ok anything Neil suggested and do the bare minimum as the owner. The downside of opening a new shop was that he couldn't do it alone; even with Luca's support, there was still a need to have someone physically be in the store and maintain the connection to the clients and money management. Neil would be too busy as a college-athlete to do the day-to-day work. Neil, concluded the data broker, would require at least two employees beside himself to run the shop.

With Neil's knowledge of the future, the guild would certainly float above the water with no effort from him. This is why he wouldn't require a good employee but an incurious one.

He had a couple of candidates for this, such that were too lazy to bother to do anything beyond what was asked and too cowardly to embezzle. His future colleagues would have to see him occasionally, while he dropped intel to sell. As a result, he would need to be Amanda Klun in front of them, Luca's new number three. For Luca, he would impersonate an old male agent, just in case Luca is one of these men who believe women couldn’t run a business. 

Pretending to be other people on the phone was easy for Neil; he had a wide range of vocals and a knack for accents. An idea popped up in his mind, if he already needed to be two individuals, why not be more? He could commission himself as different translators for his job, then cash all the extra paychecks. This could maximize his profit, considering the other thing Nathaniel lacked at his age was no-strings-attached money. Another benefit of his plan, besides a backing and a way to earn a living, was putting Palmetto State University under Bonanno's protection. This may not stop all of Riko's scheming, but would make him accountable for them. One cannot simply commit crime in another mafia-family territory without a solid reason, and Riko's petty spite would not be a good enough explanation.

The landing was smooth. Arizona welcomed him with a heat wave and a strange sense of excitement. Phoenix was not different from any other airport city, yet it made him feel giddy. He immediately crushed this feeling as it was too early to be hopeful. Just because fate went one way in Nathaniel's time-line didn’t mean it would work the same for him. Jumping the gun would only slow down achieving his goal. Neil breathed in and out, imagining himself metaphorically squashing any distracting thought. He did not have time for this.

First, he needed to find a hotel to stay, then establish a connection with Luca, starting his designed criminal career. The next destination would be Millport and their Exy team.

At the hostel, Neil let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn’t even really smoke, so there was no nicotine addiction to feed, but he needed the hoarseness it would give him. Unlike Nathaniel, he didn't associate the smoke with his mom, the wonders of having a safe place to grieve had on his psychology. Healdsburg was more a blessing than he realized. Good thing he didn't dwell there. Neil lit another cigarette, and this time he smoked it. He could play with his voice pitch or accent, but hoarseness required an external force.

Luca was more likely to comply with him the older Neil sounded on the phone. The third cigarette was again burned without taking a drag, and he wondered if he should smoke like Nathaniel. Fate was a fragile thing, and the Foxes may not like this time-line version of Neil Josten, if he was too unrecognizable from Nathaniel. Maybe he should try to bridge the differences between them. Of course, nothing promised he would get the same version of the Foxes Nathaniel met. A fourth cig made his lungs itch. This was his limit. Neil played a bit with his pitch, settling on a deep voice with a Neapolitan accent.

Pressing Luca's number on the burner phone, Neil slowly counted to ten in Italian, relaxing his nerves.

“Hello, my wonderful Luca, the Don worries so much about you. I am Ghost, your current helper to a new beginning. I have an order to start a data broker with you. Is it a good time to chat?” he talked in a fast and cheerful tone, not letting Luca cut him off before he established himself. A loud groaning was heard from the other side.

“Dude, it's ten o'clock, I just went to bed. Can we move it to …. I don't know, later?” a whiny voice scolded him.

“Oh no, my wonderful Luca, the Don requested that we start as fast as possible, better to hit the iron while it is hot. How about I forward you the plans via email and if you agree, just send me your bank info and I will set up the business”, Neil dialed up his cheery speech. Maybe he enjoyed this a little.

“Why the fuck do I need to give you my bank info, I never needed to do this before. You sure you know how to do your fucking job?” Luca's temper sparked. Neil needed to finish it quickly before the brat disconnected him. He walked on a thin rope between not being too irritating to have Luca hang up the phone on him and just annoying enough to make Luca minimize their interaction.

“The Don thought you are more likely to care if the cash goes through your accounts, that seeing the numbers run up and down may fill you with motivation. Just allow the plan, and we can keep rolling. The early bird will always get the worm.” Neil pressed to send his well-crafted email. He bet Luca wouldn’t notice him using his accounts to launder his cash. What is 2 or 5 million mysteriously going through a billionaire account?

“Just in case, I have more than one of your phone numbers, and I do not mind repeating myself”, he added when the phone went too quiet.

“Whatever, just let me sleep'', the phone disconnected. Soon enough his computer pipped, an email with Luca's digital signature and bank details showed up.

Neil finally let himself feel a tiny bit hopeful.

Chapter Text

Millport was as mediocre as he expected. His other memories barely contained anything of Millport except that their Exy team was recruiting.

The town folk looked tired and were as disinterested in Neil as he was in them. School started with a rush of miserable students moving zombielike to classes. 

The school secretary read over his fabricated record from his previous school. He gave himself excellent scores, no need to pretend to be average here. People rarely checked anything if it looked formal, so Neil doubted the school would catch up with his fraud. 

The idea was to graduate early so he could join an Exy college team on time. Without a need to maintain a low profile, or someone to enforce him to be mediocre, Neil could let his skills shine. A necessary step if he wanted to attract Exy recruits to this place. 

“I see you are the new boy. What made you move here?” the secretary asked disinterestedly, sipping from her tea, not even glancing at him. She loaded his documents in a random drawer while minimizing her Solitaire game.

“My mom found a job here”, he shrugged, matching her temperament. "By the way, I heard there is an Exy team here?” He tried to sound nonchalant; after all, he didn't move here for the education.

“Oh, yeah, there is one. Here’s your schedule.” She just handed him a stack of sheets and continued gulping her tea, returning to her thrilling Solitaire.

“Can you tell me where it is?” Neil carefully asked. He would rather not start his day with an argument.

“Yes,” she responded, then didn’t elaborate. He could be air from how she acted. This Solitaire must be the hype.

Neil took a breath, and another one. He would not hear more from the secretary; perhaps he would have better luck with any other person. The first group of students he met pointed him in the right direction to the Exy court. 

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” one of the guys was sizing Neil up. Neil didn’t know if the dude was trying to be imposing or if he was just being nice.

Neil nodded. “Neil.”

“Ahmed.” He gestured to the others at his side. “This is Steve, Mike, and little Johnny. I’m guessing you’re a freshman, too?”

“No, senior. Mom just had to move for my last year,” Neil gave half a shrug. “Is it obvious?”

“Kind of. This town is pretty small. We all grew up together. We don’t really get any newcomers. The last one was Mr. Yamato two years ago”, the one named Mike piped in. Mike had unique looks, therefore was easier to distinguish. 

“Are you an Exy player?” little Johnny, or was it Steve, asked.

“Are you any good?” Maybe-Steve added.

“See my playing and judge for yourself,” Neil said.

He glanced at Ahmed and the others and figured that they could be of some use to him. He wasn’t exactly keen on forming connections with people, but he needed to practice his social skills. This group might help, and he could easily play up the superficial appearance of friendship without constantly requiring him to establish a deeper personal connection. It may not be much, but they would have to do.

They escorted him to the Exy court. As he guessed, it was more a soccer field converted for Exy. Millport believed in recycling. Neil sighed. This, too, would have to do.

“Hey, Neil.” Neil turned to Ahmed.

 “Yeah?”

“You should sit with us. At lunch,” he added when he met Neil’s bleak face.

“I'm vegan," added Steve, or probably Steve, like a true vegan.

“Sure.” Finding friends was smoother than he expected.

The first school day was promising, but Neil still needed to locate a place to settle. Unlike Healdsburg, he didn’t have a secure option here. 

He scouted a couple of abandoned constructions, yet to discover a place where he could leave behind his laptop, sack of cash, and suspiciously new Exy racquet without going through separation anxiety. Of course, there were other items in his backpack that shouldn’t be seen by anyone else, like his handgun and combat knives, so open-to-all places were out of the question.

In exhaustion, Neil had to settle on a roof that still had a shut door. It was manageable, Arizona rarely has rainy seasons, so the lack of shelter wouldn’t hinder him overly much. It's not like he would freeze, and he purely planned to sleep there, so he wouldn’t get a heat stroke or something. 

Neil placed one of his locks instead of the original one on the exit. 

The concrete was warm to touch. Neil almost fooled himself that he was in a safe, heated bed like the one at Alice’s.

The roof didn’t have shadows of butcher’s men; however, Neil started awake every time he heard their steps climbing up to him. He lay down surrounded by knives, just in case.

The first night in Millport was long.

The first week passed like a flash.

The studies were ok, considering he technically had a graduate degree in mathematics and bullshitting. 

'Thanks Nathaniel, your sacrifice aided to our goals', he thought as he ignored the schizophrenia vibes.

Ahmed's group was fine. They gossiped a lot and had empty conversations about who did what with whom.

Neil tolerated this. He thought it better to craft his new Neil-Persona here than with people he cared about.

With the need to study out of the way, it left him with extra time to devote to Exy.

Coach Hernandez enthusiastically granted him the position of Striker. He didn't even have to try-out, just show up and not be an absolute ass-shit. Hernandez's words, not his.

Not pretending to be an Exy-newbie, like Nathaniel did, he advanced to starting striker before the end of September. 

The other two strikers, Alex and John, were average. Neil hadn't found the correct way to motivate them; outplaying them didn't help. Instead of becoming competitive, they became bitter. Some men can't get a hint.

One dealer, Anna, had the skills to be recruited, but from snooping around he learned she opted to continue her family business in tinsmithing, so convincing her to take Exy more seriously was fruitless. 

The other dealers were sufficient, but again, any attempt to persuade them to stick around for extra training failed.

As for backliners, they had four: two ok-ish and two superb for high school standards. Of all of them, only one, named Mika, agreed to work regularly with him. She was from the Ok pile. 

The goalkeepers, Anita and Sam, were excellent. He actually had much lower expectations for them. Both yielded to do some extra practice with him if they had the time between their jobs.

Neil needed to be better if he wanted his plans to succeed. The things he lacked were a complete Exy-field and a good Exy-team to practice with.

Getting to train in a real Exy court, not the abomination of a transformed soccer-field, was a hurdle Neil required to jump over, and one he had yet to find a solution to. Exy courts didn’t spontaneously emerge in places like Millport; the closest one was in Phoenix, which was a four-hour ride on a bus, because of course there wasn’t a direct bus line from Millport.

The Exy-team was the simpler problem. It would work if he could make them all give a shit. The Dingoes weren't an awful team, but most of them saw Exy as a hobby for an unexplained reason. 

Exy is a team sport. Neil not only wanted to strengthen his individual skills, but his teamwork, too. So how should he improve this lineup? How did the Foxes play together despite someone plotting to murder half of the team at any given moment?

Of course, Kevin's approach was out of the question. Neil had enough people wanting him dead. And Dan's would manage better with an authority position. 

It seemed like the 'Jeremy Knox' way may work here, and thus he would turn into the adorable cinnamon roll that no one would choose to disappoint. He would have to be much more ‘Trojans’-y than what he preferred. 

Unfortunately, of Neil's many talents, uniting a lineup with the power of friendship was not one of them. He needed to ask the local experts. 

“How can I become closer to my teammates? I wish to improve our Exy team morale," Neil asked at lunch.

Ahmed scratched his head. ”For starters, smile more”, he mimicked Neil's go-to facial expression. ”You kind of look unapproachable, but everybody likes cheerful people."

Neil once again was reminded that most humans don't distrust a smile on sight. Nathan and Lola liked to grin while inflicting pain on others. On the contrary, all whom he and Nathaniel trusted didn't. 

“Maybe be interested in their personal life. I, personally, feel included if someone asks me what I do outside of school or about veganism,” Steve, who was the shortest group member, suggested.

Another proposal which Neil would never apply to himself. Why would he want to know more about someone? Was he abnormal? No, it was the others that were wrong.

“Offer them help with their problems,” little Johnny added.

Unless someone needed aid to hide a dead body or burglary, Neil was not the right address.  

“How about inviting them to a party. Who doesn't like a good party?” Mike, the voice of fun, joined in.

Yes, finally advice Neil could understand, but not follow. Being homeless put a damper on this plan.

“I can see you shutting down all our suggestions by your face,” Ahmed complained. 

Neil should work on his poker face if he was so obvious. 

“Man, just try, maybe it will work”, Mike slapped his back. ”Here is an idea. Steve here is too shy to ask Anne for her phone number. Why don't you help him a bit?” He pointed at a bench full of girls.

That sounded simple enough for him. Neil totally could do this.

Neil approached the girl's table before they could suggest more. He gave them the ok sign, then proceeded.

“Oh, hey, Anne? Can I have your number?” she stared at him, her face blushing, and the girls next to her giggled.

“You're the new guy, right?” she twirled her hair and smiled.

Yes, Ahmed claimed he needed to smile. Neil hoped that Anne and her friends wouldn't be overly disappointed.

“Yeah, so can I?” Neil asked again with an impassive face.

“Sure”, Anne gazed at him. She didn't look alarmed. She even beamed back at him. Not only that, but she wrote him a number on a note, then added hearts.

“Call me,” she replied in an odd voice, and the rest of her group snickered.

Neil rejoined his group and handed Steve the note. “Here, problem solved."

“Maybe you should call her”, Steve sulked for no reason while the note was placed in front of him.

“I don't have a phone”, Neil reminded him. They already had the conversation about his lack of communication. 

“Neil, I think Anne wouldn't want Steve to call her, but you,” Ahmed gently pointed out.

“Shit, you're right. I forgot to tell her it was for Steve,” Neil rose to fix the misunderstanding.

Mike and little Johnny each grabbed a shoulder and sat him back down.

“Dude, never mind. This ship has sailed,” Mike said.

“And drowned'', little Johnny added. Steve sank into the chair further, and Ahmed just put his head in his hands.

Did Neil miss some key element in this interaction?

Neil, for some reason, failed to help Steve get Anna's number the right way, but he felt confident to help Mika with Exy.

Mika was massive, almost 6’-5” (1.96 m). Neil was sure she could bench press two of him with ease, but she was slow.

“Let's work on tackling. I will run, and you will chase and check me."

“It will be easier to paint over you than scrape your remains from the grass when I capture you,” she remarked, sizing him up

“If you can catch me,” Neil corrected her.

“I know bulldogs that are heavier than you."

“I know turtles that are faster than you."

Mika nodded, then raised her racquet.

”Better run little guy”, she taunted him. 

Neil didn't need another warning before his legs hit the ground. They played in full gear on the empty court.

At first, Neil didn't pace himself right, so Mika got a few chances to carry out her threat when Neil stopped to catch his breath. Nothing like 200 pounds of muscles on top of him to teach him to never stop on the field. Every so often, Mika kept sitting on him while he desperately tried to wiggle his way out. 

“Do you enjoy my misery?” Neil cursed the fourth time Mika pinned him to the ground, not moving aside.

“Yeah,” she confessed. “There is something cute about a small creature fighting to get away.”

Neil frowned at her words. ”Let's switch“, he suggested.

“You want to be on top of me?”

“No, why? I mean, you will run, and I will tackle you," Neil explained. He was tired of being on the receiving end.

Mika just laughed and broke into a light jog, finally letting Neil breathe. Catching up to her was easy, moving her was impossible. She was three or four weight classes above him.

Crashing into her at full speed barely fazed her.

Aiming his jump at her torso only caused her to stumble. 

Neil opted to roll down and knock out her legs, which forced her to go down. 

It worked wonderfully, except for the part where she crashed on top of him again.

“No break for you, little guy”, Mika teased. She pulled on his helmet.

“Glad my body cushions your fall”, Neil sarcastically said, still pinned under her.

“With your boney body, I’d hardly call it a soft landing," she complained back.

The conclusion was that Neil needed to fatten up, not only for Mika's tushie comfort, but also to increase the range of people he could knock down on court. 

“I wish we could train in an actual Exy court”, Neil moaned. This was the next step he struggled with.

Both he and Mika crumpled near the goal. The grass was nice to touch, too bad it would be crushed after their next game.

“We can ask Mr. Yamato to drive us to Phoenix; he visits his grandkids there once a month,” Mika proposed like it was not such an issue. “They have an enormous apartment in the city, and his family are quite the Exy fans.”

Neil was suspicious in principle of any generosity out of nowhere, especially from an older man.  

“Who? Why?” Neil fiddled with his racquet’s net. Kindness has a price; sometimes it’s self-satisfaction like in Alice’s case, almost free, but it was an outlier. Usually, there is a bigger deal going on.  

“Loosen up. He moved here two years ago, he is sixty or something, just a grandpa with Exy obsessive grandkids,” Mika extended her hand, raking through Neil’s hair.

Neil granted her a skeptical peek, unconvinced. This explained the ‘who’, not  the ‘why’.

Why Mr. Yamato may host two—no—one absolute stranger in his kids' home just because.  

“Me and Anita slept there a couple of times. If nothing happened to lovely ladies like us, you’ll be ok too,” she braided a strand of Neil's hair. ”We may not be as Exy fanatic as you, but still”, Mika answered his salient question, maintaining her concentration on braiding.

“Ok”, Neil shook his head to get rid of the weird hairdo, but his hair was curly enough to preserve the braids. Mika huffed tenderly.

“Sometimes people are just nice, especially in a little town”, she undid all the braids. She was not strictly wrong; however, Neil knew from experience that it only applies if you are from the right crowd. 

But if a Black and Latina woman felt safe there, Neil probably would too. 

Fine, Neil will give this Mr. Yamato a chance.

The next time he ate lunch with Ahmed's group, Mika showed up with a huge lunch-box.

“I saw what you eat and frankly, my dog eats more”, she opened the box and revealed a whole grilled lamb's leg.

“If this is what your dog consumes every day, I can understand how he outweighs me,” Neil commented. The rest stared at the meat.

“Why do you have an entire leg for lunch?” Mike quaked while Neil tore into the meat like the starved child he was.

“Did Neil offend you?” Ahmed asked anxiously, they all sounded alarmed by Mika's presence. Her size could intimidate them. Next to her, they looked like children. 

“Why would she feed me if I insulted her?” Neil interfered. He wasn't so bad, he had yet to truly cuss someone out.

And him riling up his history teacher about his misapprehension of World War I didn't count. He blamed memories of Kevin for this.

Or him going up to some douchebag’s face because he said islamophobic things to Ahmed. He was just anti-racist, so that didn’t count.

Or the time he ripped Alex and John, the other strikers, a new one when they spread a rumor that he was gay, and that's why he wasn't showering with the team. He may not be gay but outing someone out without consent is a big Nope. That also didn't count.

He was practically a quiet and nice guy.

“By the way, isn't lamb expensive?” he asked Mika with a full mouth. Neil scorned the carrots Steve slid into his meal.

“My dad is a butcher, he would have thrown it out tomorrow,” Mika pointed out. Neil ignored his shiver. ”I already feed stray cats, what is another small creature to the mix”. She smiled gently and disheveled Neil’s hair.

“I think your friends feel uncomfortable around me, so I’ll go,” she waved him off and left.

“First you charm Anna, now you even have Mika Brown on the hook,” little Johnny whistled, his discomfort disappearing as soon as Mika was out of view. 

Steve leaned back in his chair, mumbling to himself. Neil stealthily placed the carrots back on Steve’s plate.

“You sly dog”. Mike hit his shoulder. ”When’d you tap that?” 

Neil couldn't figure out how Mika's action would be perceived as anything except good-will. Looking down, he spotted a cauliflower mixed in the food, probably from Steve and his Vegan agenda. He just bit around the veggie.

“No… we are friends,” Neil gave them an icy stare. “Why would you say that? We both are on the Exy team”.

“We know,” little Johnny waggled his eyebrows, “But she’s befriended no one else on the lineup. Just you. It must mean something.”

“Our little Neily, finally getting on the big boys' playground”, Mike waggled his eyebrows alongside little Johnny. A squash appeared in Neil’s meal; he moved it to Mike’s plate.

“Wasn’t he already in the big boys' league? He at least seduced Anna and all her friends”, Steve piped in, glaring at Neil. Yet to forgive Neil for whatever made him mad at him, that or Neil’s avoidance of vegetables. 

“Doesn't this put him in an uncomfortable situation?” Ahmed's forehead creased, silencing everybody else. 

Finally, someone with the voice of reason. He and Mika definitely are not on any of this romance nonsense. Neil felt awkward at the suggestion.

“Do you feel threatened by her?” Ahmed asked Neil. “She can easily smash you against the wall if you anger her. You can say no if you would rather not date her. "

And here his last hope flew through the roof. Not even one of this friend-group considered the possibility that Neil and Mika were just regular buddies.

“No.” Neil’s annoyance flared. “We are just friends, and she’s done nothing but be a pleasant teammate.”

“Neil, you are new here, but she beat up some guys and stirred up some drama,” Ahmed rubbed the back of his neck. “She sent some of them to the ER.”

The others just stared at Neil and Ahmed in awkwardness, except for Steve. Steve handed Neil a broccoli, a raw broccoli, which immediately was transferred to the confused Mike.

“I prefer to see things for myself”, Neil crossed his arms, challenging Ahmed to go on.

Luckily, Ahmed could take a hint and he let this topic pass.

Steve grumbled about how it wasn’t fair that even scary Mika liked him, and Neil just contemplated. The rest chatted about the upcoming homework.

Neil knew that not all Japanese people in America were secretly Moriyama’s accomplices, but it didn't stop him from distrusting Mr. Yamato on sight. 

Mika and Anita joining him was the one and only reason he agreed to get into the man’s car.

Mr. Yamato was elderly and looked as harmless as Mika had described him. Each of them could take Mr. Yamato in a fight by themselves if needed. 

Yet, until Neil stepped into the Phoenix Exy court, he awaited to greet Ichirou’s icy gaze by the end of the ride. What usually took four hours in public transport took only an hour in Mr. Yamato’s nice Mitsubishi, which was nice considering that the entire trip Neil was ready to jump out the moving vehicle if any criminal looking car approached them.

Sometimes paranoia was a bitch.

He kept expecting for the other shoe to drop, just because Mr. Yamato was Japanese, so he missed the excitement of being on a real court for the first time since he saw a man’s insides. 

A couple of balls to the head from Anita set him straight.

They played until they exhausted themselves, they slept in Mr. Yamato’s house, and no one met any Yakuza. 

Neil returned to his roof, his paranoia ringing bells in his head about how he missed something, how this much good will can’t be real.

Neil was exhausted. It had been a month, and he still could not drift off for more than three hours in his present place. 

It seemed terribly open for his comfort. He dreamed of being sniped, how he would slowly bleed out, how his corpse would decompose long before anyone broke onto the roof, how his death would be meaningless like his mother’s was. 

He covered himself under all his clothes, but sleep was still not pulling him under.

Neil ran, and he ran, and his legs shook, his heart-beat was so strong, how other people could sleep when his heart beating was earsplitting. 

Stephen was in a good place, but Neil, Neil was slipping, and he needed to stop.

He pondered about what Alice would suggest if she were here.

‘Avoidance is fine, like if you are afraid to leave your iron on when you are at work, just carry it with you. Common sense is overrated. I guess I mixed the story a bit. You know my memory is not so good, but the point is, if you would rather not relax on the bed, just make a bed in the closet or the bath or any other place. I think Veronica still has her grandson's crib mattress you can use,’ an old conversation resurfaced in Neil's memories. 

He could handle this.

The roof didn’t have any furniture; however, Neil could bring in something to conceal himself from future assassination. And afterward, he could be at peace.

He didn’t loosen up that night, but Neil slowed down his slipping, and this was a start. 

“Ok, I can’t keep watching you carnivore-ing yourself away”, Steve broke the silent treatment he had given Neil in the past month. Neil barely acknowledged him while ripping apart the beef flank Mika made him.

“It can’t be healthy”, he added when no one took the bait.

“A man gonna eat what a man gonna eat”, Mike gave a dismissive wave; the others just shrugged.

“I am a growing boy”, Neil said, spitting out a bone. God knows how he wished to bulk up. He became better at body-slamming Mika, but not enough.

“When was the last time you ate a salad?” As a true vegan, Steve wagged a finger at Neil in rebuke. “That's it. I will feed you, no way only Brown gets to do it,”

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Neil smoothed down his shirt, interested in why Steve cared. Surely it was not Neil's sunny personality. He was yet to befriend any teammates beyond pleasantries, except Mika. Even Anita only talked to him when Mika was present.

“I am mad at how pretty you are,” Steve slammed his hand on the table. “It doesn't mean I am not horrified by your diet. "

“You think I'm pretty?”

“Pretty annoying and in need to reevaluate your life choices”, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Mike and little Johnny snorted.

Steve’s crusade to balance Mika’s meat didn’t go unnoticed. Mike and little Johnny opened a betting pool on how unsavory Neil would find the dishes. Ahmed sighed about how dumb it was.

Salad, kale, bland vegetables were a massive no.

Spicy sauerkraut and many traditional veggie plates were meh.

The soups were ok.

Tomatoes stuffed with eggplant and eggplant-tomatoes-Salat were a hit no one could predict, and therefore Steve made it for him every day since, aggressively presenting alongside the meat serving. 

Little Johnny found himself $100 richer, against anyone's moping 

Neil spotted a nice-looking box to furnish his ‘home’. It was roomy, and could shield him if someone burst in.

It further improved his sleep-deprivation under the vacant skies. 

He added more boxes to his roof. To unsuspecting eyes it looked like garbage, but to him it looked sorta like a home. 

Until the rainy season began. Unlike Neil’s prediction, the cold bothered him very much.

“You are becoming soft”, mother's voice whispered in his thoughts, “weak and predictable."

And Neil could only comply with her. 

He slept awfully well in his box in the summer. He was practically a sitting duck in Millport. The cold kept him sharp and he hated that. 

Neil forced himself to continue spending nights on the roof. His future was too bleak to dismiss the ability to rest in discomfort.

Mother haunted him in his dreams. Her fists were a tough coal, and she advised him that a momentary sense of security was more fatal than a gun to the heart. 

He craved how she had held him tight and assured him she would watch over him, now that he only had himself. 

In the morning, he found himself tangled in clothes, wet and shaking. 

Mother may have wanted him always on the lookout, but mom would want him to be warm. 

Neil had to break into the locker rooms. On an unrelated note, after some time, coach Hernandez started accidentally leaving snacks, water, and cold medicine.

What is it with people and the urge to feed him?  

Neil tried not to linger on another example that contradicted mother’s claim that help often comes with a price tag.

Life in high school eventually felt like a routine:

Every day, he got up after five hours of sleep.

He'd jog from six o'clock in the morning until seven, later breaking into the Exy-court to warm up alone until school began.

Neil breezed through his classes, pushing for an early graduation.

He was being fed by at least three different people, and got along with Ahmed’s group.

He laundered his cash to Amanda’s new bank account, backed by Luca ”I-don’t-care-how-you-do-it-just-earn-me-money” Bonanno and purchased properties and picked employees for next year.  

He continued to go to Exy practice with the whole team, and honed his teamwork skills.

In the evening, Neil carried out his ‘set up an intelligence broker trade’ project. 

Opening a new business under questionable circumstances required a lot of bureaucracy, which Luca refused to participate with, so Neil now had Luca’s stamp to approve documents in his name. 

Good lord, how this man-child didn't have his bank account cleaned before. He was extremely lucky that Neil was a sensible scammer.

Neil struggled to be helpful to his teammates. 

He told Mika how to make her verbally abusive alcoholic father pass out, so he wouldn’t upset her.

He proposed to Anita to leave a glitter bomb in her cheating ex’s car. Neil would even place it there for her.

He even offered Alex and John to help take out the Exy rackets stuck up their asses.

Neil provided plenty of other suggestions to his teammates that didn’t involve any form of crippling or long-term damage, just a teeny bit of odd advice. 

And each time he faced a flabbergasted stare and had to use the magic words ‘I was kidding’. 

Every month he traveled to train with Mika and Anita in Phoenix’s Exy-court, and not once did a Yakuza member greet him there.

Neil felt almost like Stephen, but he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Finally, it was Christmas break. Neil and the girls agreed to spend it with Mr. Yamato's family. What was better than playing Exy with no distractions?

“Shopping obviously”, Anita cut him off. “I know you, Mr. MacGuyver, can just recreate your school supplies with a screwdriver and old gum, but the rest of us need to buy it in the city. "

“I think I agree with her, little guy. We will have all vacation to play, but only now to shop before all hell breaks loose with holiday gift buying.” Mika shoved Neil’s hair away from his face, smiling at him.  “How about you start without us, and we’ll meet you later?”

“I'm not a child”, Neil sulked, pushing her hand aside.

Anita rolled her eyes at them and jerked her thumb toward the exit. Mika followed her. “Don’t practice until you pass out, and drink your water”, Mika yelled before reaching Anita

“Still a full-grown adult”, he called back, but they had already disappeared into the busy street.

Yes, he was baffled, but it was only for a day or two. Tomorrow, they would all work out together.

Neil put on his gear and arranged cones for one of Kevin’s revised drills.

How strange to miss a person he hardly knew. He couldn't wait to meet Kevin again, and the other Foxes. 

Neil’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. He was already halfway to them. 

Time was on his side. He let himself forget anything that wasn’t Exy. It was better to slowly build proper reflexes than get rid of bad habits. 

He aimed like Kevin showed Nathaniel, did footwork like Jean Moreau taught Nathaniel, worked the plexiglass with a trick Dan came upon and passed down to him. 

Neil wasn’t close to the desired level, but just being able to immerse himself in the game made him feel free.

Someone interfered in his practice and stole the ball in the middle of Neil's pass to himself. Right before he could shoot at the farthest cone.

“Not bad for a beginner,” a highly familiar voice said, “but you angled yourself wrong for this shot. You applied too much force with your left hand and leaned your knee too low."

Aborting the nostalgia, Neil no longer missed Kevin.

The rational course of action would be to pretend to be calm and ask what Kevin-fucking-Day was doing here wearing black and red. Neil improvised by bolting out without uttering a word, straight up dashing to the exit.

For some reason, Neil expected an Exy racquet to greet his guts, a maniacal laughter and a curse at his expense.

Instead, someone stopped him with a full-body slam. Neil crushed down, scrabbling ineffectually at the floor as he tried not to lose it.

“Hello, I am Riko Moriyama.” Like this bastard needed to introduce himself. “I liked what I saw today.” Riko put on his public smile, the one that fooled the media and hid his psychopathic tendency.  

The other shoe dropped.

Chapter Text

Neil experienced inner turmoil. Part of him wished to flee the scene, while the other leaned towards playing the part of regular Joe, so as not to raise any suspicion. Maybe they are not here for him, maybe he just had the luck to be in the same place with them.

“Neil Josten, right?” Riko asked, offering his help like he wasn’t the one who tackled him a minute ago. 

Ok, they were here for him.

“Yes.” Neil instantly evaded Riko's outstretched hand as he rose, but subsequently reconsidered and extended his hand for a handshake. He needed to look natural. Neil went for a weird fan impression, who was too overwhelmed to act normal around his idols.

And definitely not avoiding Riko. Everything was proceeding smoothly, except for the fact that Neil let go of Riko's hand too abruptly, almost pushing it away.

Riko furrowed his brow, seemingly puzzled as to why Neil wasn’t kneeling to worship the ground he was standing on. 

Kevin caught up to them, “Hey, why’d you –” 

“I forgot the thing”, Neil cut Kevin off with a quick excuse, grabbed his racquet, and rushed off, leaving behind two perplexed Ravens.

There was no time for showering or changing clothes. Neil stormed in full gear out of the court, seizing the first overpriced taxi who agreed to get him to Millport.

On the way back, he pushed his anxiety aside and remembered all the techniques Alice had taught him to manage it, like:

Thinking about three sensations he felt. Neil thought about the vibration of a car that was clearly not driving fast enough, the ghost grip of his mother around his neck, the sticky feeling in his hands from blood that wasn’t there.

Thinking about things he could see. Neil saw his life getting shorter, his plans collapsing, his father's face in the car’s mirror.

Or Alice's favorite advice, which was to breathe in as slowly, deeply, and gently as you can, Sadly, Neil's current capability was limited to taking slightly slower breaths than hyperventilation, leaving him with no better option.

He didn't have time for this. He needed to pull himself together.

Neil pinched his hand and yanked his hair to stop himself from spiraling, feeling ashamed. He reminded himself that recovery wasn’t linear, but it tasted like an excuse in his mouth.

Neil scrambled to his roof, rapidly dividing his stuff into objects he required to hide if Riko was after him and junk he can utilize in his regular-homeless-disguise. 

He smashed his laptop into pieces and scattered it on his way to school. Most of it was backed up, and what wasn't…

Neil would rather deal with the consequences of lost data than fabricate a reason that justified why he had one.

Neil went inside the locker room. There were fifteen lockers but only seven male athletes this season. In other words, there were unused hiding spots Neil could use for his incriminating equipment. He placed his cash, binder, and Amanda’s things inside the vacant lockers and replaced the locks with his own. The last item was Alice’s Exy-racquet, too tall to fit in the lockers. 

Neil had to bet on the coach's good will, so he broke into his office and left it there with a note asking Hernandez to keep it for him.

He contemplated whether it would be more appropriate to drift off to sleep in that spot or return to his boxes, but the pure exhaustion he felt after all the adrenaline bled out compelled him to collapse on the bench. Maybe tomorrow he could form a better plan.

‘You were too comfortable here’, his mother whispered in his dreams. ’Comfort leads to carelessness and carelessness leads to this’, her voice explained with the patience she never had while living. ‘You should have left at the first sign of being known’.

Neil didn't want to give up Millport. He wanted to stay just a bit more, just another day or week or as long as it took for the Foxes to find him.

In the morning, Neil stirred at the noise of someone opening the door. Considering that it was Christmas break, Neil tensed, then relaxed when he heard it was just Hernandez’s voice, and then tensed again when two recognizable voices followed in. 

"Josten, you've managed to gather these high-profile recruiters here, and they're not just anyone," Coach Hernandez observed with a hint of paternal satisfaction. 

"Who would've thought that out of all my athletes, the Ravens would be eyeing someone who hasn't even finished a full season?" He paused by the doors, keeping a respectful distance from Neil, understanding from past encounters that he should wait for Neil to approach him.

Neil hoped Coach Hernandez wasn't on the verge of tears as he let the coach give him a hug. He really didn't want to disappoint him.

“Yes, we were really impressed with Josten's performance”, Riko adjusted his tie, looking quite formal for this early hour.

“Josten’s speed and creativity in using his shortcoming size moved us,” Kevin stepped in, wearing an identical black suit. 

Neil would be flattered if Kevin had bothered to wait a couple of months, preferably with a different stabby guy.

“Good morning”, Neil was obliged to acknowledge them, not like he would hide behind Hernandez forever.

The two of them were overdressed for the occasion, and Neil wasn’t certain if it was an odd power-move the Ravens were trying to pull on him.  

Joke was on them because he was used to dealing with men dressed to the nines with an intention of hurting him. If they thought he'd be embarrassed to look shabby in front of them, they were dead wrong. Dignity is for the easily impressed.

“Josten, how is the… thing, the one you forgot?” Riko asked with a wicked grin, like Neil needed a reminder of his lame excuse.

“Yeah, I took care of it”, Neil offered a vague explanation while making a dismissive hand gesture.

Currently, Riko was playing nice, but he would show his true colors the moment Hernandez stepped out. Better to rip the band-aid off now than later.

“You perhaps want to speak to me”, Neil jerked his thumb toward the coach's office. Riko smirked, while Kevin just frowned, folding his arms.

“Oh, yeah, be my guest. I will wait outside,” Hernandez waved to them to continue. “I didn’t expect to see you here and planned to chat with them myself. I thought you went with Brown and Perez to Phoenix.”

Neil’s heart sank. Oh, no, he forgot one minuscule detail in his desperate attempt to lose the Ravens.

Mika was going to unalive him or, worse, refuse to play with him. He couldn’t imagine what Anita speculated about him after this stunt. He should have at least called Mr. Yamato’s phone, so he could inform them he was safe. For now. 

“I had a… thing I needed to do”, Neil couldn’t believe he used this excuse, again.

“Better start the meeting before Josten’s… thing will delay us”, Riko gestured to the office, Kevin silently followed him in.

Neil shoved his fear down. He could panic later. Now he needed to focus.

“Josten, before we were cut short, I wanted to tell you how surprised we were when an Arizona-Rattlers member sent us a video of your game,” Riko sat down on the coach's chair and snapped his fingers.

Like on cue, Kevin opened his laptop and showed Neil a video titled 'Exy's David and Goliath HAHAHA.'

The footage had a comedic undertone because of the vast difference in the participants' sizes. And there he was, with Mika, knocking her down and running circles around her, showing off like someone who wasn’t in hiding. 

And Neil could acknowledge that it was on him and his stupid, stupid confidence.

“The Ravens could use someone with your talents.” Riko pointed at video-Neil scooping the ball from the crashed Mika. ”We came to offer you a proposal you can’t refuse.” Riko cocked his head, sliding the forms toward Neil.

“I won't sign with the Ravens”, Neil responded, without much looking at the contract.

“Why don't you want to join the Ravens?” Kevin chimed in.

‘Because slavery was abolished in 1865, Kevin’, was the right answer; unfortunately, Neil had to hold his tongue on this. 

"I’m not good enough to play on the same court as champions.”

“True, but irrelevant," Riko said.

Neil had a gut feeling that the situation didn't play out as it should have.

“We saw your learning curve, and according to our calculations you are gonna be up-to-date by the end of the summer.” Riko leaned on one hand. “What better team to take you to the top than us? Trust us.” He snapped his fingers at Kevin again. “Show him.”

Kevin, who had been rather quiet except for his inquiry about Neil's lack of interest in joining them, proceeded to deliver a presentation. “Here is our schedule to make you a Raven.” He pointed out different activities for every day until Neil could come to Edgar Allan. The chart included very little rest, or time for school.

“I'm not sure all of this can be done in one day”, Neil carefully pointed at the list of tasks expected just for one day. He still kept the act of the quiet guy.

“On a regular day maybe not, but on a Raven-day, all of this can be done and more,” Riko answered while Kevin’s expresion turned dreadful. “It’s a sixteen hours day.  Ten up then sleep for six, and up again.”

“That sounds like a fun way to fuck with your inner clock,” Neil grimaced. He never experienced it himself, but by Nathaniel’s memory it’s bad. “Are you sure this won’t just give me hairline fractures?”

Kevin’s face said yes, his mouth said no. He and  Riko reassured that this approach was safe. Neil could spot a liar when he saw one, and Kevin was especially lousy. He stuttered over risky drills, unauthorized diet plans, and disproportionate sleep time. Future-Kevin would have gagged on how unbalanced this plan was. Neil briefly speculated that this was Riko's subtle attempt to undermine Neil's physical well-being. However, he knew the Ravens were just that crazy; that's why you don’t let someone without a ‘Bachelor of Sports Science in Coaching’ degree to coach a team, like Mr. Moriyama.

“I really appreciate your ideas.” Neil was not appreciating their nonsense ideas. “I just don't feel like I'm up for that level of commitment when it comes to Exy.” A fat lie that might just get them back off. “I hope you didn’t waste your time coming here.” He held out hope that, at the very least, Riko would experience profound devastation.

Neil noticed Riko clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes in irritation, but he swiftly reverted to his usual public smile. If Kevin hadn't appeared so anxious, Neil might have doubted whether he had seen that.

“Ok, we can’t force someone to play for us if they don’t want”, Riko casually shrugged with a feigned air of indifference. “As a last resort, how about we do a little practice, and maybe you like it so much you would come to us next year.” He stood up and offered Neil a hand. “If not, no gain, no game.” 

Neil knew he was not yet out of the woods. Nevertheless, he couldn't afford to appear too hostile towards Riko, and after all, what harm could one training session do?

“Sure”, and Riko grinned.

Kevin and Riko reappeared dressed in their official uniforms, even though there didn't seem to be any apparent reason for them to bring them to the meeting.

Neil couldn't bolt out now, even though Riko's weird behavior over the past two days left him with too many questions to ignore. Neil felt on edge. He wasn’t sure if this was how non-criminal Ravens got recruited, or if Riko knew who he was. 

If yes, why didn't he threaten him in the office before?

The one thing that worked in his favor was Coach Hernandez being on the court; they likely couldn't get up to too much with him around.

The practice was fun. Neil could almost overlook his feeling of doom.  

Coach Hernandez had a massive smile on his face. Capturing countless pictures for future generations, Neil could easily envision him sharing tales of the day a famous Exy Division I team visited Millport. 

He and Kevin teamed up against Riko, but Kevin was unaware of this alliance. Years of Nathaniel playing with or against Kevin led to him reading younger-Kevin like a book. Wherever Kevin passed the ball, Neil was there quicker than Riko, until Kevin started deliberately playing against Neil or badly. Kevin’s cooperation lessened the more stern Riko’s face was.

Riko was better at scoring than Neil, Kevin’s aim sucked, but Neil found his passion in flipping Riko over like a rag doll between passes. It’s the little things that make life enjoyable, like Riko’s curses from a well-aimed elbow to the ribs. Neil enjoyed responding to Riko's aggression with his own, to the point where even the coach had to intervene, urging them to dial it down a notch before someone ended up in the emergency room.  

And before Neil noticed, two hours went by, and he was drenched in sweat. So were Kevin and Riko.

“God, where did you get all this energy?'' Riko cursed, panting hard. Kevin looked a bit better, the long-legged bastard.

“Are you absolutely certain you don't want to come with us?” Riko asked, taking a swig from his water bottle after retrieving it from his bag.

“Yeah, this was rough”, Neill rested on the ground; he really went all out on this. 

“I have a feeling you prefer Kevin over me, something in the way you play. Why?” Riko changed the topic, and Neil could detect the underlying question, a veiled threat directed at Kevin, most likely.

Of course Neil didn’t plan to throw Kevin under the bus, so he had to provide a reason that didn’t involve Kevin's superiority as a striker or his knowledge about Riko’s true character.

“What can I say, I like my strikers tall and heavy handed.”

“Josten!? You are an even shorter striker”, Riko quipped, empty bottle in hand, making a show of dangling it.

“Bold of you to assume I like myself”, Neil replied, and Kevin finally cracked a smile for the first time today.   

“Wait, I will bring you more water”, the coach yelled, walking to his office.

Kevin drew out two more bottles from his backpack and threw one at Neil. It felt strangely familiar, him overextending himself on the court and Kevin taking care of him. Both Kevin and Riko moved closer and took a rest near him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a deep gulp from Kevin's water bottle and immediately noticing the odd after-taste. Riko caught Neil's head in position, then tilted and held it up, preventing him from spitting it out.

“There, there. Why couldn’t you be less perceptive?"

The last thing he saw before blacking out was Kevin’s guilty face. 

Luckily, this wasn’t the first occasion Neil woke up in a dark place beaten up and tied to a chair by ill-tempered captors. He knew what he had to do despite his heart beating like a drum. He left his eyes closed, concentrating on the sounds. The place was silent. Good, this gave him further time to shake off the effects of the drug. His hands were bound with zip-ties, which meant short-term imprisonment, as they were not suitable for extended use. 

Before he had enough time to plan his escape, the door opened and lit up the room.

Then a slap to the face “got” him up.

“Rise and shine, little one”, Riko’s sing-song voice cut through Neil's hazy thoughts.

Neil tasted blood in his mouth. He craved to spew it at Riko’s smug face. But then again, it wasn't wise to provoke the person keeping him captive.

Kevin and another man, a bodyguard perhaps, entered the room after Riko. Kevin appeared horrified, while the man remained completely indifferent.

“Neil Josten, what do we have here?” Riko dragged a chair and placed it in front of him.

It was the wrong name, and Neil held his breath. 

Kevin hovered over Riko's shoulder, visibly nervous and on the brink of passing out. Neil had no sympathy for him, especially since he was the one being kept hostage.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do it”, Kevin advised, face glistening with sweat.

“Shut up, Kevin”, Riko bluntly brushed him off, reaching for the notes handed to him by the bodyguard.

“So, Neil Josten, did a cat get your tongue?” Riko turned his gaze to Neil. Again, there with the wrong name.

“A poor homeless bastard, it is reported here that you have a mother that no one in town saw or met,” Riko sneered, pointing at the paper with a mocking tone. “Looks like someone was abandoned.” 

Neil really should've kept quiet, but he wouldn’t. “Well, at least I've grown up enough not to let it define me. What happened, huh? Did mommy forget to teach you not to throw a fit when someone doesn't want to play with you?”

Riko seized Neil's chin firmly, his fingers tightly gripping Neil's cheeks. “Watch it, Josten. You've got a grandma; it would be a shame if anything were to happen to her,” Riko's demeanor shifted from amusement to anger in an instant.

It seemed that Riko was here for Neil Josten and not Nathaniel Wesninski. Riko only discovered the fabricated history Neil had crafted for the Jostens. But Neil knew it wouldn't hold up if he gave them a reason to dig deeper. It was wiser to let Riko exploit a fake weakness than to expose a real one.

“Don’t you dare to touch her,” he hissed at Riko.

“Then don't provide me with a reason to," Riko's smile widened as Kevin's face grew paler.

“What do you want?” Neil asked, glaring at the pompous bastard.

In the background, Kevin moved his weight from one foot to the other, casting glances back and forth between Riko and the bodyguard.

“You,” Riko responded, shifting his grip from Neil’s chin to his hair and giving it a sharp tug, "and if you play nice, I might even better your life. After all, Exy players earn a lot of money”.

Neil had a multitude of questions swirling in his mind. The situation was puzzling, and Neil could come up with plenty of reasons for Riko to pursue Nathaniel Wesninski. However, he couldn't fathom a single explanation of why Riko needed Josten on his side to such an extreme degree.

There were also the other mysteries, such as his connection with the Arizona Rattlers, the official Exy team of Phoenix. Since they weren't a top-tier team, there didn't seem to be any obvious rationale for Riko to seek their advice.

Did every Exy organization inform the Ravens about potential recruits? Was it all just a coincidence? How did they explain the scene to the coach, or did they simply snatch him and make a run for it?

Neil hesitated to ask any of them, fearing he might expose his understanding of the situation. Not like Riko was benevolent enough to provide an answer. Maybe he could squeeze something out of Kevin, given the chance.

“Okay, but what's the plan now?” Neil asked, curling his lip in a sneer. “I feel I missed something. Why are you so hung up on me?” he questioned. “The Ravens surely have no shortage of willing participants.”

“I mentioned the Ravens could benefit from someone with your skills,” Riko remarked, releasing Neil's hair and leaning back in his chair. “Now we just need to set a bit of boundaries. If you won't play  with  me, you'll play for  me.” He propped his chin on his hand.

Riko stated that in the next two weeks, until he and Kevin would be required to leave for the Christmas Exy banquet, they will police Neil’s work-out, diet, sleep, and practice. He promised that if Neil behaved, no harm would come to his grandma.

And, of course, they supplied no further explanation.

On his first day under Riko’s regime as Neil, they finally gave him back his bag after a pretty thorough search. Paranoia is a bitch, but thankfully she ran the show, so Neil didn't get busted with anything sketchy.

They rented a room in a high-quality hotel and had access to someone's private Exy court. If Neil was honest with himself, excluding the part where Riko technically blackmailed him, he had a blast. It was the untroublesome kidnapping he ever experienced. 

But it was one, nevertheless. 

Spending each day with Kevin and Riko was a rather peculiar experience.

He discovered that Riko had a dry sense of humor. He was passionate about history, like Kevin. If he and Kevin weren’t arguing about Exy they were debating about historical accuracy.

They teamed up to force some vegetables down his throat. Kevin would lecture him about health and Riko would drag him to Yoga sessions.

And Neil hated it.

Riko would adjust Neil's stance, coach him how to aim with a smaller arm span, and compliment his progress. 

Kevin sprinted alongside him across the court, assisted him with stretching, and massaged Neil over his clothing when his muscles were too tense.

And Neil hated it.

Riko and Kevin engaged in goofy dances after successfully demonstrating to Neil how to execute a complex pass.

Kevin snickered when Neil managed to “accidentally” hit Riko square in his balls, and Riko cackled when Neil tackled Kevin so hard, Kevin slid a few inches.

Riko insisted on combing and blow-drying Neil's hair because he couldn't stand the thought of such nice hair getting mistreated – that's what he said, at least.

Kevin would encourage him to join in his skincare regimen, emphasizing that Exy players were like celebrities, and celebrities needed perfect skin.

Riko took the initiative to apply ointment to Neil's calluses, while Kevin pointed out that neglecting it could put his career at risk.

Kevin prepared fruit smoothies with Neil to drink together before practice.

Riko would prepare meals for him and ensure Neil didn't skip them in favor of extra practice.

Kevin piggybacked Neil when his legs were too far gone to stand.

And Neil hated it.

Each Raven-day they trained hard for ten hours straight: they ran and passed and threw and scored and chased and dived and rolled and slid, until night.

They retired to the hotel room with barely enough energy to shower and eat.

Each Raven-night, they would collapse onto the bed, often ending up on the same one, utterly drained.

Neil ended up wearing Kevin’s overgrown shirts, after they banned him from sleeping with his thrift-shop clothes, and they wore only boxers after a lengthy argument about why they couldn’t go to sleep in their birthday suits. Just because it was accepted in the Nest didn't mean Neil would tolerate their nudist tendencies here. Neil made a note to himself to loot a couple of Kevin's t-shirts afterward as compensation; they felt incredibly soft against his skin, and Kevin had plenty to spare.

And Neil hated it.

They told him silly anecdotes about the Ravens. 

How it was fun to live, breathe, and love Exy 24/7 with all the team every day.

How much he would revel in it.

How they couldn’t wait until he joined their lineup.

And Neil hated it so, so much.

He hated it, partly because it was a mirage, a make-believe they played to assure him he was not entering a cult. 

Nathaniel saw what Riko was under his public persona, and Neil met Riko enough in his childhood to not fall for this trick.

But he hated it more because part of it was genuine. The part that kept Kevin hanging. The very part Neil would have welcomed under different circumstances. The part that previously caused him to be envious of Kevin.

How could Riko dare to feign decency in his presence? How could he have the audacity to step out of the neatly ‘irredeemable-bastard’ box Neil put him in? Even worse, how dare he string Kevin along and force him to be less? How dare he be good to Kevin, but only good enough for Kevin to stay, no more.

Neil could see the cracks in their façade. When the argument got too heated it was always Kevin who backed down. Kevin kept tabs on how many goals each of them scored, and his count was consistently one less than Riko's. It was always Riko’s ideas that were better, and if Kevin did something better than him, it always was a fluke. If their demonstrations failed, the blame would inevitably fall on Kevin.

Kevin was way quieter than Neil remembered, and he couldn't stand it.

Time passed by, and before Neil knew it, their "break" had reached its final day. Neil was constantly treading a fine line between obeying just enough to keep Riko's threats at bay and acting like a little shit because he refused to let Riko see him as a pushover.

Riko couldn't always maintain his façade of benevolence. Occasionally, Neil's remarks resulted in the bodyguard roughing him up, although it was far from what he had endured in the past. They seemed to avoid scaring him too much. Lola, Nathan, and even Mother had hit him harder before.

Neil wasn't sure if it was intentional, but he and Kevin were never left alone. They either were with Riko, or under the bodyguard's watchful eyes. 

Neil was running out of time to do something about Kevin, and he couldn't shake the thought of what was coming in just a few days. It was hard to forget, especially when he saw Kevin's unscarred left hand. 

He had to intervene.

The only time the bodyguard wasn’t with them was when they were asleep. The extreme practice made them all fall like a brick on their bed. Neil needed a way to avoid burning himself out on that day, especially since Riko would still be out cold, and Neil was familiar with how to wake up Kevin and keep him awake.

He didn’t like to make himself vulnerable, but he needed to be up to have a late-night conversation with Kevin, so he decided to give himself a minor sprain. 

He proceeded with his own scheme, appreciating the skill of hurting himself just enough. Those little quirks of firsthand experience in living through domestic abuse.

After his “fall”, they provided him with an anesthetic ointment, as if he couldn't simply walk it off. He kept it hidden, knowing that Kevin would probably need it more than he did.

Unfortunately, even with a sprain, Kevin and Riko pushed themselves and him to the limit, still expecting Neil to keep up. At least they understood why he had to take it easy.

Practice finally ended at five in the morning.

He forced himself to wake up in the early morning, another skill he had thanks to his parents’ teaching. Kevin was passed out, his face calm, leaving Neil uncertain about what to do next and what he could possibly say.

'You are gonna be betrayed in a couple of days. You are gonna be so thoroughly betrayed that it will simultaneously be the event that crumbles every foundation you believed about your life and the only conclusion it would have led to. It will diminish everything, and it will take you years to realize it was for the better', but Neil couldn't explain this to Kevin. He could simply hope that this time, too, Kevin would withstand the storm.

Neil quietly dragged Kevin out of bed. The fool, of course, was still asleep. He then guided him to the bathroom, and Kevin remained unaware of the relocation. Neil had some trouble maneuvering Kevin into the bathtub, but he handled it. He switched on the cold water, placing a hand over Kevin's mouth to muffle his shrieks. 

“We gotta talk,” he said once Kevin had finally figured out where they were.

“What the fuck, Josten.”

“Listen, you're way better than Riko, and even he's starting to catch on. He gives you these murderous glares every time you accidentally one-up him, like he wishes to snap your limbs. You are in a truly tricky situation”, Neil went for the kill, no need to sugar-coat it.

“What”, Kevin slurred, lazily squinting the water from his eyes.

Neil lifted his shirt slightly, revealing the less recognizable scars, “I know what domestic abuse is like,” he answered, letting his t-shirt fall back into place. ”No, we don't have the luxury to argue whether you're in an abusive relationship with Riko or not. The bottom line is, you're scared of him, and he doesn't appreciate it when you outperform him,” Neil expressed firmly. 

Kevin tensed up, avoiding Neil's gaze or looking at his scars.

“Riko will snap, maybe not today, or this week, but eventually he will sabotage your Exy”, Neil added, choosing to lay out all the info without leaving room for a reaction. "As things escalate, he'll likely begin by causing a couple of bone fractures. While this is unfolding, make a scene, scream loudly, so he believes he's inflicted more harm than he actually has. Then, when you’re away from him, do this”, Neil listed the instructions to Kevin, hand raised and finger pointing to underscore each one.

“First, stabilize the injured bone. You can fashion a makeshift splint, roll up a newspaper, or secure it to something sturdy, such as a bundled cloth. Second, make sure to elevate it above your heart to minimize swelling. Lastly, take an ice pack, wrap it in a cloth, and use it for approximately fifteen minutes at a time. This should provide relief from both the pain and swelling." Neil paused briefly, continuing to relay information, seemingly oblivious to Kevin's bewildered expression.

"I've got some painkillers; you can take them because tomorrow I'll be free from him, but you won't be. And, of course, make every effort to avoid putting any pressure on the broken bone," Neil advised, aiming for a balance between empathy and practicality.

Next, he handed the anesthetic ointment and painkiller he had received for his own sprain to Kevin, who, still in a daze, automatically accepted them.

”Stay safe,” he wrapped up their conversation, sliding back into his bed without acknowledging Kevin's wide-eyed expression, leaving him in the tub.

Before falling asleep, he threw a couple of Kevin's t-shirts into his bag, choosing the smaller ones. Kevin owed him after this shit show.

Morning arrived, and Riko, as usual, began spouting his controlling nonsense, asserting that Neil was required to join Edgar Allan and become a fully fledged Raven. Neil refrained from rolling his eyes, as if Riko could compel him to continue this routine from a distance. Kevin shot him sideways glances, but didn't offer any indication about their chat from the previous day.

Finally, the three of them were gone, leaving Neil to deal with the aftermath. Neil wasn’t sure how furious everyone would be about his disappearance. Hopefully at least the coach was in the know. 

The Coach wasn’t in the know.

Everyone he knew was angry with him, including Coach Hernandez, who only was told that Neil had gone willingly but was unaware of his whereabouts.

“You disappeared for two weeks to train with the Ravens and didn't bother to get in touch with us," Anita scolded him sternly. “We had to mobilize Mr. Yamato's entire family to search for you. We even reached out to your friends. Ahmed and Mike had to leave their own families during Christmas because of you. You're acting like such an ungrateful jerk.” 

It seemed like the coach informed them about Kevin's and Riko's visit and their intentions regarding him.

Neil couldn't defend himself. What could he tell? That he was kidnapped by Exy stars? They would likely assume he was just indulging in some kind of fanfiction fantasy.

“Well, at least he's here now,” Ahmed commented. “You know, Mike and I don't celebrate Christmas. We are not Christians so it doesn't really bother us.”

“Thanks,” Neil whispered softly. They all still looked disapproving. Even Mika arched an inquisitive eyebrow. Nevertheless, Neil found himself unable to offer any justifications. 

Neil held out hope that perhaps Kevin would have a better day. So many things had changed from Nathaniel's memories, maybe something would take a turn for the better. However, the headlines in the 'Exy News' the next day shattered his hopes: "Kevin Day, Exy champion, injured his left arm in a rock climbing accident in McDowell Mountains."

Neil thought he could finally return to his usual life, or so he believed. 

It took him a full week to soothe his aching muscles, which was quite an accomplishment considering he lived outdoors and had limited access to hot water. This illusion crumbled the moment Riko's bodyguard reappeared on his doorstep.

“Master Riko instructed me to relocate you to a more suitable place for a future investment”, he announced. 

Okay, so this was Riko's idea of how to keep Neil under control. Unfortunately for himself, Riko was right. Neil couldn't risk blowing his cover at this point, so he had no choice but to comply with Riko's plans. The bodyguard relocated him to an apartment somewhere between Millport and Phoenix, providing him with a phone that had a direct line for Riko to text him threats and demands.

Right now, Riko was only going after his fake grandma, but Neil knew that Riko would try to use anyone who was close to him.

He had to distance himself from everyone. Fortunately, his recent stunt had left them pretty upset. It is easier to cut ties when you're at odds.

One small mercy Neil had was that the bodyguard didn't reside with him, but he made it clear that he was nearby and keeping him under surveillance. He informed Neil that he'd be the designated driver for school in the morning and Exy practice later at the court, warning Neil not to pull any funny business. Neil could only hang around for the school's Exy practice; anything beyond that earned him a beating afterward. He had a feeling that if it weren't so obvious, they would have pushed him to quit school altogether.

Another downer was the prohibition on consuming any food outside his dietary restriction. They mandated that he only consume these unappetizing smoothies, which supposedly contained all five food groups, minimized his eating time, and, according to Riko's instructions, provided him with all the necessary nutrients. Mostly, it was repulsive. 

However, the recollection of that year when he and his mother survived solely on cheap ramen and nearly contracted scurvy reminded him that things could get even worse, motivating him to endure. That, along with Riko's ceaseless threats regarding his grandma's well-being—at least someone was enjoying themselves here; too bad it was the rat bastard.

Neil had to sever all his interactions outside of school. Riko had always been informed about Neil's social circle beyond school activities and regularly inquired if they were his friends.

The first day he innocently ate Mika’s and Steve’s food, the bodyguard shoved laxative down his throat. Never again. So now Neil had to hide from them for lunch too.

He brushed off the gossip that suggested he believed he was too good for the Millport team and chose to stay quiet. Anita labeled him as a deceitful hypocrite, Alex and John said they knew he was this kind of person. The rest of the team kept their distance, except for Mika, who regarded him with a serene expression. 

Mr. Yamato attempted to contact him once, and no further attempts were made. Only Hernandez asked him quietly what had gone down and then gave him a lecture about not letting the Ravens' success go to his head and burning bridges.

Neil needed to speed his plans up. Riko's interference had left him with minimal sleep and limited time to concentrate on school. He was forced to function on just five hours of sleep daily, devoting any free time he could scrape together to the court.

He figured out they aimed to prevent him from getting a high school diploma, essentially leaving him with no choice but Edgar Allan. Too bad for them, but he already made the preparation for early graduation. He started by wrapping up his math and physics requirements, which gave him a free period to catch up on some sleep.

Planning Luca’s and his new business was challenging without his own laptop, but Neil managed it after finishing all his chemistry and other easy subjects. Regrettably, he couldn't carry out his intended money laundering scheme because he couldn't risk anyone suspecting he wasn't as broke as he seemed. 

As anticipated, Riko had a knack for sabotaging well-laid plans.

He spent countless hours in the library, diligently working on his plans. He channeled all his focus into this thing, steering clear of thoughts about the Foxes, Kevin, and, most importantly, doing his best not to dwell on Andrew. Nathaniel's memories of Andrew stirred thoughts of vengeance, something Neil didn't believe in.

Even now, with his mother dead, Neil didn't see the need to take retribution on Nathan. That's why Nathaniel's affection for Andrew scared him. After Andrew's murder, Nathaniel lost it. He pushed away all of his other friends; he pursued a criminal career, undermining any sacrifice anyone made for him. He was ruthless, not shying away from hurting the innocent to achieve his goal. Nathaniel stained his hands in blood, and even after he trampled all over Moriyama's empire and took out Ichirou himself, he was too deep to pull out from the life of crime. Nathaniel traded his soul to the Japanese Yakuza devil for this and possibly broke everyone's heart while doing it. At the end of all of this vengeance he was victorious, and yet he was pathetic. Neil was envious of many factors in Nathaniel's life pre-revenge, but not his “nothing” with Andrew. Neil never desired to hold someone so dearly that he would be prepared to look in a mirror and realize he had turned into his father, embodying the cold-blooded murderer he had always feared becoming. That's why Neil hoped to not fall in love with Andrew. They could be friends. He preferred not to let anyone down, especially himself. Love often felt like a sacrifice, pain akin to a loaded gun, and Neil had experienced enough instances of it being pointed at him, starting with his mom, to know he could do without it.

Neil was tired, so incredibly tired. He counted the days until the Foxes would arrive and found himself growing numb. He no longer saw Steve or Mika carrying an extra lunchbox, nor did he find Mike’s and little Johnny’s notes asking him to talk to them. Nobody on the team engaged with him in non-Exy conversations, and even Ahmed stopped trying to catch him during breaks.

Neil was familiar with the feeling, and he hated it.

After one practice, he discovered a note inside his locker, and he immediately recognized Mika's handwriting.

Neil struggled to put this feeling into words. It was akin to a gentle sprinkle of warm water after running for hours in the rain – not enough to keep him warm, but enough to make him feel somewhat broken.

Neil wrote and tucked the note back into her locker, placing it between her makeup case and uniform.

He could wait. One day he would be able to tell them. Not now.

He fulfilled all the high school graduation requirements and received his diploma. He requested that this achievement be kept secret because he wanted to keep playing for Millport, and the school complied. 

He read about Kevin Day joining the Foxes, but the Foxes had yet to arrive; it seemed too early.

He read about Janie Smalls joining the Foxes, but the Foxes hadn't shown up; perhaps it was still too early.

He read about Janie Smalls's attempted suicide, but the Foxes still hadn't appeared; it wasn't too early anymore.

Why are they not here ? 

Why?

Why?

Why?

He waited and waited. He checked with the coach that his records were sent to all other Exy teams, including the Foxes. 

He kept waiting. He ate the gross food, did the drills, played on the court, and kept his head down with Riko. 

But the Foxes didn't come. And he couldn't wait any longer.

Neil used one of his burner phones to make a call. Time to use some of his resources.

He debated if he should leave a note, and what to write. The less everyone knew the less likely Riko’s people would question them.

He stuffed the note inside Mika’s locker before the Exy game, and stole her make-up kit. He gathered his belongings and dismantled the phone Riko had given him, carefully retrieving the memory card and SIM card. Perhaps he could use them for potential leverage in the future.

Riko won't remain untouchable forever.

Neil had yet to learn how to properly say goodbye. 

So on that day, Neil Josten played his last game for Millport, and Amanda Klun walked out after. He seamlessly merged into the crowd of Dingoes fans. Amanda hopped into the car he had arranged through the Bonannos, holding a single Duffel bag and an Exy-racquet.

The ride to his next destination couldn't be more bittersweet.

Chapter Text

In contrast to Nathaniel's experience, when Neil arrived in South Carolina, there was nobody present to welcome him at the airport, and nobody was expecting him to join the Foxes. 

Neil was just hoping that it was due to Kevin bad-mouthing him to the Foxes, rather than Kevin losing faith in him. With fingers crossed, Neil headed towards the exit, his thoughts consumed by the unexpected change of plans that Riko had thrust upon him.

He was about to become the first person to show up at Wymack's doorstep uninvited and demand an Exy scholarship. 

Sure, Wymack encouraged his Foxes to be bold, but did that extend to this level of audacity? Yeah, Neil hoped this wouldn't blow up in his face.

Neil clutched the strap of the duffel bag hanging off his shoulder and chanted to himself that he could pull it off. He could come to Coach's apartment, stay in a closed room with an older and much stronger man, and then convince him why he was worth the chance. 

This seems like a pretty solid plan , he considered, reassuring himself that it had to be.  It must be.

Entering Coach's building posed no challenge to Neil, but mustering the courage to knock on his door was another story. 

Neil hesitated, unsure of what to say. He typically went with the flow, letting things happen as they did, knowing there would always be another chance, another place to run to, another fresh persona to have a crack at. However, this time, he had to stick around.

Neil had his report card, boasting all A's, his Exy game records, and his sob story ready. 

His hesitation lingered, and he couldn't help but wonder: what if, without Kevin's support, he wouldn't make the cut?

Coach may ask him to wait until next year, and by then, without the Foxes, he would be dead.

The sound of the door unlocking grabbed his attention. He scrambled to the stairs, staying out of Wymack's field of view.

"Yeah, Abby, I remember. Mine at seven." Coach's gruff voice filled the entrance. "Yes, I've cleaned the house for today."

Neil peeked at him. Wymack was busy juggling a phone, keys, and folders to notice him. Those folders likely contained info on his competition. Maybe Neil could steal and burn them. That way, Wymack wouldn't be tempted to pick someone else.

"Sure, the apartment's up to my cleanliness standards. If I tried to match your standards, I'd be vacuuming every week," Wymack remarked as he moved away, elaborating to Abby his more laid back approach to cleaning. He continued to explain to her why nobody would notice the difference whether he washed his floor every week or not at all. Poor Abby.

That sparked an idea in his mind. Cleaning Wymack's home would likely earn a few extra brownie points compared to anyone else.

Again, gaining entry was a piece of cake. Wymack hadn't bothered with high-quality locks, too used to the Foxes’ delinquent tendencies.

The house was a messy disaster but manageable. Neil had been cleaning up crime scenes since he was nine, so this was nothing to him.

Neil started with the easy stuff; load coffee cups into the dishwasher, clean any overflowing ashtrays, organize the paperwork in a neat stack.

Neil figured he could go one step further. He put two and two together and figured that today must be Coach and Abby's date night. He thought about spicing things up a bit; it was clear that Abby would appreciate a clean floor and a nice dinner, and Neil was well aware that Coach didn't have a single romantic bone in his body. 

From eavesdropping, he gathered that they wouldn't be back until seven in the evening. 

This gave him plenty of time to prepare a date for them.

Neil got caught up in the kitchen, making cupcakes, cooking a tasty mushroom soup, and tossing together a little salad for Abby, using Alice's recipes for everything. He meticulously set the table using Wymack's best cutlery, placed a bottle of white wine to complement the meal, and added the final touch by putting on an Elvis record, filling the room with soft music.

He almost forgot to leave a note for Coach to schedule their meeting.

He left the note next to Wymack's plate and ran off, before he could ruin the surprise by overstaying.

Neil was positively giddy. He now had the chance to implement all the pointless dating tips he'd received from Ahmed's group, even though they remained skeptical about Neil and Mika never being a thing. 

Coach should be delighted: he got an effortless nice date. 

Neil’s anxiety about meeting Wymack had lessened a bit. He lingered near the stairs, listening for their entry before searching for a place to sleep. Tomorrow should be great. Now he just needed to find a place to crash in.

In the end, Neil broke into one of the vacant apartments in Coach's building. The floor was clean, the door secure, and he even found a comfortable box to sleep in. It was the best place he had slept in the last year.

The following day, all of Neil's insecurities came rushing in with full force.

What if Wymack won't be convinced? 

What if he lost his chance? 

What if Kevin stood his ground and refused to accept him?

Riko's actions had undeniably sabotaged any potential chances he might have had with any other Exy teams.

He knocked on the door, holding his bag tightly as if the belongings inside could provide him with the courage he needed. Wymack swung open the door with an irritated expression, one hand gripping the handle and the other clutching a bat. 

For a fleeting moment, he didn't resemble the man who offered chances; instead, he seemed like the one who had stripped them all away. 

Neil flinched; however, the man again turned to be the Coach Neil remembered from his other memories. Nathan is not here and neither are his minions. Wymack won't hit him.

“Hi, we scheduled an appointment at six… I left you a note”, Neil admitted sheepishly. 

Wymack scrutinized him for a moment, appearing less guarded as he even put his bat aside.

"Please, come in," he said, holding the door open wide to invite Neil inside. Neil was still unsure about the prospect of being alone with Wymack. He didn’t want to go in alone, but there was no one he could bring along, no one he really trusted.  He missed Alice, he missed Ahmed, he missed Mika so, so much. 

In the hallway, he was met with a piercing stare from a pint-sized blonde perched on the couch, and judging by the smirk, it could only be none other than Andrew Minyard. 

In person, Andrew didn't seem like much, standing at just 5 feet tall. Neil couldn't help but feel  grateful that he felt nothing for this person, nothing at all, merely slightly relieved he was not alone with the older man. Neil was glad to have confirmation that having memories of feelings isn’t a shortcut to having those feelings himself.

"Hey, Andrew," Neil greeted him, giving a small wave.

"I'm Aaron."

"In that case, I'll have to ask Coach Wymack why he has the wrong twin high as a kite," Neil bantered, but his playful remark received only silence in response.

"This is Andrew," Wymack confirmed, dismissing Andrew with a gesture, much like he would with a cat. Andrew ignored him.  

Neil took Wymack’s example and dismissed his presence too. Andrew was only a threat to those who touched him or his. 

Wymack settled into the armchair across from Andrew.

"So, what brought you here, Mister...?" he inquired, leaving the sentence hanging for Neil to fill in his name.

While Neil contemplated his response, a door swung open in his blind spot, and an unexpected guest barged in. His reflexes kicked in quicker than his brain's processing speed. He unintentionally pushed Kevin Day down, and while attempting to prevent Kevin from hitting the floor, he misjudged how much Kevin outweighed him, resulting in a tangle of limbs as they both fell.

So much for leaving a good first impression.

Neil quickly untangled himself from Day and shot a quick glance at him. He couldn't help but notice that Kevin's hand looked much better compared to the picture he'd seen in the news back in January. Neil was genuinely happy for Kevin's recovery. However, as he mulled over their last encounter, Neil couldn't help but feel seriously ticked off about how Kevin had spiked his water and taken part in his captivity. Oddly enough, Kevin seemed completely oblivious to the anger simmering inside Neil.

"Are you here to play?" Kevin inquired. Of course, that was his first question—not how Neil had been since they kidnapped him or how Riko's insurable control had affected him, but fucking this.

He recognized the familiar look on Kevin's face—it was the Kevin-wants-to-train expression.

Neil didn't want to repeat the "Ravens' Crazy Training Session: Kevin's Version" so soon in the season. A flashback of those never-ending nights with Kevin relentlessly pushing everyone to train for just five more minutes, again and again, until they were surprised by the morning light. 

So he felt compelled to tell Kevin off before he got any ideas. 

“Fuck off, Day, I’m not gonna do it again, we’re not gonna do it all night like last time," Neil hissed, haunted by the memory of their last practice that had lasted again until the sun came out. 

Those damn Ravens.

Kevin appeared momentarily puzzled, but then quickly regained his composure, looming over Neil. "You weren't prepared enough, so we had to keep going all night," he asserted, as if that were the issue, completely disregarding the terrible workout plan he and Riko had concocted.

At least Kevin felt safe enough to be obnoxious, which was a far cry from how he behaved around Riko. 

“I limped for two days after that."

"If you had properly stretched beforehand, you wouldn't have been limping," Kevin pointed at Neil in distaste, as if stretching was the magical remedy to avoid hairline fractures or sprains.

A cough interrupted their argument. Wymack still waited.

A-w-k-w-a-r-d.

“Josten, Neil," Neil responded, his grip on his bag firm. He stood there in the middle of the room, uncertain about where to go next.

"I can see you two are acquainted," Wymack noted, glancing back and forth between them.

“I am also interested in who is this fellow with whom you apparently spend the night,” Andrew chimed in, his gaze narrowing as he focused on Neil.

Kevin boldly announced, seemingly oblivious to the judgmental expressions in the room, "Not just for one night, but a whole two weeks." This statement raised eyebrows from the others, and when their gazes landed on Neil, he merely shrugged in response.

Kevin had a peculiar talent for unintentionally dropping homoerotic remarks every now and then.

"Kevin, your taste seems to be going downhill fast—first Riko, and now this?" Andrew grinned,  gesturing towards Neil with a smirk that left no room for interpretation.

Unless your name was Kevin.

"Yeah, he's a bit on the short side, but he's got the stamina to make up for it," Kevin quipped, pacing across the hall. When the others still looked skeptical, he added, "Riko and I recruited him to the Ravens last Christmas, so we trained him for most of it," providing clarification to the rest of the group.

Kevin glossed over the whole blackmail, drugs, and threats to Neil's grandma, which made sense, but Neil figured he'd have more respect if Kevin had the guts to own up to it.

Fine he could play along with Kevin’s clean version.

“So, he's a birdie?” Andrew asked, his arms folded as he assessed Neil.

"I'm not a Raven," Neil asserted, giving Wymack a direct look. "And the last time I checked, Riko pointing at me and declaring he wanted me isn't exactly legally binding," he added, shifting his gaze to Kevin.

"Why are you here? You should be in Evermore in two months," Kevin's eyebrows knitted, his voice tinged with genuine fear. He maintained his imposing presence over Neil, though Neil refused to yield.

“Still didn't sign with the Ravens”, Neil reminded Kevin once again, his patience wearing thin with Kevin's one-way track on the matter. 

Did Kevin think Neil was the sacrifice for his freedom?

"Are you here to join the Foxes?" Wymack stepped in, motioning for Neil to take a seat beside Andrew.

Finally, the conversation was headed in the right direction. Neil willingly handed over his school diploma and Exy game records to Wymack.

"You can't be here," Kevin protested, still fixated on the issue. "It's not safe for any of us if he shows up looking for you." Terror flickered in his eyes as he paced anxiously. Neil couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was overlooking. Meanwhile, Kevin continued his restless pacing back and forth.

"I'm not even the only one in this room who told him to screw off," Neil remarked, nodding toward Andrew, who wore a mischievous grin.

"Riko needs to hear 'no' for the sake of his healthy development, just like they say in 'the baby whisperer,'" Andrew quipped, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

"Andrew was a lost cause, with his criminal record likely being a hindrance to the Ravens. It was quite simple to make Riko lose interest in him," Kevin explained with a sigh of frustration, ”It’s not the same”

"So harsh, and to someone who took care of you all this time," Andrew responded dryly, showing his characteristic lack of emotion. 

He cast a sidelong glance at Neil, likely intrigued by why the Ravens might be seeking him out. 

Me too, Andrew, me too.

"So, just because I'm more skilled at committing crimes than Andrew, you and Riko decided to stalk me," Neil commented as he settled next to Andrew, paying no mind to the potentially threatening glares directed at him.

“You committed a felony?” Coach inquired, his attention now focused on Neil's documents, showing appreciation for Neil's impressive diploma.

“Nothing that can be proven.”

"You don't understand," Kevin interjected, his jaw clenching as he interrupted once more. "He will come for you."

"Riko would have come for you regardless, so it doesn't make a difference," Neil shrugged.

“Enough with the Riko drama, folks. Let's stick to the point,” Wymack waved off Kevin's concerns. "Take a seat," he pointed to the loveseat, even though three athletes were a tight squeeze on the sofa. 

Kevin maneuvered himself between Andrew and Neil, occupying the majority of the space. He took advantage of the close proximity to feel up Neil's upper muscles. 

During Christmas, he had been the one responsible for giving Neil post-training massages. Neil tolerated it, but if anyone else had tried, he might have met Neil’s fists, intimately.

"Damn, why are you so hard", Kevin cursed. In Neil’s defense it wasn't his fault that Riko's bodyguard didn't believe in rest and pushed him like a workhorse. Not that Kevin cared. "When we're done, I'm taking you to bed to fix this," he stated firmly, determined to help Neil unwind.

This left Andrew and Wymack exchanging skeptical glances, then fixing their stares on him. Neil hoped they weren't confirming what he feared they might be checking.

"I'll have to pass on your generous muscle massage offer, now let me have my conversation in peace”, Neil remarked, trying to set the record straight. 

If Kevin wanted to label himself as some kind of pervert, that was on him , but he needed to steer clear of dragging Neil into it. Neil would find a way to get back at Kevin for this; he could be patient.

He pushed Kevin's hands away from his shoulders with force, and in response, Kevin clicked his tongue as if implying that Neil was being unreasonable in this situation.

“Are you planning to finish it with a happy ending?” Andrew inquired, his tone laced with jest but not entirely joking. He then yanked Kevin closer, ignoring Kevin's protests, who wanted to continue his shenanigans as he pleased.

"More like a 'Kevin's not making it out alive' finale," Neil exhaled, coming to terms with the fact that he can't redo the first impression. 

He scooted as far away from Kevin as he could on the small sofa.

God damn it, Kevin.

"What are you two talking about?" Kevin attempted to grab Neil back but failed.

"Do we really need Day here?" Neil finally asked Wymack after having to stand up to evade Kevin’s grabby hands.

Kevin, growing tired of trying to catch Neil, snatched the diploma from Wymack’s hands and examined it himself. "Give me that. Who else can decide if you're worth taking on?"

"Sure, it's not like I'm the one calling the shots here or anything," Wymack responded with sarcasm. He got up and gestured for Neil to take his spot, settling in next to Kevin and making the boys squeeze together even tighter.

“Did you fake this?” Kevin asked. Ironically, this was the only authentic document Neil possessed; all of his other papers were indeed forged.

"Hey, just to set the record straight, I was an absolute joy to have in class," Neil quipped. Kevin seemed even more skeptical, muttering something about Neil's attitude and scrutinizing the documents as though he might discover evidence to refute Neil's claim.

“Then you are in”, Kevin chimed in simultaneously with Coach Wymack's more formal, "We'll have to go over your records and talk to the school board." 

Coach Wymack gave Kevin a stern look, clearly worn out from Kevin's forgetfulness about who was in charge.

“Ok”, Neil said, not really banking on an instant response. Based on Kevin's expression, he'd likely keep on pushing and nagging everyone until he got his way. 

Poor school board, and poor Wymack, who'd have to deal with it.

Neil was confident that unless something truly unimaginable occurred, Kevin would insist on having him on the team. And this was almost as good as having Wymack’s approval.

“Now, I would appreciate to know what you did to my flat yesterday and why”, Wymack asked, sliding Neil's records aside. It seemed like the business chat had wrapped up.

"Oh, I overheard you had a date, and I thought I'd spice it up a bit to make a good impression." 

For some reason, Andrew couldn't help but burst into laughter at Neil's reply, and even Kevin cracked a smile. However, Wymack let out a bitter chuckle and regretfully stated, "It wasn't a date."

“Either way, I'm pretty sure my cleanliness standards are more on par with Abby’s. How badly did it go yesterday?” 

"Nevermind," the coach sighed and then looked away. Neil was taken aback by how much Wymack must have messed things up for him to react like this. 

Abby must be a saint to tolerate this much incompetence.

"Are we done here? Let's train," Kevin broke the silence, jumping up and trying to intercept Neil. Neil swiftly evaded his advance and slipped past him toward the door.

"Kevin!" Andrew issued a threat with just a single word, "Sit down." 

At the same time, Neil responded with, "I just drove six states over, give me a break."

As much as Neil was crazy about Exy, he had other things on his plate. Getting a scholarship was only the first on his to-do list. It was only April. Neil had time. 

"Hey, do you mind if I check in again in a month?" Neil asked the coach as he paused by the door. Wymack nodded in agreement, waving him off, while Kevin sulked on the couch and Andrew watched with curiosity.

"I can give you a ride," Andrew offered just before Neil headed out. 

Neil had a hunch that it was far from an innocent offer. 

He sensed that Andrew had intentions to interrogate him during the drive, and there was no guarantee he would even get Neil to his destination.

Nah, Mister. You’re not getting me to no secondary location.

Besides his natural distrust of Andrew's real intention, there was also the legality and location of his residence.

Neil didn't need a ride; he only had to go up two floors. It would look rather suspicious. Not that they needed to know any of this.

“What, if you are good enough to play with us, you sure are not too good to ride with us”, Andrew said after Neil shook his head. 

Neil flicked him a cool look and sped up outside the apartment.

Neil rushed out, and by the time Wymack's building disappeared beyond the park's edge, Neil left the Foxes and their too-good memories behind him for the time being, but the lack of a signed contract in his bag felt like an anchor around his neck.

Neil ran, and only after he reached the Fox Tower did he realize he had accidentally autopilot-ed for a route he had never taken but had in his mind. Once again he questioned himself if he really should put so much faith in someone else’s prevision. 

However, what other option did he have? 

To live like a rat until his inevitable death, either buried in an unmarked grave or inside a pig's guts? 

No, Neil didn't believe in fate, but he did believe in chances. After witnessing that parallel future, he preferred to live a short but fulfilling life over merely surviving, like his mother had chosen to do. 

Neil gasped, anxiety filling his guts like poison. It wasn’t too late to reverse his decision. He could vanish, never to return back to Wymack.

Neil could imagine his mother's voice commanding him.

“Don’t look back. Don’t slow down, and don’t trust anyone. Be anyone but yourself, and never be anyone for too long” 

However, he wouldn’t do it, ‘I'm sorry mom’.

He would break all the promises he made to her. 

He would remain Neil Josten until someone came to finish him.

He would choose to trust, he would choose to slow down and make this his home. 

He would look back to this day with fondness, and if someone did come to finish him, he would meet his end satisfied.

The new vows to himself didn’t turn the fear in his veins to self confidence. He knew he would probably revert to his old habits more often than he'd like. 

However, the Fox Tower was here, and so was he, and perhaps that was all he needed to keep moving forward.

The Fox Tower was full of other people, and Neil couldn't return to Wymack's building yet, so he jogged over to the Foxhole Court. As usual, Coach lacked any sense of security. The code was a combination of his and Abby's birth months, and the locks were simple Mortice. 

Neil was inside in less than ten minutes. He created a cozy hideaway in the laundry basket, carefully concealed from anyone's sight.  

The breakdown had left him drained, and he drifted off to sleep faster than his lingering anxiety could have kept him awake. He planned to be long gone before morning practice started.

Neil woke up at four in the morning, feeling like some weight lifted from his shoulders.

Apparently, mentally breaking his promise to his mother was a task he didn't realize he had on his to-do list. This setback delayed his next plan to further establish the information brokerage, or rather, the "travel agency". 

Fine, no use crying over spilled milk.  If he was already here, no harm checking the court, right? 

The locker rooms were decorated in orange and white, with names of people neither he nor Nathaniel had ever met before.

Some names he expected to see, like "Damien" or "Reggie," who had likely finished their degrees before Nathaniel even arrived to play. 

However, he was surprised to come across "Janie" in the girls' locker room. Her locker didn't have a lock yet, so he placed one of his own on it. If he remembered correctly, she was about his size, and she wouldn't be coming back. He could use her stuff, but not now, there being less than two hours until morning practice would start.

He walked out to the court, and even in the dark he could see row after row of orange and white seats disappearing into sky-high rafters. Neil jogged from the inner court to the court walls. He pressed his hands to the thick, cold plastic and looked up, where the scoreboards and replay TVs hung over the court's ceiling, then down to the glossy wood. Orange lines marked the first, half, and far court.

It was perfect, utterly perfect, and Neil felt at once inspired and horrified by the sight of it.

He would play here, he may die here, but that was a problem for another day.

Neil closed his eyes and breathed in, breathed out, imagining the way bodies sounded as they crashed into each other on the court, the way the announcer's voice would only come through in muffled, scattered bursts, the roar of sixty-five thousand people reacting to a goal.

Memories of all Nathaniel games flashed in front of his eye. It was time to make some of his own.

He knew he didn't deserve this, but he wanted and needed it so badly he ached all over.

Neil opened his eyes again, looked at the court, and knew he'd made the right decision. 

The risks didn't matter; the consequences would be worth it. He had to be here. He had to play on this court at least once. He had to know if the crowd screamed loud enough to blow the roof off. He needed to hear the buzzer sound as a ball slammed inside the white goal lines and lit the walls up red.

He took a couple of extra breaths and bolted. Today wasn't the day to play, but one day it would be. And if he played his cards right, that day wouldn't be too far down the road.

Neil got back to his “place”, two floors above Wymack's apartment. He had calls to make and people to scam.

“Hey there, our wonderful Luca. It's Ghost checkin' in, wanted to give you a heads-up and fill you in on the situation. Everything's running smooth on our side, but I figured you oughta be in the loop about what's goin' down," Neil cheerfully said on the phone, his voice taking on the gravelly tone he needed for his "Gangster" persona, all while puffing on his third cigarette.

"Do I really need to hear this at seven in the freaking morning?" Luca whined, clearly awakened from his hangover-induced slumber. With any other member of the Italian mafia, Neil's attitude might have landed him in an early grave.  But Luca was chill, just a bit stupid.

"Of course, yeah, what if the Don asked youse what we were doin'?" Neil lied, knowing that the Dom couldn't inquire about something he wasn't aware of. "We're almost wrapped up gatherin' all the info we need to kickstart our 'travel agency,' and we're pretty much there with the negotiations to snatch up that little joint near the university."

“Ghost, for real, if you're going for that lame attempt at sounding cool, quit it. My ears can't handle this crap. Speak like a normal person.”

“Everything for our special Luca, I sent you a couple of documents to approve.”

“Whatever, I give my seal, just stamp the shit you need, bye”. The call ended abruptly, as Neil had intended. He already had all the information he would require for the time being. Not that Luca would realize there were no spies gathering this info—just Neil's foresight.

Neil chose his future employees, two real:

Sofia Russo - She was once a stripper, and then later, an ex-mistress to one of the Capos. After some time, she grew tired of powerful men dictating her life, and she discovered her passion for management. Now, all she wanted was to lead a quietly illegal working life, as far removed from organized crime as she could manage.

Andrea Colombo - a dumbass hacker, he was good with computers, bad with women, especially bad with knowing on which women he shouldn’t hit. He could have gone up the ranks if he'd just kept his trap shut more or was less… a pain in the ass to the higher-ups. However, he liked doing the small-time gigs for the mafia more than going for the big scores.

Both of them were hand picked by Neil. They were skilled at their respective roles, not ambitious, and as long as the money kept flowing, they had no interest in anything beyond their paychecks.

The other five would be:

Ghost - Neil’s male gangster persona, the main “spy”, number two for Luca’s one.

Amanda Klun - Neil’s female persona, who would be seen by the real employees, number three.

And three translators that would work from home:

Igor Koloshinko - Neil with a Russian accent.

Olivier Chevalier - Neil again but with a French accent.

Isabella Garcia - just guess, with Spanish.

If Neil was going to take on the workload of five people, he believed he should also be compensated for the work of five people. Capitalism seemed wonderful when you could shape the narrative and let someone else handle the taxes. By the way, he was also the one to do Luca’s taxes for this gig, so he had full control of all the money.

He had one more month before the actual employees arrived in June. So, Amanda Klun would require a more extensive wardrobe, maybe another five outfits. How many outfits would a mafia woman need for work, anyway?  

Neil went to tackle the dreaded chore of shopping. New clothes, a new laptop, and a new shop for white-collar crime were all on the agenda.

Neil understood that it wouldn't be wise to return to the Foxhole Court. The season hadn't finished yet, and even though the Foxes were out of the competition, there were still practice sessions ongoing. 

Seriously, there was a risk of running into Kevin and Andrew during their late-night practices if they had already started them.

‘Not unless you plan on playing at three in the morning. Kevin usually wraps up at one,’ he argued with himself. ‘And honestly, what's the worst they could do? Make you do more drills in the middle of the night? Ban you from the court? Yeah, right.’

Moreover, Neil was itching to play. He had completed most of his tasks, bought the property, a charming duplex, and fully furnished it with Amanda's things. He had also pestered Luca with updates on his "spy work," interacted with his associates, and more.

All that was left was Wymack's final decision. 

He had time, and he could afford to enjoy himself a bit. 

Neil woke himself up at two o'clock and jogged to the court as a warm-up. 

The court was as magnificent as he remembered, and it was completely empty, which Neil double-checked to be sure. 

He unlocked Janie's locker and collected her brand-new Exy gear. There was no point in letting it go to waste.  Knowing that what was going to be there wasn't half as good as seeing it, even if it wasn’t originally for him. 

There were five outfits for workouts and a set of both home and away uniforms. Mounds of padding and armor took up most of the space in her giant locker, and the helmet was on the top shelf. Underneath the helmet was something neon orange and shrink-wrapped, and Neil carefully pulled it out to examine it. It opened to reveal a windbreaker that was almost brighter than the stadium paint.

Everything was bathed in orange, and Neil relished it. All of his wardrobe was designed to keep him unnoticed, but this one compelled him to stand out, to take risks, and Neil was tired of  being nothing. 

Neil swapped out his t-shirt for shoulder and chest padding, adjusting the straps to ensure they were snug but not too tight. He then pulled on his jersey over it. Next, he traded his jeans for shorts and sat on one of the benches to secure his shin guards in place. He covered them with long socks and slipped into scuff-free court shoes. 

Afterward, he donned thin cotton gloves, fastening them just above his elbows, and attached arm guards to his forearms. He left his outer gloves by his helmet, ready to take them down to the court. 

Neil tucked his bangs under an orange bandanna. 

The last thing to put on was his neck guard, a thin band with a tricky clasp. It was a pain to deal with and occasionally made him feel like he was choking, but it was worth putting up with if it'd protect his throat from a stray ball.

He went back to the foyer, and unlocked the gear door with a pin. Neil pulled a bucket of balls and a racquet. The racquets were arranged by numbers, a pair for each player with Janie's at the end. Neil unhooked one and gave it a slow spin, testing the weight and feel of it in his hand. It was dark orange with a single white stripe at the base of the head and white rope netting. It smelled brand new and felt like a dream. 

He spent the next hour and a half teaching himself future-Kevin drills. It was enjoyable, but not enough to distract him from noticing someone entering the court. 

The clock showed only 4 in the morning, which was too early for practice.

Please, let it not be Kevin , Neil muttered to himself.

It wasn’t Kevin.

However, Neil wasn't entirely certain it was an improvement, as the intruder turned out to be Seth. 

Bryan Seth Gordon was not someone Nathaniel knew well. From what he could gather from his memories, Seth had a terrible attitude, had trouble getting along with anyone, and that he wouldn't be with the Foxes for long. 

"Janie?" the taller man approached him, appearing quite uncertain. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Good question. Janie had no reason to be here; she should still be on suicide watch, likely confined in some psychiatric facility by her father.

Neil rapidly assessed the potential risk of impersonating her; at most, he'd have to endure two extremely awkward months before Seth's inevitable departure, and he believed he could handle it.

"Oh, hey, I just wanted to practice a bit before I possibly return," Neil altered his voice, making it higher and shyer, and he shifted his demeanor to appear more introverted. With his helmet concealing most of his features, the disguise might just work. 

Seth likely had never met Janie in person, maybe saw her picture once. "I just didn't want to, um, to burden anyone with, um, with my incompetence," Neil stammered, playing the role.

"Damn Kevin Day and his damn high standards," Seth raged, his gestures becoming more animated as he approached Neil. "You just came out of a major event, and it's all his fault you're here working out instead of resting. I heard you lost a shitload of blood!"

Neil nodded, trying to maintain the facade. "Yeah, Kevin can be pretty demanding. I just thought I'd try to catch up a bit, you know? Don't want to slow down the team."

Seth grumbled something in agreement, still looking unsure but apparently buying Neil's act.

"Can you promise to keep this a secret? I'm not supposed to be here, especially not without Coach and Day knowing," Neil implored, playing up the image of the fragile girl.

"Yeah, sure, I'm here to improve too," Seth replied, scratching his head and offering a smile. "Not because someone told me to, just for myself. I can show you the ropes," he said, swinging his racquet slightly in demonstration.

At five o’clock Neil left for his business, leaving Seth to continue his work out.

And it was … nice . Maybe he would rethink not doing anything to stop Gordon’s demise. 

Neil continued to be stupid, practicing with him in the dead of night.

Neil would start at three, and Seth would join him at four. 

Seth had a lot of complaints. Neil wasn't sure who Seth was the angriest at: Abby, Allison, or Andrew's group. His rants went back and forth between all of them without a logical pattern. He stopped only when he ran out of colorful language. 

Finally he threw his hands up in disgust and turned on Neil.

“You know, Janie, at least you seemed like a decent human being”, Seth remarked abruptly. Neil debated with himself whether he should come clean now rather than later, knowing that Seth was in for a rude awakening in a couple of months.

Neil decided to procrastinate and leave the mess for future-Neil to deal with.

After a while, Seth persuaded him to bring Reggie, a goalkeeper, into their practice sessions. Neil had voiced his concerns about lacking experience facing a college-level goalkeeper, so Seth thought it would be helpful to have one on their side.

Reggie was decent when he wasn't wasted, but he rarely joined them. He often said it wasn't worth his while. Seth figured he was probably still sore about getting schooled by a chick and messing with his fragile macho pride.

"Some dudes can't deal with the cards they're dealt," Neil concurred.

They both chuckled, and Seth reassured him that the sexist pigs would all leave next year, so Neil wouldn't have to deal with this crap. Too bad, originally, Neil wouldn't have had this particular problem.

Only ten days were left before Neil would meet Coach again to finalize his addition to the Foxes.

Neil once again got too comfortable with his routine, because the next time he arrived at the Foxhole court, he found himself with company, and it wasn't Gordon surprising him with an early arrival.

It was Kevin, again.

What were the odds that he actually knew what Janie Smalls looked like? Neil could guess around fifty percent. 

Sure, Neil suspected he might have been the one who chose her, but he was pretty sure she was Wymack's pick. So Kevin probably only saw Smalls' picture, just like Seth.

"Oh, hey," Neil slipped into his Janie persona, acting coy.

“You're not Janie. Janie is blonde and 5'-9''." Kevin rapidly closed the gap between them, nearly running.

Neil didn't hesitate; he sprinted away, hoping to avoid encountering Andrew, who was likely following Kevin closely. Unfortunately he had the bad kind of luck. He had chosen poorly. 

He made a wrong choice and was halfway to the inner court exit when he realized he wasn't alone. Andrew swung his racquet, and Neil couldn't stop in time. He jumped over the racquet but slammed hard into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. On the floor, he scrambled to catch his breath.

Andrew smiled down at Neil and tapped two fingers to his temple in salute. “Better luck next time.”

“Fuck you,” Neil spat out in between shallow breaths.

"Hey, runaway, whose racquet did you steal?" Andrew taunted, resting the stick on his shoulder, prepared for another swing.

"Fuck you," Neil repeated, then muttered, "Borrowed."

Wymack's furious voice joined from the other side of the court, but he sounded a thousand miles away. “God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can't have nice things.”

Damn, Coach is here too. Neil didn't see that coming; he anticipated encountering the other two but not Wymack.

“Oh, Coach,” Andrew said over Neil's head. “If he was nice, he wouldn't be any use to us, would he?”

“Andrew's a bit raw on manners,” Wymack moved quickly to stand between Neil and Andrew, who threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug and retreated to give Neil more room. 

Kevin halted beside Andrew, positioned just behind him, standing there like a jittery Chihuahua, a very tall one.

"I'm fine," Neil replied through clenched teeth.

Wymack watched Andrew go before looking Neil over. “Did he break anything?”

"Nothing too crucial,” Neil hissed, carefully pressing hands to his ribs and breathing, feeling the way his muscles screamed in protest. He'd fractured bones enough in the past to know, “I'm fine, Coach”.

"Quit evading me," Kevin stated, giving Neil a pointed look. "You're a Fox now; it's time to stop running."

"God damn it, Kevin," Wymack said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But he's right. You can officially be a Fox; we just need to sign you up."

Andrew cackled, pushing Kevin a few steps back out of Neil’s reach.

And Neil could imagine his mother's rage. He remembered too well the savage yank of her hands in his hair. All these years spent trying to keep moving and hidden, and he was going to destroy their hard work. She would never forgive him for this.

Good, you don't need her forgiveness , a small voice whispered in his mind. Now, it's finally too late to turn back.

Neil swallowed when Wymack invited him into his office. He felt that his future was finally taking shape before his eyes.

Chapter Text

The phone rang just as Kevin and Andrew were getting ready to head out for their little ‘Walk the Broken Raven to Shake His Little Wings’ routine, the one Andrew took Kevin on when his Exy senses were tingling from lack of exercise. 

Kevin, of course, wasn't permitted to play on the court yet, but merely walking around visibly helped alleviate his anxiety. Who said living as an Exy celebrity didn’t have its downsides. 

Kevin had yet to address any of his problems, preferring to drown them in a bottle, literally, or longing for some stickball like it could solve all his problems.

‘Too many balls to the head,’ as he used to tell him. In response, Kevin would roll his eyes, which only made Andrew's smile grow even wider.

It was Coach, and unlike others, he only called when things were truly going south, so Andrew reluctantly picked up the call.

"Tell me it wasn't your crew that broke into my apartment and did this," Coach's voice sounded grave on the other end. Andrew idly played with his car keys and checked his nails, seemingly unfazed by the conversation, while Kevin shot him an impatient glare.

"So accusatory, and I didn’t even lift any fingers today," Andrew retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Why is it that when something happens it is always your gang?”

"We were at our dorm, as usual, minding our own business," Andrew stated, putting his phone on speaker and gesturing for Kevin to come closer so he could join the conversation.

“Bullshit, I’m a simple man, and when I see a pattern, I follow it!" Coach's frustration was apparent as his tone grew louder.

This year had been eventful, with incidents involving drugging teammates and threats with a knife, not to mention all the extra troubles Day’s arrival brought them. It was understandable why Wymack was so on edge. Had Andrew not depleted every bit of empathy he possessed by the tender age of fourteen, he might have experienced some pity for his coach. Unfortunately, he was completely devoid of any such sentiment.

“Whatever bad thing you imagine we did, we didn’t this time, but my curiosity is piqued”, Andrew replied. Kevin paced nervously through the dorm, like a dog anticipating its walk.

"Someone broke into my place, cleaned it up, left some food, and even set up some music," Wymack explained slowly, as if he himself was starting to realize how odd the sequence of events sounded.

"Did they happen to take any alcohol? What did they steal?" Andrew inquired, gesturing for Kevin to hold on a bit longer, which prompted an exasperated sigh from Kevin.

"No, and when I said they cleaned it up, I meant it quite literally. They threw away trash, organized documents, and even folded laundry," Coach elaborated, sounding increasingly perplexed as he spoke.

"Sorry, Coach, I might be a bit crazy, but not the kind of crazy to clean someone else's place. Maybe even a burglar couldn't stand the mess in your apartment. You can see it as an accomplishment," Andrew quipped, casually tossing his car keys up and down, while Kevin's eyes tracked the movement.

Speaking of insanity. Wordlessly, Andrew nudged his hand towards Kevin with clear indication. Kevin popped one pill into his open palm, which Andrew swallowed dry.

"Maybe it's them," Kevin interjected, clearly growing impatient. "The Moriyamas, maybe they left some secret code only I can crack."

Damn Kevin. Could he have mentioned this before Andrew took his happy pill? These things came with plenty of amusing side effects, like an inability to focus or take danger seriously.

Sometimes he almost regretted only addressing the cops as ‘Piggies’ and the shrink as ‘Druggie’ on Nicky’s assault case. Almost .

The claim seemed rather self-centered, even for Kevin, and a bit far-fetched, especially considering he wasn’t the one diagnosed as clinically insane. 

Oh Kevin.

"So, did they decide to intimidate me with a tidy house?" Coach inquired, putting Andrew's thoughts in a friendlier tone. 

You know what, why deny himself this pleasure ? 

"Perhaps we should extend an invitation to our dorms; Gordon's room looks like it's in dire need of a cleanup, especially after his recent relapse.”

Kevin shot another one of those ridiculous glares at him, as if he believed they held any significance to Andrew. As if he genuinely believed that Andrew cared. 

He didn't.

"We'll go take a look, but don't touch anything," Kevin said into the phone, setting down his exercise bag.

As always so demanding, never learned how to ask in the little cult of his, always expected his wishes to be fulfilled.

“Will we?” Andrew cocked his head, catching Kevin’s green eyes. “ What is the magic word?”

“Now?” Kevin answered with a hesitant tone. At least he was smart enough to not utter the wrong word.

"Let's go," Andrew finally said, sliding the car keys into his pocket. It wasn't because Kevin had asked nicely , but because of Wymack.

Andrew’s life was full of lousy adults, Coach never was one of them, only competing with Bee as the un-shittiest adult he knew. Not that the bar was so high. That and having a reason to avoid the Foxhole just to witness Kevin playing the role of Juliet to the court's Romeo.

The situation played out exactly as Wymack had described: garbage had been cleaned, food was served, and the atmosphere was strangely romantic.

Kevin scoured the place like a Watson set loose by Sherlock, brimming with enthusiasm. He meticulously connected the clues to his theory than otherwise.

"I found it!" Kevin waved a piece of paper. "It was under the plate."

"Oh no, they're here for me. I knew I shouldn't have come," Kevin spiraled into a panic, resuming his pacing. Maybe they should attach a generator to him; that way, Kevin might be somewhat more useful.

“Don’t look like their style,” Wymack pointed, snatching the note to see for himself.

"They knew you finished practice at five," Kevin exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if it were the revelation of a lifetime.

"It's not exactly classified information," Coach calmly explained, sliding the note to the side. He deftly rearranged the cupcakes and soup on the table, creating more space. 

Finally, he eased himself into the armchair with a controlled motion. 

"They hoped you enjoyed their present. They wished that the message finds you well. This is unmistakably a threat. I know how the Master loves subtlety," Kevin listed his interpretations firmly, his pace quickening as he made each assertion, a tinge of panic creeping into his voice.

“It is a nice gesture, objectively speaking, not exactly setting off any alarm bells," Wymack countered.

Andrew observed quietly as they debated the meaning of the writing, discreetly savoring the untouched cupcakes. He sat down, taking a moment to enjoy the unexpected treat.

"Don't eat them," Coach paused, catching Andrew in the act of devouring the food. "It's the food the intruder prepared; it may be poisoned."

"I'm already a troubled mind; what's a little more poison to add to the mix?" Andrew replied, while Kevin scoffed, clearly irritated that Wymack was momentarily distracted from him.

They were exceptionally delicious cupcakes, and it would be a shame to waste them. 

Andrew indulged in another one. 

The older man grumbled about how he wouldn't bother taking him to the ER if he ended up puking later. Andrew could tell it was an empty threat. 

Since he was already in this fine establishment, he might as well indulge in the full course. Andrew poured himself some whiskey from Wymack's stash and then did the same for Kevin. Kevin downed his two fingers of whiskey in a single gulp, as if it could provide him with courage. But he was not in Kansas anymore, nor was he a lion.

"So, who did you bring here?" Andrew asked, nonchalantly taking another bite of a cupcake. Coach sighed, realizing it was a lost cause. 

Andrew might not be a great detective like Kevin, but he could still pick up on a few things, such as the unlikelihood of their Coach making a fuss if he had witnessed this scene alone.

"We should really focus on the threat," Kevin interjected, visibly irritated as he sat down on the sofa.

They ignored him.

"The Dean," Coach sounded defeated, "we had planned to discuss the budget. We still only have one spot for next year."

Oh yes, Wymack had tried to secure additional players, but because the current ones were so exceptionally skilled , the university hadn't allocated more funds for new recruits. 

Andrew preferred it that way; the fewer the merrier.

More importantly.

“So you choose the path of seduction to secure more money," Andrew continued with a wry grin. "Bold!" 

He couldn't help but snicker at the thought of the expression on the Dean's face when he walked in. The entire apartment looked like a scene from a romcom. 

Kevin emitted some inhuman noises. 

"You're quite the romantic—or a gold digger. Didn't think you had the balls." Wymack had some DILF qualities, maybe the Dean did dig it.

Wymack was not amused. 

Kevin coughed, trying to conceal his giggles. Coward .

Andrew burst into full-volume laughter. This situation was utterly absurd. If it were indeed the Yakuza, as Kevin had tried to convince them, they seemed to prefer to destroy Wymack with embarrassment rather than resorting to a hitman.

Economically smart.

"As I said, it feels more like a prank than a genuine threat," the older man must have decided to ignore their mockery. "Now, if you're done laughing your asses off, go to sleep."

"It could still be the Moriyamas, even if they accidentally set you up on a date," Kevin returned to his far-fetched theories. Wymack rolled his eyes, once again ignoring the nonsense that Kevin was spouting.

“I guess, we could call Coach after his meeting, maybe it would be another successful date”, Andrew pointed out. The note had a specified time for a meeting.

"We should come too," Kevin asserted, getting up with a sense of purpose. "Just in case Coach misses something if it's indeed them."

"Sure," Andrew agreed, more out of curiosity than any belief that it was actually the Yakuza, no matter how hard Kevin tried to make it seem that way.

"I don't recall inviting you," Wymack scoffed, watching the boys move toward the door with a dissatisfied grunt.

“We'll return here with you immediately after practice," Kevin disregarded Coach's complaints, seeking confirmation from Andrew. 

Andrew nodded; life was too dull to not check it out.

Wymack let out a groan but didn't press the matter further, perhaps on the same page as Andrew about how dangerous it could be. Which was not really.

“Soo…… did you get more money?” Andrew inquired, preparing to head off for a good night's rest.

“No”

The sound of laughter was the last thing Wymack heard as the door closed behind the boys.

Because Andrew knew how to keep good things to himself, he didn’t share with the rest of the Foxes about Wymack’s failed attempt to get more strikers, or a date with a new sugar daddy. 

Nicky might have been itching to know why he and Kevin had returned so soon, and why the tall man looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Nevertheless, one stern look from Andrew quashed his curiosity. As for Aaron, if he caught wind of anything out of the ordinary, he just brushed it off as usual, the little prick that he was.

Time passed, and the moment of the meeting with Coach's mysterious prankster drew nearer.

Andrew took his medication the moment he and Kevin got in. Despite the pill's various annoying side effects, it did have one benefit: an increase in stamina. Andrew might not have been able to figure out the newcomer or their purpose, but he was damn sure could beat him given a chance.

Wymack shot them a glare as they entered. Andrew, as usual, couldn't be bothered to use the key Coach had given him, instead opting to break in. 

Wymack sighed, clearly used to Andrew's antics. He was probably becoming too predictable.

"Knock, knock, Coach. We've come to ruin your meet-cute," Andrew swung open the door, causing it to crash against the wall with a resounding bang. Kevin, following him, began to inspect the apartment once more, as if he anticipated ninjas coming to get him. 

The flat still looked the same as yesterday. Even Wymack couldn't turn a place into a disaster area that quickly. 

Andrew secretly liked it, though he'd rather eat his own foot than admit to anyone that he enjoyed neatness. Nevertheless, he did relish the fact that he had a clean sofa and coffee table to lurk around on.

"I still don't remember inviting you," Wymack said, though he gestured for them to take a seat.

"You should open the door with a bat," Kevin suggested, "just in case they're armed. Since you sold the gun, a bat would be the next best thing."

Andrew still dismissed Kevin's accusation, but the idea of using a blunt weapon did have its merits. He had some personally cherished memories involving that bat. 

All his memories were memorable, whether he liked it or not.

Wymack had once given him a concussion with that very bat when Andrew first broke in. Since then, they had established a system where Andrew made a lot of noise during his break-ins, and Wymack stomped around loudly in response. Then both of them pretended it wasn't intentional.

After that first time, and a bonding experience in the ER, Andrew started stealing things just to see if he could find Wymack's breaking point. He never discovered the limit that would push Coach over the edge. Even after he stole the gun for the fourth time, Wymack ended up giving it away. At worst, Andrew got Wymack to yell at him, but even then, Wymack never crowded him. The nosy bastard had a level of patience and restraint that Andrew couldn't help but respect. 

It was after all this that Andrew deemed him worthy. Among other shit Andrew had put him through.

"I doubt it's really necessary," the coach said, amused with Kevin's caution. 

It wasn't the first or the last time Kevin confused regular misfortune with a plot to scare him.

"If you're out, then I'm out," the self-centered prick explained himself.  

Never change, Kevin.

"Fine," Wymack complied, mostly to ease Kevin's anxiety. He did worse things than that to ease his Foxes' fears. Like letting Kevin bring up the threat of the Mafia to the team, or allowing Andrew to break court orders.

Then they waited, until exactly at six o’clock someone knocked on the door.

Quite punctual, the trickster.

"Go hide in Coach's office, if it's them, it's better to make yourself scarce," Andrew instructed Kevin as Wymack retrieved his bat. "Don't come out until we're sure it's safe."

Kevin reluctantly entered the office. "I'll listen in case it's someone I know," his idiot said before closing the door.

Andrew doubted it, but whatever made Kevin feel like he was in the loop.

Wymack came back with a pretty-boy, too small to be an actual threat to the big man. 

With long, disheveled light brown hair tied up in a messy bun, he had a lean build designed for flexibility rather than strength. His attire seemed worn, with clothing that hung loosely on his slender frame. These clothes likely had seen better days 5,000,000 washes ago.

A runaway.

Andrew could recognize one merely by observing the way the boy tightly clung to his bag and looked around. His mind seemed to already calculate every escape route possible.

Coach probably felt stupid carrying a bat for such a small creature. 

Kevin's paranoia led him to believe that everything revolved around him, and it seemed like he was wrong. Again . 

Who would have guessed? Everyone except Kevin.

Unless the Moriyamas either underestimate Wymack or they were smart enough to understand that Coach would sooner let the boy beat him than lay a hand on someone like him.

No, this is stupid, stupid thought. Andrew scolded himself. He knew he had to cease allowing Kevin's delusions to influence him and silence the little, disapproving Kevin within his mind.

The brunette scanned the hall until his eyes landed on Andrew, at which point his expression relaxed.

How unusual , it was the first time since juvie that he wasn’t categorized as the bigger threat in the room.

"Hey, Andrew," he offered Andrew a slight wave, his face devoid of any emotion.

"I'm Aaron," he introduced himself, thinking that the boy might feel more at ease if he believed he was dealing with the less intimidating twin.

"In that case, I'll have to ask Coach Wymack why he has the wrong twin high as a kite."

Cheeky .  

He questioned himself, ‘Was he all bark, or did he also know how to bite?’

Coach put an end to any further attempts Andrew might have considered to confuse him by acknowledging that he had identified the correct twin. 

Buzzkill .

"So, what brought you here, Mister...?"  Wymack finally asked the good question. Next should be what this child is doing here cleaning other people's apartments? It felt weak for intimidation tactics. Maybe a bribe instead?

Then the stupid Kevin-fucking-Day got out, even after Andrew instructed him to stay in the safe zone of Coach's office. He should have left him back at the dorm, and now he was tempted to smack him in his foolish face. 

Given the shady deal that shackled him to this asshole, a sly swing that accidentally went a bit too far would be just perfect. And look, the new kid has a racquet sticking out from his bag. It could leave a bruise on Kevin. Make him whine. 

Whiny little bitch.  

Maybe then he'd remember not to put himself in uncertain danger. Size is not an indicator to deadliness, Andrew knows , just because the boy was smaller doesn't mean he is harmless.

Kevin managed to fall and take the new guy down with him. But just before the collision, Andrew caught a glimpse of the look in the boy's eyes. It wasn't a shock or surprise; it was annoyance. Not just any kind of annoyance, but the kind you reserve for someone you know. 

They had met before.

Kevin has a lot to explain.

"Are you here to play?" Kevin asked, oblivious to the clear signs of dissatisfaction on the boy’s face.

Somebody is not so thrilled to see you, Kevin.

“Fuck off, Day, I not gonna do it again, we’re not gonna do it all night like last time."

Another bark from the mystery guy. But what did he just say?

 ”You weren't prepared enough, so we had to keep going all night,” Kevin barked back.

What.

“I limped for two days after that."

The Hell.

"If you had properly stretched beforehand, you wouldn't have been limping,"

 Is this conversation?

Andrew had questions, and two unfortunate souls to interrogate. 

No really, is this Kevin's secret ex? 

Wymack interrupted their amusing discussion with a cough.

"Josten, Neil," the hindrance finally provided a name.

"I can see you two are acquainted," Wymack noted, glancing between the new gremlin and his highness Kevin the idiot.

“I am also interested in who is this fellow with whom you apparently spend the night,” Andrew said, his attention now fixed on the new problem that Kevin had presented him with. 

One which Kevin would have to explain. In all the time they spend together Kevin should have mentioned this particular person, but he didn’t. Why?

"Not just one night, but a whole two weeks," Kevin declared, inadvertently digging his own grave even deeper. The nuisance simply shrugged, as if Kevin hadn't accidentally confessed to their affair.

"Kevin, your taste seems to be going downhill fast—first Riko, and now this?" Andrew grinned,  gesturing towards the pest.

Not that he took Kevin by his word, the fool probably didn’t even register what he was implying. He would've thought Kevin was flirting if he didn’t witness Kevin’s phone calls with Thea. The woman clearly chose him for looks rather than his seduction abilities. 

"Yeah, he's a bit on the short side, but he's got the stamina to make up for it," Kevin quipped, pacing back and forth across the hall, a nervous tick of his. Andrew exchanged a skeptical glance with Wymack, recognizing that Kevin was stalling. Andrew made a mental note to pressure Kevin to spill the beans after they got rid of the extra.

"Riko and I recruited him to the Ravens last Christmas, so we trained him for most of it," Kevin continued. This clarified where they had met, but it didn't explain why Kevin seemed torn between treating this as his worst nightmare or a great blessing.

“So, he's a birdie?” Andrew asked, considering that perhaps Riko had decided to delegate his bullying tactics to someone else. Andrew would have chosen someone with more … meat, but who is he to know what is going through the delusional Raven’s head.

"I'm not a Raven," Josten asserted. 

Of course, that's what he would say. Who would readily admit to being a mole?

"And the last time I checked, Riko pointing at me and declaring he wanted me isn't exactly legally binding," the pest added, looking at Kevin. 

He is a funny one . Too bad Andrew didn't want to laugh.

Kevin and Josten continued their back-and-forth about whether Josten should or shouldn't be here. Andrew found himself siding with Kevin on this matter. Unfortunately, Kevin seemed to be leaning more towards Josten's side in the end.

Wymack brought their argument to a halt by getting straight to the point. "Are you here to join the Foxes?" Wymack gestured for the new guy to take a seat next to Andrew. 

Exy, what a stupid reason to be here . If he was so good that the Ravens wanted him, why the Foxes? Andrew chose to ignore the irony.

However, this didn't prevent Kevin from panicking once more.

"I'm not even the only one in this room who told him to screw off." Smartass . But he was right, what indeed made this gremlin so special?  

"Riko needs to hear 'no' for the sake of his healthy development, just like they say in 'the baby whisperer,'" Andrew never missed an opportunity to sneak in a sly dig at Riko.

"Andrew was a lost cause, with his criminal record likely being a hindrance to the Ravens. It was quite simple to make Riko lose interest in him," Kevin explained with a sigh of frustration, ”It’s not the same”.  

Is it though? Kevin

"So harsh , and to someone who took care of you all this time," Andrew deadpanned.

He cast a sidelong glance at his newest problem. Josten wasn't on the team yet, so perhaps Wymack would turn a blind eye if some unfortunate incident were to happen to him. Coach didn't hide the bat, and with a few steps and one swing, the runaway would have one less kneecap.

"So, just because I'm more skilled at committing crimes than Andrew, you and Riko decided to stalk me," the pest commented as he settled next to Andrew. 

How amusing The sly criminal decided to break in; however, the date scene aspect remained enigmatic.

Josten sat as far aways as he could on the sofa, a happy coincidence that it happened to be precisely where Andrew preferred him to be.

Coach was interested in what criminal activities the gremlin participated in. Did it even matter? It was difficult to find a Fox without some funny business going on.

Kevin yapped again about how big bad Riko is going to come and get them. 

Strange , Kevin wasn't troubled by the nuisance itself, but by the implication that Riko might come to retrieve this boy. 

Josten on the other hand wasn’t concerned with this. Either Riko was on his best behavior while training him, or he had more tricks up his sleeve. 

Andrew bet on the latter.

“Enough with the Riko drama, folks. Let's stick to the point,” Wymack brushed aside Kevin's worries with a gesture. "Have a seat," he directed Kevin, motioning for him to join the rest.

As always Kevin took more space than what was allocated to him. He then used his signature move of examining the newcomer's muscles without bothering to ask for permission.

Kevin. Kevin . Kevin and his very poor understanding of personal boundaries. It only took him two months to get into his head that most Foxes didn’t appreciate his guiding touches. Even sweet Renee told him with a too sharp smile that he shouldn't put hands on anyone without consent no matter how much better he thinks he can make them feel. Quite generous of her considering the circumstance. 

He personally dug this point across with a knife to the chest. 

Others, as well, often resorted to violence to force Kevin to back off.

But this boy, he let Kevin touch him.

He wasn't afraid. Andrew knew too well the feeling of being frozen in place, unable to react; it wasn’t this. Josten kept himself from both him and Wymack, maintaining a careful distance, prepared to make a quick dash for the door. 

But Kevin? Not a trace of discomfort, just pure annoyance. 

"Damn, why are you so hard?" Kevin cursed, pushing down on Josten's back, causing it to crack.

Again, what the Fuck?

"When we're done, I'm taking you to bed to fix this," Kevin added, causing Josten's annoyance to escalate into sheer fury.

Andrew and Wymack exchanged a glance just to confirm that they hadn't misheard Kevin.

Exercising remarkable restraint, Josten didn't tear into Kevin; he simply responded with a cold tone. "I'll have to pass on your generous muscle massage offer, now let me have my conversation in peace.”

“Are you planning to finish it with a happy ending?” Andrew stared at Josten’s boring brown eyes.  In his defense, it was simply too good of an opportunity to let slip by. 

Angering the pest was just a bonus.

"More like a 'Kevin's not making it out alive' finale," Josten slowly replied, totally pissed. 

So much anger for such a tiny creature. Kevin of course was oblivious to a fault.

The gremlin emerged from the sofa, scurrying away from Kevin as if he were a mosquito. Coach took pity on him and swapped seats.

Afterwards they all were engaged in conversations about mundane topics like Josten’s academic success, credibility, booooring .

“Now, I would appreciate to know what you did to my flat yesterday and why”, Wymack asked, finally getting to the solution of the mystery. The true reason Andrew had come here instead of opting for another exciting walk around the court with Kevin.

"Oh, I overheard you had a date, and I thought I'd spice it up a bit to make a good impression," the hindrance answered. What a let down. Josten may have given a boring explanation but a brilliant execution. It was genuinely funny. Perhaps Andrew would wait a while before tearing him apart.

The image of their Coach bringing the Dean to discuss business while the house looked like they were ready to talk about pleasure still amused him in the right way. 

Ignoring the laughter from him and Kevin, the other two continued their conversation.

Wymack denied the option of it being a date, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“Either way, I'm pretty sure my cleanliness standards are more on par with Abby’s. How badly did it go yesterday?” Josten complained.

The humor faded away as Andrew wondered why this new guy knew Abby's nickname. In all official settings the nurse was either called Abigail or Winfield. Abby was only for the Foxes.

It was a strange detail that no one else seemed to have noticed. He changed his mind, he should remove this problem sooner than later. The bat was still near the door.

Now that he's mulling it over, he's starting to wonder how the hell he even knew where the coach lived. That's not something you'd just stumble upon, especially outside the university.

"Are we done here? Let's train," Kevin piped in, jumping up, but the gremlin slipped away, stopping near the door. 

Bad Kevin, too many balls to the head.

"Kevin!" Andrew threatened. "Sit down."

Kevin grudgingly obliged. Muttering about how nobody takes practice as seriously as he does around here.

At the same time, Josten responded with, "I just drove six states over, give me a break. " Was he too poor to afford a plane, and why go to such lengths for a grade ‘E’ team?

The nuisance asked to come back in a month. 

The coach approved. 

Kevin approved.

Andrew did not fucking approve The pest better come back never.

"I can give you a ride," Andrew offered just before the brunette headed out. 

It would be nice to have a chill one-on-one conversation with him. 

Just Andrew, his favorite knives, and the bat. 

Can't forget the bat.

The gremlin didn’t take the bait. Too bad. Andrew would have to improvise.

“What, if you are good enough to play with us, you sure are not too good to ride with us”, Andrew taunted, but their newest problem just glared at him before running outside.

Now Andrew had time to demand some well-deserved answers, and he'd have to shake the black-haired Striker before he'd spill all of them out.

“Kevin.” Andrew turned to his first interrogation victim. “Explain.”

Wymack chimed in, "I'd also appreciate some more information about your buddy. With all due respect, he didn't exactly strike me as Raven material." 

It was evident that Wymack also expected Kevin to provide better explanations.

"So, do you know the Arizona Rattlers?" Kevin asked. It was an interesting starting point that piqued Andrew's curiosity.

"Phoenix's pro Exy team?" the coach asked, also noting the unusual change of topic.

Andrew raised his brow, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

"Yes, but they also serve as a front for something else," Kevin continued, his nervousness causing his leg to bounce. He avoided making eye contact with anyone in the room. "I don't know the details, but they're connected to the main branch of the Moriyamas. They occasionally recommend Exy players to the Master. Usually, it's players with talents or connections that could be of use to him."

“What hidden talents does your 'wonder boy' possess, Kevin? Enough for both you and your highness Riko to drag yourself to Millport?” Andrew inquired, glancing at Wymack and then back at Josten's stats. 

Josten had only one year of playing under his belt, and although he possessed speed, his precision needed enhancement. While his performance wasn't poor given his level of experience, it fell far short of meeting Kevin's high standards.

"The master didn’t tell us. Riko conducted an investigation on him, and we assumed it might be related to his mother, the connection they wanted us to establish," Kevin began, getting up and pacing across the hall, hinting that he was about to share some unsettling information.

"He and his mother have been homeless since nine years ago, and there are no records of either of them having any jobs meanwhile. There aren't many jobs a single mother could do under the table while constantly on the move. They changed residences to ten different homeless centers in a span of seven years," Kevin revealed.

“Prostitution?” Andrew asked because Coach wouldn’t dare to suggest it.

"No, maybe.  It's not just that. No one saw his mother in Millport, but Riko found footage of a woman who resembled him visiting the bank every week to deposit cash. There were no accounts in Jostens’ names, so we don't know who received the money. The woman vanished as soon as we reached out to Neil Josten, but we were not sure if it was really his mother," Kevin elaborated. "Based on the footage, Riko estimated that she transferred at least a million dollars."

It was quite the troubling info, Andrew wasn’t thrilled to add another youth with maybe gang connection to the already rag-tag Foxes. Especially one that intrigued the Moriyamas. 

“He doesn't look like someone who's got access to a million bucks”, Wymack rightfully pointed out. There was nothing about the gremlin's appearance that suggested care, mommy dearest didn’t share her good fortune. 

"He didn't," Kevin broke it down.  "When we located him, he was either sleeping on deserted rooftops or in the locker room. As for the latter, his coach informed us about it, but it was still largely based on our assumptions."

Damn, Kevin.

Andrew knew that from this point, Wymack would do anything in his power to bring this kid onto the team, even if he had to hire him as the team's "pet gangster." Wymack always had a  weak spot for strays, especially when one was homeless, neglected by parents, and in trouble. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity to help someone with such a sad story, and Kevin likely emphasized it on purpose. 

Andrew would probably need to remind Kevin that they didn't need any more wannabe criminals; he and Renee had already taken up all the available positions. Maybe he'd have to tap Kevin on the head with the bat, which was still near the door for a more visual reminder.

Wymack sighed. "How good is he?" The coach was self-aware enough to realize that he was going to add this person to the team. 

Kevin didn't give a direct response, instead he arched an eyebrow and quipped, "I wouldn't mind sharing the court with him." In Kevin's vernacular, that was high praise.  

"So, we've got this striker, right? Yakuza vouched for him, reasons still in the dark. Maybe he's got a mom tied to some fat-cash gang, he's homeless, and yet he ended up here instead of picking some big-name team," Wymack boiled it down. "Sounds like a real Fox to me."

Andrew didn't see any appealing prospects in Coach's words; it all seemed like more hassle than this scrawny Striker was worth. However, he couldn't ignore the sly glances exchanged between Kevin and Wymack. They were gearing up to sweet-talk the University into tossing the troublemaker onto the roster.

“I'm gonna check something”, the coach rose up and headed to his office with Josten’s records. Maybe already doing some calls. 

“Now, Kevin, what are the odds that Josten is Riko’s little present for your second year here?” Andrew inquired. It wasn’t exactly the conversation Coach would like to be part of. Andrew wanted all the intel Kevin had on Josten. 

Andrew thought that Renee Walker was the shadiest character he'd ever crossed paths with, but the gremlin had outpaced her by a country mile.

"Fifty-fifty," Kevin mused, stopping his pacing. "He's not fond of Riko, but Riko has threatened his grandma at least once, and it worked. If he's working with the Ravens, it's not a wholehearted collaboration."

Great. This didn’t help at all to assess Josten's threat level, it just dialed up his suspicion factor.

"He's too mouthy," Kevin remarked, unhelpfully. "I doubt he could hide his hostility if he was really Riko's spy." 

The gremlin could still be here to gather information for the Ravens.

"Did Josten follow in his mother's supposed line of work?" Andrew knew that the weak link in his group when it came to information was Nicky. If the pest was some sort of seductress, Andrew needed to keep Nicky as far away from him as possible.

Or teach Nicky to keep it in his mouth …  and in his pants. 

“He was too prudish for that”, Kevin remarked. "He made a fuss about Riko and me walking around naked, and refused to shower with us. A bit like you and your family, I guess."

Kevin. Kevin. Kevin, with his peculiar cult upbringing, seemed oblivious to the concept of boundaries. In this scenario, Josten appeared to be the one with more conventional behavior. 

Andrew recalled Kevin's initial behavior at the beginning of their partnership. He was going commando and failed to grasp why others were bothered by it. In fact, the first time it occurred, Aaron accidentally spat his Monster energy drink onto Kevin's crotch. Kevin also didn't seem to comprehend why he couldn't have phone sex with Thea in the middle of the room while everyone else was still present. Unlike Nicky, who at least had the courtesy to shoo everyone out of the room first. Then again, Nicky's enthusiasm often negated any attempt at subtlety.

It was a rare moment when Andrew found himself actually appreciating the Ravens fans who had message-bombed Kevin's old phone, forcing him to switch to a new one that Thea didn't know about.

This was just a couple of examples of the normal Raven behaviors Kevin had to unlearn when he entered the real world.

"But maybe we should still ask him to get some STD tests, just to be sure," Kevin started pacing around the room, rubbing his face in interest.

Andrew was especially intrigued to see if this inquiry would be the breaking point that provoked Josten to lash out at Kevin. 

No, he needed to stop people from punching Kevin, even if it meant missing out on some personal satisfaction. 

They had their deal.  

"There's still the possibility that he was recommended solely for his Exy talent," Kevin added, slowing down his pacing. "The recommendation video showed him taking down a backliner three times his size."

"Is he the real shit, though?" Andrew wondered, shifting on the sofa as he spoke.

“He also helped me a little bit”, Kevin said, rubbing the cast on his hand. “On the last night, he woke me up and told me Riko was going to rack me. Then he started spewing all this info on how to deal with a busted bone. It came in handy when Riko did break my hand; I at least knew what no to do.” 

“How?”

“He told me he knew what domestic violence looks like.” 

“A man can only have so many issues,” Andrew mused, unsure whether he was talking about his present Problem, the self-centered prick, or the more recent nuisance, the pest.

Wymack came back to escort them out, explaining that he needed some privacy to have a conversation with Josten's school and coach. It would have saved Andrew some time if Wymack had allowed him to eavesdrop. However, Coach had a strict policy of not disclosing information without consent. 

His unwavering discretion was both a blessing and a curse.

Whatever additional data Wymack  extracted from Josten’s previous residences he didn’t share. And Kevin proved to be of little help since he couldn't recall any phone numbers from Josten's previous team. At best he only provided trivial details like grades and Exy statistics, which were entirely unhelpful in determining the potential threat level of someone.

Additionally, he mentioned that apart from Josten's enigmatic mother, he had a grandmother with dementia, but no traces of any father-figure. There were no addresses or phone numbers to be found, as Coach had uncovered. There was no means to further question the pest for more information.

He almost thought he would need to hijack Josten’s next scheduled meeting at the end of the school year. But then Reggie, the exciting goalkeeper, said something strange in the post practice discussion.

"Too bad I'm graduating," Reggie quipped to Damien, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. It was probably one last attempt to rile up the girls, as he continued, "Next year, you'll have a real lady; she's well-mannered, reserved, and that plump ass. Shame she's as flat as a board." Damien giggled like the dumbass he was.

Andrew couldn't fathom what had prevented Dan and Allison from severely reprimanding Reggie. However, Renee once admitted to him that it was only the grace of God that had prevented her from delivering a thoroughly deserved blow to Reggie's family jewels, one that his ancestors would feel too. 

How amusing that the higher power that Reggie doesn't believe in, is the one thing saving his bloodline.

Reggie should consider himself lucky, because Andrew was fully aware that she could have actually carried it out.

"Ew, thank goodness you two won't be around next year," Allison said, flicking her hair and flashing the boys a nasty smile. "Is this your pathetic attempt to cry for help after totally wasting your college time?"

“Don’t talk about her like this,” as usual, Seth stepped in to have Allison's back, "but seriously, she's a babe.” He then turned to Allison. "I think you'd get along with her."

Allison rolled her eyes and huffed.

"You're such a simp," Damien remarked, with Reggie cackling right beside him. They were like the Exy rendition of "dumb and dumber," feeding off each other's unfunny jokes.

The odd part was that Andrew was aware of one male, Neil Josten, joining the team, and, truth be told, he did have a nice ass; however, Reggie was a raging homophobe, and the same could be said for Damien and Seth. Andrew didn’t see them openly lusting after another man. Maybe Coach did find a way to secure more funds, proving that you're never too old to be a sugar baby.

Wonderful , now they would have two new additions to the team. Kevin may have pissed himself from excitement. 

“What do you mean we are getting a lady?”  Coach intervened. 

So he didn’t sell himself. Good.

"Oh, crap," Seth groaned, slapping his own mouth. “It was supposed to be a secret, Janie  asked me not to tell anyone.” 

"Janie Smalls?!" Dan asked with wide eyes. "I thought she was still on suicide watch." Her eyebrows shot up, showing surprise.

"Yeah, but she's back in town," Reggie grinned, oozing with smugness. "She's just a bit embarrassed to showcase her skills. Lucky for her, I've been giving her some pointers."

"Ha," Seth retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm. "What kind of pointers are those? Last time you showed up to practice with us, she wiped the floor with you," he added, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

Disregarding Seth's unusual protectiveness over the new girl, Andrew could gather from Wymack's expression that Janie Smalls shouldn't be here. Moreover, no reputable psychiatric ward would release her so soon. Given the amount of blood she had lost, she shouldn't be in any condition to play or even score against Reggie, even if he barely met the minimum standard for what could be considered a college athlete.

"And how did she appear to be?" Coach inquired, his tone reflecting concern.

"Alright, I guess," Seth conceded as he leaned back in his chair. "She changed her hair color and seemed more confident, though she's still far from where she should be, mentally." His tone grew more serious as he continued, "I believe that living with Alli and the girls will do her some good."

"Oh, she was blonde before. What color is her hair now?" Allison chimed in, leaning forward with a keen interest. Allison might have been a bitch, but she didn't target the smaller prey. 

So, at the moment, "Janie" was safe from the infamous Reynolds jealousy strike.

"Brunette, and believe me, she's an eight," Reggie interjected. "Maybe not a ten like Allison, but she more than compensates with her personality." Damien nodded in agreement. "Definitely better than the other two," they said, turning their gaze towards Dan and Renee.

In true Foxes fashion, a fierce brawl erupted among the seniors. Dan landed a solid punch on Reggie, causing Damien to jump in and try to break it up. Matt rushed to assist Dan, while Seth and Allison joined the fight. Renee kept a watchful eye, ensuring no one crossed the line. Wymack allowed the chaos to continue for a few more intense moments before he stepped in to forcefully put an end to the scuffle.

Andrew simply kept a watchful eye to ensure that none of his crew attempted to join the brawl.

Aaron was on his phone, tapping away and ignoring everyone, while Nicky only seemed to care if the subject in question was male, so there were no issues from them. However, Kevin was brimming with energy.

"I knew he couldn't stay away from the court for too long," Kevin whispered into Andrew's ear, making sure not to touch, finally learning his lesson.

While Kevin spoke, he cast a side glance at Allison, who was sinking nails into Damien's arm while Wymack pulled her away. Matt was keeping both Dan and Reggie separated. Renee merely needed to give Seth a single stern glare to keep him in place. After making sure the fight had come to an end, Kevin continued, "Do we know a short brunette with a knack for breaking in and an Exy brain?"

As much as Andrew enjoyed having such a talented individual on his team, it was quite  concerning. 

After Kevin's fan-club started playing mean pranks, Coach significantly tightened security. New access codes and additional guards were implemented, not to mention improved locks. Andrew even personally tested to see if he could bypass the enhanced security.

The question lingered in Andrew's mind: did the gremlin truly have a connection to a gang? 

He knew he'd have to look into this "Janie" or "Josten" to find out more.

"I'm coming too," Kevin declared, rising to his feet as he sensed Andrew's plans.

One person Andrew hadn't expected to encounter on the court at three in the morning was Wymack. The couch wasn’t surprised to see them at three-fucking-AM; it seemed like great minds think alike.

But fools rarely differ. Let’s see which one they all are now.

The older man summoned them to his office, where he had security footage ready for them to view. They exchanged glances, then directed their attention to the lone striker playing on the court. "You didn't think I would overlook the suspicious person playing on my court, did you?" he added as an explanation.

It appeared that Andrew's plan to maim Josten before Wymack took him under his wing had gone out the window. 

It was okay. Andrew just needed to tread the line more carefully. After all, accidents do happen.

"Is he stupid?" Coach inquired after observing the striker for a full two minutes. 

His restlessness evident, he paced around the room. "Scratch that, how did he get in? And why?" He then facepalmed himself in frustration.

“Only the best for our team of stars,” Andrew quipped, grinning as he pointed at the image. "Yep, this is our lost Striker, I recognize him by the Exy desperation oozing up to here.”

"I would have done the same," Kevin remarked with tact . "It's the best court around. It might not be up to standard, but it's certainly plausible." 

Andrew couldn't help but roll his eyes at Kevin, the "princess" of the group, and his peculiar perspective. When he first showed up, Kevin didn't even know how to order takeout, but he was inexplicably confident in his skills to break into a secure location without a soul noticing.

Andrew and Coach couldn't resist exchanging eye rolls behind Kevin's back. After all, Kevin was still getting acquainted with the peculiarities of ordinary life.

“Fine. If he is already practicing on the court, he may as well meet the others”, Wymack grumbled, heading toward the court with the others in tow. On the way, Andrew grabbed his racquet. Their newest problem was swift, but Andrew had a knack for catching fast-moving balls, as well as small creatures. 

This would be perfect.

Kevin’s eagerness was clear in his quick steps as they followed. Coach hung back near the exit, while Kevin raced to catch the pest. Andrew walked around to the other exit, suspecting that the little trickster might try to elude Kevin once more. It was a pretty funny sight, especially seeing Kevin's sulking expression when Josten would slip away from him yet again.

He didn’t hear what nonsense Kevin tried to sell Josten. But as expected the gremlin bolted.

As fast footsteps approached his direction, a wide grin spread across Andrew's face, covering half of it. He swung his racquet with a cheeky smirk, and just for a split second, he caught a glimpse of those startled brown eyes fixed on him as the stick whizzed past Josten, narrowly missing him by a hair's breadth. The runner crashed into the wall and fell to the ground, wheezing heavily, which Andrew found absolutely comical. It was like a scene from a real-life cartoon. 

Andrew had to suppress a laugh, tapping two fingers to his temple in salute. “Better luck next time.”

But just as he was on the verge of breaking into laughter once more, Josten spat, "Fuck you," while slowly sitting up and turning more of his body towards Andrew.

"Hey, runaway, whose racquet did you steal?"  Andrew taunted, moving around with a casual swagger, his racket still resting on his shoulder, ready for another swing. 

Given how fragile Josten appeared, Andrew couldn't help but wonder how long it would take to break him. Perhaps just one more well-placed hit would do it.

The brown head shot up to meet Andrew's grin, and the piercing intensity in the boy's eyes was like daggers against Andrew's skin.  

If a look could kill . 

"Fuck you," he muttered back. "Borrowed."

Andrew's grin stretched wider, relishing the unexpected—a runner prepared for a challenge. After all, he was a runaway. The pest's whole body was as tense as a coiled spring, and it would only take a few more breaths before he'd bolt away again.

Wymack barged onto the court with a booming roar. ”God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can't have nice things.”

"Oh, Coach," Andrew said in a low, menacing tone, his eyes locked onto Josten as he positioned himself firmly between the young runner and the exit. "If he were nice, he wouldn't be of any use to us, would he?" The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air.

“Andrew's a bit raw on manners,” Wymack tried to explain to the newcomer, as though addressing a misbehaving toddler. He swiftly placed himself between the brunette and Andrew.

Andrew responded by theatrically throwing his hands up in an exaggerated shrug and stepped back, granting more space.

Kevin caught up with them, his eyes fixed on Josten as though he were a prized possession, a new victim in Day's master plan to elevate the Foxes to relevance.

Kevin once looked at him like that. Andrew quickly proved him wrong . 

Would Josten disappoint him too? 

Hope wasn’t a Fox thing, Kevin should learn.

“Did he break anything?” Wymack checked Josten over. 

If the gremlin is broken, would they require a receipt to return him?

Josten placed cautious hands on his ribs, and Andrew couldn't help but think, ‘Here comes the whining,’ as the boy began to speak.

"Nothing too crucial.” Look at that. “I'm fine, Coach”.

"Quit evading me." Kevin joined their little ‘Trap The Pest’ operation. "You're a Fox now; it's time to stop running."

Drama queen.

"God damn it, Kevin," Wymack said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But he's right. You can officially be a Fox; we just need to sign you up."

Andrew let out a wicked chuckle, then put a stop to Kevin's endeavor to crowd the boy. 

There was no need to sabotage yet another of Josten's potential escape plans. Wymack took Josten to his office to talk about some business. 

Andrew wasn’t sure how he felt with their newest addition in terms of safety, but at least he was a ton of fun, unlike Kevin.

Oh, he might actually turn out to be interesting.

It’s gonna be a long and fun year.

Chapter Text

"Do you want to keep the door open?" Wymack asked as he sat down in his office. "If yes, be prepared for the other troublemakers to eavesdrop."

Neil figured it was as good a time as any to face his fear of Wymack since he couldn't avoid being alone with him for the duration of his stay. 

"Yeah, sure, let's make it private," he said, taking a seat across from the coach and fumbling with his gloves. There was a whole table between them; he could manage.

“Alright”, the older man concurred, gesturing to someone behind Neil, “Out!” , he commanded. Neil turned his head to find Kevin standing at the office door.

"What? I need to be here," Kevin argued, closing the door behind him. But Andrew promptly opened it again. "I will oversee your contract," Kevin explained to Neil, and Andrew grinned as if he found Kevin's antics quite amusing.

"Kevin!" Coach firmly pointed to the door. "Both of you."

Simultaneously, Neil shot Kevin a withering glare, his tone dripping with annoyance. "I don't want you here. I am still mad that last time you were overseeing , I ended up limping."

Kevin ignored Wymack and retorted, “Boo Hoo, you not the only one dissatisfied with last Christmas, I was forced to have a cold shower, if you remember, and barely slept,” his voice taking on a mocking whiny tone.

"Out!" This time Wymack silently worded it, resulting in Andrew taking charge, forcibly dragging the 6'1" man outside the office. Kevin reluctantly complied, shooting a side-eye at Neil before disappearing from view.

“Do you mind if we don't tell the others about the ‘Janie-thing’, and just say she had to return?” Neil blurted out before Wymack could say a word.

“Sure”, the coach cleaned his throat in a suspiciously chuckle-like sound.

"Now that we're alone," Coach cleared his throat, his uneasiness apparent. "I spoke with Coach Hernandez. He was surprised to hear from me, and...” He rubbed his chin. “It's not a question I usually ask, but why did you choose the Foxes?" 

And Neil got it. His history with Millport raised many questions, particularly the involvement with Riko Moriyama. He understood that Wymack would prioritize protecting a current Fox over a potential recruit. Neil knew he needed to establish that he wasn't a threat to Kevin before any more conversation could happen. However, he wasn't sure how much truth he should reveal.

"I needed one more chance than what was given to me," Neil began, believing that adding a hint of cheesiness might resonate with Wymack. He placed his helmet on the table and started to shed some of his gear for a more comfortable conversation. "I heard you are a professional shit giver, so I hoped you would, once again, give a shit," Neil spoke in a hushed tone, just enough to spark Coach's curiosity.

“When Kevin and Riko came to ask me to train, Riko made it quite clear that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. It was not fun,” Neil didn’t like to sound vulnerable, but this was the exact way to get to Coach, as a child in danger.

Wymack scrutinized him, "I understand," he replied with a softer expression. "Do you need me to talk to someone, like your mother?"

“I'm fine,” Neil said quietly.

Wymack didn't beat around the bush with his next question. "Are your parents the one causing the problems, or are they simply ignoring them?"  Neil already guessed that his previous coach had tattled about all his issues and deeds to Wymack.

It was a good question, his parents were the problem, with a capital ‘P’. sometimes, he wished they could just ignore his problems. Both of them made a habit of making his problems their own and addressing them through violence. The key difference was that his father did it under the guise of teaching, while his mother treated it as a safety measure.

Neil pushed this thought away, he needed to focus.

"Both. I don’t know," Neil tried to come off as nonchalant, probably failing under the other man's gaze. He didn’t like to lie to someone he wanted to trust, but it was too early to tell the truth.

Wymack glanced around once more, "Another detail we need to discuss before you sign," almost involuntarily, his foot tapping nervously on the floor. ”it’s about Kevin.” Neil had a hunch where it’s going.

Wymack shifted his gaze to his right hand, gently tracing the flame tattoo there with his fingers. "It was Riko who broke Kevin's hand," Wymack disclosed.

Neil avoided Coach's gaze as he whispered, "I know." To Coach's bewildered expression, he added, "I was with both of them at Christmas. I saw how Riko looked and acted around Kevin." Something shifted in Wymack  expression, an acknowledgment in Neil sincerity. 

"I brought him here," Wymack continued in a calmer tone. "Kevin showed up at my hotel room during the Winter Banquet with his hand in a bloody mess. He had the sense to put it on ice and use a splint to keep it straight. However, Kevin refused to inform the Ravens or allow us to take him to a hospital. Our nurse did her best to patch him up, and that's when I decided to have him travel back to South Carolina with us."

“Thanks,” Neil mumbled, though he knew no thanks were necessary. 

Wymack didn’t do it for publicity stunt; it was just his nature. When he saw a child in need, he helped, consequences be damned.

"Look, you probably know that Tetsuji Moriyama is a big shot in this sport. After Kayleigh's death, he's the only founder left, and his influence in Exy is huge."  Wymack slowly elaborated, “He didn't want Kevin to join the Foxes. Of course, that didn't stop me from signing Kevin. To outsiders, it might seem like a coach or guardian meddling in his player's decision. But there's more to it than that.”

Wymack tapped his foot quickly as he continued, "Pissing him off can get you blacklisted, and we've danced along that edge a few times." He shifted his gaze directly to Neil, his tone becoming even more serious. "The rest of the team knows, but what I'm about to reveal can't go beyond this circle. Lives could be in danger, people could die."

Neil nodded, prepared to hear once again about the Moriyamas' true villainy.

Wymack kept tracing his thumb along the back of his hand, following the path of Kevin's injury. "Kevin doesn't talk much about his time at Evermore, but from his drunken confessions and the rumors, I've learned that things are pretty bad there," he said, looking over at Neil. "This wasn't the first time Riko or Tetsuji hurt him. It was just the first time Kevin had the sense to pack his bags and leave. They were supposed to be his second family. So much for a family, hm?"

“Yeah, So much for family” Neil bitterly agreed. His outlook on his father hadn't shifted much, but Nathaniel's opinions had given him pause when it came to justifying his mother's actions. Still, memories of therapy are not a shortcut to resolving his own issues, leaving him in a state of conflict regarding her. Otherwise, the rest of his mother's side of the family were scumbags, no question asked.

“I don't believe in family.” Neil asserted. Among all his relatives, his mother was the only one who had his best interests at heart. The rest seemed more concerned with what they could gain from him, whether it was money, connections, or simply enjoying his suffering, like Nathan.

“Neither do I.” Coach meant it. 

And Neil understood it.  Wymack's own history had some gruesome details.

"Did your source of problems not chase you, or did you give them a reason not to?" He knew the answer but still wanted to hear it, another proof that Nathaniel’s memories are real.

“I got bigger” Coach shifted in his seat. The accidents that broke him happened  long ago. Wymack wasn't even bitter over it anymore, but he was definitely still cracked.

"Let's get back to the topic," Wymack said wearily. "Listen closely because Riko and Tetsuji are Moriyamas', and that name alone helps him get away with what they have done. But they are not the ones who made the Moriyama name dangerous." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Tetsuji is a significant figure in the world of sports, but his older brother, Kengo, is the CEO of one of the largest import-export companies in the US. They have money, influence, and resources, which essentially allow them to do as they please. Anyone who attempts to speak out against them is either bought off, threatened, or publicly discredited before they can make any headway."

Neil's gaze narrowed as unpleasant memories flooded his mind. Wymack, anticipating Neil's questions, raised a hand to forestall him, his expression turning grave. "The Moriyama family's business dealings aren't really our concern," he said, rubbing his neck, tension evident in his shoulders. "I'm not privy to all the details, and honestly, I don't want to know. I'm not sure how much even Kevin is aware of. He did mention that the family uses Raven games as a cover for significant meetings. With the constant flow of people in and out of Edgar Allan, it provides a convenient way to connect with their far-flung contacts. They have VIP lounges on the upper floors where they negotiate their deals."

Neil remembered Nathan using this method too, illustrating why white-collar crimes were more dangerous than many people believed. Exy games were for Moriyama business, baseball were for his own and golf were when he pretended to be part of high society. 

“So they are a kind of crime organization?”

Wymack nodded, watching him carefully and waiting to see how Neil took it. “Billionaire corporations with an army of lawyers and shady characters, they might as well be.”

Neil, of course, already knew all of that, but Wymack didn't know that. Coach was taking a  huge risk by sharing this information with nobody like him before he even signed an NDA. 

It wasn’t Neil’s habit, but he still felt obliged to return the favor. A true for a true. 

"Oh, I'm well aware of how those wealthy assholes operate," Neil remarked, narrowing his eyes in dissatisfaction. He didn't enjoy acknowledging Nathan as his father and tried to downplay it as much as possible, but sometimes there was no avoiding the fact.

"My father, he's incredibly wealthy. Objectively, he is an overgrown brat. I think I might have even seen the Moriyamas at a gala or some other rich-people event when my father could still parade me as his precious heir. He clearly had some connection to make the police look the other way."

Wymack's eyes held a hint of surprise, and he asked, "What about your mother?"

"Mom got us out, and before that, she had the balls of steel to tell my father precisely where she'd shove her 5-carat diamond marriage ring if he kept disciplining me in his traditional manner," Neil said darkly, recalling his unpleasant memories of Baltimore. 

He pushed down his collar to reveal the iron imprint on his shoulder, "When we took off, she only had nine fingers. He probably thought that she wouldn’t shove that ring if she didn’t have a finger to put it on."

Mom had to buy a prosthetic finger to appear less recognizable while on the run. Nathaniel, in his twisted way, held onto the severed finger like a disturbing memento. If Nathan had been more practical, as the three extra bullet holes in his body from her just proved, he should have chopped off her trigger finger instead.

Neil asserted, "If you don't care, then neither do I," he replied firmly. "Where do I sign?"

Wymack nodded once and passed him the documents. 

Neil signed, knowing there was no turning back now, but he didn't want it any other way. He muted the buzz of his mother's warning in his head.

Wymack swung the door open. 

Kevin and Andrew were still loitering in the lobby like they didn't have practice in two hours. Even Coach wasn't too concerned with this ungodly hour. 

Apparently, there were grand plans for him that demanded their continued presence in the Foxhole court. He probably should go away before Seth joins this party. He'd already hit his quota of awkward encounters for the day, tonight, or whatever.

Time is meaningless for the short-lived.

Wymack locked the office door and then turned back to Neil. "By the way, is there a way to get in contact with you? There weren't any phone numbers listed," Coach asked, casting a suspicious glance at the other intruders.

Neil fidgeted near the door, then responded, "Not really, just glue the messages to your apartment door." Neil wasn't too keen on having a phone; good news rarely reached him by SMS, just threats and demands.

"Why not use carrier pigeons? Less hassle," Andrew quipped with a sarcastic edge in his voice as he casually rose from the sofa.

“What about the phone Riko gave you?” Kevin inquired, also rising from the other sofa, his expression was miserable and weary

“There was an accident, it fell on the hard floor,” Neil paused for dramatic effect, “it fell on the hard floor ten times.” No one laughed; just another wasted opportunity. They'd get it in a couple of years.

"Did you get banned from Gmail or something?" Andrew continued. 

Neil had his reasons for keeping things mysterious, but he couldn't really blame Andrew for his jabs.

"Well, yes, in fact. Apparently, they didn't appreciate it when I set my username as 'drop table *'. Who knew they were so picky?"

Another moment of silence, quite a tough crowd.

"Can we all just go to sleep or do whatever other shit you radicals are doing in the night?" Coach broke the silence, shooing them away like misbehaving cats.

“And, you,” the coach pointed at Neil, “do you have a place to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Neil answered, ignoring the dissatisfied huff from Kevin.

"We can give you a ride," Andrew suggested, and Neil decided to bite the bullet, curious about what Andrew had prepared for him. "Sure, just let me change."

In the women's locker room, he put back Janie's gear. Andrew and Kevin couldn't be trusted yet ,but he had a solution. 

After his shower, he relocated the contents of his bag to an unoccupied locker that he could lock securely. To prevent his bag from appearing odd with its reduced volume, he filled it with clothes from the girls' laundry basket. Neil planned to retrieve it later, during the day when the team would be busy with their classes. He double-checked that everything appeared in order before leaving the locker room.

They were all waiting for him in the lobby, still strangely unbothered by the late hour.

“Just go, I will stay here, debating my life choices”, Wymack grounded, rolling his shoulders back.

Andrew walked out without waiting, immediately lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. He paid little attention to Kevin who stumbled behind him, grumbling wearily. Neil followed them, and together, they emerged into a hazy summer night. Parked nearby was the notorious GS, a sleek black car. Neil decided to play along for a little while.

“Nice car, who you had to kill to get it?” Neil feigned interest in the vehicle. He wasn't much of a car enthusiast, considering he could hijack one if he needed a specific model.

"Aaron's mother," Andrew deadpanned. "I bought it with her life insurance money," he added between drags of his cigarette. "It's no surprise she was worth more dead than alive."

"Good swap, huh? Change a trash to a treasure," Neil remarked nonchalantly as he examined the car from various angles, discreetly checking for child locks or any automatic locking mechanisms.

Kevin seemed strangely thrown off.  Given his upbringing; you'd think he'd be more desensitized to homicide jokes. 

They remained still until Andrew had smoked half of his cigarette. He flicked the butt onto the concrete and closed the door. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine came to life, and he glanced at Neil. There was a faint hint of a smile on Andrew’s lips, but it held no warmth, and his expression was far from friendly.

“Bag in the trunk,” he finally said. He gestured for Neil to get in the front seat.  As Neil had expected, Kevin sat in the back with his bag. 

Someone here is concerned with Neil bailing mid-ride.

Andrew cranked the air conditioner up as high as it could go and put the car in reverse.

“Where to?”

"St. Columbus 23," Neil casually mentioned, giving a fake address of some random vegan place.

“Neil Josten,” Andrew said, as if testing the way it sounded. “Here for next season, hm?”

“Yeah.” 

As they hit the road, Andrew shot Neil a sidelong glance. "So, what dragged you to the Foxes? Certainly not our stellar scores," he commented.

"The opportunity to play Exy and get a free degree was tamping,  plus having Day here is a bonus” Neil explained. It held enough truth to avoid sounding suspicious.

“You know, for someone who came here to play for me, you're not playing,” Kevin interjected into the conversation.

“Oh, I'm playing Exy, just not for you. I appreciate your Exy skills, but you need to fix your nasty personality,” Neil hissed, turning his gaze towards Kevin through the rearview mirror.

"What nasty personality? Practice makes perfect; I just expect the team and you to take it seriously. Is that such a difficult thing to ask?"

"Yes!  when you push the players to keep up despite their injuries." 

Kevin fell silent, his face tense, before he quietly responded, "I won't do it again."

Neil was aware that Kevin would eventually learn not to push. After all, when Nathaniel had met him, Kevin was adamant that no one would play with injuries or in poor health. But Neil needed Kevin to get it now, not after he'd pushed Andrew's buttons so hard that Andrew would threaten to snap his own fingers. Maybe the rest of the team would appreciate it as well. 

It was one of the things Seth ranted to Janie about.

"You also should get some STD tests," Kevin added, his stern expression softening into one of concern as he nervously tapped his leg. Neil noticed Andrew chuckling about it.

"What, why?" Neil questioned. He remembered needing to undergo some tests to be eligible to play, but he hadn't realized that sexually transmitted diseases were among the mandatory ones. 

"Uh, prostitution," Kevin mumbled, his gaze shifting away, a deep blush coloring his cheeks. Andrew missed a turn, Neil ignored it for now.

"You mean last Christmas?" Neil was thoroughly confused with how sex work is related to this. Suddenly, realization dawned on him. "Oh, I see. Kevin, did you sleep with one and now worry that you infected me with STD?”

Neil recalled future-Kevin mentioning that the Nest had a highly questionable sex ed.

"What?!, no, Neil, you do know that sleeping in the same bed isn't the same as... sleeping together," Kevin emphasized, his tone growing increasingly scandalized. He even managed to shed the blush and maintained eye contact.

“I'm not an idiot, I meant through mixing body fluids,” Neil clarified.

"For the last time, it wasn't me who peed on you and the bed,"

"I know, it was Riko," Neil said slowly, "blood. Remember the time you crashed us both into the concrete wall and then proceeded to bleed all over my face?"

Kevin's expression cleared as he recollected the incident. "I didn't sleep with a w—” he took a sharp breath. “Never mind. Just get the tests done," he said, exasperated, his hands on his face. 

Andrew continued to snicker throughout the conversation, tugging at the wheel and swerving the car from one lane to the other without bothering to check the traffic, taking Neil in the wrong direction for his supposed destination.

"He meant that he thought you were involved in prostitution," Andrew clarified, grinning even wider as Kevin's discomfort grew.

"Seriously, Kevin?" Neil let out an exaggerated sigh, “ in case you're curious why Kevin and I didn't hit it off, this is the reason," he explained, casting a pointed look at Andrew, who was likely behind this little adventure. Neil hoped that by articulating his issues with Kevin, they might just take him back to his "place."

"Yeah, Kevin's got that unique charm," Andrew concurred, gripping the wheel tightly as he sharply maneuvered through nonexistent  traffic, ignoring Kevin's offended squick. “ I more interested in the story of why Riko Moriyama peed on you”

"He peed on Kevin as well, since we were sharing a bed," Neil corrected, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I challenged him to a wine-drinking contest, but little did he know, I'd swapped mine for grape juice. When he lost, he got all pissy... quite literally as payback."

“How was the golden shower from the king?”

“Uncomfortably warm and entirely uncalled for,” Neil grimaced at the memory of waking up wet and finding Riko standing over him.

"It means he likes you. Riko doesn't reveal his true self to people he's displeased with," Kevin said, his voice unsteady. It was a somewhat controversial statement, especially with the existence of Jean Moreau and Neil having a handful of memories where Riko showed his true self and was very displeased.

Neil noticed Kevin’s face getting paler, his foot tapping rapidly in the back seat. It was clear that discussing Riko was a sensitive topic, even if they were joking at his expense. It's probably a good idea to switch to a lighter topic now.

“I'm glad you made it out of that bad situation and found a stabby dude you ain't scared of,” Neil said with a friendly tone. Then, he switched to a more upbeat note, "So, Kevin, you know, prostitution isn't exactly profitable.” 

Andrew interjected, changing to another lane, "Ha, you think the second most money-making industry isn't profitable,". 

They seemed to be driving in circles, but Neil pretended not to notice, yet. Kevin's complexion improved with the subject change, and he finally had some color in his face, although it happened to be a very red one.

Neil revised his statement, “I will rephrase it, prostitution is not profitable when you are the merchandise”.

It brought back a memory of his mom. A funny memory.

When he was twelve, his mom had a conversation with him about sex work. It happened after he questioned why, during their stays at hostels, unfamiliar men would knock on their doors. Every time, young Neil was convinced that Nathan's men were coming to gut them. She explained that a single woman with a young child in a cheap hotel was a common target for this kind of business’.

Then she launched into a rant about how sex workers were exploited, how selling your body is only useful in very specific situations, mostly blackmail purposes. She explained to him that if he was in a pinch, there were many other ways to make money, including murder, arms dealing, and old-fashioned theft. Mom even proposed that trying an unsuccessful bank heist might be a smarter move, as the authorities would probably only charge him with a mundane white-collar crime. This could result in almost free housing in a comfortable jail cell, and given his skills, he could likely do well there.

Afterwards when the men came, Mom would usually decline politely at first, and if they didn't get the message, she'd resort to less polite means, usually involving a thorough beating. On very rare occasions, she would take it a step further and castrate them on the spot. Now that he is older, he realized in the later case, it wasn't her who the men suggested to pimp out.

"Remember, Abram, if you ever turn out like these guys, I'll personally turn your pee-pee inside-out," Mom casually remarked after demonstrating how to neuter a man without excessive blood loss. "That's my two cents on the matter," she added, tossing the half-dead, now dickless man out of their hotel room. Little-Abram knew that he should  listen carefully to what mother was saying, particularly when she was pissed like now. 

“People might tell you that sex can make the body dirty, but that's bullshit," mom continued as little-Abram cleaned the blood stains from the floor, "torture is torture. Rape can't make you more unworthy than torture by knife, electrocution, or choking. Do you feel tainted after what your father did to you?" She pointed at his scars. Little-Abram wanted to say yes, but he knew the answer his mother wanted, “No.”

“Good boy,” Mom complimented him while cleaning her scalpel. 

A few years later, she also shared her opinion on consensual sex, a funny one too.

If they were already on this topic, he would seize the opportunity to share his mother's helpful prostitution rant, preventing anyone else from interrupting and asking him questions.

"Hmm... you missed the turn," Neil pointed out amid his rant. This was the final missed turn Neil allowed Andrew to take during the ride, and Neil could guess he was steering them towards a more secluded location. Andrew shrugged, feigning ignorance.

Time to wrap it up and push some buttons, before they get too far away from main streets.

"Shifting gears here, let's cut to the chase. I'm feeling quite 'sharp,' and I have a 'knife' feeling you're planning to make me 'blade' to 'carve' out some truths," Neil quipped after a lengthy pause, making a slicing motion with his finger. He observed the surprise on Kevin's face in the car's mirror. Kevin glanced at Andrew's arms, realizing what Neil was referring to.

Kevin's reaction was clear, and he visibly cringed. 

Served him right.

“Hmm, Andrew, are there knives in your wristbands or are there other dark secrets you are hiding under them?” Neil teased, catching the brief flicker of emotion on Andrew's face.

Andrew abruptly brought the car to a halt, but Neil was ready. He used his legs to brace against being thrown forward,he simultaneously pushed back and pulled up on the lever beneath the seat, moving himself further away from Andrew's reach. In the blink of an eye, as Andrew reached for a knife and Kevin reacted to the unfolding situation, Neil had released his seat belt, opened the door, and made his exit. As he left, he pinched Andrew's palm to weaken his grip and snatched the knife from him.

Neil intentionally left the car door ajar as he exited and turned back to face Andrew. With a sarcastic tone, he remarked, "Nice navigation skills you've got here, Minyard," while pocketing the knife. He concluded with a sardonic salute by tapping two fingers against his temple and said, "Better luck next time."

Kevin's face formed an 'O' of surprise, while Andrew appeared clearly irritated. Neil swiftly dashed into the mass of buildings, before one of them, Andrew, decided to pursue him in the car, without bothering to close the open door.

"Amateurs," Neil mumbled to himself, knowing that the main damage dealer should not be the one behind the wheel. That stuff only worked in movies. In reality, one couldn't engage in a knife fight and not end up wrecking the whole car. Even with Andrew being wise enough to stop the car before the attack, the driver's seat still had too many disadvantages. Limited space, a whole wheel in the middle of the stab-zone, and an easily activated airbag. Neil made a mental note to teach Andrew how to do it right when they became friends.

Now, he could imagine his mother scolding him that there is a time and a place to be a little shit, and maybe he shouldn't agitate the person armed with knives and the intention to use them.

Oh, well.

It took him an hour, but he managed to get back to his "place" almost collapsing face-first onto the box-bed. Only the fear of losing his bag kept him awake a little while longer.

Next day with no note left on Wymack's door, Neil felt secure to go about his business. His agenda mainly involved infiltrating various locations and getting Mafia shit done.

To make the most of the opportunity, Neil decided to strike while the iron was hot, meaning the best time to reacquire his bag was the following morning. So, at seven o'clock, he sneaked into the Fox tower, or more accurately, simply strolled in. The security was clearly lacking. Maybe he should have a chat with Coach once he officially joins the team.

Unsurprisingly, Andrew's dorm was in the same spot it would be next year. The bastard didn't bother trying to conceal the bag; it was just lying on the bed with all the pockets open and its contents scattered about.

Neil dumped the rest of the laundry on the bed, finding some amusement in the idea of Andrew having to explain why the girl's undergarments were strewn across it. To add the final touch, he placed the stolen knife on the very top of the pile.

And since he was already there, why not rile up Kevin as well? Neil filled a cup to the brim and positioned it at the very edge of Kevin's table, so close it teetered on the brink of spilling. 

To make sure Kevin got the message, he added a sticky note.

Kevin would definitely catch the meaning. Kevin really disliked it when people, especially Neil, did that; it seemed to trigger his anxiety. 

Oh, well.

The next step was simpler. Neil bided his time until the Foxes finished their morning workout, then discreetly reclaimed his belongings from the women's locker room. He was finally reunited with his stuff, and the relief of not being separated from them allowed him to breathe more easily. 

With that done, Neil had a nagging thought that maybe he'd gone a bit overboard with all the breaking and entering. He didn't want to come across as too suspicious. But as he thought about the Foxes and their way of doing things, he figured it was probably not a big deal. Random break-ins were practically a way of saying "hello" among the Foxes.

Neil returned to his "home" to switch to his Amanda Klein disguise and began visiting orthopedist clinics. He needed to find one who wouldn't mind a bit of exposure and was willing to let Neil make adjustments to their computer network, ensuring the right level of security. Plus, having access to a doctor who could erase  records of their meeting in case of an emergency would be helpful. 

The opening of the "travel agency" was drawing near, so Neil had to quickly wrap up all the loose ends that could potentially link Amanda Klein to Neil Josten, things he didn't want the Italian mafia to discover. He spent time obscuring the money trail, creating a cover that wouldn't hold up under a thorough investigation but should suffice for the time being.

After two days of intense work and no messages from Wymack, Neil finally found a note on his door. It was an invitation from Coach to meet the Foxes at their morning practice.

Neil kinda thought he would meet the rest of the Foxes after the summer break. 

But no, Wymack had other plans and was going to introduce him to them tomorrow.  Seth might not have Andrew's photographic memory, but he is not brain dead either.

‘Well well, isn’t it the consequences of your own obsession,’ a small voice in his mind chimed in, using a sing-song tone.

And it was, He counted on the two months' break to help Seth forget about Jennie and how she looked. After all, some questions were better left unanswered, like why he was cross-dressing to play Exy in the middle of the night on the court of a team he is yet to be a part of.

So, to avoid that tricky situation, he'd resort to an old-school and consistently effective trick: change his haircut, hair color, and demeanor. And if asked, confidently lie about his true identity.

Neil cut his hair back to shoulder length and dyed it black.

He also decided that Neil Josten is gonna be an asshole, learning from Nathaniel’s past experience that the quiet guy act won't work, he just needed to adjust the level of assholy to a more standard one. 

He felt ready to meet the Foxes. 

Next day Neil let himself into Wymack’s apartment, ready for the coach to introduce him to the team. Wymack was busy in the kitchen, brewing coffee and unaware of Neil's presence.  Not wanting to disturbed him, Neil slipped in, sneaked up behind Wymack, and took a seat, patiently waiting for the coach to notice him.

When the older man turned around, he was visibly startled. “Jesus on the funking stick, I nearly spilled the coffee,” Coach cursed. "Next time, how about  making some noise, so I won’t meet an early grave?"

“Do you have someplace safe where I can hide this?” Neil motioned to his bag.

“Didn’t you tell me you have a place? How safe is safe ?” Wymack remained skeptical about Neil's claims of having a place to stay.

"It is not secure enough," Neil admitted, which was true. If Neil could break in, so could others. He clutched the bag's strap. "That's all I have."

Wymack glanced at Neil and said, "This is only a temporary fix." 

He gestured for Neil to move aside. Neil watched as Wymack unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, filled with files. Wymack removed all of them and stacked them on the table, but the stack toppled over as soon as he released it, scattering papers and folders everywhere. 

Wymack ignored the mess and focused on finding a small key on his key ring.

Wymack held out the key to Neil. Neil looked at him, then at the desk, the pile of papers, and back at Wymack. He began to speak but only got as far as, "I just sorted all these files a month ago," before Wymack grew impatient and pushed the key into his hand.

"Yeah, don't do it again, I couldn't find a damn thing in all this order," Wymack grumbled in response.

Neil stared at the key in his hand, realizing the trust Wymack had placed in him. Maybe Neil wouldn't get any sleep tonight, but his stuff would be safe.

“When you move into the dorms, you're going to have to figure something else out," the coach reminded Neil as he stuffed his duffel into the drawer and locked it. 

“Now let go before I would need to deal with another troublemakers” 

They drove to the court in relative silence.

As they exited the car, Neil instinctively entered the door code, the one he wasn't officially supposed to know. Wymack shook his head in disbelief, muttering that he preferred not to know.

Neil needed to be more careful; he couldn't afford to be careless with his normal guy disguise. 

In the lobby, he locked eyes with the full team. Most of them he recognized from Nathaniel's memories, but two faces were entirely new to him.

"The untalented sexist pigs who don't even suffer that much in life," Seth had informed him after a particularly frustrating practice with Reggie.

Neil disregarded their existence, no need to waste time on people who won’t be here next year.

Neil shifted his gaze to Andrew's group, who were all sitting together on a sofa, and they observed him with curiosity. Andrew, in particular, responded with an intense, penetrating gaze, while Kevin seemed genuinely intrigued.

The upperclassmen watched him with varying degrees of hospitality. 

Dan's group appeared open and approachable, while Seth, Reggie, and Damien projected a more hostile vibe than even Andrew.  At least with Andrew, there was a somewhat valid reason.

“Janie?” Seth hastily asked, but Neil was prepared.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Neil Josten," he corrected Seth. 

Coach backed him up by announcing to the team, "First order of business: Neil Josten, our new striker sub. Got anything to say?" When Neil shook his head, Wymack continued to introduce each member.

“So, any questions, comments, or concerns? Anyone?”

Seth pointed at Neil, looking confused. “I'm pretty concerned–”

Neil guessed Wymack had anticipated this type of situation before because he talked over Seth as if he hadn't even heard him. “All right, then. Moving on.”

Coach started laying out their workout plans and reminded the team that they still needed to maintain their GPA even though they were out of the Exy season. 

This was especially crucial for Damien, who was cutting it dangerously close to not finishing his degree. As Coach made the last remark, most of the team couldn't help but snicker, and Damien slid down in mock despair.

Then Wymack received a call and instructed them to mingle while he checked on matters with the University.

Neil stood awkwardly near Wymack, uncertain about where to sit, as all the available furniture was occupied. He noticed Dan gesturing for him to join her, but before he could respond, Kevin grabbed his hand and tugged him to sit on the arm of the sofa. 

There wasn't much room for Neil in that spot; he had to lean against Kevin to maintain his balance. Kevin wrapped an arm around Neil's waist to prevent him from sliding off, a familiar move that Neil recognized from Kevin and Riko's interactions when they were feeling anxious and sought comfort in each other. Neil was curious about what had caused Kevin to be like this during the two days they hadn't seen each other.

He also couldn't help but have mixed feelings about the possibility of being a substitute in this situation.

"I'm Nicky, Andrew and Aaron's cousin," the man seated next to Kevin introduced himself, extending his hand for a handshake. Neil shook his hand, and Nicky gave it another firm squeeze before releasing it.

"And this grumpy guy is Aaron," Nicky gestured to the blonde man next to him, "and this is Andrew," he pointed to the next blonde. 

The twins remained uninterested, not even bothering to lift their gaze for Nicky's introduction.

"Yeah, I've already had the pleasure of meeting Andrew. We had quite the 'edgy' first encounter," Neil remarked, earning a well-deserved jab to the ribs from Kevin.

"You're gonna join the practice," Kevin said. 

Neil wasn't sure if it was a question or a demand. He had a feeling that Coach had likely planned only a meet and greet for him today. Neil shrugged while Kevin attempted to drill a hole into his head with his angry glare.

“Kevin, why didn't you tell me the new sub is quite the looker?” Nicky let his gaze travel up and down Neil's form. Kevin mumbled that it hardly mattered for Exy.

Aaron looked up from his phone and said, "Calm down, Nicky. The guy just sat down." A hint of annoyance crept into his voice. Andrew also shot Nicky a disapproving stare before shifting his gaze to Neil.

“You touched my things,” Andrew accused him, maintaining eye contact.

“No, you touched my things; I just took them back,”

“Did you, by the way, the one who left Kevin the ominous water cup?” Nicky interrupted the staring contest Neil and Andrew had started.

"Yeah, I know how thirsty Kevin can get," Neil responded without averting his gaze from Andrew. Kevin let out an unamused huff, clutching onto Neil's shirt tightly, as if he was afraid Neil would bolt the moment he let go, conjuring their past encounters. 

A fair assumption.

“What the hell, we thought someone left poison for Kevin,” Aaron cursed, still fixated on his phone. His complaints lacked sincerity, and Neil observed Andrew rolling his eyes before eventually breaking his eye contact with Neil. Andrew then shifted his attention to Aaron, his expression displaying slight concern. Neil guessed that Aaron was only at the beginning of his 'not dating' Katelyn, which marked the start of the second 'deal-breaker' between the brothers.

In this time-line Neil planned to resolve it with less drama.

“Hello, I’m Danielle Wilds, but you can call me Dan,” Dan introduced herself as she approached the group with Matt by her side. "And this is Matt."

"Matt Boyd," he grinned, leaning against Dan's shoulder, their fingers intertwined. 

Renee joined them shortly after. The twins paid no attention to the new addition to the conversation, while Nicky waved to Renee.

“Are the monsters bothering you?” Dan inquired, her gaze fixed on Kevin’s hands wrapped around Neil.

"Really, Dan," Renee interjected. "That's a bit inappropriate, don't you think?"

Renee's words were gentle, and she had a faint smile on her face, but Neil still sensed the rebuke. It was more understated but somehow more cutting than the disapproving glances Nicky was directing at Dan, perhaps because Renee expressed her disappointment in Dan's demeanor so sweetly. Neil shifted his gaze away from them and offered a nonchalant shrug.

Neil realized that he had yet to be introduced to the nickname 'monsters.'  Pretending to be oblivious, he asked, "Kevin, why are you the monster? Did you devour the unborn again?"

"Stop calling uncooked eggs like that; it's extra protein," Kevin replied in an exasperated tone, indicating that they had had this argument about half a year ago.

"No, it's because–" Matt began to explain, then halted when Renee gave him a warning look.

Seth and Allison joined, crowding the space around the sofa, making Neil feel claustrophobic. He tried to get up to escape the situation but was pulled back by Kevin.  Neil wasn't entirely sure why, but it seemed like Kevin had somehow imprinted on him as the closest thing to a Revan.  So, Neil tried to relax in the hope that it would help Kevin calm down as well.

"Are you sure you're not Janie Smalls?" Seth asked once more, eyeing Neil carefully.

Allison also gave him a once-over, joined by her boyfriend. Her lip curled slightly in disdain as she observed Andrew's group. Her attention then settled on Neil, and she studied him for a moment, her expression calculating.

Neil shifted his expression to an apologetic one. "I think this is the first time we're meeting."

"You really look just like her, I'm just sayin'," Seth squinted, as if he thought Neil might spill the beans if he stared hard enough. Neil shook his head, feigning confusion.

“Chill, Seth!  Janie was a hot chick, this is a dude, ” Reggie interjected from across the room, shutting down Seth's questioning.

"They're both just on the shorter side, that's all." Damien chuckled next to him and whispered something to Reggie.

"Yeah, this guy doesn't come across as a liar," Matt added, with the others nodding in agreement. Neil disregarded the knowing look Andrew shot his way, and Kevin discreetly coughed.

"Aren't you a cutie," Allison commented with a smile, although it carried a smug undertone, possibly because Seth was glaring at them as if he could will them out of existence.  It appeared that Allison and Seth were closer to the 'off' part of their 'on-off' relationship. 

Now, Seth had stopped glaring at Neil as if he thought he was Janie; instead, he now regarded him as a competition. In Neil's opinion, that was an improvement.

Allison lifted her hand to pat Neil's head, but Kevin swiftly slapped it away, remarking,  “Neil doesn't like to be touched." It was a bit rich, considering Kevin's own touchy behavior, but at least he was trying to set some boundaries, even if Neil was perfectly capable of doing it himself.

"Yeah," Neil agreed, sensing the amused and perplexed looks from the team.  He had no intention to unpack any of that.

Kevin pointed at Andrew's group, declaring, "He's going to practice with us," and he seemed to be the only one endorsing this idea. Even Nicky raised an eyebrow, displaying clear bewilderment at the decision. In Kevin's peculiar way of thinking, this was probably some form of territory marking.

"Would he?" Andrew inquired, just as Neil started to retort. "No, the last time we did it, you made me–"

But Kevin cut him off, “Shut up about it, shut up about how I kept you awake all night and how you limped afterwards. I had discomforts that night too; I had a cold shower and had to change all my clothes because you made me all wet,” Kevin snapped, jabbing a finger at Neil's torso. “And it wouldn't have happened if you had stretched beforehand like I told you to.”

Neil swiftly realized the unnatural silence that followed Kevin's outburst as the entire team turned their attention to both of them

Here goes away Neil's chance to make a good first impression, again.

God damn it, Kevin

Seth once again pointed at Neil, appearing even angrier this time.  “I'm fucking concerned–”

Chapter Text

Coach interrupted Seth's concerns once more by announcing that the team dorms would be searched because someone had called the police, falsely claiming that the Foxes were running a meth lab out of the dorms.

"My god, just yesterday someone spray-painted 'long live the king' and a raven on our door," Nicky groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. Similar complaints echoed from the rest of the Foxes. Seth unleashed a very colorful string of curses about the Ravens fans, threats that Neil knew for a fact were anatomically incorrect.

Oh well, that explains a lot.

That could explain Kevin's unprompted anxiety. If Neil's memory served him right, this was just part of the harassment the Foxes suffered from Kevin’s fall-out with the Ravens. 

Kevin was on edge, getting closer to full-blown panic. Clinging more firmly to Neil, Kevin glanced over at Andrew and whispered, "Help me."

"It looks like your fans just can't take a hint," Andrew steadied his gaze back on Kevin.

Aaron and Nicky got quieter, seemingly used to this scenario. They exchanged a look and stared as Wymack explained to the rest that they couldn't return to their dorm for the time being due to the police raid.

"These aren't my fans," Kevin countered with a dry tone. His gaze fell to his hand, his eyes fixated on the scar that marred its surface. "Not anymore," Kevin added, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness.

Neil had only caught a fleeting glimpse of the scar before: a jagged mark that disrupted the delicate bones of Kevin's hand. It wasn't as gruesome as it appeared in Nathaniel's memories, though.

"Look at me," Andrew sighed in an exaggerated manner. Kevin lifted his head to meet Andrew's gaze, while Neil took Kevin’s left hand and examined it more closely. He gently massaged it with his thumbs in small circles to alleviate Kevin's pain. 

Neil felt a bit unsure about his place at this moment, sensing that he was intruding on a private moment. He wasn't part of the 'family', despite Kevin's attempts to bypass Andrew's approval, at least not yet. He also felt Andrew’s unease with an outsider being privy to their family dynamics. To give them some semblance of privacy, Neil averted his gaze, focusing instead on Wymack as he lectured Reggie, Damien, and Seth that it was too late to conceal their 'not-drugs', even if it wasn’t meth. Coach further informed them that he was going to bench all of them and send them to do a marathon.

"It'll be fine," Andrew reassured him. "I made a promise, didn't I?"

Kevin nodded, his tension subsiding gradually. The hardened glint in his eyes softened as he drew strength from Andrew's unwavering presence. Neil let go of Kevin’s hand, scanning the lounge.  Any good mood the foxes had a few moments ago was sucked by the later incident. The team broke into cliques, whispering to each other about all the things that Ravens fans had put them through: the break-ins, threatening phone calls, rabid press, vandalism.

Neil considered comforting Kevin, but he knew anything he could say would be useless. Kevin was burdened by various insecurities, but thinking he wasn’t worth the effort wasn't one of them. 

Instead of giving empty words, Neil just gently massaged Kevin's other hand. His actions drew disapproving stares from the Twinyards, especially Andrew, whose posture stiffened and glare sharpened. Although he kept full attention on the pair, he didn't move to interfere, likely noticing that Kevin was soothed by the physical touch. Neil kept his touch light but deliberate, and Andrew's posture noticeably softened the moment Neil let go of Kevin's hands.

"I just can't wrap my head around it. With all that extra security, how is this stuff still happening?" Nicky said, hunching forward and resting his hands on his knees. His voice had a shaky edge to it, hinting at the underlying anxiety that gnawed at him. The recurring incidents had left him baffled and on edge.

"Your security is a freaking joke," Neil remarked as he flopped onto the floor, still finding the sofa's armrest uncomfortable. Leaning against Kevin's legs, Neil continued, "Just two days ago, I strolled right in and poured Kevin a glass of water. In his locked dorm room, mind you, which I broke into with a mere hairpin. And no one batted an eyelash."

Kevin's fingers absentmindedly traced patterns through Neil's hair, an action that echoed the nightly ritual he and Riko had once shared with Neil before bed. Neil made a mental note to inquire later about why Kevin and Riko seemed so fascinated by his head-nest.

"Huh?" Aaron inserted himself into the conversation, pocketing his phone. He leaned forward, his gaze darting between Neil and Nicky, trying to grasp the context of their exchange. "There are tons of security guards constantly patrolling around the tower," he stated.

Andrew stood up, halting in front of Kevin. “Someone is being generous with the peasants,” he stared at Kevin, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oooo, the security was bribed to look the other way,” Neil quickly deciphered Andrew’s message, snapping his fingers.

Andrew cast his gaze down at Neil, his expression blank, "I don't recall adopting this one,” he deadpanned, suspicion lacing his words as his eyes narrowed.

Neil considered whether to compare himself to a stray cat that had adopted a human rather than the other way around or to inform Andrew of their impending co-parenting situation with Kevin. Ultimately, he opted for a nonchalant shrug, tilting his head to encourage Kevin to scratch his scalp in the perfect spot.

"Oh, pretty, pretty please, let's keep him!" Nicky enthusiastically clapped his hands together.

Andrew's voice was icy as he cut in, "I don't like that word. Don't use it–”

Wymack interrupted before Andrew could offer more of his thoughts on Nicky or the potential new addition to the group. "Alright, everyone, enough chattering like a bunch of clucking hens. Let's move this energy into practice and use this anger for the game." He clapped his hands and motioned towards the court.

"Now, I've got to deal with the mess in your dorms. Kevin, I'll leave you in charge of the coaching duties, and Dan, you handle the captaincy," Coach instructed before disappearing into his office.

Neil was dragged up by Kevin toward the nurse's room. "Wait, I am not approved to play, I don't even have gear," Neil complained, halting at the door.

Andrew stayed behind as the others went to the changing rooms.

"Coach approved, you only need Abby to approve your physical," Kevin commented. 

Andrew added with glee, "And you can use Janie’s gear. Lucky you are so, so close in size. One can say nearly identical."

Neil swallowed, feeling unprepared for the physical examination. Not to mention, Andrew’s unnatural eagerness to start practice was quite questionable.

"Should I wear two helmets?" he asked cautiously.

"It would be redundant," Kevin dryly said.

Andrew added, "Not to say useless. I've expanded my aiming repertoire." His grin widened.

Abby unlocked the door to the medical room and pushed it open. “You must be Neil,” she said with a smile, probably trying to be reassuring. Neil was not reassured.

Fine, let's get this over with.

Neil stepped in but not before Kevin whispered through the closing door, "Don't forget the STD tests."

Brat .

The first part of Abby's check-up was a breeze, exactly as she'd promised. Neil got weighed, underwent a range of tests from reflexes to blood pressure, and she took two vials of blood from his left arm, neatly labeled them, and stashed them away. Then, she motioned towards him and casually said, "Shirt off."

Neil hated it; he knew this was coming, but still, he involuntarily clutched his t-shirt.

“I can't check track marks through cotton, Neil.” 

Neil locked eyes with her, contemplating whether he could trust her, knowing he had to. The anticipation of her reaction made his skin crawl. Finally, he spoke looking down, "You can't ask me about them. I won't explain. Ok?"

She gently touched his cheek, redirecting his face towards her. "Neil, I work for the Foxes. None of you are okay. Chances are I've seen a lot worse than whatever it is you're trying to hide from me."

Neil's smile was humorless. "I hope not."

Abby dropped her hand, and Neil pulled his shirt over his head before he could lose his nerve.

In this timeline as well, Abby believed she was prepared. Neil knew she wouldn't be, and he was correct. Her mouth opened on a silent breath, and her expression turned blank. She wasn't quick enough to conceal her flinch, and Neil observed her shoulders tensing with sadness. He locked eyes with her as she examined the brutal marks that bore witness to a horrific childhood.

Neil’s scars included a looping scar curving down over his collarbone, a pucker with jagged edges from a bullet. There was a shapeless patch of pale skin from his left shoulder to his navel, marking where he'd jumped out of a moving car. A brand near his heart like one a farmer would put on their livestock. A few smaller burn marks scattered over his sides.

Faded scars crisscrossed here and there from stupid accidents, desperate escapes, or his mother’s discipline. His abdomen bore larger overlapping lines from shallow but prominent knife wounds. And on his right shoulder was the perfect outline of half a hot iron.

“Neil…” Abby said softly, but Neil shook his head.

Abby's mouth thinned to a hard line as she forcibly redirected her attention back to his physical. The moment she gave him the okay to put his shirt on again, Neil yanked it over his head. Abby filled out the rest of her forms in silence.

“We're done,” Abby said. Neil hoped she meant his physical and not, for example, with the world after seeing all of him.

Neil bolted out of her office. He stumbled upon Janie's gear neatly laid out for him outside the door with protein bars on top. He opened the first one and allowed himself a moment of distraction, pushing the previous interaction deep into the recesses of his mind and focusing on the prospect of finally playing with a college-level team. He finished the rest of the snacks.

The practice was a mess even before Neil joined in. Not only did half of the team barely cooperate with each other, but Neil somehow found himself declared as the main striker for this particular chaos. Kevin hadn't been cleared to join, and Seth and Damien got banned for their impressive display of stupidity.

Kevin, in his usual fashion, yelled at everyone about how they were all doing it wrong. Dan attempted her version of managing the team, resulting in the majority just acting goofy. Andrew, true to form, let all the balls go in. Only Matt and Renee kept the façade of training by putting in some actual effort.

However, the moment Neil stepped into the court, everyone miraculously snapped into an unusually serious mode. A serious mode of hunting the newbie apparently. 

Throughout the practice, Neil was occupied with dodging Andrew's well-aimed rebounds, dodging Seth’s questions about how similar Neil and Janie play, and dodging the suspicious looks the rest of the team gave him. The constant maneuvering left him feeling more like a fugitive than a teammate, always on the run rather than in the game.

At least something is bonding this team together, too bad it’s at his own expense.

At the end of the practice session, Neil made a beeline for the exit, bypassing the showers altogether. He had no intention of providing Andrew with an opportunity to re-initiate his interrogation efforts while Neil would be vulnerable and wet. 

Neil's swift departure would undoubtedly further fuel Kevin's frustration, which was an added bonus. 

After all, life is composed of these small joys.

Neil had planned to vanish into thin air before they descended upon the showers, but his tendency to disappear might have finally caught up with him. Andrew and Kevin, anticipating his escape attempt, were prepared.

Neil managed to dodge Andrew's stick aimed at his guts this time, too; however, he was promptly captured by Kevin and Nicky, who each seized one of his arms, effectively thwarting his grand escape.

“Going somewhere, gremlin?” Andrew asked grinning, raising his racquet to rest on his shoulders.

“Apparently not,” Neil sighed, shaking off the hands from his shoulders. Nicky easily withdrew his hands, but Kevin continued to hover nearby.

"Look, we're not bad. We just wanted to talk and get to know you better," Nicky displayed his empty hands as a sign of friendliness.

"Andrew already tried to stab me for my cutting-edge puns," Neil quickly muttered while shaking off Kevin’s hands. Kevin jabbed him in the ribs with his finger, not one to appreciate Neil’s brilliant knife puns. Aaron, who had relatively ignored most of the interaction, snickered. 

At least someone finally laughed at his jokes.

Nicky's mouth fell open in surprise, and Andrew smiled widely, saying, “Neil! Hello. We meet again.”

“We met earlier,” Neil replied with a hint of exhaustion, “It was a whole montage of how not to drive to a given destination and common mistakes to make while stabbing and wheel grabbing.”

"He's a comedian, too? An athlete, a comic, and a student. How multitalented. What a grand addition to the Fox line," Andrew mockingly wiped away a tear formed from all the laughter. "I can't wait to find out what other hidden talents he possesses. Perhaps we should throw a talent show and uncover the mysteries of Neil Josten? But later, of course."

Neil seized the opportunity to whip up a non-criminal explanation for his knife-wielding expertise. He wasn't about to let Andrew get all suspicious of him just yet.

"Oh, I also was in a circus,” he drawled, casually shrugging his shoulders. "Dagger-throwing and juggling were my specialties."

While true, Neil conveniently omitted the fact that he had acquired these skills long before he ever stepped foot inside a circus tent.

After they changed continents, mother had concocted a plan to join a traveling circus in Europe. Her reasoning was that traveling groups were more elusive, and border control often overlooked entertainment troupes. But that plan went south, and it was the first time they had to ditch a place because of his mom's screw-up. She did something that sent the entire air acrobatics team plummeting to the ground with broken bones. Her only explanation was, "These bitches deserve to get stitches." 

Neil had just added this incident to the growing list of reasons why he should never cross his mother.

Neil sensed the collective curiosity among his teammates. "Nah, I'm not about to put on a show after a full-ass practice," he gestured towards Andrew, whose jaw clenched in frustration, “as the munchkin said, later."

Aaron let out a long, drawn-out sigh, and Nicky, mirroring his cousin, emitted a series of disheartened groans.

Even Kevin's usually stoic face couldn't mask his disappointment. Only Andrew remained unmoved, his eyes burning with fatigue and a hint of murderous intent. It was clear that if Neil dared to indulge in fulfilling the requests, Andrew would gladly strangle him on the spot.

Neil had a hunch that they were lingering in the lobby to wait until the showers would be empty from the upperclassmen, so Andrew could work his magic in peace. The magic of interrogation at knifepoint, probably. 

Seth, Reggie, and Damien were benched, so they probably left before Neil stepped out of the court since they didn't need to shower. This left only Matt as the sole male Andrew needed to finish showering and leave. Given Matt's notoriously speedy showering habits, the locker room was likely already deserted. The women's locker room was silent too, and Neil couldn't help but notice the absence of any upperclassmen lingering around. Neil was surprised that not a single upperclassman had stuck around to chat.

His train of thought was cut by Kevin’s voice.

"Why do you keep running away from me?" Kevin asked, his voice tinged with an unsettling undertone. His fingers danced around Neil's arm, a touch light enough to avoid triggering Neil's escape reflexes, but still lingering.

“Why are you chasing?” Neil fired back. Kevin clasped Neil's wrist, his expression softening. 

"Because I want to take care of you," he explained, his tone genuine. "I know you are sleeping on hard concrete.” Raising his other hand to forestall Neil's protests, he added, "No, sleeping in a box stuffed with your clothes – all six outfits – doesn't count as a proper bed." He wagged his finger sternly while Neil gently attempted to free his wrist from Kevin's grasp.

"Eight outfits, actually," Neil corrected him, feeling strangely warm inside. "Fine, I admit it. I escape because I find your annoyance hilarious," he conceded, surrendering to Kevin's grip.

Kevin grumbled in disbelief at Neil's audacity, then he leaned in close and whispered,  “You're incredibly fortunate that Seth is stupid. If it were me, I wouldn't be fooled by your minor color changes as anyone else with even half a brain. I trust you're aware that the entire 'Janie' pretense was rather absurd.”

Oh my, Kevin might eat his words in a couple of months.

Before reaching the locker room, Andrew halted the group and motioned for Kevin to join him inside, leaving Neil with the other two. Knowing Andrew, he's probably checking the locker and shower rooms before they start their shenanigans.

"So, you and Kevin?" Nicky inquired in a hushed tone, taking advantage of Andrew and Kevin's absence.

"Oh, you've figured us out," Neil drawled in a tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. Too bad for Nicky and his misplaced curiosity, as Neil wasn't about to indulge Nicky’s real question. "We're acquaintances, I guess. What can I say? The bastard grows on you.”

"But—" Nicky persisted.

“Leave it,” Aaron interrupted, "You know how Kevin can be."

Well, it seemed Kevin had inadvertently revealed his homoerotic tendencies to even more people. The cheater.  

"Exy is all that matters to Kevin," Aaron scoffed, his tone dripping with cynicism. "No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he's only interested in people's Exy skills. It's all just ‘The Game’ to him."

"Fine, fine," Nicky conceded with a boisterous chuckle. "So, Neil, tell us more about yourself. For instance, when is your birthday?" Nicky asked, his voice echoing through the room.

"In March," Neil replied, glancing around impatiently.

"Oh, we missed it. But we recruited you in April—” Nicky said, his voice laced with a hint of playful deception. 

In reality, Neil had approached them on his own volition in May, but Neil didn't see the need to correct Nicky's little fib. 

Nicky continued with a wide grin, "—So, that should still count as the world's greatest present, right?" He paused, letting the anticipation hang in the air before adding, "So, if it wasn’t Kevin, what did your girlfriend get you?"

"A concussion," Neil replied, technically telling the truth. Mika had given him more than enough close calls of his face meeting the ground.

“Did you date Mika Brown from your high school?” Kevin popped back, looking intrigued.

“No, she's a friend who happens to be a girl.”

Nicky whined, but Neil pretended not to get it because, frankly, it wasn't Nicky's business.

"Come on, a cute face like yours has to have someone. Maybe you do swing my way then? In that case, tell me now and save me the trouble of figuring it out," Nicky said with hopeful enthusiasm.

Neil spat, "Why the hell does it matter?"

Nicky, his curiosity burning, wouldn't let it go. "I'm just curious."

Aaron added in a snide tone, "You mean nosy."

Neil was unsettled by Nicky’s snooping. He suspected that his sexuality mirrored Nathaniel's, but the mere thought of sex-related memories triggered an inexplicable aversion within him. The idea of witnessing himself engaging in such acts with someone he lacked any emotional connection towards revolted him. With a firm resolve, Neil mentally locked away these kinds of memories. 

Neil, finally giving in to Nicky’s pleading gaze, admitted, "I don't swing either way."

He had an inkling that using the terms ‘Demisexual’ or ‘Asexual’ would be too woke for 2006.

“Bullshit,” Nicky scoffed while putting a hand on Neil’s shoulder. Neil's temper flared, poised to unleash a biting remark, but Kevin stepped in, his tone firm and unwavering. 

"He's not interested, back off," he knocked away Nicky’s hand.

“Hey, Nicky, ” Andrew stage-whispered in German, approaching them with a dark expression. “ Don't touch him, you understand?”

Neil's face hardened into a mask of feigned ignorance. 

"You know it's all just harmless banter. If he agrees—" Nicky's smile wobbled, revealing a flicker of fear beneath his bravado.

Andrew's voice, taut with barely restrained fury, cut through the air like a razor. "Don't push it."

Kevin, sensing the growing tension, chimed in, "I don’t understand what you two said, but from guessing, Andrew’s right." He placed a firm hand on Neil's shoulder and gently nudged him towards the locker room. Andrew fell in line beside Kevin, and Aaron tagged along, leaving Nicky standing there, still buzzing with the unresolved tension.

As soon as Aaron and Nicky got inside, they made a beeline for the shower room, not even retrieving their clothes beforehand from their lockers. Neil and Kevin stopped by Kevin's locker. Neil plopped down on a bench to wait.

"We're not taking you to our dorm like that," Kevin said. "Wash up."

Kevin, once again, had taken it upon himself to make decisions for Neil without even bothering to inform him. Judging by Andrew's expression, he too was caught off guard by Kevin's impromptu plan.

“Would he?” Andrew asked at the same time as Neil said, “I won't shower with you all here.”

Andrew inquired, “Is Nicky going to be a problem for you?”

Neil wasn't fond of Andrew's manic grin, but he found his veiled threat even more unsettling. Especially since Andrew was the very reason Neil preferred to stay put, a truth he wouldn't dare reveal. Andrew was the kind of guy you kept your weaknesses hidden from, at least until you properly befriended him.

“It's not about Nicky. It's about my privacy.” Neil crossed his arms.

Kevin snapped his fingers at Neil. “Get over it. You can't be shy if you're going to be a star.”

Andrew leaned toward Kevin and cupped a hand around his mouth but didn't bother to lower his voice. "He has to hide his ouchies, Kevin. Bruises, you think, or scars? I think scars. Can't be bruises if his mom isn't around to beat him, right?"

Andrew wanted him to react, so Neil had to reel it in. With a carefully crafted fake smile, Neil countered, "There's a saying about throwing stones when you live in a glass house." He slowly ran a finger down his wrist, a subtle yet pointed reminder of Andrew's own vulnerabilities.

Andrew's jaw clenched as he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, his smile morphing into a cruel grimace. The unspoken tension between them hung heavy in the air, palpable and almost tangible. Time to cool down this conversation.

“Actually, Kevin's the issue here," Neil countered, ready to turn the tables and dish out some well-deserved payback for Kevin's earlier behavior. "Last Christmas, he kept trying to barge into my shower."

"And I stand by that," Kevin insisted, unfazed by Neil's accusation. "You were using hard soap to shampoo your hair. Here, take this," Kevin declared, tossing a bottle of shampoo onto Neil's lap.

Neil examined the label and scowled. It was lice shampoo. He wasn't amused, but Andrew likely was. The Irish bastard. Mom had told him to never trust an Irish man . 

He should have known better. Kevin's brand of care had a peculiar quality of feeling both condescending and nurturing at the same time. Without giving Neil a second look, Kevin swiftly stripped down and entered the shower room. Any objections Neil might have voiced to Kevin were drowned by the sound of running water.

“Relax, there are locks and stalls. Coach never explained it. Maybe he thought we'd need to grieve our disastrous losses in private. Only the best for his rising stars, right?” Andrew said in a mocking tone, probably rephrasing Wymack’s words.

“I didn't think Wymack recruited rising stars,” Neil said as he pushed past Andrew, his eyes scanning the shower room to locate the farthest stall.

“No,” Andrew agreed, following Neil. “The Foxes will never amount to anything. Try –”

“No,” Neil turned to face him, “Wymack doesn’t recruit rising stars, he recruits pit-climbers, people that hit rock bottom and still managed to claw their way back up,” he pointed at Andrew, “Foster-home-child, aren’t you above where you began? With access to food, water, and shelter with your own lock. Not to mention a future degree. We all know where exactly society deemed our place.”

Neil carefully maintained a distance from Andrew, avoiding any accidental contact. "Coach never explained it?" he began, his tone laced with subtle sarcasm, "but I'm sure you understand. The stalls provide you with a sense of security, too, don’t they, foster-home-child?" His eyes glinted with a hint of challenge, a silent dare to Andrew. Neil was determined not to let Andrew gain the upper hand or turn the Foxes into a laughingstock. Nathaniel's years of experience had shown him just how many young lives Wymack's program had saved.

The expression Andrew gave him back was a mix of indifference with hints of his real fury, but Neil could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. Neil glared back, his eyes as cold as ice. The two faced off, neither willing to back down. It’s time to stabilize the mood again.

“Are you planning to interrogate me at knife-point while I'm naked in the shower?” Neil asked point blank. Neil didn’t plan to let Andrew walk all over him. He would like to have Andrew as a friend, but he wouldn’t push the subject if Andrew deemed Neil as no longer friendship material for pushing the line.

Andrew's playful grin faded into a serious expression as he addressed Neil. "No, Kevin insisted on speaking with you, so I questioned him about his intentions. He swore you would prefer fewer people around you for this. Shower in peace, gremlin. Today no one will touch you here.” He gestured towards the stalls, his tone unwavering.

“Even you?”

Andrew nodded solemnly. "Even me," he affirmed. Once everyone except Neil had finished showering, Andrew shepherded the group towards the lobby to await Neil's arrival.

Neil observed the door shutting behind them, then gathered his clothes and made his way to the showers. He washed swiftly, grimacing as he dressed again. Despite the ventilation, the room retained a certain dampness. Neil felt sticky as he pulled on his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair, joining up with the group in the main room.

Kevin sprang to his feet and stalked over to Neil, his nose twitching as he sniffed Neil, "I gave you a shampoo for a reason, Neil," he chided, his voice laced with exasperation. "Use it." 

Like Kevin really expected Neil to use the lice shampoo.

Neil bristled under Kevin's scrutiny. “I’m homeless, not feral,” Neil bit back. “I used the normal one,” he took a step back so Kevin would stop his weird behavior.

Kevin's frown deepened, but he seemed to accept Neil's explanation. “You're going to sleep in our dorm,” he commanded. Were they still on this subject? Neil thought they were past Kevin trying to make decisions for him.

“No.”

 "Well, how about this," Kevin suggested, hovering nervously beside Neil. "The girls have an extra bed. You could bunk with them."

A fleeting thought of Renee and her peculiar abilities quickly extinguished any semblance of comfort Neil could have found in the offer. The thought of sleeping alongside a knife-wielding woman who could and did kebab her enemies sent shivers down his spine, especially someone he barely knew.

Neil firmly shook his head and pulled away from Kevin's reach. "I'm not sleeping with the girls." His tone was firm and unwavering, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise.

"And you're not sleeping with the boys either. What a shame," Nicky remarked, getting off the sofa, his hair still damp. Aaron, joining Nicky shortly after, let out a snort in response to his remark. 

Andrew, observing the exchange, interjected with a commanding tone, "Leave him be. If he wants to sleep, he will." 

Nicky and Aaron walked out, leaving Andrew to wait for Kevin to join them.

Kevin's voice dropped to a whisper as he gently placed a hand on Neil's shoulder. "Ple— just sleep in a real bed," he pleaded. "Your back will thank you." After a moment of thought, Kevin relented, and Neil didn't outright refuse the idea of crashing in the infirmary from time to time. Neil promised Kevin that he would at least give it a try.

Then Kevin caught up to Andrew as they too exited the room.

It all was a bit anticlimactic.

Neil kept showing up for the morning practices, and almost every day brought more bad news about the ongoing media attacks against the Foxes. The aftermath of the 'Meth Lab Raid' saw Damien getting expelled from college due to drug stashes found in his dorm. 

From conversations Neil overheard, it seemed Damien took the fall for both Seth and Reggie. He didn't seem to care much, mentioning he hadn't planned to use his degree anyway, so taking the blame for all the drugs wasn't a big deal to him. 

Neil wasn't sure if it was guilt, but Seth and Reggie became obnoxiously aggressive toward everyone, particularly Dan and Kevin. Matt and Renee had to intervene multiple times to prevent fights from escalating into a full-blown brawl. Andrew wasn't the only one itching to skin Seth alive, Neil was pretty sure Allison would have joined in if Renee hadn't hurled Seth away to safety.

Reggie, never one to miss out on the fun, earned himself a permaban for the remainder of the school year. His attempt to pelt an un-geared Kevin with potentially life-threatening balls got him kicked from the court. Andrew's not-so-subtle vow to handle Reggie personally the next time they crossed paths probably factored into that decision.

In the next training they were two people down, periodically. Too bad the level of hostility between teammates barely dialed down . At least the remaining players could somewhat listen to instructions. Of course, Kevin's guiding skills were so top-notch that the team just didn’t. 

Classic Kevin.

"Allison, what are you doing? Pass the ball to Dan," Kevin shouted. "And you, Josten, stop running around aimlessly."

That was the moment when Neil reached his breaking point; this was the third practice where Kevin acted like that. Despite being an assistant coach for half a year, Kevin just didn't know how to communicate effectively. Or how not to make everyone around wish to strangle him, including Andrew.

Neil caught the ball, then paused. "Hey, Allison. Let's pretend that what Kevin said was, 'Allison, please adjust your hand angle slightly to the left and use the wall to pass it to Dan,'" he said, and threw the ball to her.

Surprisingly, Allison followed the instructions and managed to execute the pass closer to what Kevin had likely intended. Dan raised her thumb in approval, and Allison celebrated by clank -ing her racket with Renee's, wearing a delighted smile.

"This is how you give constructive criticism," Neil remarked to Kevin, crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow in challenge. Kevin swaggered over and stood in front of Neil, casting a looming presence.

"It's still not good enough," Kevin replied, his expression unreadable.

"Yes, because we need practice, and that's exactly what we're in the middle of," Neil replied. He took one more breath before tearing into Kevin.

"Just because you were raised by a pompous ass who thinks coaching involves screaming obscenities and threatening bodily harm to the players, it doesn't give you a pass to half-ass your job while expecting us to excel in ours," Neil expressed his frustration. The team stopped to absorb the new guy getting on Kevin’s case. Seth looked low-key impressed. Andrew and Aaron were their usual selves, bored but reluctantly focused on the potential fight.

"The Master doesn't yell. He's above it," Kevin argued back, tightening his hands into fists.

Neil snorted, "Oh, my apologies. He angrily whispers threats – so much better . But that still doesn't excuse his lack of coaching qualifications and refusal to learn. You're here now, so learn how to team build and start reading about it."

Neil saw in his peripheral view how Andrew and his family slowly closed around them, ready to move Kevin away if Neil snapped.

How predictably adorable of them.

"If you're so good at it, why don't you do it?" Kevin questioned as he tangled his fingers through the netting on Neil's racquet. When he started to pull it away, Neil held on tighter, silently refusing to let go.

"I've just arrived. You're the one who spent half a year with the team," Neil shot back. He took one step into Kevin’s personal space, poking him in the chest with a finger.

"Stop reprimanding Dan. She's the captain, not you. If you have a problem, take her aside and angrily whisper your complaint. Then come back with a united front," Neil advised with a hint of disdain.

Kevin pulled at his racquet again, but Neil persisted. He wasn’t finished. "That's how it works in a normal team that doesn't need to cater to some egotistical prick with an inferiority complex. A man-child who chooses to break someone instead of working on and bettering himself."

"You can't say this," Kevin uttered in fear, his pupils dilated as he glanced around, like he was expecting Riko to materialize out of thin air.

"Why not?" Neil exclaimed. "He's not here." Shouting into the void, he continued, "Riko Moriyama’s leadership skills are more pathetic than a tantrum-throwing toddler. He couldn't lead a group of ants to a sugar cube, let alone an Exy team." Then, with a smirk, he added, "See, nothing happened.”

“Lay off,” Andrew said in monotone, casually pulling Kevin away. Aaron and Nicky formed a wall between Neil and their family. Neil just raised an eyebrow in question. Andrew put a hand on Kevin’s neck, quietly saying something. 

Did he hit a nerve?

"It's exposure therapy. Maybe cursing Riko into the void would help Kevin see that he can badmouth Riko without consequences."

If he noticed Dan slipping a bill into Seth’s open palm, he didn't comment.

Neil responded by theatrically throwing his hands up in an exaggerated shrug and stepped back, providing more room. Aaron and Nicky visibly relaxed as they retreated too. Kevin, with Andrew's reassuring hand on his neck, took a few more deep breaths to regain his composure before Andrew stepped away as well.

Kevin posed a question; maybe for the first time in his life, he sought advice without being driven by fear, "And if you were in my shoes, what would you say to the team?"

Neil took this as a chance to encourage Kevin to do better at coaching. “Nicky’s gotta quit being scared to tackle small players.” He pointed at Nicky, who took the chance to look offended, “but I've met his family, so maybe he's earned the right to be afraid of midgets going for his kneecaps,” Neil quipped in a more casual tone.

"What about the rest?" Kevin asked.

"The rest don't really need advice," Neil clarified. "Seth, Allison, and Dan don’t need me to tell them that they play better when they are not totally pissed off and uncooperative; they're not stupid. Matt and Renee are great, but they are too busy keeping everyone else away from murder to actually play.”

He nodded toward the rest of the team, "Andrew and Aaron, too. They don’t lack skill, just motivation, and that's not something you can fix with a couple of words."

Kevin, his voice laced with urgency, closed the gap between them. "We can't just stand here; we need to address this. The practice can't continue if no one is putting in the effort." 

Andrew, his gaze unwavering, followed Kevin’s movement with his eyes, not stopping Kevin from standing closer to Neil.

"News flash: telling people to cool off and cooperate usually ends in the opposite result.” Neil crossed his arms, not backing away from Kevin. “Good coaching requires you to address emotional distress, not just physical abilities.”

Neil sought inspiration from Nathaniel's past experiences with excellent captains in professional leagues, finding some helpful tips. "Let's use all that rage from the latest news to fuel ourselves." Neil turned to Allison and Seth. "So, tell me, are you two more 'beat someone up' angry or 'run someone over' angry?"

"Both," Seth replied, while Allison flashed a mischievous grin. Neil had a nagging feeling he was about to regret this. Their amused expressions suggested they were cooperating solely to send a 'screw you' to Kevin, whose criticism they had been blatantly ignoring for the past hour.

“How about you both try to steal the ball from me, and I'll try to keep it. No ten-step rule applies, but only legal tackles and ball snatches,” Neil suggested. “Dan could do her own thing with Matt and Renee, and you can continue working with your buddies,” he gestured towards Andrew’s family. “No, telling someone what to do requires trust, they don’t have it with me,” Neil interrupted Kevin before he could whine about how Neil should have managed the Minyards, too.

“Are you sure you can handle them?” Dan stepped near him, gesturing with her head to Allison and Seth. ”You don’t have to do this; it’s my and Kevin's jobs to reprimand the team.”

Dan had been trying to pull Neil into her group, along with Matt and Renee, but between Neil only showing up for morning practices, and the upperclassmen’s preoccupation with the 'Meth Lab' drama – trying to convince the University that Matt was clean and covering both Seth and Reggie’s asses, this left Dan with barely any time to actually meet and get to know Neil, though she still gave it her best shot during practice. Neil knew that her heart was in the right place, but her overbearing behavior was starting to grate on his nerves.  Not to mention her habit of dropping hints about distancing himself from Kevin and his friends. Her persistent meddling only made him more annoyed.

"Don't fret, Dan," Neil reassured her, waving his hands dismissively. “Having angry people chasing me with sticks just reminds me of my home.”  

Dan, however, was not reassured. 

“It’s a joke, obviously,” Neil added after she exchanged a concerned look with Matt. That was true; his parents never ran after him with sticks when he was in Baltimore. They did it with daggers and cleavers.

At first, Allison and Seth went easy on him, but their playful pursuit quickly turned into a frustrating game of cat and mouse. Neil, with his nimble reflexes and infuriating resilience, would effortlessly slip through their grasp, leaving them both exasperated and empty-handed. Their once lighthearted chase had evolved into a daunting mission, a testament to Neil's uncanny ability to evade capture. The game intensified as Allison and Seth, fueled by spite and a fierce determination not to be outdone by a newcomer, switched gears, adopting a more aggressive and rule-bending approach. In the final fifteen minutes, Neil found himself facing an onslaught of moves that seemed to blur the lines of Exy's legal boundaries and reciprocated with his own. He suspected that the game had veered into questionable territory of a ‘Hammer The Striker’ kind of game. It seemed like Dan agreed with him.

“Josten, those parkour moves on the glass aren't gonna cut it in a real game. And neither is launching your racquet like a fucking spear at Josten. Looking at you, Allison!” Dan yelled from across the court, ”Seth, you're no better throwing away your racquet so you could hurl Neil up like a sack of potatoes.”

Maybe they all got a bit too competitive with this. 

“What - The - Fuck - Are - You?” Seth gasped for air, emphasizing each word between breaths. Allison collapsed alongside him, also out of stamina. They both watched Neil, who was still standing up. 

“I am a monument to all your sins,” Neil deadpanned, hoping to crack someone up, like Aaron, but his joke flopped. Maybe he was losing his funny bone.

“You are freaking Speedy Gonzales in human form, that's what you are,” Allison chimed in from the floor. Neil slid down, too tired to keep up the act of stamina-superiority, and joined the 'collapse on the floor‘ club.

The practice was a success by Neil’s standards: no one committed a felony and no one was nursing an injury more than standard game fatigue. Not bad for a training that started with death threats. Kevin might have hoisted Neil onto the nearest piece of furniture to rest, hostage to another 'beds are good' lecture, but that was beside the point.

Duty called for Neil the next day. He would have to skip the morning training because today was the day to meet his employees.

Neil left a note for Wymack on the coffee machine, simply stating, "Not today, have business." Coach Wymack would surely get it.

Today was the day he finally breathed life into Amanda Klun, making her a real person with a distinct personality. He forgot just one teensy weensy, but ever so crucial, little, tiny detail: all his character repertoire consisted of shy, barely-there, forgettable teens, a far cry from the kind of intimidating presence a crime boss needs. And giving her his own personality? Too risky.

In desperation, Neil found himself trading precious Exy time for the library, burying himself in law dramas. The goal was to find a character, any character, that could serve as the foundation for Amanda Klun, the coldhearted spy he was supposed to portray. The clock was ticking - his employees were due to arrive at one p.m, leaving him just under five hours to pull off this grand charade.

Chapter Text

Neil carefully applied the makeup. It was the set he “borrowed” from Mika when he ran away. Luckily, she was never one to be materialistic, so he knew she wouldn't miss it. Instead, it would serve as a keepsake for him, a constant reminder of her.

He had to break into Wymack's apartment again because he clearly wasn't skilled enough to try to do the makeover without a mirror. In the bathroom, he applied it slowly, remembering Mika's instructions after she had once noticed the poorly removed mascara on his face. In his defense, it had been pretty good eyeshadow for someone who had never used cosmetics before.

A nostalgic grin softened Neil's features as he recalled the women who taught him cosmetology. Mika always rolled with the punches, never intruding on his privacy. The day she commenced instructing him on cosmetics perfectly illustrated this. Rather than prying into his reasons, she instead demonstrated to him how to remove makeup properly and create a killer ‘double flick’ on his eyes. 

Anita helped in her own way once after a practice, when she noticed Mika testing some concealer on Neil. She pulled out her make-up bag and chucked a foundation bottle at Neil’s head, declaring that even with his tan, Mika's shade was too dark for him. Apparently Anita could excuse his bad personality but not him having a face that didn’t match his neck. 

Those two were practically the ones who created his ‘Amanda Klun’ appearance, making adjustments to his makeup with playful touches from their own kits.

Another soothing memory washed over him, as he applied the rouge to his face. 

Mika's support went far beyond a touch of concealer, so Neil sought an opportunity to return the favor. After some investigation, which Ahmed once jokingly called "stalking," he discovered that Mika's father was a verbally abusive alcoholic. Neil's blood boiled with anger, but luckily for her, he had some experience in getting rid of unnecessary family members.

Once, after she complained about her father making her mother cry again, all while looking pathetic and asking for more money, Neil mused, ‘maybe I should push Mika's father down the stairs, then plead ignorance until the morning’, contemplating his preferred solution. But he concluded that their friendship hadn't reached the stage where he could casually suggest to cripple or straight up kill her father — yet. Perhaps mild poisoning would be more acceptable.

He decided to give her the less radical suggestion, “Why not crumble some sleeping pills into his vodka?” Neil brandished a half-empty bottle of said sleeping pills, rattling them playfully. Mika frowned. She didn't look like someone who got spectacular advice. She looked flabbergasted.

Neil nonchalantly shrugged. “Hey, wouldn't you rather deal with a sleepy drunk than an angry, violent one? Besides, his liver's probably already beyond repair."

In the end, they didn’t go with either of Neil's plans. Mika just thanked him for his consideration. She did ask, though, why he had sleeping pills ready to use. Neil avoided the question by muttering ,"for reasons," and swiftly transitioning to a different topic.

When his time in Millport ran out, and he had to leave, Neil leveraged his connections to get Mika's father a job that required him to spend a significant amount of time out of state. Better to do something than nothing.

Exhilaration bubbled through Neil's chest, stirring a cascade of cheerful memories. He felt good, truly good. One day he would call Mika, he would call all his Millport friends. One day.

Neil meticulously smeared the foundation, seamlessly blending it with his neck. This was another small step in his elaborate charade. Each stroke was a deliberate effort, transforming him into Amanda Klun while preserving his own carefully constructed mask.  Neil added the finishing touches and looked at himself in the mirror, feeling comfortable with his reflection.

A grin sparked on Neil’s face, he was amazed by the complete lack of resemblance between Amanda Klun and his other aliases - Abram, Stephen, or any other he'd worn throughout the past nine years. Amanda didn't even share a glimpse of Neil Josten. Makeup, he realized with a touch of awe, truly was magic. Neil reveled in the reflection staring back at him, a reflection devoid of his father's shadow, with a smile that finally felt his own.

He braided his hair into a fishtail. His mom taught him how to do it, so he could help her create the illusion of a normal mother. Neil would do her hair while she hummed and applied makeup, the facade momentarily revealed a fleeting trace of authentic happiness in her eyes—a memory that now carried a bittersweet flavor.

Neil cast one final glance at his reflection, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He had mastered the look and personality; now, all that remained was to charm his employees. 

With a light skip in his step and a cheerful melody on his lips, a tune his mother once sang, Amanda Klun stepped out of the apartment.

The tension finally loosened its grip as Amanda exhaled, releasing the last remnants of anxiety. Stepping into the agency, he began setting up for the day's business, double-checking the network, firewalls, and cyber protection. This part was crucial, as a security leak could spell disaster for an information broker, and considering his sources, nothing would raise more eyebrows than Amanda seemingly conjuring information from thin air. Amanda meticulously set up his workstation, then put on the pre-recorded congratulation with Ghost's voice. It would welcome the newcomers and instruct them to follow the lead of Amanda, his trusted second-in-command. He planned to use Ghost’s secret spymaster thing as an excuse for why they would never meet him face to face.

A woman approached, first pausing outside the shop to scan the area with a hint of suspicion. Sofia Russo glided in, towering over Amanda with 6 inch heels and a fashion-show look, and she shined an aura that was eerily reminiscent of Allison's future self. Her self-assured demeanor exuded outward, with the intense focus in her gaze hinting at an unspoken menace—a pledge of potential peril concealed beneath the exterior.

She was exactly as Nathaniel remembered her.

Sofia’s mutilated body lay sprawled across the bloodstained cot. Nathaniel didn’t need to use his imagination to guess what the Bratva did to her. Chunks of hair, nails and some fingers were missing, her face was stuck in a silent scream. There were others, some barely clinging to life, that displayed similar marks of torture and suffering. He shot point blank all the living ones, a small mercy. On whose blood was he stepping? He didn't know.

But what happened there? He knew. And he chose to let it happen. 

Amanda paused, forcing down the tide of emotions that threatened to swallow him. Nathaniel harbored a multitude of memories—ones that Amanda had to seal and bury deep within his mind. These recollections were deemed too perilous to delve into. He didn't want to know about Nathaniel's schemes, his twisted path of vengeance. Yet, some memories refused to stay buried, erupting like unwelcome guests, their intensity taking him by surprise. Perhaps it was Nathaniel's regret, a specter from the past, momentarily breaking through the carefully constructed barriers in Amanda's mind.

Luckily, Amanda knew how to keep his facial expression lax, courtesy of dear Nathan. Apparently showing fear in front of the wrong crowd was a big no-no in Nathan’s book, and he made sure Amanda would understand it.

"Hello, Sofia," Amanda said, forcing a warm smile as he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Amanda Klun, but you can just call me Amanda."

Sofia grasped his hand, then surprised him by pulling him into a quick hug. "My god," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with awe. "You're so pretty, so tiny, like a delicate fairy."

Amanda's smile faltered slightly. He wasn't used to such direct and effusive praise. He felt a flicker of insecurity, wondering if she was being genuine or simply playing a role.

At that moment, Andrea Colombo arrived, lingering near the door and taking in the scene with a slow, assessing gaze. "Nice view," he drawled, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "I'm Andrea, by the way." His words, delivered with a slight smirk, were directed at both Amanda and Sofia.

Andrea cried out when Nathaniel found him, his body ravaged by burns, electrocution scars, and the missing leg that bled profusely. "No, no, no... stop, I will tell you anything!" he screamed, his voice raw with pain and fear. He didn’t even recognize Nathaniel. It was too late, the Bratva men already gone. They left him here to die. Nathaniel knew that the Bratva kidnapped his mother to get to him. He hoped she at least died peacefully, he knew Andrea wouldn’t.  Nathaniel didn’t regret his choice. He no longer believed in one. Still, he shot Andrea in the head, stopping his pleading.

‘This isn't me, this didn’t happen’, Amanda chanted internally, desperately trying to stem the rising tide of panic.

Amanda waved, suppressing the turmoil within him, “Come here, nice to meet you too. I’m Amanda,” he gave another reassuring smile. He led the two inside, showing them around the place. The shop Amanda had secured was a two-story building. The upstairs housed a mini-apartment with all the necessary utilities, while the downstairs was divided into two sections: the public area, which housed the “travel agency”, and the back-room, which contained the control center for the real job. 

Amanda tried to beat back the rising panic in his gut. No room for doubts now, not a chance. All that library time felt useless. The persona he characterized dissolved under the pressure, replaced by his instinctive "default setting" personality when in danger, imaginary or real.

"Good job," Anton, Nathaniel's Bratva contact, grunted in his thick Russian accent. "Our job here is done. As promised, we'll leave the cleanup to you." The group of men followed Anton out, leaving Nathaniel to deal with what was left. That was the punishment he inflicted on himself, a poor price for breaking his own code and using innocent people as a stepping stone. 

‘This isn't me, this didn’t happen’, he kept repeating this in his mind.

"I hope you'll get comfortable here. As the job description states, you'll need to live here. Unless unforeseen circumstances arise, one of you will always be required to be present." Amanda led them to the control center. "Now, let's hear from our boss, Ghost. Unfortunately, Luca was too busy to squeeze in a meeting. He may find time at a later date." Amanda sat behind a massive table, gesturing for them to join him on the opposite side. He commenced his charade, mimicking the motions of connecting a computer to a secure phone line. His face, etched with concentration, betrayed not a shred of doubt in his performance.

“Getting to live with two pretty women, I couldn’t sign fast enough,” Andrea joked, at least that's what Amanda felt from his tone.

“I know how to remove a dick under a minute,” Sofia casually said, her easy demeanor changing to a harder glare.

“I know how to castrate someone in under seven minutes, and the man would also survive it,” Amanda deadpanned. He really knew; his mom made him practice. A low whistle of admiration escaped Sofia's lips as she raised a thumb up to Amanda.

“I feel so attacked right now,” Andrea quipped, feigning fear with a dramatic shiver while guarding his crotch. Sofia held her intense gaze for a beat, then both dissolved into matching grins.

“Andrea and I go way back, we’re cool,“ Sofia chuckled, giving Andrea a light shove.

“Yeah, we're cool. Sofia could step on me while pouring hot tea into my lap, and I would say sorry to her. The Canadian in me, ey,” Andrea shoved her back playfully.

"Kinky," Amanda deadpanned, tilting his head to study their faces. 

A wave of relief washed over Amanda. He had judged their characters correctly. Their strong friendship, evident both from Nathaniel’s memories and their current interaction, solidified his decision to pair them. Amanda pressed play as another memory washed over him, drowning the sound of his Ghost voice.

Nathaniel's year-long manipulation of Luca had finally borne fruit. Luca had become the perfect pawn in Nathaniel's plan. Throughout the year he carefully cultivated a friendship and slowly fed Luca a potent cocktail of drugs. Gradually adding small portions of harder drugs into Luca’s regular party drugs, increasing them until Luca became a mindless mess who spilled everything he knew to Nathaniel. Luca didn’t know what the Bratva needed, but he knew who may have the information. So by using Luca’s name, Nathaniel invited the suspects to a secluded location, giving the Bratva a chance to ambush them. It was so easy. 

Stupid, stupid Luca and his naive belief that daddy would always save him. But even the Italian Don wouldn’t save someone from the strong hold an opiate has on the body. Or his own stupidity.  Nathaniel ignored the screams, he recognized most of the people the Bratva took to interrogate. Still he chose to let it happen. 

Amanda chanted in his head, ‘Not me, not me, not me,’ reminding himself that the memory had nothing to do with him.

"Is it just me, or does our boss have the thickest smokiest Italian gangster voice ever?" Andrea asked, presumably after Ghost left the call. "I'm so glad I'm working with you, Amanda, because this man sounds like he could give me a good spanking like I'm a naughty child, and honestly, I might just thank him for the experience!"

Amanda probably would have been a bit concerned with this, if he didn’t have to hide the reaction to the vivid memories of Andrea's demise. 

"Me too! I thought maybe I was just imagining it, he sounds like he was taken straight from the ‘Sopranos’ set," Sofia sighed, relieved. "Andrea’s strange fascination with being dominated by the boss aside, I'm glad it's not just me. Now, what exactly did Ghost say?"

Maybe Amada had gone a bit overboard with the ‘Godfather’ impersonation.

“You two are also welcome to dominate me,” Andrea commented, but they ignored him.

"It's only the first day, so no thanks," Amanda replied, opening a presentation he had prepared earlier. "This is the schedule for next week." He stood up and pointed at the relevant section with a laser pointer, slowly explaining who, when, and where the information would be sold. 

They were all bored, Amanda included. The monotonous task felt like drudgery, but it was the only thing he could manage while Nathaniel's relentless flashbacks flooded his mind. All the carefully rehearsed small talk and jokes that Neil had crafted in the library, the meticulously planned script of charming anecdotes, went to waste, leaving him with just the bare minimum of a personality. In an attempt to conceal what was happening inside his mind, he flattened his voice, speaking in a monotone.

Nathaniel stepped into the imposing loan-shark office. The Bratva might not be known for their originality, but they were the only ones who agreed to meet him. Without sufficient resources to continue the revenge on his own, Nathaniel offered a tempting bargain for their collaboration.

He would infiltrate the Italian mob and provide them with the information needed to pressure the Don into allowing the Bratva to establish a new smuggling route within their territory. And they would send him discreetly to their branch in Moskva afterwards. While entering, Nathaniel left his conscience by the door; he wouldn’t need it anymore.

Amanda fought to contain the anger churning within him at Nathaniel's choices. 

What good would it do to dwell on something already done? Yet, he couldn't shake the sickening feeling that gnawed at his stomach – the knowledge that Nathaniel had partnered with the Bratva, notorious for their involvement in sex trafficking. 

“Sofia, I need you to be as rude as possible to civilian customers, I don’t want people loitering here in hope to get your number,” Amanda instructed, pointing at her.

“Are you granting me permission to fulfill every rental worker's wet dream?" Sofia exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“What about me?” Andrea pointed at himself.

“Be as nice as possible and people would leave by their own account,” Amada stared blankly at him.

"Oh, the agony! The blatant unfairness! My delicate sensibilities simply cannot take it! The discrimination!" Andrea declared, fanning himself with a hand as if overcome by the injustice.

“Sofia’s jokes actually land, yours …. Not so much.” Amanda stared into Andrea's soul until he was squirming in his seat.

Amanda's momentary amusement was cut short, replaced by a wave of something more intricate. "Tell me about yourself?" he said, just before it struck him.

Andrew's funeral ended, leaving behind a hollow silence that clawed at Neil's insides. Andrew's absence was a gaping hole in the world, a raw wound that refused to heal. 

Originally the doctors didn’t approve of him going. The “accident” that had killed Andrew had burned his body badly. Half a face, two arms, and the left leg had a third-degree burn.

But he just couldn’t miss it. 

Another tidal wave of grief threatened to drown him, but as the numbness receded, a cold, searing pain took its place. Andrew's face, etched in his memory, was a canvas of agony now, a constant reminder of what he'd lost. He was still in crutches, but that didn’t stop Aaron from jumping him and beating him while screaming at him. Aaron's words, fueled by grief and twisted blame, were a cruel echo in his mind. "Your fault. It's all your fault." They reverberated in the cavernous emptiness, a mantra of self-flagellation. He couldn't deny it. The others separated them, and tried to reassure him that he was not to blame. However, it was his fault. Andrew once told Neil Josten to stay, but now Andrew was gone. And he couldn’t be Neil if there was no Andrew. So he resurrected Nathaniel from the grave. He would make Moriyama pay. Andrew didn’t believe in revenge, but that's all Nathaniel had to offer. 

He would disappear. Nathaniel would become a phantom, a whisper of vengeance dancing in the darkness. This was his penance, his offering to Andrew's memory. Not a grand gesture, but a flicker of defiance in the face of loss, a promise whispered in the wind: Andrew would be avenged.

“... and then I shot down his Chuck E. Cheese costume suggestion faster than a rogue Slinky toy on a sugar rush,” Andrea's voice jolted Amanda back to reality. “Sure, I'm all for indulging his wife's... unique fantasies involving furry rodents and mountains of questionable dairy products. But the line gets drawn at the biohazard zone that's probably festering inside that thing…”

His heart hammered against his ribs, too fast. 

Boom-bam . Boom-bam . Boom . Boom . Bam . Boom-bam.

Amanda needed air. Now.

He feigned receiving a call, signaling to the other two that he would be back in a minute. Despite the tension, he forced himself to walk calmly to the second floor. There he locked himself in the bathroom, finally letting himself take a sharp breath. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to pull himself together. 

‘That is not my fate; I won’t become him,’ Amanda chanted, but the mind was never an easy beast to tame. He was afraid to check his reflection in the mirror. What if he saw Nathan there? Or worse, what if it was Nathaniel staring back at him?

Amanda felt the panic rising in his throat, choking him—like Nathan’s hands when he accidentally acted his age, like his mother’s hands when he kissed a girl, like Aaron's hands when his brother was gone. Alongside it was grief, a stranger’s grief. Amanda was drowning in a stranger's emotions, ones that did not belong to him. He wasn’t him. He was Amanda... no, Abram... no... He was Neil Josten, and he would forge his own path. But for now, he would become Stephen.

Stephen remembered Alice’s advice.  He thought about three sensations he felt and things he saw. Stephen saw Sofia’s dead body, Andrea’s dead body, Nathaniel’s dead body. So much death.

All dead , all dead, All the crushed dreams under Nathaniel’s Vengeance.

He breathed in as slowly, deeply, and gently as he could.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And relax .

He thought again about what he saw and felt. Sofia’s vibrant complexion, Andrea’s awkward attempts at jokes, and Nathaniel’s chilling absence – all served as reminders of his survival. He was alive, as Amanda, as Neil, as Abram. He was alive, and he wasn’t Nathaniel.

Stephen took another breath and felt ready to be Amanda again.

Amanda contemplated the possibility of severing all ties with Andrew, even as a friend, and certainly keeping his distance from Kevin, the original Yakuza boy.

‘No,’ the voice in his head resonated, ‘You gave up enough in the name of safety. Don’t let fear take even more’. Amanda relaxed, acknowledging the truth. Security wasn't his priority here. He could have stayed far away, biding his time for Moriyama's turnover, and leaving the task of handling Nathan to the young lord Ichiro during the clean-up. But then Kevin and Jean would be vulnerable, and Riko's cruelty would continue unchecked, potentially harming countless Foxes in his pursuit of Kevin.

Amada looked into the mirror, encountering a stern woman's reflection, yet he couldn't muster a smile;  that was lost in this form too. But he would manage.

Amanda came down and lied that the call was about encountering new information to sell. He lied about how happy he was to meet them, how thrilled he was, that this was all fine. Completely fine. 

He was fine. 

Amanda kept going, engaging in small talk, sharing mundane facts, ignoring Nathaniel's memories and the assault they waged on his mind—repeating the process.

The encounter with his employees ended, and Amanda… no, Neil could barely recall why he was initially excited about it in the first place.

Neil wasn't sure how he managed to return to his "place" without experiencing another panic attack. He removed the Amanda disguise, throwing the dress on the floor, fingers trembling as he snatched wet wipes and attacked the makeup with a ferocity that bordered on frenzy, as if each scrubbed layer could somehow bleach away Nathaniel's memories.

Neil felt the sticky sensation of blood between his fingers and looked down, only to realize it was just remnants of concealer on his hands. Probably.

It felt like blood . The apartment wasn't connected to electricity, he couldn’t see. What if it was blood ? He needed to wash it .

It felt like blood . He needed to wash it. 

It felt like blood . The apartment wasn't connected to water, he needed to wash the blood . 

There is no blood . It felt like blood . He needed to wash it.

He didn’t have time for this. There is no blood.

He needed to wash it.

Neil halted, lying on the floor. He then inhaled for four counts, held for four counts, exhaled for four counts, and held for four counts, repeating this cycle for several minutes, or hours, or days. Time bled together as he breathed. Until he finally started feeling like himself rather than the shadow of a stranger. 

“I’m Neil Abram Josten, sub striker of the Palmetto State Foxes. I’m safe,” he said in a low voice between calm breaths. 

The panic attack's aftermath was a cruel combination of hyper vigilance and bone-crushing fatigue. He likely wouldn’t be able to sleep well that night. He knew himself; even if he ran until his lungs screamed, even if he pounded the pavement until his legs turned to jelly, sleep would be a battlefield, sparkled with phantom threats and startled awakenings.

But Neil yearned for sleep. He missed his mom's presence; her existence made him feel safe and watched over.

The voice in his head reminded him. ’There is a perfectly capable adult downstairs who could also keep an eye on you.’ But what if it's beyond Coach's pay grade? Neil hesitated. 

Wymack had proved more than enough that he would stand by his Foxes. 

Did Coach consider him Fox enough? What if he wasn’t welcomed?

‘You are a Fox. You may not be welcome elsewhere, but two floors down would always have a room for you,’ the voice reassured him. He chose.

Neil cradled his box, its familiar weight grounding him. With his plucked bag on his back, he slowly went down the stairs. Doubt gnawed at him: was Wymack truly up to the task or was Neil simply deluding himself?

Neil tapped on the door, and a hefty man swung it open. He found himself momentarily frozen, uncertain why he came here, as the air closed in around him.

There was a big man at the door, and Neil recalled the rule: don't show fear.

There was a strong man at the door, and Neil's confidence wavered - could he handle this alone?

There was a scary man at the door, and Neil straightened his spine to look just a bit bigger. 

There was a man at the door.

Neil squared his shoulders, trying to project an air of defiance.

There was a man at the door, but as the man bent down a bit, it turned out to be just Wymack. Neil exhaled, reassuring himself that everything was okay, that he was fine.

"Hey," Coach said softly, meeting Neil at eye level.

"Hey," Neil returned the greeting, avoiding eye contact with Wymack, feeling a bit like a child. "Can I... can I crash at your place today?"

"Are you safe?" Wymack asked as he fully opened the door, gesturing for Neil to come inside.

Neil fidgeted with his box, his fingers danced across the rough surface of the box, tracing an invisible path of apprehension. What could he say? Physically, he was safe. It's the mind that wavers, the enemy inside that might haunt him tonight.

“I feel safer here,” Neil admitted, swallowing his uncertainty. Perhaps one day, he would feel safe at Coach's flat. 

‘Small steps, the smallest step in the right direction is always better than none,’ Alice's voice guided him. Neil took a step inside the apartment, then another one, and each step became just a bit easier to take.

"What is this?” Wymack asked, pointing at the box, looking quite curious at the only new thing in Neil’s possessions.

“This is a box,” Neil explained, but Coach just furrowed his eyebrows, so Neil elaborated. “It is a good box. Sturdy enough for hiding—I can fit completely inside and go unnoticed. Not flashy, so it won't draw attention. If I sprinkle a bit of garbage on top, people won't bother checking what's inside, allowing me to rest in it."

“It is a nice box," Wymack conceded, his voice gentler now. "But I've got a sofa ready for you if you'd prefer." Neil's grip on the box tightened. Wymack's eyes narrowed, catching the flicker of movement. "Whatever makes you feel safe, kid," he added, his words a low rumble.

Neil tried to make himself relax, reminding himself, 'It's just Coach.' He allowed the tension in his muscles to slowly dissipate. Being with Wymack was safer than being alone. This was the better option. 

“Come,” Coach led him to the kitchen where a table for one was set. "Caught me red-handed with a plate of mystery mush," Wymack grinned, pointing to the table. "But there's enough for two, if you can stomach my culinary disasters."

And Neil usually could, never was a picky eater. The food, an unidentifiable red and gray mess, had Neil's appetite fleeing faster than it ever had. A sudden, unwelcome memory surfaced: a similar sight, except the red wasn't just sauce. He was reminded of how a brain looks outside of a body . How the brains that the Bratva smashed looked when Nathaniel came to clean up. Neil’s stomach lurched, the contents of his recent meal churning back up. With a panicked gasp, Neil bolted towards the bathroom, spilling all he ate down the drain.

"Should I take it personally?" Wymack followed him, handing a glass of water to the visibly distressed Neil. Neil shook his head; it wasn't Coach's fault that Neil lost the lid on these memories.

“... So, a bad day?”

Neil slowly nodded, grasping the water as if its taste could cleanse his mind from Nathaniel's terrors. It couldn’t, but Neil still tried.

"Okay, don't take it the wrong way, but you look like crap. Maybe a little bit of sleep would do wonders for your body," Wymack looked concerned, suggesting that Neil might appear worse than he felt. Neil indeed felt bone-deep exhaustion, but he knew that sleep wouldn't come easily even now.

“Ok,” Neil said, deciding to take another chance with Wymack. He took a shaky breath, the right words hovering just out of reach. "Look, it's stupid, but... could you watch over me tonight?" Shame gnawed at him, the plea feeling both childish and desperately needed. He immediately regretted it.

No questions were asked, no probing for explanations, no looks of pity or ridicule, just a gruff, "Sure, kid" from Wymack. Coach didn’t make a scene, simply extended his support. 

And Neil apparently was Fox enough to receive it.

Wymack let him place the box in the middle of his office. He helped Neil pad the box with blankets and insisted on him using at least one pillow. Neil rechecked all the locks and windows, his movements jerky and tense. Wymack watched silently, not a word escaping his lips as Neil settled down with his stuff, the Exy racquet clutched tightly. He also didn't complain when Neil, constantly startled, made him remain in his desk chair, minimizing his own movements to avoid triggering Neil's anxiety.

The rhythmic clatter of Wymack's keyboard lulled Neil toward sleep, but the mind was never an easy beast to tame; it clawed him awake, leaving him feeling worse for wear and grumbling with hunger. He glanced towards Wymack's desk. The coach was gone, probably snoozing himself, but in his place sat a hefty lunchbox. Curiosity piqued, Neil pulled himself from his box-bed and snatched the note perched on the desk.

He opened it and revealed a whole grilled lamb's leg and tomatoes stuffed with eggplant next to an eggplant-tomatoes-Salat. The lamb's leg, golden and glistening, took center stage, flanked by plump tomatoes bursting with eggplant within. 

Food was usually just fuel, a bland necessity in his nomadic life. But the aroma of roasting meat and the vibrant hues of fresh produce sent a comforting warmth through him. In that moment, a taste of a long-lost ‘home’ bloomed on his tongue.

A full stomach, a rare luxury for Neil, weighed heavy as he drifted to sleep. Yet, in that unexpected fullness, he found his nightmares softened, their edges blunted.

Both mother and Nathaniel let him have peace of mind.

In the following days, things improved for Neil. While he still grappled with memories that weren't truly his own, being away from the mafia stuff made the struggle a bit easier.  

Life carries on regardless.

Kevin got all steamed up about the lost practice and how no one was doing as they were told. 

Dan, Matt, and Renee indulged him with easy topics while doing laps together. 

Seth and Allison ran him ragged, trying to match his speed. 

Aaron and Andrew mostly ignored him. 

Nicky uttered insults in German that weren't suitable for polite company when he badly missed the mark, and engaged Neil with funny anecdotes about the rest of the Foxes. 

There was also the eleven-man brawl that Kevin started with some Riko-fans after practice, pulling in all the 'monsters,' and Andrew finished. Only two people were rushed to the hospital, which was a plus considering how violent Kevin's sneer could make people be. That called for even more vandalism from angry Riko's fans. And before he noticed, the school year came to an end. 

Neil watched Reggie accept his diploma, the bruises marring his face a stark reminder of a past clash. Whether those marks were a parting gift from Andrew or simply the natural consequences of Reggie's "sunny" disposition, Neil couldn't say. But he knew this fleeting glimpse would be their last. It felt more familiar, this brief crossing of paths with someone, more familiar than the certainty of seeing the Foxes again after the break. 

Later most of the Foxes would scatter across the country, leaving him with only Andrew’s group.

Neil never learned how to properly say goodbye, but this time it wasn’t forever. This goodbye carried a different weight, a pause rather than a full stop.

He would see them all again.

Chapter Text

Neil was aware that there were numerous tasks to tackle during the summer break, tasks that needed attention and careful preparation. But he needed to be fine for them. It was the last opportunity to address his own issues in relative privacy before the world's spotlight would turn back on the Foxes. He didn’t have time for this ; he needed to put his paranoia and insomnia in check, and put the lid back on Nathaniel’s horrible experiences. He must be fine .

The fear of what he may become gnawed on him. He couldn't let things repeat, not like the broken record replaying in his nightmares, not like what happened with Nathaniel. People needed to change, including himself .

But to work on himself , he first needed a distraction from himself . As a beloved cartoon-ish uncle once said, “Sometimes the best way to solve your own problems is to help someone else.”

And the one Neil chose to start with was Kevin.

The reasons were twofold: firstly, Kevin was the only one who harbored even a sliver of trust for Neil, and secondly, in the alternate timeline, Kevin was the initial domino to fall, initiating the strain with the Moriyamas.

Kevin's struggles, perhaps, were always present, but unlike most Foxes, he knew how to mask them, hiding every crack and crease that betrayed their presence. Tetsuji Moriyama made sure of it . Or maybe it was plain to see, but healthy coping mechanisms were a foreign concept to the Foxes, unless court-mandated, and even then, barely decipherable. Neither Neil nor Andrew, despite spending the most time with Kevin, noticed the deepening shadows in his eyes as his graduation loomed.

They should have known better. For more than ten years, a hand had always rested on Kevin’s shoulder, guiding him through life's minefield. Riko's grip, once firm and reassuring, had become more controlling with each passing day, replaced by Jean's quiet presence, a warm shadow offering solace instead of direction. Then came Andrew, a storm cloud perpetually hovering overhead, his silence more potent than any reprimand, and finally all the Foxes constantly pushing and shoving him to where to be and what to do. Kevin was always with someone who, on some level, knew what he had been through. Then at 25 he found himself moving on alone.

No one on his new pro team knew Kevin; they knew his public persona but not the real Kevin. And that turned out to be more of a curse than the blessing Kevin had hoped for.

Kevin spent increasing hours on the court, and the team perceived it as dedication. His escalating drinking went unchecked, with the team thinking Kevin deserved to loosen up after all his hard work. As he ate less and less, framing it as a healthier diet, the team bought into it. Kevin slept less and less, and the team attributed it to stress. He was too far for the Foxes to notice the cracks; the Nest had trained him well on how to feign normalcy while everything was falling apart in the background. However, even the great Kevin Day couldn't keep it up forever—something had to give. Ultimately, his liver was the one to lose the race.

The tightrope Kevin had walked for a year and a half, balancing his demons with public expectations, finally snapped. In the wreckage, even his naive pro-team caught on, forcing him to confront his demons in rehab and therapy.

A year. That's what it took Kevin to come back, leaving Neil, Jean, and Andrew to shoulder his portion of the debt and face Moriyama's icy wrath. To say Ichiro, the ever-calculating lord, was disgruntled would be a diplomatic euphemism. He demanded Neil prove his worth, his eyes flickering with scrutiny despite the debts being settled. He said that Kevin's fall had cast a long, cold shadow over his investments.

When Kevin received the green light to return to Exy, Thea didn't hesitate. She uprooted her life, traded teams, and even took a financial hit just to be by his side. Thea took charge of Kevin’s life, monitoring the alcohol intake in the house, keeping an eye on his food consumption, and ensuring he didn't overexert his body. 

As far as Neil knew, the arrangement with Thea still held even during Andrew's funeral. He pondered how Kevin felt about reverting to codependency, even if it was with the love of his life. Perhaps Kevin's mental state had improved while Nathaniel was busy dismantling the Moriyama empire. At least Neil hoped so.

Later, after Thea had stabilized Kevin’s life, Jean, recognizing that there might not be a next time if someone else in their group messed up, compelled Kevin to join therapy with him. He didn't want to witness the emergence of his own demons unchecked. Jean also strongly reasoned with Neil to attend the sessions as a mediator. He pointed out that Neil understood the experience of being Moriyama property, but was also enough of an outsider that he wouldn't be entangled in Ravens politics and brainwashing.

For two years, Neil was a participant in their sessions, aiding the therapist, nicknamed ‘Shrek’, in putting into perspective the dehumanizing experience Jean had endured from the Ravens, and Kevin's constant need to be perfect, while also being placed on a pedestal by them. Shrek highlighted the stark contrast between being a pet to display and perform, and being a tool to use and dispose of, illustrating why both of them could perceive the same events in very different ways. Along the way, Neil addressed some of his own problems.

After that whole mess, Neil thought he had a good grasp of Kevin's main problems and felt pretty comfortable dealing with them. He had a few things in mind to work on. But, first things first, he'd use the summer to get a sense of Kevin's current mental state.

Like the other timeline, Wymack opened his home to Neil. Coach resigned to the fact that he'd never be certain where exactly Neil chose to sleep when not in his box. Wymack had grown accustomed to stumbling upon a napping Neil in the closet or the bath, and, on one memorable occasion, under his bed. No matter what odd behavior Neil exhibited, Wymack just rolled with the punches. It was nice. Oh so nice.

Living with Coach also meant Neil got three square meals a day. Another nice perk.

But, the downside of agreeing to live with Wymack was that now people, mostly Kevin, knew where to find him. Perhaps Neil should reconsider how easily he wanted to be located.

Four men broke into the apartment in the morning.  “Do you have any idea how much I hate being home and finding you breaking into my apartment?” Wymack declared loudly when he heard the flat’s door opening with a bang. When the intruders stumbled into the kitchen, Wymack didn't bother to acknowledge them, so Neil did the same, merely raising an eyebrow at the commotion.

Only one face out of the four held warmth at the sight of Neil – Nicky's. Aaron looked bored and Andrew was smiling, but Neil knew his cheer didn't mean he was going to play nice. He was smiling when he tried to stab into Neil's guts, too. Kevin, the reason for their assembly, was a walking contradiction, a scowl wrestling with a hint of manic anticipation.

“Oh, Coach, can little Neilly come down to play with us?” Andrew asked in a sing-song voice, eyeing Neil's scowl.

“He is a grown-ass adult; he can do what he wants,” Wymack dismissively waved off with his hand, taking a casual sip of his coffee.

"Tell Kevin not to get his panties in a twist; I'm almost done," Neil said, calmly finishing the rest of his coffee. Well, at least until Kevin barged in and swiped the coffee, promptly pouring it down the sink.

“You already missed enough practices,” Kevin impatiently tapped his foot as if sending a Morse code message. He loomed over Neil like a stern teacher, as if expecting a late assignment from the class clown.

Neil acted unfazed, glancing past Kevin to the others, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t know one of you already plugged the exy stick in Kevin’s butt,” He nonchalantly poured himself another cup of coffee. Wymack hummed but otherwise ignored the whole situation. Maybe that was above his pay-grade.

Kevin let out a noise that could only be described as a cross between a deflating balloon and a surprised seagull discovering it can't actually swim. Nicky openly snickered while the twins offered more restrained reactions. Still, Kevin glared at everyone in the kitchen, as if he held them all personally accountable for enabling Neil's sass.

Neil then addressed the one person who could go along with his scheme, without outright seeking Andrew’s permission. "Aaron, would you like a mini pie with some coffee?" He blatantly disregarded the tall man who was glaring holes at him two inches from his face. “They just came out so lovely ,” Neil baited him.

The insomnia kept Neil up most nights, so Wymack had to get used to waking up to baked goods in the morning. Besides complaining about how Neil forced him to ruin the strict diet Abby put him on, he was all for the change. And today there were various mini pies. 

Aaron glanced at Kevin’s open sneer, then at Andrew's obvious glee. “Yeah, sure,” he grunted.

Nicky chimed in, "Who can say no to pie?” 

Andrew followed, eyes sparkling with humor, and promptly redirected half the pies onto his own plate. Kevin dramatically dragged a chair to himself, letting the scratching sound emphasize his dissatisfaction, as a toddler cheated from his promised trip to the playground.

"Sure, help yourself to my food and raid the fridge. It's not like I sleep here and pay the bills or anything," Coach grumbled.

“Glad we settled this point,” Andrew mumbled between bites, a devious glint in his eyes.

Kevin was the only one who abstained from the pastries, instead proposing to make a smoothie with Wymack's leftover vegetables. He even pushed one toward Neil with a silent, judgmental stare. Neil downed it with a grimace that could launch memes. He chose to indulge Kevin's healthy nudges for now, hoping to keep him in a manageable mood. Sometimes friendship means sacrificing your taste buds on the altar of camaraderie.

“We've got a couple hours to kill, so maybe we can take you to the court. Kevin's probably pissing himself with excitement that we can have scrimmages now,” Nicky said, the first to succumb to Kevin's 'mean girl' glare, setting down the food.

"Exy is all Kevin gives a damn about," Aaron said, rolling his eyes. "No matter how much he whines, he secretly wants you on our court more than anyone else."

"Secretly?" Neil scoffed, fully aware that Kevin was quite vocal about exactly where he wanted Neil to be.

Kevin let out an offended squawk but otherwise nodded in agreement. Andrew greedily pocketed the remaining pies, indifferent to the disapproving glares from both Kevin and Wymack. As Coach grabbed the pie plate in a final attempt to save some for himself, Andrew nonchalantly shrugged with a wicked grin, remarking, "I'm a growing boy."

Wymack rubbed his temples with a groan, the fight for order drained from his face.  "Get lost. All of you. I have errands, mountains of laundry, and an Exy season to plan. The breakfast buffet is finished. Nicky, stop stuffing pies in your mouth."  He waved everyone off. “What are you all still doing here?”

Nicky sheepishly returned his half-eaten pies to Wymack's table, who promptly slid them right into the garbage can.

"Leaving," Andrew said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Goodbye. Nielo, are you coming too?"

"Yes!" Kevin answered, tugging Neil from his chair. Neil groaned but let himself be dragged out.

"Don't forget dinner at Abby's place, and return him in a working condition," Coach remarked, already collecting the dirty dishes.

“Jeez, Coach, what kind of people do you think we are?” Nicky asked, now with an empty mouth.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“We're just taking him to the court,” Aaron joined in, though he sounded reluctant to get involved. “We will return him to Abby's later.”

Wymack nodded, then his hand flashed, leaving a metallic echo in the air. Neil snatched the keys before they hit the ground. There were two rings looped together, two keys on one and three on the other. Neil eyed them as Wymack ticked them off on his fingers. "The long key is for when the front gate closes at night. The small one gets you into the apartment. The others are for the stadium: the outer door, gear room, and court doors. Kevin has a matching set, so make him show you which is which. I expect you to make as much use of them as he does."

"Are these really necessary?" Neil asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. Coach had already witnessed him infiltrating all those places.

"Yes, we can't have you constantly jimmying locks. Are you rascals all allergic to legal entry?"

"Yes," both Andrew and Neil responded in unison. Andrew shot him a side glare, as if sharing similarities somehow soured his 'bad boy' vibes.

Neil's fingers curled around the keys, the cold metal oddly comforting. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks," he said. Here, within these walls, he wasn't just Neil, the runaway. He was a player, with a court and a purpose. "I will," he whispered.

"Blatant favoritism, Coach," Andrew remarked.

"If you ever went to the court of your own volition, maybe I'd give you a set too," Wymack grumbled.

"Oh, joy, joy," Andrew's voice went half singsong. "This is my excited face. Can we go?"

"Get out," Wymack said, and Andrew vanished. Nicky and Aaron followed.

Kevin dragged Neil along, providing him with only a brief moment to discreetly stash the keys in his inner pockets.

The rest of the group gathered around the elevator as Neil entered. Any fleeting sense of safety dissipated when the doors slid closed, enclosing him in a ring formed by Nicky and Aaron on his sides and Andrew and Kevin opposite him. Every pair of eyes in the confined space was fixed on Neil. He moved to stand next to Aaron.

"Further dissecting your secrets, Neil-o, will have to wait until June,” Andrew flicked a finger between them with a smirk on his lips and a voice laced with a low growl. ”Abby has promised us lifetime stadium bans if we crack you open before summer. Can't have that, can we? Kevin would cry. But mark my words, once the whole gang is back, and Abby's attention span is spread thinner, we'll throw you a welcome party you won't forget."

“Oh, yes, hello stranger to whom I owe zero of my personal information. Haven't you heard that you can catch more secrets with honey than with vinegar?" Neil regained his confidence; after all, it was just Andrew and his family. They couldn't do anything to him that hadn't already been done by professional hitmen.

Andrew's smile disappeared as he pushed away from the back railing and headed toward Neil. "I don't need to be persuasive," he declared, placing a hand on Neil's chest as the elevator slowed to a stop. Closing the distance, he added, "You'll just learn to do what I say."

The touch felt strange ; Neil didn't like how Andrew's hand made him feel— odd . Neil took a deep breath, tilted his head, and blew straight into Andrew's ear. As Andrew's body responded with a subtle shiver, Neil smoothly stepped around, positioning himself behind Andrew. "My edge might be a little serrated, gotta admit," he whispered into Andrew's other ear, skillfully sidestepping into Kevin's space just in time to avoid Andrew's swinging fist. "Slow to understand, maybe, but always quick on my feet."

Nathaniel used this tactic to make Andrew shudder for a much different reason, but if the shoe fits…

Kevin, being the brat he was, jabbed him in the ribs for the pun. And, just maybe, Neil hallucinated a small chuckle from Aaron.

The doors slid open behind Andrew. As soon as Neil got close enough Andrew pulled him toward the exit. Neil tripped into the lobby. Andrew shoved past him, bumping him from shoulder to hip, and headed for the door. Aaron didn't even look at Neil on his way by.

Nicky stayed behind just long enough to flash a smile at Neil. "Ready for this?" He quickly joined his cousins.

Kevin was a half-step behind them. His hand shot out, grabbing Neil's arm like a vice. “You better be!” he growled, his eyes narrowed.

Neil had, in fact, felt ready. Dealing with the ‘monsters’ felt like a breeze, much easier than the nonsense he would have to endure for his ‘Mafia’ stuff. At the moment, Andrew was just another controlling psychopath, and Neil had grown up around that kind of violence. Managing him would be even easier. Neil just had to be careful.

 “Ready as I'll ever be,” Neil replied back to the annoyed Kevin.

The Foxhole Court wasn't just visible, it announced itself like a neon-drenched carnival barker. its audacious color scheme could assault the eyes from afar by how vivid it was. The court walls were a blinding white with obnoxiously bright orange trim and a gigantic fox paw was painted on each of the four outer walls.

Neil, never one to resist a good spectacle, felt a grin tug at his lips. He concealed his expression with his hand. This, this was where he belonged: amidst the roar of the crowd and the clash of Exy.

"Oh, they finished repainting it," Nicky announced with clear delight, squeezing both Neil and Aaron to the left for a better view from the window. He was also the first one to leave the car so he could marvel at the new paint. The rest exited the car in a more composed manner.

After the last time Ravens fans "visited" Foxhole Court, it transformed into a chaotic explosion of gothic aesthetics in a candy store. Black and red paint adorned the structure, resembling an Exy game gone tragically wrong. This likely offended the Palmetto maintenance team, as they retaliated by covering it with a neon orange shade so vibrant it could remedy night blindness – while potentially causing a severe sunburn in the process. This shade of orange made Dan's freshman captaincy choice appear like a tasteful nude palette.

Looks like orange is the new black , a wandering thought jumped into his mind.

Andrew and Aaron eyed the court with a mix of curiosity and skepticism as Nicky bombarded them with comments about how the new court would showcase the Foxes' fresh image. They'd show everyone, he declared, just what a revamped Foxhole Court could mean for their reputation.

Kevin clapped a hand on Neil's shoulder. "Better hope that all that orange grows on you," he mumbled, more to himself than to Neil. Given Kevin's sensitivity to aesthetics compared to the rest of the ‘monsters’, Neil wished this particular orange color would start haunting Kevin's dreams. Much better than red or black.

“Are we going in or not?” Neil asked

In response, Kevin tapped in the code and pulled the door open. “Go.”

Neil didn't have to be told twice. He went down the hall, already turning his key ring over in his hands. The hall ended at another door marked FOXES. He fingered the appropriate key. It was strange sliding it into the knob and listening to the lock clack undone. Coach Hernandez occasionally let Neil sleep in the Millport High locker room, but it never occurred to him to give Neil a key. Instead he looked the other way whenever Neil broke in. 

Keys meant Neil had explicit permission to be here and do what he liked. They meant he belonged. Finally they were in. 

Kevin and Andrew got inside the court, while Nicky and Aaron went with him to the foyer. Nicky had Neil unlock the gear door, and Aaron got a bucket of balls while Nicky rolled out the stick rack. When they came back geared, Kevin was right where they'd left him, waiting for them in the inner ring. He watched silently as they tugged on their helmets and gloves, and said nothing when Aaron led the way to the home court entrance.

The inner court boasted the same vibrant colors, and Neil's breath caught in awe. "Satellites can pick these up in outer space," he commented gleefully, already anticipating how many of their rival teams would hate playing here without snow-glasses.

Nicky laughed at that. “Oh,” he leaned against the wall a short way down from Neil, watching him closely with something between amusement and bewilderment. ”No wonder Kevin chose you.”

Time to let the cat out of the bag. "Kevin didn't pick me; I went to Coach on my own and convinced him I deserve a scholarship. He agreed, and here I am."

Before Nicky could say more, Kevin yelled, "Move on, we need to practice." The queen had issued his command, and they were humble peasants to follow his lead.

Neil looked at Nicky and asked, "Kevin can't play yet?" He saw Kevin's left arm, and based on his knowledge of injuries and scars, Kevin should have been able to use it. Knowing Kevin, there was no way he would sit out training if he could help it. Something wasn’t adding up.

Nicky seemed taken aback by the question. “Kevin only puts up with our court under two conditions: either he's alone, or Andrew is on it with him. He'll have to adjust this fall when Renee takes over in goal during games, but for now, he can get away with being a snob.”

“Where's Andrew?” Neil inquired next. Nicky appeared oblivious to the situation, but perhaps Andrew was not.

"Andrew just took a dose for the first time after skipping too many, so he could drive. Now he's out cold somewhere. He's going to crash and reboot."

Neil found it to be a pretty cold way to describe his cousin's predicament, so he glanced at Aaron, expecting him to defend his twin. However, Aaron only led the way to half-court, and Neil kept pace with Nicky, idly poking his fingers through the netting on his racquet. He forgot how strangled the Minyard-Hemmick family ties were.

“His left hand is pretty much out,” Nicky explained when he noticed Neil still staring at the un-geared Kevin. “He's playing as a rightie from now on.”

“Of course he is,” Neil drawled, rolling his eyes, not really surprised. Nathaniel spoiled this revelation for him.

Nicky grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “They don't call him an obsessive genius for nothing, you know.”

“It's not genius,” Aaron interjected. “It's pure spite.”

“That too,” Nicky admitted. “I wish I could see the look on Riko's face when he sees our first game. The bastard.”

Kevin pounded on the wall, demanding that they get moving. Nicky waved a dismissive hand at him. “We're doing this voluntarily, you know!” he shouted, fully aware that Kevin couldn't hear him through the court walls. Or, at least, that was the assumption until Kevin strode in, pointedly flipping Nicky the bird before coming to a halt in front of them.

"Show me your body," Kevin demanded, pointing straight at Neil. "I need to see what I'm working with."

"No," Neil squeaked, crossing his arms over his chest, as if he expected Kevin to suddenly develop X-ray vision.

“Scars can impact your movement,” Kevin scolded, placing a hand on his wrist like an impatient mother reprimanding her misbehaving child. “I need to see them, so I can plan the training accordingly.”

“Chill out, Kevin. You can't expect the kid to strip in the middle of the court. He isn't you,” Nicky said, putting a protective hand in front of Neil. “Not in public, Jeez.”

Kevin shot Nicky a pointed look. “Don't think I didn't notice you dragging out practice time so you could slack off more,” Kevin barked.

“This is still voluntary training,” Nicky reminded him. Kevin scoffed but returned to the benches.

"Thanks," Neil responded belatedly, once Kevin was out of hearing distance.

“Huh? Oh, no. Don't worry about it. You can make it up to me some other time when the others aren't around.”

“Can you try and get ass when I'm not standing right here?” Aaron inquired, lightly kicking Nicky’s foot.

“You could leave and let me and Neil get to know each other better.”

"I'll tell Erik on you."

"Bald-faced lie. When's the last time you said a civil word to him?"

Neil didn’t take the bait to ask ‘who is Erik?’ because, whether he wanted it or not, he would hear more than he ever wished about Erik. Better savor his last moment of ignorance.

“He's my husband,” Nicky elaborated happily, even though no one asked. “Or will be, eventually, when I get back to Stuttgart after college.”

… and the moment is gone.

Nicky gazed at him expectantly, prompting Neil to assume a more civil demeanor. Neil was already growing weary of the constant mentions of Erik. “So, you lived in Germany?”

“Ja,” Nicky grinned. “You heard us earlier, right? I helped the punks pass AP German in high school. If you want to take it as an elective, I'll tutor you. I'm good with my tongue.”

The twins and Nicky often spoke German around him during breaks in practices. It was peculiar because most of the time, their conversations revolved around mundane topics like buying ice cream, hiding booze, or doing regular chores. Maybe it was just their way of messing with Kevin. 

After Christmas, thanks to Kevin and Riko's not-so-private Japanese gossip sessions, mostly about Neil himself, he had leveled up his poker face, regardless of the language assaulting his ears.

"Enough. Let's play," Aaron declared, slamming the bucket of balls down, cutting the conversation short.

Nicky gave an exaggerated sigh. “Anyway, remind me to show you Erik’s picture later. Our babies are going to be,“ he sang the last word with a little flourish, ”gorgeous .”

Neil ignored Nicky’s whining about how much he was missing Erik and joined Aaron with a quick jog. They spent the next hour and a half going through various drills. While Neil had done most of them before, there were a few he didn't remember, and it was thrilling to learn something new. The session concluded with a short scrimmage—Neil as the lone striker against two backliners and an open goal.

It quickly became apparent that this mix of players was a mismatch. Neil streaked past Aaron and Nicky, a swift shadow blurring across the court. While Aaron, with his firmer posture, could outmaneuver him, Nicky's panicking stumbles and desperate swerves made it a chaotic struggle. Neil slipped through gaping holes before Aaron could react, pirouetting around Nicky's lunges like a predator toying with its prey. The space Aaron had to cover alone, thanks to Nicky's absence, was vast; by the time he considered closing it, Neil's relentless speed had already devoured it.

Kevin’s unhelpful yells to be faster and focused just further fueled Nicky’s anxiety and thus made his playing style even slower and messier. Kevin clearly didn’t read any coaching books, as Neil had instructed him. The stick and the carrot should be the first tactics mentioned in these.

Neil stopped. “You Ok?” He used his more gentle tone.

Nicky smeared his cheek against his shoulder, trying to wipe sweat off onto his jersey. He weakly smiled at Neil. “It's ok. Kevin may be an unforgiving tutor, and he doesn't know how to be nice. He can piss anyone off on an Exy court, except Renee, but she's not human so she doesn't count.” 

Neil waited for the ‘but’ part, but it never came. “At least you did your best,” Neil encouraged him.

Aaron snorted. "Kevin would kill himself if he heard that."

"Yeah," Nicky sounded remarkably unconcerned by this damning assessment. "Kevin thinks we're a waste of oxygen, actually." Aaron hummed in approval.

“Speaking of…” Nicky tipped his head toward the wall. “Someone's ready to get his hands back on you.”

Neil followed the gesture and peered through the wall toward the Foxes' benches. “Great. I have a couple of pointed words to say to him too.” He watched as Kevin stepped back on the court. With half the court between them, Neil could still feel Kevin's gaze like a physical weight. The fool likely came to ask why they stopped playing.

"Oh, you're finally here, because you owe all of us a compliment," Neil drawled, mimicking Kevin's scolding stance as Kevin approached them. If Kevin's expression could be called bewilderment, it paled in comparison to the utter perplexity plastered across Aaron and Nicky's faces.

“Wait, what?!” Kevin croaked, the word tumbling out like a broken bird. 

Neil, unfazed, pressed his advantage. “You once again half-assed your coaching assignment. So, did you, like, actually read the coaching manuals this time? You missed it, didn't you? The compliment-complaint rule. Looks like someone owes us some praise, coach assistant."

Kevin at least had the audacity to look a bit ashamed, but quickly snapped back to himself. “I would compliment you when you do something worth complimenting.” 

"Uh-uh," Neil hummed in disapproval. "Now praise Nicky. Look, you gave him anxiety." He pointed at the sheepish Nicky. Neither man would yield, their gazes locked in a silent battle. 

Nicky, caught in the crossfire, stammered, "I'm ok, really…" but Aaron cut him off with a hand. 

"Let them duke it out, Nicky. Let's see where this goes."

The silent duel of wills ended, not with a bang, but with a blink. Kevin, his shoulders slumping slightly, broke eye contact first, unable to sustain the challenge against Neil's unwavering gaze. Years of staring down Andrew Minyard, the undisputed champion of unsettling stares, had honed Neil's skills to a razor's edge.

“Fine,” Kevin said with a sulk that would rival a fussy toddler. “Well, Nicky, your speed is like a well-thought-out strategy, it takes its time to unfold; and your independent style in team sports is truly a bold interpretation of collaboration.”

Of course Nicky looked even more restless, and even Aaron shot Kevin a disdainful glare for this.

Neil sighed, “If you had read the books, you would have known that backhanded compliments are not indeed compliments. Try again.”

"Can he maybe not..." Nicky muttered quietly, his words going unheard. Kevin, determined, straightened his lips. Neil, though, met his eyes with a challenge that wouldn't be ignored.

This time, it was Kevin's turn to sigh loudly. "Neil is fast, even I ... and Riko," he whispered the last part, "had problems catching him one-on-one. You need to work with Aaron. You usually do great; just don’t let insecurity make you forget that."

Neil was surprised that Kevin actually managed to pull an honest-to-god helpful compliment and suggestion. But not as surprised as Nicky and Aaron were. The boy finally learned a bit about how not to make everyone want to strangle him.

“Thanks,” Nicky looked almost impressed with Kevin’s bare-minimum pleasantry.

"Time's up," Aaron declared, nodding toward the benches. Andrew had reappeared, sprawled on his back, playing catch with a spare ball. Collecting their equipment, they rejoined him.

With a final clang, the court door sealed them out, leaving only the echo and Andrew's bored ball tossing. Andrew, sprawled on the bench, flicked his wrist, sending the ball spiraling toward Nicky in a lazy arc. He had brought a mini bottle of vodka with him and left it on the ground by his feet. He plucked it up, the seal popping with a satisfying hiss. "Took you long enough, Nicky. I was starting to sprout moss here."

“We're done now,” Nicky sighed, hooking his helmet over the end of his racquet. “About time you stop that, don't you think? Abby's going to beat me senseless if she realizes you've been drinking.”

Nicky dove for the vodka, hand outstretched, but Andrew held it aloft, a cruel grin twisting his lips. "Sounds like a you-and-Abby issue, Nicky," he taunted, voice slick with amusement.

Nicky looked to Aaron for help, but Aaron went ahead of them to the locker room.  Nicky's jaw clenched, then he rolled his eyes, miming a gunshot blowing his own brains out, and went with him. Neil meant to go after them, but he'd made the mistake of looking at Kevin. 

Kevin's expression was indecipherable. Whatever it was, it didn't look particularly happy. “This is going to be a very long season.”

Oh, you won't believe how much that statement would be true, but not in the way you think.

Neil met the statement with a shrug so careless it bordered on insolent. Kevin's face loomed inches away, his dark eyes burning into Neil. In a flash, his fingers darted through the net, snagging it around Neil's racquet. When he started to pull it away, Neil held on tighter, silently refusing to let go.

“If you won’t play for me. Play with me,” Kevin declared, looking deep into Neil's skeptical eyes. "Give me your game, and I will get you there."

Neil gazed back at him in silence. Kevin must have seen that in the unimpressed look on his face because he reached up and covered Neil's eyes with his free hand.

“Forget the ghosts of your past,” Kevin barked. "Forget the Foxes, the Ravens, even your family drama, and … the Christmas mess," he mumbled the last part, barely audible. “See it the only way it really matters, where Exy is the only road to take. What do you see?”

Kevin let his hand fall back, observing Neil’s expression. Neil faltered, the words tangled in his throat like barbed wire. His gaze flickered away from Kevin, revealing a sliver of vulnerability that vanished as quickly as it came. Kevin snatched the racquet with a sharp tug, his eyes hard. "Focus."

Neil swallowed, the weight of expectation pressing down on him. This road might lead him to doom, yet it also held the potential for salvation. Despite all his grievances with Kevin, neither he nor Nathaniel could navigate their paths without Kevin's outstretched hand and the promise that they were worth the shot. “A future,” he rasped, each word a struggle. “A possibility, and you.”

Kevin pulled at his racquet again, and this time Neil let go.

“Neil understands,” Kevin said, his grip loosened on the racquet, a fleeting flicker of relief crossing his face. He sent Andrew a pointed look.

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose! Since I have none to give, I will tell the others to respond appropriately.” Andrew pushed himself to his feet and swallowed more vodka on the way up.

Kevin glanced at Andrew, but his gaze was glued to Neil, a curious intensity flickering in his eyes. “Kevin, let’s go. I need food.” Neil couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy about Andrew's apparent interest.

After they all got ready, Nicky took the keys from Andrew, jingling them and diverting Neil's attention from the knot of anticipation tightening in his stomach. "First-timer privilege, Josten! Shotgun's yours," Nicky announced with a wink. "Savor it because Kev takes the backseat like a grumpy bear."

“I don't have to sit up front,” Neil said, but Kevin and the twins were already piling into the backseat, with Kevin inevitably ending up wedged in the middle like a reluctant filling. The seating arrangement left Andrew looming behind Neil, and he couldn't help but hope the drive wouldn't be too long.

Abby lived about five minutes from campus. Two cars already claimed the driveway, so Nicky claimed the curb in front of the house, being sure to not block the mailbox. The front door was unlocked, so they let themselves in without knocking, and they were greeted by the thick smells of garlic and warm tomato sauce. Coach Wymack, grumbling like a bear woken from hibernation, rummaged through the silverware drawer, while Abby, armed with a wooden spoon, conjured something fragrant in a pot on the stove. Wymack's head whipped up, eyes laser-focused on the Foxes. "Finally," he grumbled, his gruffness softened by a flicker of a smile, "the cavalry arrives."

One by one they were all pulled to help set the table. Even Andrew found himself assigned a task he couldn't decline: organizing the desserts.

"Shall we begin our meal?" Abby declared, signaling for everyone to join the room and take their seats, confirming that dinner was ready.

Neil's appetite had been aroused by the tempting aroma, yet he deliberately chose a seat at the table that kept him at a distance from Kevin and Andrew. As everyone found their places and served themselves, the conversation lulled momentarily but resumed as they delved into hearty portions of piping-hot lasagna. Neil made a conscious effort to remain on the sidelines, his focus primarily on observing the dynamics of their interaction.

The dinner table became a quilt of conversation, woven with laughter and the familiar fabric of shared experiences. Occasionally, the pattern shifted as Kevin and Wymack became engrossed in the tales of spring training, their voices echoing like distant thunder. Simultaneously, Nicky entertained the other side of the table with stories about movies and celebrities. Andrew observed Kevin and Wymack, although he had nothing to add to the discussion. Instead, he hummed a tuneless melody to himself, and his fork meandered aimlessly through the untouched terrain of his food.

Neil struggled to suppress the longing of a stranger in his mind, a pang of hiraeth washing over him. This was not his home yet, and it would never be Nathaniel's. If anyone noticed his strange behavior, they didn’t comment.

The rest of the main course went off without a hitch, but then Abby served everyone tea and brought out the cold desserts. Then the one person with a knack for saying the most scandalous things leaned in and opened his mouth, ready to serve a very different kind of hot tea.

"Sleep with me," Kevin once again "accidentally" issued a command when the phrase clearly required to be a question.

"Ooooo," Nicky chimed in with an approving tone, while the rest groaned to various degrees of frustration. Abby almost poured the tea into Wymack’s lap as she gasped.

Neil's reaction was a mere choke on his tea. "Can you not do that?" he asked, his voice tinged with weary exasperation, not holding much hope for Kevin's self awareness.

“Do what?” the fool, of course, asked back, not even acknowledging how his phrase may sound.

Neil concluded that straight up pointing that out would make any future interaction with Kevin awkward, so he opted to shrug.

“No,” Neil sighed tiredly, his words a repetition from previous close conversation he and Kevin had, "You don’t let me sleep with my clothes on; I’m not stripping for you."

"Here they go at it again," Aaron murmured, while Andrew slurped his tea loudly and snatched Kevin’s untouched dessert for himself.

Kevin narrowed his eyes, jabbing his finger straight at Neil. "You?!" He lunged back, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech. Arms jackknifed across his chest, he fixed Neil with a glare that could curdle milk. "You were sleeping on the streets in those clothes! You knew, right? Where animals crap, and God knows what else crawled all over you while you snoozed in that filth."

He is such a drama queen. A bit of water and soap, and the clothes are as good as new. Neil fumed silently.

"Ooooo," Nicky said in a disapproving tone, "the tea is spilling." Even Abby appeared to be interested, or was just debating whether she should subject Neil to more thorough tests.

Neil didn’t plan to back down, so he pointed right back at Kevin. “I don’t want to hear it from a guy who thinks peeing on someone is a sign of friendship,” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Has your friendship with Andrew reached the pee-on-each-other stage yet?”

"Did I miss something?" Nicky asked in the background. 

Aaron shook his head decisively, "I’m as confused as you." 

Coach grunted, shaking his head. “Spare me the details, boys.”

Andrew took a nonchalant sip of his tea, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "It's a Ravens thing." as this could explain anything .

"It's not a Raven thing, only Riko's," Kevin glared back, but then realized what he just said and backpedaled, "I mean, if he liked you."

Neil couldn't comprehend why Kevin still attempted to defend Riko's honor after all the harm he had caused, even if it was done poorly. Very, very poorly.

"So, animal feces, no, but Riko marking his territory all over your bed is completely acceptable?"

Aaron also started slurping his tea; Nicky was the one having the most fun, while Abby and Wymack looked increasingly concerned as the conversation progressed.

“I at least know that Riko is clean,” Kevin yelled, then flushed when he realized what he'd said. "That's not the point! The point is, you're not sleeping in a proper bed. I saw your...abomination of a sleeping box!"

"It's a good box," Neil defended his beloved cardboard sanctuary.

"It's a freaking box!" Kevin threw his hands up, frustration etched on his face. "Why can't you just sleep in a bed like a normal person? I can't believe I'm actually having this argument."

That was a point Neil couldn’t explain to Kevin without revealing his true background. Throughout most of Neil's life, concealing his sleeping location was crucial for his survival. The ability to snatch a few moments of undisturbed sleep, shielded from those searching for him, provided him the opportunity to endure. In contrast, Kevin faced an entirely different circumstance; his safety relied on conforming to captivity. Kevin's well-being stemmed from being precisely where he was expected to be. If Riko or the master couldn't locate him promptly, he would have faced punishment. Neil understood where Kevin was coming from, but he just couldn't and didn't know how to craft a convincing lie to explain it. Maybe to say that his mom died in bed and now he avoids it?

Help came from a surprising source. Andrew chimed in, his gaze distant, yet somehow piercing. "Beds are not always a safe place for people," he murmured, his words hanging in the air like a cryptic riddle. Kevin, startled, shot him a glance, then shifted his gaze to his own, now cold, tea.

"That's why I suggested he would sleep with me; I'm safe," Kevin said in a small voice. "Right?" He glanced at Neil.

“Yeah,“ Neil replied in a quiet tone, “but being with you doesn't mean that I am safe.” He wished to provide Kevin with the answer he wanted to hear, but the truth was that, at present, Kevin would let things happen to Neil if it were for Kevin’s own safety. They shared a bed when Riko happened , when Riko's bodyguard happened , and Neil had no illusions that Kevin wouldn’t prevent Andrew from happening .

"Oh," Kevin averted his eyes back to the tea he wasn't drinking. He remained silent for the rest of the dinner. Neil debated with himself whether he should have lied, but the cat was out of the bag. 

Neil didn't want to end the evening on such a low note. "How about you show me where you are staying? We can watch the Trojans game, and you can tell me why Jeremy Knox is so superior," Neil suggested. Nicky groaned, while Aaron rolled his eyes so hard that Neil could see the whites from across the room. Andrew gave Neil his death stare, but fortunately, Neil was immune.

That worked; Kevin's spirits were uplifted. Talking about Knox always brightened Kevin's day. So, the moment Andrew finished crumbling his food, Kevin shepherded everyone to the guest room. The room had two beds, and Neil guessed that Kevin bunked with Andrew. Kevin's bed was obviously the one that you could bounce a coin off of, judging by how tightly the covers were drawn.

Aaron and Nicky sat at the coffee table, slumped like ragdolls, and nursed their cold tea. Andrew, meanwhile, was marooned on his bed, surrounded by small decorative pillows.

"Wait a minute, I just need to find where Andrew hid my laptop," Kevin turned his back to search through the mess in Andrew's side of the room.

Then Neil got an idea—an awful idea, an awful and wonderful idea. He decided to play a little prank on Kevin. With a sly twinkle in his eye, Neil dove under Kevin's covers. Only Nicky gasped slightly when he witnessed Neil wreaking havoc on Kevin’s perfectly made bed.

When Kevin finally noticed Neil in his bed, he exclaimed, “I hope you are fucking naked in there!"

Neil promptly raised his obviously clothed arm to give him the finger.

Kevin yanked at Neil's exposed leg, a low growl in his voice. “I just washed these sheets! Have you no decency?"

Neil, nestled deeper into the bed, kicked Kevin's hand away with his other foot. “And I washed my clothes.”

"Washing it with cold water and hard soap doesn't count," Kevin retorted, re-catching Neil’s right leg and giving it a hard pull, but Neil persisted.

“Fuck you, I used a washing machine” 

Nicky inched closer, his gaze fixed on the commotion across the room. "Should we..." he whispered. 

Aaron, however, met his eyes with a firm head-shake. "Nope," he said, draining his glass. “Not our circus, not our flying monkeys”

“And what monkeys these two are,” Andrew gave his own two cents.

When Neil finally managed to pull his leg out of Kevin's hold, Kevin gasped, “Did you use washing powder?”

Neil just burrowed deeper into the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

“Neil!”

“Washing powder is overrated,” Neil muttered, his voice barely audible beneath the layers of blankets. He rolled over the sheets, making sure every inch of Kevin’s bed touched his clothes.

“Come on, Abby doesn’t have any more spare sheets,” Kevin grunted, tugging at the twisted sheets. A muffled chortle escaped Neil's fabric fortress, the scent of victory. "Do something," Kevin pleaded, desperation edging his voice. Probably to Andrew.

Neil couldn't see Andrew through the tangled fortress of sheets, but the amused lilt in his voice filtered through, “I never promised to protect you from your own stupidity.”

“Am I a bad person if I find this FUCKING hilarious?“ Nicky's voice interjected.

“No,” the twins responded simultaneously, while Kevin grumbled, “Yes!”

Likely exhausted from his prolonged attempt to extract Neil from the linen fortress, Kevin decided on a bolder tactic. He gathered up the entire blanket, with Neil still ensnared within.

Neil wriggled in Kevin's grip, displaying the gracefulness of a tuna yearning for the vast, blue open ocean, squirming in a comically determined escape attempt.

Nicky's echoing giggles became fainter as Kevin carried his writhing cargo back to the living room. With a grunt of effort, he thrust the pulsating bundle into Wymack's hands. "Here," he gasped, "hold this…”

“It’s a bit too big to be a stray cat,” Coach grunted, reluctantly accepting the wriggling burrito of blankets. He tore them open to reveal a tousled Neil, hair ruffled and eyes filled with irritation.

Kevin crossed his arms, trying to muster a stern expression. “Let's put him back where you found him.” 

Wymack snorted, lowering Neil to the floor. “That's the problem, I didn’t find him. One day he just showed up in my flat and started cleaning and rearranging my stuff.” Neil, meanwhile, chucked the blanket straight at Kevin as soon as his legs touched the ground. Wymack ignored the commotion and kept grumbling, "I still can't find where he put those damn fancy towels."

Kevin skillfully dodged the flying bedding as if they were plagued with smallpox. The poor fabric lay sadly on the floor, near his legs.

"They're in the bedroom, on the top shelf," Neil piped up, his facial expression as innocent as a kitten.

Abby's voice cut through the banter. "It is a more sensible place for them, than under your sink, David."

“Don’t enable him.”

"Can we at least get another one without fleas?" Kevin grumbled, kicking the blanket away from him. Neil flipped him the bird, while Wymack shook his head.

Kevin returned the gesture before continuing his bitching, “And have him sleep on your couch, stick that cardboard monstrosity of his somewhere out of sight, it's terrible for his posture.”

“Should I ask why you're not concerned about letting Josten sleep on my sofa ?”

“I've seen the things you let happen to your furniture. It couldn't get any filthier.”

"This," Wymack mumbled, gesturing vaguely. "This was my choice. I chose this." His sigh seemed to carry the weight of past decisions.

“Yes, you did,” Abby agreed with him, letting out her own sigh.

Later, Neil and Kevin rejoined Andrew’s family, and they all watched the Trojan's game from the comfort of Kevin’s now bare ass bed. Kevin insisted on not sleeping on anything that touched Neil's clothes. In fact, he went so far as to force Neil to sit on a towel before allowing him to join the rest.

After ten, Wymack declared it was time to leave, and Neil followed, his steps burdened with conflicting desires. Being alone with Wymack in the car felt like torture. On good days, like tonight, Wymack's company eased the tension, but the proximity sparked a different fear – a flicker of something he couldn't identify, a yearning entwined with terror. Neil harbored an ingrained distrust of men old enough to be his father, and that couldn't be erased merely by his will. Each passing mile became a push-and-pull between the warmth of Wymack's presence and the chilling grip of his past. For a fragile moment, the past receded, replaced by a flicker of hesitant trust. Could he dare to let it win?

Coach was always good to him, no matter the timeline. He should at least try.

After Wymack closed and secured the apartment door, he inquired, "Are they going to be a problem?"

Neil shook his head, subtly stepping back and keeping his body angled away from Wymack. "I'll figure it out."

"If they cross a line and you can't get them to back off, you come to me. Understand?" Wymack insisted. "I don't have perfect control over Andrew, but Kevin owes us a lot, and I can get to Andrew through him."

Neil nodded and walked down the hall to fetch his bag from Wymack's desk. Although it had been locked up all day, he unloaded its contents onto the couch to inspect his belongings. It had become a ritual by this point; each day, Neil would go over all his things, ensuring nothing was missing. Wymack observed from the doorway, giving Neil the space he needed.

"I've got paperwork to go over. You good?" Coach asked, arching an eyebrow at him but not pressing further about the strange conversations he heard at Abby’s. An impressive feat, considering that if Neil had been in his shoes, he would definitely have asked what the hell was going on between him and the Kevin-Andrew duo.

A jog might shake loose the tangled skein of thoughts plaguing him, clearing his head and refining his plans for Kevin and his rehabilitation. Most could wait until fall, but one gnawed at him, demanding immediate action. Even exposing a piece of his carefully constructed scheme wouldn't deter him. He still lacked Andrew’s trust, and he knew every suspicious hint would need justification. This, though, would be worth it.

Wymack nodded and left. Neil stepped into the office, a final wave catching the back of the coach's head. A muffled grunt, possibly farewell, escaped him as Neil left again. Neil locked the door, the satisfying click echoing in the hallway. The key, tucked deep in his pocket, felt like a tangible link to this strange new refuge. He descended the stairs, his steps echoing on the worn stairs, and stepped out into the night.

He ran with no thought about his location or destination, but that was fine. If he provided his feet with a direction, they would carry him swiftly past all his thoughts, and he would gladly allow them to do so.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Neil slept well at night, feeling energized after his morning run. He spent the rest of the morning diligently improving his flexibility, incorporating all the yoga and circus exercises he had learned into his routine. Before meeting the others at the stadium, he had one hour to stretch out and eat lunch. He found a quiet corner to change before the group joined him.

Neil crackled with anticipation on the court, a buzzing beacon amidst the trickle of arriving guys. His eyes darted to Kevin, who propelled Andrew toward the home goal. Andrew was talking about something and grinning, but Neil couldn't hear what Kevin was replying to him. Across the court, Aaron and Nicky were bouncing balls down the sidelines, a few rolling playfully towards Neil. He caught them with a practiced snap of his wrists, the familiar weight grounding him with a comfortable thud. Even with practice yet to start, Neil's energy thrummed like a live wire, ready to spark into action.

They kicked things off with some drills, including a mix of ones Neil had practiced before and a few new ones he wasn't familiar with. Neil, filled with excitement, breezed through the familiar drills, enjoying the satisfying ache in his muscles, still feeling the sweat from yesterday on his limbs. The exercises gradually increased in difficulty, and Neil grimaced a little as Andrew deflected every shot Neil aimed his way. It was only a little comforting that neither Aaron nor Nicky were exactly lighting up the scoreboard either.

But this didn't matter. Forget perfection, forget the score. All that mattered was the electricity crackling in the air, the primal joy of finally sharing the court with Andrew, the undisputed king of Class I Exy goalies. Yeah, maybe Neil wasn't ready, maybe he wasn't good enough yet. But who cared? This wasn't about proving anything, it was about unleashing the beast within, pushing his limits until his muscles howled in protest and his lungs felt like they were on fire. This was raw passion, pure adrenaline, the sweet sting of a challenge that clawed at his soul. Every save, every shot that failed to slip past Andrew's defenses, it fueled the fire burning brighter, hotter. He may not be there yet, but with every drop of sweat, every burning muscle fiber, Neil knew he was getting closer. And that, that was more thrilling than any victory.

After an hour and a half of drills, Kevin called for a water break, his voice sounding a bit hoarser than usual. He remained on the court with Andrew, their figures intertwining. Neil followed the others, staring back with concern. While seemingly relaxed, Kevin's left arm, normally fluid and precise, moved with a telltale jerkiness. He kept massaging it with his right, grimacing faintly – something Neil couldn't ignore. It was fortunate that Neil managed to complete all the preparation. Kevin rarely, if ever, showed even the slightest discomfort on the court. This wasn't just about fatigue; something was wrong. It was clear that Kevin was in some sort of pain. A knot of worry tightened in his stomach as he followed the others towards the water coolers, his gaze lingering on the two figures on the court.

"Spotted you admiring the scenery again, Josten? Don't worry, I won't tell Andrew. Though maybe Kevin would appreciate the attention, considering you haven't even stolen a glance his way since… yesterday?" Nicky teased, eyebrows raising up and down. "But you had your shot, time to give others a chance. so now I called dibs on him."

Neil rolled his eyes, “I thought you had Erik,” Neil countered and then regretted not denying that attraction was why he was staring at Kevin, given the playful smile that spread across the backliner’s face.

“I do, but Kevin's on the List,” Nicky said. When Neil frowned, he explained. “It's a list of celebrities we're allowed to have affairs with. Kevin is my number three.”

Neil pretended to understand and changed the topic. "How did Kevin manage to convince Andrew to actually play today?" Until now, in all the practices Neil had been in, Andrew merely was physically on the court but not really playing, unlike now when he defended the goal and sweated.

"With the magic of love," Nicky proclaimed as they strolled into the locker room. Aaron led the way, making a beeline for the water fountain, while Nicky casually leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on Neil. Neil narrowed his eyes and countered with a nonchalant "Ha!" in the most dispassionate tone he could muster.

Nicky shrugged, swiftly taking a couple of sips from the fountain once Aaron moved aside, wiping a hand across his mouth. "Okay, I was joking. It's just because Kevin is Kevin. The moment he returned to the court, Andrew wasn't far behind him. Before that, they were at each other's throats. Now, look at them. They're practically exchanging friendship bracelets, and I couldn't wedge a crowbar between them if my life depended on it."

“But why?” Neil asked. “Andrew hates Kevin's obsession with Exy.”

"When they start making sense to you, give me a heads up," Nicky said, making way for Neil to get a drink. "I gave up trying to sort it all out. You could ask, but neither of them will answer. But while I'm dishing out advice? Stop staring at Kevin so much. You're making me fear for your life over here."

“What do you mean?”

“Andrew is ridiculously possessive of him. He threw a punch the first time I mentioned I'd like to get Kevin too wasted to be straight,” Nicky gestured toward his face, indicating where Andrew had struck him. “So, yeah, I'll stick to crushes on safer options until Andrew loses interest. That leaves you, especially since Matt's taken, and I'm not masochistic enough to consider Seth. Congrats.”

"As long as you don't test me, feel free to watch," Neil replied with a dryness that could compete with the Sahara.

"Can you tone down the creepy a level?" Aaron snapped at his cousin.

"But Aaron, look at him," Nicky gestured to the whole of Neil. "I already have ideas about where I want these lips," Nicky chirped, a playful glint in his eye. 

Aaron's face contorted in disgust. "It's not funny!" he hissed, each word clipped with barely-contained irritation, arms crossed, and an icy stare boring into Nicky.

Neil recognized the look; ironically, it was future-Nicky who taught him how to decipher it and was also the one to tell him to ask for clarification point-blank, putting the other person on the spot. But then, he also confessed that he used to deliberately act like that kind of guy—the one who throws around overly sexualized remarks as a way to check someone's homophobia—and that it probably wasn’t the best way to do it. Neil wasn’t sure how sincere Nicky's comments were.

"Did you just suggest that I blow you?" Neil asked Nicky, making his disdain clear.

The stadium door slammed open as Andrew and Kevin showed up at last. Andrew swept them with a wide-eyed look as if surprised to see them all there. “We wanted to know what's taking you so long. Did you get lost?”

“Giving head?” Kevin strolled over, managing to catch the tail end of their conversation. "It's no big deal," he added, joining the discussion and causing Andrew to shift his surprised gaze toward him. "In the Nest, we used to do it quite a lot as a reward for good performance.” Catching on to the looks of shock around the room, he continued, “But only if the other person was on board, of course."

"So, if I perform exceptionally well in practice, can I request this favor?" Nicky inquired, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Sure," Kevin agreed casually, "but you're a long way off from meeting the requirements." He motioned slightly towards Andrew. "The only ones I could currently consider for this are Andrew, when he actually puts in the effort, and maybe Neil, after more training on his aim.”

Neil found himself slightly concerned. Maybe it is a joke he is too asexual to understand.

He quickly noticed Andrew's unsettled gaze at Kevin, like he really didn't like what he heard. Andrew wasn't one to scorn promiscuity, and given Kevin's tone it was consensual. Neil was confused why Andrew seemed so... uneasy.

Aaron interjected, diverting Andrew's focus from Kevin. “We were delayed because Nicky was scheming to rape Neil,” he informed Andrew, brushing off the whole weird Nest thing Kevin had brought up. "Gotta iron out a few kinks first, but he'll figure it out. And apparently, Kevin's next on his list."

“You're such an asshole,” Nicky started for the door with an irritated toss of his head. 

"Wow, Nicky," Andrew remarked with a blank expression, but Neil could read what was beneath the surface. "You don’t waste time."

“But, can you really blame me?” Nicky glanced back at Neil as he spoke. 

He only took his eyes off Andrew for a second, but that was long enough for Andrew to lunge at him. Andrew caught Nicky's jersey in one hand and threw him forcefully against the wall. Nicky grunted at the impact but made no move to shove Andrew off when Andrew leaned up against him. 

Neil shifted his gaze from Nicky to Aaron, but Aaron appeared unmoved and unsurprised by the sudden violence. Kevin, too, looked more bored than genuinely concerned, but Neil already knew that no help would come from him. Neil then directed his attention back to Andrew, awaiting the unfolding of the situation.

“Hey, Nicky ,” Andrew stage-whispered in German, keeping him still. “ I don’t want to have to repeat myself on this subject.”

“You know I'd never force myself on him. I’m just teasing. Why does it–“ Nicky went silent.  It took Neil a moment to realize why. Andrew had a short knife pressed to Nicky's jersey.

“I said no.”

"God, you're so freaking greedy, " Nicky spat, his voice strained as he tried to maintain a tough facade. " You already have Kevi — oof!" His bravado crumbled as Andrew tightened his grip on the knife, the cold metal pressing between his ribs. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for escape but finding nothing.

Neil looked to Aaron, waiting for him to interfere. Aaron was tense but quiet as he stared at Andrew's knife. Neil gave him another second, but he couldn't wait forever. He didn't know what would finally set Andrew off and he didn't want to find out.

Neil deliberately walked loudly toward Kevin, shifting Andrew's focus onto him.

Time to lighten up the atmosphere with good-old-fashioned Kevin-Neil banter.

"Really, Kevin. A, motivate me with something useful, like, I don't know, extra food," Neil commented, hoping to defuse the situation by distraction. "And B, Kevin! I saw you choking on cocktail sausages!" he pointed out, while moving around to keep Andrew's attention away from stabbing Nicky. "Maybe it's not the grand prize you think it is."

"Hey, no one complained," Kevin narrowed his eyes at him, taking the bait. Neil saw in a glance Andrew’s amusement, but his knife was still clenched. 

"Could they even?" Neil deadpanned, raising his shoulders in a shrug. "Luckily, you left this dreadful task to Riko." He shot a quick glance at Andrew, ensuring that his attention shifted from Nicky's petrified state to the "entertainment conversation" Neil had orchestrated.

"Riko doesn't—" Kevin began, but Neil cut him off. 

"Raven's antics aside, are we planning to get back to practice?"

“Let’s practice.” Kevin quickly agreed, as if waking from a trance and remembering his true reason for barging into the locker room. He abruptly left, expecting everyone to simply follow his lead.

“Hey,” Neil turned to Andrew, pretending not to notice his knife. “Kevin’s waiting.” Kevin seemed to be the only thing Neil thought could likely distract Andrew currently. “Are we playing or what?”

Andrew looked at Neil as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh, you’re right. Let’s go, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Andrew released his hold on Nicky and spun away. His knife vanished under his armor before he reached the door. Aaron squeezed Nicky's shoulder on his way out. It wasn’t much affection, given what had just happened, but it was also the softest Neil had seen Aaron yet. Nicky appeared shaken as he stared after the twins, but when he realized Neil was watching him, he rallied with a smile that Neil didn't believe at all.

“You should talk it out with Andrew. That was not okay,” Neil said, pointing at the door.

“That's nothing,” Nicky tried to wave him off.

“But, what you said was also not okay,” Neil said, gesturing firmly towards him. "What you said was way out of line. Asking for sexual favors? Never okay. You wouldn't dare try that with Renee, so why with me?"

Neil walked out without waiting for Nicky's response. Whatever it was, Nicky needed to think more about his own behavior.

Andrew was waiting for him near the court entrance. "I'm not a dog, don't try to put a leash on me," he said the moment Neil approached. Seemed like Neil wasn't as slick as he thought he was.

"Never deluded myself," Neil replied casually. "It was more akin to pointing in the other direction and screaming ‘squirrel’, than leash pulling."

"Uh oh," Andrew grinned, yet the smile failed to reach his eyes. "Wrong answer. Next time, come up with a better excuse." He pushed Neil away with a shoulder bump, returning to his position. Neil was more than confused about what exactly Andrew's problem was, since he'd considered the way he'd defused the Nicky situation quite nicely handled. But whatever.

The remainder of the training involved Andrew not only deflecting all of Neil's shots but also directing the rebounds straight at Neil’s head or knees. Petty asshole. Aaron and Nicky quickly caught on that they were third-wheeling in Neil and Andrew's dispute. They decided to lean against the walls, giving Andrew the space to execute his mean-spirited actions. But the joke was on Andrew; because unknown to him, he was threatening Neil with a good time.

The one who clearly missed the memo was Kevin. He shouted about how it was supposed to be a team training, not cripple the sub striker mission. It all fell on deaf ears. After half an hour of that, Kevin gave up and announced the end of the practice.

“Oh thank sweet Jesus,” Nicky gasped, and ran for the door.

Kevin waited until Aaron pulled the door closed behind them, then grabbed the grated front of Neil's helmet and dragged him toward Andrew's goal. Andrew took an interest in the proceedings and straightened himself. Kevin let go when Neil reached the fox paw marking the foul line.

“Whatever beef you two have, squash it!" Kevin commanded, his voice laced with irritation. "We don’t have time for your bickering." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You both should be smart. Figure it out already." Crossing his arms, his gaze flicked between them.

Andrew shot him a playful grin, leaning on the handle of his racquet. "Bickering? Me? Nah, just having a friendly debate with Neil about the finer points of Exy strategy."

Neil, never one to miss getting under Kevin's skin just for the fun of it, theatrically shrugged, his eyebrows raised in mock confusion. "Indeed, Andrew brings up some fascinating perspectives. Who knew there were so many ways to stop a simple shot?"

A muscle clenched in Kevin's jaw, adding to his typically irritated expression. His eyes dimmed with a hint of annoyance, and the air around him crackled with barely suppressed impatience.  Kevin was not amused.

Andrew's grin widened slightly, while Neil's confused expression seemed to waver. They exchanged a quick side glance, almost imperceptible, before looking back at Kevin.

Kevin waited, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground. The silence stretched thin, punctuated only by the rhythmic beat of his foot. Finally, he sighed, the air whooshing out of his lungs in exasperation. 

“Just cool it off. At least when you are on the court,” Kevin said with another sigh. He turned away, walking towards the equipment stack, muttering the whole way about how neither of them follows instructions.

Neil looked back at Andrew and tapped two fingers to his temple in salute before walking after Kevin. Whatever Andrew's real problems were, it wasn’t up to him to solve them.

As much as Neil wanted to finish this tiring practice for today, he still had a little plan to check what the hell was going on with Kevin’s arm.

“Give me your hand,” Neil caught up to Kevin in the locker room. He needed to assess how 'wrong' the hand would feel to him. He may not be a professional medic, but with the life he led, some basic understanding of the human body was needed.

"Really, Neil, at least buy the guy dinner first," Nicky chimed in, his voice loud enough to be heard from the showers, accompanied by Aaron mumbling curses at Nicky.

They paid Nicky no mind. Kevin removed his handguard, extending the exposed arm toward Neil. Neil took Kevin’s left hand, slowly running his fingers up from Kevin’s palm to shoulder, thoroughly examining it. There was a small lump of tight tissue in the middle of the forearm that shouldn’t be there.

That was how Andrew found them, when he got over his whatever .

"What are you up to?" Andrew took large strides, considering his stature, and stood in front of both of them. He extended his hand, and before it could make contact, Neil instinctively flinched, taking a small but firm step back. His eyes darted to Andrew's outstretched palm, remembering the touch and the strange sensation it had brought before. He wasn't keen on experiencing it again.

"Neil doesn't like to be touched," Kevin responded to the look Andrew gave Neil. If Neil didn't know him any better, he could have sworn there was a smug undertone to Kevin’s voice.

"There is something wrong with Kevin’s hand," Neil explained to Andrew, then turned to Kevin. "When was the last time you had this X-rayed?"

The silence spoke volumes. Neil sighed. "Something didn't heal right," he said in his more gentle tone. "We need to get this checked out." He had a hunch why a health-maniac like Kevin hadn't already sought a doctor's help.

"We can't," Kevin said, clenching his fists and wincing as he held his left one in pain. "My break … it clearly wasn't from falling down." He whispered the last words through gritted teeth. Andrew glared at Neil, his expression dark and unreadable. He then reached out and placed a hand on Kevin's neck, a silent gesture of comfort.

“Ok.” Neil tried to sound reassuring. ”Lucky for you, I know how to get it checked with no need for insurance or identification. There is medical care for the homeless.”

Aaron emerged from the shower, a towel draped over his shoulders. He paused by the bench and shook his head. "Kevin isn't homeless," he said flatly. 

Nicky followed suit, dripping and curious. "You know where to get free healthcare in America ?" he sputtered, his voice climbing an octave with each word.

"Kevin is homeless," Neil insisted. Not that it mattered; either way, the doctor would take Kevin. Amanda paid him enough to drop all his other patients for that day if needed.

"I'm not," Kevin said.

"Then, where is your home?" Neil asked him point-blank, and the question hung in the air, drawing their attention. Kevin didn’t have an answer; of course, he didn’t. Home no longer exists for Kevin, but he could build a new one.

"The point is, we can X-ray the hand, and no one would ask about Kevin’s previous medical history," Neil broke everyone from their thoughts.

Nicky leaned forward, eyes gleaming with newfound interest. "And how does this whole 'free healthcare' magic trick go down?" he asked, oblivious to the web of fabrications Neil was already weaving in his mind.

Good fraud needs two-thirds truth, then mix in a thread of lies. First the more truth part.

"First, the right presentation. You need to look like the good kind of homeless: poor and dirty enough so they believe you can't help yourself alone, but sober and neat so they won’t think you are a crackhead; otherwise, you deserve it," Neil explained. This part was somewhat true for getting help from other homeless charities. "So if you look like a 'good' homeless person, you can get a couple of checks and tests for free." Of course, all this was for his 'fix-Kevin' scheme to sound more natural.

"But if something is wrong and Kevin can't receive treatment, it would only stress him," Andrew stated calmly, his fingers gently kneading circles into Kevin's nape. The tension in Kevin's shoulders seemed to ease, and the furrow in his brow smoothed a little in response.

"I've got a coupon for that," Neil mentioned. For some reason, everyone looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "What can I say? I was a really good boy at the homeless shelters, so they gave me vouchers for some medical procedures." 

Personally, Neil had very little experience with the legal side of medical care, but he vaguely recalled his mother presenting a note to the doctor when he needed his road rash to be sewed back together— it was a bit too much for him or his mother to do it old-style with vodka and dental floss. The doctor took the note and scanned it, proceeding to stitch Neil without further questions. Considering that he knew food stamps were a thing, Neil assumed healthcare might have a similar system. Either way, he played it off as an everyday occurrence, just something homeless shelters do. Not like anyone else in the group knew how shelters operate.

"How 'good' of a boy were you?" Nicky was the first to ask, exchanging glances with both Aaron and Andrew. Something unspoken passed between the cousins.

Neil felt it was a jab at his character. “Well, screw you. I can be obedient when needed.”

"Did you get the results of the STD tests?" Kevin asked next, and Neil was very confused as to why those were the first questions for him. How could getting a healthcare coupon involve any of that? Still, Kevin is going to pay for this comment.

"Careful there, Day. I know where you are sleeping." Neil flashed his toothy fake smile. “It would be a shame if someone … rolled all over your clean sheets.” He winked, then raised a finger to his lips conspiratorially. "Fun fact, I have slept in the sewer, and I won't tell you in which clothes it happened."

Andrew released his grip on Kevin's neck and joined his brother and cousin on the bench.

“Oooooo,” Nicky said in an approving tone, scooting closer to Aaron, practically pushing him sideways to create space for Andrew. “The girls are – Fighting .” Aaron elbowed him, making Nicky grunt.

Andrew turned his previous scowl into a full grin while observing the antics Neil and Kevin would come up with. Aaron, in contrast to his twin, maintained a blank expression.

Kevin's face reached a new level of red. "Neil whatever Josten, if you dare to put your shit-stained ass on my bed—"

"All asses are shit-stained, asshole," Neil cut him off with a sarcastic retort, flipping a finger.

Kevin unleashed his signature death glare, hoping to strike fear into Neil's heart. Fortunately, Neil was immune.

Kevin stepped closer, towering over Neil. "I, too, know where you sleep," he declared, trying to sound menacing.

Neil raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, do you?”

Kevin faltered, realizing his threat lacked the same punch as Neil's. "Well, it's not like... I know exactly where you sleep," he stammered, "but I have a general idea. Or at least, I knew a few places you used to sleep in.” His voice trailed off, the initial aggression dissolving into uncertainty.

"Even if you track down my secret sleeping spot, what's the grand plan? Conditioner on my hair? A skin mask on my face? Perhaps a nail trim?" Neil asked with a mockingly dramatic tone. "I'm trembling in my teeny-tiny sneakers."

"Guys, focus! Let's circle back to this 'free medical treatment with a magical coupon' business," Nicky intervened before sparks could fly between Kevin and Neil.

"There is no such thing as a coupon for a clinic," Aaron gave his own two cents on the matter. "I'm pretty sure that if it was a thing, Mom could have gotten one."

"Oh, Aaron, did you not hear our little comedian here? You need to look like the good kind of poor, and I doubt Tilda could manage not to look like she and you are getting high on your own stash," Andrew said, his voice sounding unexpectedly vicious compared to the relative gentleness he showed to Kevin.

“Easy,” Nicky said, though his gaze was fixed on Aaron as he spoke.

“Easy, easy,” Andrew raised his hands in a careless shrug. “Why bother? It's a cruel world, right Neil? You wouldn't be here if it wasn't.”

“It's not the world that's cruel,” Neil replied, caught off guard. “It's the people in it.”

That vicious smirk returned like a threat. “Oh, so true.”

Neil decided to overlook the tension between the Minyards, hoping it might fade. "Anyone choosing to join needs to look the part." He gestured directly at the problem-child. "That means, Kevin, no shower until tomorrow, and wear your baggiest clothes." Kevin looked almost offended. "And no brands," Neil added, just in case Kevin considered sporting any 'Nike' wear.

“I can take care of this,” Nicky volunteered himself. Neil was glad to have one less problem to take care of.

"And we're taking the bus; Andrew's car is too eye-catching," Neil added. The concern was less about the homeless disguise being blown and more about someone noticing an expensive car constantly parked near the clinic. Kevin would likely need more than one visit.

“What? No!” a chorus of voices erupted, their noses wrinkling in dissatisfaction.

"Neil, do you know how many different body fluids get splashed all over the common bus?" Kevin said with a whining tone. This time, Neil didn't indulge in hitting the low-hanging fruit of Kevin and his 'Piss-Is-Ok' problem.

"Fine," Neil just didn't want to argue further. "I'll bring a car, a normal-looking one." It was better to resolve it quickly before more questions arose, and he had to spin more lies. Not like it was so hard to get a car.

"A car!? Where are you getting one from?" Nicky asked, but Neil was busy packing his stuff into his bag.

"You didn't explain the vouchers," Aaron commented. However, Neil just rolled his fingers to indicate 'later.'

"Interesting," Andrew saluted him with two fingers. Neil simply saluted back.

"If you're planning not to shower until tomorrow, I swear I would—" Kevin started to say, but Neil cut him off. 

"I have a lot of things to prepare for tomorrow. I'll be at Abby's place at nine A.M. with a car. Bye." He left as fast as his legs allowed him, considering he had just completed a full-on training session.

Staying true to his words, Neil arrived with a car. The group gathered, and Nicky had successfully transformed Kevin into a scarecrow-like version of himself – complete with strategically ripped clothes and a questionable stain on his shirt that clearly wasn't his. Kevin glared at the outfit, appearing as if he might bolt at any moment to clean himself up, all before Neil could even park the car. The twins sported matching outfits mostly in black, while Nicky wore his work clothes—the ones he usually dons when performing repairs in the Columbia House.

“Is it your car?” Nicky asked, carefully taking in the  look of the white Ford taurus.

“It’s a car.” Neil stated. “Get in, losers, we're going to commit health insurance fraud.”

Kevin plopped down into the passenger seat, leaving Nicky stuck as the awkward middleman in the midst of the Minyard sandwich. As Neil started the car, Kevin closed his eyes. Glancing in the mirror, Neil noticed the twins each looking out of their respective side windows, leaving Nicky without a conversation partner. Bored Nicky was a bad Nicky who had too much curiosity for his own good.

"Seriously, where did you get the car?" Nicky persisted, wanting to figure this out unlike the others who were more laid-back about it. Off it goes. Ignorance may be bliss, but Nicky consistently chooses the opposite.

"Don't ask questions if you don't want to hear lies," Neil teased, enjoying messing with Nicky, and maybe the rest. The truth was that it was Andrea's car and Amanda just borrowed it for a couple of hours. "Let's just say no humans were harmed in the overtake.”

"Are you a criminal?" Nicky asked cautiously. This piqued both Aaron and Andrew’s interest.

Neil sensed it was a valid question, considering what Nicky knew about him.

Neil pondered for a moment, "Not in South Carolina."

"This is not as reassuring as you think it is," Nicky's voice sounded even more concerned.

"Hey," Neil quipped, steering the wheel, "it's not like I was charged with murder or something."

“Me neither,” Andrew chimed in, an obscure glee evident in his tone. Neil heard Aaron curse, and the sound of wrestling echoed from the back seat. Someone clearly disapproved of the last comment.

Neil decided to pull the conversation in a different direction. "So, murder, no, but you were caught trying to arson a local market? Pathetic," he sneered.

"How do you know that?" Andrew's tone took a sharp turn, and the back seat fell into silence. Both Aaron and Nicky glared through the mirror directly into Neil's soul, their eyes unmoving.

Oh, I wasn't supposed to know it yet , Neil's mind screamed. Andrew's re-adoption to the Minyards was a closed case. No information about his pre-juvenile life should have been known to the public.

Had Neil unwittingly walked into a hornet's nest with his slip of the tongue? He hastily tried to backtrack, fabricating a lie that spilled out in a rushed and unconvincing manner, yet he managed to sound confident, "Riko told us this while he was complaining about you."

"Huh?" Kevin stirred from his half-slumber. "I don't remember him telling you that."

Neil tried to recollect if the conversation was in English or if he accidentally referred to the Japanese one. "Because he was telling you that," he pretended to be very focused on the road, "I wasn't always completely asleep when you thought I was."

Ok, Kevin's memory is normal , Neil reasoned with himself, desperation fueling his lies. So if he played confidently enough, Kevin probably dismissed it as not remembering all the details right. But even as the thought left his consciousness, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. Had he just made a move that could cost him? It’s too early to raise any suspicion.

Mom would have known what to do , he thought to himself, remembering one particular case.

“The best thing to do when you feel your lies are going to fall apart is to double down, go all in, own the narrative. Look as shocked at the other side when your hand does fall short. Better be labeled a fool than a fraud.” Mom explained to him after she got out from the police station in Denmark. She was interrogated as a possible witness to a homicide case. What really happened was that she saw someone getting rid of a dead body; the problem was, except the obvious, that she too came to the place to dispose of her own dead body. Each of them, upon noticing the other, gave the solidarity nod, the one that meant ‘I will keep your secret and you'll keep mine because I will take you down with me.’ Unfortunately, the other person was sloppy, and the corpse was found. Mom was seen in the area by the security camera of some shop. So she had simultaneously misled the investigation while not incriminating herself. Mom told him that she had to make a complete fool of herself because there was no way for her to lie on the spot about a case she knew nothing about. Of course, the moment the police dismissed Mom as an unreliable witness, they disappeared and ran to the next country on their list.

If his mom could spew utter nonsense to the Danish police and walk away unscathed, he could surely weasel his way out of this. So Neil chose to double down and gambled. He sighed. “Remember when Riko lost it over my aim not improving quickly? You said we needed a goalie to practice against. Then he started throwing a fit because you supposedly 'guilt-tripped' him about blackmailing Andrew! He claimed that if you hadn't, I would've had an excellent target to hone my skills against, accompanied by some...colorful comments about Andrew." The conversation did occur, but it was all in Japanese.

“Oh, I remember it," Kevin remarked, rubbing his eyes in an effort to fully wake up. Nailed It.

Aaron's gaze flickered to Andrew, his expression unreadable. "And Riko's comments about Andrew?" 

Andrew in turn watched Neil with full interest, his lips twitched. "Yes, do enlighten us, oh humble scribe. What pearls of Riko's infinite knowledge did he bestow upon his loyal... subjects?" His gaze hardened, a glint of something sharp sparking in his eyes.

“Didn't Kevin fill you in already?” Neil didn’t bother to wait for Kevin’s reply before he continued. “That Andrew had a rotten personality, good game, and... well, Riko was kinda vague, but hinted at something in Andrew's past homes, something that could be leveraged." Neil couldn't dare to mix in more lies than he already did, so he stuck to recalling the conversation precisely as he remembered.

A ripple of disapproval spread through the backseat. Aaron's scowl spoke volumes, and Nicky's offense resonated in his tense posture. But amidst it all, Andrew presented an enigma. His face, devoid of any reaction, held a stillness that was almost chilling. A smile was plastered on his face, but it was empty from anything real.

"Oh, the joys of Riko's enlightened wisdom," Andrew sing-songed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned back in his seat, one hand idly tracing the stitching on his armband before casually revealing a hidden switchblade. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he flipped the blade open, catching the glint of light in his eyes. Then, with a slow, rhythmic precision, he started closing and opening the blade, the click-clack echoing a steady beat in the tense atmosphere.

The silence wasn't just quiet, it was suffocating. It pressed down on them like a physical weight, thick and heavy with unspoken accusations. Kevin shifted nervously, his foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the floorboard. Nicky's eyes darted between Andrew, whose expression remained an unreadable canvas, and the road ahead, shrouded in shadows. Neil could almost feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air, heavy and sharp like unsheathed blades. 

Finally, Neil's voice cut through the tension, brittle and tight. "Anyway," he said, "we're here." But as the words left his lips, a flicker of movement from Andrew sent a jolt through the car, and the tension coiled tighter, waiting to pounce. This won’t do . Neil needed to break it somehow.

But nothing came into his head. Nothing at all. He could only ignore it and move on. "Let's go; Kevin needs to have his hand reexamined." Neil parked and stepped out, enjoying the slightly more relaxed atmosphere.

The group followed him like a bunch of zombies in search of a functioning brain. They were quiet, eerie, and uncomfortable staring at him. Even Andrew's rhythmic blade-clicking couldn't drown out the unsettling silence as they marched towards the clinic.

With full confidence, Neil walked in, partly to escape the brooding Andrew trailing behind him. Disregarding the skeptical glances, he casually tossed the X-ray and CT scan coupons onto the receptionist's desk.  Not that he wanted to brag, but they looked legit, almost government-issued kind of legit, and leaving everyone wondering where on earth he'd gotten them. Aaron, especially, observed closely as the receptionist scanned the coupons and directed the group to the next corridor for the scans. Oh the power of throwing money to fix things.

To make this whole operation legit, Neil had to use a little trick. Kevin didn't know it yet, but he apparently was employed at a travel agency alongside Amanda, Sofia, and Andre, which made him eligible for workplace health care. But what Kevin doesn't know …

‘Oh, Kevin doesn't know

So don't tell Kevin

Kevin doesn't know

Kevin doesn't know. ’  

Neil hummed to himself, amusingly, as Kevin underwent his checks and the others stared at Neil, still finding it hard to believe that none of them were asked for money or identification. This disbelief persisted even after Kevin went into the doctor's office and emerged with a prescription and a surgery appointment.

"Give me that; I have a coupon for the medication too," Neil's fingers swiftly darted out, snatching the prescription mid-air with the practiced ease of a seasoned magician. 

Kevin simply shrugged and mumbled, "Yeah, sure," appearing tired from the continuous surprises.

Nicky, unable to contain his curiosity, leaned closer. "Seriously, Neil, how did you get all these coupons? It can’t be just your nice personality."

Neil shrugged noncommittally. "What can I say? I'm just so adorable, people like to give me free stuff." Again, this was advice from future-Nicky, a tip to deflect busybodies. For some reason, this made Aaron look more offended than Nicky by the dismissal. Andrew remained lost in his thoughts, physically following them but mentally absent. Neil couldn't pinpoint what in the previous conversation had him so agitated. The atmosphere around the group was cringeworthy: a tense Kevin, a quiet Andrew, a disapproving Aaron, and a baffled Nicky. Neil yearned to escape.

Neil decided to head to the pharmacy to avoid even more awkwardness. He returned with Kevin's meds, handed them toward Aaron. "So, you're a pre-med. Keep it for Kevin. It's addictive."

Andrew, finally snapping out of his trance, lunged for the medication, but Neil swiftly held it out of reach. Aaron shot Andrew an annoyed side glance but didn't intervene.

"Give me," Andrew commanded, his eyes narrowing. He extended his hand, expecting Neil to comply and hand over the pills.

"No.” Neil countered, stepping back. “Kevin has your medication. When you're in withdrawal, you might threaten Kevin with it for withholding yours."

Andrew's scowl deepened, but it felt more like a mask hiding internal struggle. "Fine," he muttered, exhaustion evident in his voice. "Give it to Nicky then."

"I'm an adult and can manage my medication," Kevin asserted, but his words went unheard.

"Dude, if you can't trust Aaron holding one pill bottle now, what do you think will happen when he is a doctor with authority to prescribe drugs?"

"I don't care," Andrew answered with clenched teeth. He stood protectively in front of Aaron, facing off against Neil with an angry expression. Classic Minyard, prickly comments over admission of caring. 

"So, think of it as a test drive; better for Aaron to slip now than when he would have access to a pharmacy and be able to prescribe himself the drugs."

"That's not the way it works," Aaron interjected, shooting another glare at Andrew. "And what do you mean you don't care?" His voice carried a trace of hurt.

"Did you see how easy it was to commit health insurance fraud?" Neil interjected, moving his hands for emphasis, more than likely stopping Aaron from hearing the hurtful answer Andrew would have given him. "You just need to find another corrupt quack, and you could prescribe each other drugs. Not to mention, with the current state of affairs, it would take a while before someone realized something was wrong." 

Neil shifted his attention back to Andrew, aiming to divert his focus too. "And do you believe Nicky would resist if Kevin pleaded for just one more pill?" He gestured toward Kevin's visibly irate expression. "He finds that face adorable."

“Hey!” Nicky chimed in. “But it's true, I'm a sucker for those puppy eyes.”

Nicky was apparently also partially blind because Kevin's facial expression couldn’t be described by any means as ‘unsophisticated innocence’. More between totally pissed or extremely annoyed.

"Another thing, this is a muscle relaxer. It's easy to see when someone overdoses on these. If Aaron starts walking funny, like a doll with a couple strings cut, then we'll know he's not fit for the responsibility." Neil rattled the battle loudly.

Andrew didn't reply, his jaw clenched tight. He retreated a step, his body language hinting at an internal battle between protectiveness and understanding. Despite this, he stepped away from Aaron, showing no reaction when Neil firmly placed the bottle in his hands.

Aaron’s face almost looked thankful but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind a mix of emotions that remained unvoiced.

"Okay, now that you're all done discussing my meds, let's head to court. Honestly, I'm trying to forget that I apparently have a piece of bone in my bicipital aponeurosis muscle. Not only would I need surgery, but it would set back my progress, at least for a month, maybe more." Kevin spoke, his voice a mix of annoyance and worry.

They piled back into Neil’s presumably car. The twins each took a window seat like the previous ride. Nicky awkwardly shifted his long legs in the middle, while Kevin sat down next to Neil, rubbing his left arm with a nervous tic. The tension around Kevin eased slightly when Neil offered his hand to hold, instead of irritating the scarred skin with his prodding. They all kept their quiet.

Despite Neil’s efforts to lighten up the mood, he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the group's subdued silence. He'd pulled a lot of strings to get Kevin the surgery, and a part of him had hoped for a more joyful reaction. Actually, Neil felt a slight sense of ungratefulness from the entire group, considering all the work he had put in.

After a moment of tense silence, Nicky reached out a hand to Kevin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry Kevin,” he said gently. “This too shall pass.”

"Maybe it will pass like a kidney stone," Neil chimed in, sharing his own wisdom, “but it will pass.” 

Even after his second attempt to lift the mood, there was no reaction from anyone. His humor was wasted on them. But no one glared at him either. So baby steps, he supposed.

Their joyous expedition trudged on, filled with the delightful atmosphere of Neil's good deed overshadowed by everyone's sulking.

Oh joy, just shoot me, it would be less painful than enduring this joyride . Neil thought on his way to the Foxhole court.

Damn, it's only eleven A.M.

Chapter Text

Regrettably, returning to the court didn't improve anyone's mood, which was disheartening. And no Siri to play “Despacito”. 

Neil first released the gang of sulking souls from his car at the court entrance. Since his car wasn’t registered as an athlete's vehicle, Neil had to park it outside. It was better not to test his luck with Palmetto security. The last thing he needed on such a day was to have his car towed.

Kevin, despite his obvious sullen mood, led the cousins into the Foxhole. Neil hoped that by the time he parked, everyone would return to their usual selves. He could only handle so much awkwardness.

By the time he entered the inner court, breathless from his brisk pace, everyone was already there. Neil scanned the room, first seeing Andrew jogging toward the half-court line, then Kevin stationed on the fox paw logo at the court's center. Aaron stood by the door, waiting with Nicky for Neil to join them.

Kevin barely waited for them to reach his side before he divided them up with a flick of his fingers. "Aaron will be with me. Nicky and Andrew get the child."

“End me,” Aaron silently mouthed to Nicky and Andrew behind Kevin’s back.

"I'm not a child," Neil protested. "You're only a year older than me." Well, technically two, but he wasn't about to admit that he had lied about both his birthday and his age. "And only physically, but mentally... only one of us knew how to fill out his own taxes. News flash, it isn't you. So, who's really the child here?"

Kevin responded with an aggressive hum, pointing an accusatory finger at Neil before turning to stride toward the other side of the court. "Let's go, Aaron, we'll work on your footwork," he called out. Aaron mimicked shooting himself in the head before joining Kevin.

Neil and Nicky were tasked with honing their teamwork by attempting to score against Andrew. Every time Nicky launched a shot, Andrew, with uncanny anticipation, would sidestep with practiced ease, letting the ball slip past him. But whenever Neil took aim, his throws were met with Andrew's impenetrable defense. They tried every combination they could think of - feints, misdirections, quick passes - but Andrew anticipated them all. Furthermore, regardless of who took the shot, the rebounds always seemed to find Neil's vulnerable spot. This underscored the fact that they were merely playing to Andrew's tune.

When Kevin finally threw Aaron a bone and allowed him to join the scrimmage, he too was added to the people who were allowed to score on Andrew. 

Kevin's "coaching advice" for Neil amounted to nothing more than a condescending scoff at his lack of synergy with the backliners, accompanied by unhelpful critiques about needing ‘better aim.’ Despite Neil's ability to clock a faster mile than any of them, Nicky and Aaron's synchronized plays were a well-oiled machine he couldn't quite join yet. Kevin knew Neil was inexperienced, but he didn't forgive Neil for his mistakes. Neil didn't want pity, but he did want understanding.

Between the danger of being hit on his kneecaps, Neil found himself starting to ignore Nicky and Aaron in favor of avenging his legs. He aimed at Andrew’s head and knees instead of the goal, and before he noticed it, Nicky and Aaron stood on the sidelines, out of danger, while ignoring Kevin’s string of curses that were aimed at all of them.

Oops . He forgot the teamwork part. Neil mouthed “sorry” to both Nicky and Aaron, who in turn nodded with understanding. Kevin wasn’t sharing the sentiment, and neither was Andrew, judging by the force of the return shots.

After forty minutes, Kevin abruptly called for a halt and gestured with his hand towards the backliners. "Get out. Both of you, get out right now."

Aaron and Nicky didn’t wait for Kevin to rethink his decision of ending the training. They ran for the door.

Kevin didn’t wait for Aaron and Nicky to disappear behind the court’s door, before he grabbed Neil by the helmet and dragged him toward Andrew and his goal. Andrew looked bored while watching them, barely acknowledging their approach. Kevin let go when Neil reached the marking of the foul line.

“You and Andrew need to sort yourselves out.” Kevin jabbed at Neil’s armor, choosing him as the more receptive target to his words than Andrew. ”I would have suggested you two to solve it Raven-style, but I doubt it would even work.”

Unfortunately for Neil, he was well aware of how the Ravens resolved their personal conflicts. It stemmed from a lengthy discussion Sheck, Kevin's future therapist, had with both Kevin and Jean regarding the misuse of sex and its impact on their perception of intimacy, mostly how the Nest severely twisted it. Neil probably needed to nip it in the bud and save Kevin a couple of grand worth of therapy sessions.

“Yeah, Kevin, I too doubt hate-sex would work between a man who doesn't swing and a man who doesn't care," Neil remarked mockingly. Andrew turned a sharp gaze to both of them, his fist clenched tightly. "I once again highly recommend you to discard any advice from a man who, I remind you, never played a sport or completed a coaching degree," he continued, “not to mention his questionable ethics regarding child labor, especially his treatment of you.”

"Kevin," Andrew uttered in a low threat. But Neil didn’t let him finish his say. Andrew would need to wait for his turn.

“Sex isn’t the solution. Period. Not as a conflict solver or … channeling hate," Neil stated firmly. Stepping into Kevin’s space, he jabbed him just as Kevin had done to him. Kevin flinched, and Neil quickly withdrew his hand.

“Josten,” Andrew redirected his threat, moving his stick between the two. Neil stepped back, giving Kevin a space to panic. Andrew placed a hand on Kevin’s neck, gently rubbing slow circles into his skin.

Kevin gulped the air in big breaths. "You never tried it, how would you know?" he retorted, then winced when Andrew tugged on his hair in retaliation. 

"Don’t," Andrew said into Kevin’s ear.

"I've also never swallowed a bucket of nails, yet I still know it would likely hurt my guts," Neil remarked, crossing his arms and observing Kevin over Andrew’s head. Kevin appeared more relaxed now that Neil wasn’t in his face; he even narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say more.

Andrew pulled Kevin down to his level. "Listen closely, Day. I’m not going to sleep with Josten, no one is going to sleep with Josten, and you are going to stop suggesting sex as an answer," he said, his voice low, barely audible. "Capisce?"

Kevin nodded weakly. Andrew released him and turned to Neil, his tone laced with menace. "Kevin is my responsibility. Stay. In. Your. Lane."

Neil didn’t bother to acknowledge Andrew’s statement. Instead, he raised his brow, staring down Andrew. It wasn’t yet time to disclose their future co-parenting of Kevin.

"Stay here and fire on Andrew until he's tired. Maybe you'll score once." Kevin resumed his usual bitchy self, brushing off how both Neil and Andrew had bossed him around just a couple of moments ago. Neil and Andrew simultaneously broke their staring match to stare at Kevin's nerve.

"Scram," Andrew commanded with a flick of his finger toward the exit. Kevin glared at him but complied, turning around and pointing two fingers at his eyes before pointing them towards Neil.

“Uh oh,” Andrew chuckled, watching Kevin throw a hissy fit. “This won't end well.”

Kevin slammed the door behind him. Neil retrieved the bucket of balls from the north home corner where they had stored it during their scrimmage. Placing the bucket on the first-fourth, he returned to the foul line for his first shot.

Andrew, who hadn't lifted a finger to stop anyone else from scoring on him, showed no mercy towards Neil. With one long swing of his massive racquet, he hit the ball so hard that Neil heard it bounce off the away court wall behind him. Neil glanced over his shoulder before retrieving another ball from the bucket and attempting another shot.

As time progressed, Neil lost track of the passing time. Swings and minutes merged into a tiring haze. Unlike Nathaniel at Neil's age, Neil dedicated himself to enhancing his stamina. He had a plan, but he needed to make his exhaustion seem genuine. Therefore, he persevered long after his arms started to burn because he didn't know how to give up, and losing was not part of his agenda.

Neil waited for Andrew to tire, expecting his heavy racquet and powerful shots to eventually wear him out. However, Andrew showed no signs of slowing down.

God, drugs infused stamina was no joke.

Pretending that his hands had gone numb, Neil took a swing, deliberately losing his grip on the racquet. Andrew laughed as it clattered against the ground and skidded towards the goal. Without a racquet to defend himself with, Neil found himself defenseless as Andrew knocked the ball straight back at him. Instinctively, Neil brought up his arms to block his face, but he still felt the sharp impact on his forearms, even through his arm guards. Stumbling back a step from the force, Neil shot Andrew a dirty look.

 “Let's go,” Andrew said. “Tick tock. I won't wait forever for you.”

He still had to overextend himself, because of Andrew’s “doping”, though not as much as he pretended. Picking up the racquet, he attempted to lift it high enough for a swing, only to intentionally let his right arm lose its grip once more. His stick hit the court at his feet.

“Oh no,” Andrew mocked. “I think Neil's in trouble.”

Neil crouched and reached for his racquet. It felt like his muscles were twisting into tight masses around his elbow and wrist, but Neil wrapped his fingers around the stick and picked it up. Andrew stood his racquet up in front of him and propped his arms on top of it, waiting and watching as Neil went for another shot on goal. Neil only got his racquet shoulder height before he dropped it again. The ball rolled harmlessly away.

“Can you or can't you?” Andrew asked.

“In a moment,” Neil said, crouching by his racquet.

Andrew left the goal to meet him but stopped with one foot on Neil's racquet. Neil pulled it weakly out from under him, like he didn't have the strength.

"Get off my racquet," Neil hissed, biding his time.

"Make me." Andrew spread his arms in invitation. "Try, anyway."

"Don't tempt me." Just a bit more.

"Such fierce words from such a little creature," Andrew said. "You're not very bright. Typical of a—" 

Now was the time.

Neil dropped all pretense, swiftly rolling to his feet. With agility, he retrieved his racquet from beneath Andrew, disrupting his balance and sending him tumbling. Capitalizing on the moment, Neil dashed towards the nearest ball and expertly scored on an open goal. The scoreboard lit up in red, flooding Neil with a sense of triumph and accomplishment.

Neil turned around to meet Andrew's scornful gaze. He mirrored Andrew’s signature grin back at him, causing Andrew's expression to shift to clear annoyance.

"You're not very bright, yourself. Typical of a jock," Neil snarled. With a dismissive two-finger salute, he strolled past Andrew, finally allowing himself to relax once the court door created a buffer between them.

Neil checked his watch in the foyer. The day was far from over. Nicky and Aaron were already showered and dressed in fresh clothes. Kevin, sprawled across the sofa, was watching the court on the big TV.

"I don't think that what you did counts," Kevin said without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Trickery is part of the game," Neil countered. "Andrew shouldn't be so arrogant."

Kevin finally turned to him. "It won't work next time." 

Neil hunched his shoulders. It wasn't that he expected Andrew to fall for the same trick twice; he just wanted a win, given how un-fun the day had been. He walked to Nicky, who was going through his bag. 

Aaron rolled his eyes and brushed past Neil, muttering, "I think Andrew had it coming," before joining Kevin in watching Andrew scatter the balls across the court by kicking them.

"Hey, do you want me to bring your car here?" Neil asked Nicky. He decided that not sharing another ride with Andrew and Kevin would probably give them all the breather they needed.

"Oh, yeah, that would be great," Nicky said absentmindedly, still busy searching for something in his bag. Not wanting to distract Nicky too much from his task, Neil pickpocketed Nicky’s entire keychain.

"You'd better help Andrew clean up the court," Neil suggested to Nicky, making sure his voice carried enough for Kevin and Aaron to hear as well. They all understood that it implied more of ‘do it instead of him’ than actual assistance.

"I'm going to bring the car here," he announced, preempting any suggestions for him to join the tidying up.

Neil quickly calculated in his mind: the bus ride to Abby would only take ten minutes, and he could bring the GS to the court in less than five. He successfully returned in under twenty minutes.

The court was still messy when he returned, Andrew nowhere in sight. Neil made a beeline for Nicky, slipping the keys back into his pocket unnoticed as he casually picked up a few balls on his way. Nicky, thankfully, seemed oblivious to the recent ordeal. On the other side, Aaron and Kevin collaborated, gathering the balls into the basket.

“Andrew?” Neil asked, searching for him again.

“Showering,” Nicky replied. "You should go wash up too, we can handle things here."

Despite his throbbing arms, Neil shook his head, playing it off. The sooner they finished cleaning up, the sooner he could put this frustrating day behind him. The four of them completed the task.

Andrew sprawled on the sofa, boredom etched on his face, as they entered the lobby.

"You're welcome," Nicky drawled, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice, hoping it would prompt a ‘thank you’ from Andrew for doing the cleaning for him. It was a futile attempt, even for Nicky, who by now should have known Andrew's allergy to manners. Andrew, unsurprisingly, remained silent.

Aaron grumbled, fatigue evident in his voice. He plopped down into an armchair across from Andrew, letting out a heavy sigh. Nicky joined them on the sofa.

"Go shower, Neil," Kevin barked, gesturing vaguely towards the showers. “We haven't got all day to wait for you to discover soap.”

"Then leave," Neil snapped. "Why wait for me if you intend to bitch all day?”

"Uh, Neil, you're our ride," Nicky interjected, clearing his throat. Aaron nodded in agreement.

"Not anymore," Neil countered, gesturing towards the exit. "The GS is here." His words spurred Andrew to his feet, who promptly marched towards the door. Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin exchanged a confused glance before trailing after him. Neil calmly followed last.

As promised, there sat the GS, parked perfectly in the spot Nicky and Andrew usually claimed.

Just as Neil promised.

“Josten, what did I tell you about touching my stuff?” Andrew queried with a hint of a threat as he fished out his keys.

“I asked.” Neil, barely suppressing a smirk, shrugged innocently. “Nicky said yes, I checked with him beforehand.”

Andrew's gaze abruptly shifted to Nicky, who also retrieved his keys, returning Andrew's glare with a confused stare.

"He did ask," Nicky confirmed cautiously, "but I never imagined he'd drive it here." He nervously rechecked all the keys on his keychain.

"How did you think I would do it? Wave a magic wand? Or maybe with a tow truck that I just happen to own?" Neil quipped, throwing his hands up in a mocking gesture.

"I… I don't know!" Nicky's voice rose in a flustered squeak as Andrew's glare intensified. "Not like that, obviously!"

"Does it really matter?" Aaron interjected. "The car's here, and we can all get some rest at Abby's."

“Yes, let’s go, I don’t have the patience to wait for Neil to wash up,” Kevin joined in, then he and Aaron went to the car.

Andrew's eyes narrowed into icy slits as he spoke in a low growl, his finger pointing chillingly at Neil. "You're on thin ice," he warned, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness. "Don't push your luck, Josten."

Neil's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Like I was ever on firm ground with you," he retorted, pointing back at Andrew. Then, perhaps due to a lack of self-preservation in his tired state, he stuck out his tongue at Andrew. "Pushing my luck is all I know, Minyard. Isn't that why the team keeps me around?" His tone carried a mix of defiance and amusement.

Andrew made a disgusted face before pushing past Neil, giving him a sharp shove. Nicky followed him to the car without a word. Neil waved them off with exaggerated cheerfulness, then finally, Nicky drove the car away, leaving Neil with the peace and quiet he had been craving since late morning.

When he was sure they were gone, he trudged back to the shower, his movements painstakingly slow. His arms throbbed as he peeled off his uniform, each fiber clinging to his aching muscles. Getting dressed again seemed an insurmountable task.

“Damn,” he muttered. He had gone too far today in his determination to keep up with Andrew. Hopefully, it would be the last time he would need to pull such a stunt.

After he returned Andrea’s car, Neil ran back to Wymack's place, keeping his pace as usual because fuck Andrew. The apartment door was unlocked, and Wymack was waiting for him with a can of coffee grounds in his hand.

"Kevin called ahead to inform me that you wouldn't be on the court tomorrow, suggesting I entertain you with clips of past games instead. He mentioned your attempt to exhaust yourself against Andrew. I argued that you weren't that foolish. So, which one of us was correct?"

It seemed Kevin saw through Neil's facade; he needed to improve his act.

"I am this dumb," Neil admitted sheepishly.

Wymack tossed the coffee to him. Neil caught it instinctively, but he couldn't hold on to it. It bounced off the floor at his feet, and the lid popped off, spilling grounds everywhere. Wymack stalked toward Neil with a snarl. "You're an idiot."

Neil made a genuine effort to conquer his fear of older men, but despite recognizing Wymack as probably harmless, Neil still flinched and withdrew. Old habits die hard, and Neil wasn't entirely confident he wouldn't be harmed.

Wymack froze, his expression turning blank. Neil lowered his gaze, feeling unsettled, but then he lifted his stare back up, ensuring he didn't look away from Wymack.

"When I talk, look me in the eyes," he heard his father's angry voice. "Only weaklings look down, and Wesninskis are not weak." Neil blink away the memory.

He waited for Wymack to say something. After an endless silence, he realized Wymack wouldn't speak until he did. "I'm sorry. I just needed a win today. Kevin really riled me up, and Andrew..." Neil said quietly, looking down. "I won't do it again."

"Come here," Wymack suggested after another long wait.

Neil went to stand in front of Wymack, within arm's reach but barely. If Wymack decided to hit him, Neil would have enough time to dodge. Either way, he wouldn't catch the full intended blow.

"Look at me," Wymack said. Neil dragged his gaze up from Wymack's chest to his face. For a moment, Neil felt as if it was Nathan's voice commanding him, and he knew better than to look away again.

Wymack's expression was too blank for Neil to feel safe. "I want you to understand something," he spoke carefully, measuring his own words. "I am a loud, grouchy old man. I yell and throw things. But I don't throw punches unless some punk is dumb enough to try me first. I have never, ever hit someone without provocation, and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. You hear me?"

Neil wanted to believe him, but his fear kept him tense. "Yes, Coach," he said under his breath.

"I'm serious," Wymack grumbled. "Don't you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew."

Neil could take Andrew in a fight, so he didn't avoid him, but Wymack could do a number on him no matter what tricks Neil used.

And Neil wished to do better. Wymack did not deserve to feel like a monster just because Neil acted like a victim.

‘Small steps,’ he heard Alice's voice in his head, ‘even the tiniest step in the right direction is better than none.’ And that's what he did. Neil took the smallest yet noticeable step toward Wymack, close enough for him to graze Neil if he threw a punch.

It had been a long day, but that didn't mean it couldn't be a productive one. Coach understood, at least to some extent, what Neil had to deal with. Maybe he should try to get some answers.

"How did it feel?" Neil asked, averting his gaze away from Wymack. "When you realized you had outgrown and could overpower your abuser?"

Wymack's eyes widened at the question, so Neil continued, "And in your dreams, is he still big and powerful, and he hurts you, or do you no longer fear him?"

Wymack cleared his throat. "It felt like freedom, like I could finally return every hurt he made back to him, like he should now dread me instead. When I beat him up, I was so happy," his eyes narrowed, "but my mother's insistence to stay with him after he plucked out her eyes, kinda cooled down any joy from it."

Coach ground his jaw and looked away. "It took me a long time to understand that violence is not the way to solve conflicts. Furthermore, I feared I might become like him. My rage consumed me." Wymack kept still. "Luckily, I had friends who pointed out that I never turned into him; I learned to control my temper."

After a brief pause, he carefully chose his words, "For the second question, yes, sometimes in my nightmares he still has the upper hand, but I always wake up. And the older I get, the less he haunts me," Wymack's expression softened, "It's getting better, kid."

"I wish I could have that," Neil sighed, though he recognized Nathan would forever surpass him in size and strength. Neil never had the hope of outgrowing him, only outliving Nathan.

And the moment passed. 

Wymack gestured over his shoulder and stepped aside. "I already ate, but I haven't put the leftovers away yet. I'll take care of this,” he pointed at the mess on the floor. “You take care of you."

Neil ate to the sound of the vacuum. By the time he finished, Wymack had retreated to his office, and Neil decided to call it an early night. Feeling exposed in the open hallway, he considered sleeping in the office but didn't want to intrude on Wymack's space. Instead, he lay in the bath, staring at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep.

The following day, Neil mostly rested, opting to tackle some Amanda-work instead of watching old games. Previous Foxes matches could barely teach him anything useful; the team's lack of  proper teamwork was their main issue. That, and the mafia. 

The day off also served as a getaway from Andrew’s gang. Their constant barrage of taunts could be draining at times, so he could use a breather to rearrange and keep track of all the lies he'd spun in the last week. 

When Kevin's clinic appointment rolled around, Neil once again found himself coordinating transportation for the entire group. Even though Kevin needed to be in the clinic at six o'clock, the whole gang arrived. Ten points for solidarity, Neil thought as he yawned.

"This is a different car," Nicky noted as Neil arrived with a Chevy Impala.

"You're quite observant," Neil deadpanned back. Unfortunately, Andrea already drove off to deliver some translated info that Neil, no, Olivier Chevalier made. So he had to borrow Sofia's car. Kevin took his place in the passenger seat, and the twins took the backseat’s sides, once again leaving Nicky the less comfortable place to squeeze into.

Kevin fumbled with his hands, stalling, and finally blurted out, “Have you brought those... vouchers for the surgery?” he asked, pronouncing the word carefully as if tasting it for the first time.

“No, I decided to swing it this time,” Neil answered sarcastically.

“I thought he didn’t swing,” Nicky whispered to Aaron in the background.

Neil ignored them and continued, “Yes, I brought the one thing that let us get you a hand-fix, who do you think I am?”

"A swinger?"

"A fraud?"

"..."

Neil glared at all of them through the mirror. Ungrateful bunch . The rest of the journey passed in comforting silence, free from any further insults directed his way. 

As it was clinic visit number two, there were less judgmental stares at his discount coupons. The wait for surgery stretched to two hours. Finally, they wheeled Kevin into the operating room, the sterile white walls a stark contrast to the pre-operative area. The surgery itself likely didn't take long for a minor hand procedure, but the recovery process would. An hour later, Kevin emerged from the operating room, his left arm secured in a sling.

"Two weeks of keeping your arm immobilized, followed by physiotherapy, will be crucial for proper healing," the doctor explained. Kevin's gaze dropped to the sling, likely already dreading the weeks of restricted movement ahead.

Strict doctor's orders mandated another hour of observation to ensure Kevin didn't experience any postoperative nausea before he could be discharged.

When Neil returned with Kevin's medication – this time, a painkiller and an antibiotic – Andrew once again moved in front of Aaron, stopping Neil from delivering him the bottle. Neil wordlessly spilled the contents of the bottle into his palm and counted loudly, stating that it contained only the fourteen pills Kevin would need to consume. "No spare pills for the poor," Neil said to Andrew. Only then did Andrew open the way for Aaron. Aaron looked as if he'd like to comment, but Kevin's disquieting hum caught his attention. Kevin stared at his slinged hand with such desperation that everything else faded into the background.

Despite Nicky’s comfort, Aaron’s attempts at emphasizing how much better the arm's movement would be, and Andrew’s quiet presence, Kevin's scowl remained. He was likely imagining all the lost time for training that lay ahead.

Uh oh , Neil recognized that expression. It was Kevin's ‘I feel wronged and I'm going to make it everyone's problem’ face.

If Neil thought Kevin was insufferable before, he now realized that Kevin not only hit rock bottom of unbearableness, but then opened a secret door in the floor to reveal an even lower rock bottom just to jump in. During those two weeks when Kevin couldn't move his hand, he sharpened his criticism to a fine point. Even the demanded once in a while compliment didn't lighten the mood, especially since Kevin only praised their excellent thigh work.  The muscle pervert that he is. 

Neil quickly realized he'd never meet Kevin's standards. He felt Kevin's disapproval in every blink. Half the time, Neil didn't know what he was doing wrong, and the other half, he knew he couldn't change it. Everything was for Exy, starting from his early morning jog to the time spent in the gym, the afternoon scrimmages, and even the extended runs he took after dinner. He circled the campus and climbed up and down the stadium stairs. Yet, no matter how hard he pushed, the feeling of inadequacy clung to him like a leaden weight. Sleep brought temporary escape, but even changing clothes became a herculean effort, every muscle screaming in protest. Neil knew he wasn't as worthless as Kevin made him out to be, but Kevin's words still managed to chip away at his confidence.

Neil wasn't the only victim of Kevin's foul mood. Andrew seemed on the brink of violence, one angry yell away from breaking someone's hand, preferably Kevin's right one, and Aaron would probably assist him. Nicky, although more graceful in his reaction, also appeared ready to punch Kevin, damn the consequences.

Neil chose to go and reprimand Kevin himself before Andrew decided to take matters into his own hands and undo all of Neil's hard work.

“Go home. Even better, go to Wymack.” Neil pointed at the exit. He straightened all 5'-3'' of his height to glare at Kevin.

“The practice ends when I say it ends,” Kevin loomed over Neil back.

"We already talked about how yelling doesn't count as coaching. Go cool off at Coach's house." Neil narrowed his eyes and shook his finger at Kevin's face. Usually, Andrew would intervene at this point, standing between them. It spoke volumes that he was still chilling at the goal, doing nothing. In fairness, Andrew hadn't been doing much for over an hour, but that was beside the point.

Kevin's lips curled into a sneer. "And what about it, Josten? What if I don't feel like going home?" His voice dripped with defiance, a challenge laced with a hint of fear he desperately tried to hide by crossing his arms, careful not to jostle the slinged one.

Neil met his gaze unflinchingly, his own eyes burning with frustration. "Then I declare a strike," he announced, his voice low and dangerous. He didn't wait for a response, instead he pivoted sharply and marched back to the court, his footsteps resounding with resolve. "Nicky, Aaron, let's lie down and do nothing," he beckoned, his tone firm yet resigned.

Nicky didn’t need to be told twice. He flung his gear aside with a flourish and tumbled gracefully onto the ground. Neil ran and then slid on his knee pads until he came to rest beside him. Aaron, despite his usual eye rolls, seemed content to observe from the sidelines, and that won’t do . Not to be deterred, Nicky and Neil exchanged a look and each grabbed one of Aaron’s legs, pulling him down to join them. They wrestled him down in a flurry of Nicky’s giggling and Aaron’s groans. Aaron cursed them out but let himself be positioned between them. A flicker of movement caught Neil's eye. At the goal, Andrew stood frozen, pretending to adjust his stance, yet Neil knew he was ensuring that Aaron was fine.

Neil rolled onto his back to look at Andrew. "You're doing great, keep up the good work of denying Kevin," he said, raising both his thumbs up in solidarity. Nicky joined in, grinning from ear to ear.  Andrew graced them by flipping the bird.

All while they disregarded the furious, towering toddler attempting to command them from the other side of the plexiglass wall, to no avail. Kevin eventually grasped that his verbal scolding failed to elicit even the slightest reaction from the team. He stormed onto the court, panting angrily as he paced around the group. Trying various bribes to win them back, none of the offered incentives included respect, rest, or acknowledgment of wrongdoing. Therefore, not even the more merciful Nicky took the bait. After fifteen minutes, Kevin gave up and stormed out, muttering darkly about all their sins.

Andrew watched Kevin’s departure before saying, “You're really campaigning for the asshole of the year award, aren’t you?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face.

"As the defending champion, how does it make you feel?" Neil countered, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and challenge. He ignored the pointed looks his floor-companions sent him.

Andrew laughed maniacally as he saluted them before going after Kevin’s sulking form.

"Alright, cool, can we get up now?" Aaron asked once Andrew left the court. "As much as I enjoy embarrassing myself, I do have other things to do during the break."

"But I thought you liked being verbally abused by a grade C celebrity for something you volunteered to do," Nicky faked a dramatic gasp as he rose up. 

By the time they dusted off their uniforms, gathered equipment, and wrestled the balls back into their place, Kevin and Andrew were already long gone. Feeling surprisingly benevolent, Neil suggested driving them to Abby’s. He scanned the parking lot while Nicky and Aaron showered and settled on a car that hasn't budged in weeks. This time, Nicky was suspiciously quiet. Maybe he resigned himself to the changing cars Neil drove. 

After parting with them, Neil thought back on the last two weeks with Andrew. Andrew had been surprisingly nice, at least compared to his usual self. He even tried making small talk with Neil a few times. But Neil couldn't shake the feeling that the sudden friendliness was suspicious. He even point blank said so to Andrew that being nice now after he'd already been an asshole was just plain stupid. Didn’t stop Andrew from trying again and again. And he knew how much Andrew hated repeating himself, so why?

Neil couldn't think of anything suspicious he'd done recently, except maybe the clinic part,  but he had a justifiable explanation and a well-rehearsed story ready if needed. Nothing to worry about, he reassured himself. Andrew was likely just trying to get info through honey rather than vinegar, as Neil had suggested to him. 

It took another week before Kevin finally realized that Neil would stop playing by his rules the moment he felt Kevin was being too Raven-y during practice. Nicky would follow Neil's lead, and Andrew didn't need an excuse to join the strike. Aaron probably joined in due to peer pressure. 

Neil could see and understand Kevin's growing frustration, but he also preferred not having to take Kevin to a hospital due to a mysterious accident that left him with a broken nose and no witnesses. By the look Andrew and Aaron shared, it may deteriorate to having all his limbs being broken, too. 

After another training session that was hijacked by what Nicky jokingly called a ‘respect-strike,’ Neil came up with an idea to help Kevin release some steam.

"Hey, how about we go to the pool?" Neil suggested as Kevin wrestled with the uncooperative Nicky, resorting to tugging on his leg, rather unnecessarily, one might add.

“Huh?“ Kevin grumbled, then abandoned his attempt on Nicky and turned to Aaron, who was playing dead. He pulled Aaron up by his hands, but Aaron made the task difficult by curling into a ball and concentrating his mass. Kevin sighed and let go of Aaron.

"You can do your physiotherapy exercises there; water reduces the pressure on the muscles," Neil continued, unfazed as Kevin now dragged his relatively lifeless form across the court.  Andrew was spared from Kevin's attempts to move everyone – even Kevin knew it wouldn't be a good idea to touch him right now.

Kevin released Neil's legs, glanced around with a defeated expression, and muttered, "Fine, this practice couldn't get any worse."

"Awesome, everyone bring your own swimsuit and let’s meet in two hours near the pool," Neil announced, rising to his feet without missing a beat to irk Kevin further. He needed to make a couple of calls to arrange it, not to mention go back to Wymack's house to get everything sorted.

As instructed, the group assembled near the pool entrance when the meeting time approached. Neil swiped an entry card, opening the door and granting them access to the Olympic-sized pool, primarily used by the Palmetto swimming team. There was another pool at the college, but it was a regular public one, lacking the equipment Kevin might need for his physiotherapy.

"Where did you get this?" Nicky asked over Neil's shoulder, eyeing the card suspiciously.

"I asked," Neil replied reluctantly, pocketing the card. Kevin hummed approvingly, surveying the well-kept pool. Andrew had to push him in to clear the way for the others.

"What, no breaking and entering today? Feeling under the weather ?" Nicky inquired with genuine curiosity, as if he truly believed Neil was always trespassing. Aaron attempted to suppress his chuckle, while Andrew didn’t even bother, but as usual, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Neil rolled his eyes, “I asked Coach. I told him that exercising in the pool would help Kevin pull his head out of his ass.” 

In this timeline, Neil chose to be a bit more honest with Coach, so he shared with him his more harmless plans. So far, Wymack had merely given his bored approval to everything. Given Andrew’s antics last year, Neil's plans leaned more towards the 'cute' side.

"Hey," Kevin complained, glaring with equal venom at both Neil and Nicky. 

Neil waited to hear Andrew join in picking on Kevin, but Andrew was unusually quiet; Neil could only guess that he skipped a couple of doses. Lately, he had been doing it more and more, taking advantage of the lack of supervision during summer break, maybe even abusing it outright. He looked like death, and Neil almost missed his little angry snides.

“Finally a summer worthy activity, “ Nicky continued, ignoring the Kevin-glare. “Let’s change before Kevin tries to stick his head back where the sun never shines.” He and Aaron walked past Neil toward the changing rooms. Kevin shot Neil another glare before following them, with Andrew trailing behind. Neil remained where he was. He already had his swimsuit on underneath his clothes and simply waited for the others.

As expected, Andrew didn't bother with a swimsuit. Nicky and Aaron opted for simple trunks, but Kevin emerged with... well, what Neil could only describe as... an interesting choice.

Neil stared with concern at Kevin’s swimsuit. “Kevin, you do realize you're not in the Nest anymore, right? You're allowed to wear something that fits you," he remarked, noting the red and black colors adorned with a Ravens symbol.

"This is my size," Kevin stated. "I should ask what the hell you are wearing?" he gestured to the obviously normal wetsuit Neil was sporting. "Do you expect to catch waves this fine afternoon?"

"At least it's not an inch shy from being a thong," Neil raised an eyebrow. "We are going to exercise. Can you even jump in those without flashing us?" Neil probably should be thankful that Kevin didn’t opt to skinny-dip, knowing his nudist tendencies.

"Can you even move in yours?" Kevin retorted childishly. 

Neil swiftly put him in his place by performing quick stretches and demonstrating a Scorpion. ”Now you.”

"Guys, guys," Nicky intervened before Kevin could start jumping and probably letting loose a ball or two, "as much as I would like to watch..." he said carefully while side-eyeing Aaron and Andrew. When he saw that they were not planning to elbow him, he continued, "but we came here to have fun."

“Oh, don’t let us distract you from your … lover's quarrel ,” Andrew said, while laying out a towel for his sunbathing, but in the shade, so shadow-bathing? “We all already tried to discourage Kevin from his little stripper outfit.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nicky muttered under his breath, earning a sharp elbow from Aaron.

"Hey!" Kevin protested, though without any real bite.

Andrew shooed them away with a dismissive flick of his finger. “Go swim with the fishes. I crave a little peace and quiet," he remarked, slipping on sunglasses despite being indoors, likely for the vibes.

Nicky and Aaron dove into the deep end, leaving Neil to guide Kevin towards the shallows.

So there they were, he and Kevin doing important, but very annoying, exercises in shoulder deep water. Performing a peculiar kind of torture disguised as physiotherapy. Their arms stretched out like scarecrows, fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically against the water's resistance. Wrists followed suit, tracing slow circles clockwise and then counter-clockwise. Each fingertip took its turn meeting its thumb, a deliberate stretch that traveled from their fingertips to wrists. Finally, they mimicked the motion of paddling, pushing and pulling their hands through the water. And then, they started all over again. 

Kevin had better treat Neil to the most delicious meal he could find for enduring this mind-numbing routine. Especially when Neil could see Nicky and Aaron happily playing in the deep water, dunking each other and not bothering with stupid, stupid physiotherapy. God, if there was one thing Neil hated about being a friend, it was having to care about others. It was so much easier when he only cared about himself.

After an hour, Neil stepped out of the pool to take a breather between sets, leaving Kevin to float as relaxation before they went back to boring mobility exercises in the water.

He plopped down beside Andrew's rest place, drawing his attention. Andrew tilted forward, his arms crossed tightly across his knees. He stared at Neil, his face a blank canvas of utter indifference. It was unsettling. It had been weeks since Neil had last seen Andrew completely sober. Typically, the pills fueled Andrew's manic energy, but sometimes, between withdrawal phases, he'd fall into this hollow, emotionless state.  Neil wasn't the best fan of either version of him, but he had to admit he found the grinning, low impulse control version of Andrew more unsettling.

Neil glanced at the black bands around Andrew's arm. "Those will leave some interesting tan lines," he remarked casually. Andrew's response was swift; he tucked two fingers into the band on his opposite arm and slid free a long, slim blade. Metal glinted in the overhead lights as Andrew pushed it back under the dark cloth a few seconds later. “Is that your slow attempt at suicide or do you actually have sheaths built into it? You know you shouldn’t expose it to chlorine?”

"Yes," Andrew replied, casting a suspicious glare at Neil's interest. Perhaps Renee had taught him how to apply rust inhibitors to her blades; she wasn't someone who would be negligent with her weaponry.

Out of curiosity, Neil pressed on, “How many knives do you carry?”

Andrew's response was curt. "Enough."

Neil persisted, his gaze lingering on the dark bands. "Are you sure? You have tiny arms," Neil observed more intently. "It's a maximum of two knives per hand. Why not switch to thigh straps? You have relatively massive thighs for your size; you could probably fit maybe four per leg."

This time, Andrew full-on glared at him, dragging out the blade he had hidden previously.

"You would also be less likely to accidentally lose one with the straps. What would happen if a referee caught you with a weapon on the court?" Neil inquired, recalling from Nathaniel’s memories that it did happen once, and it was not a fun experience to explain. "I think that's a little more serious than a red card. You'd probably get arrested, and they might even suspend our entire team until they think they can trust us again. Then what?"

“I'd grieve forever,” Andrew dead-panned, still holding the blade in a more threatening manner.  “Your styling tips are uninteresting and would get you nowhere. Your loose ends aren't adding up.”

"I'm not a math problem," Neil easily replied, pushing the knife tip away from him. Despite Andrew's apparent annoyance, Neil didn't think he was planning to stab him right now. He could tell by the arc of Andrew's shoulders; they were relaxed.

“But I'll still solve you.”

Neil tapped two fingers to his head to signify that the challenge was accepted, then rose to his feet. He heard Kevin making noises about wanting to continue the exercises. Andrew put back the knife and resumed resting and watching his family.

After another hour, they were all exhausted, barely able to stay on their feet. Kevin somehow managed to convince Neil to let him do his hair after their showers, likely the lure of sitting down and doing nothing while Kevin took care of it won him over. 

Kevin massaged some substance into his hair, the motions strangely comforting. Sensing that Kevin needed reassurance, Neil decided to be the one to provide it. The others might not have grasped the seriousness of the situation, but Neil understood that the second time rehabilitating his arm could be even tougher to overcome for Kevin. "You'll be back on the court in no time. You know, you're Kevin freaking Day," Neil encouraged him with the unshakable confidence of someone who saw the future. “You taught yourself to become fucking ambidextrous; this is just a small bump on the way. You'll come out of it even better.”

Kevin squeezed Neil’s head tighter, his voice unexpectedly small. "What if...not?"

"Then you write a tell-all about your amazing life! You can embellish everything in the Nest, as long as you don’t expose the Yakuza business. Say Riko was begging for forgiveness after he broke your hand, say he wet the bed until college. Say Coach Moriyama moonwalked and did a Michael Jackson impersonation, and the Ravens held monthly pillow-fight tournaments. What could they do? Call you a liar? And admit to way worse stuff? Yeah, right!" Neil chuckled. "You could title it 'Kevin Seizes the Day.' How's that sound?"

Kevin responded by splashing Neil with a forceful stream of water. Coughing it out, Neil pushed the dripping hair from his face. "I guess I'd better get back to dominating the Exy court," Kevin said with a hint of his usual bravado returning to his voice. A faint smile played on Kevin's lips as he began drying Neil's hair with a towel, his strong hands gentle in the task.  "Because this sounds like a terrible idea," Kevin fondly remarked.

Neil felt a warmth spread through him beyond the simple comfort of the towel. It was the warmth of Kevin's easy banter, the familiar touch of his hands, and the unspoken understanding that went beyond words. Maybe, Neil thought, this was the essence of friendship: a constant dance of playful jabs and unwavering support, peppered with moments of quiet understanding that solidified their bond.

Oh, friendship. One could get accustomed to it.

Chapter Text

There were finally five of them on the court. Kevin was cleared to play with a stern warning from Abby not to overextend himself, or else.. . 

There may have been only five of them, but they set up as if they had two full teams: Neil and Kevin spaced out on the half-court line, Nicky at first-fourth, and Aaron at far-fourth. Andrew acted as the dealer from his place in the home goal and slammed the ball all the way to the other end of the court. The second Neil heard the crack of Andrew's racquet, he started moving, pushing up before Aaron could close him out.

Aaron let the rebound go past him. Without hesitation, Neil recognized the maneuver. Allowing the ball to drop to the floor, he kept an eye out for Kevin, who he knew would be lurking nearby to intercept. Neil sprinted alongside the ball, swiftly scooping it up the moment he spotted Kevin, and hurled it towards the nearest plexiglass. He only had two seconds before Kevin closed in, their racquets clashed with such force that Neil's nearly went flying in the opposite direction, eliciting a sharp pang of pain up his arms. Kevin was not going easy on Neil and clearly not on himself.

Still Kevin had nothing on Mika’s destructive power and Neil could easily withstand him, so Neil sped up to catch the ball back. However, his efforts were thwarted as Andrew stepped out of his box to seize the ball and swiftly returned it to the other side with a forceful slam. Neither of Neil's next attempts managed to get past Andrew's defense.

Andrew switched goals, and he served the ball toward the half court. Kevin swiftly grabbed the ball, skillfully evading Neil's attempt to intercept him and causing Neil to collide with the wall. Neil scrambled for his stick that fell and hurried after him, but Kevin's head-start was too much. Nicky tried to fend Kevin off, but Kevin faked him out and scored a few seconds later. Andrew, who should have been guarding their goal, was using his oversized racquet as a prop. He looked over his shoulder as the goal lines lit up red but didn't react otherwise.

“You could at least try,” Kevin shouted.

Andrew thought about it, then called back, “I could, couldn't I? Maybe next time!” 

Neil was pretty sure Andrew did it begrudgingly because of how Kevin acted earlier, when he was being a massive dick. Neil got where Andrew was coming from; it was terrible. Kevin was terrible. So now he was paying for it with an easy score.

Nicky caught the ball and tossed it smoothly to Andrew, who deftly caught it with his goalie glove. They quickly regrouped, and Andrew initiated the next round with another vicious serve. This time, Kevin casually jogged to meet Nicky, leaving Neil to get past Aaron. Neil dashed for the ball, with Aaron shadowing him closely. As soon as Neil was near the ball and body-checking became fair game, Aaron collided with him at full force. 

Aaron was strong, but he wasn't 200 pounds of pure muscles like a certain Millport backliner, so Neil managed to withstand the impact. However, Neil was so focused on Aaron that he failed to notice Kevin sneakily trip him, allowing Aaron to seize the ball. Neil stumbled, off-balance, and ground his racquet into the floor to stop himself from tripping over his own feet. Neil sprinted after Aaron, but just as Neil closed in on him, Aaron swiftly scooped up the ball and launched it over Neil's head to Kevin, who had advanced closer to the goal in the meantime.  Andrew watched as Kevin scored again.

“Does Andrew really plan to do nothing?” Neil asked.

“Nothing at all,” Aaron said, as simple as it was obvious, and they set up for another serve.

Andrew’s nothing infuriated Kevin so much that he shouted at Neil across the court, “How the fuck do you make Andrew actually try for you?” This caused Andrew's eyebrows to furrow in thought. Kevin's outburst could threaten Neil’s sweet gig where Andrew punished him by not giving him a chance to score. 

He should quickly distract the team from voicing any contradictions in Andrew’s logic. “Did you try being a smart-ass instead of a full-ass?” Neil cheekily remarked back. “Maybe you should have given more compliments like I told you to.”

Kevin hummed aggressively as he resumed the scrimmages. At the twenty-minute mark, he forcefully checked Neil into the wall and held him there with a gloved hand on his chest. "You need to step up your game." 

Neil found Kevin's remark rather uncalled for, considering he was confident he performed better than Nathaniel did at the same age. "Do you see Nicky as merely a decoration? This is a team sport; you need to stop playing as if you're the only one on the team." Ok, Neil had to admit, that was a valid point. Upon reflection, he realized he had been neglecting to pass to Nicky. Neil worked on it for the next set.

Playing with Nicky instead of against him, like before, was a new experience for Neil. He wasn't used to playing like this. He had to adjust his playing style to cooperate with Nicky while adhering to the rule that only allowed them to carry a ball for ten steps. It forced him to try harder and go faster, he was frustrated, then amazed, then frustrated all over again as the scrimmage wore on. He scored a couple times during the scrimmage, but his goals felt worthless when he didn't have a goalkeeper to contend with.

Forty minutes into the practice, Kevin, with a surprising lack of his usual bitchiness, called for a break. "Well," he began, his voice still gruff but not unkind, "that was... barely tolerable. But good work everyone." For Kevin, this was practically a rave review. “And Aaron, your use of the quadriceps was great in this practice.” Of course he also had to compliment someone’s powerful thighs.

Despite the weak compliments, which earned a full eye roll from Neil, this practice marked a significant shift. For the first time since Kevin’s operation, there was no underlying tension, and no one felt the urge to tear each other down. It was a small victory, but Neil cherished it nonetheless.

Each training session chipped away at the tension gripping Kevin. His shoulders, once hunched under a weight of worry, began to loosen with each easy swing of the racket. Sometimes they went to the pool, sometimes to the gym, and sometimes they goofed a bit, but finally they got into a more balanced workout without Kevin constantly complaining about how they are all far from being ready to face the new season. At times, Neil made it his mission to annoy Kevin by shadowing him and snatching all the balls meant for him. Other times, he cooperated and served as the perfect support strike to Kevin's ambitions, striving to return to top form as quickly as possible.

A glimmer of the old Kevin, or technically his future self, the vibrant, confident player he could become, began to emerge, replacing the frustration that had overshadowed him for weeks. Neil watched the transformation with a growing sense of relief. Finally, Kevin was finding his footing, rediscovering the joy in the game.

Neil returned to Wymack's apartment around noon after a run. He found the door unlocked, and Neil pondered raising the issue of Wymack's lax approach to security once more. Just because everyone tended to break in rather than knocking didn't mean he could simply neglect locking his door. He noticed that the door was slightly ajar, allowing him to catch the furious voices of Kevin and Wymack in the midst of an argument. He pressed his ear against the opening, holding his breath, already guessing what had come.

“Damn it, Kevin, I said sit down!"

"I won't!" Kevin shot back, his voice twisted with fear and panic.

A hard thud echoed through the apartment, the sound of bodies slamming against the wall. Using the momentary distraction, Neil slipped through the unlocked door, shutting it softly behind him. The effort was futile. It sounded like Wymack and Kevin were knocking over everything Wymack owned, and Neil winced at the loud crash of falling objects. He sneaked closer to see them.

He found Wymack holding Kevin by the arms, his voice a low growl. "Look at me," he demanded, his grip tightening slightly. "Look at me, god damn you, and breathe."

Kevin's eyes, dilated and wild, darted around the room as if searching for an escape route. His chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths that rasped in his throat. Sweat dripped down his face, and eyes glossy. "I warned Andrew he was going to come for me," Kevin choked out, his voice a broken whisper. "I told him!"

Wymack's grip softened, his voice losing some of its harshness. "It doesn't matter. You signed a contract with me."

Kevin's face crumpled further. "He could pay off my scholarship in a heartbeat," he stammered, voice rising in desperation. "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 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 this time."

"Shut up," Wymack said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're not going anywhere." Wymack's grip shifted, one hand moving to Kevin's face, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You hear me? You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere."

"I can't tell Riko no!" Kevin shouted hysterically.

"Then don't say a word," Wymack shouted back. "Keep your mouth shut and let me and Andrew do the talking. Yes, Andrew. Don't tell me you forgot about that psycho. Want to tell him you're thinking about going back?"

Silence followed that. Neil waited, holding his breath, until Wymack spoke again. He was quieter this time, but concern made his voice more gruff than comforting.

"I'm not letting you go back there. Nothing says I have to. Your contract says you belong to me. He can send us 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 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."

Kevin's shoulders slumped further, his voice heavy with defeat. "That was before," he muttered, his words thick with misery. "This is now."

Wymack sighed, his voice laced with a weary frustration. "The ERC is giving us until June before they break the news. They saw how many security issues we had over 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 Andrew until then. Tell me you can see Andrew today and not completely freak out."

"Andrew will figure it out. He's not stupid."

"Then you have to be the better liar," Wymack said in a hard voice. "The ERC is looking for a reason to take him away from us, and you know they won't give him back. Then where will you be?"

Silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of the situation. Neil held his breath, unsure if they had reached an impasse or just needed a moment to absorb the gravity of Wymack's words.

"Give me your phone," Kevin rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. The urgency in his tone mirrored that of a death row inmate pleading for a final call before their execution.

Wymack's face hardened, his voice laced with a barely contained growl. "If you think I'm going to let you use my phone to call him, you–"

But Kevin cut him off, his voice laced with raw desperation. "Jean," he croaked, his eyes pleading. "I have to call Jean."

The silence stretched once more between them. Wymack, seemingly accepting Kevin's reasoning for now, handed him the phone.  Neil waited, wondering if he should intervene now or let Kevin talk to Jean. Either way, Neil decided to point out that Andrew’s medication made him a bit manic but not irrational. 

Kevin locked eyes on the phone, the intensity of his gaze suggesting he wished it would both burst into flames and deliver him the peace of mind he craved. Neil knew that it would bring him neither. Kevin dialed the number, his voice, even in the familiar cadence of French, was heavy with despair.

"Tell me it isn't true," Kevin pleaded, his Marseillais dialect thick, different from future-Kevin who tended to speak more Canadian Quebecois. Neil had only learned Quebecois when he was in Montreal, but with Nathaniel’s mastery of dialects and linguistics, including this, Neil didn’t have a problem following the conversation. 

Kevin muttered, his gaze falling, "Tell me he didn't." There was a pause. "Are you… how are you?"

Neil couldn't hear the answer, but the sharp slap of the phone snapping shut again said it wasn't the one Kevin wanted. The couch creaked under Kevin’s body weight and Neil could see how he was sinking onto the cushion in despair.

"Wait here," Wymack said, turning to the door. He was surprised when he spotted Neil there but said nothing. Neil watched as Coach disappeared into the kitchen. He recognized the sound of Wymack's liquor cabinet by now, the click of the lock and the soft clink of the glass doors. As much as Neil didn’t want to criticize the older man, alcohol was the wrong way to deal with Kevin’s panic, and given the inherited tendency to alcoholism, probably an even worse choice. Neil stepped into the living room, dropping down next to the startled Kevin. 

“I heard everything.” Neil clarified to Kevin even before he could ask. With a sigh, Neil rested his head on Kevin's lap. "Yeah, pet me like one of your French buddies,” he said, even guiding one of Kevin's hands to his hair. It worked. Instead of spiraling further, Kevin began to pet him, offering a temporary moment of comfort. Kevin's anxiety often could be calmed with touch, as Sharek had explained, likely stemming back to his upbringing at the Nest.

Still, it wasn’t a real solution; if only trauma could be fixed with hugs, puppies, and everything nice. Then Wymack returned with a handle of vodka and dropped it off on the table. Kevin chugged it before Neil could comment that it was a bad idea.

Coach sat down in front of them, not questioning their sitting arrangement. “I wasn't going to tell anyone else until June,” Wymack said to Neil. “How much did you hear?”

“He heard everything.” Kevin responded, finally setting the bottle down on the table. Neil, in an attempt to appear nonchalant, discreetly moved the bottle from the table to under the sofa, hoping that putting it out of sight would also put it out of mind.

Wymack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Edgar Allan submitted a transfer request to the ERC, and it was approved this morning. They'll be moving to the southeastern district effective June 1st."

Neil adjusted his head to meet Wymack's gaze, stare filled with annoyance and admission. "And let me guess," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration, "we can't complain or change it?"

Kevin, ignoring the current mood, continued to absentmindedly run his fingers through Neil's curls, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Not really," Coach easily agreed, his voice flat. He then cast a pointed look around the room, his gaze lingering on the table as if searching for something lost. "They're the only NCAA Exy team in West Virginia, so it was a simple matter of a vote and a few signatures."

Neil scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, another media circus, then?" It was a rhetorical question; of course, the ERC wanted to draw more attention to the next season of Exy.

"Yeah," Kevin chimed in, his voice laced with a weary resignation. "They just can't get enough of me, can they?" A wry smile played on his lips, a testament to the familiar burden of being the golden boy under constant public scrutiny. No one in the room understood that feeling better than him.

Under the table, Neil discreetly nudged the vodka bottle further back with his foot just as Wymack began scanning the floor beneath his armchair. He hoped Kevin wouldn't remember the disappeared liquor. Neil rose up to scoot closer to Kevin, placing a hand on his shoulder and allowing Kevin to maneuver him into a half-hug.

Alcohol was prohibited  in the Nest, so Kevin should be more accustomed to dealing with trauma through physical affection, typically with Jean but also with Riko, as seen last Christmas, which Neil found surprising considering their deteriorating relationship in recent years. However, being brothers was probably something not so easily cast aside. He crossed his fingers that it wasn't too late to break the cycle of using alcohol as an emotional crutch.

“They know there's a lot to gain from it,” Wymack stated grimly, his frustration evident in his tone. He sank back onto the armchair, abandoning his search for the bottle, and continued,  "While Kevin's transfer brought on a media storm, it also revitalized interest in Exy. The ERC wants to capitalize on that momentum and orchestrate the ultimate narrative: Kevin and Riko reunited on the court, this time as bitter rivals. The outcome holds no real significance; they know what publicity and funding they can score with such a move.”

They all sighed simultaneously. Nothing could be done against the heavy boots of capitalism.

“I'd hoped they'd thrown you away,” Wymack said to Kevin, then changed his gaze to Neil. “Everyone said Kevin would never play again. Edgar Allan had to release Kevin from his school contract because of the severity of his injuries, and Tetsuji didn't argue when I took Kevin on as an assistant coach. I thought they were ready to let him go. But Tetsuji has all the frustrated entitlement of an overlooked second son,” the bitterness in Wymack’s voice sounded personal for the first time. 

"What can I say, I'm the son of Exy as long as I can hold a racquet in my hands," Kevin remarked, his bitterness mirroring Wymack's. He pulled Neil closer, until Neil was partially seated on his lap. Though Neil felt a flicker of discomfort, a subtle unease…  

He remembered the Vodka under the sofa. 

He remembered the long battle future-Kevin had with the bottle, one which he lost and only managed to maintain to a functional level. 

He remembered the vomit, the shaking hands, the tantrums and anxiety from various attempts to withdraw from the drink.

He remembered the boy who had witnessed alongside him how his father had reduced a man to a whimpering mess of blood, bone, and flesh... 

Neil forced the memories to recede. It felt oddly unsettling to be finally horrified by his own memories, rather than those of a stranger. With a sigh, Neil relaxed his posture. If Kevin needed a human-sized teddy bear instead of a hard drink, Neil, for his friend, could be that for him.

"You're the son of Exy, with or without your ability to play. It's your birthright. Even Tetsuji Moriyama can't take that from you." Neil tried to say it in a reassuring tone, awkwardly patting Kevin's tattooed cheek.

Coach's voice yanked Neil back into the conversation. "When your mother, Kayleigh, died, Tetsuji didn't take you in out of the kindness of his heart," he stated bluntly. "He raised you to be a star. As far as he considered, you are still a valuable property. He would try to claim most of any profit you make as rightfully Moriyamas'.”

"I know," Kevin said, swallowing hard. His voice held a hint of resignation. 

"Tetsuji is likely planning to cash in on his investment," Wymack said. "No one truly expects a comeback from you. This year, you may still be a star. But if you can't keep up and perform, the fans and critics will move on and forget about you. Tetsuji anticipates your burnout, aiming to exploit this window of opportunity." It was harsh, but Coach likely believed being upfront about the upcoming challenges would serve Kevin better than sugar-coating his “family” situation.

Despair painted Kevin's face as his eyes glazed over, unseeing. His hands, no longer gentle, squeezed Neil's arm with a desperate intensity, repeatedly smoothing over the same spot as if grounding himself to reality. Neil, clearly out of his depth, could only offer a token gesture, patting Kevin's shoulder with a misplaced tenderness.

Kevin's frantic breathing mirrored the increasing speed of his hand movements. His voice, raw with dread, rasped, "What if the Master called me back, demanding I stop playing? Or worse, demanding I play worse ?" He spat the words out, each one faster than the last, a torrent of fear cascading over him. "What if he wants me back altogether?" The question hung in the air, a stark reminder of his powerlessness, echoing the despair etched onto his features.

Despite the growing vice around his arm, Neil held his ground, silently comforting the panicking Kevin. Kevin pulled him even closer. Neil felt a bit like an overgrown lap dog seated astride his mistress, but, oh, well, dignity isn't really a concern at this point.

"Tetsuji is too proud to stoop to these kinds of petty tricks," Wymack reminded Kevin. It was true; Tetsuji was indeed above such tactics. But not Riko. And Kevin knew it all too well.

"Look at me," Neil said, placing both hands on Kevin's cheeks the moment he noticed Kevin's gaze darting around the table. He gently forced Kevin's eyes to meet his own. "We've got this. You have Coach here, the team, me, and Andrew. We'll stop Riko from contacting you directly and messing with your head."

Wymack nodded and gave Neil and Kevin a side-eye. Perhaps even he had a limit to how much strange behavior he could pretend not to notice. Kevin didn't notice, and Neil just shrugged.

“If we're already mentioning Andrew, I think it would be better to tell him too, considering the relationship he and Kevin have,” Neil suggested, glancing at Wymack, finally figuring out how to broach the subject.

“I'm not dating Andrew,” Kevin said wearily, as if he'd had to clarify it numerous times. For someone who tries platonic-snuggling with all his friends, he could sometimes be short-sighted.

"Never said you are," Neil rolled his eyes. "What do you think would happen if he found out earlier?" He knew why Kevin was reluctant to tell Andrew now, but not why Wymack was avoiding it. "Wouldn't it be better if he had more time to adjust? What? Do you think he'll take the first flight to Evermore and launch a one-man attack on the Ravens? Murder Riko? Start publicly spilling all the Moriyama family secrets?"

“He may try to take matters into his own hands.” Wymack sighed, his weariness deepening with every word.

“Everything Andrew could do now, he can also do in June,” Neil replied, rubbing circles with his thumbs on Kevin’s cheeks, hopefully in a soothing manner. This was another attempt to offer comfort, though Neil wasn't entirely confident in his approach. “The more time he has to think it over, the better. Not to mention that Andrew never has been an offense-type of person,” Neil stated, raising his eyebrow while giving both Kevin and Wymack a look.

“Him being a goalkeeper has nothing to do with it,” Kevin replied, frustration rising in his tone

Neil sighed, softening his approach. “No, Andrew is usually on the defense ,” Neil emphasized. 

“Oh,” Kevin mumbled, finally realizing.

“ Oh .” Neil, unable to resist a jab, mimicked him in a mocking tone.

"So you're suggesting that Andrew won’t take action until the Ravens come here to start their shenanigans?" Coach explicitly articulated Neil’s implications, appearing convinced by Neil’s points. Now, he just needed to resolve Kevin’s issues about it, and then they could go ahead and tell Andrew.

“Kevin, how about I kidnap you and you will see that Andrew is serious about being by your side?” Neil suggested, opting for a direct and straightforward approach to ease Kevin's fears.

“What?!” Both Kevin and Coach stared at Neil like he'd sprouted a second head.

“Kevin would see that he has nothing to be afraid of,” Neil insisted. He genuinely believed it would solidify Kevin's trust in Andrew.

"Kevin's twice your size, kid," Coach pointed out, a frown creasing his brow. "And frankly, I'm not sure what you're aiming for here."

Kevin, a mix of amusement and bewilderment on his face, chimed in, "Yeah, right. Like you could pull that off. But hey, go for it."

Undeterred, Neil poked Kevin's chest. “Ok, next week. If I pull it off, you have to tell Andrew.” 

“Sure,” the men readily agreed, not fully believing him. And Neil took it personally .

A quick glance at the clock sent a jolt through Kevin. "Gotta go," he muttered, shoving Neil off his lap. "Andrew's therapy session with Betsy ends at four.  He can’t know about this"

Wymack stood up, jingling his car keys. "I'll give you a lift back to Abby's." 

As soon as the door closed behind them, a determined gleam sparked in Neil's eyes as he began to plan for the following week. Time to strategize.

First, Neil rented a rusty, dirty minivan, one with a big cargo space. He bought the closest orange paint to match the shadow-defying orange of the court and some other accessories so his car would resemble one used by the college maintenance crew. 

Mother may have taught him not to waste his money on nonsense, which meant in her lexicon, as anything that wasn’t strictly for survival. However, she was all in for wasting someone else's money, so Neil gladly planned to carry out his kidnapping scheme on Luca’s dime. He would also get a tax-cut if he listed it as a charity-event.

Aware that Kevin had returned to his late-night practices, Neil deduced that Kevin and Andrew would be alone on the court between 10 PM and 1 AM each night. Once he geared up, the next step was to gradually ease Andrew's aversion to new people. This plan spanned five days.

On the first night, he parked near Andrew's usual spot, then disappeared before practice ended. It is always best to start by simply showing a presence.

On the second night, he parked the car near the GS and waited for them to leave before relocating his vehicle, allowing Andrew to gradually get used to seeing it in the court's parking lot.

On the third night, Neil arrived before Andrew and Kevin, hiding near the court. When Andrew's car pulled up, Neil, disguised in a long brown wig with his face covered by a respirator, quickly hopped into the minivan and drove off. People might become suspicious if they didn’t see the owner of the new car, so Neil presented himself as a harmless painter going about her work. Feminism be darned, at the end of the day people still tended to lower their guard when encountering a petite woman in the middle of the night compared to a man.

On the fourth night, Neil timed it perfectly, arriving as they entered their car after their night practice. Parking next to them, he once again pretended to be a painter, blending in seamlessly with another routine night of paint repair.

With both Andrew and Kevin presumably accustomed to seeing the minivan by now, the fifth night would be showtime.

Neil heavily padded the trunk; after all, he didn’t want to hurt Kevin. He placed a couple of pillows and a water bottle inside—not that he planned to kidnap Kevin for long, but just in case. He also included a paint bucket and some painting equipment, and of course, a sack to put over Kevin’s face for authenticity.

Double-checking the distance, Neil parked his minivan near the GS. Close enough for Kevin's usual passenger-side seat, but not too close so he still has a comfortable field of movement. Adrenaline thrummed through him as he spotted Kevin and Andrew approaching the car. No time to waste. 

Neil got out calmly, leaving the car in drive but with the handbrake engaged. He yanked open the back of his van. Grabbing paint buckets, brushes, and a ladder—like someone with a job, like someone who doesn't plan to kidnap an Exy player. People rarely expect someone to ditch their belongings, even less from someone so focused on a task. It was his in. 

As per routine, Andrew unlocked the car first, sliding into the driver's seat. Kevin usually took a bit longer to settle and sit, but not tonight. Neil's heart hammered as Kevin leaned closer: it was now or never. Neil pulled the sack, engulfing Kevin's head.

"Kevin, it's me, Neil! Relax!" he hissed, shoving him into the open trunk and slamming it shut. 

A blur of movement caught Neil's eye. Andrew was scrambling out of his car. But it was too late. Neil slammed into the driver's seat, yanked the handbrake up and sped off. Tires squealed as he peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Andrew to scramble back into the GS. A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed his pursuer hot on his tail.

A familiar scream echoed from the back of the van. “Neil Fucking Josten! I'm going to bloody murder you in your sleep.”

"Not my middle name," Neil commented gleefully, making sharp turns to keep Andrew at bay, but not straying too far from him. He didn’t want Andrew to truly panic. "And you have yet to discover where I sleep."

“Andrew’s going to FUCKING MURDER you,” the muffled voice yelled.

"Oh, don't worry. I’m making sure to stay within Andrew's line of sight. It's not like I'm actually kidnapping you."

A string of even more colorful curses erupted from the trunk. Kevin utilized the entire "kidnapping" time to vividly describe every last detail of Neil's ancestry and their supposed lack of capabilities, leaving no stone unturned. Considering Neil's real family, in some cases Kevin probably wasn’t as far off as he thought.

Neil turned into his final destination, a deserted parking lot near Palmetto, the whole ordeal clocking in under ten minutes. Hopefully, with minimal panic for everyone involved. Neil parked and removed his disguise, then swiftly popped open his trunk to release a very fuzzy Kevin, who blinked furiously while dusting himself off.

“See this as payback for my kidnapping,” Neil said while helping Kevin step out into the open space. 

Before Kevin could reply, a flash of headlights cut through the darkness. Andrew's car. There was no time for explanations. Neil did the one thing to do when faced with an enraged Minyard. He got the higher ground. By climbing onto the minivan roof. 

From his precarious perch, he peered down at a livid Andrew emerging from his car. Andrew had a knife in his hand, oh no, he actually had two. Good thing Neil got the highest van in the car rental agency. Its six-foot-three frame towered over Andrew, who fumed impotently below. Andrew gave Kevin a once-over to see if he was fine, then approached Neil’s position.

"Josten," Andrew's voice was a low growl, laced with a deadly edge. He lunged at the van, the knife tips scraping sparks against the metal as he stabbed repeatedly. A feral snarl twisted his features as he glanced up at Neil. 

Andrew gave a quick glance at the van and probably concluded that by the time he climbed the car, Neil would be down. He spat, venom dripping from his words. “We already had the talk about you touching my things.”

Neil's heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He scooted back cautiously, checking the precarious distance to the van's edge. “And like the previous time, I asked.”

Kevin, the bastard, didn't back Neil up right away. He seemed to relish in Neil's distress, drawing out the moment before finally admitting, "Yeah, he asked, and I agreed." His words shifted Andrew's attention from Neil to him.

Andrew's face twisted in dismay. "Why?" he demanded, one knife pointed at Kevin in a menacing stance.

Kevin, reminded that Andrew was not above slightly stabbing his charges, flushed. ”It was a bet.”

“Bullshit,” Neil corrected him. "I wanted you to tell Andrew, but you only agreed to spill the beans after I managed to pull it off. I would've much preferred if you had told him a week ago."

Andrew's voice was a low growl as he inched closer to Kevin, emphasizing each word with a menacing step. "What. Did. You. Have. To. Tell. Me?"

“TheRavensAreMovingToTheSoutheasternDistrict,” Kevin blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in his haste. Even Neil, who already knew, struggled to decipher the jumbled phrase.

Taking a deep breath, Kevin tried again, this time enunciating more clearly. "The Ravens are moving to our district. We'll have to play against them."

Andrew's smile turned predatory, all sharp teeth and a glint in his eyes. "Oh, Kevin," he purred, his voice dripping with a dangerous sweetness. "What is it I hear? Does someone miss their old teammate a little too much?"

Kevin's throat tightened, the nervous swallow becoming a painful gulp. "Don't let him take me away," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

Andrew chuckled, a sound devoid of humor, swinging the knife from side to side.“You're the one who would tell him yes ,” he said to Kevin, his voice dripping with false friendliness. "Still doesn’t explain your and Mister-Kidnapper-Here's elaborate scheme."

Neil, having climbed down from the van, met Andrew's gaze head-on. "Think about it," he said, his voice calm despite the pounding in his chest. “Kevin was tossed aside by his family of ten years, just because he couldn’t keep up to their standard with a broken hand. It isn’t such a leap in conclusion to understand why he fears that the guy who has known him for less than a year and who can barely tolerate his presence might abandon him at the first inconvenience."

Neil really didn’t have the patience for Andrew-Kevin miscommunication. Like, silent meaningful stares into each other's eyes could only convey so much. Sometimes people need to put on their big-boy pants and express their real vulnerable feelings. But neither of them was at that stage yet, so Neil took a shortcut. He wanted the team to unite faster than in the other timeline.

Andrew didn't waver, his gaze flickering between Neil and Kevin, the knives still held up. Neil didn’t kid himself that Andrew wasn’t still extremely furious, so he didn’t try to step closer to Andrew and Kevin, and kept his stance relaxed and non-threatening. 

"This," Neil began, his voice steady despite the churning in his stomach, "was the fastest way to resolve the issue, Kevin saw that you won’t leave him at the first sign of trouble, and you don’t have to wait until June to discover this piece of information.”

“Josten,” Andrew took a step forward, making Neil feel like he needed to take a step back. But Neil wouldn’t. “I also remember telling you to keep to your lane.”

“And I remind you again that I asked ,” Neil stressed.

Kevin let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, he asked," he confirmed, running a hand through his hair. "But I never thought he'd do it like that." He looked at Andrew.

"How did you think I would do it? Wave a magic wand? Or maybe with a criminal crew that I just happen to own?" Neil quipped, throwing his hands up in a mocking gesture. Kevin threw his hands up, mimicking Neil, then crossed his arms.

“Maybe.” Andrew tugged his knives into his wristbands. “Just maybe, you two dumbasses should have consulted with a responsible adult before cooking up this plan.”

“Wymack approved it,” Neil pointed out.

“Yeah,” Kevin quickly agreed, “Coach knew too, and he said okay.”

Andrew couldn't have looked more perplexed and angry if he tried, as if he didn’t expect Coach to be in the know. Personally, Neil too was a little surprised, but what is a little kidnapping between friends? It’s not like Wymack thought that Neil would put Kevin in any real danger.

Neil, unused to such raw emotion from Andrew, shifted uncomfortably. "Ooo-kay. Not like I didn’t have fun, sure, but I also have a car to return and stuff."

Andrew gave him his special death glare. Neil wasn’t as immune as he thought. 

And that's how Neil found himself crammed in the back of the GS with Kevin, both looking like scolded toddlers. Andrew, a dark cloud of simmering fury behind the wheel, steered them towards Wymack's at 2 AM.

Kevin, likely in self-preservation, piped up from the back. "Can't this wait? Pretty sure the man's asleep at this hour."

 "No.” Andrew's jaw clenched tighter, if that was even possible. ”And good."

Andrew skidded to a halt in front of Wymack's door. Instead of using Neil's key or resorting to breaking in per usual, Andrew opted for a more barbaric approach: pounding on the door like someone fleeing a deranged serial killer.

A flurry of movement came from inside the apartment, followed by the clatter of objects being knocked over. Coach, wielding a baseball bat, flung open the door. His eyes, narrowed with sleep, landed squarely on Andrew. "What the hell, Minyard? It's 3 AM!"

"2 AM," Andrew corrected curtly before striding inside. Neil and Kevin followed close behind, with Neil at least sending Wymack an apologetic look.

“So, what brings you all to my humble home?” Wymack muttered, pouring himself a cup of coffee. ”At three fucking-o’clock”. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was a tangled mess. He cast a stern look at each person. Wymack sat in his armchair while they all crammed together on the sofa. Kevin fell asleep as soon as his butt touched the cushion.

“2 AM.” Andrew corrected him again in a deadpan voice. “Neil kidnapped Kevin and you apparently gave an approval for this.” 

Wymack's gaze snapped to Neil, who in turn shrugged before stealing a sip from the coffee cup.

"Also," Andrew continued, "Edgar Allan Poe's coming south. But hey, guess I missed the memo."

Wymack sighed. "Look, one, I was supposed to only break that news in June. I told Kevin to give him time to process it, and Neil just...well, Neil knows because he's a nosy bastard." Though Wymack's tone was more playful than accusatory.

Neil mumbled into the cup, which he'd swiped again, taking a gulp of caffeine. "Not my fault you discuss sensitive information with the door wide open."

Wymack ignored the comment. "And two, Neil spouts insane shit as a joke all the time," Wymack said, while staring at them over his mug of coffee that he managed to take back from Neil. "How was I supposed to know this one was true?"

Neil, eyes wide and innocent, did a perfect 'Who, me?' impression, complete with pointing a finger at himself.

“Let me refresh my memory,” Wymack rumbled, setting down his mug with a thump. "He once told me he was committing health insurance fraud, that he once drove Andrew’s car, that he had healthcare coupons and used them in some clinic, that he forced Kevin to give people compliments, and once that he was going to break into the maintenance hub to fetch the pool’s security card," he began listing all the strange things he had heard.

Andrew shot Coach a long look, prompting a muttered "Shit, really?" from Wymack.

"Really ," Andrew replied with dripping sarcasm. He then stood up, roused the sleeping Kevin, and simply walked out, not even offering Neil a ride back to his car.

Fair enough, honestly.

Neil had the pleasure of enduring Wymack's lecture on how, despite Wymack previously claiming Neil's "break-in jokes" were cool, they were, in fact, very not cool. Coach further demanded that Neil cease trespassing on various campus facilities, and no, claiming that he ‘borrowed it’ didn't make it any better. Neil pouted in response, but alas, no luck.

Neil promised at least not to tell Wymack about it anymore. And only then Wymack let him go out and gather back all his 'kidnap operation' stuff.

Summer break felt like it would never end, still the last day of summer came.

Amanda handed Andrea a list of emails to send to the ‘O'Connell Syndicate’.

"Boss, are you sure we can't just send everything at once?" Andrea raised his eyebrows, scrutinizing the supposed schedule for mailing information. "I bet we'd get better results selling it as a complete package rather than dribbling it out slowly."

"There's wisdom in that," Amanda agreed, double-checking that each email contained the precise data they intended to share. "Sometimes, a slow drip of information, like a trail of small baits, is more effective than a single, large lure when you're trying to catch the bigger fish." 

“Kevin Day sounds familiar,” Andrea said, pointing at the most frequent name in the emails. “Is he a celebrity or something?”

Luckily Amanda knew that both his employers were oblivious to sport gossip. Neither cared a shit about Exy, nor did they suspect Kevin's connections to organized crime. He didn't worry about them putting two and two together—they were too busy minding their business.

"No relation," Amanda replied coolly, a hint of a predator's grin playing on his lips. Andrea clicked send.

Summer ended, and with that the grace of a safety period for both Neil and Kevin.

Chapter Text

NEIL POV:

Andrew's eyes narrowed into icy slits as he spoke in a low growl, his finger pointing chillingly at Neil. "You're on thin ice," he warned, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness. "Don't push your luck, Josten."

Neil's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Like I was ever on firm ground with you," he retorted, pointing back at Andrew. Then, perhaps due to a lack of self-preservation in his tired state, he stuck out his tongue at Andrew. "Pushing my luck is all I know, Minyard. Isn't that why the team keeps me around?" His tone carried a mix of defiance and amusement.

Andrew made a disgusted face before pushing past Neil, giving him a sharp shove. Nicky followed him to the car without a word. Neil waved them off with exaggerated cheerfulness, then finally, Nicky drove the car away, leaving Neil with the peace and quiet he had been craving since late morning.

ANDREW POV:

While heading back to Abby’s, Andrew had half a mind to ask Nicky to pull over so he could return to the court and interrogate Josten about all the new discoveries'.

There was Josten’s possible knowledge gleaned from Riko's loose lips, information about Andrew. Then his talent for pilfering. Was it more than just a quirk? His appearance at Palmetto, just when Coach was desperate for a Striker. His guarded demeanor, the way he clutched that mystery bag like it contained his very essence. And those damn health coupons.

Fury warred with a chilling dread within Andrew. Was Neil Josten merely a petty thief with uncanny timing, or something more sinister? A pawn in a larger game.

But, Andrew promised .

He had promised the gremlin that he wouldn’t bother him while he was showering. 

Oh well, Andrew couldn’t wait until the whole team would be back, so he could finally start cracking the mystery that Kevin had brought upon them. Having Josten finally in a fixed location with an easily breakable lock was an added bonus.

Andrew despised surprises, but Josten just had to be the gift that kept on giving . Every new thing Andrew found out about the nuisance just raised more questions. The more Andrew thought about it the more he felt like going completely off the rails. He never wanted to push someone down and shut up their fucking mouth . 

Andrew considered silencing this annoying tongue for good. Cutting it out would undoubtedly bring an end to the annoyance. Dip dip , it would surely bleed nicely, the tongue would wiggle wiggle , but no sound would emerge. But no, it wouldn’t help, Josten had a way of being insufferable with just two fingers tapping on his temple.

They arrived at Abby’s before Andrew's mental image of a tongueless Josten berating him could fully form. Nevertheless, Andrew had more pressing matters to attend to. He would begin with the simplest one.

"Oh, Nicky, what did I tell you about letting strangers drive my car?" he asked the moment Nicky exited the GS. Nicky had already used one chance when he let one of his college friends from Eden drive him because he had drunk too much. The guy smoked in the car, and not even Andrew’s brand. It took a month for his car to stop smelling like an awful cigar.

"I had no idea! I never thought he'd do something like that!" Nicky’s voice trembled with guilt and disbelief. "I swear, I thought he meant the white Ford!"

"Yeah, cut him a little slack," Aaron surprisingly jumped in. "It's not like he gave Josten the keys or something." It seemed like his doppelganger had gained some spine after Josten won him the 'Kevin's medication' case. Good, Andrew wasn’t against Aaron speaking up, as long as he kept his side of the promise.  

But Andrew already sensed that he hadn't. Aaron should do a better job of hiding his little secrets because he's not very good at playing coy. Andrew would sniff it out, but later.

"Second strike, Nicky," Andrew said, lighting up a cigarette. Kevin rolled his eyes at the Minyards' antics, never one to intervene on anything not Exy-related, except if it somehow connected to Josten . Another thing he needed to get to the bottom of.

"Andrew," Aaron, once again displaying his newfound spine, "it wasn’t Nicky's fault. If you want to stab someone, stab Josten." Not much solidarity for the guy who gave him courage. But what's new? Aaron was always quick to discard someone the moment his help wasn’t needed. Andrew knew . 

Kevin was wise enough not to point out that Andrew had already tried it once, albeit half-heartedly, but Josten still proved to be a slippery bastard. Kevin crossed his arms, patiently waiting for them to finish their argument.

Andrew ignored Aaron, treating his brother as if he were air. It was a matter of principle. Between cigarette puffs, he raised two fingers at Nicky, mouthing ‘one last chance’. Nicky nodded slowly and reached out to put his hand on Andrew's shoulder. Andrew reacted by violently striking the hand aside and directing a knife at Nicky, spitting out the cigarette. 

The latest developments put Andrew quite on edge, all his senses going into overdrive. Andrew acknowledged that he may have overreacted. But …

Four fucking years had passed , yet Nicky still attempted to use touch as a calming gesture.

"I’m sorry," Nicky stammered, lowering his hands.

"Andrew," Aaron said softly, but Andrew menacingly pointed the blade toward him, observing as Aaron's courage washed off. Oh well, it was what one would expect from poor Aaron. After a moment, Andrew sheathed his knife and walked into Abby’s house without acknowledging anyone else. Kevin’s steps followed him without missing a bit.

Andrew wasn’t an idiot; he recognized that Nicky's love language leaned more towards the traditional side, involving physical touch, words of encouragement, and grand gestures of affection. But Andrew couldn’t perceive it.

Yes, Nicky fed him, clothed him, and put a roof over his head, and yes, it was a huge feat for nineteen-year-old Nicky. But at the end of the day, it was the bare minimum of what was expected from a guardian. He remembered all his previous foster families doing the same and then expecting him to accept any mistreatment because, oh, look at how much they had done for him. He was supposed to be so, oh, so thankful that they even bothered to provide this much for the poor, unfortunate him.

Andrew had had enough of receiving scraps from the floor and being expected to treat them as a feast for kings, even if those scraps were all the other person could offer, even if those scraps were hard to come by. Unfortunately for Nicky, he arrived too late . Ten-year-old Andrew would have licked the familiar affection straight from his fingers, twelve-year-old Andrew would have appreciated Nicky’s efforts, and even fourteen-year-old Andrew would have felt a pang of appreciation. But Nicky came too late, and Andrew was tired of applauding the bare minimum of what constituted a family. 

"We can’t afford to lose a backliner," Kevin commented with half-hearted interest, interrupting as always with Andrew's course of thought. Kevin of course wouldn’t bat an eye if Andrew stabbed Nicky after providing a replacement. What’s the chance of another fool just stumbling into Wymack’s apartment as a new backliner?

"He'll be alright," Andrew replied, scanning the room. Abby wasn't home yet, probably still at her summer job, assisting at the nearby hospital. That suited Andrew just fine; she tended to be overly sensitive about how he treated his family, and Nicky's sorrowful gaze would provide her with all the ammunition she needed to nag Andrew about being more gentle with them. He went to his and Kevin's room.

Aaron and Nicky arrived just as Andrew fished out his secret whiskey, taken from Coach’s flat. Another reason to rejoice Abby’s absence. Nicky sheepishly joined them at the table, while Aaron paused and then snatched Kevin's glass of whiskey, glaring at Andrew.

"We need to hide all the booze from Kevin," Aaron said in German, slipping a pill into Kevin's hand and taking a swig of the stolen whiskey. It must have burned Aaron's throat, judging by how he barely stifled a cough, followed by a grimace he quickly tried to conceal. Aaron was more of a tequila or cheap beer kind of guy, unlike Andrew, who preferred more sophisticated drinks. Aaron set the glass down with a sharp tap, the sound echoing in the room.

“Why? ” Nicky asked, looking quite puzzled that Aaron was the one to suggest it. Andrew, too, was intrigued by Aaron's sudden concern about Kevin's alcohol intake.

"I am right here, and I can clearly recognize my own name,” Kevin glared at both Aaron and Nicky, “even if you say it with a German accent." 

"You can't drink anymore, not until your surgery," Aaron said, switching back to English and pushing a glass of water into Kevin's hand. "Now take it."

Kevin swallowed his pill, his glare fixed on Aaron. He gestured vaguely with his chin, clearly demanding an explanation.

"You can't take medication with alcohol," Aaron sighed, rolling his eyes as if it were obvious.

"Didn't stop me," Andrew commented. "I lived, didn't I?"

"Yeah, Andrew turned out alright," Kevin nodded in agreement.

Aaron sighed, rolling his eyes. "You really shouldn't," he said, holding up a finger and pointing at Andrew. "You take a mood stabilizer. Worst-case scenario? Nausea or diarrhea. Embarrassing, but not deadly." He gestured towards Kevin. "You, on the other hand, need to take a muscle relaxer. It can depress the central nervous system." Aaron counted on his fingers. "Drowsiness, dizziness, stumbling around like a toddler - not fun. But worse, it can mess with your breathing, make you pass out, or even, in extreme cases, lead to an overdose." He paused, looking at Kevin seriously. "Not to mention the increased risk of further damaging your hand."

Kevin continued to glare at him. "Fine, be my guest, ruin your hand and life for all I care," Aaron mumbled, clinking on the empty glass with his nails.

Andrew understood. It wasn't a good sign if Aaron started getting all pre-med on them. He and Nicky exchanged a look, realizing they would need to hide the alcohol really well this time. It was just one of the things Andrew did to protect Kevin from one of his worst enemies: himself.

“Kevin, go out, we need to remove it,” Andrew flicked his finger toward the door.

"I'm not a child and can choose not to drink," Kevin countered, crossing his arms and glaring at Andrew with all the ferocity of a chihuahua facing down a Doberman. Like it would change Andrew’s mind.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, meeting the gaze of the alcoholic-in-denial head-on. 

“I’ll go out and let you handle it,” Kevin said in a defeated tone as he broke his gaze, stomping all the way outside of the room. Maybe not so in denial . 

"Wait outside the apartment," Andrew called after Kevin's retreating back. Kevin stomped even harder all the way outside Abby’s house.  

"Wait with him," Andrew instructed Nicky, who hurried after the grumpy striker.

With a shrug, he and Aaron collected their hidden booze. Sentiment wasn't required, since it wasn't their money anyway. They poured it all straight down the drain.

When he allowed Kevin to come back, Kevin pretended as if he weren’t trying to sniff out where they’d stashed the alcohol. Pathetic, but unsurprisingly, Kevin was more interested in knowing there was booze available if he needed a pick-me-up than actually consuming it.

"It's only until the big day, right? When is your surgery?"  Nicky inquired, his voice light but laced with an underlying concern. He patted Kevin's back, silently offering support.

"In two days," Kevin pretended not to look at their regular alcohol hiding places.

"Oh my god, in two days, " Nicky's focus quickly snapped back to Kevin. "I really need to ask Neil whom he sucked off to get it so fast, You didn't even use insurance, just Josten's magical coupons."

“Gross, Nicky,” Aaron said, clear disgust all over his face, “can you stop your shit?”

Oh, Aaron. If Andrew’s physical threats didn’t stop Nicky from being such a sleazeball, Aaron’s barely concealed homophobia definitely couldn’t. Sometimes, Andrew found himself wondering whether he could have tolerated more of Nicky's playing "family" if Nicky wasn’t throwing so many non-con jokes and spouting lewd remarks at their teammates. It just reminded him too much of his previous “homes”.

Aaron glared across the table at Nicky, who simply rolled his eyes. "Oh, ple... really," Nicky drawled, his voice laced with boredom. "Like you don't ask yourself the same questions."

Kevin plopped down next to them, giving up his secret search for the booze. “Neil is poor. it is quite logical for him to use coupons,” he pointed out, still missing the point. 

Pulling out his ringing phone, Kevin dictated, "Neil won't be on the court tomorrow. I suggest entertaining him with clips of past games instead. Why? Neil overextended himself by challenging Andrew. Yes, he scored once." Then Kevin hung up. Clearly, basic phone-call courtesy wasn't taught in the Nest. Kevin was lucky that Coach was accustomed to even more bizarre shenanigans from the Foxes. But what is Kevin speaking about?

Andrew remembered. Oh, yes, the menace’s little trickery at the end of the practice. He pushed down the image of Josten standing in front of a red goal, tossing Andrew's words back at him with a cocky salute. At times, he truly despised how distracting Josten can be.

Nicky and Aaron ignored Kevin’s interference and started talking about something more pleasant, like guessing how much of Neil's criminal act was real and how much was just for show. Andrew toned their conversation down. They knew even less about Josten than he did, and were unlikely to discover something new that Andrew hadn't already considered.

Kevin, bored with any topic that didn't involve Exy, got up and resumed pacing between the rooms, not searching for that sweet sweet taste of alcohol , until his usual walk time. Then Kevin did another thing that woke up the pre-med in Aaron.

“Kevin! Are you seriously planning to practice after popping a muscle relaxer? Do I need to explain it to you?” Aaron exclaimed the moment he noticed Kevin packing his sports bag. Kevin changed his packing to a slower pace, as if he thought Aaron was a predator with movement-based detection. 

“I know you’re stupid when Exy is involved, but I didn't think you were this much of a cretin." Kevin changed tactics, shoving all his clothes into the bag at lightning speed, maybe hoping to run outside before Aaron could catch him. 

Aaron snatched the bag and flipped it upside down, causing everything to spill onto the floor, socks and jerseys flying in a glorious explosion. "No. More. Exy. For. You. Today." He emphasized each and every word, his tone dripping with authority.

As much as Andrew enjoyed the change of pace, Kevin would still need to go to the court. It was one of his rituals, necessary for him to sleep soundly— one of the behaviors the Nest had beaten into him. Who needs OCD when a cult can instill the same anxiety, free of charge but not of will.

"We'll head to the court, so Kevin can sniff the plexiglass," Andrew intervened, casually kicking a couple of socks under his bed, ensuring Kevin would need to crawl to retrieve them. "Maybe even mark his territory while he's at it."

“No Exy.” Aaron declared, his voice laced with disapproval.

“No Exy.” Andrew promised. Like he would ever miss an opportunity to not play this dreadful game.

“No Exy.” Kevin echoed with the sadness of a child who was denied his favorite toy.

“No Exy,” Nicky said for no apparent reason. “What? I didn’t want to be left out.”

While driving to the court for the not-night practice, Andrew reconsidered the recent ordeal. Every interaction with their enigmatic new teammate , Neil Josten, seemed to spawn more questions than answers. It wasn't just Neil Josten, either. The gremlin somehow managed to pull from Kevin some glaring red flags. Despite them being glued at the hip, Kevin still hid secrets from Andrew, and some of them, Andrew suspected, he wasn’t even aware of. But that would be a topic for another night.

Time to deal with another matter he apparently neglected. 

"Spill!" Andrew commanded the moment they stepped into the court. "The little menace was right; you should have filled me in on what Riko discovered about me. What did he tell you?"

“That the thing …” Kevin started, rubbing his neck nervously while shifting his weight from leg to leg. “Riko didn’t really know anything that incriminating about you. He knew about juvie, sure, and the nine foster homes you went through. Apparently, he even dug up the fact that you had some good families, firefighters, marines, teachers, who eventually couldn't handle you. But that's all public records, mostly things that could be considered regular ‘Fox’ business.” He shrugged, a confused frown creasing his face. "Riko was just... way too confident, I think."

“You meant he was full of piss,” Andrew corrected him. That eased something inside of him. Of course Riko would be pulling Kevin’s leg. First a leg, next was the hand.

Kevin paused for a moment, briefly stopping before continuing in the opposite direction, until he finally spoke up. "Neil knows Japanese. Me and Riko only talked about you in Japanese."

Andrew hummed with interest, waiting for Kevin to continue his hypothesis. "He could be part Japanese, looks can be deceiving," Kevin said as he walked back to him.

Andrew didn't believe that. It was too much of a coincidence. Not to mention that there was a more plausible explanation.

"But I doubt it," Kevin said, striding down the foyer, hands animated with his speech. "He most likely comes from old money. Learning Japanese on the streets isn't exactly common, unlike Spanish or Chinese. Even Russian, French, or Arabic – you can find enough people speaking those if you know where to look. Japanese, though? That's either ingrained from birth or picked up by a rich family wanting to add some prestige to their image."

He paused briefly, letting his words sink in before continuing. "And have you noticed his table manners? They're more Eastern than Western, not to mention flawless. He uses cutlery like a pro, back straight, elbows off the table. Every movement is precise." Kevin glanced at Andrew, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It all paints a pretty clear picture, wouldn't you say?"

Andrew lets Kevin humor him, sometimes playing the role of ‘Watson’ to Kevin's ‘Sherlock’, or more accurately, the ‘Penny’ to Kevin's ‘Inspector Gadget’. A spark of curiosity flickered in Andrew's eyes as he asked, "So you’re saying he may not even be homeless?” His lean frame relaxed slightly, leaning in to hear Kevin's next words.

Kevin shook his head, a knowing glint in his gaze. "He is. You can only fake a certain level of comfort with dirt and grime, let alone eating anything and everything under the sun. Neil's definitely homeless, that much is true, but there's also a sense of refinement about him, a hint of a more privileged past." His lips pursed thoughtfully, and a faint crease formed between his brows as he pondered the mystery further.

Andrew doubted that Kevin could have deduced all of that based solely on language and table manners. But if there was someone in his group who could discern upper-class manners, it was probably Kevin.

Kevin paced the room, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Here's my theory," he announced, stopping abruptly in front of Andrew. "Neil? He's probably some kind of illegitimate son. He was favored by his old man. Explains the fancy education, his manners, and the way he handles himself." He straightened up as he continued walking, his voice building in intensity. "But something happened, maybe inheritance disputes. So he and his mom, on the run from the legitimate family, fearing for their lives. Maybe even the mob's involved, maybe his mom striking some kind of deal for protection."

That didn't sound entirely unchanged. And as much as Andrew enjoyed mysteries, he didn't see any purpose in this seemingly important information. "What does it matter?" As entertaining as the story was, it was utterly useless for Andrew in terms of assessing how dangerous Josten might be.

"If he learned Japanese, it was only after he'd already mastered German and other 'upper-class' languages." Kevin jabbed a finger in the air, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I would have definitely noticed if that little gremlin understood me," Andrew retorted, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"So I thought. Me and Riko even spoke ill of him right to his face, in Japanese." He crossed his arms defensively, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "He still understands Japanese."

Andrew sighed. He knew that Kevin had been raised sheltered, but he couldn't help but admire Tetsuji Moriyama and how he managed to keep the entire concept of an anime convention hidden from Kevin. Only sheer determination, like spite from seeing his culture being butchered to fit Western consumption, could have achieved such a feat. Another jab at Kevin’s theory was that the two people in the team who absolutely had a prestigious childhood, Allison and Kevin, did not, in fact, know German or any other fancy language.

Kevin was already insufferable enough with his Exy-less night, and a little white lie could expedite their return to Abby’s home. So, Andrew chose to pretend he took Kevin seriously.

Andrew made his eyes widen in surprise, mouth agape. “Bastard!" he cursed, his expression blank. Kevin gave him a satisfied smile. After Kevin finished smelling all the plexiglass, the day was finally over.

The next time Andrew saw the gremlin was for Kevin’s operation day. Josten came with a new car, new coupons, and new questionable remarks. No answers though. And Andrew tried to get something more. 

The car they rode was clearly not Josten's. Too many feminine items were scattered around. Yet he had the car key. How did a kid from Arizona know someone in South Coraline to borrow a car from? Did he steal the key and then make a copy before the owner noticed? And the car was too nice not to be regularly used. What was going on?

In the clinic, Andrew followed Josten to get a closer look at the legendary coupons. They looked like prescriptions with scan codes on the end. It looked legitimate . Andrew was perplexed. The receptionist simply took the papers and scanned them, as if it were normal . Andrew never deluded himself about his knowledge on such matters, but he did ask around. Renee, who was raised by a gang; brother dearest, whose family lived for years below the poverty line. He even bothered to ask Renee to ask Dan about her trailer trash childhood. He bothered to ask Abby, who should know about these things. No one had ever heard of healthcare coupons for the homeless, yet here they were, getting Kevin a surgery.

Did Josten blackmail someone? Was the clinic bribed? Perhaps his supposed mob mom pulled some strings, but then why would the gremlin use it for Kevin?

Andrew let Josten deal with the bureaucracy as he returned to his family, letting his nerves cool off.

Meanwhile, Kevin's nerves got the best of him, causing him to ask stupid questions and receive equally stupid answers. He couldn't hold still, pacing back and forth between Andrew and Josten like a caged animal. Every mutter under his breath was a morbid litany of ways the surgery could go wrong, each scenario more horrifying than the next.

"Relax. It's like 'Operation,' but even easier," Aaron snapped, elaborating when he saw Kevin's blank expression. "You know, that well-known children's game." They were already accustomed to Kevin's lack of knowledge about normal board games. “They'll make an incision in your forearm, extract the bone fragment, and stitch you up. You won't even need full anesthesia, just a local one."

"What if they mix up the hands?" Kevin blurted out, his voice laced with worry.

Aaron sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "They follow strict protocols, Kevin. The hand for surgery is always clearly marked beforehand to avoid any confusion."

At Least Aaron was good for something.

“What if they do the slice wrong multiple times? Like how nurses sometimes miss the vein when they draw blood?"

"These are surgeons, Kevin, not nurses," Aaron explained patiently. "They're highly trained professionals. It's much more difficult to miss a major bone like your hand compared to a tiny vein."

When Josten returned, Kevin launched at him like a child into his blanky, placing his hands on Josten’s shoulders and squeezing them repeatedly. The gremlin remained unfazed and didn’t acknowledge it. It strangely bugged Andrew.

Kevin’s mood only soured further after the successful operation and the knowledge that he was going to face another Exy-less two weeks. Andrew let Aaron handle Kevin's medication again, recognizing that Aaron was currently the best person for the job. He still didn't like it.

For the next few weeks, Andrew wasn't surprised when practices reverted to Kevin's yelling matches. Only his promise kept him from shutting Kevin's mouth permanently.

Luckily for Kevin, Josten pulled another one of his tricks, solidifying the fact that he knew how Kevin's inner workings operated. The little comedian convinced them all to go all Italian strike on Kevin’s ass. 

Andrew had to acknowledge that with all the antics Josten was pulling out of his hat, living with Kevin became easier. Instead of Kevin spiraling into paranoia that Riko was lurking in every dark corner, Kevin was either busy cussing out Neil Josten or praising him to the skies. There was nothing in between. Kevin didn’t even mention returning to the Nest in the past month.

But as much as Josten could be fun when you ignore all the red flags , Andrew had a job to do.

It was time for another Minyard freaky-Friday. Andrew needed to shake some answers from Neil Josten, and it was, unfortunately , too early to do it with force, or drugs. Josten seemed to be a little more lenient toward dear Aaron, perhaps because the clone rarely bothered to interact with him. It did push down the opportunities for Aaron to accidentally on purpose offend the gremlin.

Aaron never really liked dressing up like Andrew. Maybe it was the memory of the first time they did it that killed his adventurous spirit . But Aaron should have been grateful—Andrew's style definitely upgraded Aaron's look. Usually, the doppelgänger seemed like he just threw on the first wrinkled, non-stinky outfit he found in his closet. Aaron complained, but he always complied.

Let's see how skilled Josten is at playing the 'guess the twin' game.

The answer, surprisingly, was very good. Andrew tried being nice, engaging in small talk, parroting some of Aaron's trivial medicine facts, and even attempting to mimic Aaron fully. But Josten always knew who was who.

Now, Aaron liked dressing like him, apparently finding it hilarious how much Andrew failed at deceiving their new striker. And considering that Andrew had to skip a dose for each attempt, his mood soured more and more. What really drove the final nail into the coffin was that menace didn't even realize what Andrew was doing. The gremlin just rolled with the punches; even when Andrew insisted that he was Aaron, Josten just brushed it off with a "Haha, very funny, so..." and continued spewing some Exy nonsense. 

Josten seemed more annoyed with Andrew's overly nice demeanor, to the point where Andrew felt compelled to mess with at least one of Josten's kneecaps. Perhaps later. The pest was still quick on his feet.

Andrew felt like he was missing something. He even sent his little gang to question Josten about how he distinguished between the twins. The little comedian gave each of them a different answer:

To Kevin, he explained, "They're twins, but they're not identical. One of them despises your Exy obsession, while the other couldn't care less," lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

To Nicky, he remarked, "Obviously, by scent. Andrew smells like a candy factory's smoking room, whereas Aaron smells like a coffee addict with an overdose of deodorant in a library meeting," rolling his eyes.

Interestingly, to Aaron, he sighed, "Because only one of you is capable of smiling like he isn't constantly pooping his pants.”  Aaron didn’t supply which twin Josten thought had full control of his bowels, but Andrew could easily guess. 

After a week Andrew chose to give up this particular method. Josten was just too stupid.

Their new addition to the team, continued to train Kevin into becoming a decent coach assistant.

Josten’s leadership varied between playing dead with Aaron and Nicky to Kevin's dismay, or engaging in insult battles with him. One time, at Nicky's insistence, he showcased his performance skills, managing to pickpocket from poor Kevin Andrew's medication, Kevin's phone, and wristwatch, then juggled them for Nicky and Aaron's amusement as he maintained it all while evading Kevin's angry pursuit. Another day, he surprised them by convincing Kevin to have a pool day. Considering Josten's usual aversion to revealing the little gifts dear mommy and daddy left on his body, Andrew was quite surprised.

"Oh," Andrew replied to Kevin when he asked for his opinion about the newcomer’s current behavior, as they made their way to Abby’s place for pool-preparations. "Oh, he might actually turn out to be interesting. For a little while, at least. But I doubt the entertainment will last. It never does."

"But he is interesting enough for you to play Exy," Kevin, ever the optimist on the matter, remarked. Always pushing the Exy agenda. Andrew may not believe that Kevin would fulfill his part of the deal, but unlike Aaron's case, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Kevin’s failure would be just his own stupidity and inability to understand that Andrew doesn't care enough about Exy, not even enough to hate it. It's just slightly less boring than living.  

But, Andrew could respect the little that Kevin did manage to achieve between them.

“Who cares about the Exy part?” Nicky piped in, “Neil can juggle, do somersaults, probably more acrobatic flexible stuff, and he told me he also knows how to do sword swallowing. You know what this means?" Andrew saw Nicky wiggling his eyebrows in the car mirror and knew he wouldn't like the answer. "He has no gag reflex," Nicky finished the sentence, only to be jabbed by Aaron. Good, if Aaron didn't do it, Andrew would have. Sometimes he blamed Nicky’s remarks for how distracting he found their 'new problem'.

In the guest room while everyone searched for their own swimwear, Andrew was reminded again about Kevin’s bad habit.

When Kevin ran away from the Nest, he only had time to grab his partially unpacked suitcase from the Christmas banquet. This resulted in him having a strange combination of clothes until Wymack bought him more. Kevin had with him three types of suits but no extra underwear, four black shirts, only one pair of pants, and the official Ravens swim-bikini.

Though Kevin had the money to buy himself normal swimwear, he insisted that he only wanted this abomination. He and Aaron exchange a tired look, while Nicky giggled. No amount of shaming worked on Kevin, the bastard was too full of himself to believe that not everyone wanted to see him in this small piece of fabric someone accidentally called a swimsuit. Most of Kevin’s outfits from Evermore were tight or revealing on Kevin’s frame, but now Andrew wasn't so sure if it was only Kevin's preference as before.

With the recent new information Kevin had revealed about the Nest, Andrew had his suspicions that someone in there had a little too much fun . Andrew wasn't sure if the over-sexualization was only directed at Kevin, or if someone enjoyed seeing boys in skimpy clothing running around.

Andrew added it to his list of things to take care of later. The growing list of issues and problems to take care of later. They went out to wait near the pool. Andrew was curious to see how the gremlin would get them in.

In true Josten fashion, their resident delinquent decided to trespass into the place. Ever the resourceful one, he swiped an entry card, granting them access to the Olympic-sized pool. Josten, of course, swore up and down that he obtained it legally. Andrew had his doubts.

Andrew had zero plans to get himself wet. Instead he hoped to get more time to observe the pest, and maybe rethink more about Kevin’s strange behavior. Organize in his head all the questions he had with their latest addition.  

Then his thoughts came to a halt, because Josten was wearing a wetsuit. Yes, it still covered most of his body, but it didn’t cover the shape of his body. Andrew sighed inwardly as Kevin also came into his line of view. God, he is vain.

As routine, the idiots had an insults fight, this time about who was wearing the more ridiculous swimsuit. And Andrew had to side with Josten on this one. Maybe Andrew should tear up Kevin’s bikini at the next opportunity he got. Josten did a flexible stand on one leg to prove something. Maybe Andrew should tear the wetsuit too . Truthfully, he probably should rip up all seven of Josten’s outfits.

Then Nicky intervened in the fight, before Kevin could lose even more of his dignity, "Guys, guys, as much as I would like to watch..." he said while side-eyeing him and Aaron. Nicky knew their opinion about his little jokes, but Andrew allowed it for now. Nicky relaxed and continued, "but we came here to have fun."

“Oh, don’t let us distract you from your … lover's quarrel ,” Andrew taunted. Anger was great at making people admit more than what they planned, but once again, no luck. Josten still had his resting bitch face. It was difficult to gauge when he would take offense at remarks and when he would brush them off. Andrew settled into his spot in the shade, with a clear view of the entire pool. “We all already tried to discourage Kevin from his little stripper outfit.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nicky mumbled. Aaron put him in his place with an elbow to the ribs.

Kevin complained, Josten retorted, and Nicky gleefully chimed in, but Andrew waved them off with a dismissive flick of his finger.  “Go swim with the fishes. I crave a little peace and quiet." He remarked, slipping on sunglasses so others wouldn't notice that he was watching over them. He didn't have the patience to deal with either Kevin or Aaron complaining that he treated them like children.

The pool activities themselves were boring. Nicky and Aaron mostly played in the water, splashing and dunking each other with practiced ease. Meanwhile, the gremlin and Kevin stuck to the shallow end, diligently repeating exercises likely meant for Kevin's hand injury. In these moments, Josten didn't seem quite as menacing as Andrew's gut instinct kept warning him. In fact, the little pest displayed surprising attentiveness to Kevin's needs, something that gnawed at Andrew's already suspicious mind. Josten was simply too good to Kevin , a fact that fueled Andrew's growing unease. Something wasn’t adding up.

Josten plopped down next to Andrew, leaving Kevin to float like a sea-star. The water made the wetsuit cling even more to his frame, and Andrew kept his eyes on the gremlin’s face. Josten glanced at Andrew’s black bands while pulling back his messy hair, giving Andrew a clear view of his eyes. "Those will leave some interesting tan lines," he remarked casually. 

Andrew tucked two fingers into the armband and slid free one of his blades. A clear message to the pest to not touch him. Neil Josten was unfazed, and just asked, “Is that your slow attempt at suicide or do you actually have sheaths built into it? You know you shouldn’t expose it to chlorine?”

"Yes," Andrew bluffed, mentally adding the pest's uncanny knowledge to the ever-growing list of suspicious things the menace knew.

Josten kept asking. “How many knives do you carry?”

Andrew's response was short. "Enough."

But the gremlin didn’t get the memo, his gaze still on Andrew’s armbands. "Are you sure? You have tiny arms. It's a maximum of two knives per hand. Why not switch to thigh straps? You have relatively massive thighs for your size; you could probably fit maybe four per leg."

Josten's casual guess hit the mark perfectly. Andrew gritted his teeth and glared, the pest was observant. Andrew didn’t like to be observed. He retrieved the knife again, a desperate hope flickering that Josten would finally stop staring. He pointed the tip to Josten's throat to dig the point across.

"You would also be less likely to accidentally lose one with the straps. What would happen if a referee caught you with a weapon on the court?" Josten continued babbling, not bothered by the threat, and Andrew noticed something strange in his eyes: a faint blue circle around his pupils. "I think that's a little more serious than a red card. You'd probably get arrested, and they might even suspend our entire team until they think they can trust us again. Then what?"

"I'd grieve forever," Andrew deadpanned. He had finally gotten one answer from Josten, but unfortunately, it was a question he didn't even know he needed to ask: what is his eye color? And too bad it added a new question: why hide it?

The gremlin obviously had terrible clothing advice, but who would be surprised with how the pest usually dressed himself? Andrew glared into Josten’s eyes and the new mystery they opened.  “Your styling tips are uninteresting and would get you nowhere. Your loose ends aren't adding up.”

"I'm not a math problem," Josten replied, pushing the knife tip away from him. Annoying bastard. 

Andrew promised, “But I'll still solve you.” Josten’s eyes were just another mystery to the pile. The gremlin looked amused.

As always, Josten had a way of being insufferable by just tapping two fingers on his temple as saying ‘see you later’ . The pest left him to his devices and rejoined Kevin in the water.

The rest of the pool day was boring and unremarkable.

Kevin became significantly more tolerable when he was allowed to join in the training. He also returned to night practice, slowly working on his left hand, still delusionally hoping that Andrew would actually put effort into the game. Still becoming enraged when Andrew denied him, but gave Josten the satisfaction that he concealed from Kevin.

But what could Andrew say? He was just having a little fun. Kevin became more entertaining when he had to face no challenges. Josten, on the other hand, had a reaction when his shots were denied; the gremlin's blank face finally showed some emotions. And Andrew lived to annoy.

However, now with both Kevin and Josten on the court, something became quite clear. Josten really knew Kevin. 

Kevin excused it by the two weeks they trained together last year. Which was complete bullshit.

Andrew didn't care how supposedly effective Raven's methods were. Josten's uncanny ability to read Kevin like a book pointed to something more sinister than talent. The more Andrew watched, the more apparent was the way the gremlin dissected Kevin's every move, anticipating them with inhuman precision, which suggested an unhealthy fixation rather than mere skill.

This was an obsession.

Even if he was putting Josten’s suspicious acts aside, Kevin's own behavior raised more questions. While Andrew didn't expect Kevin to spill his entire life story, he did expect him to divulge anything that could affect their deal. This included Kevin's strange infatuation with Josten. Even considering his Exy-cult upbringing and recent arrival at the Foxes, Kevin had never been so insufferably controlling as he was towards Josten.

Yes, Kevin cared about everything Exy, but he never bothered with anyone else's hygiene, sleep schedule, clothes, or general appearance. Kevin may bitch to Andrew about his sugar intake, but he never made him food and tried to coax him into eating it. Not to him, not to Aaron or Nicky, just with Josten.

They were both hiding something, but at least one of them owed him a truth.

Andrew waited until it was just him and Kevin in their room. Aaron and Nicky were already fast asleep in the other room.

"One might wonder how a scaredy-cat like Josten lets you maneuver him like a child," Andrew remarked as he removed the window screen. Judging by Kevin's expression, he figured he would need a smoke to endure this conversation. Josten seemed quite averse to casual touch from others. Except for Kevin, of course. Everyone else still got the side-eye and a healthy dose of Josten's signature disdain. 

Andrew lit the cigarette, blowing the smoke. What Abby pretends not to know won’t be used as ammo for future complaints. He took another long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around his head.

"It wasn't always like this," Kevin sighed, gazing out the window, his voice barely a whisper.  Not even reprimanding Andrew about his smoking habits. Bad sign. Most likely involves a memory of Riko. 

Andrew strained to hear Kevin's words as he mumbled, “But after Riko made his … bodyguard … drive the point, Neil … let it happen, and … because Neil obviously preferred me over Riko. I tried to take over all the touching parts, so it would look like he became more obedient.”

Josten didn’t let Kevin touch him by his own free will.

Suddenly Andrew’s ears were filled with other noises, drawing Kevin’s whispering.

                                                         "You didn’t resist , it must mean you wanted this.”  

                                                          “Be obedient. ”  

“It would have hurt less, if you listen and stay quiet. ” 

                                               "Just be a good boy and it all ends soon.” 

                                                           “ Don’t resist. ” 

                                                           “ Shhh , your mouth says no, but that body…” 

                                                          “ Be quite AJ, you don’t want mom to wake up.” 

                                    “You’re such a good boy , 

                                                                   so quiet,  

                                                                     and obedient for me.”

Please. Please . Please .

Kevin shouted, snapping Andrew out of his trance. Andrew gazed down at his clenched fists, the mix of anger and shame still churning in his gut. He opened the fist that held the hot cigarette, letting it fall to the floor. The burning pain broke him away from the lingering memories.

"Go, I don't want to see you today," he instructed Kevin before retreating into the bathroom. He hovered near the sink, letting out a long breath. A momentary desire to cut something, maybe himself, flickered in his mind. Andrew ignored it. He had moved past using self-harm as a method of control. 

He is better than that. 

And he won’t let it consume him again. 

He was in control now . 

Andrew pressed hard on his burn, letting the sting ground him.

What if I am wrong about Kevin?   Worry spiraled in his mind. I know how easy it is to make it all look consensual

No, Andrew stopped this line of thought. He vouched for Kevin. Kevin may be ignorant, he may be crass, he may be overbearing, but he is never malicious. 

Clearly, he was not a predator. Andrew had witnessed countless times when Josten stood his ground and said 'no' to Kevin. Even when Kevin had raged, argued, and threw a tantrum, Josten never acted like Kevin's disappointment had any dire consequences for him.

Josten deemed Kevin as safe, and Andrew also didn’t have any reason to doubt Kevin in that matter. Andrew let his internal panic wash over him and go.

Kevin did the best he could given the situation, Andrew continued to remind himself, the words a mantra against a rising tide of doubt. He knew too well the sting of limited options, the bitter choice between bad and worse . Maybe, with what he knew about Riko, Kevin actually did Josten a favor. But the thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

Andrew still had to delve deeper into this issue; Kevin had only explained half of the problem.

Andrew checked himself, his anger had subsided, leaving him tired but not drained. His mind was clear, the withdrawal symptoms still at bay. Yes, he could handle another talk with Kevin.

Andrew stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room, where he expected Kevin to retreat to. Whatever it was - cowardice or a misplaced faith in Andrew's restraint - Kevin rarely dared to stray from Andrew's shadow. And there he was, the fool, watching old Exy games on mute.

“You're not in the Nest anymore, Kevin. Why do you still act like a toddler clinging to its comfort object around Josten?” Andrew jerked his head towards their room, sensing that the rest of the explanation would require a cigarette to numb the sting of what was to come.

Kevin gave him a deer-caught-in-a-headlight look but still followed him inside. They didn't acknowledge Andrew's previous outburst. Both used to ignoring the unspoken.

Andrew stalked back to the window, his hand automatically reaching for the pack, lighting a cigarette as if to shield himself from the conversation, and what he may discover. He observed as Kevin paced around the room, his gaze darting between scuffed floorboards, tracing invisible patterns with his eyes, lost in a world of anxieties.

“He is mine.” Kevin said like it was the obvious answer. “Not mine the same way you are mine, but in a different way.” Falling again into deep thought. 

For a fleeting moment, Andrew was swept back to the memory of a tall pretty boy that promised him he was worth more than what the world told him. But Kevin’s promises were upheld by the eyes of the beholder, and the beholder was a fool that only saw merit by Exy standards.  An idiot that bet all his eggs on one basket and then let Andrew run with it, fully believing that not one of them would crack before the end of their road. That was the past. Andrew needed more .

“Really, what's your deal with Josten?” Andrew probed, letting out the smoke. His voice snapped Kevin out of whatever trance he had fallen into.

"It's just..." Kevin hesitated, shifting his gaze to the window. "There was a lot of terrible stuff in the Nest, but sometimes I miss the good parts."

Andrew's cigarette flared with each impatient drag, waiting for Kevin to elaborate. Kevin froze, face crumpled in anguish. A shaky sigh escaped him, pleading, before he shot Andrew a look that dared him to judge. Kevin spun on his heel, pacing the room like a caged animal, before snapping to a halt by the opposite window, back rigid, jaw set so hard it seemed his head might crack. 

The night view gave Kevin the needed push to start speaking. "The feeling," he choked out, his voice cracking like ice, "of never being truly alone, like you're woven into the fabric of something bigger, stronger than yourself. No borders, no limits, just us, one pulse, one shared breath. We weren't individuals, we were a tapestry, threads so intertwined you couldn't tell where one ended and another began. We were a team and we were one. That's what I miss, that soul-deep connection, unbreakable, unshakeable, forever. Ravens. That’s the part I miss.” 

Andrew already voiced a lot of his disagreement to what Kevin considered the "good" parts of living in a cult. This one was no different. Because living in each other's pockets struck Andrew as an awful experience. He could feel like stabbing someone if he didn't have his alone time. The co-dependence felt to him more like just another method of control, rather than the liberation Kevin tried to make it sound like.

“And Josten gave you that?” 

"It's not even a fraction of what I had in the Nest," Kevin mumbled, his voice raspy with something between longing and defiance. “But it’s at least something. And he experienced it. Yes, Neil is barely a Raven. But I did have a connection with him, even if it's just a tiny bit of the real deal," Kevin's voice grew quieter as he continued. His gaze remained fixed on the cityscape, shoulders rigid, muscles clenching in anticipation of Andrew's rebuke.

It's not as if he genuinely feared being replaced.

Andrew hummed in response. Some truths worsen with words. 

They remained in silence until Andrew completed the last puff of his cigarette.

Kevin became better. Aaron and Nicky were tolerable, and Josten only made him want to pop out only one of his knee caps. By all standards it was a good day for Andrew. It was time for his and Bee’s summer vacation meet-up.

Andrew couldn’t wait to finally unload all his complaints about their new wonder boy.

He trusted her as far as anyone could be believed; she didn’t promise that she could fix him, like some of his previous shrinks had, nor did she proclaim that he was a lost cause because the damage ran too deep. They had their rough patches in the start.

When he was still testing Bee as a therapist, he asked her if the cops and the judge would have diagnosed his defense of Nicky as unreasonable aggression if Nicky had been white and straight, and if his attackers hadn't been framed as ‘ good boys who strayed from the right path. ’

Bee surprised him by not sugar-coating it, or pretending that the cops aren't a biased group. "No," she said calmly, not even batting an eye. "Your personal history – being in juvenile detention, living in poverty, and being found in a nightclub while underage – were more likely to influence their decision than your cousin's sexual orientation."

Andrew hummed. Sounds reasonable.

Months crawled by before Andrew could confide even a single truth in her.  Even longer for him to truly listen to her advice.  Opening up meant risking being disappointed again, but the more they met, the more he unveiled his real thoughts instead of just saying something for shock value and gauging her responses to see if she could handle it.

They finally reached the point where therapy started to feel more productive than the waste of time his previous therapists made him believe it was.

Bee was the one to tell him he most likely had Persistent Depressive Disorder (PDD). Not that someone feeling empty inside would care what exact label was put on them. She also had a stack full of complaints about his treatment, his trial, and how his specific medication had been chosen.

Bee's words were that they would have over-medicated him if he actually had the thing they thought he had, which was Persistent ODD. The prescribed court-mandated pills they forced on him were some new questionable kind of stimulant that Bee personally thought shouldn't have passed FDA approval, considering the USP was undecided on the matter. But its creation was hella cheap, so the pill was approved. Lovely.

Andrew swung open Bee’s office door with a bang. As always, Bee didn’t flinch. His favorite cup of cocoa awaited him near his favorite couch. Hmm, he had become too predictable.

“Andrew.” Bee's soft voice greeted, pulling him out of his internal rant about the pest. She was smiling at him in a way that didn't agitate him anymore.

“Bee.” Andrew slouched on the couch, taking a big sip from the cocoa. Nice, this is very nice.

“I heard you are spending the summer with a new teammate. How is he?” Bee asked. As always, right to the throat. Andrew disliked small talk used as a roundabout way to inquire about something. He and Bee had established that it was better for her to ask him directly, even if he gave a firm refusal, rather than him feeling manipulated into saying something he wasn't ready to. Their small talks had other purposes.   

“A problem that I would need to do something about.” Andrew felt quite determined about the matter. How one managed to pack so many secrets into such a small boy. Andrew was curious.

“Would you like to elaborate?” Bee asked, sipping her tea. Never a demand, always a suggestion. Andrew had long lost the need to be un-cooperative just for the sake of it.

“He is a real ‘gremlin’,” Andrew continued, “He's somehow convinced everyone he's just this small, adorable, mischievous thing. And they all eat it up.” He sighed. Kevin was all over him, and so was Nicky but for a completely different reason. Dear Captain and her small troops had adopted Josten as their new pet project – a stray to be "civilized." Even the assholy duo, Seth and Aaron, seemed to have developed a soft spot for the parasite. It was beyond Andrew how anyone could find Josten's constant shenanigans "cute."

“Are you also included in the everyone?” Bee probed.

Andrew scoffed. That was Bee, like a predator, sniffing out her prey. She sniffed out any positive word he said about anyone, even if they were obviously sarcastic.

He would usually deny it, but upon reflection, maybe Josten had found a way to get past his defenses. There was something truly uncanny in the gremlin's ability to probe at others’ boundaries and slowly worm his way in. Andrew still found Josten dangerous, but did he find him dangerous as he really was, or had Josten managed to trick him into thinking he was more harmless than what he was?

"He is likable," Andrew admitted with an air of annoyance. He was past deflecting the truth in therapy. He knew the potential of therapy lay in honesty, even if it was like pulling out a rotten tooth – painful, unpleasant, and requiring follow-up. But then, when all was said and done, the constant numbness would finally start to clear. 

He thought more about what he should say. Bee was technically obligated to report any confirmed crimes she heard, but like the rest of the Foxes crew, she played by the letter of the law, not the spirit. Andrew was sure she likely guessed that Tilda Minyard's death was not an accident, but as long as Andrew didn't outright admit it, she didn't probe more than necessary for his own benefit. Andrew was still quite surprised by how flexible the Foxes' management was, and the things Wymack let slide under the radar.

“But,” Andrew unloaded his grievances before Bee could suggest befriending the pest, “he is also a serial petty criminal, a pathological liar, and a bit too chummy with Kevin—obsessively so. There is just something really screwed up in his head, something really, really wrong with him.”

And it says something if Andrew is the one to point it out.

"You think he came here for reasons other than education or Exy?" Bee asked carefully, treading the fine line of hinting but not outright acknowledging the 'organized crime' elephant in the room. In one of their first meetings, she had shared her background and experience with him. Let's just say that gangs, human trafficking, and multi-layered domestic violence weren't new to her. Compared to her previous workplace, the Foxes felt like a field trip. Kevin’s case was actually closer to her usual clientele. It would be great if the fool would be ready to try therapy.

"A bit odd that he didn’t find a place to play in the dozens of states he had to cross to get here," Andrew pointed out. Unlike some of them, Josten wasn’t particularly difficult. He had great grades, a sociable enough personality, and no official criminal records. There wasn’t any reason to choose the Foxes; plenty of charity organizations could have helped him through college. But he came here , and he knows Kevin.

“Wymack had discussed Neil Josten’s reasons with him and deemed them good.” Bee threw him a bone, likely hoping Coach's approval would ease Andrew's worries. Wrong. Andrew trusted Coach on other matters, but Wymack had a soft spot for the pitiful, and Josten clearly knew how to play that game.

“How about you continue to watch over his actions more; he does have some history with Kevin,” Bee suggested. She smartly avoided telling him to befriend the pest, instead paving the way to suggest it later. Andrew hated how she managed to make her intentions clear without pushing him to outright refuse. Clever, clever, Bee.

Andrew released a long breath in a sigh of contentment. Ah, the magical two weeks that somehow made Josten and Kevin apparently BFFs for life. Andrew had known people for longer than he wouldn’t even bother to consider acquaintances. 

Bee read his expression and continued, "If you need more assurance, we can wait until my consultation with him." Not that Bee would tell him anything from her hypothesis about Josten. But her not referring Josten to another place or placing restrictions on him would give Andrew a sense of how dangerous he was by her standards. 

Yet, like Wymack, Bee was too lenient with who should be allowed on the team. However, both her and Wymack's opinions suggested that Josten wasn’t a catastrophic level threat, perhaps just a spy and not an executioner. Andrew would need to personally prod the gremlin more and see how many secrets could spill from his mouth.

“I would consider this” was Andrew’s final say on the matter. The remainder of the session focused on insignificant matters and small talk about Bee's plants.

As always, Andrew detested how he felt after his sessions with Bee. He despised therapy. And the thing he hated the most about it and the good coping mechanisms it enforced? That they worked .

He hated drinking his stupid extra-sugar-and-milk-cocoa during therapy, talking with Bee about stupid stuff, or bitch about minor inconveniences, only to realize that even this kind of stupid venting made him feel lighter. Hated how it helped him cope with himself once he was able to externalize it.

He hated training , working out, and sweating, only to realize that it helped him work out his aggression. Hated making plans with Renee and returning more relaxed.

He hated how eating until he was full made him less anxious and more tolerant of the stupidity of the world. Hated following Bee’s stupid, stupid suggestions and discovering forgiveness, self-understanding, kindness to himself—all felt loathsome .

He resented the deep breaths, the grounding exercises, the unwelcome clarity they brought. He resented seeing how far he'd come, how much he'd already carried.

It was horrible, horrible , horrible . And he loathed it. But he was still going to do it.

Andrew blamed Bee.

When he returned to Abby’s, Kevin was already in bed pretending to be asleep. Andrew let him. Just because Andrew had a good day didn’t mean that everyone else did too. Sometimes trauma was a bitch, and sometimes you needed to let sleeping dogs lie. Andrew watched over Kevin until he really fell asleep.

Kevin didn’t become better. He instead descended back to how he was at the beginning of their partnership. He continued his charade during practices, fooling only Josten, who didn't live with them. Speaking of Josten, this one had suddenly become a very busy person, leaving right after training finished. It seemed even the gremlin’s talent for distracting Kevin couldn't keep Kevin's demons at bay.

He should have expected it; it was too good for Kevin in the last two months. Andrew remembered how it was when Kevin had just joined.

Andrew might have been a firm believer in the philosophy of 'help only after being directly asked for it,' but even he needed to abandon his stance on the matter after meeting Day. Most people had some level of self-preservation, but not their dear Kevin ‘I Was Raised To Exy And Nothing Else’ Day. When Kevin discovered the wonders of alcohol, skipping the 'check how much to drink before dropping dead' phase, he imbibed more than he could handle. Andrew and Womack had to discreetly—or perhaps secretly—drive him to the hospital to have his stomach pumped due to alcohol poisoning.

So now, Andrew keeps a vigilant eye to ensure that Kevin never has access to more alcohol than could poison a man of his size. He and his family, when they want to hide the extra liquor from Kevin's greedy liver, resort to speaking German.

Andrew had to use German for more things, like hiding food Kevin’s disapproved of, which also caused him to have major panic attacks when found in the fridge. More things to thank Tetsuji Moriyama for. Kevin also had anxiety attacks when random chores weren’t done correctly by his standard.

As much as Andrew wished to just ignore Kevin’s numerous triggers, he still made a promise. If keeping this promise meant parenting Kevin like a 'terrible-twos toddler’, so be it . It wasn't like he lacked promises that required him to treat a fully-functioning adult as a child.

And lately Andrew again needed to nurse Kevin back to his normal full-of-shit arrogant self. Kevin’s anxiety turned him into a mess, one that could sometimes perform Exy tricks. Kevin would become bitchy, which was tolerable, but he would also become sick with stomachache, lack of appetite, and a need to turn to alcohol. A very bad combination. They once again hid all drinks from him.

Andrew held Kevin's hair away as Kevin emptied his stomach into the toilet. Unlike many other instances, this time, it wasn't due to alcohol poisoning, which somehow made it even worse. Something was bothering Kevin, but Andrew didn’t want to pry too much.

Andrew had a whole skeleton to pick with Tetsuji Moriyama and the Ravens, but if he had to pick only one bone it would be their tendency to subject their players to an eating disorder akin to bulimia.

When Kevin informed him about the strict, almost military-level meticulous diet in the Nest, Andrew assured him that no one would take food out of his hands, and Kevin could eat as he wished, when he wished. It was very naive of him; cult mentality was rarely easily resolved.

Too much “wrong” food, and Kevin’s stomach rebelled, expelling the offending food in a violent geyser. Dinner was served late or early? A guaranteed ticket to puke town. A single bite past the invisible limit, and down the drain it went. Kevin’s body was programmed by the Nest's twisted rules even past his escape. 

Andrew didn't delude himself into thinking that there was a magic solution. That having unlimited access to real food would make Kevin's eating problem suddenly disappear.

From personal experience, Andrew knew that he didn't possess the right tools to guide Kevin to healthier food consumption. Only a professional therapist could do that, and therapy only works when you choose to help yourself. Kevin wasn't even close to that stage. Too prideful to acknowledge he would need more than Andrew for this. 

Andrew could only wait, and keep Kevin from choking on his own vomit.

Kevin sighed heavily, resting his head on the cold porcelain. When he looked up with teary eyes, a tap on the door drew their attention. It was Nicky with a water bottle. Andrew took it, opened the cap, and assisted Kevin in drinking it. A routine.

Nicky's gaze dropped, offering a quiet, "Sorry the veggie tacos didn't quite work out." Always so gullible. Nicky, too, was in no way equipped to deal with Kevin’s “dietary restriction”, but that didn't stop him from apologizing. Andrew understood ; Nicky was accustomed to a life where he was expected to apologize, even if he wasn't at fault, or understood why.  

He could also point out again that Kevin has two semi-functional hands and could cook for himself. The Foxes' den wasn't equipped with personal chefs like the Nest, and considering how demanding Kevin was, it would be wise for him to learn this particular skill set. Nicky didn’t need to run himself ragged trying to please their "royalty."  But , he kept it for later, when Kevin would be better.

“It’s ok,” Kevin said, draining the bottle in one go. “I like them, maybe less oil next time.”

Any less oil, and the roasted vegetables would turn into coal, and perhaps then they could finally be considered calorie-free for Kevin’s macronutrients diet.

Andrew rolled his eyes at Kevin with a loud spectacle, “Maybe Nicky should prepare you a slow-cooked Hydration with a sparkle of frozen Aqua on top as a breakfast aligned with your calorie intake?”

Nicky shot him a confused stare, but Kevin shot another one of those ridiculous glares at him, as if he believed they held any significance to Andrew. As if he genuinely believed that Andrew cared. 

Newsflash: He didn't.

Andrew helped Kevin back to bed, convincing him to sleep off his stomach pain. After a moment's thought, Andrew had Nicky prepare a bowl of oatmeal and place it on Kevin’s nightstand for when he woke up.

Kevin was regressing back into the person he was before, the fool Andrew had to threaten with the breakage of his own fingers to settle down. Andrew rechecked Kevin’s phone to see if maybe Riko managed to contact him with threats. There were no suspicious ‘incoming calls,’ and the only questionable ‘outgoing call’ was to one (or three ) Jean Moreau for less than a minute.

Andrew chose to wait a bit longer before he attempted to shake the answer out of Kevin’s cowardly lips.

The next three days didn't bring any improvement for Kevin. Another symptom of his high anxiety was the ugly resurgence of his paranoia. 

"Why is there still maintenance work? They've already finished repainting," Kevin complained after the second night in a row that they saw a Palmetto maintenance worker around the Foxhole. "This isn’t even the right shade of orange, it's a bit too light," he pointed at the paint bucket the painter carried for her work. It looked the same color to Andrew’s untrained eyes.

“They're probably trying to make it look all clean and shiny for our new season. You know how nothing stays clean for long. Only the best for our rising stars. ” Andrew reassured him. He really just wanted to go to sleep. Kevin had become too much lately with complaints.

Kevin's eyes narrowed further, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "But Andrew... the tone! It's distinctly lighter! The moment I lay eyes on the incorrectly colored patch job, I would no longer be able to unsee it.”

Oh, poor, poor Kevin and his high expectations.

Andrew ignored him. What’s the worst that could happen? Except Kevin pointing at some random place on the court and complaining that it was a completely different color than the rest of the wall. 

On the fifth night they saw the same ugly maintenance van in the row, they also saw the painter from close up. She would usually just drive off when they started their training or drive in as they left. The painter was focused on her work, pulling out painting tools and colored buckets from the van’s storage area. She was in full painter gear, including a mask, long colored clothes, and gloves, looking like she meant business. She gave them a small nod as they approached their own car next to her.

Andrew nudged Kevin, a silent question in his raised eyebrows. ‘See, nothing out of the ordinary’. Kevin just rolled his eyes at him and followed.

The painter gave Kevin a long look; the bastard had this effect on women. They usually just stared at him until he disappeared from their view. Andrew rolled his eyes. Who was he to deny a lady the right to gawk at the magnificent Kevin Day and embarrass herself by being disappointed with his complete indifference? The fool doesn't respond to anything less subtle than a direct invitation to sex. Andrew has more than a few mortifying memories on the matter.

Andrew opened the car and started the engine, catching a glimpse of the painter sidling up to Kevin through the rearview mirror. Knew it, another Kevin groupie. Andrew hoped it was just an autograph request and not a full-blown life story. Kevin always felt obligated to go into his public personality on unsuspecting civilians. 

Then she pulled a sack and engulfed Kevin's head. With a practiced shove, she bundled him into the trunk of her van and slammed it shut. Adrenaline surged through Andrew. What the hell, he screamed silently. But instincts betrayed him. By the time he bolted out of his car, the painter was already in the driver's seat. She peeled out of the parking spot with the precision of a seasoned racer, leaving Andrew behind. Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, Andrew leaped back into his own car, the chase now on.

Kevin was right. I should have listened. Kevin. Was. Fucking. Right.

Andrew slammed his fist on the steering wheel, forcing himself to focus. Kevin needed him now. Kevin was in danger . He needed to keep his promise . Racing through the streets, Andrew couldn't fathom how the beat-up van managed to stay just ahead of his GS. No matter how he pushed the car, the van always seemed to slip through his grasp, twisting through alleys and side streets. Andrew's fatigue was starting to weigh on him, making the chase even more frustrating.

Then, just like that, the chase ended as abruptly as it began. The van screeched to a halt in a deserted parking lot, a couple of streets from the familiar courts. Andrew glanced at the clock – it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes since they finished practice. Yet, the adrenaline-fueled sprint felt like an eternity.

Andrew bolted out of the car, knives drawn. He needed to get to Kevin before she could use him as a bargaining chip. His heart did a dramatic double-take when his eyes landed on the scene before him. Kevin was out of the trunk, sitting casually and talking with mother-fucking Neil Josten. The ‘She’ was in fact a ‘He’, and he was a dead man walking. Andrew guarantees it.

Fury boiled over in Andrew. This was it . Time to teach this gremlin a lesson. He proceeded to try to hit the bastard real good. Was it a prank? Was Josten Riko’s mole? Andrew didn’t care. Stab now, ask questions later . The pest climbed up onto the van’s roof, too far for Andrew’s reach. He gritted his teeth, frustration warring with a sliver of grudging respect for Josten's reflexes. Fine, let him perch up there. Sooner or later, he'd have to climb down, and Andrew would be waiting. 

"Josten!" Andrew hissed, his voice promised danger. He lunged forward, a flurry of jabs aimed at the roof’s edge just in front of Josten – a violent warning. He spat out the words, venom dripping from each syllable. “We already had the talk about you touching my things.”

Josten’s poker face gave away nothing of his inner thoughts. He simply cracked open his mouth, his voice smooth, and delivered a single, infuriating line. “And like the previous time, I asked .”

Andrew felt sick to his stomach, oh, so sick. Josten could have been Moriyamas' henchman, and Andrew could have lost Kevin today . Yes, Josten would look much nicer with a knife down his throat. Maybe a little more fear in his fake, fake eyes. Andrew forced himself to focus.

The air crackled with tension. Suddenly, Kevin's voice cut through it all, a jarringly casual, "Yeah, he asked, and I agreed.'' 

Kevin appeared surprisingly composed, as if he had just taken a casual stroll outside rather than having been recently kidnapped by this pint-sized child. Andrew couldn't fathom why he was the only one taking the situation seriously. "Why?" he demanded, one knife pointed menacingly at Kevin.

Kevin's face flushed a deep crimson.  ”It was a bet,” he stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. If it’s a joke, why am I not laughing?

Oh, Kevin. This is the magic of Kevin Day. He never joked but somehow everything he did was hilarious . Hilariously infuriating. Andrew forced himself to focus again.

Josten, ever the master of the last word, scoffed. “Bullshit,”  he countered. "I wanted you to tell Andrew, but you only agreed to spill the beans after I managed to pull it off. I would've much preferred if you had told him a week ago." He pointed at Kevin.

One look at Kevin's guilt-ridden expression told Andrew that for once, Josten wasn't full of shit. He needed answers, and for once Kevin should have spilled them without his usual evasion. "What. Did. You. Have. To. Tell. Me?"

First, Kevin blurted out some incoherent words. After taking a couple of big breaths, he finally managed to cobble together a clearer sentence. "The Ravens are moving to our district. We'll have to play against them.”

A smile, tinged with the lingering effects of his medication, bloomed on Andrew's face. Oh, it's sooo funny, Kevin’s paranoia striking ‘Casandra’ again. "Oh, Kevin," he sing-songed, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "What is it I hear? Does someone miss their old teammate a little too much?"

Panic clawed at Kevin's face, his voice a strangled plea. "Don't let him take me away," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. 

Oh, Kevin, he should have thought about it before he agreed to participate in Josten’s little prank.

Andrew's laugh was a cruel parody of amusement, devoid of any warmth. The knife in his hand traced a menacing arc in the air.  “You're the one who would tell him yes,” he said, his voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Still doesn’t explain your and Mister-Kidnapper-Here's elaborate scheme." He flicked his gaze to Josten, a silent accusation hanging heavy in the air.

Josten, now standing beside the van, met Andrew's gaze with a cool intensity. "Think about it," he said, his voice betraying no emotion. “Kevin was tossed aside by his family of ten-years, just because he couldn’t keep up to their standard with a broken hand. It isn’t such a leap in conclusion to understand why he fears that the guy who has known him for less than a year and who can barely tolerate his presence might abandon him at the first inconvenience."

Andrew didn’t like it. No, he didn’t like it at all. He especially didn’t like how Josten pretended to be the local Kevin expert. There should be only one person with a monopoly on Kevin, and currently he occupied this position. Maybe Andrew should stab the little comedian , at least once. 

Slice his throat from ear to ear and finally get some peace and quiet. His imagination immediately supplied him with the imagery. If he had Coach’s bat too, it would be even better. Pop, pop, on each knee and Josten would no longer be able to escape him. Andrew forced himself to focus.

"This," Josten continued explaining, unaware that with each word he spoke, Andrew re-imagined all the ways to cripple and mute him for good, "was the fastest way to resolve the issue, Kevin saw that you won’t leave him at the first sign of trouble, and you don’t have to wait until June to discover this piece of information.”

Interesting how Josten pretended to know them . Even more interesting was Kevin's soft nod and his own surprise—the menace had apparently guessed both their issues correctly. With every interaction, Andrew felt a growing conviction curdle in his gut. Josten had access to information he had no right to know. Information that perhaps some obsessed prick would have given him with the mission to come here.

“Josten,” Andrew stepped closer to the gremlin. Josten glared right back at him, as if he believed Andrew's knives were just for show, showing no fear of being stabbed. Andrew reminded him kindly, “I also remember telling you to keep to your lane.”

“And I remind you again that I asked .” Josten didn’t back down, staring steadily and still not acknowledging the threat of the knives. Andrew contemplated cutting open Josten’s back, maybe transferring some of that glorious spine to Kevin. Clearly, one of them had too much while the other had too little.

"Yeah, he asked," Kevin mumbled, confirming with a nervous shuffle of his feet. "But I never thought he'd do it like that." His eyes darted to Andrew, pleading for understanding.

Andrew refused to do so, and he refused to let Kevin off the hook. But later. This was not a conversation to have in a mixed company .

"How did you think I would do it? Wave a magic wand? Or maybe with a criminal crew that I just happen to own?" Josten quipped, throwing his hands up in a mocking gesture. Kevin threw his hands up, mimicking the gremlin’s stance, and crossed his arms.

Idiots. Both of them. Or maybe one of them is not … This was not the first time Josten used banter with Kevin as a way to distract him . Cunning, cunning little Josten. Andrew needed more information, so he chose to play the fool for now .

He sheathed his knives with a practiced flick, the metallic hiss echoing in the tense silence. "Maybe," he growled, the word laced with a dangerous edge. "Just maybe, you two dumbasses  – " he gestured with a flick of his wrist, encompassing both Kevin and the ‘problem child’– "should have consulted with a responsible adult before cooking up this plan.”

“Wymack approved it,” Josten shot back, his voice laced with a surprising amount of defiance. 

Kevin added his own useless two cents. “Yeah,” he blurted out, his voice a touch too high-pitched. “Coach knew too, and he said okay.”

Andrew was tired from all this bullshit, he was tired . But he had made a promise he intended to keep, so he needed to get to the bottom of this mess. He wanted to leave, but he knew he needed to find out what was going on with Wymack, because Coach was many things, but a complete dumbass wasn't one of them.

After a long silence among all of them, the menace spoke up.  "Ooo-kay. Not like I didn’t have fun, sure, but I also have a car to return and stuff."

Oh, no, no, Josten has to come, too. They can’t let him miss all the fun, can they? Andrew glared until Josten finally shut up. 

The blissful silence lasted until they were almost at Wymack's. Any question or complaint Kevin tried to voice was promptly drowned out by Andrew cranking up the music so loud it vibrated through the car.

As expected, visiting Wymack was mostly fruitless. They barged into Coach's apartment, and Andrew confirmed that the Ravens were moving into their district. Josten was a sneaky bastard who managed to get his thieving hands on both information and random college facilities access, and Andrew was the only one noticing the glaring red flags about the pest. 

Just… Who does that? Who kidnaps people with a multi-layered plan just for shits and giggles?

Unfortunately, aside from the first piece of information, the rest was already known to him and therefore a waste of time. No salvation was found.

Andrew fumed as he drove himself and Kevin back to Abby’s, leaving Josten with Wymack. There was a sliver of satisfaction in knowing that Josten would have to walk back to his van and deal with the remnants of the kidnapping operation. Andrew lived to annoy.

When they reached their destination, he slammed the GS into park, the jerk of the car mirroring his own simmering anger. He stalked out, the gravel crunching under his boots as he snatched a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. A flame flared to life, illuminating the scowl etched on his face. Kevin stopped beside him.

"This shit  is bad for your health," Kevin whined, flapping a hand dismissively at the smoke. The gesture only served to further irritate Andrew.

"Enough," Andrew growled, his voice a low rumble. "Let's talk."

“About what?”

Andrew flicked his cigarette lighter, the flame momentarily illuminating a hardened glint in his eyes. "Josten," he said, each syllable clipped and sharp. "No Exy," he added, a pointed exhale sending a plume of smoke curling towards Kevin.

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” Kevin yawned, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Andrew blew another wave of smoke in his direction. "Fine," Kevin rolled his eyes. "He’s kinda like you. You both have a tendency to help in the meanest way possible."

That was one way to put it. Andrew still didn’t believe that Josten did all of this just out of the goodness of his heart. Especially unsettling was how the pest looked at Kevin. It wasn’t lust, love, or star-struck admiration. This was something else that Andrew couldn’t decipher.

"He knows you well,” Andrew commented, the implication hanging in the air.

Kevin scoffed. "He knows you just as well, pretty damn well. You usually manage to land a hit, at least a graze, on someone. But not Neil. He dodges your attacks like a freaking dancer, and it's not just pure speed." 

Andrew replayed the encounters in his mind: Josten effortlessly dodging his attack by the van today. The elevator incident. Andrew pushed down how Josten’s taunt near his ear made him feel.  And their first car ride – Josten practically teleporting out before Andrew could even draw his knife, then mirroring his mocking salute back at him. Yeah, Kevin has a point. The bastard did read Andrew’s moves well.

"He anticipates all your moves on the court," Kevin continued, oblivious to Andrew's annoyance. "Knows where your next swing is headed before you do, and nails down all your serves. He needs more muscle to hold them, but he …."

Andrew fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, their highness, Kevin, was talking again about Exy, after he explicitly said no Exy. Andrew ignored the next five minutes of Kevin’s analysis of Josten on the court.

"And, you know," Kevin added, waving away a puff of smoke, "maybe instead of randomly threatening Neil, you could just, you know, actually talk to him."

Andrew considered this for a moment, the dying embers of his cigarette reflecting in his eyes. ”I could, couldn’t I?” He mused, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. “But then where's the fun?”

Kevin offered a half-hearted shrug. “You could maybe just ask him,” he continued, stifling a yawn. “Let’s go to sleep for today. You will have more opportunities, and frankly I am too tired to think.”

That was true. Andrew found himself too exhausted to think straight, partially because of the sweet, sweet call of his medication. Even his anger wouldn't keep him awake once the withdrawal crash set in.

Maybe tomorrow would bring more clues to the mystery of Josten , or at least the patience not to murder him before the school year began.

Chapter Text

Kevin had managed to maintain his composure and avoid descending into a nervous wreck thus far. Good for him . Neil attributed it to years of smiling at the press and pretending things were fine when he was living with delusional narcissists. However, the stress needed an outlet, and Nicky was the most convenient target. This was largely because Nicky was the only one currently letting Kevin's nonsense slide without calling him out. 

In the two weeks between the ERC's vote and the official start of summer practices, Kevin had gone from being impossible to please to simply unbearable to be around. He at least learned not to yell at the team, instead choosing to whisper his complaints right into his opponent's ear.

However, this did little to make his criticism any easier to swallow. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it was when he couldn’t move his arm—a small mercy that spared Kevin from having his racquet mysteriously snapped.

The Foxes weren't scheduled to kick off their practices until Monday, June 10th, but they were obligated to move on campus the day prior to settle into the athletes' dormitory. Neil saw the estimated arrival times on a list hanging on Wymack's fridge. The first arrival, Matt, wasn't expected until two in the afternoon, and the last, Allison, not until five. Neil's heart swelled with longing as he eagerly awaited the moment when the entire team would finally be reunited. He oddly missed the more composed part of the team; maybe with more teammates, Kevin would at least spread out more of his "advice" and give Nicky some breathing room.

Neil and his duffel bag hitched a ride with Wymack to the stadium. Unfortunately, he had to leave his favorite box at Coach’s flat. The older man promised to keep it in peak condition for any occasion Neil might want to spend the night in it.

Wymack left Neil in the foyer with strict instructions to not leave until Matt arrived. Wymack clearly wanted someone to at least attempt to keep Neil out of his shenanigans. Which was rude, as Neil never got into trouble; It's not as if someone had caught him red-handed committing any misdeed.

As he waited, Neil browsed through the school catalog. He wasn't ready to declare his major just yet, as he wasn't entirely certain he would even make it to the next year—tricking the mafia had its own set of discretion . He wanted something easy, so he could focus most of his attention on the important stuff, like Exy and playing crime-boss. He perused the modern languages section, debating which to choose as he was already a polyglot. He settled on beginner courses in German, Russian, Spanish, and Pre-Calculus—the last one was for the ‘if he survived the spring’ plan.

He only went for classes that didn’t require a mandatory attendance. In worst case scenarios he could always pay for someone to do his homework; it's not like he could flunk his tests. With his new schedule, he could easily squeeze in the two hours of morning practice and five hours in the afternoon, plus the five weekly hours of mandatory tutoring that Palmetto required of all their athletes. Neil watched the clock; there was still half an hour to kill, and nothing to do. He'd just gotten up when Abby walked in.

“Hey, Neil,” Abby said. “You're a bit too early for the meeting.”

Neil grumbled, "Coach wouldn't let me into Fox Tower until Matt shows up."

"Perhaps your last stunt was a bit of an overkill," she gently reminded him. Of course Wymack had snitched on him to her. Abby glanced at her watch. "Since you've got time to spare, we might as well get your physical over with."

This time around, the physical went much better. No questions were asked, and Abby maintained her composure at the sight of various hideous scars Neil had. Later, they quietly chatted about Wymack and his habit of pouring himself a new coffee before finishing the previous one.

When Matt Boyd finally arrived, Neil almost didn’t recognize him. Neil didn’t miss the spiky hair fashion, or more accurately, he wouldn’t miss it. Time is relative, but so confusing.

Matt reached out to shake Neil’s hand, and Neil had to work to keep his stare on Matthew Boyd's face. Matt's short sleeves did nothing to hide the faded but obvious track marks on both arms. It was such a difference from Matt's image in Nathaniel’s memories that Neil almost forgot that right now, Matt was a relatively freshly-recovered drug addict.

“Matt Boyd, if you remember?” he grinned. Before Neil could respond, Wymack, who had heard Matt’s arrival, emerged and flung a key ring at Matt's head.

“Ow,” Matt complained when it hit his chest. “Jesus, Coach, good to see you too. Since when have we moved past a simple ‘hello’?”

“Since you stomp past my open door without so much as a by-your-leave,” Wymack replied, then put Neil’s key-ring in Neil’s open palm.

Matt shrugged and looked around. “Where are the monsters?”

Wymack snorted. “Probably razing Fox Tower to the ground as we speak.” Neil wondered if this was why Coach had him sticking around. Ever since the 'alleged kidnapping' Andrew treated Neil like a fox caught in his henhouse. Always watching everything Neil did in the presence of his “chicks”.

Matt, bless his oblivious soul, sent Neil a sympathetic pat on the back. “I can't believe you put up with just them and Coach this long. How did you survive?”

Wymack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't waste your pity on him, kid. You should hear what we had to put up with with Neil.”

Matt eyed Neil up and down, confused. “This cute pint-sized guy? I don't believe it."

Neil shrugged back innocently at Matt's look.

Wymack cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Still, Neil has been training with Kevin and Andrew every day.”

“Oh god,” Matt clearly felt for him. “You're awful, Coach.” But only Coach and Neil were aware that Matt’s condolences were very unnecessary.

“He knows,” Abby chimed in from her office doorway, leaning against the frame. “Welcome back, Matt. Did you have a safe drive?”

Matt returned Abby's warm smile. “Safe enough, but I drank—”

Wymack snorted, dismissive. "Enough chatter. You’re keeping the rookie waiting.”

“Coach wouldn't let me move in without you,” Neil explained.

Matt's smile widened, his boundless enthusiasm infectious. "Ah, of course! Come on then, let's swing by Coach's place and grab your stuff." Neil's stomach clenched. This was it. The moment he'd both dreaded and weirdly anticipated. He hoisted his duffel bag higher, a silent weight settling on his shoulders.

"That's it," Neil indicated with a turn of his head towards the bag.

Matt scanned the room, searching for any sign of luggage. Finding none, he raised an eyebrow at Wymack, who simply shook his head in response. Matt turned back to Neil, a question lingering in his gaze. “That’s a joke, right? You should see how much stuff I crammed into my truck—and you expect to last a year with only one bag? Does that thing have magical expanding powers I don’t know about or something?”

“I do have one box in Coach‘s place,” Neil admitted. A flicker of hope sparked in Matt's eyes, only to be extinguished the moment Wymack snorted. 

“It's an empty box,” the Coach declared, his voice thick with amusement. “The kid just liked it very much.”

“It's a good box,” Neil defended it.

A chorus of eye rolls erupted from Wymack and Abby, while Matt's expression morphed from hopeful to utterly bewildered.

“You get to take him shopping later this week,” Wymack got back on the topic of Neil's lack of stuff. “On your time, not mine. I'm sick of seeing him in the same clothes over and over. Just let me know when you're going and I'll give you the p-card so we can expense it.”

Neil bristled slightly. "Hey, I'm perfectly capable of buying my own clothes, thanks."

“Good for you, didn’t ask,” he just gave them another dismissive wave of the hand. “I thought you two were leaving.”

“I didn’t miss you at all,” Matt pointed at Coach, his tone lacking any heat, “but I missed you,” he said, pointing at Abby. “Let’s go, Neil.”

Matt's truck was a monstrous blue thing that looked like it could eat a hole through the stadium without slowing. The truck bed overflowed with furniture, held in place by a dozen taut cords to prevent anything from spilling out. The back seats of the extended cab were crammed with suitcases and crates. As the engine roared to life with a subdued growl that Neil felt more than heard, the radio blared to life a moment later. Matt promptly shut it off and slammed his door closed.

“We're not all bad, just so you know,” Matt said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Dan hated that your most memorable impression of us would be the monsters. She was pretty sure you wouldn't stick around long enough to meet the rest of us.”

"Don't worry, I can dish it out as well as take it," Neil reassured. "Most of the time, they played nice." And indeed they did, especially compared to how Nathaniel remembered the 'monsters' at the beginning; this time around, they were all relatively tame.

"Played nice?" Matt echoed. "That's the strangest description of them I've ever heard. Seriously though, if they give you any trouble, just give me a heads up. I'll kick Kevin's ass for you."

“Thanks, but it’s really not a problem.”

"I thought I could handle them too," Matt admitted, running a hand through his hair, disarranging his spikes in every direction. Matt’s lost gaze reminded Neil of the 'forced rehab' mess Andrew had made Matt go through, which was approved by Matt’s mother—a tiny crucial detail that almost everyone overlooked.

Matt sighed and placed both hands back on the wheel. “Andrew made it pretty clear he wasn't going to be handled by anyone. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. My offer stands until graduation."

Neil appreciated the offer, even though he knew he wouldn't need Matt's help. "Thanks," he said sincerely.

Unfortunately, Fox Tower was one of the few buildings situated atop the hill. The hill might have been a nice spot for students to picnic between classes, but for the poor athletes’ souls lugging around heavy gear, it's a nightmare. Hauling everything up to the third floor was a fiasco, especially since some of the furniture refused to fit in the elevator. The narrow stairwell made maneuvering a real challenge, and the pesky handrail kept getting in their way every time they turned a corner on the landings. Neil's duffel bag added to the struggle, as he insisted on carrying it with him on every trip rather than leaving it in their room or Matt's truck. He didn’t know it for sure, but his gut feeling told him Andrew was probably lurking around, waiting for his chance to snoop into Neil’s bag.

Their suite offered a surprising amount of space. Right inside the door, a kitchenette beckoned with the promise of late-night snacks. Beyond that stretched a spacious living room, complete with three desks tucked neatly against the walls. Two doors led off: one to a shared bathroom, the other to their bedroom.

The bedroom layout was efficient. Two beds were bunked on one wall, while a third platform bed rose chest-high on the other, leaving room for handy storage drawers and shelves underneath. Fitting Matt's furniture—a couch, coffee table, and entertainment center—into the mix proved a bit of a challenge. He'd taken the entertainment center's shelves apart for transport, but thankfully, most of the bolts remained intact. Reassembling it only took a couple of minutes, and soon, a TV and game consoles filled the empty slots.

For Neil, the sight of a designated space for his belongings felt surreal. This could be either his death rest or his first taste of home. He eyed the bare bed, a flicker of dread sparking in his gut at the thought of sleep. Maybe not "home" just yet, but at least a room to return to, a place to call his own, for now .

Neil tried not to think about what kind of person it made him that he really missed his gun.

"Hey, I'm heading out to pick up Dan and Renee at the airport," Matt announced from the doorway. "Wanna join?"

Neil hesitated. Thinking about airports, crowds, cameras and cops keeping a watchful eye on incoming passengers. Not exactly his ideal hangout for keeping his cover, especially since he wasn't even traveling. "Nah, I gotta make a quick run to the store," he replied, hoping his voice sounded casual.

"Oh, I'm too tall to sleep up top," Matt remarked sheepishly. "And Seth keeps odd hours, so unless you're bad with heights, you're better off in the top bunk.”

“Sure.” Neil reassured him. He already decided that the top bed would be the most secure option given the limitation, but he would still need to check if he could create a nap hideout somewhere in the dorms for himself. 

"Awesome," Matt grinned. "Dan won't believe you're okay until she lays eyes on you herself. I'll be back in an hour, tops."