Archive of Our Own

And they will all agree

that I'm a suffocator, suffocator,

suffocator

Oh, love

I'm sorry if I smothered you

I'm sorry if I smothered you

Andrew lets the sounds around him settle over him like a comforting, weighted blanket and leans back on the couch. When the girls announced they'd be throwing a small thank-fuck-midterms-are-over party at their dorm, he assumed he and Neil would pull their usual disappearing act after a couple of hours, sneaking away for some peace and quiet and cigarettes. Now, with Neil next to him, egging Aaron on as he takes his turn against Allison in an impromptu (and highly competitive) video game tournament, some terrible pop playlist playing from Matt's speakers, Andrew feels relaxed. He finishes one of the sugary cocktails Renee helped him make and lets himself feel content, thoughts drifting lazily to the noise and warmth of the Foxes around him and Neil's voice taunting Aaron.

It's a good day, and although those have become more frequent, Andrew knows to appreciate them. It's probably partly because he had a good session with Bee yesterday, the rare kind that allows him to feel his progress but doesn't leave him emotionally wrung out, and the calm has lingered.

He takes the opportunity to look at Neil while he's distracted. It should have gotten old, by now, looking at those ice-blue eyes that go impossibly warm when trained on Andrew, at the untamed auburn hair that is lit up green-blue-yellow in the glow of the TV. Andrew's feelings for Neil should've gotten old as the intriguing runaway lost his mystery. Impossibly, what Andrew feels for him didn't fade when the novelty did. Neil is a favorite book, a comforting well-known melody, and it doesn't seem like Andrew will ever get tired of relearning him. Whenever he takes out and dissects his feelings for Neil, Andrew is surprised to find they have somehow expanded. Neil doesn't even have to do anything particularly unexpected to keep his interest, Andrew is mesmerized by the simple ways he changes each day, by each new word and flicker of his eyes. It should be terrifying. It should feel like standing on the edge of the roof, like it did at the beginning, his stomach dropping, adrenaline kicking in, a rush of terror whispering It won't last. Good things never do.

But nothing about Neil Josten has ever made any sense, so, instead of it scaring the shit out of Andrew, loving him makes him feel safe. Settled. Makes him think, perhaps, he gets to keep this.

"Staring," Neil says out of the corner of his mouth, eyes on the screen where Allison is absolutely destroying Aaron.

Andrew huffs, annoyed at getting caught having horribly sappy thoughts, satisfied by the knowledge of having Neil's attention, too, of Neil always being perfectly attuned to him regardless of the chaos in the room. "I'm getting a refill," he mumbles, and sighs at the chore of standing from his comfortable seat. Neil turns to him and gives him a soft, private smile, the kind of look that usually prompts Andrew to say (increasingly softly, nowadays, unfortunately) Don't look at me like that. Today, he lets him look, and feels Neil's eyes on him all the way out of the living room.

The kitchen is empty when Andrew steps in. They are out of cocktails, and he doesn't feel like making himself one, so he pokes around the cabinets until he finds a half-empty bottle of scotch. It'll do. He is enjoying the quiet as he pours himself two fingers when voices drift to him from the hallway leading to the bathroom and bedroom. Two Vixens, probably, the only other guests besides the Foxes. Before he can tune them out as background noise, he hears his name.

"...definitely toxic. I mean, Andrew drives him everywhere, drags him out of parties early, doesn't let him talk to anyone else... I overheard Aaron telling Kate that Andrew picks Neil's clothes out for him, that's controlling as shit."

"Yeah, more like emotionally abusive. I don't get why the others don't do anything about it, though, like, if there was even a chance Neil would listen to me I'd be trying to rescue that poor boy."

"He probably doesn't even realize he needs rescuing, though, right? Like, that's how abusive relationships work. Besides, you know what his life's been like, with parents like his he might not know what a healthy relationship even looks like. And the others are probably too scared of Andrew to intervene."

The conversation fizzles out as someone else apparently joins the girls, but Andrew isn't paying attention anymore. He's frozen in place, staring into his glass and trying to wrestle himself under control. Inhale, exhale. This is fine. It's bullshit. They don't know what they're talking about. They know nothing about Neil and they definitely don't know shit about Andrew. He doesn't give a fuck what they think about their relationship. Everything is fine.

And yet, there is something sour crawling up his throat, something tight and uncomfortable in his stomach that makes his fingers itch for a lock to turn. He needs to be alone so he can think. He downs his drink and takes the bottle with him when he leaves the dorm, avoiding the living room.

The roof is cold and dark, the silence shocking after the party. Andrew smokes five cigarettes in a row, viciously silencing the taunting voices in his head that regurgitate shit he's heard throughout his life like hurt people hurt people and the abused becomes the abuser. Once his hands have stopped shaking enough so he can type, he googles signs of emotional abuse.

He's smoked three more cigarettes by the time Neil opens the door. Andrew doesn't turn to look at him as he tells him to "Fuck off," his voice even and blank. Neil hesitates for only a second before softly saying, "Okay." The door creaks as it begins to shut before it stops and Neil says, "Text me if you want me to come up."

He doesn't. He drinks and smokes and spends the rest of the night on the roof, his thoughts a whirlwind, frantic and hurtling towards a crescendo they haven't reached since he was on his meds.

The thing is, Andrew's always been very careful with boundaries. He is extremely aware of where the lines are, when it comes to touch, and makes a point never to cross them. He's always made sure to have Neil's vocal, enthusiastic consent to ensure he never took advantage of him. So he wouldn't be like them. So he would never physically abuse him. He's never once stopped to consider he might be emotionally abusing him. But clearly, other people have. He's always justified his need for control, and has only ever been shocked and grateful to find Neil understands and respects that. But the Vixens' words ring true in his ears, throwing everything he thought was true awry. The list of signs to look out for that Google provided him with plays on loop in his head, and Andrew's treacherous thoughts assign each item a memory. Proof. Data. Damning evidence.

When the first rays of sun claw their way over the trees obscuring Fox Tower from view and the alcohol has left Andrew slow and exhausted, he makes his way downstairs and crashes into his bed without bothering to change out of his clothes. Kevin is snoring, but Neil's bunk is empty. He's probably already out for a run. Junkie, Andrew thinks before he falls asleep.

He doesn't speak all Sunday. He woke up a few hours after falling asleep, drenched in sweat from a nightmare that was really just a memory. His thoughts are loud and ugly, his mind a movie theater playing a selection of his most traumatic memories over and over. Last night stays on his skin like a film of dirt, and his brain uses the new material to supply him with vivid images of those same memories but with Andrew playing the role of the abuser.

Kevin takes one look at him and makes the wise decision to steer clear of him. Neil asks him quietly whether he can do anything and accepts Andrew's silent refusal easily. Andrew spends most of the day alone on the roof. The darkness in his mind is so thick it feels solid. He spends the evening and most of the night driving aimlessly, the familiar feel of the seat's leather and the pavement beneath him failing to soothe him.

He knows he needs to talk to Bee, to let her untangle the mess of his thoughts and be the beacon that guides Andrew to safety out of the storm. But there is a fear he refuses to acknowledge, one that says Bee will tell him the Vixens and Google are right. After all, Neil doesn't talk to her, so all Bee knows about their relationship is Andrew's version of events. And if Andrew didn't know he was abusing Neil, perhaps he's been unwittingly hiding it from Bee, as well. He doesn't want to find out.

Monday is a gray blur. As he stares at the ceiling in the morning, he considers not getting up at all, but he knows if he doesn't he will probably let the inertia drag him into spending the rest of his life lying here.

Neil can immediately tell it's another bad day, and gives Andrew his space while staying close enough to be right there if Andrew needs something from him. His gaze makes Andrew feel exposed and oversensitive, it brushes the wrong way against his skin and makes him want to put on an extra layer over his already-covered body.

Practice and classes and gym time drag on, Andrew's thoughts grim and heavy. There is a hot ball of shame and disgust in his stomach that makes it hard to eat, so he smokes instead. It's a relief to go to bed that night, even though he doesn't manage to get much sleep. Kevin, despite his one-track Exy mind, has actually always been good at reading Andrew, and says nothing about skipping night practice.

Andrew's mind works overtime that night. He can fix this. If he is poison in Neil's life, he simply needs to drain himself out of it. He can't stop the reverberations of this mess from ruining him, but he can get Neil out of the burning building before it's too late. If he and Neil were in an actual relationship, one with labels and promises and expectations of continuity, the solution would be simple: break up with him. But they're not, Andrew's always made it clear ("sign number 9: they withhold affection from you"). He may think of Neil as his person, may have let himself —late at night when everything feels a little surreal, a little easier— picture lazy mornings in bed years down the line, a house somewhere in a new city, Neil's graying temples... but he's never said it out loud, so it's irrelevant. They are not a couple. So, he will simply have to remedy his behavior. Drain the poison. He can do that.

On Tuesday, as they're leaving the dorm for morning practice, Andrew flicks his hand at Neil towards his old dorm room and tells him, "Catch a ride with Matt." (because "sign number 1: they control and isolate you", "sign number 8: they keep you from socializing", "Andrew drives him everywhere"). His voice is slightly hoarse and he realizes it's the first thing he's said to Neil since Saturday night. He ignores Kevin's raised eyebrows and the hurt and confusion on Neil's face and walks to the stairs.

"Are the two of you fighting?" Kevin asks in the car. Andrew ignores him. Kevin frowns but accepts his silence, as he always has. Andrew was once convinced Kevin would vanish as soon as he didn't need Andrew's protection anymore, but his fear of being alone without promises binding people to him never panned out. Little has changed since his deal with Kevin ended, except Kevin hangs out with the other Foxes more. (Because Andrew is not holding his leash anymore. Because now Kevin is free to do what he wants. Was he emotionally abusing Kevin, too? No, he was upholding his end of the deal. Was he like...? No. No. If he goes down that road he will not come back. Riko kept Kevin small and afraid. Andrew just kept him nearby to make sure he was safe. Riko hurt Kevin for fun. Andrew has atoned for the one time he hurt him. It's not the same. Kevin chose to give his back to Andrew, and then chose to stay even when he didn't have to. Kevin rides with Andrew only because he wants to, now. Unlike Neil, who probably doesn't think he can ride with anyone else).

Nicky and Aaron finally join them in the car and Andrew tunes them out as he drives. Everything has changed with Aaron since their deal ended, but for the better. (Since Andrew stopped controlling and isolating him). Andrew's never been able to call anything his own, so he is protective of his things. His car, his family, Kevin, Neil. He likes to keep them in sight, likes to be able to reassure himself at any given moment that yes, they are here, they are safe, they are not going anywhere. He's seen firsthand how his particular brand of love can hurt people. He's heard from Aaron how exhausting and asphyxiating it can be to be loved by Andrew. Keeping Aaron on a leash almost cost him their relationship. Just because Neil isn't fighting his own collar doesn't mean it isn't hurting him just as much. Letting Aaron go got him his brother back, but Neil is not bound to him by blood. If Andrew let him go, Neil would slip between his fingers like a gust of wind. That doesn't mean he is willing to crush him in his hands just to keep him.

Practice is terrible. Andrew's mind is a slightly less hostile place today, and he makes a half-hearted attempt, which is about as much of an effort as he ever makes outside of games. But Neil is distracted. He keeps shooting Andrew searching looks that he either ignores or returns blankly. Neil fumbles the ball enough times that it feels like his first week all over again, with Kevin yelling at him until he's hoarse.

Neil is twitchy and frustrated as he leaves the court, his hair made darker by the sweat sticking it to his forehead. He takes his clothes into the shower stall with him and slams the door shut. Andrew takes his time, standing under the spray until the water turns lukewarm. He is not surprised to find Neil waiting for him when he gets back to his locker.

Neil frowns at him, tense, but his voice is even when he asks, "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Andrew answers, truthfully.

"Okay," Neil says after a beat. "Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not," Andrew answers, and again, it's the truth.

Neil scowls at him, and an edge creeps into his voice when he says, "You made me ride with Matt."

Andrew is tired of this conversation (tired in general, he hasn't been sleeping much, and his churning thoughts leave him drained and frustrated), and technically Neil hasn't asked a question, so he could just not answer, but... "sign number 10: they shut down communication", so he makes himself say, "So? I thought Matt was your friend."

Neil's frown deepens. He searches Andrew's face for something and then huffs as he runs a hand frustratedly through his wet curls. Whatever he opens his mouth to say is interrupted by Kevin slamming the locker room door open to tell them to hurry the fuck up and come out for the post-practice meeting. Neil glares at him but follows him out after a final look at Andrew.

Neil sits in his usual spot next to him, but keeps a careful inch between their bodies, whether to give Andrew space or because he's mad at him, Andrew doesn't know. Wymack is smart enough not to mention Neil's distraction during practice and wraps things up quickly. Andrew is wondering whether he should make Neil ride with Matt back to the dorm when Neil gets up from the couch and turns to him to tell him, "I'm going for a run."

He always does that, always tells Andrew where he's going. And yeah, Andrew doesn't like it when Neil disappears without warning, but has he made him feel like he has to report to him on everything he does and everywhere he goes? ("sign number 6: they monitor your whereabouts"). The thought makes something queasy twist in Andrew's gut. "Do whatever you want. I'm not your keeper," he says.

Neil is suddenly very still. Andrew ignores whatever expression is on his face in favor of getting up and leaving the court, Kevin, Aaron and Nicky trailing after him. In the car, he drowns out any attempts at questioning with loud music. Andrew's sole Tuesday class has been canceled, so he sits around all day smoking and trying to beat his thoughts into submission.

Neil doesn't get to the dorms until late in the evening. Andrew doesn't text him or ask him where he's been because "sign number 6...". When it's time for night practice, he tells Neil to drive there himself. ("Andrew drives him everywhere"). Like he said, he's not Neil's keeper, Neil is a grown man and can go places alone. And there is no way Andrew is picking up a racquet again today. Kevin glares at him, but Neil simply picks up his keys with a shuttered look in his eyes and leaves.

Andrew sleeps little and badly, and then stares at Bee's number on his phone screen for the better part of an hour. He knows he could call her. Betsy would answer, she always does. He could vomit out everything that's been happening and let her figure it out for him. Or... he could push it off and keep his shame to himself until his next session on Friday. He shoves the phone back under his pillow and tries to sleep some more.

Neil is subdued on Wednesday. He's not in the dorm when Andrew wakes up and is still out by the time he and Kevin are ready to leave. He is at morning practice, which means he got Matt to drive him again. Which is good. Fuck signs number 1 and 8. Neil has friends and Andrew won't keep him from them. He sees Matt looking at him in the locker room but ignores him. It's a numb day for Andrew, one of those days when his feelings feel far away and unreachable. It's a welcome respite from the mental circles he's been running lately.

Practice is fine. Neil is quiet and focused. Kevin, who by all means should be pleased, has a permanent worried wrinkle on his brow. In the lounge, Neil hesitates by the couch. "Can I sit here?" he asks Andrew, as though he hasn't been sitting next to him almost since the beginning. Since Andrew made him sit with his group, no room for arguing ("sign number 7: they make decisions on your behalf"). Andrew shrugs. "Do whatever you want." Neil just stands there for a moment, but Andrew doesn't look at him, keeps his eyes on a spot of blank wall above Dan's shoulder (pretends he doesn't see Dan glaring daggers at him). Then Wymack enters the lounge and Neil goes over to a lone chair next to the upperclassmen's couch.

If Andrew were feeling anything today, it might hurt that, when given a choice, Neil doesn't choose Andrew. As it is, he merely accepts it and archives the information for later, and proceeds to tune out Wymack's droning. The second they're done, he gets up and leaves. Neil doesn't follow him.

At the Fox Tower parking lot, Nicky stops him with a hand hovering over his bicep.

"Hey," he starts, his gaze appraising. "Um, so, I noticed Neil—" Whatever stupid thing he was about to say peters off at Andrew's knife against his stomach. Nicky, oblivious as he is, must still sense that Andrew is numb enough today he would actually stab him and feel no remorse, and quickly backs away, hands raised defensively. "Okay, okay! Got it. Just... fix it. Whatever it is." He scurries away into the building before Andrew can sink the knife into his gut.

Kevin has already disappeared inside, but Aaron stands on the other side of the car, frowning at him like he's trying to use his twin powers to read Andrew's mind. Andrew thinks fuck it and gets right back in the car. The Maserati roars out of the parking lot and Andrew lets the noise drown out his thoughts. He skips his only morning class and drives back just in time for his afternoon classes. Wymack will probably yell at him about it when he finds out, but Andrew honestly couldn't give less of a shit.

Neil finds him on the roof when it's time for night practice. "I'm not going," Andrew informs him before he can ask. Neil folds his legs beneath himself and plops down next to Andrew. "Me neither," he says.

Andrew is used to feeling dangerous. He has carefully cultivated a reputation and look that very clearly say Do Not Fuck With Me. He has threatened and punched his way into being someone people fear. Since that first time at Eden's, since their deal, Andrew hasn't considered himself a danger to Neil. He protects Neil, he trusts Neil to have his back, and Neil is respectful enough of Andrew's boundaries that he's never at risk of Andrew hurting him. He's not used to feeling dangerous when it comes to Neil.

Now, with his head resting on his knee, looking up at Andrew with so much trust in those bright eyes, Neil feels like something Andrew could so easily break. Now, it feels like maybe Andrew has been using his need to uphold his boundaries as an excuse to control Neil. Like he has let the control he needed to have over what Neil could say and do to him bleed into all their interactions.

He feels like a gun held to Neil's head.

"Kevin will be pissed," he says, when letting Neil sit there looking at him becomes unbearable.

Neil snorts. "Since when do you care about pissing Kevin off?"

Andrew says nothing.

After a few moments of silence, Neil speaks up, his voice quieter now, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he replies automatically.

Neil sighs, small and tired. "You've been off since the party. I thought it was just a bad day, but you're ignoring me. You haven't been talking to me..."

"I'm talking to you right now," Andrew deflects.

Neil acts like he hasn't said anything. "Talk to me," he asks. "Tell me what I did that upset you. Or what's bothering you." His eyes are earnest and blue blue blue.

It's not a good day for important conversations. Andrew feels too empty, everything inside him too flimsy. It's not the right mood to decide what to tell Neil.

He pockets his lighter as he gets up. He shakes his head a little at Neil. "Go play stickball with Kevin, I don't want to put up with his whining tomorrow."

Neil looks up at him, and there is something defeated in that look that almost stirs something in Andrew. Not today, he tells himself. He will figure it out. Just not today.

Downstairs, he shuts the bedroom door in Kevin's face and passes out as soon as he hits his bed.

Andrew wakes up feeling more grounded on Thursday, more in his body. There is an undercurrent of anxiety running just below his skin that makes his thoughts buzz. I need to talk to Bee, he thinks. He stands in front of the mirror before his shower and looks at his reflection. Imagines Bee listening to him silently, the slight twitch of her expression when she learns of this side of Andrew's relationship with Neil she has never heard of, as she realizes she's had a case of abuse under her nose all this time and not known it, the frown as she says, slowly, carefully, Andrew, I think it's probably best if you give Neil some space. He gets in the shower and turns the water on as hot as it goes.

Neil and Kevin are waiting for him in the living room when he comes out. The defeat he saw in Neil's eyes last night has been replaced by determination, that stubborn, fierce look Neil gets before a game. It doesn't bode well for Andrew. He looks Andrew in the eye as they leave the dorm, daring him to send him away again. Andrew takes a deep breath and ignores him. He turns the music up loud and tries to pretend he's alone in the car instead of with four people who keep wanting to talk about Andrew's feelings.

He works out some of the electricity running in his veins by hitting every ball shot on goal as hard and far as he can. Dan and Kevin curse as they run after it time and again, and Nicky yelps as he closely avoids a shot that could've broken his leg. Wymack barks at him to play nice, but Andrew ignores him. At one point, Wymack calls Neil over and they gesture heatedly on the other side of the plexiglass. He's probably trying to get Neil to tame Andrew. Fortunately for everyone involved, Neil tries no such thing.

After practice, Andrew pulls Renee aside. "Are you free at noon?" he asks through gritted teeth. Renee doesn't even pause. "Yes," she says.

Wymack takes Renee's place the second she starts walking toward the locker rooms. Andrew expects a dressing down, but Wymack's frown is concerned. "What's wrong with you, Minyard?" he asks gruffly. Andrew raises an eyebrow at him in mocking defiance, and Wymack sighs. "Look," he starts, "Whatever is going on with Neil, work it out outside my court. You know where to find me if you want to talk or drink about it. Until then, stop trying to injure my players." Andrew salutes him and stomps over to the locker room. He walks straight past the lounge after his shower, ignoring Dan's offended sputtering as he ditches the post-practice analysis and goes wait for his group in the car.

Sparring with Renee helps scratch that anxious itch underneath his skin. He doesn't pull his punches, and she doesn't expect him to. Renee stays out of his business until they're done and gulping down water by the wall. His shirt is stuck to his back with sweat and every muscle in his body hurts, but he's still grateful to her. "Do you want to talk?" she asks, her eyes knowing and piercing as always. "No," he says immediately, even though he's not so sure. Need to? Probably. Want to? Uncertain. If Renee pushed, he might be convinced to talk. Then again, if Renee ever pushed Andrew, they wouldn't be friends. She nods at him and says nothing else apart from a quick goodbye as they go their separate ways.

After his classes and afternoon practice, Andrew drives the others back to the dorm, Neil included. He had hopped in the car with that same stubborn look in his eye he's had all day ("he probably doesn't even realize he needs rescuing", "he might not know what a healthy relationship even looks like"). Andrew goes straight to the roof to waste away the hours. He feels stuck. Stuck in his mind, stuck in his body. Stuck in his own personal limbo with nowhere to run.

The sun is setting when Neil shows up. Andrew is not surprised.

Neil sits down next to him, his eyes on Andrew's profile. "I've been thinking about it a lot," he says without preamble. "Trying to understand what's wrong. And I figure it's either (a)," he raises his thumb, "I've said or done something that annoyed or upset you, in which case you need to tell me so I can fix it, or (b)," he raises his index finger, "it's an internal thing, you've been thinking about something that's made you push me away, in which case you also need to tell me so we can work it out. Either way, you have to talk to me, Andrew. I can't read your mind and this week's fucking sucked." He stares at him expectantly. "So what is it?"

Andrew can't look at him, at the stupid hopeful openness on his face, so he fixes his eyes on a stray cloud and clenches his jaw. He doesn't know how to answer that, but he can at least give Neil this: "You didn't do anything," he forces out after a few seconds of silence.

Neil lets out a slightly shaky breath. "Okay," he says. "So it's something going on in your mind. Is it... is it about your past?" he asks tentatively. "I mean, is it just something you want to deal with away from me? Or is it about me?"

And Neil is so good. That's the problem. If Neil was awful, if he wasn't so fucking smart and considerate and good to Andrew, he wouldn't be in a position that has led to Andrew hurting him. If Neil didn't trust him so much, he wouldn't have given Andrew so much power over him. Neil is fierce and competent, he never takes any shit from anyone and is more likely to throw a punch than to let someone push him around. Except for Andrew. Andrew promised Neil protection and Neil clung to him, gave himself over fully. And Andrew abused that trust. He's not even giving Neil anything in return now that their deal is over, now that he's not Neil's protector anymore. He's just the douchebag who bosses him around, gets off with him when he feels like it, and dismisses his feelings at every turn while refusing to admit his own. And because Neil is loyal to a fault, he sticks with Andrew, which inevitably distances him from the other Foxes, the ones who are actually good for him. Without Andrew keeping him to himself, Neil would spend all his time with the people who openly love him, who lavish him with affection and help him heal. Without Andrew hanging over his head like a dark cloud, Neil would be happy and cherished, as he should be. Just because Neil is the best thing in Andrew's life doesn't mean Andrew is what's best for Neil. He makes a decision.

After a small eternity, he makes himself turn to look at Neil. He allows himself a second to take him in. His beautiful face. His scarred cheek. His loose clothes. His hair, moving in the soft breeze. "We're not doing this anymore," he says, flickering a finger between them, his voice firm and certain.

Neil's breath catches in his throat, his beautiful blue eyes huge as he blinks rapidly, searching Andrew's expression for something. "Are you breaking up with me?" he asks bluntly, his eyes intent and unwavering on Andrew's face.

"There is nothing to break," Andrew says. It's a deflection, and a bad one at that, since they both know that's bullshit. It's been a while since Andrew's insisted with his half-hearted This is nothings.

Neil pushes ahead, "Fine, are you done with me, then?" he rephrases.

And Andrew may be trying to do what's best for Neil, but he's not strong enough to say yes, to sever so sharply the ties that bind them together. Instead, he says, "I'm bored," which is neither true nor does it make him feel any better, but hopefully, it will make Neil understand that he's under no circumstances asking him to leave, that he is still a Fox, still Andrew and Kevin's roommate, still part of Andrew's group. Just not... Andrew's anymore. Andrew is letting him go.

Neil takes a deep breath and turns to look straight ahead. He knows that's as good an answer as he's going to get, and he understands what it means. He swallows thickly a couple of times.

"Okay," he says quietly at last. Then he stands up, his movements steady. He doesn't look at Andrew again as he leaves the roof.

Andrew stays where he is until he's sure Neil and Kevin have left for night practice, and then makes his way downstairs and gets ready for bed. The buzzing disgust with himself is momentarily appeased by the knowledge that Neil is now free of their relationship and Andrew's control, but the grief that settles heavily in his chest seems to be there to stay. He stares at the ceiling for hours before finally falling asleep.

Kevin greets Andrew in the kitchen on Friday with a scowl. "What the fuck did you do to Neil?" he snaps at him between gulps of his disgusting protein shake. Andrew's silence doesn't deter him. "He almost blew out his arms at practice last night. Again."

Andrew glares down at the cereal he's pouring himself, his back to Kevin.

"Andrew," he tries again. "Did you dump him?"

Andrew turns his glare on Kevin. "Mind your business."

Kevin squawks indignantly. "This is my business. With Neil off his game, the team's balance suffers. You need to fix things or we can say goodbye to championships."

"There is nothing to fix," Andrew says evenly.

Kevin really looks at him now, and damn him for knowing Andrew so well. "Shit. You really did break up with him, didn't you?"

Andrew shovels the rest of his cereal and goes to take a shower. Neil is strong. He will be okay. He will be stupid and self-destructive for a few days and then he will move on. Andrew made the right choice.

He can't escape Kevin on their way down to the car. "Why did you break up with him? You love him." He says it like it's a simple fact, like of course Andrew loves Neil. Andrew keeps himself in check. If he were to break down (which he won't), he'd do it later today in his session with Bee, not in the dingy foyer of Fox Tower in front of Kevin. Kevin sighs at Andrew's silence but drops it for the time being.

Nicky is the only one who talks on the drive to the court, and Andrew tunes him out.

The upperclassmen are already there when they arrive. Neil is not. Andrew assumed he'd come with Matt, but as they file into the locker room and everyone starts to get changed a sliver of fear creeps into his chest. Is he gone? Has he run? Did he think this was what Andrew wanted?

He takes out his phone, but there's nothing from Neil. But he probably wouldn't feel like he could call Andrew when he needed him anymore, would he?

The fear doesn't get the chance to grow into panic because then Neil comes into the room. He is a mess, drenched in sweat, panting with his running clothes sticking to his body.

"Have you been running since you left the dorm?" Kevin asks him incredulously. At Neil's shrug, Kevin's tone turns angry. "Are you insane? You're already tired, how are you supposed to give it your all at practice?"

Neil swats him away like an annoying fly. "I'm fine, Kevin." He ignores Kevin's outraged expression and starts getting changed. He doesn't look Andrew's way. It's strange, not having Neil's attention. It makes Andrew all the more aware of the fact that he's always had it, since the very beginning. Neil's eyes always find him the second he steps into the room. Or, they used to. Andrew forces himself to look away. He has no right to be upset over this when it was his decision, when it was the right thing to do.

Neil is brutal during practice, running himself ragged like it's the second half of a championship finals game and they're losing. He ignores Wymack and Dan's chiding and snaps viciously at Kevin when he yells at him again.

Neil and Kevin don't come out to the lounge after getting changed. Wymack starts his rundown of practice like he's not expecting them, and it makes something irritated flare within Andrew. He gets up and goes find them himself, ignoring Wymack's annoyed call of his name and Nicky's worried look.

He doesn't see them when he enters the locker room, but he hears them.

"—and, in case you forgot, we have Ichirou hanging over our fucking heads, we can't afford to—"

"Stop it," Neil snaps at him. "You think I don't know that? I'm doing what I can to get us there." He moves, and now Andrew sees him, Neil's back to him, his frame a single line of tension. Kevin follows him closely.

"You're running yourself into the ground! If you get injured because you don't know when to stop, we're fucked."

"Kevin—"

"Look, I know you're upset because Andrew broke up with you, but your heartbreak is going to cost us championships if you—" He doesn't get to finish his sentence. Neil slams him hard into the lockers, and Andrew can easily picture that look on his face Neil usually saves for people he hates (the look that, he once quietly confessed to Andrew, he gets when he feels more Nathaniel than Neil). "Shut up." His voice is a low, dangerous snarl. "You don't know shit about me and Andrew, so focus on your own fucking game and leave me the fuck alone."

Kevin looks shocked at the viciousness of his tone, and his voice is softer when he speaks again, appeasing. "Neil. I know you're hurting, okay? Breakups suck, and I know what you had with Andrew was special. But you can't ruin your life because of it."

Neil takes a step back from him, all the fight sapped out of him. "He didn't break up with me," he says, quiet and toneless. "There was nothing to break." They're Andrew's own words, and he hears now how cruel they are, how much like a knife to the chest. His voice gets sharper, "And don't give Andrew shit about this. I mean it, Kevin. He did nothing wrong."

Andrew can't be there anymore. He leaves as quietly as he entered and goes outside to smoke and hide his shaking hands.

The drive to Reddin is silent. Andrew has never been nervous to talk to Betsy before. At first, the thought of scaring her away, of sending her running for the hills like so many therapists before her, was mildly exciting. Then, she proved herself to be worthy of Andrew's trust, and sessions with her became a comfort, even when they were hard. For the first time, Andrew is dreading seeing her. He dithers outside the clinic until the last possible second, then takes a deep breath, mentally braces himself, and goes in.

Betsy is waiting for him, pleasant as ever, but her sharp eyes take Andrew in and she seems to be able to tell something is wrong. Andrew feels exposed, an ant under a microscope. His skin feels too tight, too thin. The room feels brighter than usual, the colors oversaturated and harsh on his eyes. To her credit, Bee goes about their ordinary routine. She chatters on as she makes Andrew a cup of hot chocolate, and Andrew lets her voice soothe the worst of his nerves. Once they're both sitting with their steaming mugs, Betsy stops talking. She waits Andrew out, gives him time to get his thoughts in order and into words.

The tension inside of Andrew stretches until it snaps. Finally, when he can't take it anymore, he says, "I broke up with Neil. Yesterday."

"Oh," she says mildly. And then, when nothing else is forthcoming, "May I ask why?"

Andrew looks around the room. His eyes scan each glass figurine, noting Betsy's switched around the goose and the cow, probably to maintain harmony with the size of the animals around them. For some reason, that small gesture makes him feel the irrational urge to ease her into it instead of straight up telling her the conclusions he's reached. "I overheard a conversation." He keeps his voice mild and his expression blank, even though he's never been able to fool Bee. He tries to stick to facts: what he heard the girls saying, what he googled, what he said to Neil last night. Clinical. Mechanical. He still feels like he's giving more away than he means to.

Bee doesn't outwardly react to any of this. She continues to sip at her hot chocolate, her eyes on Andrew to show he has her full attention.

Once he's done talking, she hums thoughtfully. "Okay. So you broke up with Neil because of what two girls you have never talked to think about you." It's not exactly a dig, she's just confirming what Andrew's told her, but Andrew's brow furrows defensively. "I googled it," he says through gritted teeth.

"Right," says Betsy. "The list."

"It's from an official source." He's aware he sounds like a petulant child, but Bee is acting far too calm for what Andrew's just revealed about himself.

Betsy thinks for a second and then nods decisively. "All right," she says. "Why don't we go over each item and you can tell me why you think it applies to you?"

The ugly thing in Andrew's chest that feels like bile makes him want to run and hide from this. Once he goes over the list, Betsy will know. She'll understand Andrew's not exaggerating and she'll finally see the seriousness of the situation. A small, petty part of him can't wait to prove her wrong, to prove her reluctance to see he's a monster naive. So he starts reciting the items that are seared into his memory, like everything else (Andrew doesn't get to forget, because the Universe hates him. Because there is probably no higher power out there, but if there is, It is clearly an asshole who likes to fuck with him for kicks). "Sign number 1:" he says, and it oddly feels like he's reading out his own death sentence. "They control and isolate you."

"Do you control and isolate Neil?" It feels like a punch to the gut, so different to hear Betsy say it than it was to think it. Somehow worse, more damning.

He nods, a small, jerky movement. "I keep him away from the others," he says quietly, a confession, a plea of guilty. "I tell him what to do and where to go. I make him ride in the Maserati and sit next to me wherever we go, and I made him switch rooms with Aaron so he'd be closer to me."

Bee nods absently at this, her eyes still free of judgment as she asks, "So if Neil says he doesn't want to ride with you, or if he'd said he didn't want to change rooms, would you have gotten angry at him?"

Andrew frowns. "No," he says immediately. "He can do whatever he wants."

Bee looks at him knowingly, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and Andrew feels played. He wants to argue, but then Bee asks, "And if Neil said, 'Hey, I'm hanging out with the upperclassmen today', would you have a problem with it?"

Andrew glares at her, knowing what she's doing, but reluctantly answers with the truth, "No. He can hang out with them whenever he wants." He thinks back and acknowledges, "He does hang out with them. He plays video games with Matt and goes shopping with Allison..."

Bee nods like that settles it. "Okay," she says. "So it seems like if Neil spends so much time with you it's because he wants to. And it sounds like you would respect it if he said no to you."

"But he doesn't," protests Andrew. This is not going how he imagined. He thought he'd be defending himself, not trying to prove himself guilty. "He probably doesn't feel like he can go against what I tell him to do."

Betsy tilts her head to the side consideringly. "Has he ever said no?"

Andrew's automatic response is no ("It's always yes with you"), but he stops before it comes out, because that's not exactly true. A few different memories bid for his attention, but he focuses on one. Allison's birthday party last month. He thinks of standing with Neil outside the girls' dorm, hearing the loud music booming through the door. Tugging on Neil's sleeve, saying Let's go for a drive instead. Thinks of Neil's bright grin, of the way he squeezed Andrew's fingers once, and said, a laugh hidden in his voice, It's Allison. She'll never forgive us if we ditch. Think of the free alcohol. Thinks of rolling his eyes but following Neil in. His mind skims rapidly over a hundred times, before and after that day, when Neil said no to him in a hundred different ways, or talked him into doing what he wanted instead. He thinks, also, of Neil asking him to shut out other teams, to make an effort during practice, to go out with the upperclassmen. Finally, he admits, "Yes. He's said no."

Betsy nods, business-like. "Okay. What's the next item?"

Andrew breathes in deeply, feels something that's been coiled tightly inside him loosen up a fraction.

"Sign number 2:" he says, "They threaten you with violence." It hurts to swallow. "That one is true," he tells Bee. "I would never do it, but I tell him I'll push him off the roof all the time. I tell him..." Something like panic blooms in his lungs. Inhale, exhale. "I tell him I'll kill him," he says very quietly.

Betsy hums. "In which context do you say those things to him?"

Andrew thinks. "When he's being sappy, I guess."

Bee smiles softly. "And how does Neil react to your threats?"

Andrew glares at her but answers, "He smiles. Or laughs. Or tells me that he loves me, too."

"Sounds like he knows you don't mean it, then." Betsy's smile is full and bright, now. "It even sounds like he knows it's affectionate."

Andrew glares at her harder.

Bee relents, "All right. What's the next item, then?"

"Sign number 3:" he recites automatically. "They treat you with dismissiveness."

Betsy hums again as she thinks. "Now, I don't mean to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but... A couple of weeks ago, Neil called you when you were about to leave my office, didn't he? I only heard your side of the conversation, Andrew, but you didn't sound very dismissive to me."

Andrew knows what she's talking about. Neil tried to wait until he knew Andrew should be done with Bee, but when he couldn't wait anymore he called him. He was quiet after Andrew picked up, so he knew immediately Neil was having a panic attack. He talked him down from it, voice low and reassuring, and waved vaguely at Bee as he told Neil to stay put and wait for him to pick him up.

"There are other times, though," he protests.

"There are times when Neil is going through something important or having intense feelings and you act like it doesn't matter," she looks for confirmation, and even though her voice is mild, Andrew can tell she's skeptical.

He shrugs, irritated. "He drowns in his feelings, sometimes."

"So you de-escalate the situation by not making it into a big deal?"

He shrugs again.

"And does it work? Does it help Neil?"

"Yes," it's easy to tell, now, talking to Bee, that he would never dismiss Neil's feelings if what he needed from Andrew was something else. In fact, when he does need Andrew to hold him up and reassure him, he does. It was not so easy to see this when he was alone with his thoughts.

"Not very abusive of you, then." She says it lightly, but it's clear her wording is deliberate and calculated. The tension inside Andrew gives another inch. "Sign number four?" she prompts.

"They insult your appearance." He frowns down at his almost empty mug. "It's not my fault he still dresses like a hobo when left to his own devices. Besides, Allison also tells him when he's wearing something awful. And Kevin."

Bee seems pleased that he's defending himself. "Does it bother Neil when you criticize his style?"

"He doesn't really care. He lets Allison dress him up and cut his hair. And he once told me he likes the clothes I buy him for Eden's."

"And do you insult anything about his appearance besides his fashion choices? His face? His body? His scars?"

"Of course not," he snaps. The thought of anyone making Neil feel bad about the way he looks makes Andrew's blood boil. Neil may be ridiculously hot, but he's self-conscious about his appearance, about the way his scars make him conspicuous and his eyes and hair remind him of his father. He's gotten better at looking at himself in the mirror, but it's a work in progress, and Andrew would kill anyone who set him back.

"Then this item doesn't seem to apply, does it?" When Andrew doesn't protest, she says, "What's sign number five?"

Andrew shakes off his murderous thoughts and says, "They put down your interests."

"Which of Neil's interests do you put down?"

Andrew snorts, "He only has one. Exy."

"Well, I'd say you have a right to your own opinions on Exy, don't you? It's the sport you play, after all."

He doesn't really know how to answer that, so he doesn't.

"When Neil talks about Exy, what do you do?"

"I call him a junkie."

"Do you tell him to shut up? Or that you don't care about what he has to say about it?"

Kevin is usually the one Neil goes to for Exy-talk, for long, mind-numbingly boring conversations about player statistics and drill ideas and new plays. With Andrew, he chatters about the team, about practice and his future as a professional player. It's less about the sport and more about Neil, Neil's life, Neil's family, Neil's future. Andrew lets him ramble on. He would let Neil talk about dental extractions if he wanted to. It's just nice to listen to him, relaxed and comfortable in the passenger seat of the Mas, or next to Andrew on the roof.

"No," he admits. "He cares about it, so," he shrugs.

"And you care about him, so you let him talk," Betsy finishes the thought he definitely wasn't going to say out loud. He doesn't deny it, though. "What about the next item?"

He takes a deep breath. This is a big one, one of the main ones that's kept him up at night. "Sign number 6: they monitor your whereabouts."

"All right, tell me about this one."

He unclenches his jaw so he can speak. "I know his class schedule. He tells me where he's going whenever he goes out." He breathes. "I don't like not knowing where he is."

Betsy considers this for a moment. "The last time you didn't know where Neil was," she starts, carefully, "he had been kidnapped by his father and very nearly died. That's hardly a common situation, Andrew, perhaps you should cut yourself some slack." When she sees Andrew's not convinced by this, she continues, "When Neil goes out running, do you make him tell you which path he'll take? Or do you track his phone?"

"No," Andrew grumbles.

"Okay. And, say Neil's classes are over and he doesn't show up at the dorms, right? And you text him and he replies that he's fine but he's busy doing something, do you ask him what he's doing, where, and with whom?"

Andrew's frown deepens. "No," he admits. As long as he knows Neil hasn't run away or been kidnapped, he doesn't need a detailed report of what he's doing at every given moment. If he's safe, it's fine by Andrew. But... "He tells me, though. He always tells me where he's going."

"Hmm. Have you considered maybe it's for his own benefit rather than yours? I haven't spoken to him about this, so I won't pretend to know, but perhaps it makes him feel safe to have you know where he is," she pauses. "From what I know of him, perhaps it's even a comfort to make himself accountable for his whereabouts. He's spent a lifetime running, Andrew. It wouldn't be strange if making his location known was a coping mechanism against his runaway instincts. Whatever the reason, since he tells you where he's going of his own volition, it hardly counts as monitoring, don't you think?"

Andrew takes a minute to think about it, and has to reluctantly agree. He nods.

"Sign number seven?"

"They make decisions on your behalf."

"Well, I think we've established that's not true. Like you said, Neil's more than capable of making his own decisions and telling you no when he wants to. Seems like when he does what you tell him to, it's because he also thinks it's what's best for him."

Andrew thinks of Neil asking whether he could sit next to him. He thinks of what he and Betsy have been talking about. Maybe Neil wasn't looking for permission because Andrew tells him what to do. Maybe he was just trying to be respectful of Andrew's boundaries since Andrew had been acting so cold towards him. He takes a deep breath and makes himself let it go.

"Okay," he accepts. "Sign number 8: they keep you from socializing."

"Right. You said he plays video games with Matt and goes shopping with Allison, didn't you? It seems like Neil socializes when he wants to, and you don't try to stop him when he does."

"Yes. But..." he thinks about how to phrase the feeling swirling around inside him. "I scare people off. Being with me means he's cut off from the rest."

Bee considers this. "But you don't tell Neil not to hang out with other people." It's not a question. "So Neil chooses to be with you rather than with anyone else."

"He feels obligated," Andrew insists.

"Does he?" Bee sounds unconvinced. "You mean that if he wasn't hiding out somewhere quiet with you, he'd be a social butterfly?"

The thought makes Andrew's nose wrinkle. Neil hates crowds, hates being the center of attention. He's learned to let the Foxes in, but he shuts down around anyone else, ices them out with a callousness that the Foxes find equally horrifying and hilarious. Neil may be healing and getting better at letting himself be seen, but he's not naturally sociable. Half the times they leave a party early it's Neil's idea. And Andrew knows that, no matter how much Neil loves the Foxes, he still gets overwhelmed if he spends too much time with them. He can only take Allison's fussing over his appearance, Nicky's incessant chatter, and Matt's friendly hugs for so long before he needs to retreat and recharge. The only one he doesn't feel drained by is Andrew. That's why Andrew is so often present during Neil's alone time.

"Fine," he agrees. "Neil's almost as anti-social as me."

"Besides," Bee says, something soft in her eyes. "You've been integrating more with the rest of the Foxes. I doubt you scare them off."

And it's true, really. Andrew's hardly making them friendship bracelets, but it's been a long time now since the upperclassmen were wary of him. They accept his silences and need for space, but they also embrace his presence when he decides to participate. They include him in their bets, Allison asks for his opinion on clothes, Matt talks to him about video games and cars, and he has even been known to share a deadpan look with Dan when the rest of their teammates go teary-eyed during movie night. He supposes, gun to his head, he might be persuaded to admit he considers them (ugh) friends now. Whether that's dependent on Andrew being with Neil is another matter.

Andrew doesn't deny it, so Bee continues, "Next sign?"

"Sign number 9," he says, and is glad there is only one more item left, as the energy he has to do this is quickly burning out. "They withhold affection from you." He can't see a way around this one. "I'm not affectionate," he says. "I've never even told him what he means to me."

"So he doesn't know?"

A beat of silence. "He told me, back at the beginning, that he wanted anything I was willing to give him and nothing more. And he's never pushed for more, even when I give him nothing."

"Okay." She thinks for a second. "Do you truly not show him affection, or does it just look different from the way other couples do it?"

Andrew thinks. He thinks of tenderly tracing the scars on Neil's abdomen in the silence of the empty dorm. Of his hand on the back of Neil's neck when he gets overwhelmed. Of shared cigarettes and secrets. Of the way Neil smiles at him, soft and loving, when Andrew calls him Junkie and his voice comes out more endeared than he meant to let on. Of his fingers entwined with Neil's in the darkness of the roof. Of late-night drives around campus when Neil's nightmares keep him up. Of hooking his chin on Neil's shoulder in front of the mirror and whispering You look nothing like him. Of the armbands he bought Neil. Of the coffee he leaves hot on the counter for when Neil comes back from his runs when they stay at the Columbia house.

"I try to show him." It sounds like a confession, quiet and vulnerable. "But he corrects people who call me his boyfriend because he knows I've never agreed to that. And he told Kevin we are nothing because that's what I'm always telling him."

"He also knows you told him to stay when he offered to leave after Baltimore. And he knows you ended your deal with Aaron for him, despite how much that deal meant to you."

His exhale is shaky.

"If being more open with your feelings for him is something you would like to work on, that's great, and I encourage you to try. But I don't think the way you love is lacking, Andrew."

It hits his chest fast and sharp. He didn't know he needed to hear that. Fuck Bee for being so good at her job.

Bee must be able to tell he's reaching the end of his emotional capacity for this conversation, because she softly says, "Sign number ten?"

He swallows. "They shut down communication."

"It's funny you think that applies to you," Bee says gently. "I've always thought it's impressive how well you and Neil communicate. You seem to be on the same wavelength. I've seen for myself how you have whole conversations with just a shared look."

"I shut him out when I don't want to talk," he says.

"What about when Neil doesn't want to talk?"

He shrugs. "I respect that."

"And Neil does the same for you, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"So you are both able to talk to each other about things you don't share with anyone else, and you understand each other implicitly. Plus, you've told me about all the times that first year when the team got Neil to talk you into things because they knew you would listen to him. And when you don't feel like talking, he understands because he has days like that, too. None of this sounds like you shutting down communication."

Andrew's shoulders drop as the last of the tension drains out of him at Bee's words and the exhaustion of a week from hell catches up to him.

Bee reads him like an open book.

"I imagine carrying these thoughts around all week must have been awful. I hope next time something like this happens, you remember you can call me, any time," she says gently.

Andrew nods, feeling ashamed now for imagining Bee judging and fearing him.

"I would like for us to continue this conversation next week, or sooner, if you need to talk before Friday. But now you look like you could use some rest. I would just like to say that... I understand this fear is coming from a very real place. But you are not like the men who hurt you, and I'll be glad to help you see it as many times as you need me to," her gaze is unwavering on Andrew, steady and reliable. "Your relationship with Neil is good, Andrew, for both of you. Other people may not understand it, but it's not their place to. That doesn't mean anything, it doesn't make it bad or wrong. Don't end it just because of fear. You can trust yourself with him," she pauses to let the words sink in. "And maybe give Neil some credit to know what's good for him, okay? He has proved himself strong and capable time and again. Riko couldn't break him, his father couldn't break him, the FBI and the Moriyamas couldn't break him... Trust that he would be capable of defending himself against you if he needed to."

That last part draws a long, shaky breath from him. He knows she's right.

He's quiet and subdued as they say their goodbyes, and he lets the warmth of Betsy's parting smile give him strength for whatever comes next.

His thoughts are slow and tired as he leaves the clinic, a low hum he'll pick at only after getting some sleep. They stop in their tracks when he sees the figure leaning against the Maserati.

"If you thought we had joint therapy today, you're an hour late," he deadpans as he approaches.

Aaron is still damp from showering after the practice Andrew's missed. He rolls his eyes and slips into the passenger seat when Andrew unlocks the car. Andrew is too emotionally exhausted to kick him out, so he just raises his eyebrows at his brother's nerve before making his way to the driver's seat.

He doesn't ask why he's there, and Aaron doesn't speak until they're almost at Fox Tower.

"What did he do?" His voice is tight with simmering anger, and when Andrew sneaks a look at him, he's scowling at the windshield.

Normally, Andrew would be difficult. He'd ignore the question, or pretend not to know who he's talking about. He's just had his innermost fears picked out of him like threads and examined one by one, however, so he just says, "Nothing."

Aaron huffs. "I've always hated him," he says heatedly, which is a lie. He and Neil had butted heads relentlessly for over a year, but after Aaron's trial, once Aaron got hit in the face with the full reality of Andrew's past, things changed. He seemed to finally begin to understand how Andrew and Neil worked and grudgingly recognized that Neil's manipulation was the only way he and Andrew would have ever talked about their issues. Soon, he and Neil fell into the stereotypical sibling dynamic Aaron and Andrew would never have. Neil annoyed him, Aaron threw heavy objects at his head, they bickered endlessly, but they always ended up together on the couch trying to destroy each other at video games. Andrew suspects, though he's never asked, that they also bonded over having shit abusive mothers they couldn't help but love and grieve. "I'll kill him for you," Aaron continues. "Wouldn't be the first time." He has never joked about killing Drake before, and it startles a huff of laughter out of Andrew. He sees the corner of Aaron's mouth rise in dry amusement, but it's gone just as quickly. "Seriously, though," he says. "What did he do to you?"

Andrew sighs as he parks the car. He turns to look at Aaron, at the unhappy turn of his mouth, and something warm and fond blooms in his chest at knowing it's for him, that it pains Aaron to see him upset. Not so long ago, Andrew had been sure once their deal was over he would never see Aaron again. Now, they finally have a relationship despite having no promises binding them. They may share the same DNA, but they are brothers by choice, and they've worked hard to get there. It gives him hope for the future, and he's learning to allow himself to feel things like hope again. He's learning to let himself believe this time it will not leave him broken.

"Neil didn't do anything," he says at last. Aaron searches his face suspiciously. "Things have been... bad," he allows. "But it's on me. And I'll fix it."

Aaron seems at least a little appeased at this. "Good," he says. "The asshole's been moping at my dorm for days now, I can't stand him anymore." Andrew smiles at this, small and dry, but Aaron sees it. "You owe me dinner for putting up with him for you," he throws over his shoulder as he exits the car.

Andrew rolls his eyes, but as they walk to their building he says, "Tomorrow."

"No Eden's again?" Aaron asks, though he doesn't seem surprised.

Andrew shakes his head. He needs time and space right now.

Aaron hesitates when they reach the dorms. "You know where to find me if you need to talk," he says before disappearing into his room.

The others aren't back yet. Andrew takes a quick shower and collapses into bed. For once his mind is quiet, and he soon falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. He wakes up when Kevin slams the front door open, but lets sleep drag him back down almost immediately.

He wakes up groggy early Saturday morning, disoriented and starving. It's so early that even Neil lies asleep in his bed. Andrew allows himself a moment to look at his peaceful face before going to the bathroom. He showers and then wolfs down the leftovers he finds in the fridge before doing a mental check-up of his emotions. He feels better than he's felt all week, but now that he's well-rested, he has the bandwidth to sort through everything he and Bee talked about and figure out how to move forward, which is daunting.

He's just finished washing his plate when Neil comes into the open kitchen space, track clothes and running shoes on. He looks tired, black smudges beneath his eyes, his auburn curls all over the place, and Andrew wonders how peaceful his sleep truly was. Neil freezes when he sees him, eyes roaming over Andrew's face like it's been weeks since he last saw him instead of under twenty-four hours. "Hi," Neil says, quickly schooling his expression into blank politeness. Andrew hates it. Hates that it's his fault Neil's looking at him like he's a vague acquaintance. "Hi," he answers.

Neil's shoulders relax a fraction, like he feared Andrew would ignore him. He stands there for a few seconds before pointing at the door. "I'm going—" He cuts himself off with a small flinch. "Never mind." He's out the door before Andrew registers that the last time Neil told him he was going for a run, his response was Do whatever you want. I'm not your keeper. Fuck.

Neil's still gone an hour and a half later when Kevin stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen. Andrew braces himself for another angry rant about team balance, but Kevin is quiet as he eats his fruit. Andrew peers at him suspiciously until Kevin asks, "What?"

"You're not complaining about me missing night practice again. Why?"

Kevin shrugs. "You were sleeping. You looked like you needed it." It's touching. It's also not the whole truth.

"And?"

Kevin fidgets, suddenly very interested in the slice of pear on his fork. "Neil didn't show up either."

Oh. "I must have been dead to the world, I didn't hear you yelling," he says drily.

Kevin still won't look at him. "I didn't. He wasn't here when I left or when I came back. I think he might've been on the roof. I waited up for him to yell at him," he admits, "but didn't."

And that really is suspicious. "Why?"

Kevin shrugs again, looking uncomfortable. "He didn't... look great. I cut him some slack." Kevin doesn't cut people some slack when it comes to Exy.

"‘Not great’ how?" Andrew's voice is hard.

It looks like Kevin isn't going to answer until Andrew takes a menacing step towards him. He makes a helpless little gesture and says, quietly, "He looked like he'd been crying."

It's like a knife to the stomach. Neil doesn't cry, not unless he's being tortured or having a panic attack. The thought of him crying alone on the roof makes Andrew's heart squeeze painfully. Kevin looks at him searchingly, but doesn't say anything else as he finishes his food and goes hole up in the bedroom with his computer and headphones, probably to watch the Trojans' game. That, or porn. They are likely the same for Kevin, anyway.

Andrew is still in the kitchen, lost in thought, when there is a knock at the door. He finds Allison standing on the other side, expression steely. "I need outfit help," she announces imperiously as soon as he opens the door. Then she turns on her heel and strides over to her room. Andrew stands there, stunned, for a second. He considers ignoring her and closing the door, but Allison is unrelenting and would be back in a second, so he follows her.

They pass Renee in the living room, who looks up from her book to smile at Andrew in surprise and then shoot a warning look at Allison. Allison waves dismissively at her and takes Andrew to the bedroom. She closes the door and moves to the gigantic closet that takes up most of the floor space. He knows it's coming, but he's still begrudgingly impressed at her boldness when she turns, arms full of clothes, and says, "Neil is miserable. You are miserable. Renee said to leave you alone, but Neil is being predictably tight-lipped, so. Talk."

Andrew raises an impassive eyebrow at her, and they spend a solid two minutes in a staredown. Allison huffs in annoyance and drops the pile of clothes on the bed. "Fine. Dan says I —and I quote— 'can't hoard all the closet space with clothes I never wear', so I need to throw out like half of these."

Andrew expects her to try to interrogate him again, but they just sort through her clothes, debating on the need for three raincoats, the realistic usage rate of a truly hideous brown and orange top that says Halloween can suck my Halloweenie, and the pros and cons of open shoes, until forty-five minutes later they have a sizeable pile for Goodwill.

Andrew is almost starting to believe he'll make it out of this bizarre interaction unscathed when Allison says, "All Neil has told us is not to be mad at you, which means this must be your fault. I don't know whether you're fighting or whether you were dumb enough to break up with him, but whatever it is, you don't look thrilled about it either. Which makes sense since you two stubborn assholes are fucking soulmates. Are you going to fix it?" She's looking at him like he's a troublesome child, her hands on her hips and face set.

Andrew glares at her, annoyed. She may be right, but he doesn't have to like it.

After a moment of silence, she drops her arms. "If you really did break up with him, don't let it fuck everything else up. You won't find anyone better for you than Neil, but just because you're an idiot it doesn't mean you get to ditch the rest of us. Don't be a fucking stranger, do you hear me?" Andrew blinks up at her, shocked. He might be on better terms with the upperclassmen now, but he's always assumed that bond hung on his relationship with Neil. Hearing that Allison, apparently speaking for all of them, still wants Andrew around on his own makes something weird expand in his chest. He nods dumbly at her and she nods like it's settled.

"All right, then. Renee and I have an empty dorm to make the most of. Fuck off."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly and lets Allison herd him to the front door. "Movie night tomorrow," she reminds him as he steps out, and it sounds like a threat. He nods at her and makes eye contact with Renee, who smiles at him, before Allison promptly shuts the door in his face.

He stands there for a second, reeling from the unexpected turn his morning has taken, before going up to the roof for a cigarette.

He's lying on his back, enjoying the mid-morning sun, when he hears the door to the roof open and curses internally. He still hasn't planned what to say to Neil. When he sits up and looks back, however, he sees Nicky hovering by the door, looking uncertain. "Hey. Can I come in?"

Andrew raises an eyebrow. "In," he repeats mockingly.

Nicky scoffs. "Out, whatever, you know what I mean."

He shrugs and Nicky joins him by the edge. He peers down before quickly reeling back. "How can you sit here if you're afraid of heights?"

Andrew pauses.

"Oh, come on, I've lived with you for years, you think I haven't noticed? Give me some credit," he says with mock offense.

He has a point, Andrew supposes. He never does give Nicky any credit, even after he gave up his loving, happy life in Germany with Erik to take care of two ungrateful bastards who do nothing but make him miserable.

"What's with the grim look all of a sudden?" Nicky asks softly.

Andrew will thank him, someday. But he has to prepare himself to talk to Neil, and that's as much emotional vulnerability as he can handle at once. So, for now, he says, "Did you all have a meeting and decide to pester me today?"

Nicky looks confused.

"Allison," he clarifies.

"Allison talked to you? Oh. I didn't know," he seems genuine, so Andrew lets it go. "No, I just wanted to check up on you. I can tell you haven't been doing okay with whatever's going on with Neil."

"I don't want to talk about it." He tries not to sound too harsh, because he knows Nicky means well, but the last thing he wants right now is to pour his heart out to his cousin.

"That's okay," Nicky says. "We just never hang out just the two of us since I changed rooms." He looks out at the trees. "I miss you." And Andrew has an eidetic memory, but he forgets Nicky can be like this.

Nicky has spent so much time acting as a buffer between the twins, between Kevin and Andrew, and between their group and the upperclassmen, that Andrew forgot that the hyper, chatty, over-the-top version of Nicky the Foxes are used to is an exaggerated persona he uses to try and lighten the mood. Sure, his cousin may be sociable and generally cheery, but there is also this side to him, calmer, quieter, more serious, that he constantly covers up so he can be everyone's comedic relief and —Andrew is not proud of himself to admit— emotional punching bag. Andrew shouldn't keep forgetting this, considering Nicky's strength and emotional intelligence are what got the twins through high school and into college. Without him, who knows where they'd be. Definitely not here, and definitely not together. Nicky was their first real home, the first person to take them as they were and demand nothing in return.

Nicky has learned, over the past year or so, to read Andrew better. Maybe he's finally understood why Andrew listens to Neil, because he's learned to let silences stretch and wait Andrew out instead of immediately trying to fill them.

Now, he gives Andrew time to process his thoughts, content to sit with him in the sunlight.

He still has time to tell Nicky all the things he should tell him before they graduate and he moves back to Germany, so he saves it for another day. He doesn't want to leave him hanging, though, so he asks, "Did Erik get that promotion?"

Nicky's face immediately lights up, possibly at the thought of Erik, probably at Andrew's interest in him. Andrew feels kind of bad for always tuning him out when he starts waxing poetic about his boyfriend.

"Yeah! I mean, it's not official yet, but his boss told him it's a sure thing. Now they're just waiting for..." Andrew listens to him talk, letting himself feel the affection for his cousin he so ruthlessly denied him for years after they first met.

Nicky has lunch plans with some friends from one of his classes, so Andrew enjoys a rest from all this socializing by having a quiet takeout lunch in the dorm. Kevin is gone, probably to the gym. Neil is not in either, but the clothes he wore this morning are in the hamper, so at least Andrew knows he made it back from his run.

Andrew works on homework for a couple of hours before Kevin comes back. He waves a distracted hello at Andrew before disappearing into the bathroom. When he comes out, cheeks flushed and hair still dripping, he sits on his bed and stares at Andrew where he's sitting at his desk until he can't stand it anymore.

"What, Kevin."

"Do you prefer Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays or Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays?"

Andrew turns to look at him. Kevin has that look he gets when he's got open the mental spreadsheet where he keeps track of everyone's business.

"What?"

"For night practice," he says impatiently. "You don't want to practice with Neil, fine. But I made you a promise and I intend to keep it, so. I've let you slack off this week, but that ends starting Monday. Or Sunday, depending on what you choose. Cutting down on both your night practice time is less than ideal, but if the only way you'll show up is if Neil isn't there, I'll play child of divorced parents and we'll split the days. So?"

Andrew stares at him. This is oddly nice of Kevin, and Kevin is not a particularly nice person. It's touching, in Kevin's awkward, Exy-obsessed way. At his prolonged silence, Kevin frowns. "Is this a 'it's either him or me' situation? Because that's not fair. You may not want to be with Neil anymore, but you can't ruin his chances of making Court out of pettiness, Andrew. Especially since his life depends on it. Literally."

If Andrew were prone to facial expressions, his eyes would be comically wide. As it is, he simply blinks dumbly at Kevin. "Wait," he backtracks. "Did you just imply that if I made you choose you'd choose me?" It's half-mocking, half-disbelieving. Neil is Kevin's mini-me, his protegé. There is no way Andrew would get Kevin in the divorce.

Kevin glares at him like he's being particularly dense. "Well, you are my best friend, asshole. Anyways, you won't make me choose. Neil needs me, and you love him. You would never do anything to hurt him. So, Sundays or Mondays?"

There is too much to unpack, too many feelings bidding for his attention. Best friend. Huh. He has never thought of Kevin that way, but he supposes he is Andrew's best friend, since he's the only one in their group he is not related to or romantically involved with. He feels strangely vulnerable in the face of Kevin's loyalty.

"Both," he says. He cuts off Kevin's annoyed huff. "I will practice with Neil."

Kevin's surprise immediately becomes relief. "Oh, thank god. There is only so much I can do without a goalkeeper there. Tomorrow, then."

"Monday."

Kevin opens his mouth to argue, but seems to think better of it. He sighs. "Fine, but you can't skip another one."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine."

He looks at the time on his laptop and gets up.

"Where are you going?" Kevin asks.

"Aaron."

Kevin nods and doesn't ask for details.

Andrew's just grabbed his car keys when Aaron knocks on the front door. Twin thing, Andrew thinks wryly.

The drive to their favorite Thai restaurant is quiet except for their silent fight over the radio. Dinner is nice. It is so rarely he and Aaron alone, without Nicky or Kevin or Neil there. It's easier to feel like Aaron's twin, when they're alone. To see all the ways they're the same.

Aaron doesn't ask about Neil again. He talks about classes, entrance exams for med school, Matt's annoying habit of leaving his damp towel on Aaron's desk chair, and Katelyn's best friend's feral bunny that allegedly tried to bite off his finger. Katelyn, like Neil, has long since stopped being an open wound festering between them. Andrew's not friends with her, but she's earned his respect by being a steadfast support for Aaron during his trial and all the messiness that came with it. She's good for Aaron, and Andrew has come to believe it.

They drive back in comfortable silence and part ways when they reach their floor. Aaron goes into his dorm room, but Andrew goes straight up to the roof.

He doesn't see Neil until he's halfway to his usual spot. He looks small in the shadows of the roof, knees up, arms around his legs, and head resting on them, looking out to the side. It's the same position he's sat in so many times next to Andrew, including one of the last times he tried to get Andrew to talk to him. Or, almost the same position. As he gets closer, Andrew sees that one of Neil's hands is on the back of his neck, and he realizes with a jolt that he is comforting himself with its weight, the way Andrew usually does for him. Something warm and painful twists in his gut.

Neil looks up at his approach, startled, and Andrew's heart beats painfully against his ribs when Neil furtively brushes away a few stray tears.

"Shit, sorry," Neil says, untangling his limbs and hurrying to get up. He avoids Andrew's eyes. "I thought you were out tonight."

"It's fine," Andrew says, even though nothing about this is fine. Part of him wants to reach for Neil, to place his own hand on the back of his neck and apologize, but he still feels raw, and he doesn't want to rush into it just to change his mind later and decide letting Neil go is for the best, after all. He's promised himself he'd take the weekend to think it through. He owes Neil that much, at least.

Neil nods erratically and makes an aborted move as if to leave before he stops. He takes in a steadying breath as he fixes his eyes somewhere above Andrew's shoulder. He hasn't looked this sad since that shithole of a motel in Baltimore where he knelt and told Andrew he'd leave if that was what he wanted.

"I'm sorry I've been all..." he waves his hand a little, "weird, about this. I know you weren't... I know this wasn't..." he exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated with himself. His blue eyes are darker in the dimness, the shadows beneath them more prominent. His hands are tight fists at his sides. Andrew misses him sharply, even though he's right there. "I'll get over it, I promise. You don't need to avoid me. We can still..." he finally meets Andrew's eyes, something determined glowing within them, though dampened by the tension in his face. "...be friends." His chest rises with an inhale but doesn't fall on an exhale. He's holding his breath, bracing for rejection. When it doesn't come, he lets it out. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Andrew gives him a small nod. Neil looks at him for another moment before leaving.

Andrew stays for a while, smoking and thinking.

When he wakes past 11 on Sunday he has a text from Kevin: abby & dad want us over for lunch, lmk.

He sighs. He was planning on doing fuck all until it was time for movie night and the talk he intended to have with Neil, but he knows this is important for Kevin. He and Wymack have slowly but steadily worked on their relationship, both unused to having a family, both rough around the edges when it comes to feelings. Some days, Kevin calls Coach "dad". Others, "Wymack". Andrew won't pretend to understand how Kevin's mind works, but he suspects "dad" days are good days, step-forward days, away from the fucked up "family" of the Nest and into the one he should have always had. He supposes he could just drive Kevin to Abby's and not go in, but Kevin's follow-up text reads: lasagna btw and damn it, but Andrew is weak for Abby's homemade lasagna.

Fine, he texts back as he walks into the bathroom. Kevin's immediate thumbs-up emoji is almost endearing, and the thought of finding anything Kevin Day does endearing makes Andrew scoff at himself.

When he walks into the living room, he sees Neil standing at the kitchen counter. He is staring unseeingly into his mug, and for a second Andrew thinks he's having a panic attack, but then Neil snaps out of it, eyes locking on Andrew. "Hi," he says, face carefully blank. Andrew nods in response and moves to make himself a cup of coffee. He feels Neil's gaze on the back of his head.

Neil hovers for another moment until he finally says, "Are you going to Abby's?"

Andrew takes a sip of his extra-sweet coffee. "Yeah." He turns to look at Neil, who is fidgeting with his mug. "We leave in half an hour."

Neil glances up at him before looking down again. "Okay," he says, and keeps fidgeting.

Andrew sighs. He hates that he's made Neil so insecure about where he stands. "Be ready by then, I won't wait."

Neil looks up at him in surprise, and a small smile curls his lips. "Oh. Okay, I will."

Nicky is out with Allison, and Aaron is studying at Katelyn's, so when Kevin gets back, they get ready and leave the dorms.

There is an awkward pause when they reach the car, Neil and Kevin looking at Andrew for direction. Andrew pretends he can't tell and gets into the driver's seat. After another moment of hesitation, Neil slides into the passenger seat. He's stiff until Andrew starts the car, and then relaxes back against the headrest.

Lunch at Abby's is comfortable and familiar. They fall into their usual routine, the one forged over summers and holidays spent with her. Kevin sets the table, Andrew makes the salad, and Neil helps Wymack take the food to the table. Neil barely pauses before he sits down next to Andrew, and there's something about Neil accepting only what Andrew is willing to give him, about him being willing to be Andrew's friend and nothing more if that's all Andrew wants, that makes him all the more sure he needs to fix this as soon as possible.

Lunch talk predictably revolves around Exy, which seems to be Kevin and Wymack's preferred bonding topic. Abby makes a few valiant efforts to steer the conversation into another subject, and it works for a few minutes before Kevin inevitably brings up Exy again.

After lunch, while Neil and Kevin set out to do the dishes, Wymack asks Andrew for a word alone. Even though he and Abby don't live together, Wymack has commandeered one of her guest rooms to use as an office whenever he's over. Now, he sits at his desk and motions for Andrew to take the chair in front of it. Andrew raises an eyebrow at him but complies, and is rewarded by Wymack taking a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and pouring some out for him.

Andrew takes a sip before leaning back in his chair. "Am I being fired, Coach?" he asks with faux concern. Wymack shakes his head at him. "Nah. It's the bottle I had ready for when you broke into my apartment one of these days. I don't know whether to be glad or disappointed you didn't."

That catches Andrew off-guard. He remembers being high off his mind, scaling Wymack's gate just for the little thrill the height gave him, breaking into his apartment just because he could, drinking Wymack's alcohol and chattering away at him non-stop for hours at a time. Wymack has always been the one he seeks out when he needs a confidant, someone who wouldn't try to analyze him like Bee, but who would just sit with him, drinking and listening to the rapid nonsense coming out of his mouth.

He isn't sure why he didn't go to him this time. He thinks, perhaps, it's because he has others to rely on now that his family is more than a few broken pieces barely held together with tape. Or maybe it's because of the revelation that Wymack is Kevin's father, and thus now more Kevin's than Andrew's. Probably, though, it's because Wymack loves Neil. If he was going to hold either of them up during this, it would have made sense for it to be Neil.

Wymack, as always, seems to understand how Andrew's mind works.

"You can always talk to me, son, you know that."

He's been calling Andrew that since almost the beginning. Son. Andrew has never been anyone's son. Not even to Cass. Definitely not to Tilda. But he sat on Wymack's couch the first night he broke into his apartment, stolen bottle in hand, and Wymack sighed, tired but not afraid (never afraid of Andrew), and called him son.

Because Andrew is an instigator at heart, or maybe because he can't believe in a good thing without throwing it to the ground to see if it'll break, he says, "Even if I hurt Neil?"

Wymack calmly refills Andrew's drink. "From what I've seen, you're just as hurt as him, kid."

Andrew takes a couple more sips.

"He's here with you today, though, so clearly there's still hope for you stubborn assholes."

Wymack doesn't break. Wymack never breaks, no matter how many times Andrew tests him. That's what kept leading Andrew to his apartment time and again. It's rare for people like Andrew to find someone who won't buckle beneath the weight of how fucked up they are. The confirmation finally draws something true out of him: "I broke up with him," he reveals.

Wymack sighs. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

He shrugs. "Stuff."

Wymack frowns at him. "Well, that's a shame. I really thought you two would make it, considering everything you've already come through together." His frown turns into a scowl. "I hope you did it because it was what you wanted and not out of one of your self-destructive fits, though."

Andrew focuses on his glass as he shrugs again. "Whatever, old man. It doesn't matter, I'm talking to him tonight."

Wymack nods. "Good. God knows no one else would put up with either of you idiots."

Andrew huffs and drinks. They stay there for a while, drinking in comfortable silence. When they're leaving the room, Andrew promises "I'll make sure to break into your place soon." Wymack rolls his eyes, calls him an asshole, and pushes him out of the room. Andrew feels more settled than he has in over a week.

Neil and Kevin, too, seem relaxed and content on the drive back, idly arguing over whether Abby's meals or desserts are better.

The rest of the afternoon is quiet. The three of them settle on the couch to watch a history documentary, something they've done a hundred times. Andrew's missed this. The normalcy of it washes over him and settles into his bones. He catches Neil looking at him a few times, and each time Neil gives him an apologetic grimace before looking back at the TV. Andrew doesn't say anything about it, even though his fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch Neil's hand, his hair, anything. The few inches between them feel insurmountable. Tonight, he reminds himself. Be patient. Do this right.

Renee texts Andrew when everyone is ready for movie night, and they make their way over to the girls' dorm. Dan opens the door for them, and when Andrew passes by her, bringing up the rear, she says, quietly, "I'm really glad you're here, Andrew," and she sounds like she means it.

There doesn't seem to be any anger on Matt's face, either, when he comes over to greet them and hug Neil off the ground. Andrew goes into the kitchen to help Renee with the snacks, and she gives him a kind smile. "You look better," she says. "And so does Neil, now that you're hanging out again."

She doesn't expect an answer, so he says nothing. Renee, who he's always suspected has some kind of Christian magical powers, looks at him with a twinkle in her eye. "Good luck tonight," she whispers, and leaves the kitchen with two bowls of popcorn. Andrew schools his expression into indifference and grabs the remaining bowls before following her out.

The movie is boring, some over-the-top romance Matt picked out, but the room is dark and quiet except for the glow of the screen and the Foxes' comments, and Andrew feels at ease surrounded by them, comfortable in a way he never would have believed he could be around so many people.

And it's the way they see him, maybe. The way Betsy said You can trust yourself with him. The way Allison said You two stubborn assholes are fucking soulmates. The way Wymack called him son and was glad Andrew planned on fixing things with Neil. The way Aaron was on his side without even knowing what happened. The way Nicky sat with him for the better part of an hour just to be with him. The way the upperclassmen trust him with Neil. The way Kevin called him his best friend, said Andrew would never do anything to hurt Neil.

It's the way they see him, with all his shitty attitude and history of violence, and still think he's trustworthy. Still think Neil is safe with him. These people have seen Andrew at his worst, drugged and manic, freshly traumatized, violent and unyielding, and yet look at him now and don't see a monster. They only see Andrew.

It's their belief in him, more than his belief in himself, that convinces him to try to get Neil back. If Andrew truly had been bad for Neil without realizing it, one of them would have. If he can't trust his own perception of himself, he can trust theirs. And they think he's good for Neil, so he'll have to believe them.

When the movie is over and Aaron and Kevin are fast asleep on the floor, Andrew leaves the cleanup to the others and tugs on Neil's sleeve. Neil's eyes are on him immediately, like drawn to a magnet. "Roof?" Andrew asks quietly. Neil searches his face for a second before nodding decisively.

They sneak out of the room and go up the stairs in silence. The night is mild, the sky clear. They sit down in their usual spots and just breathe for a while. Being alone with Neil soothes something deep within Andrew, some ridiculously needy beast that paces restlessly when they're apart and only settles down when they're together.

"I'm sorry," Andrew starts, because he needs to apologize, because the words have been lodged in his throat for days now.

Neil's eyes snap to his, and tension creeps into his frame. "Don't," he says. His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it mirrored in his sharp gaze.

"Neil—"

"No," he interrupts, and he's starting to sound pissed off. "I don't want you to apologize."

This is not going how Andrew planned. He suddenly feels incredibly off-balance.

"You did nothing wrong, Andrew," Neil continues, "and I'm sorry I've made you feel like you have. You—" he runs a hand through his hair and looks out at the silent campus. "You were always very clear about what this was, and you didn't break any promises." He looks at Andrew, and that fiery determination is back in his eyes. "My feelings are not your responsibility," he says, very seriously. "I'm just glad you trusted me enough to do... that, with me, for as long as you wanted it.

"You have given me so much, Andrew. You gave me safety; you gave me the keys to your house and to your car; you took all my truths and the mess that I was and you let me stay and made me believe I could be... someone. A real person. Neil Josten. You... you let me touch you, Andrew," his voice is softer, now, with something like awe coloring it golden. "I know how much trust that took. No one had ever trusted me like that before.

"Everything I have now, this life, I have it because of you. You don't... owe me anything. And I'm glad you're okay with me still being around, but if you weren't, that'd be okay, too. I could switch rooms back with Aaron, I could ride with Matt to practice, I would stop going to Eden's... it'd be fine. I'd make it work." Andrew can only look at him, at this pipedream of a man who keeps surprising him time and again. "I never wanted you to feel obligated to do anything with me, and I don't want you to think I blame you for telling me that what you want has changed. I would never want anything from you that is not freely given, Andrew. So if you say we're done, we're done. No apologies needed."

It feels impossible, that he could deserve this, could deserve Neil. But Neil wants this, Andrew wants this, and everyone who knows them thinks they can have this. So maybe Andrew can allow himself to have it. Maybe he can let himself believe that he's just as good for Neil as Neil is for him. That what they have is good and he gets to keep it. Maybe loving Neil is terrifying, and maybe it's okay that Neil can't make the fear go away. He just makes Andrew brave enough to face it.

He clears his throat to try and let the words out past the sudden knot lodged in it. "I meant, I'm sorry for lying to you."

Neil tilts his head. "About what?"

"I'm not bored of you, Neil." He gives Neil a second to see the truth of his words in his eyes. Neil looks at him like he can see right into his soul. Andrew shivers. "I never could be. I-" He doesn't know how to continue, but Neil gives him time to find the words. He thinks of the way he told Betsy, and starts at the beginning. "You were right. About me being off since the party." Neil makes a questioning sound, eyes unwavering on Andrew even when Andrew can't look at him anymore. "I overheard two Vixens talking about us. About how I was..." He swallows. Takes a deep breath in, out. I am not like them, he reminds himself. "...emotionally abusing you."

Neil's outrage is immediate and incandescent. His head snaps up, his eyes bright and burning. "What the fuck?! That's bullshit! Who was it? Tell me. I'll fucking kill them." He sounds serious about it, too, and Andrew lets himself feel a little bit amused at the mental image of Neil hunting down two cheerleaders and going berserk on them.

"It's fine, Neil."

"It's not fucking fine." Neil snaps at him. It's nice, this vitriol on Andrew's behalf. It's Neil getting mad about the injustices in Andrew's life when Andrew couldn't. It's Neil getting Proust killed for hurting Andrew. It's If it means losing you, then no. Unnecessary, but it still makes something flare to life in Andrew's chest.

"Neil," he says, quietly. Neil immediately comes down from his murderous rage, listening intently to him. "I don't give a shit what they think or say about me. The problem was... it made me spiral," Inhale, exhale. "It made me... think. About whether they were right."

Neil goes still as a statue next to him. "What?" His voice is reedy. All the color drains from his face. "Andrew—"

"I know." His huff of laughter is humorless. Neil's eyes are huge and sad, a frown between his eyebrows that Andrew itches to smooth away. "But then I came up here and googled signs of emotional abuse and..." He sighs and shrugs helplessly. "Sore subject, hair trigger. My mind did the rest of the catastrophizing for me."

Neil makes a little hurt sound that soothes Andrew's raw nerves. "Andrew..." he whispers.

"And then it kept... piling up. I kept seeing signs of it being true, and my nightmares got worse, and..." He has to stop to breathe. In, out. "So I pushed you away. So I wouldn't keep hurting you. Because the thought of hurting you—" his throat closes up and suddenly he can't breathe.

"Andrew," Neil says. "Breathe with me." He waits until Andrew is looking at him before placing a hand on his own chest. Andrew looks at it rising and falling smoothly and does his best to copy him. They spend a few minutes breathing together.

After another shuddery breath, he makes himself continue. "I talked to Bee on Friday. It's fine, Neil, I'm fine. I know that's not how we are. It was just... bad, for a while. In my head." He makes sure to look Neil straight in the eye. "I'm sorry I hurt you." Neil immediately shakes his head and begins to protest, but Andrew stops him. "No, I am. I broke up with you because I got scared," at Neil's sharp intake of breath at broke up, he says, "And I'm sorry I was cruel about it. There was something to break, Neil. This was never nothing." Neil's eyes are bright. His expression is so open and vulnerable that it gives Andrew the courage to confess, "It's everything. It's still everything to me, if you want it."

Neil's deep breath sounds like a sob, but his cheeks are dry. "It's always yes with you," he says softly. At Andrew's lukewarm glare, a laugh tumbles out of him, bright and clear, and it makes Andrew painfully aware of not having heard it once this week. "Yes, Andrew, I want it." He's smiling so hard his eyes squint, and Andrew's heart expands painfully. Neil's smile turns softer, and his voice is happy and certain when he says, "It's everything to me, too."

Andrew braces himself for catcalls and cheers when they walk into the lounge the next morning, his pinky wrapped around Neil's, but they never come. The Foxes definitely notice, but they're uncharacteristically discreet about their excitement, despite the smiles on their faces.

"Oh, thank fuck," says Wymack when he walks in. At that, Nicky whoops and the others laugh.

Thankfully, that's the extent of their reaction for now, although Andrew has no illusions of being safe from their nonsense as the day goes on. And if he sees money changing hands, he pretends he doesn't. For his own sanity.