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Andrew’s hands were calloused.
Kevin knew this. He couldn’t remember how he knew this. A steady hand on the nape, a rough scrape of skin during night practice, the indent of fingernails into a wrist. Maybe it was just a fact, like the death of a star or the dark of night. It was expected, an obvious thing. Of course Andrew’s hands were calloused. Why wouldn’t they be?
He wondered if Andrew knew just how calloused they were, held against Kevin’s throat.
It happened in a blur. Kevin remembered hearing the word Baltimore and choking. He remembered how Andrew’s eyes had snapped to his, a livewire dangerously close to open water. He remembered a question, and the gnashing of teeth. He remembered the concerned looks from Wymack and Dan, and the empty space where Neil should’ve been. Kevin remembered breathing until he couldn’t anymore.
It was disorienting being suddenly upright and then not. It always was on court, no matter how hard he tried to unlearn it, a body check leaving him breathless until he came back to himself with a snarl and determined twirl of his racket. Kevin would zero in on his opponent until he had them on their back, not sated until they were on the court floor watching him score on them.
Quid pro quo.
The bus seat was cold, hard and digging into Kevin’s back. It didn’t feel like the court floor, not with Andrew draped on top of him, squeezing the life out of him. Andrew should’ve been at his back, watching, ready and waiting to protect the goal, to protect Kevin. Kevin, who he was draped on top of, squeezing the life out of him with trembling hands.
Voices rose and fell. Kevin’s ears leaked cotton, everything fuzzy and wrong. Everything was wrong. Neil was gone. Neil was in Baltimore. Nathaniel was in Baltimore and nobody knew what that meant. It made Kevin dizzy. Kevin knew what it meant to Neil to keep his mouth shut. He understood that dazed look on Neil’s face, the begging, desperate need for a secret to stay that way, to trust another person with that need.
If they’d just given Kevin a chance, just a moment to collect himself, he would’ve told them. He would’ve spilled his guts and Neil would’ve hated him for it but maybe then he could be safe. He would come back to them whole, with two hands to hold a racket and two feet to run. But Neil was in Baltimore, and Kevin knew what that meant, and now so did Andrew.
Andrew, who was squeezing the life out of him.
Time was fickle. Hours ago everything was in its right place, the Foxes won as Kevin always knew they could. Minutes ago the team was frantic, the white knuckled grip Wymack had on his phone all they could focus on. Seconds ago burning hazel eyes scorched to black. Riko loomed over him, flickering with an edge of Tetsuji, and Kevin couldn’t take it.
Something overcame Kevin, overwhelming in the way it thrummed under his skin. Kevin’s hands, desperately clawing at
Riko’s
Andrew’s own, balled into fists. He kicked at Andrew, aiming for his waist, his thighs, anywhere that would hurt, anywhere that would get him off, that would help him breathe. When that didn’t work, Kevin took a swing.
His fist connected with Andrew’s cheekbone, already tender from the riot. Through his blurred vision Kevin saw Andrew hesitate, the first flicker of something other than a bottomless rage. He reared back just the slightest, and Kevin took advantage. He kicked harder and he punched again, and again, the heat pooling in his chest threatening to spill over and burn them both.
Get off me get off me get off me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me how could you how could you how could—
Air rushed back into his lungs.
With the pressure of Andrew’s hands gone Kevin heaved a gasping breath, his whole body alight. He felt the tremors of adrenaline skimming across his arms, and blinked away the white spots dancing in his vision. He registered the thin tendrils of Andrew’s skin bunched under his fingernails, and thought he was going to be sick.
Kevin coughed and spluttered, lashing out at the hands reaching for him. He didn’t know if they were there to mend, or hurt him some more. He pushed through them, peeling himself off the seat and stumbling down the aisle, away from the noise and the pressure mounting behind his eyes. He made his way off the bus, taking a few strides before he collapsed on the concrete.
He coughed and spluttered, spilling his guts on the grey. Kevin tried to vomit, trying desperately to get the feeling mounting in his chest out. It was too vulnerable, sticky with guilt and disappointment. Kevin bent himself over his knees, his cheek close to the bile.
A steady hand held Kevin’s shoulder. “Breathe, Kev.”
Kevin shook his head against the harsh ground.
Wymack pulled him upright, sitting him on his ass so he stopped scraping his knees and forehead bloody. “I need you to breathe so Abby can take a look at you.”
Kevin closed his eyes, shaking his head so hard it hurt his throat, raw and swollen. He held his fist to his chest, realising with groggy comprehension it was his left. It throbbed from the game, it throbbed from hitting Andrew’s jaw, and it throbbed with the memory of the last time it ached like this.
There was a noise, and Kevin heard Wymack curse. “No, no. Andrew, get the fuck back on that bus. Don’t—”
Kevin looked over his shoulder. Andrew had pushed past Renee, always the last line of defence. The rest of the Foxes watched from inside, faces pressed against the window. They looked as crazed as Kevin. He didn’t know how it had all turned to shit, the high from the win and the stress from the riot and the terror of losing Neil, it was all too much.
But Andrew didn’t reach for Kevin again. He didn’t try to choke the answers out of him, or even speak at all. Andrew simply walked a few metres from the bus and stopped. He looked unkempt, his hair wild and nose bloody. It took Kevin a moment to realise he’d done that. Kevin had punched Andrew, Kevin had fought Andrew, because Andrew laid a hand on him.
Finally, Andrew acknowledged him, and Andrew looked at Kevin like he was a stranger.
Maybe he was. Maybe it was just a fact, like the inevitable break of a promise.
Kevin wasn’t alone with Andrew for days.
It might’ve been deliberate, with Wymack’s eyes on the pair whenever he thought Kevin wasn’t watching, meddling always at least a body between them. Kevin thought it was misplaced. With Neil back with the Foxes, torn to shreds but alive, Andrew’s attention was elsewhere. He rarely spared Kevin a glance, and when he did it was fleeting.
Andrew looked through him, and it left Kevin unmoored.
Andrew wasn’t the most outwardly attentive person Kevin knew, but he was the steadiest. Andrew never faltered, never battered an eye when it came to a promise. Even when he withdrew into himself his eyes would linger on Kevin when they entered a room, sharp and attune to anyone that could possibly pose a threat. His protection was a given, one of the few things Kevin relied on to be as steady as the man who held it.
Andrew had completely removed himself from Kevin.
A part of Kevin thought it was for the best. If Andrew paid him no mind he wouldn’t hurt him again, and wasn’t that a terrible thought? Kevin could slink in the shadows and lick his wounds until they both forgot how the other’s skin felt as it split. But Kevin knew that wasn’t an option. There was too much baggage, simply too much between them to even try to forget. Not with Neil around, a constant reminder of what they’d both found and lost.
Neil, who looked death in the eye and grinned.
Neil, who asked Kevin to reveal the truth to Wymack.
Neil, who could ask Kevin to jump and he’d ask how high so long as he followed. And he would.
Kevin didn’t even have Exy to keep himself busy. The cabin was a spur of the moment thing, a distraction for the team and from the press. Brunch was a whirlwind, Allison's nails tapping at her phone grinding Kevin’s nerves. He tried to object, tried to remind them they were in the middle of spring championships. One fleeting glance from Andrew made Kevin shut his mouth.
An insane thought rose to the surface. Kevin could’ve kept talking, could’ve ignored Andrew’s warning and argued some more, blades be damned, because why would it matter? Andrew had already broken his promise, had wrung it dry and spat on its corpse. Kevin had nothing to lose anymore, not as long as Andrew was concerned. Kevin drained the thought before it could fester.
The two hour drive to Blue Ridge was suffocating, like Andrew’s hands were around his throat all over again.
He contemplated taking on Renee’s offer to sit in Matt’s truck. As badly as Kevin wanted to, he couldn’t. It was a close thing, but he hesitated at the last moment. He sat in the back next to Nicky, shoulders slumped and his eyes heavy. Andrew paid him no mind, like he wouldn’t have noticed if he’d taken Matt’s truck. Kevin, already raw from his conversation with Wymack, barely noticed more salt in the wound.
Why didn’t you tell me sooner?
Would it have changed anything?
It would’ve changed everything, Kevin.
Wymack’s broken voice was a loop in his mind, and he itched to hear another to break it.
Nightfall was a sluggish affair.
The balcony was quiet, the soft hum of voices tickling Kevin’s ear. The wind had a chill, cooler the higher they were in the mountains. Kevin felt small in his hoodie, the hood pulled over his head with one leg tucked under him, his sweats baggy. The door opened to his left, a burst of warm air biting at his exposed ankle. Kevin closed his eyes, not having the strength for another conversation where someone yelled at him.
Wymack and Dan had taken their fill, and Kevin was tired.
The chair didn’t dip with the other person’s weight. They were smaller than Kevin, not taking up space as they sat and stared at the expanse of trees. Mentally, he ticked off Matt and Nicky. He also ticked off Allison and Neil, who would’ve been gnawing at his ear by now. Aaron wouldn’t bother. Renee would position herself in front of Kevin with that placating smile on her face, and offer a thought about the weather.
It left only one, and Kevin’s eyes shot open.
Andrew sat beside Kevin, clad in his own oversized hoodie, black to Kevin’s grey. He looked as small as Kevin felt, and sometimes Kevin forgot just how small Andrew was. He was all muscle, strong in the way any decent goalie should be, and held himself like a man with the world on his shoulders. Kevin shrunk behind those shoulders more times than he could count, but he never saw their size, not really.
He did now. Andrew looked like hell, his under eyes a dark, mottled purple. He had a cut across the bridge of his nose. There was a chance it was from the riot, an even greater chance it was from Kevin. His eye was almost back to normal, a hint of red still caught in the sclera. It cast a ghoulish look about him, like Andrew had sleepwalked into the world of the living and was too stubborn to leave.
They stayed like that for a long while. The words caught in Kevin’s bruised throat, the words lacking in Andrew’s. The wind picked up. He crossed his arms and hugged his chest, unable to stand the distance between them. Kevin had spent so many hours in Andrew’s silent presence, and not once had it felt so loud.
Kevin didn’t know who would break their stalemate first.
Me, Kevin thought, it’s always me.
“I trusted you not to be like them.”
Andrew’s jaw ticked. “Don’t.”
“No,” Kevin grit out. “You hurt me.”
Andrew wouldn’t look at him. “Yes.”
Kevin’s anger squeezed his throat. His words felt thick and syrupy. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
“I won’t apologise.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“Then what,” Andrew said, “do you want.”
He said it in a way that wasn’t a question, more of a statement, a clear why would I bother with this conversation? It ached, deep in Kevin’s sternum because Kevin wasn’t just anyone to Andrew. He wasn’t one of the upperclassmen, wasn’t a stranger and wasn’t whatever Neil was to him. Kevin was different, and Andrew laid his hands on him anyway, endless months of trust collapsing in under thirty seconds.
Kevin could score twice in that time.
“I want…” Kevin faltered. What did he want? “I don’t know. I just… how could you do that to me?”
Despite what they’d built, despite the time Andrew had put into protecting Kevin, their deal meant nothing to Andrew. Their deal kept Andrew a steady comfort, the beacon in Kevin’s ocean when all he wanted to do was stop treading water, to let the waves drag him under. He’d eviscerated it all for Neil. It hurt, more than it ought to.
Andrew finally looked at him. “It wasn’t you.”
Kevin’s jaw snapped shut. He kept quiet, knowing better than to speak and scare Andrew off. There was a timid something between them, a delicate thing neither quite knew how to navigate. Of all the time Kevin had known Andrew, this was new.
“You were solid and in the way of finding him. I could break you to get to him,” Andrew blinked slowly. “I didn’t see you.”
“I saw you, and that look on your face,” Kevin said, fingers grazing against the dark bruise across his throat.
Andrew’s eyebrow raised, just the slightest.
“I saw you, until I didn’t,” Kevin continued, uncomfortable. “For a second I saw him, and his hands on me, and I needed them off. So I took a swing.”
Andrew huffed, the light catching the dark bruise on his cheekbone. It was then when Kevin noticed the marks on Andrew’s hands. Harsh, red nail lines, stopping at the edge of his armbands. Kevin’s nails. They were deep, angry and scabbing. Kevin had been so focused on the punches he forgot about the scratching. Kevin had to look away.
“I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Kevin scoffed. “You’ve seen me with Seth, and any backliner stupid enough to provoke me.” Kevin had even been physical with Andrew in the past. He was known to hip and shoulder Andrew, frustration boiling over as it so often did when Andrew was too stubborn to admit he was capable and good, great even. But that was Exy and with layers between them. That was different.
“And Neil,” Andrew added.
Kevin remembered all too well. He rolled his eyes. “They’re not you.”
“No, they are not.”
They fell into another silence. Kevin broke it, again.
“I don’t see you the way the others do. I never have.”
Andrew nodded, barely there, but he’d acknowledged Kevin.
“On that bus…” Kevin shook his head. “You scared me,” he admitted. “For a second I thought—”
“That I would kill you?”
“Maybe. What was I supposed to think?”
“Why would I kill you?”
It was so matter of fact that Kevin laughed. It was more of a choke, a startled breath than anything. Kevin felt a little lightheaded. “I don’t know. Maybe you got bored of me.”
“Bored of you,” Andrew repeated like Kevin was a child, like Kevin was stupid. His hackles rose again, but he managed to bite his tongue. Andrew’s own skimmed across his split lip. “What about you, Kevin, is boring?”
Kevin didn’t have an answer for that. He wasn’t boring, and he thought, perhaps deliriously, that was why Andrew kept him around for so long. He was a mess, a concoction of contradictions, with scars and fears that some days felt like they could swallow Kevin whole. And Andrew stayed, because Kevin met his promise with his own.
Andrew has neither purpose nor ambition. I was the first person who ever looked at Andrew and told him he was worth something. When he comes off these drugs and has nothing else to hold him up I will give him something to build his life around.
Kevin had given him that in Neil, and wasn’t that a fucking revelation. Andrew was only human. He craved company as much as Kevin did.
“I thought you were immovable, in control of everything,” Kevin admitted, his brain close to seeping from his skull, overwhelmed with the emotion pressing against his sternum. “I thought you were made of steel. I thought nothing could shake you, that nothing could frighten you. I thought you were stronger than I could ever hope to be. You’re not.”
Andrew’s fingers twitched, like he itched for a cigarette.
“Not when it comes to him,” Kevin said. “You lost Neil and you lost yourself.”
If it was me or him, Kevin thought, I know who you’d choose.
A second thought crossed his mind. And maybe that’s okay.
“Our deal,” Kevin finally had the courage to say the quiet part out loud. “Does this mean we’re done?”
“You don’t need me like you did before,” Andrew said. “But I am still here, you have my word.”
Kevin gestured to his bruised throat. “Do I?”
Andrew went very still at that.
Kevin clasped his hands together, squirming and uncomfortable. He told his younger self that awful night he wouldn’t let anyone close to him hurt him again. That he wouldn’t forgive, that he would be strong enough to turn away, to leave. Kevin didn’t need to feel his scar to know its grooves.
But Kevin couldn’t walk away from Andrew, not when there was still so much left unsaid and untapped. Andrew wasn’t like the others, he couldn’t be, not when he knew Kevin inside and out and stayed despite it. Andrew had laid a hand on Kevin, that was the truth. Kevin also thought it was true that he could forgive him for it, eventually.
Not because he had to. Not because he was forced to, fronting a smile with a cane pressed against his spine and a blade held under his shirt. Kevin would find a way to forgive Andrew because he wanted to. Kevin wanted Andrew in his life, and couldn’t remember a time before him, without him.
“I’ll never forget it, and it’s going to take time before I don’t feel your hands when I look at you,” Kevin said. “I still want your back, at least until we beat the Ravens.”
Because they would win, they had to. They had to.
“Want,” Andrew gritted out, and it felt like a weighted word, thrown around carelessly before and with more meaning now.
Kevin frowned. “Yes. If that’s what you want, Andrew, it might look different now but I still want this. If not I’ll...” Kevin swallowed thickly. “I’ll figure something out.”
Andrew stared out at the treeline. He traced his fingers across the scabbing nail marks, and said, “I do the thinking for the both of us.”
It was as close as a yes, that is what I want Kevin was going to get, and the relief loosened his limbs. It wasn’t perfect, there would be growing pains to gain back the trust they had, but Kevin thought they could manage it. They’d endured worse, they’d endure more. There was no choice but through, and where Andrew went Kevin would follow.
“Doubtful,” Kevin said. “You seemed pretty thoughtless on the bus.”
A beat passed between them, then another. It might’ve been the wrong thing to say, Kevin acutely attuned to the blood rushing in his ears. He heard a soft exhale. Barely there, but enough. Laughter, Kevin realised.
“He’s rubbed off on you,” Andrew said, and if Kevin didn’t know any better he thought Andrew might’ve sounded exasperated. “You’re different. Mouthy.”
He didn’t specify who, because who else?
“Maybe.”
The wind died down, a reprieve to Kevin’s flushed skin.
“Your hands were shaking.”
“They were,” Andrew said.
Kevin sat with that admission, and the vulnerability of it. He looked at Andrew a little differently, and let the silence bathe them.
Neil found him the morning after.
The sun had just breached the treeline. Kevin barely slept, tossing and turning to the sound of Nicky’s snores. He’d been replaying his conversation with Andrew on loop, the tape spilled and tangled. All he’d wanted was a racket, a goal and an hour to himself to process. He had to make do with a run instead.
Neil appeared out of nowhere wearing his running shoes. One look from Kevin bared Neil’s teeth. “I’m not stupid enough to go for a run, Kevin. I went for a walk.”
“You can’t do anything that’ll slow your recovery.”
“Noted. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Neil kicked rocks at Kevin’s feet. He scowled and brushed them away from where he sat on the stairs. Neil kicked more rocks at his feet. Kevin opened his mouth to spit venom, cheeks reddened, but Neil shocked him into silence.
“Matt told me what happened on the bus.”
Kevin untied his laces just to retie them, anything to delay the inevitable.
“He said they tried to intervene,” Neil spoke slowly, like he quite wasn’t sure where he would end up. The hesitation was strange on Neil. “You didn’t need them.”
Kevin finally looked at Neil, and braced for impact. “I hit him.”
Neil nodded. “Good.”
Kevin’s eyes widened. “Good?”
“The thought of it makes me want to kill you,” Neil said, face so straight Kevin didn’t know if he was joking. He thought he was joking, but he could never quite tell with Neil, not when that blankness lingered a little too long to be savoury. “But I understand. He choked you, you punched him. What do you think you should’ve done?”
“Let the others drag him off me.”
“He was angry, I was gone. You were the only one with an answer,” Neil shrugged. “They wouldn’t have been able to. You did what you had to.”
It was a balm to Kevin’s bruised skin, the relief as disconcerting as it was welcome. He didn’t think it would come from Neil of all people.
Kevin shrugged, not entirely sated. “It doesn’t feel like that. It felt… wrong.”
Neil hummed. “He broke your deal. Why would it feel right?” His eyes sparked. “Has he—?”
“We still have a deal, for now. He said I don’t need him like I used to.”
“You disagree?”
“I don’t know what I think about it,” Kevin sighed. “I think this whole thing is exhausting, and we need to be focused on our upcoming matches. Especially with the state you’re in.”
“I’ve played in worse states.”
“Neil.”
“December,” Neil reminded, his face shifting just the slightest. Kevin felt his own spine straighten. “You know this—” he gestured to his bandages, bruises and stitches, “—is nothing, like how that bruise around your throat isn’t shutting you the fuck up.”
Kevin scowled. “Fuck you.”
Neil clicked his tongue.
Kevin finally finished with his laces and rose to his full height. Neil watched him for a long moment, an uncanniness about him that made Kevin pause. He frowned down at Neil, one eyebrow raised, wondering what else he was going to bother Kevin with. Surely he had better things to do, like bothering Andrew.
Neil’s eyes darkened. “Don’t touch him again.”
It was a warning, a promise, an exhale of relief from Kevin. This was normal, and he could breathe easy in normal, no matter how strange their normal was. “I don’t plan to.”
“Good,” Neil grinned, his stitches pulled taut. “Exy is unrelated. Do what you have to on court.”
“I don’t need your permission, Josten.”
“And here I am giving it to you, Day.”
Neil saluted and took the stairs two at a time. Kevin watched as he opened the door, revealing Andrew who stood with a lighter, hand outstretched like he was about to open the door. He locked eyes with Kevin. Andrew nodded, a cigarette lolled out of his mouth, and Kevin nodded back.
It might look different now but I still want this, Kevin had said, and he was ready for it.