Chapter Text
“If we’re all accounted for, we should head out,” the deep voice of one of the security officers came from the doorway. Andrew turned around to see one of them standing with crossed arms across his chest, while the other had his hand casually resting on his gun. Neither one of them looked particularly thrilled to be there.
“We’re still waiting on Neil,” Nicky said, his voice as cheerful as ever. The guard gestured down the hallway to his right as Neil emerged from the locker room. Something was off with his expression, though. He looked like he was fighting especially hard to keep his gaze as flat and calm as ever. Nicky jumped to his feet, a wide grin splitting his face open.
“Hey, Neil! We were starting to think you drowned in there.” The rest of the upperclassmen rose to their feet.
“I’m sorry,” Neil said, his voice just a little hoarse. Andrew immediately knew something was wrong. Neil’s eyes flitted to each Fox in turn, his expression one of a deep-seeded sorrow. He looked like he was mourning something.
Andrew stood up and made his way over to him in two strides, demanding an explanation. But Neil only smiled at him sadly, warmth and grief battling onto his face.
“Thank you,” he whispered after a moment. “You were amazing.” The reverence of the phrase was not lost on Andrew - it clearly sounded like a goodbye. But before Andrew could open his mouth, Wymack gestured for them to get a move on, so Neil turned away from him.
As they walked through the parking lot, a million different possibilities filtered through his brain. Was Neil leaving him? Did he want to run away? Did he not trust Andrew’s protection anymore? What if-
His thoughts were cut off by a shout in the crowd, followed by a flying beer bottle that shattered against his twin’s shoulder. Aaron let out a pained shout and grabbed his arm as blood already began to soak into his shirt. Before Andrew could take another breath, someone had flung a bright blue cooler toward the Foxes.
In an instant, Andrew grabbed Kevin’s wrist in one hand and his brother’s in the other. He began shoving through the frenzied crowd, keeping an iron grip on his Monsters as he hauled them toward the bus.
Chaos seemed to grow. Where, previously, stood a line of Foxes and Bearcats fans, now was nothing short of a full-blown riot. Vile insults thrown at the other side swiftly became thrown punches. People clawed at each other like animals, snarling vicious words. Within moments, screaming and crashing surrounded them.
Someone’s ragged cry had Andrew glancing behind him, just enough to catch a glimpse of Nicky, Renee, and Allison fighting toward them. Andrew shoved harder through the swarm of people, and managed to get to the edge of the bus. He dragged both Kevin and Aaron to one of the rows and forced them each into a seat, and only then paused to catch his breath. After a few minutes, Nicky appeared with the rest of the upperclassmen, all of them sporting injuries of various severity.
Abby hustled in after them, already beginning to fuss over Dan and Matt. As the nurse started patching up Boyd’s bruising knuckles, Wymack appeared at the bottom of the steps whilst viciously talking on the phone.
Andrew’s heart stuttered to a stop when his eyes scanned the bus again and missed a fiery mess of auburn curls. Andrew tried to calm his increasingly erratic breathing, but he failed miserably. His hands clenched into fists as he got up from his seat and moved toward the doors. He fought with everything in him to look apathetic as always, but his insides were burning with possibility.
He made his way back toward the bus doors, shoving past Nicky and Wilds. Abby immediately called out to him, asking about his injuries. Andrew waved her off and planted himself in front of Wymack, who had just hung up the phone.
Andrew met his coach’s exhausted eyes, and a cold pit settled within his stomach even before Wymack opened his mouth. “The police can’t find him. They’re on the lookout but it’s more likely an emergency room has him.” The coach sighed. “The best plan is to treat all of your injuries and then call the hospitals in the morning. He probably won’t be awake to talk to us tonight anyways.”
Andrew immediately knew he was ignoring that, and ducked under Wymack’s arm out into the parking lot. Wymack called after him, but Andrew ignored him in favor of scanning the barely-illuminated parking spots for something, anything, that would help them find Neil.
His eyes caught on a familiar shape at the very edge of the property, near the curb, that easily filled him with dread. He ran faster than he had in a long time over to the battered, lumpy duffle bag. A broken exy racket lay beside it.
Andrew unzipped the bag ferociously, ripping it open and scrabbling through the things inside. Clothing, shoes, school books- Andrew’s heartbeat hammered in his chest as he pulled out a keyring and a cellphone from the bottom of the bag.
Neil was gone. He hadn’t run. The person he had sworn to protect was missing.
It wasn’t until Andrew finally looked up again that he noticed another dark lump about twenty feet away.
A pale, broken body lay on the asphalt. Auburn curls, once vibrant and bold, were now soaked with blood. Blue eyes that used to sparkle with warmth now looked nothing more than shattered glass.
Neil met Andrew’s eyes, his own glassy with pain. He croaked something, too garbled to make out, and began coughing up blood. Immediately, Andrew was on his knees, reaching toward his pipedream, but Neil flinched away so violently Andrew immediately froze.
This time, Andrew understood perfectly. “Don’t touch me, you bastard.” Neil’s voice scraped at his throat. “I’m dying because of you. You promised to protect me, but you failed. You're the reason all of this happened.”
Andrew’s blood turned to slush in his veins. “No, I-”
“I hate you,” Neil snarled, “You psychopath, you deserve to burn in hell.” Neil was shaking and coughing and looking at him with such disgust it made Andrew’s eyes swim with tears. “This is all because of you!”
Andrew started shaking as tears dripped down his face. “No, no, Neil. Abram, Abram.” Neil’s breaths were getting shallow, and his eyes were so glazed Andrew didn't even think he was coherent anymore. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing. Don’t leave me, please. Please. Don’t leave me. ABRAM!” He was sobbing in earnest now, trembling like a leaf, as Neil’s body went still.
Andrew awoke with a pained gasp, clutching at the blankets. Cold sweat dripped down his neck and back, which only fuelled the violent tremors wracking his body. He tried to catch his breath, but failed, only managing to push himself further into panic. His thoughts raced, flipping through memories and nightmares and fantasies all at once.
Something wet and rough broke him out of his thoughts.
His eyes flitted around the room, cataloguing everything, and landed on the pile of fur that lay beside him on the bed. He didn’t remember letting King into his room.
What can you see? Bee’s voice filtered through his mind. He saw cracked plaster on the ceiling. A garish mustard-yellow paint on the walls. His eyes found deep orange curtains, almost the color of auburn hair. There was a dresser across from where he lay - a deep mahogany wood that cost a fortune.
What can you hear? His dripping faucet in the bathroom. The hum of his tiny fridge. An ambulance alarm somewhere in the city, racing through the streets. His cat’s content purr beside his chest.
What can you feel? Scratchy old sheets. His scarred knuckles. He ran his fingers through King’s silky fur and scraped blunt fingernails behind her ears.
Andrew clenched his fists together and forced his heart rate to slow. He sat up slowly, still catching his breath, and managed to make it up on unsteady feet. King immediately hopped down from the bed and wove herself between his feet, once, twice. Then she darted into the living room, presumably to her own bed.
He managed to make his way to the bathroom and turn the faucet on, and splashed some cold water onto his face. After cooling himself off, he stared at the mirror.
Lengthening blond hair curled behind his ears. Heavyset, broad shoulders puffed up. Dark, apathetic hazel ideas stared back at him. He looked the same as he did a decade ago, except his stomach had filled out a bit, his forearms had obtained tattoos, and his ears now sported black gouges.
Andrew always found it ironic how bored he managed to look even when staring at his own reflection.
He took another deep breath, letting himself settle, and made his way out of the bathroom. However, instead of turning toward the bedroom again, he made his way to his tiny kitchen. Andrew pulled out the small grey step stool he needed to reach the upper cabinets and rummaged within the highest one.
His hands caught on the piece of paper he was looking for, and he pulled it into his hands before settling onto the counter to read.
As he smoothed open the weathered, crinkled paper, he realized his hands had never stopped shaking. The page was illuminated with nothing more than a slice of dim light from the microwave, yet his foolproof memory provided him with the words that were almost too hard to see.
Andrew -
If you’re reading this, then it’s probably too late for me. I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. An apology implies that I regret something, and I regret nothing when it comes to you.
You’re probably going to hate me even more than you already do for this. And that’s fair. I told you I would stay, and I didn’t, and if I have to be sorry for something, I’m sorry for breaking my promise to you.
I know you always said that I was nothing, and that this was nothing, but it was never nothing to me. I just want you to know, if I don’t make it out of this alive, that I think I could’ve figured out what love felt like if we had more time. I don’t love you, Andrew, but God, how I wanted to. I know you always say that wanting is pointless, but I wanted a future with you more than anything else.
Thank you for the time. And the trust. And the kisses. And the keys. And the home you gave me. Thank you for breaking down my lies and telling me to stop running. Thank you for putting faith in me.
If I do make it out alive, which I probably won’t, don’t come looking for me, Andrew. It’s too dangerous. Hate me for this if you must, but promise me you will not go looking. I am not worth dying over. It’s a no, Drew. Just for this.
Thank you again. You were amazing.
-Neil Abram Josten
He traced the words with his eyes once, twice, a third time. His fingers brushed the name signed at the bottom. His throat felt clogged with emotion.
He’d grown enough in the last decade to admit he missed Neil Abram Josten. Fuck, did he miss him. He missed the softness in his eyes and the sharpness of his smile. He missed his voice, and his scarred hands. He missed the perfect understanding in his eyes, and the lack of pity in his face. He missed the haunting, terrifying feeling of being known as he revealed the cruellest parts of himself on the roof. He missed searching Neil’s expression for a sign of fear as he revealed the vicious monster underneath the bored exterior and finding nothing but a reflection of the same darkness in icy-blue eyes.
He had healed enough to realize that he had been falling in love with Neil Abram Josten before Baltimore. He could recognize that the love and affection that he had hoped would die off after a year of missing Neil was still very much present within his chest.
A longing, a wistfulness he would have berated himself for ten years ago filled him up, and he allowed himself to hope. In the darkness of the night, in the secretive midnight hours, he allowed himself to hope that, maybe someday, he would get to say goodbye to Neil for real.